by A. E. Lowan
Lana’s eyes widened. “How could you not?”
“Etienne!”
Etienne looked to see Cian standing at the bottom of the stairs, fully dressed and looking upset. “Cian, go back to bed.”
“I heard her say Senán’s name.”
“Is that The Glorious Dawn?” Her voice was breathy with shock.
Etienne turned and gripped her arm, leaning into the enchantments on the rig to squeeze just short of crushing the long bone. Her knees buckled and she cried out in pain, but he held her weight. “If that name leaves this room, no hole in any realm will be deep enough to hide you from me.”
Cian crossed the room, alarm painted across his face. “Etienne, stop!”
Lana had begun to nod in a frantic manner, her breathing shallow and fast. Etienne took her other arm and lifted a little, settling her securely on her feet as he released her. She backed away from him until she hit the desk, her hand clasped protectively over her hurt arm. “I cannot let Midir know Cian is here,” he said to her. He was not apologizing. He would do worse to keep Cian safe. “I’m only here for Senán. Nothing more. Anluan is a big king, he can take care of himself.” Etienne felt his mouth twist. It wasn’t a smile. “And if he should fall I’ll be the first to celebrate.”
“Etienne!”
“Cian, you know how I feel about this.”
Her eyes darted about as she thought. “Well, you’ll have to face Midir if you want to get Senán back…”
“How’s that? He’s talking, dating you – obviously he’s been free to move about on his own. It doesn’t look to me like he’s much of a prisoner.”
“But if that’s true,” Cian asked, a worried look on his pretty face, “then why hasn’t he gone home?”
“You’ve met his parents.”
Cian frowned at Etienne.
“Because he doesn’t know who and what he is,” Lana answered. “He thinks he’s human, that he really is Jeremy Moore.”
“We have to tell him the truth!” said Cian. “We have to take him home.”
“Is it an enchantment?” Etienne asked.
Lana held up her hands. “I haven’t found a magical signature on him to indicate it might be, but I’m not much of a magician. Most of my magic is inherent.”
Etienne narrowed his eyes. “What is your other half?” The inviting smile, the curves too lush for any sidhe woman… he had a suspicion.
She hesitated, and then raised her chin. “Lhiannon sidhe.”
“Fucking wonderful,” he said with full disgust.
“What?” asked Cian.
“It’s great to see racism is alive and well among the half-breeds,” she spat.
Etienne sneered at her. "At least the Seelie don't hunt the weak among us along the corridors of our courts."
"Oh?" Lana replied, taking a mocking tone. "Scarred yourself then, did you?"
Etienne flipped an obscene gesture at her and said to Cian. “She’s Unseelie. Lhiannon sidhe, sweetheart faeries, are succubae.”
“What’s racism?” Cian asked, repeating the English word.
Etienne waved his hand, not wanting to get into it. It was a new word for him, too, and as a human concept he really did not understand it. Human was human, as far as he knew. But the various races of fae were different. Those aligned with the evil Unseelie were untrustworthy and dangerous. He glared at her and got back on topic. “Fine, Senán doesn’t know who he is. Why does this have anything to do with Midir if he’s moving freely about the city? Bring him here and we’ll deal with it.” Unless she was trying to cover up what damage she had already done to him, of course. Could she feed on Senán without Midir knowing? Would Midir care? He had no idea. He knew some things about succubae, but not everything.
“Because Midir’s very angry with him right now, so I don’t think he’ll be going anywhere freely anytime soon. Besides, Samhain is coming right up and that rift will open. He’ll be back in Faerie at the head of an army. You’re running out of time.”
Etienne frowned. Well… shit. He drummed his fingers over his bicep, thinking for a long moment, and then shook his head. “Then that’s that. I’m not risking Cian’s safety for Senán. It’s done.”
“Etienne, we can’t leave him!”
“He’s your brother!”
