by Keri Arthur
I refilled my glass and then firmly capped the whiskey bottle and put it away. I did not need to be getting drunk just yet. There was still too much we needed to do. “Now that Winter knows we have Riona, Max would have to suspect we suspect. We may not see him again.”
She grimaced. “Most likely, although given his tendency to do the unexpected, he might stick around, if only to gather information.”
“He might keep in contact via the phone, but that’s it.” Max was many things, but he certainly wasn’t a fool. Nor was he slow in the brain department. I dropped back onto the sofa. “None of this sheds any light on why the hell you think I’m the heir—especially if Max does have the sword.”
She wrinkled her nose. “It’s a combination of things, and it’s possible I’m wrong—but we both know how rarely I am.”
I couldn’t help smiling. “Only when it comes to certain Blackbirds, apparently.”
“That, my dear girl, is still a developing situation, and I continue to believe it will be resolved satisfactorily.”
I once again hoped she was right—for the sake of my future selves if nothing else. I did not want to be going through this sort of sexual frustration in yet another lifetime. Of course, said sexual frustration could be easily solved if I was just willing to agree to a casual relationship …
I took a quick drink and ignored the traitorous inner whisper suggesting it was better to have a short but passionate fling than maintain the current drought. “What things are we talking about?”
“For one, the inscription on the throne—it suggests there’s more than one sword of power, and I know for a fact there isn’t. Mryddin and I were there when Vivienne gave it to Aldred.”
Who’d been the first Witch King. “I thought it and the daggers were created in the same forge?”
“They were—just not at the same time.”
“If the sword in the stone is a fake, why wouldn’t you know that? And why would it react magically to heirs? And to me?”
“As I said before, I left Ainslyn after Uhtric re-caged Darkside. The sword he held at that time was the real thing.” She paused to sip her tea. “And the sword in the stone has always reacted to heirs—that’s how kings were chosen. If it is a secondary sword rather than the original, then perhaps that was intentional. Mryddin always did have a penchant for creating magical swords—it was the godly blood in him.”
“I thought he was the result of an incubus and human union?”
“Demon, god, they’re all the same.” She pursed her lips. “I do think the inscription on the stone—”
“The one that’s impossible to read, you mean?”
She smiled. “There you go with that ‘impossible’ word again, but yes. I think it’ll answer at least some of our questions.”
I finished the whiskey, then moved back to the tea. “And the third thing?”
“Your brother’s sudden appearance at the main gateway.”
Which, I remembered, he’d explained before she’d placed her spell—but even without it, I hadn’t really believed him.
I gulped down my tea and found myself fighting the desire to grab some more whiskey. “You think he was there to test the sword?”
“I think it highly likely.”
“He didn’t have it on him in the canyon.”
“Because he’s not a fool. Besides, he would have sensed my magic from the roadside and known we were there.”
“I should’ve fucking followed his car.”
“You wouldn’t have kept up, darling girl. Not in your weakened state.”
I sighed. “So, what are we going to do?”
“Find Gianna and Reign as a matter of priority. If anyone knows for sure what is going on, it’ll be Gianna.”
“Unless she’s just being paid to be an incubator and nursemaid and doesn’t know who the father really is.”
“No intelligent woman these days would go into a deal like this without at least investigating the man and the situation.”
“Wouldn’t it depend on her situation and the money offered? Surely not all Aquitaines are wealthy.”
She wrinkled her nose. “The king’s line has fallen from grace and gold since Layton handed full rule over to human royalty, but I wouldn’t call any of them poor.”
“Their ability to manipulate fire—like our ability to heal—has gone out of fashion since the industrial revolution, though. And even if they can call on all four elements, they can’t do so without a conduit strong enough to withstand the force flowing through them.”
And from the little Mo had said over the years, not only had very few conduits survived to modern times, but the number of people with the knowledge to create them was now limited to the old gods—and they didn’t take a whole lot of interest in the affairs of humans and witches these days.
“All true, but I still don’t believe she would have gone into this without investigation—but we can ask her once we’ve found her. Go kit up while I create the spell.”
“Where did you put Nex and Vita?”
“In your room.” She paused. “Check the backpack for tracer spells and bugs—Max did have it for a good period of time.”
A thick lump of anger and pain threatened to choke me again. I swallowed heavily and was suddenly thankful I had something to do. Having any sort of time to dwell on my brother and all that he might have done—to Mo and me, to our cousins, and to others—would probably have reduced me to an angry, shaking, crying mess for hours on end. “I take it the floor structure up there has now been checked and cleared?”
She nodded. “Keep away from the hole, and you should be fine.”
I handed her the tissue-wrapped hair, then grabbed another biscuit and headed up. My room was still a goddamn mess. There were gigantic holes in both the floor and the ceiling, where the witchling’s magic had caused a collapse, and there was dust, plaster, and wood remnants covering everything else. My mattress—which had been torn off the bed and slashed open by the halflings searching for the papers I’d taken from Jackie’s—partially hung over the edge of the hole, evidence of just how close I’d come to disaster.
