by Shona Husk
Stiff fingers dialed the numbers on Detective Griffin’s business card. But fear didn’t flood her veins and paralyze like venom the way she’d imagined. Fear fed her. It mixed with excitement, and rushed through her body like an electrical current until her skin buzzed. Her mind swam with possibilities.
She could pull the tablecloth from under Steve. One call could cost him his world. Or her, her freedom. But freedom hadn’t been hers to sacrifice in many years, and risking it was like visiting the high rollers club with a fake credit card and then winning.
Documents still in hand, she calmly told Detective Griffin everything from the first threat, to finding Steve in her house that morning, to his shock departure, and finding the papers that incriminated him. The words came easily without stumble. She’d had years to prepare them and only this one chance to use them. A grin formed as she spoke. One that made her cheeks ache. She hadn’t had a reason to smile since she’d accepted Steve’s ring and agreed to his demands.
By the time the police knocked on her door she was dressed and her hair was almost dry. Her cell phone had rung every couple of minutes until she’d turned it off.
Griffin greeted her and put the envelope in a bag, then arrested her as a suspect in the fraud investigation. His words flew around her ears but never landed. She nodded as if she understood what he was saying.
She looked guilty.
It was her name on the documents. Every fear that Steve had cultivated grew a little larger and a little closer as she sat in the back of the police car on her way to the Major Fraud Squad offices. Hands wrapped her stomach, squeezing and twisting until just breathing made her ill.
What if the documents were so well done she was convicted while Steve walked free? She rested her head on the glass and watched the streets slide past.
No.
She closed her eyes. She trusted Roan. She had to trust the police. She had to trust herself.
But without Roan, without him finding the documents, would she have had the courage to place the call? Or would she have kept silent? The knowledge of the crime chewed through each newfound happiness until her freedom was nothing more than an illusion bought with dirty money. This way she would be truly free, whatever the outcome.
She bit her lip and closed her eyes. If only breaking Roan’s curse was so easy.
Chapter 14
Dusk was easing its hands around the city, choking out the sun, when the police let Eliza walk free. She leaned against the station wall for support, comfortable to be held by its shadow while she waited for Amanda to come and collect her. Only one day had passed, yet it felt like she’d relived every day of the past five years. Every date, every argument, every word she’d ever spoken to Steve. Every answer videotaped as a suspect.
When the police were done toasting one side they’d flipped her over and started again, waiting for a crack to appear in her story. Always coming back to the one question she couldn’t answer truthfully:
How did she come to have the documents?
They were in her house.
Must have been Steve?
What else could she say? Later they’d turned off the tapes and interviewed her as a witness with all the details raked through again. The evidence would determine which interview the police used.
For the moment she was free but under investigation. And so was Gunn and Coulter. If Steve had drawn the company into his scandal, the firm would go down in a blaze of corruption. Her father would be suing from the grave.
Amanda parked and Eliza slid into the brilliant blue sedan. Loud rock pumped through the speakers. Only when Brigit wasn’t in the car did Amanda put her speakers to work. The rest of the time the music was little more than background noise.
“What is going on?” Amanda turned the music off. “Why was Steve arrested this morning?”
“Steve was arrested?” She’d relive today again just to hear that news again.
“You didn’t know? It’s been all over the news. I thought that was why you were at the station.” Amanda guided the car through the city clogged with office workers heading home.
Eliza shook her head. Of course the police would bring him in. They’d brought her in. At the moment it was all paperwork. She allowed herself a grim smile. Whatever she’d gone through, he’d gone through. And he had the guilty conscience.
“What for is still a mystery.” Amanda looked at her, one eyebrow raised, her eyes momentarily off the road.
“Fraud.” It didn’t feel like a victory. More like the announcement of war with the battles yet to be fought in the courts, in the news, and in the gossip magazines.
Amanda slapped the steering wheel. “I knew he couldn’t be trusted.”
Eliza rubbed her fingers into her temples. “Please. I don’t want to go through it again.” There would be plenty of time for that. Tonight she just wanted to sleep and dream and be with Roan. Tomorrow would come around soon enough, fists up ready to fight.
