He moved aside, gesturing for her to walk ahead of him.
The next room was small, set up as an office. It was empty. She saw the exit to the left. Ren’s hand grasped her elbow as she opened the door and jumped over the two extended metal steps.
Ren stepped behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist.
“Um, what are you doing?”
“Taking you to see the Queen.”
Meckenzie fit snugly against him. God, he was muscular. To feel his strength envelop her, protect her—she wanted to crawl inside that feeling and stay there. She had known love, but never safety. And Ren made her feel safe.
“Hold on,” he whispered, his lips grazing her earlobe. Her stomach jolted at the light, sexy touch. She grabbed his arms tightly, not sure what to expect, but she was all in.
They shot up into the sky, higher and higher. The air temperature dropped, and cool wind rushed through them, ruffling hair and chilling skin. Flying. We’re flying. Meckenzie clutched Ren’s arms. She had seen—and done—some weird shit in her life. But shooting along the star-strewn sky in the arms of a beautiful devil? Not even she would’ve believed it possible. They slowed to stop, hovering several hundred feet above the ground. Meckenzie’s heart climbed into her throat and pounded there, a throb of fear and wonder.
“You will not fall,” he said. “I will not let you go.”
“Okay.” She swallowed the knot in her throat. “Why can you fly?”
“I am part sidhe.”
A fairy? She almost laughed. That would explain the Marchands’ ethereal beauty. When Meckenzie was a little girl, her mother had introduced her to a fairy—a beautiful woman with fiery red hair and forest-green eyes.
Her name was Brigid.
Below them stretched the small town of Broken Heart, Oklahoma. Nestled in a little valley surrounded by rolling green hills and pockets of dense forest, it was just a square of big and small buildings crisscrossed by streets. Other neighborhoods, with small houses and tiny lawns, dotted the outside of Broken Heart.
“We gonna stay up here all day?” She crooked her neck to look up at him.
His gaze glittered, and the left corner of his mouth quirked, but he said nothing.
She couldn’t get a bead on this guy.
“Broken Heart seems nice from this view,” she said. “I’ve never lived anywhere for long. You start liking a place and crap starts piling up. Too much to carry around.”
“What I need to carry,” he murmured, “I carry in my heart.”
Meckenzie wanted to tell him that those silly lines only worked in romantic comedies starring Sandra Bullock, but his sincerity could not be denied. And his words sounded so much like what her mother might say that she accepted them as truth.
He tilted his head in a manner that suggested he was listening to something in the distance. Ah. Vampire telepathy. She watched moonbeams dapple his handsome face. The lunar light shimmered in his gold eyes, and she felt her heart leap at their beauty. At his beauty.
He grimaced. “We must hurry.”
This time, guilt fluttered on razor wings, cutting at her.
Ren’s arms tightened around her—a warning or a comfort, she didn’t know. His gaze drifted over her face. “You are safe, Meckenzie.”
The hell I am.
And if Ena the Evil had her way, no one would be safe again.
* * *
VIRGINIA AND SOPHIE’S rapt attention made Trent uncomfortable. He’d eaten some toast, but the buttered bread sat like a lead weight in his stomach. He tugged on the collar of his T-shirt. Jeez. Why did it feel so tight all of a sudden? That’s when he realized his fingers were trembling. He flattened his palms against his thighs and cleared his throat.
Sophie had poured herself another cup of coffee, and Virginia was on her third piece of bacon. He blew out a breath. Okay. Here goes nothing.
“How much do you know about the Alberich?” he asked.
“They attacked werewolves a hundred years or so ago. They were defeated, and no one has seen them since,” offered Virginia.
“Until I found one,” added Sophie. “Or rather it found me.”
He nodded. “The Alberich were creations of Tyr—the Norse god of war. There was a wolf, a wolf like no other—and certainly not like us—who’d been prophesied to kill Odin. So, Tyr and others sought to bind this wolf. His name was Fenrisúlfr. The problem was that they couldn’t catch him. So Tyr took elf magic and created the Alberich—nearly unstoppable beasts that would track Fenrisúlfr.”
