“They’ll kill you.”
He flashed her a predatory smile. “Do you really think so? Move, or you’ll end up as dead as your father.”
A knot formed in her chest. Stunned, she stepped aside, the fight sucked out of her by those horrible words. But around her the chaos still swirled.
“Corner him,” the voices shouted. “Hold him there. Watch that sticker of his.”
“Hold!” a new voice shouted. The man at the corner table stood up, his round face grim.
Blood and smoke disappeared back into memory, her father’s staring eyes vanished beneath Conor’s furious glare. She held out a hand to stall the three others. “He’s fevered, and no harm to you. He doesn’t know what he’s doing.”
Conor’s animal-stare moved slowly over them. She felt like a rabbit caught in the mesmerizing gaze of the wolf.
“Enough. All of you,” the man in the corner said, and Ellery sensed the balance of power in the room shift in her favor.
Even Conor hesitated under the command. Although that might have been weakness. Already, the beast was fading back into the man. He wavered on his feet, and Ellery rushed to catch him. She braced herself against the stair railing, trying not to think of the transformation she’d just witnessed. What else about him didn’t she know?
“Bugger off, Evan,” the innkeeper said.
“I won’t have you stirring up trouble,” the man answered.
“Me?” Mr. Kay sounded aggrieved. “You saw what he done. Tried to murder us.”
“He’s sick,” Ellery interrupted.
All eyes flicked to her, making her suddenly aware of the state of her dress. The open coat showed off her bare legs. Conor’s jacket hung askew off one shoulder. With as much grace as she could muster, she pulled the jacket up and swung the coat closed around her legs.
Evan stepped forward, placing himself between Conor and the men. “He calls on the animal spirit to fight through him. That’s powerful magic.”
“He didn’t mean to,” Ellery said. “He suffers from mage sickness. He can barely stand, let alone fight. And he thought Mr. Kay had taken the ring. It was my fault. All of it.”
“Your fault? How so?”
“I was trying to get him a doctor, but we haven’t any money.”
Evan studied Conor’s slack features, his shaking limbs. Now that the fever madness had passed, he trembled as if palsied, even his voice gone.
“If it’s truly mage sickness, no doctor can help him. Only time and his own strengths.”
“Get him out of here, Evan,” Mr. Kay repeated. “He’s one of them. He’s dangerous.”
Evan shook his head, and Ellery wondered how she hadn’t noticed how wise and kind his eyes were. “He’d be more dangerous if we let him loose.”
“I won’t stand for it,” Mr. Kay warned, but Evan was already taking Ellery’s place at Conor’s side, helping him up the stairs.
“Come. Help me get him back to bed.”
Ellery glanced back.
“Evan.” Mr. Kay stood between the dart players, his face splotched with unreleased fury.
Evan never even paused or answered. “Are you sure we can stay?” Ellery asked. Evan dropped Conor’s unresponsive body back onto the rickety bed. “Only until he’s well enough to travel. Those men downstairs can be bought or threatened, but not for long. I can’t guarantee your safety more than a day or so. Once an Other reveals himself, it’s safer if he disappears.”
“Other,” she hesitated, “Others come here?”
Evan straightened from tucking the blankets around Conor. “Many. This is a place of refuge.”
“Some refuge.”
“My brother-in-law worries over his sister and his daughter living with such people.” Evan offered her a smile. “And being dependent on my charity also grates on his disposition.”
“But what can I do?”
“Rest. Sleep. He will mend, or he will die. That’s the way of mage sickness.”
Perfect. Mend and she had to confront the fact that her traveling companion was part wolf and may be her father’s killer. Die, and she had to face the Keun Marow alone. Neither one a thought to make sleep come easier.
“Well?”
Conor woke to Ellery spinning in a circle, showing off a dress of sprigged muslin. Was this another dream? He’d been drowning in a swamp of hallucinations, each nightmare ending with his waking—or so he thought until the next nightmare began. So he couldn’t be entirely sure. Although, he had to admit that this one was a thousand times better than any he’d had yet. “Are you real?” His voice sounded thick and croaky. He cleared his throat. “Or are you another bad dream?”
“So I’m a bad dream now, am I? That’s rich.” Conor pushed himself up on the pillow, even though it made his head swim. He wanted to say he preferred the half-naked look, but doubted by the challenge in her eye that it would go over well.
What could he say? The cut was simple, the style plain, but Ellery’s height and generous curves filled it to perfection. Even the color suited her dusky skin and picked up the brilliance of her blue eyes. She brushed the bed, and it took all his will to stop himself from dragging her by the skirts in beside him. Then reality hit, and he felt sick all over again.
“It’s better for traveling,” he answered lamely. “A lot of buttons, though.”
Her expression showed exactly what she thought of his answer. “You’re just grouchy because I won’t let you get out of bed until you’ve had a day to rest.”
“If you hadn’t forgotten, we’re being hunted.” She settled at the edge of his bed. “I haven’t, but thank you for reminding me. We won’t be any better off if you fall ill again on the road. At least here, we have a roof over our heads.”
“You take great stock in ceilings,” he commented.
“Try living without one.”