Etienne gritted his teeth against both voices of protest and raised his hand. “Cian, no, we can. You’re much more important to me. And you,” he pointed at Lana. “I’ve never even met him and the blood I share with him is through a viper of a woman, so how can I be that invested in the boy? What do you want with him? Are you in love with him?” Part of him wanted her to be. That he had not uprooted Cian and brought him this close to danger for nothing. For someone worthwhile of a woman’s love and not just the son of Anluan.
The laugh that escaped was sudden and harsh. Her eyes widened a bit and then narrowed with anger. “No. He’s a self-indulgent little prick who’s only interested in his own pleasure. And when a succubus doesn’t like fucking you, that’s saying something. He uses glamour to rape mortal women, and not only does he not even realize it, I don’t think realizing it would make him stop.”
“So, he takes after his father.” Of course he did.
“Etienne, how can you say that?” Cian looked appalled.
“Because I’ve known Anluan longer than you have.”
“But Senán’s my friend. He’s not like that.”
“Cian, you haven’t seen him since you were barely an adolescent. You can’t…”
“Yes! Yes, I can! You never knew him.” He looked from Etienne to Lana and back, and shook his head, his face flushed with anger. “He’s not like that. He wouldn’t do that.”
Etienne uncrossed his arms and reached a hand out to Cian. “Do you mean Senán or Anluan?” he asked in a gentler voice. Cian shivered a little under his fingers. He glanced at Lana and squeezed Cian’s arm. “We’ll talk about this later.”
Cian pulled away, frowning. “I’m going outside.” He said it with no question in his tone, no request for permission. He just turned and headed out the back door.
Etienne sighed. “Stay in the courtyard.”
The door slammed.
“What was that all about?”
Etienne scowled at her. “If you don’t want Senán, what do you want?” Cian’s trauma was none of her damn business.
That pert chin went up again. “I want Midir.”
He couldn’t help it. He laughed at her. “You?” he gasped out between chuckles. “Want Midir the Proud? Elder Son of Dagda?”
She remained silent.
He wiped his eyes as the last of the laughter left him. “You do realize you’re a half-breed. Maybe you’re a stronger one than I am, but you still don’t stand a chance up against a full sidhe.”
A small smirk pulled at the corner of her mouth. “I have the named blade Keeper. Even Midir can’t stand against it.”
That brought Etienne up short. He had heard of Keeper. It was an ancient sword, incapable of delivering a mortal wound but it rendered its victims completely helpless. “How did you get it? By which I’m asking, ‘Who did you anger?’ Because you didn’t come by it honestly.”
She could give great blank face, he had to give her some credit. “Ceallach is its caretaker. He won’t be sorry to see Midir spitted on its blade and brought before him on his knees.”
Etienne had to admit to himself that that was a very tempting image. After what Midir had done to Cian, after years of sitting through nightmare-filled nights with the boy, after finding the ruin and horror of what the great prince had done to a boy who had been little more than a child – Etienne wanted to be the one to drive the blade home, himself. Ceallach was an Unseelie king, and he had heard tales of the tortures the Unseelie could inflict.
He fleetingly wondered if this Ceallach would let him watch.
He pulled himself from his little daydream and riveted his gaze on the succubus. “You’ve gone to great lengths to capture him. Why?�
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She looked away. “That’s my concern. Suffice it to say I have a vested interest.”
“Look, tempting as it might be that you have Keeper, you also have no plan and, according to you, there’s an army in that building standing between just the two of us and Midir.”
“Your reputation says you’re crazy enough to do it.” Lana raised her brows with just a hint of invitation.
Etienne was still not interested. “No, my reputation just says I’m crazy.”
“You’re a knight. Where is your honor?”
He gave her a sour look. “If you know so much about my reputation, you know I have none.”
“You’ve fought and killed the last four sidhe lords to challenge you. If not for honor…”
He cut her off with a wave of his hand. “Listen, I’m only going to say this once. I’m not a duelist. I’m a killer. I fight for one reason and one reason only – to make everyone leave me the fuck alone.”
“What about the wizard that’s usually here?”
He shook his head. “She’s not that kind of wizard.”
