“Uh-huh. It was strange because I never see you in my visions. It’s always people I don’t know, in a place that’s mystical and . . . different. I don’t think it’s Earth.”
Mairi was afraid to ask exactly where Rowan was transported during her visions. She didn’t think she could bear it if it was heaven.
“I think it’s the afterworld, you know? It’s so beautiful and green. Lush. Peaceful. But you were there, standing in a wooded grove. I saw you with Mr. Hottie. What’s his name?” she asked sleepily.
“Bran?”
“Yeah. You were together. I couldn’t figure it out, how you were there in the afterlife.”
“Maybe it was because we were in the club and you were thinking about me?”
Rowan shrugged, her head lolling to the side. “He was protecting you from something, but I don’t know what.”
“It was just an aura, Rowan. It wasn’t real.”
“So they tell me. Mairi?”
“Hmm?”
“Do you know that in the Druid religion, the name Bran means raven? The Celts believed that the raven ruled the Otherworld.”
“Really?” Rowan was a walking encyclopedia of pagan knowledge. How she remembered it all baffled Mairi. For as long as Mairi had known Rowan she’d been into the occult.
Mairi smiled to herself, remembering the day they had met in the library at Our Lady of Perpetual Sorrow. They’d been eight and Rowan had been reading a book, her little legs swinging back and forth, too short to touch the ground. She’d looked up and her green eyes had been glowing.
“I’ve been waiting for you,” she’d said as if she’d known all along that they were fated to meet.
They’d been the best of friends ever since. Rowan had been a ward of the school, abandoned on the steps at age five by her mother. Mairi had used the school as a sanctuary from her abusive, alcoholic father.
“In my vision, Bran was standing beside you, and he had . . . wings. Black wings, like a raven.”
“What the hell?” Mairi slammed on the brakes as a black shape appeared in the middle of the road. The car came to a lurching halt. Through the swishing wiper blades and the steady stream of rain, Mairi squinted and saw some kind of animal lying in the middle of her lane.
“What happened?”
“Something’s on the road.”
“Oh,” she heard Rowan mumble. Glancing in the mirror, she saw her friend draw the blanket up around her shoulders. Her head rested against the window and her breathing was slow and deep. The drugs were finally working.
Glancing back out the windshield, Mairi saw that the shape was that of a large bird. She couldn’t drive over it, nor could she leave it there. She’d always had a soft spot for animals, and the way the black feathers blew in the wind reminded her of the feather that had skimmed down her arm outside Velvet Haven.
She thought back to Rowan’s bizarre vision. For a fleeting second she believed her friend, before hard logic smashed the thought. Tumors could provoke all kinds of crazy ideations and visions that didn’t make any sense. Still, though, there was no denying that something strange was in the air. Unbuckling her seat belt, Mairi reached for a towel that she’d swiped from St. Mike’s and opened the door. She ran to the bird and bent down on the cold, wet road. She saw chest movement, rapid and shallow, and realized the bird was still alive, although its wing was badly mangled. Picking it up as gently as she could, she felt its beak pierce her hand. There was still fight in the thing if it was able to bite her.
“Stop that,” she said gruffly as she handled the bird more carefully. “I’m only trying to stop you from becoming tire splat.”
The bird stopped and she felt it stiffen in her hands as if rigor had just settled in. Then it cocked its head and looked up at her, as if it was listening. Toweling off the excess wetness from its feathers, she was careful to avoid its wing.
Brushing her hand through the feathers to make sure most of the water was gone and her upholstery was going to stay relatively dry, Mairi noticed the silver stripe that ran along its back. It had been partially buried beneath wet feathers, but now that they were all unruffled, the stripe was clearly visible.
Oh, shit! It was the bird from the club.
“Why are you out here by the hospital?” she asked, as if speaking to a bird were perfectly normal. “You’re blocks away from the club.”
The bird didn’t answer. Not that she expected it to. Cradling it to her chest, she ran back to the car and carefully placed it on the passenger seat. She thought about taking it to an animal shelter, but she knew they’d only put it out of its misery. For some reason, she couldn’t stand the prospect. There was something about this bird that she liked. It made her feel calm.
