by Lila Dubois
“A time when it is easier to cross between here and Fae.”
“Exactly. Here’s the rest. ‘Miss Jameson, daughter of Irish parents, grew up in St. Philip’s Orphanage in Kensington and found peace through serving others as a nurse. Her disappearance from the grounds of Brompton Oratory at nine-thirty in the evening was most strange. One parishioner claims that Miss Jameson was drawn through a doorway of divine white light. We pray for her safe return, as her skills and charity will be of great service in this troubling time.’”
“What does that mean?’
“In September 1914, when she disappeared, England had just declared war. If she was a nurse, they would have needed her. Read it for yourself.”
Isabel rose so Aed could take her place, peering into the machine at a lighted image. The small block of text she’d read was under a picture of a dark-haired woman with a white cap on her head. It was the same photo they’d found in several newspaper stories that mentioned Edith’s disappearance.
Aed sat back. “White light—a portal to Fae.” He covered his face with his hands. “She’s a changeling.”
“I’m sorry, Aed.”
“The place she was taken from, can we go there?”
“Brompton Oratory? Yes, it’s in London. Let me get copies of everything we’ve found and then we’ll catch an afternoon train back to London.”
Aed rolled his shoulders and forced himself to be patient as Isabel talked to the humans, made copies and then sat at a desk and did something with a small box she stuck into the side of the “computer.” By the time they were back on the train, a cold weight had settled over him. Whoever was responsible for kidnapping the human woman Edith Jameson had broken the law and banished one of the Tuatha de to a cruel fate in the human realm. They would pay for their crimes.
Isabel took his hand, and he squeezed her cold fingers. He’d never thought to love someone the way he loved her, but like the songs of doomed love he’d heard growing up, Aed had the sinking feeling that no matter how much they might want it there was no happy ending for a Vampire Sage and a Fenian of the Tuatha de Danaan.
Brompton Oratory was haunted. Not haunted in the way humans might think—souls of the deceased did not linger here, but the emotions of thousands of humans clung to the massive stones of the large neoclassical building. The accumulated hope and grief of hundreds of years stained the ground around them and seeped from the foundation, a grim reminder that though life was fragile, desire and need were powerful forces that survived the death of the body.
Aed moved slowly, each step deliberate and measured. His hands were raised slightly, fingers spread, as they circled the outside of the massive building. Their discovery in the National Archives had changed him. She treasured the brief glimpse she’d had into his heart—that of the restless, playful boy locked inside the warrior. Part of her wished she hadn’t said anything, that she’d kept her discovery to herself so he would not have to bear the weight of this terrible thing.
But he had his duty, just as she had hers.
The sun had set while they took the Underground from Waterloo to Kensington, and what little light had filtered through the cloud cover was gone, the sky a charcoal-colored dome above them. Cars whizzed by on the street. A nearby streetlamp was partially obscured by the branches of a yew tree, and the gentle wind swayed it just enough to make the patches of light dance.
Aed stopped and ran his hand over a small commemorative plaque on the wall. There were many such plaques along the side of the building. After a moment he dropped his hand and kept walking, stopping again at the corner. He knelt, examining the rough-hewn foundation block. Isabel followed, looking to see what had caught his attention. The stone was badly pitted and worn, seeming older and less refined than the one next to it. He pointed at something, and Isabel bent to see a small cross carving near the center. But the cross was not the traditional shape used by Christianity—the vertical and horizontal pieces were of equal length.
Aed laid both hands on the rock and began to whisper.
Light poured out of the cross carving. The air around Aed crackled. Isabel’s heart stuttered—she was no longer human and hadn’t been for a long time, but Aed truly was “other.” He was magic in a way she would never be, connected to something greater than she could even imagine.
And he loved her.
Like a moth to a flame, Isabel went to him, kneeling in the uneven grass and brushing her fingers through the halo of light that surrounded him.
She tasted the sweet juice of ripe summer fruit, smelled roses and growing grass and the earth after rain. Her skin prickled with the warm touch of sunlight.
Scared, she pulled back, searching the sky for the deadly sun, but it was still night.
She was once more struck by his otherness, that feeling immediately followed by a desperate need to touch him, as if to assure herself that even if she could never understand him, she could still love him. Isabel licked her lips, the sweetness of fruit lingering there. The tastes and scents and feelings weren’t real—they were coming from Aed. It was as if her body was translating his magic, his power, into something she could make sense of.
Aed pulled back from the foundation stone, and the light faded. Isabel stroked his arm, urging him to turn. His expression went from grim to concerned when he looked at her.
“Isabel?”
“I forgot.”
“Forgot what?”
“Who you are. What you are. In the end, no matter what I make of myself, I will never really understand you.”
