Dog Eat Dog World: Limited Edition Bundle (Black Dog)

by Hailey Edwards

“Hey,” I yelped. “What are you doing?”

  “I hear my guest bumping around.” He cocked an eyebrow at me. “I thought you would want to speak with him as soon as possible.” He snaked his other arm behind my shoulders and lifted me. “If you would stop squirming, I could get you into the living room. Or do you want to wait in here until you’re healed enough to manage the walk on your own? We both know this is no time for risks.”

  “Fine,” I grumbled, snagging the icy cushion before it fell.

  Being carried like a small child in Mac’s arms blackened my mood. He was right. I wanted to speak to Rook—the faster the better—and couldn’t afford to reinjure myself. By the time I put the screws to Rook, maybe we would have our first lead in finding and taking down the Morrigan.

  After settling me on a wooden chair in need of a cushion and elevating my leg by propping it on a low bookshelf, Mac went in search of his guest. Sniffing the air, he skirted the bedroom and hit the kitchen. Murmured conversation drifted to me, too low to hear, and then they entered together.

  Gone was Rook’s hip-length hair. Chunks of it were shaved to the scalp and others were missing altogether. His usually grayish complexion—healthy for an Unseelie—had turned bone white. Thick, pink scars marred his handsome face. During the hunt, he recovered from a broken arm within hours. Those raised marks should have healed smoothly. Whoever had done this had marked him on purpose so he would not soon forget his punishment. This cruelty smacked of his Mommy Dearest, and I shivered.

  My parents had issues, yeah, but this? His mother was whack-a-doodle.

  I crossed my hands over my middle. “Sleep well?”

  Rook ran a hand over his scalp, and clumps of hair came away in his fingers.

  “I apologize for trespassing.” His head lowered. “I had nowhere else to go.”

  “Were you expecting us?” As in, had his mother sent him to spy on us?

  “No.” He shook his head. “Last I heard, Macsen was still missing. That’s why I thought I would be safe here. Thierry…” he shoved his hands in his pockets, “…I never thought I would see you again.”

  Unwilling to let myself soften, I snarled, “The Morrigan took Shaw.”

  “I know.” Rook’s head hung lower. “I saw him.”

  My heart beat hard once, and I wet my lips. “Where?”

  “In my home,” he admitted. “She kicked me out and put Bháin in charge of him.”

  A fraction of the tension left my shoulders. “That’s a good thing.”

  “Thierry…” he began, eyes finding mine. “Bháin is a servant of Winter.”

  I rolled my hand to encourage an explanation.

  “His people are only as kind as our current ruler demands they be.” A frown twisted down his lips. “It makes them unpredictable and impossible to control. That’s why Unseelie employ them—as a badge of honor—like breaking a wild horse and then riding it through the streets for all to admire.”

  The vise around my heart clamped tight. “He was good to Mom.”

  “King Moran was a good man,” he admitted with a hint of reluctance. “My mother…”

  “You broke Bháin. You’re here, comparing him to an animal. Of course he’s going to buck the system given half a chance.” Fear lent me strength. “Will he hurt Shaw? Why does your mother want him? Leverage? Give me something.”

  “Bháin will do whatever my mother asks him to without qualm.” Rook broke eye contact. “I doubt she’ll have anything permanent done to Shaw, not until she has a chance to speak with you, to bargain with you.”

  “Permanent.” I shoved onto my feet, wincing when my weight hit my tender knee. “If Bháin touches him, I will kill him. We’ve come too far for this—”

  Mac skirted Rook, got between us and pushed until I toppled backward into the chair.

  “Sit,” he ordered. “If you blow out your knee again, that’s another hour wasted.”

  Snarling under my breath, I shifted to get comfortable.

  “No one survives Faerie without making contingency plans. The front door to his home isn’t the only way inside.” Mac angled himself to keep an eye on Rook. “There are others. He didn’t use them because he knows his servant would kill him. Servants of Winter are proud people. Given the chance, broken or not, he could best a half-blood.” Rook stiffened until Mac added, “That is not a slur, but a fact.”

  This explained a lot. Bháin was kind to my mother and polite to me, but he clearly hated Rook.

