The Mortal Falls

by Anna Durand

  Clapping the door shut, I planted my hands on my hips, fingers tapping. "Poof in right in front of my parents? I told you not to do that."

  "No, darlin', ye didn't."

  He smirked with a mixture of affectionate humor and sarcasm, which made me want to kick him. And kiss him. And kick him again.

  Maybe I hadn't actually told him. The past few days had become a mental blur.

  "Besides, your family seems quite fine with my preferred mode of travel. In fact, they seem fine with magic in general." He rubbed his chin between his thumb and forefinger. "Why does it vex you?"

  "Because it's — " I flapped my arms, as if I might pump rational thoughts into my brain. Didn't work. I threw my head back, letting my arms flop down. "Unh."

  "Unh?" Nevan repeated my noise with a tinkle of amusement. "You'll have to be more articulate if you expect me to understand."

  Head bent back, I let a crack in a ceiling tile absorb my focus. Thinking was too damn hard. I didn't notice Nevan coming closer until his lips brushed my throat, just below my jaw. His breaths excited my skin, unfurling tendrils of desire through my body.

  "Never have I seen another mortal who contains as much stress inside as you do." His voice was sultry, his lips warm and soft, feathering across my skin in delicious little kisses. "Shall I relax you?"

  He stole my breath with an open-mouth kiss on my pulse point, nipping and licking, his soft groan vibrating my flesh. I resisted leaning into him for as long as I could — about two seconds. "We have a deadline, remember?"

  "All the more reason to let me give you pleasure."

  "Thanks, but no." My body screamed yes, yes, yes.

  Trailing his lips across my cheek, he took hold of my hips and rocked me into him. "Are ye certain?"

  "Uh-huh." Maybe.

  One of his large hands wandered to the small of my back, while the other cradled the back of my head, slanting it forward until our gazes converged. "You don't sound certain."

  "My parents are right outside."

  His fingers massaged my scalp, slow and sensual. Oh good heavens. He really did have a talent for melting me. "You're saying you would let me do this, if we were elsewhere."

  Aw hell. Why bother lying anymore? "Yes."

  The hand on my back skated up and over to my side, just under my breast, and with his thumb he traced the band of my bra. I barely suppressed a moan as he rumbled, "Ahhh… There is hope then."

  But why was he seducing here and now? We were about to embark on Operation Destroy a Vengeful Godlike Being, which might well result in both of us being "disassembled." I couldn't fathom the impetus for his behavior, for his need to show me pleasure before we took off on a dangerous mission.

  Ohhhh no. I did understand.

  And the lovely fog of lust evaporated in an instant. "You think we're going to die, don't you? That's the real reason for the porn show. You're saying goodbye."

  The stark sadness in his eyes told me everything I needed to know. He backed away.

  Robbed of his touch, of his hands and lips and breaths on my skin, I ached in ways I hadn't known I could.

  "We still have no plan," I said. "Other than going to the world of don't trust anyone, never say please or thank you, and try not to accidentally bargain your way into enslavement."

  "I can think of nothing else to do." The starkness had infected his voice, but he kept his gaze squarely on me. "I will go alone. You will cross the boundary where you will be safe."

  "Like I told you before, I am not hiding," I said. "We go together. Got it?"

  He nodded, looking as defeated as anyone I'd ever seen. With his usual whiplash-inducing speed, he switched back into Aloof Nevan mode. Glancing around the room, he asked, "Was there a reason you brought me in here?"

  "Of course." Good. I could focus on this instead of impending horrific death. I cleared my throat. "I want to tell my parents everything, which means telling them about you. What you can do. What you are."

  "Do as you must."

  "You don't mind?"

  "No, but you clearly do."

  I chewed on that for a moment before heaving out a sigh. "Might as well get this over with. Let me do the talking, okay?"

  He shrugged, but the tightness around his eyes belied his nonchalance.

  Pushing the door open, he swept his hand in a grand gesture for me to exit first. As we emerged into the living area, he kept one hand on the small of my back. Although my parents hadn't moved, Ash was skipping up and down the aisle. He stopped when he saw me and bounced on his heels.