“How about the little fat one? She looks feisty.”
Etienne scowled. “So what if she’s fat? And she’s only half trained. Winter won’t let her go.”
“She’s really fat,” Lana muttered.
But Etienne had turned his attention away, uneasy. He had heard something.
Cian stalked around the small courtyard before the parking lot, the soggy grass squelching under his boots. He did not want to cry, but tears of anger and fear welled up of their own accord. He dashed them away with the back of his hand and wanted to kick the door, but that would only bring Etienne out here. He did not want to see him right now.
Etienne hated Anluan. He knew that, had known that for years. But Uncle Anluan had raised Cian after his parents died and had always been kind to him. He had chosen Cian to be Senán’s companion, even though his father Eoin had been the youngest of Dagda’s sons and little more than a faerie knight, a prince in name only. Etienne said Anluan was using him, that he had been holding him back – and Cian did not like admitting it, but it was true that his education had focused on music and poetry while Senán had gone to study with the weapons trainers. But he was also younger than Senán! Maybe Anluan just hadn’t found the right trainer for him, yet. Though Senán had been studying war and tactics and the princely arts since he was old enough to sit at table… But Etienne always said awful things about Anluan! He always let his prejudices against his step-father make him petty.
And on the rare occasion he spoke about his mother, Anluan’s Queen Niahm, his comments were short and venomous. Cian had not had much occasion to see his Aunt Niahm, but what little he had seen of her she had not seemed so bad. Remote, maybe, but not the woman Etienne described. Cian could not imagine talking about his own mother like that. Even though he had no memory of her, Edaine of the Waters was celebrated in so many songs and poems that he felt she had always been part of his childhood. She had chosen to fade to mist and memory when his father was killed in battle, rather than live without her love. Etienne said he had never met her, but Cian could tell by the way he said it that Etienne did not think highly of her.
And then this Unseelie woman came along and said horrible things about Senán, accused him of awful things, and Etienne just agreed with her! Like there was no doubt in his mind that his own brother would… would do those things, be that way! Cian kicked a stick. It was wet and rotted, and broke apart rather than fly from his anger. Very unsatisfying.
How could Etienne do that? Senán was Cian’s friend, his only real friend until Etienne had rescued him after… Cian’s mind automatically flinched away from the memories. He remembered how much Etienne had looked like Senán, how much it had grieved him for so long, thinking Senán was dead. He thought Midir had killed him, like he himself had been left for dead. Etienne had refused to return to look for the body. He had said it was too dangerous and that they had to keep putting distance between themselves and Midir, but by then they had been miles away. After they had found the picture, Cian knew he had made a horrible mistake, that he should have somehow made Etienne go back. He had left his friend to that monster.
That had to be it; the reason Senán was hurting those women. It was Midir. He was making him do it, somehow. Yes, that had to be it. Cian’s stomach churned and his mind turned away again; it hurt to think of his friend doing what Midir had done to him.
How could Etienne not care about Senán? Even though Etienne had never met him, they had the same mother. “What’s wrong with him?” he muttered, shooting a glare at the door.
“What, indeed?”
Cian froze at the voice behind him that came straight from his nightmares. He wanted to cry out, to move, but he couldn’t catch a breath. His frantic heartbeat thundered in his ears – surely Etienne would hear it.
“I had so hoped to find you again, Cian.” Midir’s voice was low and smooth, taunting. “I thought you were dead. Imagine my surprise at seeing you alive and well, sitting on that motorcycle.”
Cian felt as if he had been dunked in ice. The helmet. Etienne had told him…
“Come along, now, we’ve not much time.” Midir’s hand was hot on the chilled skin of his neck.
The touch shocked Cian out of his freeze. He jerked away from Midir and ran for the door. “Et…!”
Midir’s hand clamped down over his mouth, stifling his cry, and his fingers dug with bruising force into Cian’s face. His other hand gripped Cian’s left arm, finding a pressure point at the joint and grinding down as Cian made helpless pain noises. Then Cian felt a flash of magic course from his head down his spine and he was pulled into darkness.