“Understand me?” Aed gathered her in his arms. “I don’t know why you look so frightened, but I will protect you from whatever it is.”
Isabel smiled as his big body sheltered and warmed hers, but it was a sad smile.
Aed kissed the top of her head. “I have to return to Fae.”
“Why? What was that light?”
“The remnants of a portal.”
“In the foundation of a Catholic church?”
“This place has roots older than that of the new Christian religion. That cross is a symbol of the division of the world into four parts. It was carved long before the religion of this church was formed.”
“So Edith was taken to Tara through a portal. This portal.”
“No, not Tara. To Aran.”
“Aran?” Isabel hadn’t heard much about that kingdom of the Tuatha de Danaan.
Aed sighed heavily. “Yes, and that makes this more complex. Aran has long been known as a place where our darkest secrets lie. It would be dangerous for us to go there.”
“Then it’s a good thing we’re not going there.”
“We’re not?”
“No. Wherever this portal went, the problem is now in Tara. I’m going to call the plane.”
Aed frowned. “Is there no portal in London?”
Isabel looked at her phone. “You promised to give me time to warn the Vampire. We’ll go to Bucharest, and I promise as soon as we’re there we’ll go back to Fae.”
“Isabel…”
“Your sword and armor are in Bucharest.”
Aed grunted. “Very well. We, uh, have to use the plane?”
“We do, but I’ll make the human I fed on sit up front so we can use the bed. I’ll fuck you all the way there.”
Aed rose then helped her up. “Do you need to eat again?”
“No, but if we’re going back to Fae, I’ll have a little blood, just in case.”
Isabel hailed a black cab and they piled into the back. Aed took up a huge amount of space and she ended up cuddled against him, his arm across her shoulders. Not that she minded.
His lips brushed her cheek. “You can have my blood.”
Isabel was hit with the vivid image of Aed naked on the bed, his body straining in pleasure as she licked a trickled of blood from his neck while she rode h
is rock-hard cock. Her nipples pebbled inside her bra.
“I want that more than I can say…but I can’t. It’s forbidden.”
“I swear to you I would never tell.”
Isabel longed to say yes, but she shook her head. “I would not break the Accords, even in secret. But if I do feed, I’m going need you naked and ready for me the instant I’m done.”
Aed shifted in his seat. Isabel slid her hand across his lap, brushing the hard ridge of his cock.
“Feeding arouses me.” She nipped his neck with her front teeth, careful that her partially down fangs didn’t nick him.
“I noticed.”
“I’m going to fuck you until you beg me to stop.”
His hand tangled in her hair, jerking her head back just slightly. “I won’t be the one begging.”
“Oh, I think you will.”
Isabel lost the bet. Somewhere over Germany, Aed had her begging for release, and by the time the plane touched down in Bucharest even the looming issues they faced seemed insignificant.
Aed stood guard while she changed.
Stripping off the exercise clothes, Isabel took a dress out of the duffle bag she’d carried as they ran from the Vampire city to this spot just outside the walls of Tara.
Aed had put his leather clothing back on, though to Isabel’s amusement he’d kept the human-made boxer briefs. He’d carried his armor through the portal with them but left it in the Bucharest Cabal house, saying he’d move faster without it. Now that they were back in Fae, Aed’s power tingled around him, and he could easily call the armor once they were inside. Isabel couldn’t forget the image of him kneeling in a halo of light. Had she seen him like that when she was human, she would have thought he was a god.
This time she’d selected a dress that was less royal courtier and more James Bond. The floor-length black skirt had a slit up to mid-thigh on one side, and that length of leg was the only exposed skin. A high collar and long sleeves were both practical and elegant, the sleeves ending with loops that she put over her middle fingers so the fabric even covered the backs of her hands. Strappy sandals or a nice pair of stilettos would have made the dress, but she wasn’t going to let fashion trump safety, and instead put on low-heeled, knee-high boots. Pants would have been even better, but she didn’t like the idea of facing down the High King and Queen of the Tuatha de Danaan while wearing slacks, which only female servants seemed to wear in Tara.
The clinging stretch satin of the dress didn’t give her anywhere to keep weapons, so with another mental apology to the gods of style, she put on a black leather corset over the top. There were knives and assorted other items built into secret pockets around the bottom edges, and she tucked another, larger knife down between her breasts.
“You look different. Again.” Aed was eyeing the corset with a mixture of alarm and desire.
“Again?”
“Every time you change clothes you look different. The blue dress that made you look like a princess, the black tight things you just had on...”
“Which look is your favorite?” Isabel did a quick twirl to show off the final effect, knowing Aed wouldn’t care that it wasn’t exactly the most sophisticated outfit.
A smile worked its way across his face. “Naked. I prefer you naked.”
Isabel laughed, then took his arm.
