by Mina Carter
Feral slid her a sideways glance, moving past her to get a look at the door they’d come through. “Maybe, or maybe I should go for the ‘or what’…”
“I’ll give you or what…”
Feral hid his grin as he turned to study the doorway. An honest to goodness ordinary doorframe just stood there in the middle of the clearing. Unlike the complicated wards and markings that graced the one they came through, in the basement of the hotel, this side was completely unadorned.
“One-way gate,” he murmured, half to himself. “Smart. Don’t want anything from this side getting through.” He smoothed his hand over the wood, the prickle of active wards warning him of heavy duty protection spells buried in the flimsy wood. “Some fancy Warden work here I’d say, your aunt must have paid a pretty penny for this lot.”
*
Tessa shrugged then shivered as she cuddled the baby closer, breathing in his familiar scent while she looked around. All babies smelled the same, like warm baby powder and well…pure baby. If anyone could bottle the stuff, they’d make a fortune! It was the ultimate “comfort smell.”
Feral’s comment about not wanting anything from this side to get through caused a chill to run down her spine. That didn’t sound good, not good at all. Her teasing mood, which had been clinging despite the odds, disappeared, as a new thought occurred to her. A very unwelcome thought.
“We’re on the Night Plains, aren’t we?” Her voice was quiet, wary. She’d heard of the place. Who hadn’t? It featured in every scary story told to any child with Fae blood. But she’d never thought her aunt meant it when she’d talked about travelling to the Fae Court.
“I’m afraid so.” Feral pushed away from the door and held his hand out to take a couple of the bags. Without a death squad of Pixies breathing down their necks, they didn’t need to be on such constant alert. She hoped his finely honed senses would warn him, if anything even thought about getting within spitting distance while they kept on the move…should they make it through this.
“Come on, we need to get going.”
Chapter Seven
Feral shifted position, grimacing as he tried to ease some life back into his leg. Not an easy task, considering Tessa was half lying across him, Spud in her arms. Both were fast asleep. They’d walked for a couple of hours through the endless night, following the parchment map Tessa had been given. Eager to get through the Plains, Feral would have pushed on, but Tessa had begun to stumble, her weariness showing in the droop of her shoulders and the heaviness of her steps.
He’d called a stop, knowing they weren’t going any further when she’d run into his back for the third time. Half mortal, she didn’t have the reserves he did. So now, they were settled into a clearing off the crude path, a fire blazing in front of them. Feral had taken watch, since he didn’t actually need to sleep, and Tessa was all but dead on her feet. He sat with his back against a broad tree trunk, his senses on high alert.
So far though, nothing. The combination of the fire and the scent of vampire was enough to keep most of the local wildlife away, so Feral let his attention wander. His hearing was acute enough to pick up, and track, anything with a heartbeat, which left him free to study the woman in his arms.
What was it about her I find so fascinating? He’d seen plenty of human-paranormal half-breeds but none affected him the way she did. And she was a damn Pixie to boot.
He didn’t like Pixies. It was a long standing dislike, one that had intensified last year. A bunch of Pixies had kidnapped his patrol partner, Vixen, and had damn near killed her. Worse, he’d gotten a right good pasting to boot. These days, it was a sorry Pixie that crossed Feral’s path!
He reached down to brush a stray lock of hair from her face. His fingers felt too big, too clumsy somehow, for such a delicate task, as he tucked it gently behind her ear. His whole body ached, keyed into every movement of the soft, feminine figure curled trustingly into his. His earlier frustration had leeched away, replaced by a need to protect. A feeling that was new to him, at least one this intense, and this specific.
He was used to the whole protection thing. Warriors patrolled the streets in small groups, keeping them clear of Rogue vampires. Rogue’s always posed a threat, to anyone, regardless of race. Blood was blood to the crazed, regardless of who donated it, and never willingly when a Rogue was involved.
