War of Hearts

by S. Young

  Perhaps it was childish to slight Conall but seeing the muscle flex in his jaw every time she ignored a question and looked right through him was too satisfying to stop.

  She tried to concentrate on the fact that she was in Norway for the first time. Oslo was still cold in late April, so she’d changed in the cabin before they’d departed, putting a T-shirt on under her shirt for added warmth. She’d watched their approach to Oslo from the other side of the ferry, trying to ignore the ache in her chest.

  Dark green, snow-dusted islands sat within the gray waters of Oslofjord. Homes of all sizes dotted the islands and the coastline, houses made of timber with wooden shingles exactly like the houses along the New England coastline. These homes were brightly colored in reds and oranges and blues and greens—like little birds of paradise in amongst all the gray.

  Thea had shivered in the chilly, crisp, fresh morning and couldn’t remember the last time she’d taken in a lungful of such clean air.

  The city had morphed into a different personality than the one that greeted her on board the ferry. As she’d reluctantly reunited with Conall and he’d driven the SUV into the city, Oslo had become surprisingly commercial as they drove through a system of concrete tunnels and convoluted traffic circles. They passed glass buildings, stores, and tall hotels, but it all soon changed again as they moved out of the central roadway.

  The buildings aged, painted like the houses along the fjord in a variety of pretty colors. In the summer Oslo must be lush with green because they passed park after park, all the grass and trees still slightly brown and bare as they slowly woke up with the spring.

  Thea wished she was in Oslo alone, not chasing answers, and instead enjoying being somewhere where the air was so beautifully crisp and the buildings a remnant of a history she’d love to discover.

  “Are you ever going to speak to me again?” Conall asked.

  Lost in watching the city pass by, she’d almost forgotten how much he’d hurt her.

  Thea knew deep in her gut he hadn’t meant to. That it wasn’t a deliberate deception. But she was still angry at him for having never mentioned Sienna.

  However, it was jealousy and hurt that was truly ripping her up inside.

  Thea had never hated anyone but Ashforth, yet she was pretty sure she hated a woman she’d never met and who had done nothing wrong beyond agreeing to marry Conall.

  His fiancée.

  It made their inevitable separation so much more real.

  And he expected her to walk into his hometown and probably meet the werewolf he would spend the rest of his life with.

  Ah well, Thea told herself, it wasn’t like she and the Scot had a future, anyway. They’d both known that.

  Deciding churlishness was beneath her, she looked at Conall. “You trust this guy, right?”

  If it surprised him she’d spoken, he didn’t show it. “Aye, like I said, he’s a friend.”

  They’d barely been in the car fifteen minutes when Conall pulled off a main road onto a quiet street facing a park. Behind a row of prickly hedges and large trees were several small blocks of apartments, all architecturally different. Thea followed Conall out of the SUV and past parked cars before coming to a gated driveway with a sign on it.

  “This is it.”

  The driveway led to a large red-and-blond sandstone apartment building with a secure entrance. Conall reached for the door and then halted.

  He turned to look at Thea.

  Puzzled by the searching expression in his eyes, she shifted uncomfortably. “What?”

  “You were right.” His words were clipped, gruff even. “I shouldnae have kept Callie and James apart all this time.” He bent his head toward her. “I didnae understand that until now.”

  Thea’s breath caught.

  What did that mean?

  Was he trying to tell her he more than cared for her?

  That the short moments they’d shared were worth experiencing, even if he never got to have more time with her? Or was she reading what she wanted to read into his words?

  Her heart, even so used to pain, ached in a way it had never ached before. She broke his gaze. “Let’s just get this over with.”

  Ignoring the feel of his eyes burning into her, Thea pushed open the door with enough force to break the lock. “Which floor?”

  “The top. He owns the penthouse.” Conall fell into step beside her, his arm brushing hers. Perhaps it was childish, but Thea couldn’t withstand any closeness between them. She fell back. “Lead the way.”

  Conall sighed, taking the stairs first. “Will it be this way from now on, then?”

