“What are you doing here?” he said, catching Isidro off guard as he passed between buildings and slipped his phone in the inside pocket of his jacket. Isidro stopped, glancing into the inky blackness of the alley.
“Logan, how wonderful to see you. At least it would be. Come out and say hello.” Isidro’s voice was light, inviting, but Logan knew better. The man had been plotting and scheming since the Dark Ages. It wasn’t a coincidence the vampire was in Columbus, Ohio, at the same time he was.
Logan dropped the three stories to the shadowed alley from his perch on the roof. He landed easily on the balls of his feet and rose, striding out into the glare of a streetlamp. “What are you doing here,” Logan repeated, his voice a deep, unmistakable threat.
“Ah, the prodigal son,” Isidro sneered.
Slipping his hand in the pocket of his slacks, Isidro exuded a casual ease that made Logan grind his teeth with the affront. The only way Isidro could have insulted him more would’ve been to turn his back on him entirely. The smirk cresting Isidro’s sneering lips left no latitude for misinterpretation. The bastard knew exactly what he was doing.
“I am, of course, here to make sure you have everything you need.” Isidro turned his calculating gaze on Logan and he took a step back. “It is going well, isn’t it?”
“Everything is moving along according to plan,” Logan almost snarled.
“And what is that plan?” Isidro asked. “To wear her out? Your orders were to kill her, make an example of her and Patrick. These parlor tricks will do nothing but threaten our very existence.”
“I am aware of my orders. Konyam was very specific,” Logan hissed through clenched teeth.
“Did he instruct you to alert the entire human race to our existence?” Isidro snapped, anger and frustration turning his clean scent into a spicy mix of bergamot and linen.
Logan couldn’t stop the malicious grin that turned up the corner of his lips. The Game Maker, as some on the board had been calling Isidro for centuries, needed to learn that he wasn’t the only one to use subterfuge as a weapon. “Konyam instructed me to destroy them all by any means necessary.”
Isidro stepped back and out of the light from the streetlamp above but it made no difference. Logan had already seen the horror reflected on the vampire’s face.
“Konyam is obviously more concerned about The Blushing Death than he let on,” Isidro said, his tone careful and evasive.
“Should we not call the bitch what she is? Fertiri. They should have drowned her at birth like the mongrel she is,” Logan spat.
Isidro’s shrewd gaze followed him in a way that made Logan feel as if there was a knife at his back and he fought the urge to turn.
“You are well informed,” Isidro muttered. “Too well informed.”
“Konyam believed I needed to understand the enemy we were up against,” Logan answered, enjoying the expression of disapproval furrowing Isidro’s brow. He didn’t mention that Konyam had not looked up from his work the entire time Logan had been in his office, or that the ancient vampire had dismissed him as if they’d meant nothing to each other. That pain, Logan would keep to himself.
“So, it would appear the Ancient Lord has drawn his line in the sand. This alters things.” Isidro mumbled so low, Logan almost didn’t hear him.
“What plans?” Logan asked, suspicion making his tone an accusation.
“To make sure you succeed, of course.” Isidro sounded so sure, so haughty, but Logan had heard the scheme in his tone, smelled the fear in his scent.
“What are you playing at?”
If there was something that could shift Logan back into Konyam’s good graces and back into his bed, it was a scheme to thwart. Konyam didn’t particularly care for Isidro, knew he was a threat. If Logan could serve up The Blushing Death, Patrick Cavanaugh, and Isidro Grimaldi, Konyam would have no choice but to reward him.
“Survival, Necromancer. As always, I intend to survive.”
Chapter 11
Alex, Ev, and I strolled through the front door and stopped. Niyati stood in the foyer, pacing back and forth, looking shaken. She stopped and met my gaze with relief as her shoulders slumped.
“I’m so glad you’re back,” she said, taking a step toward us.
The soft warm hum of fae magic caressed my skin and made my hair stand on end. Alex stiffened beside me and I knew she felt it too.
