by LJ Swallow
"He was going to kill Syv," she growls.
"Oh, her. Clever girl finding what I need to decipher the book. You know, the book you’re going to bring to me so I don’t rain on everybody’s parade." Seth smirks at his stupid joke. "Shame she gave it to the wrong people, but she won’t find the other half. I have someone else following her. You don't think a half-demon chick and her fairy boyfriend can stop me taking the other half of the stone, do you?"
I swallow. What situation have we sent Syv and the Collector into?
"Are you expecting us to come to you there?" asks Xander. "Because that’s not going to happen."
"How many people do you think would die if the hurricane hit?" asks Seth.
"How many people will die if you translate the book?" Xander shoots back.
Seth places a hand on his chest. "Alexander," he gasps. "Are you back to justifying collateral damage again?"
"What the fuck does that mean?"
"You'll find out." He throws a smile. "But anyway, do what I ask, and I’ll save some lives. If not, you’ll be responsible for painful deaths. You know it’s the disease that comes after the destruction which kills most of them, and you can’t stop that. When I end this world and kill them all, it will be quick at least. It never takes insects long to die if you squash them quick." He pokes a body next to him. "It took the fae a while to die, though."
I rub my eyes. There's no right answer here; people will die.
Xander grabs the phone from me and disconnects the call. "Xander!" I protest.
"I'm not getting involved in his games. We have two days. Syv will be back with the stone, and we'll have the upper hand."
"So we wait and hope he doesn't fuck something up in the mean time?" Heath retorts.
"What else do you suggest?" Xander snaps. "That we go to him?"
I screw my face up as a Xander and Heath argument kicks off.
Heath steps forward, into Xander’s face. "Chaos could open the portal he’s near."
"That's a risk I'm willing to take."
"And the storm?"
"That's not going to happen."
"Really? How can you be so sure?"
Vee reaches out and pulls Xander's hand from his pocket; she tightens her fingers around his. "Guys. Seth's not in the same room as us, and he's still causing divisions."
Heath huffs and steps back. "Vee's right. We'll need a united front when we talk to Portia."
"Portia?" asks Xander, eyes widening. "Oh, no. No fucking way. Logan can deal."
Heath takes a deep breath. "Didn't you just see? How many fae were slaughtered trying to help us and the world against Chaos? Why do you think he chose that location and not one of the portals guarded by Ripley's forces?"
I blink at him and Joss interjects, "Because he knows the Order and Logan are allied with us right now, but that Portia isn’t fully aware of Logan’s actions. He also knows how little Portia trusts any of us. She’ll lose her shit when she finds fae were used in this way, all behind her back."
"Exactly," says Heath. "If Portia spits the dummy and refuses to help anymore, then he's eliminated one of his allied enemies without having to lift another finger."
"Possibly two," says Joss quietly. "Fuck knows what Portia will do to Logan when she discovers the whole truth."
They’re right.
Chaos has one strategy he can always use. One used before with huge effect.
Divide and conquer.
16
VEE
The next morning, I wander around the house fighting anxiety after last night’s switch from relaxing to shocking. After all the recent stress and horror, I would’ve thought some quiet alone time would be good, but I don’t want to spend time in my current headspace.
Especially when images of myself in the mirror at the museum sneak in alongside the gruesome fae images. Is that how I look when I kill now? Or something more sinister?
But like Xander, I want to act and not think too hard. The urge to fight for an answer—and confront anything that gets in my way—won’t leave. I have another fight: to keep the other Vee under control; the one who wants to walk out the house and find Seth. That’s harder after seeing the result of his attack last night.
I head to see Joss. I’m concerned about our conversation at the museum; perhaps talking to him about how we both feel right now would help. We haven’t spoken much about recent events. Is he coping? Or hiding from me, the way Ewan did, after what happened in Scotland?
I can’t allow myself to think about Seth and his threats. The idea sickens and terrifies me.
