by Keri Arthur
Gianna stood next to the open passenger door, the old teddy gripped firmly in one hand as she looked around a little owlishly. “Where are we?”
“Outside Penrith. Can you see the blue truck behind us?”
She glanced that way. “Its windshield is broken.”
“Yes. Get into the passenger seat.”
“I can’t leave Reign—”
“I’m bringing him. Go.”
She walked away unsteadily. I grabbed my backpack and her shoulder bag, then sucked in a deep breath that did little to ease the growing tide of aches and weariness. After wrapping my arms around the car seat, I hauled it free of the car and lugged it over to the truck. The world was spinning by the time I reached it, the pain in my head so bad my sight was blurring. Given everything also had a reddish tinge, I suspected my eyes were bleeding. No surprise, given just how much I’d called on the inner power over the last twenty-four hours.
With a grunt of effort, I placed the car seat into the back of the truck and attached the two still viable points before hauling the regular belt over the top to make doubly sure it was secure. I dumped my pack in the footwell, then tipped the contents of her purse onto the back seat. A quick ferret through didn’t reveal anything unexpected, but I nevertheless checked the purse’s side pockets. The tracker was in one of them. I tossed it onto the ground, crushed it underneath my heel, then scooped everything back into the purse and dumped it beside the pack.
Once I’d brushed away the ashes of the previous occupant, I climbed into the driver seat. Gianna was blinking owlishly, and her skin was pale. Concussion, I suspected.
“Gianna? You need to belt up.”
As she mechanically obeyed, I checked the mirrors and then pulled out. We’d barely passed the overhead sign when a car came around the corner. I kept an eye on it, but it neither sped up when it saw us nor slowed down when it saw the remains of the Estate.
I released the breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding, and my inner strength washed away as quickly as a tide. I swallowed heavily, tightened my grip on the wheel, and did my best to concentrate. We had to get out of here; had to get somewhere safe. Nothing else mattered right now.
By the time we were close to the center of Penrith, I was barely holding it together. I spotted a big golden M through the elms lining the right side of the road and swung into the parking area. It was reasonably full, which meant the only spots available were the ones at the back of the parking area—perfect for us. I reversed into a spot and then switched off the engine and leaned my forehead against the steering wheel, sucking in great gulps of air. The inner shaking had expanded to the rest of me, and my stomach felt like it was about to unleash.
“Where are we?” came Gianna’s soft question.
I glanced at her. She’d been floating in and out of consciousness for the last fifteen minutes, but for the moment looked lucid. “Penrith. I think you’ve got a concussion—do you want some Panadol?”
She nodded and rubbed her forehead. Flakes of dried blood fell away, which at least meant the wound on her head had stopped bleeding and couldn’t have been too serious.
I twisted around, grabbed my backpack, and retrieved the bottle of painkillers. After handing her two, I popped a couple out for myself. There was no way they’d be strong enough to calm the mad orchestra inside my head, but maybe they’d take the edge off.
She frowned at me. “Why are your eyes red?”
“It’s a consequence of using my powers.” I grabbed my phone, then dumped the pack behind the seat again. “You must have some backlash after using all that fire.”
She nodded. “It drains me. I usually sleep for at least a day afterward.”
Meaning maybe she wasn’t concussed; maybe she was simply zoning out after draining her system of energy.
I hit Mo’s number; the phone barely had time to ring before she was saying, “We’re about five minutes away from your current location, if this tracker is to be believed. What the hell happened back there?”
“Another attack—we’re now in our assailant’s truck.”
“Were they halflings or witches?”
“I didn’t really take the time to ask.” I hesitated. “They were armed, though, so they might have been regular thugs for hire.”
“Possibly. You keep smoking their troops, and they surely can’t have an endless supply of them, even if they have been planning this for decades.”
“If they’ve been planning this for decades, I wouldn’t bet on that.” I glanced toward the road as a small white Fiesta came around the corner and slowed down. “We’re in the parking area, right at the back.”