  I understand completely.

  “Is he right?” I pressed. “Can you get us into your home?”

  After a short hesitation, Rook answered, “Yes.”

  Unconvinced, I rubbed my shin. “Will Bháin be a problem?”

  “Once I’m back inside,” Rook promised darkly, “Bháin will fall in line.”

  “Good.” I gave Mac a weighted look then turned to Rook. “You hungry? Thirsty? Need to pee?”

  The last option pinked his pale cheeks. “No.”

  “Grab what you need to entertain yourself and get back in bed.” I flicked my hand. “Go on.”

  Moving stiffly, Rook gathered three of the gnawed-on books from the floor and twisted them to show Mac the titles, asking permission to read them. Once Mac gave the okay, Rook scuffled his way back into Mac’s bedroom. He pulled the door flush, but didn’t close it, so Mac did it for him.

  Mac quirked his eyebrows. “Don’t trust him?”

  I scoffed. “About as much as I would trust one of those tigers with a baby púca.”

  Sudden pressure built in my ears, popping them. He had invoked another charm.

  He scooped up and pocketed the broken remains. “This will give us some privacy.”

  I dropped my head into my hands. “This is too easy, too convenient, isn’t it?”

  “I had the same thought.”

  I peeked through my fingers at him. “No one is stopping us from severing the tethers. The Aves gave us a hard time, but the Morrigan could have sent worse. The tigers, well, you said yourself they often den near the tether because they like the swamp. We’ve been hassled, but not hurt. Not really.”

  Mac leaned a shoulder against the wall, his gaze tagging the door to his bedroom.

  “Yeah, then there’s that. He shows up on your doorstep of all places within a day of our arrival? He was tossed out on his can, but he happens to know where Shaw is and who is in charge of him? It doesn’t ring true to me. Plus the fact he’s the only one who can get us in? No. I don’t like this at all.”

  A thoughtful expression crossed his face. “We must observe him and see what he does.”

  “He claimed Branwen was the reason he played nice with his mother. Do you think telling him I found her would win him to our side? Or—” this was more probable, “—do you think he was lying?”

  “His involvement might have started as a means of finding a beloved sister, but he’s moved past such innocent beginnings now. A taste of power leaves one hungry for more, and Rook is starving. A half-blood surviving in fae society for as long as he has is unheard of. Faerie shreds their humanity.”

  The hard edge in his voice woke my curiosity. “Is that why you didn’t bring me here?”

  “Yes.” His tone gentled. “I wanted you raised among humans, and your mother wanted you raised without my interference, limited though any visitation with me could have been. She and I struck a fitting compromise. I hoped you would soak up humanity’s kindness and wonder, their compassion. I wanted you to be true to yourself, to learn who you are and what you value, not conform to what this place would have made of you.”

  Compromise? The old me would have pointed out Mom didn’t care what Mac wanted. He had left us, and even though she had forgiven him, she had done what she herself thought best for me. But he was kind of growing on me, and it was sort of cute he thought his opinion on my upbringing carried weight with Mom where I was concerned. We might have had our differences, but she was one hundred percent ferocious momma bear when it came to her offs
pring. Love affair aside, Mac wasn’t her baby. I was.

  Still, I womaned up and admitted, “I do wish I had gotten to know you sooner.”

  Mac’s eyes shone, and he sat up straighter. “That means a lot coming from you.”

  “Yeah, well, don’t let it go to your head,” I groused. “I’m still a momma’s girl at heart.”

  “As long as you have room in there for me,” he said softly.

  Heat creeping into my cheeks, I changed the subject before it got too touchy-feely in here.

  “Rook must know what we’re doing.” I removed the icy cushion. “He hasn’t tried to stop us.”

  Mac caught the cushion when I tossed it to him. “We haven’t given him the opportunity.”

  Testing my knee, I found it held my weight with barely a twinge. With one last glance at Mac’s bedroom door, I headed for the Hall of Many Doors, ready to go again. “Let’s make sure we don’t.”