  Nevan lingered a pace behind me. His hand on my back comforted me more than I would've expected and I leaned a fraction into the contact, grateful for his warmth.

  I drew a fortifying breath and looked at my family. "I'm sure you've noticed some strange things happening around here lately. Inexplicable things."

  Ash had ceased bouncing. All three of them nodded, solemn and silent.

  "Well, here goes."

  I launched into a recap of the past few days, of my discovery of the body and of Nevan's first appearance, of the corpse vanishing and Nevan reappearing to corroborate my story for Travis. The raven stalking me. The leprechaun. The resurrection. Skeiron and the roof collapse and poor Brad's second demise and the Janusite and the deadline looming ahead of us. I left out Nevan's gentle seductions and the details of his "duty," though I told them he'd been tasked with finding the Janusite.

  When I finished, my dad said, "Lindsey, you're in a pickle for sure."

  I almost laughed. Almost.

  He glanced at Nevan, then me. "How can we help?"

  "Get the hell out of here." I felt Nevan inch closer, his hand drifting down to grasp my hip. I settled my hand over his. "I can't worry about you while we're off in another world searching for answers. Please, drive as far away from here as you can get."

  My parents rose, Dad looping a protective arm around Mom's shoulders. "We'll leave, but we won't go too far. Our baby's in trouble and Porters don't run out on family."

  Nevan whispered in my ear, "The boundary."

  Oh. Duh. "Just promise me you'll stay at least one mile away from the shop."

  Dad's brow crinkled, but soon realization smoothed it out. "You mean stay outside this invisible line you mentioned. The one the whatsits can't cross."

  "Right."

  "And water," Nevan said. "Lakes, rivers, ponds, streams, waterfalls. Any naturally occurring bodies of water may provide an avenue for a portal to open. Each his its own boundary."

  First I'd heard about that. "Yeah, like Nevan says, stay a mile away from water."

  "Kind of hard to do," Dad said. "This place is full of hidden waterfalls and streams."

  "We'll do our best," Mom said to me. "Don't worry, sweetie."

  Relief rushed through me, leaving me a bit weak. Jeez, I was massively tense, like Nevan said. "Be careful."

  My mother broke free of Dad's embrace to march straight up to Nevan. Her neck craned back to meet his gaze, she aimed her sternest mother's look at him. "You better keep her safe, son. If anything happens to my daughter, I'm coming after you with every weapon in my arsenal. And believe me, I've got plenty of ammo."

  Nevan wore a grave expression as he told her, "Your daughter's life means more to me than my own, Mrs. Porter. I shall protect her at any cost."

  With a smile, my mother raised onto her toes to peck another kiss on Nevan's cheek. "Good boy."

  She returned to Dad's side, taking his hand.

  Ash stood somberly beside them. "Are you gonna come back, Zee?"

  I knelt before him to level our eyes and gave him my best brave smile. "Of course I am. Don't think I'd let you eat all the chocolate pudding, do you?"

  He shook his head, eyes glistening with unshed tears.

  I tousled his hair and tried to sound casual.
"See you later, brat."

  Turning away from my family, I marched straight to Nevan. My eyes burned and my lips trembled. Nausea roiled in my stomach. If I died, at least my family would be safe outside the boundary.

  Nevan enfolded me in his arms, his chin on the crown of my head, and spirited us away.

  19

  We reappeared inside the healing vortex, the onrushing gloom of night turning the woods into a haunted forest from a Grimm fairytale. Shadows slashed across the stone benches, speckled with wan sunlight that dimmed with every passing second. Nevan kept his arms around me, holding me close. My holster must've poked into him, since it poked into me, but he gave no indication of noticing. The old stoic mask had shuttered his features.

  He swallowed visibly, the solitary sign of emotion.

  No, not the only sign. The way he held me, as if I might float away if he loosened his grip, it told me more than any words. I was damn glad he'd retrieved my derringer for me. If he was scared…

  I looked up at the darkened treetops swaying in a wind I couldn't feel, shielded by the woods around us. "Why'd you bring us here instead of closer to the falls? We are in a hurry."