The car turned in, and a few seconds later, they’d parked beside us. Mo climbed out and opened the truck door.
“Well, don’t you look like shit?” She leaned past me and added, “And I’m guessing you’ll be Gianna. Wish we could have met under more pleasant circumstances.”
Gianna nodded, but her expression was uncertain. “Are you sure we’re going to be safe? They’ve found us pretty easily twice now.”
“There are magical means of preventing tracking spells and physical means of preventing the use of regular tracking devices, but I can’t one hundred percent guarantee it won’t happen,” Mo said. “What I can guarantee is that the best shot you and your children have of remaining free of Darkside control will be with us.”
Gianna was silent for a moment, her gaze sweeping the two of us. Her uncertainty remained, and the annoyance that had been buried under the avalanche of adrenaline and fear flickered to life. I’d almost died protecting her and her goddamn son … my nephew. I drew in a slow, deep breath and tried to calm down. Her reactions were perfectly natural, especially given how closely related we were to the apparent leader of this whole fucking mess. Heaven only knew what Max had told her about us.
“Fine,” she said eventually. “Where are we going?”
“It’s better if that remains a secret.” Mo glanced into the rear. “Damn, that boy looks like his father—but what the hell did you give him to make him sleep so soundly through all this?”
“A third of one of my Ambien tablets.”
Mo sharp inhale was a sound of disapproval. But then, she’d always preferred herbal medicines to manmade, especially when it came to children.
“Let’s get you both out of here—I’ll check him and take a look at that cut on your head once we’re safe.”
Gianna frowned. “He’s okay—”
“And you’ve both been in a crash that totaled your car. Humor an old healer and let me check you both out.” She waited until Gianna had climbed out of the car and then said, her expression concerned, “How bad are the gun wounds and the weariness?”
“I’ll survive.”
She snorted. “To throw your own words back at you, you’d say that even if you’d broken every bone in your goddamn body. Give me your hands.”
I obeyed. Her magic stirred around me, a warm caress of power that chased away the chills and weakness even as it closed over the worst of my wounds. I still felt washed out, and my head still pounded, but that was to be expected given she could hardly waste all her strength on me when she had Gianna and Reign to protect.
She released me with a sigh. “That’ll have to do for now.”
“Thanks.” I leaned forward and lightly kissed her scraped cheek. “What are you going to do once you settle Gianna and Reign?”
“Head on over to Barney’s—”
“Will that be safe?” I cut in. “They’ve already attacked him once.”
“I don’t believe they’ll attack again—they were after the photographs rather than us.”
I frowned. “And how did you deduce that? They certainly weren’t pulling their punches when it came to shooting at us—”
“Except that they were—do you really think the chair would have protected either of us if they’d actually wanted us dead?”
“It was well made.”
She snorted. “Not
that well made. The photographs were snatched while we were chasing the Aranea and the two men were on the roof.”
Meaning the attack had simply been a distraction. “Why would they bother, though?”
She shrugged. “Maybe your brother and his Darkside mates decided they’d better uncover what the prophecy on the throne actually said.”
“But they tried to destroy it—”
“No doubt to stop us getting to it. And that’s the reason Barney and I are going over to King’s Island this evening. I want to grab some pictures of the King’s Stone’s faded glyphs, just in case they attempt to repeat the destruction there.”
“I guess if anyone can bring out what’s written on that stone, it’ll be his nephew. Just … be careful. I really want to believe Max wouldn’t hurt either of us, but he may not be running the entire show.”
Mo smiled and squeezed my hand. I knew her well enough to know she didn’t believe Max was anything else but the ringleader. Pain stabbed through my heart once again, and I battled back the stinging tears.
“I doubt it’s going to be safe for you to return home alone,” she said. “I contacted Luc, and he’s given me the address of a temporary safe house. He’ll meet you there.”