“I take it my name wasn’t mentioned in the news.”
“Only as the fiancée,” Amanda confirmed. She picked Eliza’s hand up. “Nice ring.” Her eyes darted from the black diamond to the road. “Never seen anything like it. Gift from a friend?”
Eliza snatched her hand back and folded them in her lap, hiding the ring that would never come off. How could she explain she was a goblin’s queen? That she’d fallen in love and was going to lose him to a two-thousand-year-old curse?
“Steve and I split this morning.” Even the timing of the breakup was suspicious. “That didn’t make the news?” she snapped, knowing Steve’s arrest had more impact with her name attached. No doubt the press had smelled blood and was moving in for the kill.
Memories of the media coverage after her mother’s death, Matt’s death, and then her father’s death came back to kick her in the guts. The news vans. The endless parade of reporters looking for the exclusive photos of the grieving family. The rumors that had circulated for months afterward about her being the most unlucky spoiled brat. Cursed one headline had run. They didn’t know the meaning of the word.
Amanda squeezed her hand. “I’ll help untangle the wedding preps.”
Eliza rolled her head back against the seat. She hadn’t thought that far ahead. With the wedding only days away she had to cancel. Once she did, another circus would ensue. She was sure Steve had pre-sold exclusive photos to a magazine.
The Shadowlands beckoned as an escape from the publicity that would poke and pry into every crevice of her life. Was it was too late to tell Roan she’d changed her mind and wanted to stay with him?
Amanda pulled onto her street. It was littered with vehicles, the detritus of the media industry chasing the next headline. They had the Coulter name firmly in their sights. Eliza readied herself for the onslaught. No one was taking over her life without a fight. She wouldn’t run and hide.
Amanda slowed. “Are you sure you want to stay here tonight?”
“It’s my house and I won’t be forced out of it by anyone.” Her mother had always handled the press with a smile and a thick pair of gloves. Her theatrical career had ensured the media was never far behind.
Never show fear, they can smell it, her mother had said.
“If you need anything…” Amanda pulled into the driveway, followed by a swarm of cameras right up to the property line. They wouldn’t dare trespass.
Eliza hugged her. “Keep Brigit away. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
She fixed a smile, dug out her keys, and walked toward the house without a backward glance. Amanda revved the engine and sped backward up the driveway, hand on horn. Eliza winced. While not in her mother’s guide to press relations, it was an excellent distraction.
Eliza locked the front door behind her. The press would have some nice photos of her back for tomorrow’s paper. Unlike her mother she was under no obligation to talk to the press. She turned off the alarm and then reset it in night mode. It beeped, marking the thirty seconds she had to get upstairs. The other pa
nel was in the main bedroom, a room she would never use again. She would have to call the security company in the morning and get a new panel set up in the guest room…and maybe while they were at it they could show her how to set a new code.
The dash was invigorating. She closed the door feeling lighter than she had in years, even though she’d opened Pandora’s Box. The truth was out and could never be put back. Silence swelled to fill the house. Deepened with each breath. One step at a time. One day at a time. One night at a time. She would survive.
Eliza stripped out of clothes that smelled like the police station. Steve’s corruption had infiltrated the fibers and tainted them. Instead, she pulled on bright yellow butterfly pajamas. The only person who had to like them was too exhausted to care. Never again would she wear a satin nightdress. Ever. For anyone.
She flopped onto the guest bed and closed her eyes. She should have showered first. Her limbs sank farther into the mattress. She should get up and eat something. She sighed. In a minute. She’d just lie down for a minute. Her eyes wouldn’t open. Exhaustion claimed her. Sleep pulled her down into its darkest depths.
Her dream suffocated her. She couldn’t pull away from the gentle grip that became clawed hands. Peace became panic. She couldn’t wake up and couldn’t break free. She fell out of the blackness and into gray.
She stood, dust clinging to her pajamas. She swiped at it and frowned. Gray. Around her the endless plains of the Shadowlands stretched.