Etienne pushed open the door. “Cian?”
But the courtyard was empty.
Unease began to border on panic and Etienne moved outside. “Cian!” There was just the strip of wet grass and the cars in the parking lot. If he was sulking down between the parked cars Etienne would throttle the boy. But why would he do that? Being that close to that much steel would be uncomfortable for him. It was the reason for the motorcycle. Riding the bike was preferable to being enclosed for long periods. Etienne started for the parking lot, anyway. Adolescents sometimes did not make smart choices, and even though Cian was particularly sensible he had started talking back and rolling his eyes…
But a quick walk through the small lot soon proved Cian was not there. Etienne felt himself becoming more frantic. Cian knew better than to wander off. When he told the boy to stay in a place, he stayed. What would be different about today? That he was angry at him? Cian had never been angry at him before. Etienne looked up at the second story windows that were the only eyes looking down on the courtyard. Even in the predawn, maybe someone had seen where Cian had stalked off to. Maybe he had just gone back over to Katherine’s. The thought both relaxed and annoyed him. The boy should know better than to impose…
Lana had emerged into the courtyard, edging away from the doorway. In her hand she held a small pink card. As he neared she smiled at him and held it out. “I’ll let you go find the kid. Here’s my number…”
But Etienne was caught by something about her. It was the way she was shifting her body subtly away from him, the way her eyes flickered past him once, twice, as if looking for a way out. He was moving before the thought finished, his left hand around her neck as he shoved her back against the brick wall. “What did you do?” he demanded.
“I didn’t do anything to your friend!” She had her smaller hands wrapped around his wrist, trying to pry him off her with remarkable strength. It hurt where her fingers ground against his bones, tearing the shirt under her nails. She could probably succeed, if given enough time. But Etienne was angry.
He pulled back and shoved her against the wall again with teeth-rattling force. “I didn’t ask what you didn’t do. I know you can’t lie. I asked what you did.”
She responded by going still under his hand. Etienne felt somethin
g shivery pass through him and as he watched her black hair lightened to a buttery brown, her eyes softened and brightened as she looked up at him. Her face became sweeter and her body became even smaller and rounder.
His breath caught as he realized what he was seeing. “Bess.” The face he had forgotten, her beloved face, was forming right before his eyes. His vision swam with tears and he blinked, desperate to see clearly. To see her face again.
She smiled as she changed, tried to slip his hand from her neck… and it was wrong. His rage flared higher, and he reached under his arm for his weapon. Panic and recognition filled her bright colored eyes. “Agmundr,” she gasped, pressing herself against the bricks.
“How dare you try to take my wife’s form, succubus!”
“How?” Terror was causing her to bleed from one form to another, shifting under Etienne’s hand, her eyes riveted on Agmundr’s barrel. “You shouldn’t have seen that.”
Etienne cocked the revolver’s hammer. “That’s not my problem. You are. Now, answer my question – what did you do?” As enraged as he was about how she had tried to violate his wife’s memory, he had to set it aside, too. For now. For Cian. He thought back to the way she had been dancing with anxiety at the shop door. “Who followed you?”
Lana seemed to wilt in his grasp. She shuddered, her eyes never leaving the revolver, and answered, “I’m not certain…” She was quiet for a long moment, and just as he tightened his grip to shake her she spoke again, her dark eyes dulling. “But Midir caught me as I discovered the rift in the basement of his building with Senán. I threw Senán at him and his companion to make my escape. Midir is very capable of tracking me – it’s why I came to you for help.”
Horror washed over Etienne. Midir had Cian. Midir had Cian. The thought played over and over in his mind. He had to rescue him!
“I’m so sorry,” her quiet voice intruded on his thoughts. “I didn’t know your friend was The Glorious Dawn.”
“Would that have changed anything?”
Lana looked away for a long moment and then met his eyes. “I don’t know. I was scared, and Midir still needs to be stopped.”