I can relax with Joss the most and right now I need his gentle calm. I head upstairs and find Joss in his room on the bed, reading. He’s barefoot and wearing just a T-shirt with his jeans. I only see the guys wrapped up against winter in their jackets when we’re out, and I appreciate how the grey material stretches tight across his shoulders, and his muscled arms emerging from the sleeves. Involuntarily, I picture his long fingers stroking my skin and not in the soothing way I’ve approached him for.
"Stop perving, Vee." Joss’s eyes remain on his book, but a smile hovers around his lips.
"I was not," I protest and head toward the bed.
"Uh huh." He lowers the book.
Sitting, I tip my head to read the book’s title. The Da Vinci Code. "Joss! That’s fiction, and won’t help your obsession with religion."
He pulls a face and sets the book on the nightstand. "I feel like a fiction break."
"Hmm."
"But now I have you to spend time with."
Smiling, I stretch out on the bed and prop myself up on my elbows, so I face Joss, and place my feet in his lap.
Joss tuts. "Oh, I see. You only came to see me for a foot massage." He mock pouts.
"No. But if you insist…"
He shakes his head before taking my foot and kneading with strong fingers. "I sense you’re not okay."
"What? You sense that from my feet?" I joke.
"Ha ha. No. Come on, speak to me."
"I can’t cope," I whisper. "I can’t stop worrying about you all and how you’re being affected by this."
He looks up. "A lot is happening, of course, you worry."
‘A lot is happening’. I almost laugh at his understatement. "True."
"Let’s make a deal. For a couple of hours, we relax. There’s nothing we can do right now until we meet with Ripley and the others and discuss what to do."
"I need you to know what happened to me doesn’t change anything between us all," I blurt out.
"But it does." My heart speeds in fear over what he might say. "Don’t you feel like this has broken some of the tension? Built trust? Maybe because Seth has gone, maybe because Ewan somehow united us. I don’t know."
Relief replaces the concern. "I think so."
"And when this shit is over, then we can spend more time together. I don’t think anybody is going to blame you for being a little distant. You’re stressed. We all are."
"So I need some of the Joss treatment to wipe away stress." I grin at him, but he doesn’t return my smile.
"Believe me, Vee, you don’t want some Joss treatment right now."
I wriggle my toes. "Why?" He looks up, and my heart speeds at the look in his eyes. Desire. Unhidden, pure desire. Am I in another situation like Xander last night?
"Maybe I do."
"Don’t, Vee," he whispers. He eyes the open door and shifts to massage my ankle. "You think I’m obsessed with thoughts of Hell and God? Believe me, that’s nothing compared to the obsession I have with you right now."
My heart speeds, his touch sending not-so-soothing sensations through me. I came up here to relax and joke; this intensity is unusual from Joss. He slides a hand higher, massaging my calf as he looks back at me.
I pull my leg away and move, so I’m beside him instead, wanting the comfort we’re agreeing to share.
He reaches out and touches my face. "I know you come to me when you want peace and gentle t
reatment." I open my mouth to protest. "Vee, you know that’s true. The problem is, I don’t feel very gentle right now."
His eyes burn with an intensity that snatches my breath. I’ve seen this from Joss once when we were in the study that night, and for a few blissful moments, I saw the raw man underneath. But he’s right, and so was Syv when she spoke about how intuitive he is. This man puts my needs first, always, sometimes frustratingly so, as if he’s scared what would happen if he doesn’t hold back.
"You’re worried you’ll lose control around me, is that what you mean?"
He leans forward and brushes his lips on mine, sending sparks across my scalp. "No. I would be very in control, Vee."
His words murmured against my mouth, trigger heat, instantly, spreading through my body as it instantly responds to the suggestion. "Why’s that a bad thing?"
He smoothes my hair. "I don’t want to scare you."
I can’t help but break into a laugh. "Joss, there’s more to scare me in my life than you suggesting you want to do bad things to me."