She handed me a bit of paper, and I glanced down at it. It was for an address in Southport. “It’ll take me at least five hours to get to there from here, and I don’t want to be driving around that long, especially in this truck.”
“Dump it somewhere close and grab a cab, then. I’ll see you tomorrow sometime. Make sure you rest up.”
“I will.”
Mo and Gianna hauled the car seat and the still sleeping child over to the Fiesta. Mia gave me a wave and a thumbs-up as they left, and I suddenly felt very alone. And very exposed.
I glanced at the address again, then programmed it into my phone rather than the truck’s navigation system. Given I intended to dump the truck, it’d be nothing short of stupidity to give them an easy means of finding us.
I tugged my purse out of the backpack, then went through the drive-through and grabbed a large fries, chicken strips, and a bucket of coffee. Munching on them as I headed back out of Penrith at least kept the weariness at bay, perhaps more so than the coffee.
I dumped the truck close to the Harris Museum in Preston and then caught a cab the rest of the way to Southport. It was expensive, but I was beyond caring. Dusk had given way to night by the time I arrived at the safe house Luc had arranged for us. I paid the cab and climbed out, staring at the building in awe. It was a large and impressive Tudor mansion, though it wasn’t, I realized after a few minutes, a particularly old building—the roof tiles were too new and the black-and-white framing too crisp and clean. It didn’t matter—it was simply stunning.
The main door opened, and a sharply dressed elderly gentleman with neat white hair and merry blue eyes came out.
“Ms. De Montfort?” he asked, in an ultra-polite, but friendly manner. When I nodded, he added, “We’ve been expecting you. This way please.”
He waved a gloved hand toward the door, and I half smiled. We De Montforts certainly weren’t poor, but neither were we so crazily rich that we could afford to build a mock Tudor mansion in an area like this, so close to both the sea and the golf course, and then have a multitude of staff catering to every whim.
The entrance hall was a vast space whose main feature was a turned oak staircase leading up to a galleried landing. The floor and deep skirting boards were also oak, and a huge gold-and-crystal chandelier hung from the double-height ceiling, sending rainbow sprays of color across the white walls every time light hit the teardrops.
“Would you like a shower, Ms. De Montfort?” the elderly gentleman continued. “Or would you prefer something to eat first?”
“A shower would be fantastic. And please, just call me Gwen.”
He inclined his head. “I’m Henry, the majordomo. This way, please.”
We walked up the sweeping staircase to the landing and then down a wide and very plushly carpeted hall to a bedroom bigger than the entire first floor of our building.
“The bathroom is to your right,” Henry said. “You’ll find all necessary items in the nearby shelving. If you wish your clothes laundered and mended, please place them on the bed. Just press the buzzer beside the light switch in the bathroom, and Jenny—the maid—will fetch them.”
“Thank you, Henry.”
He nodded and left, quietly closing the door behind him. I drew in a deep breath and resisted the urge to flop down onto the ginormous bed and sleep for the next twenty hours. The bedding was pristine white, and I was a blood-soaked, sweaty, grimy mess. The two were not compatible.
I stripped off then folded my clothes and placed them neatly on the top of the blanket box at the end of the bed. The three daggers I shoved under the pile of pillows, out of immediate sight but close to hand when I was sleeping.
The bathroom was another revelation. Like everything else in this place, it was vast and opulent; the white marble was veined with gold, and the two basins and all the taps were gold. The shower was big enough to have a party in, with three ceiling-mounted showerheads and two flexible wall ones.
I pressed the buzzer to call Jenny, then collected shampoo, body soap and sponge, and a tent-like towel from the inset storage area. After turning on the middle shower and two side ones, I stepped under the hot, hot water and simply stood there, soaking away the grime, the blood, and the aches, for so long that my skin began to prune.
Once I was dry and my hair combed into some sort of order, I padded back into the bedroom, my feet sinking deep in the thick carpet. A dressing gown had been placed on the chest where my clothes had been, but I didn’t bother grabbing it. I pressed the button to close the curtains and then climbed in under the blankets and went to sleep.