But that was an impersonal sort of protection, just like a police officer patrolling the streets. What he felt for Tessa, and the baby, went far deeper. He needed to be around her, around them, see with his own eyes that they were okay. Protect them with his own hands, his own body, if necessary. And not hand that responsibility over to anyone else.
He frowned, considering that feeling. Was it love? He didn’t really believe in love. He’d thought he was in love before, with Vixen. For years, he’d waited for her to notice him. Trouble was, she’d only ever had eyes for Kalen. Actually, he’d never garnered the same amount of female attention as some of the other guys. Warriors like Mikal, or that new guy, Zarett, one of last year’s rookies. Both of them looked so good they could’ve double as models if they’d wanted. In fact, Zarett was known as “pretty boy” after an agent, while being attacked, tried to recruit him, right in the middle of a Rogue takedown. The guy had lived, just. He’d needed a couple of bags of O positive shoved into his veins and a mind-wipe, but he was still breathing, which was more than that could be said for the Rogue and Zee’s reputation.
Feral, by contrast, didn’t wear the fancy threads, couldn’t have told anyone the difference between one designer and the next. His hair, usually a source of vanity for the Kyn, was kept skin short with the aid of a razor. If ever there was a Kyn ugly duckling, he was definitely it!
He leaned his head against the bark and closed his eyes with a sigh. Love was too big an emotion to think about at the moment, what with mad Pixies chasing them and being right in the middle of Fae bandit country. It was the sort of internal debate that needed a copious amount of alcohol and possibly a pizza or two.
The warmth of the fire played across his face—his big body starting to relax, sliding into sleep.
Shit! What am I doing? He came to with a start, his instincts screaming at him as he fought his way back out of sleep. A deep, drugging sleep that was nowhere near natural. Adrenalin burned the fog from his brain as he blinked, his hand smoothing down Tessa’s back as she murmured and turned to him. The movement was so natural, so trusting, it tugged at the big man’s heart strings.
They weren’t alone.
Feral registered the new presence instantly, looking up to meet the eyes of a small figure standing on the other side of the fire. It hadn’t been there a moment ago, nor was he picking up a heartbeat. Which put paid to the illusion of a small girl the creature projected. The glamour was near perfect. But for that one tell-tale fact, Feral might have believed there was a human child standing there, looking at him. Then the wind changed slightly, the stench of rotting flesh drifting over the fire toward him. His stomach turned over.
He met the creature’s look, his expression dangerous and forbidding. His eyes plainly saying, “You want to dance? Come on, let’s dance then sweetheart, you just name the tune.” He had no idea what particular flavour of Fae nastiness this was, but there were nastier things that went bump in the night than a Fae.
And Feral was one of them.
He curled back his lips, flashing his fangs in a silent warning. Fully extended now in anticipation of a good fight, they were impressive, filling his mouth so much speech would be a tad difficult at present. Which wasn’t really a problem since he intended to rip the creature’s throat out if it made a move toward them, not engage it in conversation.
With a soft growl of disappointment, the creature turned and disappeared into the darkness. Feral was glad he’d made it clear they weren’t going to be easy pickings. He shook his head. Never judge a book by its cover, he thought, as he leaned down to wake Tessa. “Come on sweetheart, we need to get moving again.”
* * *
It was too early. Way too early. Tessa grumbled under her breath as she trudged along after Feral, missing her nice, warm duvet and her comfortable mattress. A feeling which wasn’t helped at all by Feral, who looked bright and breezy, as though he’d had a full night’s sleep and just hopped out of the shower.
It just wasn’t fair! How the hell could he look so good when she knew he’d been awake the entire night, leaning against that tree trunk? She ran a hand through her tousled hair, making a face. She felt like she’d slept in her clothes, which she had, and she had the nagging feeling something unpleasant had crawled up under her jeans, leaving an itchy trail over her skin. All feelings that contributed to her grumpy mood. Not to mention the fact she’d had less than her eight hours, and hadn’t inhaled at least three cups of coffee yet, which she needed, to feel at least halfway human. Or Pixie.
