She's No Faerie Princess

by Christine Warren

  "You want them in order?" he snapped.

  Graham nodded sharply.

  "Fine. First, according to her, she's on vacation." The alpha snorted. Walker knew the feeling. "Second, she's wearing my clothes because she lost hers. And trust me, we're all better off if she remains clothed at all times."

  "I don't doubt that you're better off," Graham said, eyeing Walker's clenched hands and ticcing jaw. "But how does a grown woman—Fae or not—just lose her clothes?"

  "She did it to torture him," Jake murmured.

  "What was that?"

  "Nothing." Walker gave his nephew a warning glance. "She said they just disappeared. That it was some sort of spell."

  "Now that's the kind of magic I need to learn." Jake grinned, subsiding into the background when Walker glared again in his direction.

  "Okay. And when is she going home?" Graham demanded.

  "That's where we run into trouble."

  "What kind of trouble?"

  Walker hesitated a split second.

  "Ugh. What is it about this trip that's making me spend half of it on my back?"

  All three men turned at the sound of the grumpy female voice and found themselves being surveyed by her bright violet eyes.

  Walker's body offered an immediate response to her question that had him gritting his teeth and biting back a suggestion. One that had to do with making the time Fiona spent on her back infinitely more enjoyable. He doubted the alpha would have approved.

  The princess pushed herself into a sitting position and blinked at her surroundings. "And what is it with me waking up someplace different from where I was when the lights went out? It's worse than sleepwalking. I could get a complex." Shoving a tumble of dark hair away from her face, she smiled vaguely up at Graham. "Hi, I'm Fiona. Who are you?"

  The alpha blinked down at her and her extended hand for a moment, then shook it warily. "Graham Winters. How are you feeling?"

  Fiona shrugged. "Not bad, considering that in the last twelve hours or so I've been nearly eaten alive and then almost electrocuted with a really vicious warding spell. How are you?"

  Graham turned on Walker with a snarl. The beta raised his hands and shook his head. "Does she look like she's afraid of me, Graham? Gimme a break. I'm not the one who tried to snack on her. This is bigger than that."

  "Of course it is. Besides, if Walker was the one trying to kill me, I'm pretty certain he'd take care of it himself, not leave it to chance in the hands of an obviously incompetent demon or a far from lethal spell on a gate he didn't even know ahead of time I'd be using."

  Walker could see the changes of expression flit across the alpha's face as he waded through that reassurance and attempted to figure out what the hell she'd actually said. It didn't take a mind reader to guess when the words "demon" and "gate" finally sank in. Especially not when Graham punctuated each epiphany with a muttered curse. He turned to Walker and spoke through clenched teeth. "Tell me everything. Now. Start from the beginning. Of time, if necessary."

  The order didn't bother Walker. He heard it and got on with it. Unlike his predecessor as pack beta, who had moved to Connecticut in order to assume the role of alpha of his own pack, Walker had no desire to lead his clan. After seeing what the upheaval of the last year had put Graham through, he'd have to be crazy to aspire to that position. He had enough headaches of his own. As beta, he was answerable to no one except the alpha, and since the alpha was a first cousin he'd grown up with and whom he loved like a brother, that suited him just fine. He had most of the authority of a pack leader with very little of the responsibility. What could be better? At least, that's what he'd thought before today. Before a princess had dropped into his lap.

  He kept his summary of events clear and concise and slightly lacking in details. Especially the ones about Fiona's royal relatives. He figured the rest of the story would cause quite a sufficient amount of trouble without that tidbit of information coming out. He also sent up a prayer that the princess had sustained just enough of a head injury at the gate to keep her from interrupting until he finished.

  Graham listened to the whole story before directing his first question to Fiona. "Did you notice anything odd when you originally came through the gate?"

  "You mean other than the big, slavering demon?" She shrugged. "No, the gate worked the way it always does. It got me here in one piece. That's the only thing I've ever kept track of."