“The Alberich are elves?” Sophie looked skeptical.
“They were made with elf magic, but they are creatures right from Tyr’s imagination. Once they caught Fenrisúlfr, Tyr returned the Alberich to the earth. They were made with clay, you see, and should’ve dissolved entirely.”
“Why’d they pop up a hundred years ago?” asked Virginia.
“We don’t know why they rose again. Or even how they were released from was what supposed to be an eternal slumber. What we do know is that they were vicious, relentless, and harbored a deep hatred for all wolves. A dozen Alberich were able to ravage werewolf populations throughout Europe. They killed humans and other paranormals without mercy. They have no conscience and no concept of collateral damage.
“We researched every ancient text we could get our hands on, and eventually discovered a spell that could defeat the Alberich.” He paused. “The ability to destroy an Alberich could be given to one person, but the toll of such a power would consume and potentially kill the one named destroyer. That’s why there was a second part of the spell. Another person needed to accept the gift of healing. The healer absorbed the pain and suffering of the destroyer so that he or she could kill the Alberich.”
Trent saw Sophie make the connection, and the shocked look on her face opened a pit in his stomach.
“You’re the healer,” she said.
“Yes,” said Trent. “And you’re the destroyer.”
Chapter Ten
VIRGINIA AND SOPHIE’S rapt attention made Trent uncomfortable. He’d eaten some toast, but the buttered bread sat like a lead weight in his stomach. He tugged on the collar of his T-shirt. Jeez. Why did it feel so tight all of a sudden? That’s when he realized his fingers were trembling. He flattened his palms against his thighs and cleared his throat.
Sophie had poured herself another cup of coffee, and Virginia was on her third piece of bacon. He blew out a breath. Okay. Here goes nothing.
“How much do you know about the Alberich?” he asked.
“They attacked werewolves a hundred years or so ago. They were defeated, and no one has seen them since,” offered Virginia.
“Until I found one,” added Sophie. “Or rather it found me.”
He nodded. “The Alberich were creations of Tyr—the Norse god of war. There was a wolf, a wolf like no other—and certainly not like us—who’d been prophesied to kill Odin. So, Tyr and others sought to bind this wolf. His name was Fenrisúlfr. The problem was that they couldn’t catch him. So Tyr took elf magic and created the Alberich—nearly unstoppable beasts that would track Fenrisúlfr.”
“The Alberich are elves?” Sophie looked skeptical.
“They were made with elf magic, but they are creatures right from Tyr’s imagination. Once they caught Fenrisúlfr, Tyr returned the Alberich to the earth. They were made with clay, you see, and should’ve dissolved entirely.”
“Why’d they pop up a hundred years ago?” asked Virginia.
“We don’t know why they rose again. Or even how they were released from was what supposed to be an eternal slumber. What we do know is that they were vicious, relentless, and harbored a deep hatred for all wolves. A dozen Alberich were able to ravage werewolf populations throughout Europe. They killed humans and other paranormals without mercy. They have no conscience and no concept of collateral damage.
“Damian and his brothers researched every ancient text they could get their hands on, and eventually discovered a spell th
at could defeat the Alberich.” He paused. “The ability to destroy an Alberich could be given to one person, but the toll of such a power would consume and potentially kill the one named destroyer. That’s why there was a second part of the spell. Another person needed to accept the gift of healing. The healer absorbed the pain and suffering of the destroyer so that he or she could kill the Alberich.”
Trent saw Sophie make the connection, and the look on her face opened a pit in his stomach.
“You’re the healer,” she said.
“Yes,” said Trent. “And you’re the destroyer.”
* * *
“THANKS,” SAID MECKENZIE as she accepted the coffee from Queen Patricia Marchand. Its delicious taste settled her and made her feel human again. The queen leaned back on the couch they shared and looked at her. She was still assessing Meckenzie.
Am I worthy? Am I not? Questions she fought with daily.
