We’re halfway down the hall, almost to the elevator. The other two clubs have begun blowing up, too. I hear an enormous, deep, rumbling sound and realize the floor is cracking beneath us.
Chunks of ceiling begin to fall.
At the elevator, Ryodan flings me from his shoulder into the compartment in one smooth motion.
I explode right back out. “Fecking thing is going to blow and you want me on it?”
“It’ll last long enough to get you out of here.”
“Bull-fecking-crikey! I give you fifty-percent odds I’ll make it!”
“I’ll take them.”
I’m in the air, over his shoulder, slammed back into the elevator again. The whole ceiling of the hallway is coming down now, crown moldings, drywall, steel girders. He’ll be crushed. Not that I care. “What about you?”
His smile is fanged. Creeps me out. “What, kid, you care?”
He slams the doors closed with his bare hands and I swear he gives the thing a push from below.
I shoot up into Chester’s.
THREE
“When the cat’s away …”
Under normal circumstances I’d have snooped through Ryodan’s office, but my day hadn’t been normal and I was in a pissy mood.
Two things were on my mind: get as far away from Ryodan as possible while he was busy dying (hopefully), and kill as many Fae inside Chester’s as I could on my way out.
The club “proper” was unprotected. Hoo-fecking-rah.
His dudes had whizzed past me so fast my hair shot straight up in the air five, six, seven times, minus Barrons, who doesn’t much leave TP’s side. No doubt they were heading down to the iced level, to save their boss. Keep him from being crushed. With any luck, the whole club would collapse into a pile of rubble and kill them all.
Somehow I doubted it.
They were like Barrons. I wasn’t even sure they could be killed. If so, it was probably only by a single weapon, hidden inside an invisible box, on an invisible planet, with an atmosphere that would burn up any living thing instantly, like a gazillion light-years away.
But I knew a few things that could be killed.
And my sword hand has a permanent itch.
Slaying Unseelie gives me a rush that’s almost as intense as freeze-framing. The only thing missing is TP at my back, but I know if I ever have TP at my back again, she’ll be trying to shove a spear through my heart.
Supercharged on adrenaline and anger, I slice and dice my way through the subclub that bugs me the most: the one where the waitresses dress like school kids, in short, pleated plaid skirts and white socks, and crisp white blouses with starched collar points.
Kids. They’re the worst victims of the fall. There are so many of them hiding in the streets, with no clue how to survive.
At Chester’s, grown women are dressing like kids to trade favors for pieces of Unseelie flesh, the latest drug on the market. It has epic healing powers, and temporarily gives humans extra strength and stamina. I hear it makes sex really intense, too. The things people are willing to do for a quick high—eat pieces of our enemies’ flesh! Makes me want to knock heads together.
So I do.
I get a few good elbow jabs in on the waitresses, too. Half of them are those stupid See-You-in-Faery chicks who chirp the stupid phrase at each other every time they part, like going to Faery is something to aspire to instead of something to avoid like ten variations of the black plague.
They should be out in the streets, helping us fight and rebuild our world. Instead they’re in here, consorting with the enemy, selling themselves for a shot at immortality. I don’t buy that bunk. I think the Unseelie made that part up—that if you eat enough Unseelie flesh, eventually you become immortal, too, and you can hang with them in Faery all social-like.
I slay every last one of the Fae in the kiddie subclub, ignoring the waitresses screaming at me to stop. Some people just don’t know what’s good for them.
There’s black blood on my hands, goop in my hair, and my eyes are so swollen from my earlier collisions that I can barely see, but I don’t need to see much. I’ve got a homing device where Fae are concerned. I sense Unseelie. I slay.
I feel a big bad one behind me, worse than any of the ones I’ve killed so far, oozing all kinds of power. Sword back, poised for the killing blow, I whirl and bring my blade slashing down—
And miss!
The Unseelie ducks, rolls, and springs lightly to his feet half a dozen tables away. He flips his long black hair over a muscled, tattooed shoulder and hisses at me.