  His hesitation spurred me to look at him. Though his expression betrayed nothing, his eyes were shot through with cold, pure white. "I — tried to take us there. Something prevented it."

  The cold fear in his eyes seemed to rush through our touching skin straight into my veins. "Something? Do you think Skeiron… "

  I couldn't finish the thought, praying he'd refute it until he decimated that hope with his next words.

  "Most likely." He shut his eyes briefly and I swore his heated skin cooled a few degrees. "I sense a magical barrier walling off the falls and its vicinity. We cannot reach the portal."

  "What do we do?"

  He pressed a kiss to my forehead, his lips lingering there as he spoke. "Skeiron waits inside the barrier. For me."

  "For us." I tipped my head back until I could see his eyes. "I'm with you. Whatever happens."

  I couldn't have torn my gaze from his if I'd wanted to, but I had no inclination to sever the connection. Not for anything.

  "The clock is ticking," he whispered. "Go outside the boundary. Please."

  "I won't leave you to fight Skeiron alone."

  Without another word, he clamped his hand around mine and half dragged me down the path toward the falls. The healing vortex receded behind us, devoured by the woods. His bare feet slapped and my boots clomped on the dirt path, a dark river ferrying us through the trees. We traveled at a brisk walk, verging on a run, with Nevan a stiff and almost robotic guide, his expression stern, his eyes focused on what lay straight ahead.

  My anxiety ratcheted higher with every step, triggering a flood of adrenaline that burned in my veins and heightened my senses. Wings flapped overhead, but I didn't dare glance up, not with Nevan urging me onward at a merciless pace. The winged visitor would be Brennus, tracking us for his master.

  I couldn't be the Janusite. I'd never mattered that much to the world — any world.

  Nevan pulled us up short at the clearing beside the waterfall. His eyes flashed crimson and steely silver in the twilight, a muscle jumped in his jaw, and those massive shoulders rolled back in readiness for a fight.

  He dropped my hand.

  My throat went dry and tight. "Skeiron's here, isn't he?"

  "Yes."

  Wind gusted through the treetops, rattling branches and raining leaves down on us. As the greenery fluttered to the earth around us, bits catching in our hair and on our bodies, the ground beneath us quivered. A gale ripped through the clearing, and borne on the tempest, a voice deep and resonant roared.

  Nevan yanked me to him, his arms steel bars around my back.

  The gale blustered around us in whirling eddies. I strained to see Nevan through the ropes of my own hair lashing my face.

  The wind ceased. One second blasting us, the next dead calm.

  I tipped my face up to Nevan, praying he had an answer, knowing there was no magic solution this time. "I'm sorry, love. I can't take us away from here. He strengthened the magical barrier around this area to stop either of us from leaving. He banked on you coming with me."

  "It's not your fault. We had no choice, Nevan."

  "Where the blame rests hardly matters." He pulled his hand free and backed up two steps. With a flourish of his hand, he conjured an object.

  I blinked repeatedly, sure I must be hallucinating. But it was real.

  Nevan grasped a sword — long, thick, fashioned from polished, silvery metal laced with bronze. The grip was sheathed in leather, the hilt carved with ornate spiral designs. He lifted the weapon and the ambient light glinted on its blade.

  "Listen carefully," he said, holding the sword at his side, blade down. "Skeiron will show himself any moment, once he's done menacing us. He will attempt to take you, but I will not allow it. I must fight him. He has an endued sword, which means I will die, but I'll make certain he goes with me."

  I snaked a hand under my shirt, closing it around the butt of my gun.

  "You are correct, guardian, on one point."

  The voice boomed from across the clearing. Nevan and I turned as one to face the being at the edge of the pool, positioned between us and the falls.

  Skeiron sneered at us, his onyx eyes seething with vile green and orange. He wielded a sword too, one forged from obsidian metal shot through with indigo. In lieu of his white robe, kilt of dark gold swathed his hips and thighs. The fabric hung low, slightly askew, exposing the top edge of his hip bones. His muscular chest rivaled Nevan's, his skin a darker shade of suntan, burnished with copper.

