Cruel Enchantment

by Bast, Anya

  Gideon looked up at her, his hands splayed on the objects of her pack spread out on the grass. His face was made of malevolence. “You heard me.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Of course my grandmother’s name is Martha.” She gave a laugh. “I would know the name of my own—”

  He leapt up, grabbed her wrists, and gave her a sharp tug forward into his body. His face was an inch from hers. “Stop lying.”

  Just then Brother Maddoc came striding down the path, gravel crunching under his boots. At the sound of his approach, Gideon immediately released her and took a step back. “Brother Gideon, what are you doing?”

  “He’s checking my bag for any contraband I might be carrying into Piefferburg,” Emmaline answered for him.

  “You’re what?” Maddoc turned an interesting shade of purple. Oh, this was going to be fun.

  Gideon stood with the empty bag in his hand. “Given recent events, I thought it best. We can’t be too careful.”

  Brother Maddoc went from purple to scarlet. “Labrai damn you and your half-baked conspiracy theories, Brother Gideon! You put her bag back together and apologize to her. If we can’t trust someone like Emily, who can we trust?”

  A regular person would not have noticed the white-knuckled grip on her backpack, the tense set of Gideon’s shoulders, the subtle clench of his jaw, or the twitch in his left eye. They would only see the smooth, sheepish smile Gideon gave his superior along with the easy answer, “Of course, Brother Maddoc, I meant no offense to Emily. I am simply, as always, looking out for the best interests of the human race.”

  “Put. Her. Bag. Back. Together.” Brother Maddoc turned toward her and began apologizing.

  Her eyes still on Gideon, she glimpsed a moment of perfect, bone-chilling violent intention enter the Phaendir’s eyes as he stared at Maddoc, tingeing his expression dark before he knelt and put all her things back into her pack.

  Gideon rose and handed it to her. “Be well, Emily, and I wish you much luck uncovering more information. You’ve done a brilliant job so far.”

  “Thank you, Brother Gideon,” she replied frostily. Then she leaned forward and pecked Brother Maddoc on the cheek. “You take care of yourself.”

  It was all calculated, of course, to drive Gideon insane. Plus, she was pretty sure this would be the last time she ever saw Maddoc alive.

  There were dark and rocky times ahead for the fae.

  She turned and walked toward the gates, allowing herself one small smile of victory. The second piece of the bosca fadbh would soon be in the hands of the fae.

  In a few moments they would be one step closer to freedom. By the look in Gideon’s eyes, it appeared it was coming none too soon.

  GIDEON stood staring at the closing doors of the gates of Piefferburg with rage churning in his gut. Brother Maddoc had turned and walked away without another word as soon as Emily had said good-bye. Disrespectful. But that was all right: Maddoc wouldn’t matter soon.

  All his instincts were screaming at him that something was not right. He’d been trying to stall her for as long as he could to find out if his intuition was correct.

  His cell phone rang. He gritted his teeth. The gates had just locked. If Brother Maddoc hadn’t interfered . . .

  Flipping his phone open, he growled, “Yes?”

  He listened for several moments, then closed the phone and clenched it in his hand so hard he heard the plastic casing crack. The doors were closed now. She was gone.

  And she was fae.

  A primal scream of rage and frustration tore at his throat, wanting to free itself. He tamped it down with effort—muscles straining, face reddening, veins popping, tendons in his neck tight.

  A fucking fae. Undercover in the Phaendir for the last five years. Her real name was Emmaline. The manure farm was literally and figuratively a bunch of shit. She’d probably gone into Piefferburg for her own reasons, reasons that were very likely connected to the bosca fadbh.

  And there was a chance he’d just sent her into Piefferburg with another piece of it.

  If he had been in charge of the Phaendir this never would have happened. His plans to unseat Maddoc were now more urgent than ever. Whatever it took, Maddoc had to go and Gideon knew he needed to take his place. The fate of the world depended on it. Labrai willed it.