  "I have a hard time believing the demon was just a coincidence. There've only been three confirmed demon sightings in North America in the last century, and all of those were still under the control of their summoners. It strikes me as a little weird that the fourth happened with no sorcerer in sight right next to a gate to Faerie."

  "Could the demon have come in through the gate, too?" Walker speculated.

  "Not a chance," Fiona said. "If you think it's been a long time since you had to worry about demons around here, you got nothing on Faerie. Our borders have been sealed against them for almost three millennia. Since the end of the Wars."

  The Fae-Demon Wars had resulted in the banishment of demon kind from the human world and the now-inborn hostility the Fae and demons felt for each other. Demons made very poor losers, but they'd been confined to their own plane for aeons, just as Fiona had said. Because the human world had its share of summoners and sorcerers—interchangeable terms for magic users known to consort with demons—the creatures appeared there occasionally, but not often and never unattended. If that had changed, it meant trouble. Right here in River City.

  Jake piped up again. "Then how can we be sure the gate and the demon are related at all? They could be two totally separate issues. Stranger things have happened. Every Thursday and twice on Sundays."

  "At the moment, we can't afford to take chances," Walker said. "There's too much at stake in these negotiations. We have to be paranoid."

  "You're right about that," Graham said, his expression grim. "This is not the time to fool with the negotiations. For six months, we've been crawling along at a snail's pace, deciding nothing more consequential than whether or not someone from each side needed to taste the refreshments before every coffee break to be sure nothing had been tampered with. But now we're finally beginning to make headway. Last week, the human delegates from Europe proposed the first passage of a potential Bill of Others Rights. If even two-thirds of the other humans agree to it, we might finally have a starting point to work from. Before now, we couldn't even get most of them to agree who qualified as an Other, let alone that they should have legal protection."

  "And into it all walks a Fae who we can't send home because the gate she needs to go through has been cursed shut."

  "You're sure that's what it was?" Graham asked.

  Fiona shrugged. "I don't see what else it could have been, but it would have to be a pretty damned powerful curse. Letting things through is a gate's entire reason for being. It takes some serious mojo to interfere with something enough to keep it from fulfilling its most basic purpose. That's what we call bad magic."

  Walker and Graham both cursed. Lupine irritation in stereo.

  "So, to summarize," the alpha said grimly, "we have extremely delicate negotiations that mean life or death for the Others, a demon on the loose, with no idea who summoned it, a malfunctioning gate to Faerie, and someone with way too much power who seems to be taking a little side trip to Black Magicville. Fabulous. And to top it off, we also have an unauthorized Fae visitor and a queen who has made it perfectly clear that she blames us for all such occurrences, no matter how hard we try to keep the idiots out. No offense."

  Fiona rolled her eyes. "If I took offense every time a werewolf insulted me, I'd have suffered an aneurysm within five minutes of meeting Mr. Congeniality over here." She jerked a thumb at Walker. "No offense."

  Jake snickered, and Walker frowned at her. He thought he'd been behaving pretty well toward the princess over the last few hours, but apparently she wasn't about to forget the first few hours of their ac
quaintance.

  "But if I could offer a suggestion," she said, addressing Graham directly. "I might be able to lessen the horrible inconvenience of having me here."

  The alpha crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows. "By all means."

  "Well, since it looks like I'm not going to be going anywhere for the moment, I don't see any reason why you shouldn't put me to use." She slanted Walker a glance that had his eyes narrowing suspiciously. "At the moment, it appears you have a little demon problem on your hands, and since it's been so long since you've seen one, most of you humans are pretty in the dark about them. I don't claim to be an expert about them, or anything, but they're a big part of our legends, in a way I doubt they are in this world. I could share what I know about them, help you track this thing down. Maybe even help you send it on its way."

  "Aren't you the one who just pointed out that the Fae haven't dealt with demons in three thousand years?" Walker asked. "How does that make you an expert? There are plenty of sorcerers right here in Manhattan with a closer acquaintance to demons than that."