She thought back to what Rowan had said, and an image of Bran looming over her, licking her sex, fired up in her brain. “Stupid,” she muttered as she buckled her seat belt and pulled the gear shifter into drive.
So he gave her a hell of an orgasm; it didn’t mean he was keeper material. Hell, he was nowhere to be found when she had left the club with Rowan. For all she knew, he’d gotten what he wanted out of her and taken off without a backward glance. Damn, she wished she could remember the events after that blinding orgasm.
What the hell had happened to make her forget?
She looked down at the bird as she drove, studying the gray mark. “I don’t know anything about birds,” she grumbled. “How the hell am I gonna fix your wing?”
“You’llthink of something. And I will repay you with my life.”
Mairi looked at the bird. God, now she was hearing things.
“Mairi?”
She startled at the sound of Rowan’s voice. “Yeah?”
“Do you believe in fate?”
“No.”
“You should, because yours is staring at you right now.”
From the shadows of a building, Suriel watched Mairi head back to her car. The raven was in her hands, just as he had planned. He watched her carefully place the bird on the seat. A softness in him warmed his usually cold insides.
He had intended for her to find the Sidhe king. It was their fate.
He knew that now. Although he’d wanted desperately to keep Mairi from the Sidhe, it was not to be. His purpose in her life was ending.
A hollowness filled him as he finally accepted the truth. Unknown to her, he had been at her side since birth, watching over her, guiding her. He hadn’t always understood his purpose in her life, just that He had willed it so. And now He had shown Suriel the path her life would take, and the part he would play in it. A damn millennium here on Earth, with no fucking contact from anyone from above, and tonight he gets a message that Mairi’s path lay with the raven, and not him.
He still didn’t want to accept that his precious human was meant for Sidhe scum. They all believed him responsible for the ills that had befallen Annwyn. But it wasn’t as though he’d barged through the veil and slaughtered everyone in sight. He hadn’t brought locusts and plague. He’d had sex with a goddess. And she had seduced him. Yet the raven despised him as though Suriel alone were responsible.
He hated Annwyn and all its inhabitants. He hated the goddesses the most. He blamed them for his fall. He’d had over a millennium to reconcile himself to his actions. Yet a thousand years later he was still embittered.
Except for when it came to Mairi. She was the key to his redemption. She was what was left of the good in him. She was the healer that the raven would need to save himself from Morgan’s curse. He had a role to play in both their lives, if only the raven would not be such a pigheaded ass as he usually was.
He wanted out. Needed out. He was tired of this existence. And at last he had found a way.
Mairi had the book of the prophecy. She could interpret it, the Scribe’s coded message. A flame and an amulet and a divine trinity, which would lead the way to both artifacts.
He didn’t give a shit about the amulet. He wanted the flame. Which meant, of course, that once he
delivered Mairi over to the raven, his connection to the Sidhe king was not over. To find redemption, Suriel knew, meant discovering the identity of the Destroyer and obliterating him from both Annwyn and Earth.
But first he must unite with the king of Annwyn, meshing both their worlds to one single purpose: uncover the identity of the Dark Mage, and destroy his apprentice.
Only then would God welcome him back home.
After tucking Rowan into her bed, Mairi went in search of her dog’s old crate. She needed something to put the bird in.
“That’s enough,” Mairi snapped, tugging on Clancy’s collar. “You don’t have to show your teeth; believe me, the birdie knows who’s boss.”
Her huge Irish wolfhound gave a throaty snarl, his long canines bared, staring at the bird, who was standing on her kitchen counter proudly, as if egging Clancy on.
“You must have a death wish,” she muttered, scooting the bird farther back on the counter. “He can reach up here, you know. Just look away and show him you know he’s in charge and he’ll go lie down.”
The bird cocked its head to the side and studied her. His eyes actually looked as though they narrowed at the insinuation that Clancy was top dog.
“Fine, then, become the midnight snack,” she griped as she left them to duke it out.