They sat in a plush living room filled with warm colors—gold, bronze, dark green, the occasional splash of red. The bottom half of the walls were paneled with burnished cherry wood while the upper portions were painted dark yellow. The fireplace was cherry wood, blending into the paneled portions of the wall. It wasn’t in use, even though it was October. She supposed vampires didn’t get chilly.
“This is a gorgeous room,” Meckenzie said. “Those paintings … Monet?”
Patsy glanced at the paintings on either side of the fireplace. “Hell, if I know. Some hoity-toity interior designer came in and decorated the hell out of this place. Except for the rooms upstairs. Those were mine.” She grinned, flashing her fangs. “He said my taste in furniture was vulgar, my color schemes unrefined, and my lack of vision interfered with the flow he was trying to create for the house.”
“Where did you bury the body?”
The queen chuckled.
“Meckenzie,” said a familiar French-tinted voice. “We retrieved your car. It’s outside.” She put the cup on the table in front of her then stood up and turned. The person talking to her was not Ren though he looked nearly the same. “Is there a cloning plant around here?”
The man’s eyebrows shot up. “We are triplets. I am Gabriel Marchand. You’ve met my brother, Ren, and my sister, Anise.”
Ren had airlifted her to the front door of this house, newly constructed by the look and smell of it, and then took off—by bursting into a bunch of gold sparkles. Because apparently in Broken Heart that was normal. She’d taken the opportunity to remove the tiny vial filled with a single fairy wish from her jacket pocket, dumped out the contents, and said the words she knew she’d regret forever.
Gabriel rounded the couch and sat next to his wife. So, he was the lucky consort of the queen of lycans and vampires. He looked a lot like Ren, but there were subtle differences. She decided being bunched up together on the sofa with two powerful paranormal beings was a bad idea. So, she picked up her coffee and grabbed a chair to the left of the table. She sat down, pretending a casualness she sure as hell didn’t feel and sipped the coffee.
“Why do you need to see Brigid?” asked the queen.
“I didn’t realize you were her secretary.”
Her brows rose to her hairline. “I could pluck the answer from your mind,” said Patsy. “Or glamor you and make you tell me.”
“Sounds fun. Go ahead and try.”
She stared for a long moment then she laughed. “You’ve got some big ole lady balls, I’ll give you that.”
What had she been thinking, going straight into a nest of vampires and other parakind? She’d had no choice. Thanks, Ena, you evil bitch. Maybe if Brigid could help her, she could reverse what she’d done to fulfill her part of the bargain. Fix it somehow. She sipped and sipped because she didn’t want to talk. No, she didn’t want to lie.
Memories flashed. In the forest. The camper parked at a jaunty angle. Sitting on a worn log. Staring at the fire in the pit, enjoying the last of their dinner, laughing at old jokes. Shadows surrounding them…
“Run, baby! Run!” Her mother’s voice. Screaming. She took off. She was fast. Had always been fast. They broke off, chasing her, screeching. Then they dissipated, like smoke … then reformed to wiggle away into the forest. She circled around, returning to the campsite.
She would save her.
She would save her mother.
They danced, their warbling metallic cries tearing at her like claws. In the middle of their wavering shapes, she saw Mom. Collapsed next to the dying fire like a tossed rag doll, her throat had been ravaged. Her glassy eyes stared at nothing, her mouth open in a final silent scream … and her blood, bright as spilled rubies, flowing, flowing…
“Meckenzie?”
The French-tinted voice snapped to her mind into the present. She was breathing hard, tears gathering, and heart racing. Ren stood next to her chair staring down at her. Hmm. Was that concern lurking in his golden gaze? She couldn’t deal with more guilt, more regrets. She put her empty mug on the coffee table—on a coaster, of course. She wasn’t a complete heathen.“When did you get here?”
“Just now,” he muttered. He glanced at his brother and sister-in-law. “We think someone has infiltrated our borders.”
Mackenzie didn’t break eye contact. As vampires, they no doubt heard her increased heart rate and her slight intake of breath. Adrenaline started pumping, and she felt her hands curl into fists.
His expression went cold. “You let them in.”
She kept her gaze on Ren, but wouldn’t, couldn’t, answer.