I lunge after him without even thinking and am about to slam into him when I realize what he is.
I change direction mid-lunge and scramble back, feet pedaling air. Feck, feck, feck, one of the Unseelie princes found me!
This is a battle I’m not up to today! I wasn’t expecting this because I never heard of any of the princes strolling into Chester’s!
I crash into a table, fall over backward, roll onto all fours and launch myself away. I’m about to find out if I can freeze-frame faster than it can sift. I rip open a power bar, shove half of it in my mouth and start shifting gears when the Unseelie prince says, “Lass, what the bloody hell are you doing? Have you taken a look around?”
I’m seeing through slits from all the swelling in my face, and my vision is a little dim, but I scan the place quick-like. All activity in the club has stopped. Fae and humans are lined up at balconies, staring at me from every level.
I tune in to what they’re saying.
“Crazy. The kid’s nuts.”
“Somebody needs to put that bitch down.”
“I’m not going near her. Did you see her move? Do you see what she’s holding?”
“The Sword of Light,” a Fae says icily. “Our sword.”
“Take it from her!”
“How dare she?”
“Kill her now.”
“I bet I can sift faster than she can slay,” one growls.
I toss my hair from my eyes, on all fours, every muscle tense, waiting. We’ll sure as feck find out.
“Who permitted that … that revolting … human … thing in here? Where is our host? This is neutral ground!”
“He swore an oath to us. He has failed us!”
I can’t help but smirk. Assuming Ryodan survives the collapse, he’s going to be seriously pissed. I just accomplished exactly what he’d tried to “hire” me to prevent. Ruined his rep. The whole club now knows Ryodan can’t guarantee safety at Chester’s. It’ll be all over Dublin within an hour. I might as well print up a special edition of The Dani Daily, broadcasting it. Good. If fewer folks come to Chester’s, fewer folks will die.
I glance back at the dude I initially thought was an Unseelie prince. The moment he’d spoken, I’d relaxed. Now that I’m slo-mo again, I see the differences.
I almost killed a human. Well, a human that’s in the process of becoming something else. If he hadn’t spoken up, I still might not be sure who he was, but I’ve never heard a Fae call anybody “lass.” I don’t think they’d stoop to it, not even to fake someone out.
It’s the Scot who crashed my water tower party the same night Ryodan did.
They’d faced off with each other, all bristling hostility, giving me time to escape. It had seemed he was there either to help me or to feck with Ryodan. Whichever—that makes him good for me.
This dude has problems as big as mine, maybe bigger. I consider him. He doesn’t like Ryodan. And he’s got some serious mojo. I can feel it shivering in the air around him. He could be a valuable ace in my hidey-hole. If he can be trusted.
“You’re a MacKeltar, right?”
“Christian,” he says.
“Aren’t your uncles some kind of warlocks or something? They helped hunt the Sinsar Dubh.”
“Druids, lass. Not warlocks.”
“Can you fight?”
He gives me a mocking look. “I don’t need to. I can walk you out of here without lifting a finge
r.”
Big talk. I decide to let him try.
He flanks me and we head for the door. Between what he looks like and my sword, every last occupant of Chester’s draws back as we pass. I can’t help but swagger a little.
Hisses, jeers, threats follows us.
But no one makes a move.
I could get used to this. Who needs TP? I got what looks like an Unseelie prince at my side and nobody, but nobody—not even the Unseelie—mess with their princes. Oh, yeah, this guy’s going to be a major plus in my column. I take a sidewise glance at him.
If I can get past that he looks like the most terrifying of all the Unseelie.
Beyond him I catch a glimpse of myself in a mirror. Between the bruises, swollen eyes, cuts, and blood of all colors, I’m not looking so hot myself.
Sword up, I squint through puffy eyelids and memorize faces on the way out.
Out in the streets, in the thick of battle, sometimes you have to make hard choices. Sometimes you can’t save everyone.
Humans that hang at Chester’s are never going to be at the top of my list.