I woke who knows how many hours later to the awareness I was no longer alone. I slid a hand under the pillow to grip Nex’s hilt, then the warm mix of musk, sandalwood, and cinnamon teased my nostrils. I smiled even as my heart began to dance and a deep-down ache stirred to life.
The damn man was going to be the death of me—if one could die of sheer frustration, that is.
I released my grip on Nex and opened my eyes. Luc wasn’t lying on the other side of the ginormous bed, as I’d half hoped, but had instead dragged up one of the well-padded armchairs and was asleep in that, his sock-covered feet resting on the end of the bed. He looked at peace. At home. Gorgeous. My fingers itched with the need to reach out and caress the muscular splendor barely hidden by the almost too tight shirt; I longed to kiss my way down his chest and stomach, to explore what lay beyond the waist of his jeans …
I drew a deep, shuddery breath, and his eyes opened. The green depths sparkled with amusement, as if he knew exactly where my thoughts had been and what that intake of breath had meant.
“How are you feeling?” His voice was a deep, sexy rumble that created havoc with my already erratic pulse.
“I’m good. Hungry, but good.”
Desire flared in his eyes, along with amusement. The damn man knew I wasn’t talking about food. “When did you get in?”
“About six hours ago.”
“So why are you sleeping here in a chair rather than in your own bedroom? I’m sure a mansion this size has plenty of them.”
“It does, but from the little Mo said about the reasons this retreat was needed, I figured I’d better not leave you alone.”
“Nex and Vita are under—”
“And you’ve used them enough that the whites of your eyes are still pink, despite being asleep for over twelve hours.”
“Twelve hours? No wonder I’m damn hungry.”
A sexy smile teased his lips. “I think that is a constant state with you. Some of us do have—”
“If you say more control, I’m going to throw a mountain of pillows at you.”
The smile grew wider and he raised his hands. “A stomach that doesn’t need to be fed every couple of hours
.”
We both knew that wasn’t what he’d intended to say, and maybe it was time to prove a point. I stretched like a cat, and the blankets fell away, revealing the upper portion of my body.
His gaze swept me, a heated caress followed by a wave of desire so fierce it made my nipples pucker and my breath catch in my throat. I briefly closed my eyes, drawing in the warm sensation, savoring its strength and power. But I didn’t react in any other way, and I certainly didn’t cover up.
“How did your search in Winchester go?” I said after a moment.
“Hit and miss.” His voice held a throaty edge that warmed me deep inside. “There was a brief mention of a ceremonial sword in one journal but no mention whether it was part of the prophecy or indeed held power of its own. The archivist is currently searching through our other archives to see if he can find anything else.”
“I take it he’ll call you if he finds it?”
He nodded. His gaze slid from my face to my breasts, and the desire in his eyes left me breathless and buzzing. “I don’t suppose you’d consider covering up?”
“Nope.”
“I didn’t think so.” He sighed. “You’re going to be the death of me, you know that, don’t you?”
I raised an eyebrow. “Really? Why’s that?”
“Don’t play innocent. It doesn’t suit you at all.”
I grinned. “Maybe not, but hey, you’re the one with all the rules and an unwillingness to risk that heart of yours.”
“I know.” He sighed again. It was a deep sound of frustration. “What if we come to a compromise? Will you stop flaunting your glorious body at every opportunity?”
I chuckled. Even I had to admit it was a decidedly evil sound. “It totally depends on the compromise.”
“We concentrate on finding the sword and stopping Darkside. No more teasing. No more kisses—”
“You kissed me, I seem to recall.”
“Yes, and will you just let me finish?”
I waved him on with a grand flourish.
“If we both survive the battles that are undoubtedly coming, then you and I start dating—and hopefully having mad passionate sex several times a day, at least—and we’ll see if this thing between us leads to something more serious.”