His jaw clenched. “You do not deny that you allowed someone else into Broken Heart. This Ena perhaps?”
I didn’t have a choice. But she couldn’t say the words. Excuses, lies, justifications. Her gut clenched. She hadn’t much cared about the way she lived after her mom died. She’d been in survival mode. She wasn’t interested in forming relationships. Caring about people meant risking loss, and she was too much a coward to put her emotions on the line.
“Ena is the witch?” asked Patsy.
“I call her Ena the Evil. She pretty much sucks.”
Ren looked like he was trying to stare holes through her. “How did you do it?”
Meckenzie reached into her pocket, drew out the vial, and put it on the coffee table. “A fairy wish.” She licked her lips. “If it makes you feel better I only let one Alberich in.”
The silence fell like an ax.
“And did you intend to hand over Brigid, too?” The queen’s eyes flashed red.
“No. It’s why I need her. She can stop Ena.” Tears of frustration welled. “I’m trapped, damn it. If you would just tell me where she is we can end this whole thing and I’ll get out of your fur.”
“She’s not here. She’s a goddess and pretty much does whatever she wants. But I know someone who can get in touch with her, and I’ll contact him,” offered Patsy.
Meckenzie felt the tension emanating from Ren as well as from Patsy and Gabriel. She could almost taste their fury. It surrounded her, pummeled her. She deserved everything they’d throw at her. She had willingly placed herself at the town’s border. Maybe she could’ve walked away, or changed her mind but Ena had sent the shadows and made sure she’d followed through.
“I can’t have you wandering around Broken Heart causing a ruckus,” said Patsy.
The blood drained from my face. “Are you going to kill me?”
“It’s an option. Right now you’re getting locked up in our paranormal prison until we handle the situation with your bitchy witch and that werewolf-killing machine you let in. Then we’ll deal with you.”
She snagged Ren’s gaze. A muscle ticked in his jaw, and his gaze flashed with ire. He nodded slowly, his eyes narrowed. “I’ll take her.”
Meckenzie stood, resigned to her fate, and Ren clamped a hand on her shoulder. As they exited the house, she heard Queen Patsy say, “We need to get Sophie and Trent back here STAT. Call everyone. It’s all hands on deck.”
The chilled air hit them like a fist, an
d she sucked in a shocked breath. She’d forgotten how cold it was outside.
“Meckenzie. Betrayer!” screeched a familiar woman’s voice. She barely had time to register Ena’s pissed-off visage before the knife entered her left shoulder. The tiny blade lodged just below her collarbone. She wrenched it out. Pain whipped through her, but she gritted her teeth against the stinging waves.
“Ena,” she said, tossing the knife into the air and catching it by the handle. “You’re early.”
Ena’s black gaze burned with unholy light. She touched the tiny silver daggers lining the belt around her hips and smiled. Wow. Can you say evil bitch? She’d planned to kill Meckenzie all along.
Figured.
“You think I can’t destroy all of Broken Heart with just one Alberich?”
Nope. Hah. “Fuck you.”
Ena threw a second knife, and Ren jerked Meckenzie out of the way and leapt in front of her. Ena’s second blade clattered to the porch.
Meckenzie pressed her hand against the wound, hissing as acidic pain jolted through her. Terrific. Those daggers were poisoned. She dropped the blade and wondered how long the poison would take. Knowing Ena, it would be a long and painful death.
“What the holy fuck!” yelled Patsy as she marched outside, shoving Meckenzie and Ren out of the way. She lifted her hands and ropes of gold magic unleashed.
The ropes looped around Ena, but the witch only laughed.
“You’re dead, Meckenzie Braith. Dead!”
She easily shoved off the vampire queen’s magic, and then, in a puff of acrid smoke, Ena the Evil disappeared.
Chapter Eleven
SOPHIE STRUGGLED WITH the bombshell Trent had dropped. “How is that possible?” she asked. “What happened to the other destroyer?”
“My wife and I volunteered to be the weapon. We vanquished the Alberich, but it took a toll on us both. I survived, but Laura did not.”
Lycan on the Edge: Broken Heart Book 13 Page 8