FOUR
“I want a girl with a mind like a diamond”
I’m attracted to her.
She’s fourteen. And I’m attracted to her.
I’m eight years older than she is. Eleven if you count the three years I spent trying to escape the Fae Silvers. Eight or eleven: what’s the difference? It makes me one seriously fucked-up Highlander.
Or whatever the hell I am.
She’s a bloody mess, literally. Covered with guts and gore from killing, her nose is crusted with dried blood, she’s bruised, and she’s going to have two fierce black eyes before nightfall. It’s too late for ice to knock down the swelling.
And she’s on fire.
Light shines out of her delicate, battered face, blazes in her green eyes. She’s got a head of curly red hair that falls halfway down her back. Everything about her is brilliant and intense. She’s aware and invested in the world in ways most adults never get around to being. I know. I was once, too. Back when I thought hearing the truth in everyone’s lies was my biggest problem. She does everything one hundred and ten percent, with all her heart.
That’s what gets me.
Attraction isn’t always about sex. Sometimes it’s about something far subtler, and far bigger.
I watched her fight.
And something stirred inside me that I thought was dead.
Not my dick. That’s working great. Better than ever. Always hard. Always ready.
What stirred was like gentle rain on a warm summer day. Sweet. Tender. Something I used to be. With my clan. With my nieces and nephews.
She reminds me of my Highlands—to which I can never return.
I know exactly what she’s going to be one day. Bloody hell is she ever.
Worth. Waiting. For.
Too bad I won’t be here anymore.
Take her now.
“Fourteen,” I growl. I’ve gotten good at arguing with the voice inside my head. I get a lot of practice. An Unseelie prince wouldn’t give a second thought about her age. An Unseelie prince would see only that she has the right parts, and temper to spare. The bigger the fight, the better the feast.
“Why the feck does everybody keep saying that like it’s some kind of insult? Like, maybe I managed to forget for a minute?” she says crossly. “Geez! I’ve never seen so many people obsessed with my age!”
Dani bristling is something to see. I smile.
She takes a wary step away from me. “Dude, you planning to eat me or something?”
My smile vanishes. I look away.
I wear a mask. A face that isn’t mine.
I used to have what women called a killer smile.
Now I have a killer’s smile.
“ ’Cause, like Ryodan already bit me once today. I’m not in the mood for any more teeth in me anywhere.”
Ryodan bit her? One more reason to kill him. I look back at her, my face void of all expression. There’s no point in trying to look reassuring. This face can’t pull it off. “No biting. I promise.”
She squints at me suspiciously. “Dude, what are you? Unseelie or human? What happened to you?”
“Mac happened to me.” She flinches when I say it, and I wonder why. I blame Jericho Barrons, too. If I survive what I’m turning into, I’ll kill them both. Hate ripples through me, dense and black and suffocating. If not for them, I’d still be me. Then again, if Mac hadn’t done what she’d done, I wouldn’t be here at all. Then again, if Barrons hadn’t done what he’d done, or rather failed to do, what Mac did might not have turned me into this. Barrons didn’t check my tattoos before we performed a dangerous Druid ritual, then he abandoned me in the Silvers to die. When Mac found me in the Silvers, she fed me Unseelie to keep me alive. It’s impossible to decide which one of them I blame the most. So I blame both and I’m getting happier about that every day.
I saw Mac a few nights ago, across the club at Chester’s, looking blond and beautiful and happy. I want to take all that shiny-happy-blondness, twist it into a garrote, and strangle her with it. Hear her beg, and kill her anyway, love every minute of it.
Later that night, I’d stared at myself in the mirror for a long time. Arm bent behind my head, scratching my back with a knife—it itches all the time now—relishing the slide of warm blood on my skin as it ran down my spine into my jeans. I used to hate blood. Now I could bathe in it. Mother’s milk.
“Yeah, she does that,” Dani agrees with a sigh. “She happened to me, too.”
“What did she do to you?”