“We have visitors,” I whispered with reverence. “And a few more than just Saeran, correct?”
“Yeah, and the mysterious fae from the other night,” Ev added from behind me. I grabbed his hand in mine. His fingers trembled in my grip and I squeezed just a bit tighter to ease his nerves.
“Are you all right?” Niyati asked Alex, grazing the smaller woman’s cheek with her fingertips.
“I’m fine,” Alex reassured her but even I could see her jaw clench as Niyati turned back to me. Isidro showing up had affected Alex more than she was willing to admit, even to Niyati. Family could do that to you.
“What’s the matter?” I whispered back to Ev in a low hum of notes I knew only he, Alex, and Niyati would be able to hear.
“I can’t tell which,” he admitted.
“What?” Alex almost shouted.
“Christ on crutches, Alex, tell the world we’re conspiring,” I hissed.
She shook her head. “I know. I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Patrick and I were going to have a conversation about Alex’s coping skills. With Niyati on her mind at all times and Isidro making an appearance, Alex’s usually smooth demeanor was crumbling.
I turned back to Ev. “What do you mean?”
Everett was a tracker and his nose was super sensitive. It was what he was built for. He’d once tracked me two miles over the Las Vegas Strip. Ask any werewolf and they’ll tell you that feat is almost impossible with all the foot traffic, the exhaust fumes from the constant 24/7 vehicle traffic, and the wind blowing across the flat desert. Impossible, but not for Ev.
“You can’t pick out which it is or which fae is which?” I asked.
He thought for a moment, taking a deep breath. “The second.” He narrowed his gaze on me as if I’d just opened Pandora’s Box.
“A spell?” Alex asked.
“Mmmmm,” I agreed.
“What do we do?” Niyati asked, looking from me to Alex and then back again.
Ev clasped his hands tight in front of him, wringing his fingers together, tying them into white-knuckled knots.
“Go rattle some cages and see what falls out,” I said.
“Your favorite attack method,” Niyati snorted.
“It works, doesn’t it?” I snapped over my shoulder at her.
“One day it’ll get you killed,” she answered back. There was no emotion in her tone, a simple statement of fact. She was probably right.
“Well, it’s a good thing today isn’t that day.” I squared my shoulders and stalked into the house.
We rounded the corner and strode into the living room where the air was thick, reeking of burnt sugar and adrenaline. My mind flashed back to the pixies in Likho’s castle and the thousands of tiny, sharp-toothed creatures that had attacked, scratching and biting until they tasted my blood. I knew, by stench of burnt sugar, that at least one of the fae was anxious. Dean stood in the large double pocket doors, his shoulders tight and his jaw locked. His arms were crossed over his massive chest and he acknowledged my presence with a slight nod but kept his gaze on the fae in the room.
Patrick and Saeran stood in the center of the living room, talking in low tones about Ciro—the Eastern Seaboard’s Vampire Liege. It was his territory and protection Saeran had vacated more than six months ago.
Milagra and another woman stood by the bay windows at the front of the room, talking and laugh
ing as if they were old friends. It was the first time I’d seen Milagra laugh openly since I’d met her in the bowels of a mad fae’s castle.
Konstantin rummaged in the refrigerator in the kitchen for God knows what? He was a vampire and couldn’t eat anything in there. Fergal, Saeran’s nephew, stood guard at Aoife’s side. She sat primly on the edge of the couch, watching the room. Her skin, the color of the sky on a warm spring day, and silver eyes glittered and shone even in the soft light in the room. Fergal was a warrior first and heir to the throne of Faerie second. His skin glimmered like a polished penny, his long shimmering hair of the same color was tied tight at the nape of his neck. He met my gaze with deep-set eyes and a nod of acknowledgement. It was the most I could expect from him. Like Dean, Fergal didn’t talk much. But he respected me and that was good enough for now.