His grip tightens. "I want to be alone with you. To take you somewhere away from all this and—"
"And?"
"Seriously, I’m not going to say anything that’s in my head right now because just you with me, like this, is driving me towards showing you instead."
"Close the door, then," I whisper.
"No. Not today. Not in the middle of all this. I want you to myself, just for a few hours, away from the other guys. Maybe that’s selfish, but it’s true. I don’t mean that I’m jealous because I know how we all have something different to give you. It’s just..." He sighs. "I’m not explaining myself well, am I?"
I place my finger on his lips. "I understand. How about just a kiss?"
I hardly get the words out before Joss's mouth crashes on mine, wiping the confusion over the whole situation away. The suddenness matches my surprising, overwhelming need to respond. I grab Joss round the neck and kiss him back. Hard. He grips my hair in his fist, holding my head so I can't move, deepening his kiss. His resolve is snatched away; I can tell by the intensity of the moment, and I relish the way his tongue explores my mouth, sharing the intoxication.
Joss holds my waist with his other arm and pulls me onto his lap. I dig my fingers into his shoulders, and the kiss continues; neither of us stopping for air.
His hands roam to my backside, and he shifts below me. When I dive my hands beneath his T-shirt and drag my nails across his abs, Joss pulls his mouth away. Our hot, heavy breaths mingle as he rests his forehead on mine.
"Just a kiss isn’t possible, Vee. You have no fucking idea what you do to me."
I shuffle from side to side on top of him. "I can feel what I do to you, Joss. I know you want to fuck me."
He groans and pushes me back onto the bed, nudging my legs apart with his knee. "Shush! Don’t say things like that." He studies me, eyes darkened by the need to let go. "Seriously, my self-control is crap right now."
"Well, maybe it’s a good thing the bedroom door is open." I chew my lip and wait for his response.
Joss takes a ragged breath. "If you let me close the bedroom door, I won’t be responsible for my actions."
I push him away from me. "Close the door, Joss."
17
VEE
Since the stakes shifted in the world, we haven't had the misfortune of an audience with Portia. She's refused to meet us or Ripley, and she moved herself and family to the fae court in London. There, the more powerful wards provide greater protection than her suburban home and security guards. I'm surprised she agreed to co-operate at all, and it sounds like Logan hasn’t been one hundred percent honest with her. I won't be surprised if today ends that co-operation.
Especially following Ewan’s chat with Logan about the bodies in the desert. Logan has no choice but to tell Portia everything now, because she didn’t know they were there. These were his ‘troops’.
The morning after Seth’s communication, our urgency increases. Xander receives news from Syv that her and the Collector are safe and will hopefully locate the stone today. We're all on edge over what might happen. Although the Collector could probably defend himself against Seth or anybody he sends after them, we don’t know if he’s anywhere near as powerful as we are.
Xander also receives an excruciating phone call from Portia, which we can hear from across the kitchen. He repeatedly tells her to calm down and ‘we need to meet and talk about this’ before giving up and holding the phone away from his ear. He pulls a face at us and rolls his eyes. I can't help laughing at the scene, as if he's a husband who can’t stand listening to an earful from his wife.
Eventually she quiets and Xander wanders from the room to the next, resuming the conversation.
"He's doing well," I say to the other guys.
Ewan looks over from where he's organising weapons on the table, lining up and inspecting daggers—and guns, which is something I don't often see. "You mean he’s being polite to the woman he doesn't like?"
"No, I mean with keeping hold of the War who negotiates and strategises rather than storms in or tries to push his opinion on people."
"I think he knows that won't work in this situation," says Heath. "But I agree, this isn't like my brother at all."
Joss, sitting besides Ewan, picks up a gun and examines it. "I'm not looking forward to the next little get-together with our new friends."
"I suggest you leave that behind!" I point at the gun.
Joss laughs. "Of course."
"As long as Xander persuades her to meet the Order too," says Ewan.