  He wanted the bitch dead. He’d coveted that trash, that fae. Had chased her filthy skirt for the last two years. She’d been laughing at him the whole time. He felt dirty. He needed a hard scrub in a hot shower and then needed to whip his back into a bloody, meaty mess to make up for this colossal mistake. He needed to punish her. He needed—

  And an idea burst into his head.

  He was not without resources inside Piefferburg. Resources, of course, that Brother Maddoc didn’t know about.

  Brother Maddoc.

  Telling him about this would almost make up for the rest. Maddoc had fucked up worse than any of them. That worked just fine for Gideon, considering the trap he had waiting for him. This moved his timetable up, in fact; he’d spring his trap earlier than he’d been intending because of it.

  The fae could fucking have their two pieces of the bosca fadbh. He’d be in charge soon, so they’d never have a chance to obtain the third, not to mention use them.

  Maybe all was not lost. Because of Emmaline he was closer than ever to the top of the Phaendir food chain; and Emmaline, well, that fae bitch was about to taste his vengeance.

  A smile curling over his face for the fate he was about to settle on Emmaline’s shoulders, he flipped his phone back open and dialed a number.

  Little Red Riding Hood was about to meet the Big Bad Wolf.

  TWENTY-THREE

  THE doors shut behind her with a loud thump. This time the red cap gate attendants merely waved her through. She turned and looked at the gates, content to have them locked behind her. It was a marked difference from the first time she’d gone through them. The first time she’d had a moment of panicked claustrophobia followed by the sensation of being trapped.

  Now all she wanted was to get back to Aeric.

  God, she was so thankful that Maddoc had shown up. Danu had been with her on that one. If Maddoc hadn’t shown when he did, she wasn’t sure she’d be in Piefferburg right now. A light sensation in her chest had her closing her eyes and inhaling the fresh air.

  Ah, she was home.

  Blowing a strand of hair away from her face and shouldering her backpack more securely, she started off on the road that would bring her to Piefferburg City.

  A little way down the road, she dropped her glamour. It felt good to do it, which was also a large change from last time. This time she wouldn’t be meeting Aeric in the woods. He didn’t know she’d returned. The magickal alarm system that had alerted him the first time had been deactivated when she’d broken it.

  The upside was that so had the queen’s. The Seelie Court Royal wouldn’t have a clue that she was walking through the woods on her own right now, thank Danu. Unless, of course, she’d had another one put in place.

  Her blood went cold.

  She’d made it about halfway to Piefferburg City when she began to sense she was being watched. The hair at the nape of her neck rose and the pressure of a gaze seemed to follow at her back. She stopped on the road and peered all around her, feeling foolish, but considering her track record with being attacked within the borders of Piefferburg City, maybe she wasn’t being so paranoid, after all.

  Suddenly the weight of the crossbow on her back began to feel very reassuring.

  Only green foliage and the gently curling tendrils of flowering plants met her gaze. All she could hear was the low twittering of birds in the trees and the rustle of leaves in the breeze. Maybe it was just nerves making her feel like she was being watched.

  The wind was picking up and dark clouds were rolling in. She lifted her face to the sky and let the incoming storm buffet her hair around her face. Closing her eyes for a moment, she soaked in the sensation,
in this place that was so saturated with magick. The magick of her people, the same that flowed in her veins. It felt so good.

  Opening her eyes, she turned and walked on, faster now since the storm was approaching quickly. The sense she’d had of being watched could have been anything. In a world of fae magick even the trees had eyes sometimes.

  Fat drops of rain began to come down, plopping onto her cheeks like tears and falling on her backpack. Soon the wind picked up, ripping at her clothes and whipping her rain-wet hair around her face. A peal of thunder sounded in the distance . . . and a dark figure stepped out from the woods ahead of her.

  She stopped, staring at the person. Aeric? No, not Aeric. This man was smaller than he was, the shoulders narrower.

  Unslinging her bow from her shoulder, she pulled a bolt from her quiver and nocked it into the bow’s runner. Planting her feet slightly apart on the road, she ignored the rising storm and sighted at the figure.

  The man hadn’t moved and the rain was coming down hard now. The way he didn’t move, just stood there staring at her, was unnerving. “Hey, whoever you are,” she yelled. “Come closer so I can see you. Watch yourself while you do it. I’m capable with this weapon.”