Her eyes stole to the window. When they met his again, the earlier light in them was gone. Hesitation and worry clouded their depths.
“Do you remember last night?”
Oh God, what had he done? What had he said? Had he tried groping her in his sleep? Or stolen a kiss? Did he snore? By the look in her eye, it was much worse. He had a moment’s panic that she’d found out the reliquary’s secret, but no. She would have been long gone if she’d made that discovery. “Very little,” he answered, vying for time. “I expect you’re about to fill me in on the gruesome details.”
She twisted her hands in her lap, shifted about on the bed. Sighed. She was vying for time too, it seemed. Finally, she spoke. “I’ve been thinking since you woke how to speak with you, what words to use to ask the questions.”
“I hadn’t considered you the timid type.”
“I’m not. Straight forward and bull-headed, that’s me. But that’s when I’m dealing with the world I know. You’re from an entirely different world where different rules apply. You tell me to trust you. You tell me I can’t understand. But damn it. I want to understand. I deserve to be trusted in return.”
Clanging anvils filled his head, he felt like something scraped off a boot heel, and now Ellery was carping at him. He closed his eyes.
“Don’t you get sick on me again, Conor Bligh. I want to—” The force of her thought pushed through the pain. “A Heller,” he spoke over her, not allowing her to finish.
“That’s what you wanted to know, isn’t it? I’m what they call a Heller.”
Chapter Eleven
How had she found that out? He’d been careful not to betray himself with any hint of that side of him. She’d been accepting of so much already. “It’s an Other with the ability to call on the powers of his or her fetch animal. Even to take on some of the characteristics of that animal. But how—”
It was her turn to cut him off. “You attacked the landlord.” The men. Ysbel’s ring.
His stomach lurched as he remembered. He’d assumed it was just another dream. His hand found his pocket.
“Are you looking for these?” Ellery handed him the pearl and th
e ring.
Thanks to Asher, the wolf-head ring was all he had left of his sister. When the time came, revenge would be sweet and very painful. He shoved both deep into his pocket.
“I thought I could pay for a doctor,” Ellery said.
“He would have been useless.”
“So I was told.” She picked at the bedcovers, obviously uneasy. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
She jerked to her feet, paced restlessly, confusion clouding her face.
“The pearl was yours,” he said, hoping to break through the tense silence. “It was the one I nicked from Mr. Porter. I wonder if he’s noticed yet.”
She shot him a sharp look. “You’re supposed to be indestructible. What happened?”
No more questions about the change? Could he be so lucky? Or had she come so far that nothing ruffled her anymore. Either way, he wouldn’t argue.
“I wish I knew,” he answered. “The Keun Marow’s poison affects fey power. Disrupts it. Can even kill if enough of it gets in your system. When I took on your wounds, I took on the poison. I knew that would happen and was prepared. But not for the severity of the collapse. It was like being infected by a hundred such hounds instead of only one.”
She cocked her head at a questioning angle. “You’ve got the reliquary. You don’t need me anymore. Why do you care what happens to me?”
“Asher is after you because of me.” What a smooth liar he was becoming. With his hand in his pocket, he tumbled the ring between his fingers. Ellery Reskeen would not stand between him and his task. No matter how dear she was or how desirable. He cut her off before she could ask him something else he couldn’t answer. “You were either very brave or very foolish to get involved last night.”
She offered him a crooked smile. “Probably a bit of both. But I wasn’t alone. Evan helped. He brought me the dress, too. You owe him a pound and six shillings for it, by the way. He’s told us to keep out of sight while we’re here. He isn’t sure how long he can guarantee our safety.”
“Now that I’ve revealed myself as Other, you mean.” It must have been the mother of all cock-ups if Evan had interceded. Despite the reputation of his inn among the Other, he didn’t like any attention drawn to the fact. His normal clientele weren’t so forgiving of strange doings and stranger people. Conor hoped he hadn’t bollixed things up for him too badly. He’d accused Ellery of leaving a trail for Asher and here he’d done everything but paint a bull’s-eye on their backs.
“Will it happen again? Your changing like that?”
“No. It’s a power, but one I use sparingly. The discipline and magic it requires make it dangerous. Draw on the power too often or too deeply and there’s no turning back. The man becomes lost. The beast takes over.”
She leaned back against the windowsill, pushed her curls off her face. “It seems everything you do is dangerous.”
He gave a short dry laugh. “Now, you’re catching on.”
She watched him sleep, damning herself for the worst sort of coward. All day they had spent talking. She could have brought up her father a million different ways. But every time, she shied away, and the question remained unasked.
But what a question.
Did you kill my father? How could anyone drop that into the middle of a conversation nonchalantly?
They’d talked of her father. She’d somehow found herself telling Conor long tales of her childhood. Of the days before her mother died when her father’s regiment had been stationed in the Leewards. Of pleading with him to take her along when he was sent home. Of clutching at his legs while his friends laughed or looked away until he’d finally been shamed into relenting. And later as they’d moved back and forth between stations at home and on the continent, she told Conor of how she gave ground as each new mistress entered her father’s life, took up the household duties as they moved on.