“So how long before we get there?” she asked, hoisting the still sleeping Spud higher in her arms, grateful she’d thought to grab one of the twin’s sling carriers on the way out of her sister’s trashed apartment. Without it, he’d be getting awfully heavy right about now, and it meant he could sleep on, undisturbed, as they carried on walking. A stab of envy hit her, one she immediately felt guilty about. It wasn’t his fault. Whatever had happened that led to him being left on Feral’s doorstep, no one could blame the baby.
He made a contented little sound and nuzzled closer into her, his tiny hand splaying over her collar bone. She smiled, her heart melting in that instant, snuggling him closer. There was just something about baby cuddles that made her forget everything that was bothering her. Maybe just for a second or two, but sometimes, that was all she needed.
*
Now what had that little smile been all about? Feral wondered silently as he folded out the parchment map, checking their location. Like everything else that surrounded Tessa and her, frankly odd aunt, it hadn’t exactly been what he’d been expecting. The old fashioned parchment and script handwriting hadn’t been a surprise, but the little smiley faces and flowers along the border had been. Guess young girls weren’t much different, no matter what century they were born in.
“I think we’re either here, or here,” he said, tapping the map.
Tessa looked over his arm, a frown creasing the centre of her brow. “Here, or here? You mean you don’t know?” she asked, her voice sounding incredulous. “Well, isn’t that just like a man?”
Feral caught the teasing look in her eyes but he bit anyway, the edge of uneasiness he’d been feeling for the last hour or so eating away at him.
“Well, it’s not like we can stop and ask a local, is it?” he threw back, eyebrow arching. “Stop anything around here and it’d be more interested in stripping your flesh to the bones than giving you directions!”
*
Tessa gave him “the look,” but he was right. All they had was the hand-drawn map and it wasn’t the most accurate of documents. It had no scale, no compass, or even easily discernible features. Which wasn’t a problem since there were no landmarks in the damn place, just endless plains of ratty scrub lands and dank little woods. She snorted to herself. Hell, stick a couple “here be dragons” and a red “X” on this thing, and it could double as a kid’s pirate treasure map.
She carried on studying it, trying to make out where they were along the marked trail, then shrugged. “I can’t make heads or tails of it either…”
“Shhh!” He held his hand up in warning, silencing her instantly. Had a guy done that to her normally, his ears would be ringing from the tongue lashing she’d give him for being arrogant. But not Feral, especially not when he was doing the whole “living statue” thing again, his eyes unfocused as he gazed around their surroundings. She tried as well, listening for anything out of the ordinary, scanning their surroundings for things likely to leap out and attack them at any moment.
But nothing, she couldn’t see or hear anything odd. For all she knew, he could have smelled something dangerous. She wouldn’t have had a clue on that angle, her sense of smell had packed in a few minutes after they’d come through the door, in defence against the funky smell, which seemed to surround everything here.
Thump, thump, thump…
The sound of heavy footsteps formed out of the silence, heading toward them, accompanied by a thrashing sound. Like a kid smacking at weeds with a stick. A large stick. Tessa’s eyes widened as the ground beneath their feet quaked. “God, how big is that?”
*
“I have no clue, but ten to one, it ain’t gonna be friendly. Here, have these, get behind those rocks.” He handed her the bags he’d been carrying and nodded toward an outcrop just off the path. Large enough to use as cover in case of flying debris, they might even be large enough to conceal her if this were to go bad. And it was quite likely to go bad. His Kyn instincts were screaming at him, the skin between his shoulder blades crawling, as all his senses told him this wasn’t going to be pretty.
As Tessa scurried to the safety of the rocks, Feral stood in the middle of the path. He only had his blades on him, but that would have to do. Whatever was coming down that path was going to have to get through him, before it got to Tessa and the baby.
His jaw clenched, eyes straining with determination. No way was he making this easy. Feral rolled his neck, easing the big muscles in his shoulders. Moving slowly, with a deliberation that was unique to the big warrior, he reached into the small of his back. His fingers slid into the leather wrapped grips of his blades, pulling them free with a practiced movement.