  Why was he pushing this? Why couldn’t he just let it go? “What way?”

  “I touch you.” He looked down at her as he took the next flight of stairs; his icy eyes burned with obvious anger. “And you pull away?”

  “Well, I’m not yours to touch so, pretty much.” It was a taunt, and they both knew it.

  He glowered down at her as she followed him up the stairs. “Dinnae push me, Thea.”

  She pursed her lips. “A threat only works if there’s something to fear. I could crush you, Conall, and we both know it.”

  “If that was supposed to deter me, it failed.” He flicked her a hungry look. “It only reminds me how strong you are, how hard you fuck, and how hard you like to be fucked.”

  Thea flushed at his language and the reminder of the bed they broke on the boat. He was being deliberately crude to piss her off and get a reaction out of her. “Treasure the memories, Wolf Boy.”

  “Oh, I will, Thea, lass,” he said, his tone softening with fondness and if she wasn’t mistaken, despondency.

  It killed her attitude, and she fell silent, brooding at his back.

  They soon stepped up onto the top floor where only one door awaited them. When Conall knocked, there was absolute silence. He knocked again, louder.

  “Maybe he’s not home.”

  He flicked her a smirk. “It’s daylight out and he’s a vampire. He’s bloody well at home.” He knocked harder and called loudly, “Vik, it’s Conall MacLennan.”

  A few seconds later they heard several locks being turned and then the door swung open. A tall, blond-haired vampire stood in the shadow of the doorway, his inquisitive, big blue eyes on Conall. He wore a Metallica T-shirt and a pair of gray jogging pants. Although skinny, Thea noted the wiry, muscular strength beneath his pale skin.

  “Hei Venn.”

  “Hei Venn,” Conall returned.

  His blue gaze turned to Thea, catching in the light, flicking to mercury and then back to blue. “I knew it was you.” Vik gestured between them, his accent a mix of Scottish and Norwegian. “I have security cameras.”

  “Can we come in?” Conall asked.

  Vik frowned. “Of course. But I think I should be worried. It’s not like you to turn up without warning.”

  Conall shook his head. “We need information.” He reached for Thea’s hand and she cursed him as she let him lead her into the apartment. He knew she was unlikely to make a scene in front of his friend by refusing to take his hand.

  Bastard.

  He brushed his thumb over her skin, almost absentmindedly, as he strode into the huge loft. “This place seems big for Oslo.”

  “It was two apartments. I bought them both and knocked them into one.” Vik finished locking the door, and Thea noted the many, many locks. Paranoid much? Or just a protection from the sun? She noted the floor-to-ceiling windows on one side of the apartment fitted with thick blackout blinds. Not a crack of sunlight shone through.

  Large overhead steel light fixtures kept the space as bright as possible.

  The floorboards were stripped and bare, but there was a rug here and there to add some texture and perhaps coziness. They failed on the coziness part. A large black-leather corner sofa took up one area of the open-plan space. It faced the biggest flat-screen television Thea had ever seen. Behind the television was a large king-size bed tucked into the back corner of the
room.

  In the opposite corner of the space was a shiny white kitchen. Glossy cabinets, white quartz countertops, and white kitchen accessories made that area shine like an iceberg.

  Thea wondered how the vampire kept it so clean.

  Yet the most interesting area was directly before them. Floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with books lined the wall from where the kitchen ended to the windows on the opposite side. In front of the shelves sat what appeared to be a mini research center. A large desk hosted a computer with three screens. To the side, built up against one of the windows, was a display unit filled with different artifacts, what looked like an old Viking helmet, coins, goblets, a sword, a small shield, and an assortment of daggers.

  An unpleasant tingle moved through Thea and she followed the feeling to a silver-gray dagger pinned to the wall of the display. She almost hissed.

  Pure iron.

  Wrenching her eyes away, Thea studied the vampire. Despite the Metallica shirt he was wearing, a female opera singer played from a sound system that seemed to encompass the entire apartment.