  "Three thousand years doesn't seem nearly as long when you're practically immortal. And besides, do you really want to rely on the help of someone who willingly and knowingly consorts with demons?"

  "The alpha will never allow it." Walker ignored the uneasy feeling the idea of her being immortal gave him, as well as the image of her smooth, young legs wrapped around his wrinkly, arthritic hips. "It's too dangerous. Or have you forgotten how you ended up the last time you tangled with this thing?"

  "Um, hi. Have we met? Because I thought I just heard you try to tell me what I can and can't do."

  Graham spoke over Jake's ill-disguised snicker. "Not to interrupt the hostilities or anything, but the girl has a point, Walker."

  "She what?" he asked, turning to face the alpha, his eyes wide with surprise. "But she could get hurt—" He cut himself off and cursed silently. "I mean, what would Queen Mab say if she got hurt?"

  "Quite likely the same thing she'll say just because she finds out one of her subjects came over here without permission. Whatever it is, we're going to get blamed for it." Graham sighed. "Look, whether we like it or not, she's Fae and she's here. She's also likely to have a better idea of how to go about tracking down a demon than any of us do." He looked back at Fiona. "Is it true that the Fae can follow a demon's trail?"

  "Depends on how you mean it. It's not like we're all some kind of bloodhound, but demons are magical, and magic has distinctive flavors. If a demon has spent any length of time in one place, or if it's done anything that required a significant amount of energy, it will leave a mark. I should be able to tell."

  "Even tell one demon from another?"

  She nodded. "Maybe. Probably, if they're not the same type of demon. Venom and horns, for instance, have very distinctive magical profiles."

  "I don't care if the ground they walked on fluorescent neon every time she sneezes on it," Walker pressed, trying to keep himself from just issuing the ultimatum he could feel building in his chest. The protectiveness he felt at the idea of the princess in danger was as uncomfortable as it was insane. "She can't go running around after a demon that almost killed her."

  "Actually, I think she has to."

  "Graham, come on. Be realistic."

  "Right after you, Tobias," Graham said, his voice dropping and his spine straightening. He didn't raise his voice, but Walker got the message loud and clear. The alpha was turning his opinion into an order, and as beta, Walker could either toe the line or have his ass handed to him on a platter. Torn and bloody.

  He bit nearly through his tongue to suppress the urge to snarl out a dominance challenge. He didn't really want to challenge his cousin, but something about the princess made Walker intolerant of the idea of anyone else claiming responsibility for her. Being beta generally suited Walker to a T. He liked being almost in charge without having to sit and listen to petty disputes between pack members or even significant disputes between Others and humans, but he didn't like the idea of Fiona putting herself in harm's way. Not even if his alpha ordered it to happen.

  For the first time in his life, Walker itched to take that last step up the ladder of Lupine authority. He still could have cared less about sealing property disputes between gammas, but he wanted to have absolute authority over Fiona. He wanted to be able to tell her to plant her butt somewhere safe where he could watch it 24-7.

  Hell, if he had his way, she'd be locked in a secure room covered by armed guards. Or maybe just tied to the nearest bed where he could keep an eye on her himself. And a mouth and two hands and the throbbing erection that had barely subsided since the first minute she'd catapulted into his life.

  "Someone dragged me away from the hot toddy my wife very kindly prepared for me, not to mention dragged me away from my wife," a voice drawled from the doorway to the office. "You have to understand that with the negotiations taking up so much of my time, this is not a disturbance I appreciate. So if I am here for no other reason than to witness one of your idiotic canine pissing contests, I am going to be left feeling rather testy."

  "I've got no idea who you are, so I can't help with why you're here, but I think the fact that you're going to see a pissing contest is pretty much a foregone conclusion." Fiona smiled at the newcomer and waved from her place on the sofa. "I'm Fiona, by the way. It's nice to meet you."

