by H A Titus
We couldn't waste this opportunity.
Fear gnawed at my stomach as I took a few steps forward, then glanced over my shoulder.
Eliaster straightened, eyes narrowing.
"You coming or not?" I demanded.
He sighed, then pulled a small flashlight from his pocket and clicked it on. I flicked on my phone's flashlight, then cautiously stepped on the downed fence. It jingled under my feet.
Eliaster huffed a breath behind me. "Yeah, let's go after the crazy relic-user Unseelie without anyone else. Sounds like a fantastic idea … and will you at least let me go first?" He shoved in front of me. "Damnaigh, you're going to get yourself killed."
"I don't want to lose this lead," I snapped.
"I get it," he said, not looking back at me.
I sighed, following him into what had once been a parking lot. The old concrete had cracked and tufts of grass grew all over it.
A gaping dark hole stood in the crumbling brick where a dock door had once been. The dock was still there, chunks missing from the edges of the concrete structure. We hoisted ourselves up on it.
Eliaster drew his knife, and we stepped into the building. Despite the evening sun, the interior of the building was dark enough to make me squint.
I flicked my flashlight along the walls. The huge, open space stretched in front of us, interspersed with concrete support pillars in regular intervals. Some splintering wooden tables had been stacked in a corner, mold growing over them. But for the most part, the place was empty. Our flashlights threw faint circles of light on the opposite wall, about a hundred yards away.
Eliaster growled. "He could be anywhere in—hey. You hear that?"
I stopped walking and tipped my head to the side, holding my breath. For a moment, I didn't hear anything. Then, faintly, the shuffle of a footstep echoed around the large, empty space, making it impossible to figure out where the sound originated.
Eliaster shone his flashlight to the side, revealing a staircase with a metal railing around the top. He crept forward and poked his head over the railing.
I stepped close to him. Reddish light streamed through the open bay door, casting a fading rectangle on the floor. Dust motes danced, sparkling in the sunbeam. And down the stairs, I caught sight of a faint line of light—a door, just barely cracked open. The low murmur of voices came from the room beyond. I drew my gun from underneath my jacket.
Eliaster moved around the railing and started down the chipped steps.
I followed, tightening all but my trigger finger around the gun grip.
Something scuffled behind us. I jerked to the side just in time to avoid a huge metal flashlight whipping at my head. The flashlight struck Eliaster on the shoulder, and he pitched forward into the stairwell with a yelp.
I extended my arms, pointing my gun at Shaughnessy's abdomen. "Step back! Eliaster, you okay?"
Eliaster groaned.
Shaughnessy just stood there, still clutching the metal flashlight with one hand. He grinned. I tightened my grip on the pistol but kept my finger steady on the trigger. My hands shook, and I could feel the sweat on my palms, making the pistol grip slick. My vision tunneled.
No, no, no, not now! I couldn't get a flashback now.
"Eliaster?" I said, my voice pitching higher. I tried to steady my breathing. I had to slow my pulse rate. Blood thundered in my fingertips and temples.
Shaughnessy took a step forward.
"Back up!" I snapped, shuffling my feet into a slightly wider stance. I was gonna have to shoot him. Just like I'd shot the goblin. I could do this. I had to.
"Drop the gun," he said, raising his left hand. Even with the low light, the ring on his finger glimmered.
"Or what? You'll zap me with that? Good luck—you have to touch people to get that to work. I'm not completely stupid."
"No, just stupid enough."
Before I could answer, an arm snapped around my throat. I jerked, more out of shock than an attempt to get away, but stilled when the point of a knife dug into my ribcage. Where was Eliaster? Why wasn't he—
"Drop the gun."
My blood ran cold. "Eliaster?" I whispered.
CHAPTER 16
JOSH
The knife dug through my jacket and nicked a bit of skin.
"Drop it," Eliaster snarled in my ear.
"Okay, okay," I muttered. I took my finger off the trigger and extended my arm. Shaughnessy stepped forward, and, for a split second, I considered jerking it back and aiming it at Eliaster.
No. This made no sense. I glanced over at Shaughnessy. Even in the dim light, I could see the ring glinting on his finger. I went cold.
The ring must be one of the enslavement relics that Tadhg had talked about.