"Did Logan manage to convince her that Chaos was behind the assassination attempt and not the Order?" asks Heath.
Ewan snorts. "I think that will probably be the last thing on the agenda, after they have a ‘nice chat’ about how Logan went behind her back and created an army of powerful fae. If I were her, I'd have him locked away—or dead."
Heath chuckles. "Well, has anybody heard from him since Scotland?"
Xander wanders back into the room and tosses his phone on the table, hair messed from repeatedly rubbing his hand across his head.
"Logan had the balls to talk to her first. She's pissed off and doesn't want to be involved anymore."
"What?" asks Heath incredulously.
"But... I've persuaded her to meet with us all. Maybe between us we can convince her to help."
"All? Ripley too?"
"Yes. Apparently she has news for us."
"Uh oh."
"More theatrics, I'll bet," mutters Ewan. "She doesn't give a shit about half her subjects. I bet she's using this as an excuse to duck out of the dirty work."
"Maybe, but at least if we all sit down together we may persuade her otherwise."
"Any more word from Seth, Ewan?"
He shakes his head. "We've little time until that storm hits. I hope Syv gets back soon. And in one piece."
"I'm sure she will," Joss replies.
I trace a pattern on the table with my finger. I'm not as confident but keep the thoughts to myself.
XANDER
Portia and Ripley debated over where the meeting should be held, and Ripley backed down to meet where Portia wanted. Our get-together is arranged for the same afternoon, at one of the larger, fae-owned law firms in the City. Walking through the bright and airy offices, it was easier to spot humans and fae based on their reaction to us. The fae watched with suspicion, the humans with interest. Four casually dressed guys each showing the strain of recent days, and Vee in jeans marched through. I bet they think we're dodgy clients.
Logan already waits with a second man, in a scene reminiscent of our meeting at Alasdair's house. I don't recognise him until he speaks. However, and whoever, he hides himself as, Ripley's voice is always recognisable. I'm amused he's chosen a younger model this time, as if he's attempting to fit our look. Perhaps posing as a good looking twenty-something guy helps Ripley persuade people to do what he wants—or allows him to stea
l their gym-fit bodies? As his dark brown eyes meet mine, and his cheeks dimple into a smile, I shudder to think what’s happened to the man he’s claimed this time.
Ewan seems to catch my thoughts. "What happened to Alasdair?"
Ripley blows air into his cheeks. "I told you, I was only borrowing him. Alasdair's fine; he'll be released from hospital soon. Poor guy, quite delirious. Anyone would think he'd taken some of the drugs he fights against."
I close my eyes. Great.
"You'd better not be killing people," I snap, "or this arrangement is off."
Ripley tips his chair back and places his boots on the table, hands behind his head and elbows at right angles. "No. I'm hurt that you asked me the question. I told you—ceasefire. Let me ask you the same: have you killed demons?"
"No."
I bite down on my lip. Does the one working for Seth count?
"Then our truce stands."
I scowl and look to Logan. "How're things in the fae world?"
He narrows his eyes at my snide comment. "There's some friction."
Ewan coughs a laugh. "I'll bet."
"Where's Breanna?" asks Heath, looking around.
"We don't know," says Ripley. I tense. With Seth? Do we trust her? "Like the Collector, she's her own person. She will be researching, I imagine."
"Researching what? We need the help she offered."
Ripley shrugs and pulls a face. "Who cares, as long as whatever she’s doing also helps us."
"Do you trust her?" asks Joss.
"As much as I trust you." Ripley looks down his nose at Joss.
Mutual feeling, mate. After the weeks with Seth, I don’t trust anyone new, including Breanna.
The door opens, and Portia walks into the law firm's conference room, flanked by two bodyguards. She's dressed immaculately in a short black coat and hair swept up as if she's a blonde Audrey Hepburn. Her red-painted mouth thins as she undoes buttons, eyes fixed on the group. They land on the demon.