  She steadfastly ignored the discomforting awareness of the iron blade in the corner.

  “Who is your lovely friend, Conall?” Vik asked, flicking Thea a mercury look as he wandered into the kitchen. “Drink?”

  “This is Thea. And I’ll take a water if you have it.”

  “Me too,” Thea said.

  The vampire nodded and pulled two small bottles of water out of the fridge. Thea knew from her time with Ashforth that vampires ate and drank like humans, but they also needed blood to survive.

  Thea thanked Vik as he gave her the water. She used it as an excuse to drop Conall’s hand.

  “So, what is this about?” Vik crossed his arms over his chest. “You know this is my nighttime hours, friend.”

  “And I apologize for the rudeness of our arrival. But this is important.” He turned to Thea, his eyes questioning, and she knew he wanted her permission to tell the story. She reluctantly nodded.

  It was difficult to stand through Conall’s retelling. Thankfully, he left out the nitty-gritty of her captivity with Ashforth but told Vik enough for him to grasp the story. Conall explained to him about being chased by the Blackwood Coven and the new mystery enemy who went by the name Eirik.

  When Conall was finished, Vik was unnaturally still, staring almost unseeingly at the floor.

  “Vik?”

  His blue eyes flashed to Thea. “Tell me about your abilities again.”

  Something about the intensity of his stare unnerved her, but Conall’s encouraging nod prompted her to reply. “I’m fast, strong.”

  “Faster and stronger than any supernatural I’ve met,” Conall added.

  “I can … I can make people see things. Things I want them to see.”

  Vik’s expression flickered but it was difficult to know what that meant.

  “And … when I was younger—not now—I could move things without touching them.”

  He frowned. “Not now?”

  “I stopped using the ability a long time ago. I haven’t been able to do it since. Well, sometimes I make things happen when I’m upset. Moving things, messing with electricity, anything that emits energy, really. I can turn on a car without an ignition key. That’s been handy in the past.” She tried to be droll to ease her own nervousness.

  Vik abruptly turned away, striding toward the bookshelves. He studied them, running his eyes up and down the books. “And you can heal. Instantly?”

  “Yes.”

  He moved along the shelves as Thea and Conall shared a questioning look. Vik glanced over his shoulder at Thea. “Can you move from one space to another by merely thinking about it?”

  She frowned but something flickered in the back of her mind.

  The plane crash.

  How she’d been in darkness, in pain, smelling the most horrific smells, and then the next, outside the plane.

  “I … not that I know of.” She avoided Conall’s eyes, wondering if he was thinking about the plane crash too.

  “And iron. Pure iron. Do you know if it can hurt you?” His gaze flicked to the iron blade on his display unit before turning back to Thea.

  She felt Conall tense at the same time she did. They hadn’t mentioned the iron yet. “Yes,” she whispered, butterflies erupting to life as Vik nodded.

  There was a light of disbelief and excitement in his eyes as he stared at her.

  “Well?” Conall snapped.

  Vik reached up and grasped a small volume from his shelves. He turned around and moved back toward them before dropping the book on the desk with a light thwomp. “You’re right. Thea is immortal.”

  Something withered inside her at his declaration. She looked down at the book. “As in …”

  “Never age, never die. A true immortal.”

  “That’s what Ashforth called her.” Conall scowled. “And he knows about the iron.”

  “Then he knows what she is.”

  “Which is?”

  Vik gestured to the book, and they both edged closer.

  Embossed in gold across the leather was the word FAERIE.

  Thea’s eyes flew to Vik’s in consternation. His regard upon her was intense. “You’re one of the fae. I thought that would be obvious.”

  “Fae?” Thea spluttered incredulously. “As in fucking fairies?” She shot a look at Conall, angry at him for bringing her to this lunatic.

  But Conall was glaring at Vik. “Those are just myths. Legends.”

  Thea shook her head, taking a step back from the crazy guy. “You … are you telling me you think I have something to do with the werewolf and vampire origin myth?”