I stepped warily into the room, but the floor didn’t crack or bounce. My knives were hanging on the knob of the wardrobe, and the backpack was tucked just behind the door. I grabbed it, tipped out the contents, and then sorted through all the potions, charms, and even the first aid kit. There was nothing that shouldn’t have been there. Relief stirred, but it didn’t last long. When I unzipped the pocket on the side of the pack, I discovered a small silver disk the size of a button battery. Magic stirred across my fingers, a soft caress that tingled rather than burned, which meant a witch who followed the light had created it. I turned it over and studied the spell. It was some kind of tracer, but the design and feel of it was foreign. No witch I knew had made this, but the tell—the signature all witches left in their magic—was strong enough that I’d recognize it if I saw it again.
I sucked in a deep breath and tried to ignore the one very simple question that kept echoing through my brain—Why?
Until Riona’s brother and mother were safe, and the riddle of the sword was solved, we couldn’t risk asking that question. The minute we did ask, he’d go on the offensive. While I really wanted to believe my brother wouldn’t physically hurt either of us, the evidence to the contrary was mounting. The constant attacks from Darkside—be they demon or halfling—certainly suggested family blood wasn’t holding him back in any way. Now, that might be simply because he held no sway over Darkside’s actions, but if he had claimed the sword, surely the elves and the demons would at least play along with his games until the main gate was opened.
I left the pack where it was and went into his room—which was now back to its usual tidy self—to grab one of the old school bags from the back of his cupboard. Max might be a neat freak, but he also tended to be something of a hoarder and never threw anything out that might yet prove useful.
After repacking everything, I qui
ckly changed into my own clothes, then slung the pack over my shoulder, grabbed Nex and Vita as well as the stone knife—which might have been overkill, but given how physically draining the daggers could be, having an option that didn’t deplete my strength was a damn good idea—and then headed back downstairs. Mo remained on the sofa, but a sphere of gold now hovered in the air above the coffee table. Inside it were the pale strands of hair I’d taken from Riona’s brush.
I grabbed my keys from the hook near the stairs and said, “Do you need a hand up?”
“No. And you’re not driving—not after two glasses of whiskey.”
“I’m not drunk—”
“Which doesn’t mean you won’t be over the limit in an hour or so. I’ve called Mia—she’s happy to drive us, and it’ll be handy to have another witch present if things get nasty.”
Mia was a Lancaster, which meant she performed spells and drew on personal strength to give them life. “If things get nasty, she could be in trouble.”
Mo quirked an eyebrow at me. “You’ve been friends with her nearly all your life, and you don’t think she can protect herself?”
“I didn’t say that. I simply meant that personal magic is by its very nature limited in scope.”
“Gwen, stop worrying.” She lifted her booted foot from the coffee table and rose. “Why have you got Max’s old school bag?”
“Because my backpack had a tracer in it.” I handed it to her.
“I’m not familiar with the tell, but I’ll give it to Barney and see if he—or one of the other councilors—can track its creator down.” She shook her head and put the tracer down. “I do wonder where I went wrong with that boy.”
“I hardly think any of this is your fault, Mo.”
She grimaced and carefully picked up the sphere. “Isn’t it? I raised him. If I’d spotted the shadows in him earlier—”
“If I couldn’t see them, how on earth could you be expected to?”
“Because I’m older. I should have recognized the signs.” She took a deep breath and released it slowly. It was a soft sound of regret. “But perhaps it’s not too late. Perhaps he’s not too deep …”
Her words faded. She knew, like I knew, there was little hope of either being true—and yet there remained a part of me unwilling to give up on him.
Not until we’d confronted him. Not until we’d given him the chance to explain his actions. I owed him that, if nothing else.
I led the way down the stairs, then locked up once we were out on the street. Mia’s small white Fiesta pulled up a few minutes later; Mo climbed into the front seat while I claimed the back.
I took a deep breath and then sighed happily. “Is that freshly baked coffee scrolls I’m smelling?”
Mia chuckled. She was five foot ten, with blue-gray eyes, short brown hair, and a slender but wiry build. “It is indeed—the bakery next door just pulled them out of the oven as I was leaving. I couldn’t resist. Mo, do you want to do the honors?”
Mo immediately handed me one of the three brown bags and then tore open a second and placed it on Mia’s lap. “Head out of Ainslyn.”
“Which gate?”
“Fisher, and then turn left.”
Mia immediately sped off, zooming through the narrow streets and around the traffic with a skill that came from the countless advanced driving courses her parents had insisted on before she got her license.
Once we were out of the old town and heading toward the M6, she said, “So who are we looking for?”
Mo quickly updated her without mentioning we suspected the two children were Max’s. There were some things better kept to ourselves—at least until they were confirmed, at any rate.
“What’s the likelihood of us walking into a trap?” Mia asked.
“Fifty-fifty. It’s daylight, so demons won’t be a problem,” Mo said. “But we have no idea how large an army of halflings they have.”
“Quite a few, if they can afford to bomb a church load of them.”
“Ginny told you about that?” I said.
She glanced at me through the rearview mirror. “Yes, and I’m damn annoyed I missed out on the action. Please do the right thing in the future and call me.”
