Something more horrifying.
Nora, lying still in the backyard, eyes sightlessly focused on a deep blue sky. Eileen, kneeling beside her mother, wailing in grief and fear.
Maggie’s tears slid down her cheeks as the nightmares gripped her. Her panic was real, her heartbeat pounding in her chest. She knew that if she could only wake up, everything would be all right, but she couldn’t find her way out of the dream.
Suddenly the images changed again, and a different future showed itself.
Nora, happy, with a baby in the curve of her arm as she smiled down at Eileen.
A bustling city where humanity went blithely on its way, completely oblivious to any threat from the world of Fae.
Finally Culhane, smiling at Maggie as he pulled her down atop his naked body and buried himself deep inside her. She could feel him. His skin. His strength. The invasion of his body into hers, and she quivered on the brink of release, knowing that it would be more fulfilling, more spectacular than anything she could have imagined.
Her body arched; her head fell back; Culhane called her name—
And she woke up.
“What the hell?” Bolting upright in her bed, Maggie gasped for breath and looked blindly about the room. The nightmares had already bled away, leaving only that last, lingering image in her mind. Culhane.
It always came back to Culhane.
She could still feel his hands on her. Feel her climax trembling just out of reach. “How is it fair that I wake up just before the good part?”
Shaking, she pushed her hair out of her face, tried to stop thinking about the fact that her body was still humming and concentrate instead on her family. Yes, the nightmares were vicious and terrifying, but they were only nightmares.
Eileen and Nora were safe. Maggie knew it. Felt it. Besides, no way would she even consider another possibility.
She swung her legs off the side of the bed, walked across the quiet, shadow-filled room to the open window and stared out at the night. Clouds moved silently across the sky, like ghost ships sailing across a black sea, making the stars seem to wink in and out of existence. The quiet was overwhelming, broken only by Sheba’s whine as she slept.
It was as if she were alone in the world. She didn’t like it.
Glancing over her shoulder at the empty bed behind her, she ached for Culhane.
“Just dreams. That’s all.” Saying it sort of helped, but she still felt confused and scared, and so damned sexually frustrated she wished heartily for that shower massager she’d been planning to buy.
But even as she thought it, she knew that wasn’t true either. She didn’t want just an orgasm.
She wanted a Culhane-driven orgasm.
Despite the fact that the man had lied to her, ordered her around and kidnapped her family, she wanted him so badly she could hardly draw a breath.
“Maggie, you are such an idiot,” she whispered. “You can bet Culhane’s not lying in bed dreaming about you. So get over it. Get past it. Just do what you’re supposed to do so you can finish this and forget all about Faery warriors with pale green eyes.”
She sighed and leaned her forehead against the cold window glass. “Yeah. That’s gonna happen.”
By morning Maggie had pushed the memories of her dreams and nightmares into a tiny corner of her mind, then barred and locked the door behind them. She got Sheba fed, Eileen reassured about her mom’s safety, then off to school, and was halfway through her second painting job of the morning before the next disaster struck.
If she did say so herself, the Bank of Castle Bay was looking damn good. She had wreaths on the double doors, and pine boughs dripping with ornaments decorating every window. She’d painted a layer of snow across the bottoms of the windows, and was just going back in to add candles when she heard the voice come from directly behind her.
“I’ve come for the power.”
“Damn it.” Maggie tensed, every bone and muscle and nerve in her body on red alert.
Rather than turning around, she stared into the window glass and caught the reflection of an older woman standing behind her. About fiftyish, the woman had short, stylishly cut white hair, sharp blue eyes and was dressed in one of those elegantly styled business-type suits.
Okay, not what she was expecting.
Then Maggie focused on the red lights flashing in the eyes of the “woman.” Definitely demon.
She turned around carefully, still holding her jar of lemon yellow paint in one hand and a thick sable brush in the other. Running her gaze up and down the woman, Maggie said, “You’re not exactly dressed for fighting.”
“Oh,” the demon woman said, idly checking her—let’s face it—great manicure, “this shouldn’t take long.”
“Okeydokey, then.” Maggie glanced at the street, crowded with shoppers and cars idling while waiting for a parking spot to open. “I’m guessing we don’t do this here.”
“No, I think not.” She smoothed the tip of her finger over her eyebrow and glanced toward an alley. “We should step in there. I wouldn’t want anyone to watch me kill you and get the wrong idea. I’m meeting a friend for lunch at the diner in twenty minutes and don’t have time to waste making up explanations.”
“Good plan.” Maggie’s mind was racing, and she had half a mind just to stand where she was. Clearly the woman wouldn’t risk a confrontation in front of witnesses, so if Maggie just stayed put she’d have nothing to worry about. On the other hand, a voice in her head whispered, if you don’t fight her here, she’ll only show up somewhere else. Maybe at home. Nope, couldn’t have that.