Shaughnessy wrenched the gun away from me and motioned behind. "Down the stairs."
Eliaster stepped backward, and I stumbled along with him as best as I could. He shouldered open the door and dragged me into the brightly lit room. I blinked against the sudden glare as voices exploded around us.
"Galen?"
"Who are these people? What's going on?"
"Relax," Shaughnessy ordered, stepping into the room and shutting the door behind him. He spoke to Eliaster, too rapidly for me to understand, and Eliaster dragged me to the side. I caught a quick glimpse of a mid-size room made up of white cement blocks, the paint thick and peeling, and a few other fae clustered at the other side of the room, near rusting metal shelves. Then Eliaster shoved me.
I staggered, hit the corner with my shoulder, and sank to my knees. I kept my eyes on the floor, not willing to antagonize Shaughnessy by seeming too curious. The ache from hitting my chin earlier spread up my face, probably made worse by my clenched jaw.
"Later," Shaughnessy was saying. "I can't explain and maintain my grip on that one's mind. Just start packing."
Murmurs of compliance, and the rustling of packing materials, accompanied his orders. I glanced under my arm. The other fae were pulling things from the shelves, rolling them in layers of bubble wrap, and placing them in boxes.
I took a deep breath in. "Relics," I whispered.
At that, Eliaster stepped back, the grip on his knife slackening.
"Ah, ah, ah." Shaughnessy held up his hand, and the gem in his ring flared with light.
Eliaster snarled. Crap. Before I could duck, he grabbed the collar of my shirt and yanked me upright. Shaughnessy nodded and went back to talking to one of the others in a low tone.
That stupid ring. How was he even controlling Eliaster with it? Shaughnessy'd had no time to touch him. And why was it only working on him? It made absolutely no sense.
"Eliaster," I whispered. "Dude, you gotta let me go."
I could feel him trembling, and, for a second, I thought my words had gotten through to him. Then suddenly he spun, slammed me against the wall, fingers fitting around my neck, and shoved the point of his knife under my chin, lifting my head back. I gagged and kicked at him, but he leaned away. His eyes were a maelstrom of green, and his arms shook.
Doggone it, why couldn't I have waited five minutes for the others?
"That's enough!" Shaughnessy yelled at him.
Eliaster eased the knife away, but didn't loosen his grip. I grabbed his wrist and tried to pry his hand free. He leaned all his weight against my throat, and I couldn't get enough leverage to push him away. I could barely even breathe.
Both times Shaughnessy had moved his attention away from Eliaster, my friend's grip had slacked a little. If I could get his attention long enough and time it right, maybe I could free myself of Eliaster's hold. And maybe I could buy enough time for the others to get here.
"How are you doing this?" I asked.
Shaughnessy laughed. "What, are you hoping I'll monologue long enough to give you a chance to get free?"
Well, yeah, that had kind of been the plan.
"We're ready to load up the van," someone told Shaughnessy.
"Sounds good. Get moving. I need to deal with these tw
o."
I tried to push Eliaster away again. I looked past him at Shaughnessy, held up my hands. "Call it professional curiosity. I assumed that the ring only worked with touch, but unless you call hitting someone on the shoulder with a flashlight a touch, then I guess I was wrong."
Shaughnessy chuckled and shook his head. "I have to admit, I'm a little curious as well. I sent out a strong thread of glamour—if it affected your fae buddy, it should've affected your human mind as well. You should be tearing each other's throats out right now." He stood and swung the backpack to his shoulders, then squinted at me. "Not even curators have this kind of power."
I shrugged, keeping my arms loose and at my sides. My bracelet shifted on my wrist, and I fought the urge to hide it. If, like Aileen thought, it protected me from glamour, then it was the only chance I had.
"Well, as curious as I am, I think Kansas City's finally gotten too hot for me." Shaughnessy waited as the last of his buddies left, then closed the door behind him. He stepped over to us and put his hand on Eliaster's shoulder. "Maraigh é."
Oh no. Bile rose to the back of my throat. I knew that phrase: Kill him.
Eliaster's hand around my neck twitched. A spasm made his face tremble. His arms started shaking again.