She found the old crate in a closet and wandered back to the kitchen with it. The metal box crashed to the floor, clanging on the ceramic tiles, as she took in the scene before her. Clancy was sitting on his haunches, ears back almost flat against his head. One paw was extended as he whimpered in supplication at the bird’s feet.
What the hell?
The bird watched Clancy, its head high, its gaze fixed on her dog as if it were trying to teach it some manners. Whatever was going on, Clancy was suddenly as submissive as a lamb.
The bird cawed quietly and Clancy dropped his paw before slinking out of the kitchen, tail between his legs.
Picking up the crate, Mairi set it down beside the kitchen table. Then she reached for a bowl, filled it with some tepid water and an ounce of rubbing alcohol, and reached for a cloth.
As she gently wiped away the dried blood on the bird’s wing, Clancy whimpered behind her. Nothing cowed Clancy! The bird must have pecked at his eyes! Glancing over her shoulder, she watched as Clancy whimpered once more, then slowly lowered his big body onto the kitchen floor.
“Wow, what’s up with you tonight?” she teased. But the dog didn’t cock his head while she talked to him as he usually did, but instead stayed totally focused on the bird.
“Don’t worry, Clance, he’s not going to be a permanent fixture around the place.”
The bird was stoic as she worked. It watched quietly as she carefully cleaned the wound with the warm water and rubbing alcohol. It didn’t even try to pull away as she poured the solution over its wound, despite the fact she knew it must sting. It was as if it knew she was trying to help, not hurt.
Winding the white gauze around the mauled appendage, she suddenly noticed the glistening swirl of silver and gold on the fine feathers of its head. “What’s this?” she asked aloud, stroking her fingertip along the marks. “Did you get into some paint?”
The raven’s eyes closed as she stroked him once more. For a wild bird it certainly was calm. She half expected to have her hand pecked as she tried to bind the wing. But it had stood still and quiet, letting her work.
“There,” she said, pulling away. “Now in the crate you go.” It squawked, trying to fly away from her, but she resisted the flapping good wing and shoved him into the crate. “Sorry, but it’ll have to do for tonight.”
The door slammed shut and Mairi clicked the latch into place. She had no idea what else to do for the creature. Was it hungry? All she had was canned dog food and Milk- Bones, neither of which she thought the raven would enjoy.
“Tomorrow I’ll get you some seed. Sleep tight,” she whispered, gazing into the crate. Man, she was beat. When she bent down to look at the bird she actually thought it had Bran’s mismatched eyes.
Yep. Exhausted. It was time for bed.
She shut off the kitchen light, leaving the light on above the oven, then padded across the living room floor to the couch. She stripped out of her shirt and jeans, silently laughing at the bird, who seemed to be spying on her through the metal bars of the dog crate. As she reached for the tank top she’d laid out she had the sudden feeling someone was watching her.
Whirling in a circle, Mairi hissed, “Who’s there?”
Silence. Even the bird stood still as a statue, its head cocked to the side as if listening with her. She was definitely spooked. Even the fine hairs on her arms were raised.
Mairi searched the apartment but found nothing other than the bedroom window she’d forgotten to close before leaving for the club. Maybe it was the brush of the curtain against the wall she’d heard? After checking on Rowan one last time, Mairi quietly tiptoed back into the living room, where she dropped onto the couch and covered herself with a light blanket.
It was hot in the apartment, despite the fact it was only May. The heat made her skin prickle against the worn fabric of the couch. It felt abrasive, like steel wool, and she flopped onto her back, trying to find relief.
Above her, the ceiling fan quietly turned, giving her momentary periods of relief from the heat. While her body was fatigued, her mind was active. She couldn’t stop thinking about
Bran, about what he had done to her in that room. Reliving that orgasm was all she wanted to do. Dreaming of what else he might have done to her quickly followed. Soon she was fidgety, her body alive and craving his touch. Damn him, she had wanted more—needed more.