  She blinked and he was gone. Damn it. This was getting more threatening by the moment. Turning in a wary circle, she sighted down her bow, trying to find him. Shooting a wet crossbow, even a magicked one, was not a fun thing. Her heart was thumping now. The rain obscured her vision. She could barely see the edge of the foliage.

  Hands grabbed her roughly from behind. How the hell had he gotten behind her so quickly? With a strength she wouldn’t have expected from a man with such a slender build, he ripped the bow from her fingers and flung it far away, onto the muddy road.

  She brought her knee up fast and hard, catching the man in the gut. He grunted and fell back. Ah, flesh and bone, then. Something she could fight. Thank Danu.

  Taking advantage of his pain, she lunged for her bow, but he was on her as soon as her fingers closed around the wood, knocking her to the ground.

  She slammed her elbow back into his face. He grunted again, a low inhuman sound, but didn’t let go of her. He rolled her to her back, pinning her body beneath his, and the hood of his jacket fell back, revealing his devastatingly handsome face in the half-light.

  The Will o’ the Wisp. Otherwise known as Will the Smith, a man so evil it was said that when he died, the Powers That Be expelled him from the Netherworld, giving him a second life.

  Handsome and charismatic, he could win the trust of almost anyone, but this man was like all the worst serial killers of the human world rolled into one and with magick added in.

  This was not good.

  “I’ve been sent for you,” he said in a low, smooth voice. He still had a heavy English accent. She wondered how many unsuspecting women he’d managed to lure in and slaughter during his lifetime.

  “Who?” she breathed.

  He smiled, revealing perfect, straight teeth. “Gideon.”

  Terror jolted through her.

  That meant Gideon knew the truth. She wondered if this meant Gideon knew she had the piece.

  “He sent me to get the piece he thinks you’re carrying.”

  Well, that answered her question.

  “Where is it?” Will asked.

  “Like I’m going to tell you, freak.”

  “Oh. You’re going to fight me.” He gave her a greasy smile. “Goody. This will be fun.”

  Yeah, fun for him. Her, not so much. Out of the corner of her eye, she spied her quiver, full of nice, sharp quarrels. Unfortunately, it was just out of reach.

  His face hovering just above hers, she began to scream. Long, loud, piercing screams that echoed through the woods. Emmaline had learned over the years that it was better to seem weaker than you were in a fight. Scared. Vulnerable. It gave her an edge.

  Will smiled and a trail of spittle trailed out of the corner of his mouth and down his chin. He threw back his head and laughed, a raw guttural sound that chilled her blood between her girly screams of terror.

  Oh, that was not attractive at all.

  He punched her and pain exploded in a shower of stars behind her eyes. It hurt, no doubt about that, but Lars had done far worse to her. She kept screaming.

  The screaming made him think she was terrified out of her mind and paralyzed with panic, not looking for an opportunity to free her hand and hit him in the flat of his nose��� hard. He yelped and blood poured from his nostrils. He rolled to the ground, his hand to his face.

  She took her chance. Lunging for the quiver, she snatched a quarrel and gripped it with the tip cupped in her palm and the shaft held tight along the inside of her arm.

  Will grabbed her ankle and yanked her toward him. She slid on her stomach in the mud, her wet hair tangled over her face and rain streaming down into her eyes. Twisting to meet him head-on as he pulled her under his body, she brought her arm up and rammed the quarrel toward him with all her strength. At the last moment, he saw it and flinched away.

  She missed the target of his throat, but managed to embed it deeply in his shoulder. Sharpened to a deadly point, it slid in like a knife into a thick, raw steak. Hot blood welled and coated her hand, mixing with the rain.

  Will screamed and grabbed at the shaft of the quarrel, staring down at her with crazy, bulging eyes. He was no longer handsome and didn’t even approach the realm of charming. Now he looked like the insane man he was.

  And, boy, now he was really pissed.

  She scrambled backward on her hands and feet, scrabbling in the mud for her quiver and crossbow. Clutching one in each hand, she rose and ran stumbling into the woods while Will screamed behind her, trying to break the shaft of the quarrel stuck so deeply in his shoulder.