  “They’re not myths.” Vik shot a quelling look at Conall who had opened his mouth to protest. “I know you think only religious supes believe in this stuff, but it’s not religion, Conall. I’ve been researching a long, long time and there is enough evidence to prove its truth. I’m talking about primary sources. Supes who were actually there during the time of the fae.” He gestured to the book.

  Confused, Thea sighed in exasperation and mounting panic. “I’ve only read a little about this stuff, so I’m lost here.”

  Vik nodded. “Then allow me to explain. To understand you must know that there exists more than this dimension. The existence of fae proves there is at least one more than ours. They belong to another world. It’s similar to our own but different too. In our world, there are people connected to the earth. They use energy in a way that other humans could never hope to.”

  “You’re talking about witches and warlocks,” Conall said, impatience edging his words.

  “Exactly. We call it magic. In the fae world, magic is different. For a start, everyone who belongs to the fae world belongs to magic. To an earth witch, the magic on Faerie would be unstable, unusable without causing great destruction. But the fae are stronger, more complex beings than our witches. And thousands of years ago they opened a gate into our world.”

  “You’re telling me that all the legends and stories about fairies are based in truth? That the fae walk among us?”

  “Thea.” Vik grinned, shaking his head. “They didn’t just walk among us. They made supernaturals.”

  “Religious bullshit,” Conall scoffed.

  “Not religious bullshit. Truth! How else did we get here, Conall? Evolution in our dimension doesn’t work this way.” He gestured between himself and Conall. “We’re beings of a different kind of magic than what is found here on Earth, and deep down you know that too.” Vik turned back to Thea. “The fae are ruled by one queen—”

  “The Faerie Queen?” Thea guffawed.

  Vik scowled. “She could turn you to dust with the snap of her fingers, so show some respect, please. The fae are immortal. Truly immortal. When they grow weary of their long lives, it is said they drink from the queen’s cauldron and they’re reborn anew. The queen, Aine—spelled A-i-n-e, pronounced ‘awn-ya’—never grows weary, has never slept, and is the most po
werful being in their world.”

  “Fairy tales supes tell themselves to explain our existence.” Conall shook his head in disbelief.

  Vik transformed from smirking young college student to cold-faced predator. He snarled, “Your ignorance is showing, Conall.”

  Conall bared his teeth but didn’t comment.

  The vampire rounded the desk to stare intensely at Thea. Some might say in awe, even. “Many stories have mixed up truths with myth over the years but here is the truth: For thousands of years, humans were taken to Faerie through the gate that Aine opened. They say the gate opened in Ireland, which is why the country is rife with folktales and the fae get their names from the Irish. It was said the queen had a particular fondness for humans who were like themselves but so fragile, so finite. The problem was that the fae are not actually like humans. They cannot be when they live forever. Boredom, eternity, it has a way of twisting a being who already has darkness in their soul. And we are all born with darkness and light. It doesn’t mean they are entirely ‘bad’. Like I said, the fae are complicated. And they amused themselves with court games and wickedness. They were in constant competition with one another.

  “Queen Aine rules over Faerie, which is split into four countries ruled by royal houses. Whatever the fae call themselves, we’ll never know because fae language is unintelligible to human ears. They picked up on our languages with ease and all my sources tell me they spoke in human tongue around humans. As such, the words I use relating to their world are human—Irish—in origin.

  “We called their world Faerie and those within it the fae. They lived with a hierarchy much like our own. There was the queen and below that her royal subjects, below them the aristocracy, below that a middle class, and then below them the equivalent of peasantry. Aine, although ruler of all, lives in the Samhradh Palace among the fae courtiers of the Samhradh Royal House. As the centuries passed, storytellers nicknamed them the Day Lands because they lived in a part of Faerie with eternal sunshine. And among them lived princes, princesses, lords and ladies, and their servants.

  “On the other side of Faerie, there is the Geimhreadh Palace, ruled over by a Geimhreadh prince of the Geimhreadh Royal House. It is known as the Night Lands—they live in a country of constant winter darkness.