Besides, if she were going to have to fight demons and, oh, say, a Faery queen, she might as well get used to it. Waving one hand out in front of her, Maggie said, “After you.”
“Well, thank you. Courtesy is really a lost art these days, don’t you think?” The woman minced her way into the alley with tiny steps, moving carefully to avoid getting any grime on her spectacular taupe heels. “I remember when people actually said hello on the streets. Or held doors for you.” She glanced over her shoulder at Maggie and kept walking. “Good manners don’t cost a cent, you know.”
Hmm. Emily Post for the demon set.
The alley was shadowed and smelled of rotting garbage and something else Maggie would just as soon not identify. Puddles of dark liquid ran down the length of the narrow passage, and she made a mental note not to fall down.
“This is just awful,” the woman said, turning to face Maggie. “Someone should call the city.”
“I’ll get right on it.”
“Oh, not at the moment, dear. I really think you should just save yourself the pain and give me the powers now. I’ve got my receptacle right here.” She lifted one arm to show Maggie a gold charm bracelet with a dangling gold ornament. When she flicked the clasp the bauble opened, ready and waiting to accept all Faery dust.
“I don’t think so. I’m going to be needing it, and besides, it’s mine.”
“Only because you killed Theodora,” the woman said, wagging a finger and tsking at her. “And really, Dora’s mate is just furious with you. Trust me when I say that surrendering your power to me is by far the better choice for you.”
Maggie sniffed and wrinkled her nose. “If it’s you or Dora’s husband taking the power, I’m still dead.”
“Well, yes. But I’ll be quick. He won’t be.”
Her stomach doing a quick spin, Maggie swallowed back the fear clawing its way into life inside her. She hadn’t asked for any of this, but here it was. The woman across from her, who could have been any well-dressed Junior Leaguer type, made a fast move and lunged at Maggie, those beautifully manicured nails up and aimed like ten sharp knives at her face.
“Hey! A little warning!” Maggie ducked beneath the woman’s claws and sprang up a couple of feet away.
“Why would I warn you, you stupid bitch? I’m trying to kill you.”
“Good manners?”
The demon grinned, and just for a second her human disguise f
ell away to reveal a dark complexion riddled with scars and open sores. Then her mask was back in place and she leaped again, this time trying to hook one arm around Maggie’s neck.
Moving just as quickly, Maggie spun around, swung one leg out and knocked the demon to the ground. The woman shrieked, and Maggie wasn’t sure if it was because she’d been thrown or because she’d landed in the muck. Didn’t really matter, she told herself, taking a deep breath, preparing to blow a stream of Faery dust at the woman’s eyes.
“Oh, no, you don’t. I want the dust, but I’ll take it my way.” Pushing Maggie over, the woman jumped on top of her, straddling Maggie’s midsection. One hand held the bauble up close to Maggie’s mouth; the other wrapped around her throat. “Now, as you die, the dust will fill the receptacle, and it’ll all be over.”
Her vision blurring at the edges, Maggie struggled for air that wouldn’t come. The old demon woman was going to take her, and how embarrassing was that? She was going to die in an alley and never see her family or Culhane again. The male Fae would still be slaves, and her world would be up for grabs.
All because Maggie was a lousy fighter.
“You see? I promised you it would be quick.”
Too furious to be scared anymore, Maggie grabbed the demon’s hand and ripped it off her throat. Lurching fast to one side, she tossed her opponent into a pile of cardboard boxes, then jumped to her feet. “You almost had me,” Maggie told her, rubbing her sore throat as if strong fingers were still clasped around it.
“I do have you.” Crawling out from the mess, the woman tugged her skirt down to her knees and stood up, a piece of rotting lettuce stuck to the top of her head like a dark green hat. “You’re nothing.”
Maggie stabbed a finger at her, and a lightning bolt shot across the alley, lighting up the shadows with a pearly blue glow just before it slammed into the woman. She shrieked again and slapped at the flames eating away at her jacket.
“You bitch!”
“I’m not finished.” Another bolt, and another, blue flashes erupting in the shadows, slamming into the demon again and again. She couldn’t keep up with the flames, couldn’t stop them.
Maggie ran at the woman, letting her rage, her frustration, bubble up and over. Fear was gone, and in its place was a steely determination. She was through running from her “destiny.” She’d use what she’d learned and then learn even more. She’d take out demons who tried to kill her, and she’d fight the stupid Faery queen and win, damn it.
Her punches were solid, her kicks magnificent, and in a few minutes it was all over, and what was left of the snotty demon was blowing away down the alley, coating the trash with a sooty residue.
Brushing her hands together, Maggie left the alley to go back to work. “You know, she was right. I think I will call the city. Tell them to take out the trash.”
“Where have you been?”
In the palace of Otherworld Culhane bowed deeply, then straightened and looked into the eyes of his queen. Mab stalked a wide circle around her throne, casting withering glances toward him.