  Mac and I didn’t give Rook a heads-up before we ditched him, slipping back into Spring before night fell to finish the job of disconnecting its secondary tether. The lack of tigers was welcome. So was the lack of, well, everything else. The second tether was the one Rook had used to bring me here the first time, and I felt a twinge when the ornate arbor collapsed without its magical supports. But it had to go. With that done, we were left with three working tethers…and no sign yet of the Morrigan.

  A burst of inspiration led us to make a pit stop at the remaining Autumn tether where Mac warded the ground to prevent anyone from using it until we returned. Once fae started catching on to our demolition streak, they would start checking each tether until they found an active one. Most couldn’t operate them, and Mac would know instantly if anyone tried, but why take chances? Better to lock them away from the escape hatch than risk having to hunt them down in the mortal realm later.

  Back at Mac’s den, we tucked into a hearty meal Rook had prepared with supplies Mac had brought into the kitchen before we left. Rare as company was for Mac, he didn’t own a dining table or chairs, so we made ourselves comfortable in the open living room while the chef fumed at being left behind and gnashed his teeth when Mac performed a spell to check the food for poisons and drugging herbs.

  I found it hilarious. What did he expect? That Mac and I would trust him? Where Rook and food were concerned, I had zero faith in any good intentions. I would have refused the meal altogether if I weren’t already hitched to the feather duster and reasonably sure that he wasn’t after Mac for a triad.

  Shudder.

  “You never said why you’re here,” Rook said around a piece of meat.

  No clue what it was, and yeah, no intentions of asking either.

  “You didn’t ask,” I demurred.

  He lowered his fork. “I just did.”

  I stabbed a hunk of chickenlike meat. “Can’t a girl want to visit her father?”

  “I thought you hated your father.” His gaze zinged to Mac. “No offense.”

  Mac chewed thoughtfully on a potato in answer.

  Enjoying needling him, I shrugged. “We have issues, but who doesn’t?”

  “Last I heard no one knew where you were.” Rook studied Mac. “Are you back?”

  “I seem to be.” Mac stood with a smirk and carried his empty plate to the kitchen.

  Conversation over.

  “I heard you talking about tigers earlier.” Watching Mac leave, Rook balanced his plate on his knee and reached for a cup of water on the floor. “Where is yours? I haven’t seen Diode since you arrived. Shouldn’t he be with you?” He sipped and smiled at me. “Or has he left now that Macsen is back?”

  I took another bite to buy me a minute to decide what to tell him. “We left Diode behind.”

  Folded in a box in my closet after Mac wisely decided to retire the skin.

  “We?” he echoed. “Behind where?”

  “Thanks for dinner.” I stood and gathered my dishes. “It was nice.”

  “You didn’t answer my questions.”

  I paused beside him and patted his cheek. “I know.”

  His low growl amused the heck out of me. Growling in the den of the Black Dog? Precious.

  I found Mac standing at a rustic basin functioning as his sink. Indoor plumbing for the win! Suds covered his hands from the dishes he was washing, and a smile spread across his face when he spotted me.

  “Enjoying yourself?”

  I held my thumb and finger as far apart as I could. “A little.”

  “Come here.” He scooted over to make room. “I want to show you something.”

  “You want help with the dishes?” I puzzled. “All you had to do was ask.”

  He squirted a dime-sized amount of an opaque liquid into his palms and worked up a lather.

  “No.” He added a few drops of water. “It’s time for your next lesson.”

  I darted a glance over my shoulder, but Rook sat right where I’d left him. “Should we do this now?”

  “What I have to say, he already knows.” Mac kept his fingertips and thumbs together, but spread the backside of his hand so a thin sheen of soap made a bubble covering the gap by his pinkies. “It’s time you learned how to create your own aer póca. If you had access to your skins earlier, you could have shifted into a bird and flown away to avoid confronting tigers. This is a skill you must master.”

  “For one thing, I don’t have a bird skin. For another, I don’t want to die in some feathersplosion when I fail to master properly shaking my tail feathers and end up splattering my birdy brains on the pavement. I have the amulet now.” It suited me just fine. “I could just poof myself back here if I get in trouble.”

  “You could,” he agreed too readily, “but you’re not a coward.”