“Good Evening,” I said, glancing about the room. I slipped out of my jacket and handed it to Ev, followed by the sheath that secured Gladi down my back. I wouldn’t have time to pull it if one of them attacked me anyway, there wasn’t enough room in the tight space, especially with the number of people. I didn’t want to hurt someone I loved and I didn’t want the extra weight. I left the Smith and Wesson at the small of my back right where it was and my hand casually at my hip, ready to draw. Silver bullets wouldn’t stop them but it would slow them down enough to give me an edge.
“Dahlia,” Patrick called.
I knew by the twinge of anger in my gut, Patrick was close to ripping someone’s throat out. Oh, this was going to be good. Patrick appeared pale, his brow furrowed in a tight ‘V,’ and his shoulders stiff, showing off the smooth line of his silk jacket.
He hadn’t fed yet. Yeah, this definitely wasn’t going to be good.
“We were just discussing the idea of ambassadors. Saeran suggested that building a bridge between our two kingdoms would be a wonderful idea.” Patrick smiled, showing too much fang, making it almost a sneer. How he’d managed to turn our plan into Saeran’s idea and convince the fae king of it, made my head turn. Sometimes, Patrick was too smooth for his own good. I sure as hell was glad he was on my side.
His words played over and over again in my mind. Kingdom? That was the first time he’d referred to us as anything other than a territory of Lebensblut. I have to say, I didn’t hate it.
I glanced around, wondering if anyone else had noticed. Dean’s grim scowl told me he’d noticed Patrick’s insinuation too. Fergal and Aoife seemed unaffected by the slip and Milagra beamed sheer contentedness at the woman beside her. I doubted she’d even heard what was going on beyond the circle of that woman. This had to be Riona, the only one here I didn’t recognize. Riona was Queen of Faerie and the only thing Milagra had known as a Mother.
“I’m sorry,” I said, extending my hand and taking the five or six steps to close the distance between the fae Queen and myself. “We haven’t met.”
“My Dear Dahlia,” Saeran cooed with a bright, prideful light in his eyes. “Please forgive me. This is my beautiful wife and Queen of Faerie, Riona.”
The fae Queen’s eyes were as blue as a sapphire and her skin was lit from within by the sun shining beneath her flesh. She wore a white gown the color of clouds on a warm summer day and it clung to her body, caressing her curves until almost every eye in the room was on her. Maybe I should have been jealous but I just couldn’t move like that. I wasn’t a sex kitten, created to lure men in and destroy them. I was a killer. And I was good at it.
Her smile was radiant as she met Saeran’s appreciative gaze and then smiled down at Milagra. The smile she gave me, however, wasn’t so genuine.
“Your Highness,” I said, bowing my head to the woman. I darted my gaze up to watch her as I moved.
She breathed deep, as if interacting with me was a chore, and turned her gaze back toward her adoptive daughter.
Ignoring her, I glanced over her shoulder at Patrick and asked, “Have we decided who is to go?” He would be saving that part for the most opportune moment. I could always count on Patrick to release information with the most dramatic flair, especially when it served his purposes.
“We were waiting on you to finalize that decision,” he said as if the decision hadn’t already been made.
Alex moved swiftly around me to stand beside Dean, vampire and werewolf as a united front. How touching and poignant.
“Perhaps this is a good chance for Milagra to spend some time with her adoptive family,” I said.
I smiled at Milagra, as much as this benefited us, I also knew Milagra missed them. She’d spent too much time in the Outer Realm alone. After Likho had kidnapped her from Saeran’s grasp and used her as a tool, she’d become a killing machine. She deserved to be whole again. My voice must have been more convincing than I thought. Milagra rushed me, falling to her knees at my feet as she wrapped her arms around my thighs. Gazing up at me with her dark sultry eyes full of glee and trepidation, she actually smiled.
“Do you mean it?” she asked, tears welling up and spilling over her cheeks.
I reached out and caressed her smooth skin, brushing her thick, dark hair from her face.