Galen clenched his fist. "I am your rialóir! Maraigh é!"
Rialóir, ruler. Yeah, definitely an enslavement glamour. I made eye contact with Eliaster, tried to search for my friend's real self, hidden behind the blazing anger and terror.
His hand tightened.
He was in there. He had to be.
I reached out and put my hands on his shoulders. Pushed. I had to get through to him before he strangled me. "Eliaster? Eliaster, listen to me. You can fight this. He's in your head, messing with your mind, but you're stronger than this, you can—"
Shaughnessy snarled.
Eliaster's thumb pressed into my windpipe, cutting off my voice. And my air.
Panic arced through me like electricity. I tried to twist away from Eliaster's grip. Grabbed his arm, digging my fingers into his elbow joint. "Eliaster! Eliaster, stop it!"
Another spasm crossed Eliaster's face. Then he swung the knife up, the blade arcing for my face.
I yelped and dropped to my knees. Whether it was because of my sudden weight shift, or because his hand had loosened, the move broke his grip, and Eliaster staggered. The knife hit the cinderblock wall with a grating sound.
I scrambled away from him. He swung around, following me, knife held out to the side. I crouched, held my hands out.
"Eliaster, please listen to me!"
He swung.
I scrambled backward, trying to remember our sparring sessions. I'd have to be quick—Eliaster liked to attack relentlessly, not giving his opponent time to recover.
Sure enough, he followed the knife swing up with a punch. I dodged it, and the next time he raised the knife, I grabbed at his wrist, trying to twist the knife out of his hand. He followed the motion, spinning around and slamming his shoulder into my torso. I folded, breath huffing out of my lungs. He hooked a foot around my leg, and my back slammed into the concrete floor. I groaned, trying to roll to my side, but he planted a knee in my chest and grabbed my hair, jerking my head back.
"Eliaster, stad!" I yelled. "Éreigh as!"
His hand hitched, and it was just enough. I shoved myself forward, slamming my forehead into his face. Stars burst again in my vision, but the blow threw Eliaster off me. The knife clinked to the floor. He rolled on the ground, clutching his nose. I scrambled to my feet and grabbed the knife.
Shaughnessy backed away from me, bringing the gun up to bear at my chest. "Stay where you are!"
Eliaster tried to grab my leg, and I kicked him in the ribs, harder than intended. I tried to hold back, but at this point, I couldn't let him pin me again. He rolled, tried to get up, and fell back to his stomach, one hand still trying to hold back the blood gushing from his nose. I cringed at his groan as I turned back to Shaughnessy.
The redheaded fae's eyes swirled with every shade of blue, the gun in his outstretched hands steady and trained right at my heart.
"Why?" I asked. "Why are you doing this?"
"Because I can," Shaughnessy snapped. "This power, using glamour in this way? It's the way of our ancestors. Eliaster, Keelin, they're weak. They'd never use glamour in this way, the way it was meant to be used. The Tuatha De Danan ruled this world as well as Tir Ni-all, and you pathetic curators would have us stand down from that power?" He shook his head. "No. Not a chance. It's unbelievable that you'd even ask—like asking a wolf to ignore a trespasser on his territory. Humans have weak minds—the sidhé deserve to rule over them!"
"Except for me, apparently."
"You're different. You're a curator. They have weird powers, weird immunities …"
I took a deep breath. And there was my opening. I shook my head and, at the same time, readjusted my grip on the knife. "No, I'm not. I never even knew the Underworld existed until a few months ago."
Shaughnessy's hand faltered, and surprise flicked across his face.
Surprised you, huh? I lunged forward, using my free arm to knock his gun hand to the side. The gun went off, and the shock wave slamming into my ear nearly took me down, but I plowed forward into him. We tumbled to the ground, and I grabbed his left wrist. I had to get the ring off his finger.
He booted me in the gut, throwing me several feet. I crashed on my side and rolled, thudding into Eliaster. Eliaster rolled, trying to get his hands underneath his body.
"Fóill ort!" Shaughnessy snarled.
Eliaster groaned and curled into a ball, wrapping his arms around his head.