This has to be a dream.
She pinched her arm with clammy fingers but didn’t wake. She let out a slow breath and surveyed the barren landscape. Only Roan had ever brought her here and taken her home. Without him could she get home?
In the distance, huge rocks speared the sky. Roan’s caves. It couldn’t be that far. Since she was unable to wake up or leave, there was only one thing to do—she would have to walk.
The ground was cold, like walking on gritty ice. She moved quickly just to keep her feet from freezing and sticking. The scenery didn’t change and the caves got no closer. The same twisted, blackened trees glowered from her left. Her breathing tightened and caught in her throat. She wasn’t moving. She was no closer to safety.
Then she ran.
Her bare feet kicked up puffs of dust. She panted, but the spire remained fixed in the distance. A speck in the twilight sky moved and grew larger…coming toward her. Eliza pushed harder. She had to reach the caves. The speck became a crow, circling high on a magical wind. It dropped and rushed toward her. She was in trouble.
The only crow in the Shadowlands was the druid who had cursed Roan. Was he expecting her to call for Roan? If she did, she could be luring him into a trap.
The giant crow flew straight at her. Head on, eye level. It cried out and her blood became water. Insubstantial in her veins. Her legs cramped. But she ran on, ducking as the crow took to the sky. The steady beat of its wings sounded behind her. Chasing. Sick certainty forced her on.
The crow swept close, the tips of his wings brushing her face. Eliza yanked out handfuls of glossy-black feathers. The crow attacked again, talons outstretched. This time it didn’t pull away. The wind beat against her skin while the bird bloodied its claws. Pain seared up her arm, down her back. Warmth spilled from the wounds she didn’t have time to stop and examine.
Her skin was no match for the flurry of beak and claws. Forced to her knees, she frantically groped around in the dust. She needed a weapon. A rock, a stick, anything. She wasn’t going to let an overgrown feather pillow kill her. Her fingers closed on something hard. She pulled it free of the dirt and lashed out. The impact jarred her arm and rattled her jaw. The crow tumbled through the air, then steadied. Its beady black eyes watching.
Eliza swung her weapon like a batter getting ready to hit a home run. When she saw what she held in her hands she almost dropped it. In her hands was a bone. The length of a thigh. Goblin or human? She forced herself to hold onto it instead of flinging it away. What had Roan said? Something about being one with the sword?
What else had he said? Something about the Shadowlands not being a dream. That if it were, she should be able to control it. She glanced at the bone that had conveniently appeared when she’d needed it. This was a dream…a dream the druid was trying to control with magic. The sneaky bastard. Did he know she’d been meeting Roan in her sleep?
The crow sensed her hesitation and swooped. She ducked and swung but didn’t connect with the bird. Blood streamed down her arms burning her skin. Could she die in a dream? Surely there shouldn’t be this much blood?
“What do you want, Elryion?” She needed to wake up. Instead of the cold of the Shadowlands she tried to imagine the warmth of her bed. She was in bed, sleeping. The Shadowlands shimmered as if the dream were breaking apart.
The crow flapped and cocked his head as if considering the woman who poured blood into the dust. Adrenaline pounded in her veins. Her pulse became the pulse of the Shadowlands. The ground jumped with each beat. Her legs weakened, threatening to send her sprawling into the red mud at her feet. The dust was slick with blood. Her blood.
Eliza stabbed the bone forward. “Shoo.”
The crow seemed to smile and nod. Then the landscape bounced and slid out of focus. Eliza blinked to clear her vision. The crow was gone along with the Shadowlands.
Her heart raced as she lay in the tangled sheets of her bed. The violent switch in realities had been missing. No lurching, spinning darkness. It had been nothing but a dream. A horrible, realistic dream, but she’d never left her bed. Her breathing slowed. She placed a hand over her heart thankful it hadn’t been real.