Her last thought was of him, looming over her, his mismatched eyes glowing with excitement, his heavy cock lying against her thigh . . . when he lowered his head to her breasts she saw the side of his face, heard the deep, velvety rumble of his voice against her skin and realized, as the moment of sleep washed over her, that her dream lover had at last arrived . . .
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Slipping through the holes of the crate, Bran hobbled to the edge of the counter and jumped down. He was too weak to shift into a man, his wing too damaged and his magical stores depleted. Thank the goddess Mairi hadn’t possessed an iron cage, otherwise he’d be confined for the night. Iron was deadly to the Sidhe, and he wouldn’t have been able to risk touching it.
Mairi . . . He glanced at her restless body sprawled out on the couch. How had she found him? He couldn’t fathom it, and finally didn’t try to understand. A part of him already knew why she had.
They shared something. Something he had never once before experienced, and it wasn’t only sexual attraction. He couldn’t explain it, but felt it coursing along his body. Even as she had tended his wing he’d felt her energy pulsing through his feathers, down the bone and into his blood. Her careful caresses had been the furthest thing from sexual, yet he’d felt his body come to life as though he were taking her inside him. His people had a term for that kind of magical bond: Chosen Fate. A lover, a destiny, that the universe had created solely for one person. Bran had only ever known one person lucky enough to have found his Chosen Fate, and that was Daegan.
But Mairi couldn’t be his. His curse wouldn’t allow it. Which made him wonder, if she wasn’t to be his in that way, what was she?
He decided not to think about that, and instead chose to make his own search of the apartment. Someone had been here. He smelled it, a different scent from Rowan and Mairi. Yet the dog, Clancy, had not perceived the intruder. Which made Bran wonder if he was dealing with something immortal. But who?
Suriel. The bastard’s name was cropping up all over tonight.
With a glance, Bran summoned the dog. Clancy dragged himself up from his arthritic haunches, his nails clicking on the tiles. Lowering his head, he allowed Bran to climb on, then down his back.
“Show me around,” he ordered and Clancy obeyed. It hadn’t been easy to get the beast to come to heel. He�
�d been highly protective of Mairi, and while Bran respected that, even welcomed it, he could not allow the dog any sort of dominance while he was in his raven’s form. Especially a raven with a mangled wing.
In the end they had come to an understanding. Bran would not hurt Mairi and Clancy would not eat him.
Meandering around the apartment atop Clancy’s back allowed Bran to look out every window and ensure they were all locked. He could see everything, every dust mote and cobweb. Nothing had been disturbed. But the strange scent still lingered.
“Take me to the bedroom.” The clicking of nails on hardwood made Mairi stir. Clancy stilled, looking over his shoulder at his mistress. When she didn’t wake, he continued on into Mairi’s bedroom.
Hopping off Clancy’s back, Bran landed on the soft mattress. The sheets were cool and crisp and smelled of Mairi’s shampoo and her supple skin. He couldn’t resist smelling them, remembering the feel of her soft thigh grazing his chin, the scent of her deep in his nose. He had only just begun with her when Rhys had interrupted them.
Damn Morgan and her fucking hellhounds!
Bran hopped quietly forward. Rowan was sleeping heavily, dressed in a white T-shirt. Sweat stains ran down from her neck and between her breasts, plastering the cotton to her drenched skin.
Pressing forward, he ran the tip of his good wing over her brow and closed his eyes. His hand sigils, which were hidden beneath the feathers of his wing, absorbed the salt and minerals. He felt her illness penetrate through his body, and knew it was as Mairi had said. Rowan was ill. Deathly ill, and tonight she had a fever.
He came closer to her, studying her, wondering how she could know of the hellhounds. He thought of what she had said, wondering what key she could mean. Most important, he recalled Keir saying Rowan was not completely human. That more than anything had shaken him. If she was not mortal, then what was she?
As king of Annwyn he had a duty to protect its inhabitants, and if, like Rhys, Rowan was at least part immortal, then it was up to him to make certain she was safe. He needed to identify her other half; maybe then he could heal her. There were many species living in Annwyn, many healers who might be able to help.
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