“It’s more like what she will do to me if she catches me,” she says. “Don’t want to talk about it. You?”
“Don’t want to talk about it.”
“Better things to talk about anyway. So, what were you doing at Chester’s?”
Good question. I have no bloody clue. I think the sheer number of Unseelie gathered calls to something in my blood. I don’t know why I go half the places I go anymore. Sometimes I don’t even remember the hours leading up to it. I just become aware that I’m someplace new with no memory of when I decided to go or how I got there. “I wanted a beer. Not many choices left in Dublin anymore.”
“No shit,” she agrees. “Not just for beer, for everything. Which side are you on?” she says bluntly. “Human or Fae?”
It’s a good question. I don’t have a good answer.
I can’t tell her I don’t discriminate. I despise everyone. Well, almost. There’s this fourteen-year-old redhead with a mind like a diamond. “If you’re asking if I’ve got your back, lass, I do.”
She narrows her eyes and peers at me. We’re standing outside Chester’s in a pool of light. The sky is so overcast it looks like dusk at three in the afternoon. I get a sudden image of us from above: slim, delicate-faced young girl in a long black leather coat, hands on her hips, staring up at a Highlander-going-Unseelie prince. The image is painful. I should be a good-looking twenty-two-year-old college student with a killer smile and a bright future ahead of me. We’d plot and plan and fight the good fight together. That version of me would watch out for her. Make sure nobody does to her what the voice in my head tells me the first Unseelie that catches her without her sword is going to do. What a part of me wants to do, too. Fury fills me. At them. At me. At everything. “You never take that sword off your body, right?”
She backs up a step, hands going to her ears. “Dude, my hearing works great. You don’t need to yell.”
I didn’t know I was. But a lot of things come out differently than I mean them to now. “Sorry. I’m just saying, you do realize what will happen to you if one of the Unseelie catches you. Right?”
“Never going to happen,” she says smugly.
“With that attitude, it will. Fear is healthy. Fear is good. It keeps you on your toes.”
“Really? ’Cause I think it’s a waste of time. Bet you don’t fear nothing,” she says admiringly.
Every time I look in the mirror. “Sure I do. That you’ll get sloppy and slip up and one of them will grab you. Snuff you out.”
She tilts her head, eyes narrowed on my face. Not many people look me full in the face anymore. Not for long anyway. “Maybe you aren’t all Unseelie prince yet. Maybe we can, like, work out some kind of arrangement.”
“What do you have in mind?”
“I want to shut down Chester’s. Torch it. Exterminate it.”
“Why?”
She cuts me a look of scorn and disbelief. “You saw it in there! They’re fecking monsters! They hate humans. They use them and eat them and kill them. And Ryodan and his men let them!”
“Say we do close down the place, say we burn it to the ground. They’ll just find another place to go.”
“No they won’t,” she insists. “They’ll pull their heads out. They’ll smell the coffee percolating and see we saved them!”
A rush of emotion, cloyingly sweet as funeral lilies, floods me, swells my tongue with a taste both familiar and sickening. She’s tough, smart, capable, a stone-cold killer when she needs to be.
And she’s so bloody naïve.
“They’re at Chester’s because they want to be at Chester’s. Make no mistake about that, lass.”
“No. Fecking. Way.”
“Yes fecking way.”
“They’re confused!”
“They know exactly what they’re doing.”
“I thought you were different but you’re not! You’re just like Ryodan! Just like everyone. Ready to write them all off. You don’t see that some people need saving.”
“You don’t see that most people are beyond saving.”
“Nobody’s beyond saving! Nobody! Ever!”
“Dani.” I say her name tenderly, savoring the pain she makes me feel.
I turn and walk away. There’s nothing for me here.
“So, that’s it, then?” she yells after me. “You won’t help me fight either? Gah! Sheep! You’re all big fat fecking sheep waggling big fat fecking sheep asses!”
Iced: A Dani O'Malley Novel (Fever Series) Page 5