  “Hey,” I spluttered. “Knowing when to stand and fight and when to retreat isn’t cowardice.”

  “No, it isn’t.” He blew air through the gap his thumbs made, and a bubble formed on the back of his hands. “But willful ignorance is.” It burst, and he added more soap and water. “Don’t be afraid.”

  “Easy for you to say,” I groused. “The shape-shifting thing… I’m not sure I need it.”

  “Is your hesitation a morality issue? Or something else?” He tried again to hold a bubble in his hand and failed. “You have only to reflect on your recent history to see the value in mastering such a skill. It has already saved your life more times than it has cost someone theirs. I fail to see the issue.”

  “The skins remind me of where they came from,” I admitted. “I can accept my actions cost lives to save others.” I added softer, “And to keep me alive.” I sighed, having trouble voicing the problem. “I worry it’s getting too easy to hurt people. Wearing the skins, I feel the remnants of the fae born to them, and some of them aren’t all bad. Or they didn’t used to be. They made bad decisions, and their lives ended—by my hand—because of them.” Shame washed over me. “It’s like taking trophies, like I’m proud of what I’ve done and want a reminder, when it’s not like that at all. Even the princes…” I took a shuddering breath. “I’m glad I’m alive, but I’m not glad they had to die to keep me that way.”

  Mac’s damp hand landed on my shoulder. “You have nothing to worry about.”

  I scoffed. “If I start slipping, who is going to rein me in? Tell me no?”

  “Shaw? Your mother?” He waited a beat and added, “Me?”

  The grim reality that I would go right back to being fatherless when this mission ended slapped me in the face. A handful of days was all I got? Really? How was that fair? Just when I got to see the real Mac, he was taken away from me? No wonder Mom had left in a huff. I was starting to understand, I was starting to…I don’t know…more than like Mac? Crap. We were bonding. How had that happened?

  The bottom line was Faerie was his home. This was his life. He had chosen it over us once before, and with the realm in turmoil, I believed he would again. Even if he wanted to be with us—with Mom—this was bigger than one man’s wants. It always had
been.

  “I guess,” I managed through a tight throat. “So…you were blowing bubbles?”

  His eyebrows slanted in a way that said this conversation isn’t over. But he let me have my way.

  Dampening his hands, he bolstered his lather and made another bubble cradled in his palms.

  “Aer pócas,” he began, “are fragile. They are magical constructs whose size is only limited by the power and imagination of their creator. Think of it as a closet that follows you wherever you go.”

  A memory of the red balloon Mom bought me at the zoo when I was five popped into my head. Probably the only reason I remembered it as well as I did was its tragic end. After spending all day at the annual carnival, eating funnel cake and playing games, I bumped into a clown and started screaming my head off. I’m not scared of much, but clowns? Shudder. To shut me up, he cranked up his helium tank and inflated a balloon for me, red to match my dress. All was right with my world until we left. At the car, a gust of wind teased the balloon out of the backseat, and Mom slammed the door shut on it. It burst, and wailing commenced. From then until I hit my teens, she would say don’t make this into a red balloon every time I pitched a hissy.

  I had almost forgotten about that fateful zoo trip. Mom’s favorite scold had slipped away into memory like so much else after my magic kindled.

  Sensing Mac’s eyes on me, I cleared my throat. “It’s not a portal?”

  “No,” he answered thoughtfully. “It doesn’t lead to another place so much as it is another place.”

  “If it’s basically a traveling air pocket, how are its contents invisible?” Or better yet, “How is it accessed?”

  “Think of it like a soap bubble.” He lifted his damp hands to get my attention. “Pócas are hollow spheres shaped by magic.” He flexed his thumbs to show the seam. Cupped between his palms was empty space. Behind them was the wall of soapy liquid. A quick twist of his hands set the bubble floating into the air. Light hit the iridescent sides, reflecting a shiny green. “Easy does it.”

  The tip of his finger pressed into the flimsy side of the drifting bubble, and I braced for a pop.

  “Huh.” While I looked on, his finger pierced the film without bursting it, and I admitted, “I didn’t expect that.”