He settled them more comfortably over his knuckles, eyes on the turn in the path, the light glinting off the lethally sharp blades. “KDFH”—the lads at the compound called them. “Knuckle Dusters from Hell.”
He’d defended himself, and others, many times with these. His speed, accuracy and sheer energy, making him the equal of Kalen. With his twin blades, he could even land a point or two on Marak, every now and then.
Thump, thump, thump…
Feral’s eyes narrowed as the footsteps got closer. No matter how good or how fast he was, the fact remained that whatever approached them, sounded big. And the blades on his knuckles were looking smaller by the minute. He’d always taken the piss out of Mikal and the others for carrying modern weaponry, but right about now, he wished like hell he was packing heat.
He rolled his neck again, adrenalin racing through his veins as the footsteps, and that odd thrashing noise drew closer and closer, until it was just around the corner.
Then it was there. The huge bulk of…something…filling the turn in the path.
Something straight out of a nightmare.
“Holy…crap,” Feral breathed as he looked up, then looked up some more. It wasn’t a creature. It was a damn mountain range!
A mountain range covered in gnarled, wart-dotted skin. Skin ingrained with dirt and slime, and stretched over a roughly man-shaped frame. One that was hunched over like an old man. But it wasn’t the strength of an old man that was flailing about the massive club it held in its hand, nonchalantly.
“Great, just fucking great.”
An Ogre. First, it had been the bloody Pixies, and now a damn Ogre. Feral sighed and readjusted his blades again. This was going to really hurt…
“Come on then handsome, let’s dance.”
*
Tessa headed over to the rocks, ducking behind them as her heart pounded so loudly she thought it would burst out of her chest. Spud, picking up on her fear, began to fret.
“Shush, shush…its fine. It’s all going to be fine,” she whispered, as she rocked his tiny form in reassurance. She moved slightly, trying to peer over the rocks to see what was happening.
Feral just stood there, studying the blades on his hands so calmly she wanted to scream. He didn’t look at all bothered. That had to be a good sign, right? Her eyes flowed down the lines of his large body, noting the tension there. He rolled his neck again, eyes straight, riveted on the turn in the pat
h. If Feral had been alert before, his attention was complete now, his body virtually humming with awareness.
She stifled a scream when the creature came into view. An Ogre… She’d seen sketches of them in books. The sort of books carefully concealed in the houses of Pixies that lived outside Barrows, or that masqueraded as children’s’ storybooks, just in case a human should catch sight of them.
It wouldn’t do—if they ever found out that certain childhood tales were real. Sure, some, like the Watchers and Slayers groups knew the truth, but that was limited, and carefully controlled. On average, a single human was intelligent when confronted with the truth. It was humanity en masse that was the problem. In a group, they were fearful, intent on destroying anything they didn’t understand.
Which wouldn’t be a bad thing at the moment, she decided, wincing as the creature spotted Feral and roared. It charged with a speed it shouldn’t have had, not being that large and misshapen. Like someone had taken a plasticine man and mushed it about a bit, distorting the joints and limbs into a hideous parody of the human form.
But its face was perhaps the worst. Unlike Ogres portrayed in films, this creature wasn’t the dumb and ambling, “fairly easily beaten if you had a modicum of intelligence” creature they were generally made out to be. No, its deep set eyes gleamed with a malevolence and intelligence that was marked, even from this distance.
Noticing the eyes though, meant you had to tear your attention away from the teeth crammed into its mouth. Razor sharp and packed in like sardines, they glinted in the half-light as it roared. Tessa caught her breath as it bore down on Feral, imagining the damage those teeth would do if it got a hold of him.
The Ogre swung the massive club at Feral, going for a full body blow. There wasn’t anything else she could call it, given the size of the thing, it wasn’t a weapon designed for pinpoint accuracy. Or any sort of accuracy.