She was tall, lithe and beautiful. Her long golden hair hung like a thick, rich cape down to the middle of her back. Her features were delicate, but her dark green eyes were shrewd as she fixed them on her warrior.
“As always,” he told her, “I train with my brothers.”
The throne room was enormous, with crystal walls gleaming with a soft inner light. The windows were wide and always open so that Mab could take flight whenever she wished. They were warded, though, to prevent any other Fae from slipping inside unnoticed.
The great room had been built specifically for the parties and celebrations Mab had once been known for. But that time was long past. She no longer trusted her subjects enough to allow them easy access to the palace. To her. Now this room, like the rest of the crystal stronghold, lay empty but for the queen and a handful of trusted servants.
Culhane remembered long-ago days when he’d been honored to serve his queen. When he’d taken his place in this room, stood with his brother warriors and proudly watched over the Fae she ruled. His loyalty then had been unquestioning, his duty clear.
And so it was now, though the object of that duty, that loyalty, had changed.
Mab sat down on the sculpted silver throne. Her long fingers caressed the polished round gems that decorated the elaborate chair. Light flashed off the silver, shimmered in the hearts of the rubies, sapphires and emeralds. Mab’s mouth pursed as she studied him and slowly crossed her legs. “Ah, but it’s not only warrior training that’s kept you away from me this long, is it?”
“My queen?” Centuries ago Culhane might have been on edge having this private, personal interview. Having Mab’s complete attention. But he was accustomed to the politics of the palace now, and that knowledge had never served Culhane better than at that moment. His features were blank, his gaze holding only his question to her.
Hopping up from the throne again, as if she couldn’t bear to sit still, Mab took the three steps to the marble floor and crossed the room to him. Her shoes, with their needle-thin heels, tapped against the floor like nervous fingers on a tabletop. Standing before him, she locked her gaze with his as if trying to read his thoughts.
He was thankful that even Mab couldn’t accomplish that particular task. Her face looked as though it had been carved from ice: pale, hard, cold. Culhane had been in service to his queen long enough to know that she was in a dangerous mood.
“You’ve been in the mortal world.”
“As I am wont to do,” he agreed. “It pays to always know what is happening in the other planes.”
“You’ve been spending much time there,” she mused, walking in a slow circle around him, her heels clicking, clicking. She lifted one hand and dragged it across his shoulder blades. Culhane stayed perfectly still. “A curious queen would wonder why.”
“My queen is more clever than that,” he said easily, as she came around his right side to stop in front of him again. Flattering Mab was always a good idea. Culhane noticed her eyes shining with the compliment he’d paid her, even as suspicion remained. “My queen understands that as a Fae warrior, it is only my duty to keep track of possible problems.”
“And have you found some that I should know about?”
“None.” He inclined his head slightly on the lie. “I would, of course, tell you immediately were that the case.”
“Of course.”
Mab studied him for another moment or two, then turned and walked from him to a bank of windows that overlooked the palace gardens. Through the open windows the heady scents of roses and lupine and a dozen other types of flowers rushed in. From a distance came the sounds of laughter and the faint musical lilt of pipes.
“There is word of a demon feud in the mortal world,” Mab said softly.
“Is there?”
She didn’t look at him, only kept her gaze fixed on the scene beyond the glass. “It appears a demon was killed and the power of the Fae it held stolen.”
“I will look into it myself,” he promised with another bow. How had word reached her already? Who did Mab have on the other side watching, collecting information? And why hadn’t she come to him for that chore? Was it possible she already suspected him of treachery?
No, he told himself, even as his features remained calm, unconcerned. Mab was not a queen known for her generosity of spirit. If she had even a hint that Culhane was no longer her man, then she would have dealt with him already.
Finally the queen turned from the window, walked back to him and linked her arm through the curve of his. “Yes, Culhane. I think that would be wise. Go back to the mortal world. Find out who killed the demon, who took the Faery dust, and return it to me.”
“And if another has already merged with the dust?”
She shrugged as they walked from the throne room into the wide, empty, glittering hall. “Kill whoever it is, collect the dust and bring it to me.”
“Yes, my queen.”
Chapter Thirteen
Faery time might be flying past, but in Maggie’s little corner of the world the days were dragging. While Nora was off somewhere being a hostage, Maggie was trying to soothe her niece, take care of day-to-day stuff—painting, shopping, oh, and in her spare time training to kill ugly-ass demons. The usual.
“If you don’t move your butt faster than that, you’re gonna lose it.” Bezel stalked a circle around her in the backyard, glowering at her from under beetling brows. It was as if he were trying to make himself even uglier than usual.
“In case you hadn’t noticed . . .” Maggie paused for air and briefly held up a hand to indicate that she’d get back to him in a minute. Bending in half, she set both hands on her knees and took long pulls of sweet mother oxygen. She still felt like she was dying, but at least she had enough air to snap at Bezel, “I am moving my ass, you little troll.”
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