  Heat rippled through the air, carrying with it the odor of sulfur.

  "Would you care to know," Skeiron asked, "on which point you are correct?"

  Nevan glowered at his king, the fingers of his free hand twitching.

  "You will die, guardian," Skeiron said, "that is a certainty. But I shall not join you. The mortal wench will be mine."

  The bastard called me a wench?

  "If she is the one, I shall extract the power from her and discard the lifeless remnants of her pitiful — if enticing — human body. If she is not the one, I'll mine what pleasure I can from her and then slowly disassemble her mortal form."

  My nails bit into my palms as I fisted my hands tight. "Like hell you will, you psychotic son of a — "

  "Silence, wench!"

  Ohhh, I was damn sick of him calling me that. "Somebody needs to disassemble your ass."

  Nevan surged forward, sidestepping to block my view of the sylph king. Feet planted wide, he raised the sword. I swore I glimpsed a slight uptick of his lips.

  "We end this the old way," Nevan said. "With physical might."

  They launched into action, barreling toward each other, swords flashing. Their blades collided with an explosive clang that reverberated in the air and in my eardrums. I winced and clapped my hands over my ears to mute the crashing of their swords. Their movements came with such ferocious speed the scene turned into one big blur of motion. The clashing of metal on metal punctuated their grunts and shouts. Feet scuffled across earth, tore grass, uprooted weeds, kicked up clods of dirt.

  The battle held me transfixed, my body frozen, my breaths caught in my throat. I ought to help, somehow. What could a puny mortal wench do? I'd be shredded if I dived into the melee of super-speed swordplay. What was happening? Who was winning? I could hardly distinguish Nevan from Skeiron anymore.

  One of them flew backward across the clearing and slammed into a thick pine tree. The wet thwack of the impact echoed in the clearing.

  Nevan slumped to the ground, legs askew. The sword tumbled out of his hand. His breaths panted out of his gaping mouth and blood streamed from slashes on his face, arms, and chest.

  Skeiron had reopened the scar
over Nevan's heart.

  Between gasps, he shouted at Skeiron. "Using magic? You have no honor left, do you, Your Majesty?"

  Nevan transformed the word majesty into the worst insult.

  Skeiron's lips peeled back in a vicious grin, and in slow motion, his devil-bright eyes zeroed in on me.

  Nevan scrambled to rise, lost his balance, clawed at the tree for support.

  The king stormed toward me.

  I yanked out my derringer, fired both rounds straight into his chest, and flipped open the barrel to reload.

  Skeiron paused mid step, eying the wounds. He swept his hands down his chest as if brushing off insects, his eyes slitted, and rushed at me.

  I jammed the rounds into the barrel and snapped it shut, but I pulled the trigger too late. A single copper-sheened hand seized my throat, knocking my aim off target. The shot punctured a tree.

  Leaping to his feet, teetering for an unnerving second, Nevan snatched up his sword. "Release her."

  His command thundered like the voice of an ancient god.

  Skeiron strangled me. The gun popped out of my grasp. I gurgled, clawed at his hand, kicked at him, but he merely hoisted me off the ground and smiled at Nevan. Blackness licked at the edges of my vision. I battled for breath, lungs on fire, but my limbs stopped responding and my arms and legs went limp. The abyss beckoned me with sweet relief from the stabbing, searing agony. The blackness encroached further and further and —

  A force hurled me sideways. The vise around my neck popped free.

  I tumbled to the ground, wheezing. Brightness burst through the darkness in my vision. Ringing in my ears deafened me. I rubbed my throat, as the scene around me snapped into focus.

  Nevan and Skeiron wrestled on the ground a dozen feet away. Nevan's sword lay on the grass beside me, while Skeiron's was wedged against a sapling, sharp end up. Skeiron punched Nevan in the chest. Stunned, he gasped for air.

  The king pounced on the opening. He vaulted to his feet with supernatural agility and flung one hand out, fingers spread. His sword dislodged from the sapling, somersaulting through the air straight into his waiting palm. He flipped the sword vertical, blade down. Grasped it in both hands. Raised it over Nevan.