  Plunging through the tree line, she crashed through foliage and jumped over fallen logs as quickly as she could in the storm- and rain-darkened woods.

  Behind her, roaring with perfect rage, Will followed. And, Danu, he was fast. Right now he was the hunter and she was the deer. She needed to change that around. Now.

  Darting to the left, through a particularly thick area of the woods, she found a good tree with thick branches within arm’s reach. Slinging the crossbow and the quiver onto her back, she swung herself up then hoisted herself upward on the rough, wet limbs, into the dripping leaves to conceal herself.

  Will approached fast. Wrapping her arms and legs around a heavy limb, she went as still and as silent as she could. The sound of the rain masked her labored breathing. Directly below her, he crashed through the foliage and went past. His face and shoulder both were covered with blood and he was making low grunting noises of pain and rage.

  After he passed, she dropped down silently to the forest floor. Nocking a quarrel into her crossbow, she sighted along it as she followed behind him. Her fingers slipped on the weapon and she cursed inwardly. Rain was the worst enemy of an archer. It obscured the line of sight and made the string slippery.

  She walked quietly, the steady sound of the rain masking the noise made by her passing. Still grunting, Will was doing nothing to conceal his location, yet she still couldn’t see where he was—she could only hear him. Balancing the crossbow on her shoulder, she used her free hand to push aside the branches in her way.

  The forest had suddenly gone quiet. Disturbingly so. Even Will’s grunting had ceased.

  The rain slowed and then stopped. Still she saw no sign of Will in front of her.

  Something dark moved in the corner of her eye. She turned, finger ready to loose the quarrel, but there was nothing but trees. Her heart pounding, she backed up flush with a trunk and made a slow sweep of the area, looking for any sign that she was now the stalkee instead of the stalker.

  Another slow sweep, emotion choked up tight in her throat.

  There.

  He stood behind a tree, only the bloody half of his body showing. Her stomach went leaden. He stared at her with total malice, his head tipped down and
his pupils rolled to the top of his eye sockets. The broken shaft was still embedded in his shoulder.

  He appeared absolutely insane. Every violent thing he wanted to do to her seemed to be broadcast in that horrific gaze.

  Never mind. It didn’t matter. No way was she going to let him intimidate her. This man was going down.

  She sighted, cursing the rain, and loosed, aiming for his head. The quarrel stuck in the tree trunk level with his eye. He’d ducked behind the tree the moment she’d fired.

  Silence.

  Her breathing was coming in shallow pants. She swallowed, trying to get a grip. He’d disappeared again, probably standing behind the tree. That had to be it. To her knowledge, the Will o’ the Wisp didn’t have the magick to allow him to teleport.

  For as scary as he was, he was still a man. He could be killed. She had to remember that.

  She nocked another quarrel. Moving slowly and blinking so she could keep the tree in her view, she inched closer and closer.

  A wet branch cracked beneath her shoe and she cursed inwardly. She’d given away her position.

  Will leapt. Yelling out for her death in a guttural voice, he rushed her.

  Sighting on his chest, she loosed. The quarrel arched through the air and Will tried to dodge it. No luck this time. With a wet crunch, it hit his chest and broke bones.

  Eyes wide, he stumbled and went down into the wet leaves. Blood poured from his mouth. He rolled on his side, gurgling and pulling at the shaft with weak, blood-wet fingers.

  Heart pounding and breath coming fast, she lowered the crossbow to her side and walked over to him. ���So, you were sent to kill me.” She looked down at him as he lay bleeding in the leaves. “Didn’t Gideon tell you it wouldn’t be that easy?”

  His eyes widened a little, he gurgled, and then he died.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  AERIC felt her a moment before she walked in the door, as if they’d forged some kind of psychic link. “I have it,” she said as soon as she’d cleared the threshold. Angry bruises marked her face and she was streaked with grime and blood. Her hair and clothes were damp and her boots were covered in mud. “I’ve got the piece in my backpack. We need to take it to Queen Aislinn.”