“Of course I mean it.”
A tear welled in her dark eye, soaking her onyx lashes but she blinked it away.
“Soon, you and Konstantin will go to Faerie and act in our place,” I said. “I want you to be happy, Milagra.”
After the pain she’d caused Patrick, torturing him for days on end, I should have hated her. But she was Pack and I truly wanted her to be happy. I had the feeling she and Konstantin hid more secrets and degradation than we would ever know.
The fae queen stepped behind her adoptive daughter who was still kneeling before me. She watched us with disgust in her glare and her skin stretched tight across her neck as she ground her teeth. Riona and Saeran had lost Milagra all on their own. I’d merely been the one to save her. I was still trying to put the pieces of her shattered soul back together. We owed them nothing. I could taste Riona’s anger on the air like a rotten orange, bitter and tart. Something about that made me just a little bit happier.
“Thank you for allowing me to spend time with my daughter,” Riona bit out.
Ev stepped up beside me, bristling at the woman’s tone and the anger hidden within her words. He was close enough for me to feel the heat from his body, giving me strength, giving Milagra strength.
Milagra stood. Her dark gaze met mine for a brief moment, an apology in their depths. She clasped her adoptive mother’s hand and tugged the fae queen back and out of my reach.
“Whether you like it or not, Your Highness, Milagra is mine. She is protected by our Pack and myself.” My voice was calm, a steel edge to slice through the room as everyone else fell silent.
“She is my daughter,” Riona bit out, a storm brewing in her deep blue eyes.
Milagra led Riona further into the room and away from me, directing the Queen’s attention elsewhere. I let her. Slicing the fae queen open probably wasn’t in our best interests at the moment. I could be diplomatic too.
“Not for a very long time has she been yours. We saved her and protected her where you could not. Renewing a relationship with you would help Milagra fill a void in her that she has grown too accustomed to in her long life. Our main concern is the happiness of OUR people,” Patrick said. Menace gave an edge to Patrick’s beautiful voice and by Riona’s wide eyes she hadn’t expected it. “And must remain so.”
Power I knew lay deep within him flashed across the room in an icy stab of energy and prickled across my skin. The chilly invasion of his vampiric energy caressed me and I shivered as if he’d stroked a line of cold fire down my neck until it circled the plump nipple now hard with arousal.
“You speak as a true king,” Saeran said, somewhere between astonished and proud.
“And your representative, Saeran?” Alex aske
d, getting straight to the point.
“Aoife will remain behind and act on our behalf as arrangements are made,” Riona snapped.
“Thank you,” Milagra mouthed to me as she beamed up at Riona.
“Ev, help me get drinks for everyone,” I said, needing a quick exit.
“We will discuss timing soon.” Patrick turned to Saeran. “Unfortunately, Milagra and Konstantin will be needed here for a little while longer.”
“We understand,” Saeran said but I could hear the disappointment in his tone.
Ev followed me through the dining room and den to the kitchen, where Konstantin was loading a tray with glasses, ice, wine, water, juice, and soda. Basically everything we had in the house. Once we were in the kitchen, I turned on Ev. “Well?”
“When you riled her up, I got a good nose-full,” he said with a pleased little grin on his face.
“And?”
“Is that your plan? To piss everyone off?” Ev asked, still grinning like an idiot. He was playing with me, the little shit.
“She is very good at it, no?” Konstantin added with a wink.
“Ev!” I snapped.
“Whatever magic their using, it’s good stuff. Her adrenaline ratcheted up the scent of the whole instead of just hers. Everything was muddled together.”
“Shit!”
“I’m sorry,” Ev said, his head hanging as he flinched away from me.
I reached out, clutching his chin in my grip as I turned his face up to meet my gaze. I didn’t ever want him hiding from me. “Hey, you did what you could. Sometimes the magic is stronger. We’ll find out what we need to know another way.”
Emerald Fire (A Blushing Death Novel Book 6) Page 7