I snorted. “Be careful what you wish for, my friend.”
“It’s because I’m your friend that I’m insisting. This is a fight you two shouldn’t be tackling alone.”
Her words both warmed and frightened me. In all likelihood, I’d already lost my brother; I didn’t want to lose my best friends as well.
And yet, how safe were any of us if the dark gate was opened? It wouldn’t just be one or two lives lost, but thousands. Millions.
“Gwen always did have excellent taste in friends,” Mo said. “Shame it didn’t transfer to men—”
“Mo,” I warned, even though I was well aware she was simply changing the subject.
“—but I do believe change is on the horizon,” she continued, blithely ignoring me.
“Are we talking about a hot man in black leather?” Mia asked.
“We are,” Mo confirmed. “Although he sadly doesn’t wear his leathers anywhere near enough for my liking.”
“Really? You’re a zillion times older than him,” I said, caught between amusement and exasperation.
“Which doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy the view. I’m old, dear girl, not dead.”
I shook my head and tried to ignore the images of the hot man in question—the way his leathers hugged his butt, his thighs, his groin …
The barely repressed deep-down ache reignited, and I silently cursed. If I couldn’t break the damn man’s determination soon, I might have to take matters into my own hands—especially if we shared another kiss as mind-blowing as this morning’s effort.
Mia chuckled. “So where is the delicious man?”
“He ran away,” Mo said.
“What did you do to him, Gwen?”
I snorted and licked some icing from my fingertips. “I threatened his equilibrium.”
“What?”
“She kissed him,” Mo said blandly. “It was apparently so hot and passionate he had to run to Winchester to cool down.”
“Seriously?”
“No, of course not.” I screwed up my paper bag and tossed it at Mo’s head. “He’s gone there to uncover more information about the sword.”
“The one stuck in the stone?”
“Not anymore—the next Witch King has claimed it.”
Mia shot Mo an incredulous look. “When?”
“A couple of days ago. And no, we have no idea who that person is as yet.”
“There can’t be a huge number of suspects, surely, given heirs were being killed left, right, and center.”
“There isn’t.”
Mia raised an eyebrow, her expression amused. “I take it that means you won’t confirm until you’re sure.”
“Exactly.”
“She’s frustrating like that,” I commented.
Mia snorted again and swung onto the M6. We were an hour and a half into the drive when the golden sphere finally began to pulse.
“We’re closing in.” Mo straightened a little in her seat. “Turn right at the next roundabout and then left.”
“Crooklands?” Mia said. “What the hell is at Crooklands—aside from our runaways, that is.”
“Probably not a whole lot, and that may be the point,” Mo said.
“It’s generally easier to get lost in a big town than it is a country one,” I said. “Country folk tend not to miss a whole lot—especially when it comes to strangers in their midst.”
“Unless the town is used to strangers.” She pointed to a sign that said Lancaster Canal Leisure Park. “She’s in there.”
Mia drove through the gates and then slowed down. There was a currently closed reception area to our immediate left and, to our right, a rainbow-colored collection of wooden holiday lodges that followed the sweeping curve of the road. There were only three cars visible, so maybe the park di
dn’t have that many bookings thanks to the fact it was winter.
I undid my seat belt and leaned forward. “Which one is she in?”
“The last one on the left.”
Which was pastel yellow in color with a metal roof and no car out front. “It looks unoccupied.”
“Well, if I was on the run, I sure as hell wouldn’t be advertising my presence by sitting the car out the front of it,” Mia said. “Do we know what type of car she drives? It could be one of the visible three.”
“Or it’s simply out of sight,” I said. “I can’t imagine she’d want to be too far from quick means of escape if she was attacked.”
Mia nodded and glanced at Mo. “What do you want to do?”
“Investigate, of course.” She grimaced. “But I’m not liking the feel of this.”
“You think it’s a trap?”
“Maybe not one specifically aimed at us, but yes. Park here.”
Mia immediately halted in front of a lavender-colored cabin. I studied the others, but couldn’t sense anything untoward. There certainly weren’t any visible signs of magic or spells, but that was to be expected. It’d hardly be worthwhile setting a trap if you advertised its existence with visible threads.
“How are we going to do this?” I asked.
Mo pursed her lips. “I’ll take the front door, you take the rear—”
“Is there a rear door in these things?” I asked.
“It’s a safety requirement to have a fire exit,” Mo said. “Mia, you’re on watch. If you see anything odd or suspicious—and I mean anything—toot the horn.”
She nodded. “And if you get into trouble, I’ll come running.”
I frowned. “Mia—”
“Don’t ‘Mia’ me,” she bit back. “I’m fully capable of protecting myself—and not just with magic.”
“Meaning?”
Her grin flashed. “I’ve been doing bo staff training with Jonny.”
I blinked—more at the fact she’d been doing more with Jonny than simply fucking him. “What the hell is a bo staff?”
“Basically, it’s an Asian form of the quarter staff, which is more thrust focused. The bo is all about the swing.”
“It’s also a discussion that can be had later,” Mo said. “Gwen, let’s go.”