Her fingers were sticky-wet on her skin. Not slippery like sweat. Her heart gave a solid thump and seemed to stop. She raised her hand, but in the dark there were no colors to be seen. Her arms began to burn as if someone had laid a poker against her flesh. Without breathing she reached out and groped for the bedside light. The pale light glistened on the red that streaked her skin. Large spots blossomed where heavy drips fell on her pajamas. She was bleeding. Her heart picked a pace like that of a panicked rabbit.
How could a nightmare have ricocheted into reality?
She used the sheet to wipe at the blood, hoping to find untorn flesh beneath. Deep cuts appeared along the length of her arms and were swiftly filled and hidden. It wasn’t just her arms. She turned; where she had been lying streaks of blood patterned the white sheet. The calm she had been holding on to became brittle and shattered. She clamped her teeth together and held the sheet tightly over the most damaged arm. Blood soaked through too fast, escaping out of her artery with each beat of her heart. Her body was hot and prickly, but she shivered anyway.
She should call in the emergency.
Where was her cell phone?
There was too much blood. The edges of the room became fuzzy as it spun around her. The silence was full of buzzing. She was going to die. But if she called Roan, he’d die too. Or suffer a life worse than death. Her eyes closed. Roan. She held onto the dream of seeing Roan again in the Summerland.
Over the din of the attacking Hoard, Eliza’s thought swept past Roan. Faint, lacking her usual brilliance and desire. With the castle fortified, he left the battle and went to her, intending to be just a moment. She wasn’t in the Summerland like he expected. She was in the Fixed Realm. Dying.
Blood was everywhere. Her skin was ruddy with the smears. Roan pulled her to him, searching for the wound, her blood giving his fingers the only color they had ever known as a goblin. Bloodred on goblin-gray. Another promise broken, but he had to touch her to heal her. What he found was dozens of cuts. Some nothing more than a scratch, others tore deep into the flesh, slashing arteries and veins. He’d seen worse wounds on the battlefield, but his guts still rolled at seeing the woman he wanted to love hurt.
“Eliza.” He spun out the magic, healing the deepest of tears, slowing the flow of blood. What had happened? No one hid in the house. Eliza was alone. His gaze scanned the bed but there w
as no weapon that could cause these injuries and there were too many for it to be self-inflicted.
Her head rested against his chest as he scooped her up. He’d never wanted to cradle her with these hands. For a moment he didn’t know what to do with her. She needed more healing, and he had more power in the Shadowlands…and he didn’t want her to wake and see him like this. But his home was under siege by the Hoard.
His lips twisted. Eliza was safer with him than she was here. But Roan heard the lies he was telling himself. He would’ve used any excuse to bring Eliza back to the Shadowlands to be at his side. He needed his queen, and he wasn’t strong enough to leave her in the Fixed Realm. He stepped into the puddle of shadow made by the bed and crossed between realms. His caves were haunted with the ring of metal on rock and the screeching of goblin war cries. Eliza jerked in his arms and her eyes flickered open.
“You came.”
“Of course I did. You asked me to.” He would come whenever she called, not because he had to, but because he wanted to. He sat with her on his bed, her blood soaking into his clothes as magic seeped from him into her damaged flesh. “What happened?”
“The druid found me.” Her words were barely a whisper.
He shook his head. His fingers, moving against her skin. “That’s not possible. He can’t cross through.”
The druid wasn’t goblin. He was human and humans never left the Shadowlands. They couldn’t, because they couldn’t use people’s nightmares to pull themselves across the threshold. That didn’t mean the druid hadn’t been trying.
“In my sleep.” She closed her eyes.
Why was Elryion stalking Eliza? Surely he would know that Roan would never let his queen be killed.
“Stay with me, Eliza.”
Her eyelids fluttered, too wounded to obey.
Damn you, Elryion.
The druid had never intended to kill Eliza, just injure her enough that Roan was forced to use magic, or watch her die. A piece of his soul for her life. A trade he was happy to make, but he wanted some left to enjoy the bargain. He placed his hands over the cuts. As his finger traced each line the skin healed. Not perfectly, but enough to stop the blood loss. Perfect, scarless skin would use too much magic. They would both have to settle for near enough. A howl tore through the air, sounding closer than it was.