  Out of the corner of his eye, Walker saw the head of the Council of Others lounging in the doorway, looking customarily elegant and relaxed in black trousers and a gray V-necked sweater. It was a good thing Rafael De Santos was very happily married to a gorgeous, possessive, and terrifying human witch, because even knowing that didn't stop the reflexive surge of territoriality the handsome Felix inspired when he smiled at the Faerie princess.

  What the hell was wrong with him?

  "The pleasure is mine," Rafael said, turning his lazy white grin on Fiona. "I am Rafael De Santos, and I feel I should say right now that I have nothing in common with the savages before you."

  There were many, many things wrong with him, Walker realized. At the moment, chief among them was the fact that he couldn't seem to keep his hands from clenching into fists. Or keep himself from picturing those fists in the face of any man who smiled so charmingly at the princess Walker couldn't get out of his mind.

  "Don't mind them," Fiona said from behind him. "I don't know what's gotten into them, but I'm beginning to believe that this is normal for them."

  "You could very well be correct."

  "Nah," Jake said, "they've gotten a lot worse than this, but not usually with each other. Generally it's the two of them against someone else."

  "It'll be us against you if you don't keep your mouth shut, puppy," Walker warned.

  "I'm glad you're here, Rafe," Graham said. "It looks like we might have some trouble on our hands."

  A quick summary of events brought Rafael up to speed and had him frowning right alongside Walker and Graham.

  "I'm sure I don't need to tell you that the timing of this could have been better."

  "Oh, for goddess's sake," Fiona said, "you all are just going to have to get over it, okay? I'm sorry if my vacation ended up coinciding with some top-secret kaffeeklatsch of yours, but how was I supposed to know? It was a secret!"

  The men ignored her. "What do you have planned?" Rafael asked. "What is the next step?"

  "The problem is that we need to take two steps. We need to find the demon before a human does, and before it kills someone," Graham pointed out. "Unfortunately, we also need to find out what the hell is wrong with the Faerie gate so we can get Fiona back before the Fae come looking for her."

  "You people have quite a penchant for beating the dead horse, don't you?" Fiona muttered in the background.

  "They have a plan for the demon. Fiona is going to find it," Jake offered, cheerfully enough to earn a killing glare from his uncle. At that point, Walker couldn't decide who needed to meet his fists the most. The choices seemed infi
nite.

  "Ah, yes. That makes sense." Rafael nodded. "And if I might suggest, my wife might prove helpful with the gate problem. Tess has quite a talent for the magical milieu."

  "Whatever it takes. Getting the princess home is the priority."

  Rafael turned to Walker and quirked an eyebrow. "Princess?"

  "Tobias has a fixation with my family tree. He's all bent out of shape thinking my aunt is going to kick his furry little tail, or something."

  Walker swore under his breath while Jake turned an interesting shade of green. Rafael just quirked the other brow until they nearly met his dark hairline. "Does that mean your aunt is someone like Queen Mab?"

  "As like as can be. Identical, as a matter of fact."

  "Shit!" Graham roared. "I thought 'princess' was some kind of term of frickin' endearment, you son of a bitch! Are you telling me that you've trapped the niece of the Queen of Faerie in pack lands with no way to get her home? Are you insane?"

  Walker squared off against Graham and roared right back, almost grateful for the opportunity to vent some of the frustration that had been building inside him. "Oh, right. Like I planned for this. Do I look like a goddamn martyr to you? I'd rather have my claws pulled out with a rusty tweezers than be in this situation, you idiot!"

  "What did you call me, Beta?"

  "Gentlemen," Rafael interrupted, stepping fully into the room and putting himself not between the two Lupines but close enough to take action if they went for each other's throats. "Let's please keep our focus on the issue at hand."

  Fiona pursed her lips. "By that, I take it you're referring to me."

  The Felix flashed her a charming grin, which managed to drag Walker's attention away from Graham and into a snarl. "You do seem to have made quite an impression on my friends, Your Highness."

  "Would you please not call me that?" she grumbled. "Like I've been trying to tell Mr. Thick-as-Concrete, I'm not wild about the title."