Security revolved in making herself indispensable, anticipating his needs before he did. Being a doormat when sometimes all she wanted was to throw his haversack back at him and never see another scarlet jacket again.
She liked to think they did well together after a fashion. And if there hadn’t been love, there had been respect and affection and laughter. It could have been so much worse.
Conor had listened and told his own stories. Stories of growing up in Cornwall, living in a house full of aunts and uncles and cousins, the comings and goings of a family balanced between the mortal world and the fey. He laughed, remembering the pranks he and his cousin, Ruan played on the others. His voice grew proud as he spoke of his gram’s un-tiring work as a healer in the neighborhood, of his father’s quiet strength as he tended his estate. The deep love he felt for them all was evident in every word. Ellery couldn’t help the envy that gnawed at her. She would have given her life to have such a family—or any family.
She’d asked him only once about Ysbel, the sister he’d lost. His eyes had gone black and empty. The pitiless stare of the fey. “My cousin Simon handed her over to Asher. Betrayed her to her death.”
But not once had she asked the question that gnawed at her stomach and twisted her insides until she stalked the corners of the room, measuring out the paces hour after hour.
Did you kill my father? “You don’t have to do this, Ellery.”
She spun around, her heart leaping in her chest. Conor was awake and watching her restless fuming. “Don’t startle me like that,” she snapped even as a wild fluttering started in her stomach. She couldn’t put it off forever. Now was her chance.
He regarded her from eyes mellowed by sleep, yet still she felt like he could pick out every thought in her head. “You don’t have to guard me like an invalid—or a madman.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I can tell you’re uncomfortable.”
“I’m not.”
He didn’t let her finish. “There’s a reason mortals know so little of the fey realm. It’s frightening—unnatural.”
“But you’re human—strange, to be sure, but not unnatural.” She tried laughing off his comment as she started pacing again.
He pushed himself up against the headboard, the quilt falling to his lap.
She swallowed hard at the sight of his chest, at the stippled tattoos that encircled his upper arms, raced across his collarbones, twined over his shoulders. Despite every warning signal, she ached for his touch. For that hungry anticipation she’d experienced when he’d laid his hands on her before. She knew he sensed her scrutiny, but what he thought was hidden in the unfathomable reaches of his eyes.
“There’s a new wariness in you,” he said. “A tension. Is it because of what I am? Because you saw me shift?”
She tried recreating the shock she’d felt at the changes in him. Tried to work up some horror or revulsion at the marks of the amhas-draoi that covered his body. It just wasn’t there.
She paused at the hearth. Wanting him and wanting to know the truth warred within her. “It’s not that.” She ran her fingers across the chimneypiece, fiddled with the candles.
“Then what?” He motioned to the bed. “Come. Sit. I can’t concentrate with you fidgeting like that.”
She dragged herself over to the bed, sat as close to the edge as she could without making it seem like she was avoiding him. But even there, the heat of his body sent a dizzying wave of need through her. This was ridiculous. She was a grown woman who’d lived cheek by jowl with men all her life. How was it that this man could light fires in her when no man before had ever even caused a spark? It wasn’t fair.
He reached out a hand as if he might caress her. Her stomach tightened, waiting for his touch. But before his fingers brushed her face, his hand dropped back to the bed. “Here.” He dug into the pocket of his breeches, came up with the pearl. “I told you before. It’s yours. I got it for you.”
She took it from him, hating her need, hating her fear. Hating her suspicions. Tears swam in her eyes. She sniffed and gave a shaky laugh. “How did you do it?”
She glanced over at his sword, hanging where she’d left it on the peg by the door. “I thought you might have killed him.”
With another quick movement of his wrist, the pearl reappeared. He handed it back to her. “Dealing death is a serious business. I don’t kill innocents for sport.” His voice hardened. “But I do what I have to do.”
“Did you have to kill my father?” There. She said it. His body grew still, a quick inrush of breath his only visible reaction. She waited, but he didn’t answer. He stared out the window, his eyes fixed on a point far distant or deep within. She couldn’t tell. The empty silence between them lengthened, stretched until she couldn’t stand it. She threw herself to her feet, her nails digging into her palms.
“Conor?”
The gaze he turned on her was as cold and cruel as death.
“Yes, Ellery. I had to kill him. There was no other way.”
Ellery’s pulse skittered in her throat, her blue eyes held the shine of unshed tears.
Conor wanted to wrap his arms around her, hold her while she wept. He fought to hold his hands in his lap. It was time to put the temptation aside once and for all. “He got in the way,” he said.
“And so you butchered him. I saw the blood. That wasn’t a killing. It was a massacre. You killed them all.”
“Think what you like. Asher was denied the reliquary.”
“And that was all that mattered to you. Not that my father had a family, people who cared about him.”
“According to you, he left behind only a bastard daughter and his latest whore who found a new bed partner within twenty-four hours.” His voice was purposefully cold and mocking.
“You filthy prick.”
“He broke the seals. If Asher loose is a threat, the Triad reunited would shake the world to its knees.”
“I wouldn’t know,” she countered. “I don’t know anything except what you’ve told me. You could be making this all up. Asher could be a lie, like everything else.”
Lost In You Page 7