I gasped, trying to suck air back into my lungs. Everything hurt, and my limbs felt heavy, weighted down from the kick. I rolled to my hands and knees, tried to get up. Saw the pistol coming at me too late. The barrel crunched into the side of my face, knocking me down onto my back. I curled up, cradling my head. It hurt. It hurt so badly I could barely think.
"I'm sorry," Eliaster croaked beside me. "Josh, I'm so sorry."
"Touching," Shaughnessy snarled, getting to his feet and scooping up the gun. He cocked it and pointed it at Eliaster's head.
The metal door burst open, and Banshee sprinted into the room. She lunged at Shaughnessy. I flinched and shielded my face. A shot echoed in the room, then the thud of a body hitting the ground. I looked up.
Banshee had Shaughnessy pinned to the floor. The red-haired fae thrashed and squirmed, and suddenly the light in his ring flared. Banshee jerked back, flopping off Shaughnessy like a useless rag doll.
Shaughnessy scrambled up the stairs. I dashed after him, past Banshee. Adam stood in the doorway of the factory. He spun at the sound of footsteps. I was suddenly aware of other voices, other sounds of battle in the warehouse. Then Shaughnessy reached out for Adam and my focus narrowed again.
I lunged, hit Shaughnessy in the lower back with my shoulder. We tumbled forward, rolling off the loading dock and hitting the asphalt below. I scrambled up on my hands and knees and pulled my hand back for a punch.
His fingers snaked around my wrist.
Glamour burst around us, and something cold curled up my arm. I looked down. Blue, glowing vines snaked from his fingers, wrapping my arm, but almost as soon as I looked, they flashed green, turned brown and shattered into wisps of dull smoke.
My fist connected into his stomach.
Shaughnessy doubled over, gagging, and let go of my wrist.
I scuttled away from him, panting. Those vines. Those vines had been in my dreams. I rubbed my wrist, felt the cold metal of my bracelet.
Adam jumped down beside me and grabbed Shaughnessy's arm, hauling him to his feet. Adam looked down at me. "You okay?"
I nodded. My legs shook. I leaned against the loading dock, rubbed my hands over my face. My hands wouldn't stop trembling, and after-images of those glowing vines flashed in the corners of my eyes.
Someone groaned from inside the factory, and my
stomach dropped. "Eliaster!"
I pulled myself up onto the loading dock and raced inside. Banshee helped Eliaster up the steps. He collapsed to the ground at the top of them.
"I'll get the medical kit," Banshee said, walking past me.
I crouched at his side. Blood still trickled from his nose, and he held his ribs. I waited until she was out of earshot, then crouched beside Eliaster and lowered my voice. "Do you remember what happened?"
"Bits and pieces. Crap, Josh, I'm sorry."
I swallowed back the lump in my throat. "No, I'm a crow-eaten idiot. We should've waited for backup like you said."
He glanced up at me. "You okay? You look kinda pale."
I shook my head. "I'm good. You?"
"I think you broke a rib."
"At least it wasn't your face," I pointed out.
Eliaster let out a sharp bark of laughter, then hunched forward, scrunching up his face.
"Sorry."
"Forget it. You did what you had to do."
A flashlight flared, and Tadhg walked over to us and crouched down, eyes critical and examining. "Where'd he get hit?"
I tried to remember. "Ribs. Umm—I got his nose pretty good too."
"I can see that. And you call yourself a warrior, Tyrone." Tadhg helped Eliaster sit up and pressed his side.
"Ow!" Eliaster glared at him, and I noticed his eyes were slightly bloodshot.
"Yeah, probably broken. Can you stand?"
Eliaster shoved him away and got to his feet, smearing the blood on his face as he wiped his hand across his mouth. "Where's Shaughnessy?"
"Adam's got him."
Tadhg grunted and gave me a grudging look. "Wouldn't have if you hadn't tackled him off the loading dock."
Eliaster glanced up at me. "Nice."
I grinned.
Banshee came back into the factory, carrying a white, plastic-sided medical kit. "Adam's got Shaughnessy." She crouched in front of Eliaster. "How's your side?" Her voice actually sounded a little soft, concerned. She tried to touch his side. "Lift your shirt."
Eliaster made eye contact with her, and something flickered deep in both of their eyes. He batted her hands away. "My shirt's staying where it is."