Together they made their way into Tara.
Aed was on high alert as they passed through the tunnel of brambles. The thorns looked longer than they had the last time there were there, and the few blooms that clung to the brown vines were black and dripping blood-red sap.
“You said these are controlled by the High Queen, right?” Isabel clung to his side, gaze darting around at the foliage.
“Yes.”
“I don’t think she’s happy.”
The midnight garden was as beautiful as ever, but unlike last time, the chattering of unseen creatures was louder, the flickering as plants rustled and moved more obvious—something had agitated the garden.
When they reached the gatehouse Aed reached for the blindfold but then stopped. Isabel had done the Tuatha de Danaan a service in uncovering the changeling. She had a right to enter Tara unhindered.
Waving his hand, Aed opened the door from the garden to the castle.
Isabel’s eyes widened when with one step they were in the square entry chamber. “What happened to the stairs?”
“There are no stairs. Each person imagines something different when they enter Tara. We keep visitors blindfolded the first time, as it helps the magic that guards this place. Some imagine they hear the roar of dragons and fire, others swear they traveled for days. Occasionally visitors are allowed to leave without a blindfold, but when they do they see what they expect—caves of diamonds, mythical beasts or the bones of a million slain enemies.”
“But I remember us walking up all these stairs. And when I left I flew down the stairwell.”
“No, you merely passed through the gate. The first time I carried you through.”
“That sounds rather romantic. I’m sad I missed it.”
Aed snorted in laughter, then waved his hand. His armor slowly materialized on his body. Isabel watched him check his sword, then realized something.
“Just before I fled, you touched my cheek.” Isabel laid her hand on her face. “When I was trying to find a way out, I remember my face tingling. It happened again when I flew over the wall. That was you, wasn’t it?”
“I gave you safe passage—a magical key to unlock any door.”
“If you hadn’t done that, would I have escaped?”
“No.”
Isabel curled her fingers through his. “Thank you.”
Aed dropped his forehead to rest against hers. She would have given anything to simply walk away—to leave Tara and this mess of secrets they’d stumbled into. But she could not, and neither could he.
“First we find the cha—female.” Aed caught himself before he said “changeling.”
Isabel nodded, rolling her shoulders as if she were preparing for a fight.
“Stay close,” Aed warned.
Much as they had been that first night, the halls of Tara closest to the entrance were deserted. They passed a few courtyards Isabel remembered seeing before, which was reassuring.
“Lady Vampire.”
Aed spun, his sword drawn and arching out in one smooth movement. The tip of the blade stopped against the throat of the figure who’d spoken.
The voice was a man’s, as was the breadth of the shoulders under the short cloak he wore. The hood was up, hiding his face, but Isabel could see his boots, which were sturdy, thick leather—made for riding, not for show.
“Peace, Fenian. I do not mean any harm.”
Aed dropped his sword. “Deavon?”
The figured nodded. “Greetings, Aed mac Goll.”
“Isabel, Deavon is Evon’s brother.”
Isabel wondered why Aed had dropped his sword—if she’d been Evon’s brother, she would be out seeking revenge on those who’d hurt a member of her family. She tensed, ready for the accusations of barbarity.
“Lady Vampire, my brother speaks of your grace.”
Isabel signed in relief. “I’m surprised he remembers anything from that night.”
“He remembers only that when you touched him he felt joy, not pain. His hand is healing.”
“I’m relieved to hear that. If your brother is a gifted musician, then damaging his hand was a senseless crime.”
“I am in your debt, Lady Vampire. For what little it is worth, I pledge you my service.” Deavon dropped to one knee.
Isabel offered her hand. Deavon jerked in shock, his hood falling back. He looked like the last rays of sunset in autumn made flesh—his hair gleamed gold with undertones of red. His skin was sun-kissed bronze, but his eyes were a blue
so dark they were almost black. Isabel sucked in a breath as he hesitantly took her fingers and bowed over her hand. Her hand tingled from the contact.
Aed cleared his throat and glared at her. Isabel shrugged slightly, lips twitching. Aed glowered.
“Deavon, I thank you and assure you that your family owes me no debt for my actions toward your brother.”
“Thank you, Lady Vampire, but you have my service nonetheless.”
“In that case, tell me, do you know the best way to get to the servants’ halls from here?”
Deavon’s only sign of surprise was one slightly raised brow. “I can show you the way.” He rose from his knee.
“Thank you.” Isabel smiled graciously. When Aed didn’t say anything, she bumped him with her arm. He was in full armor, so more than likely he didn’t feel it, but he seemed to understand her unspoken message of don’t be rude.
Aed nodded at the other man, who looked between Isabel and Aed before motioning for them to follow.
He led them to a blank stretch of wall in an otherwise nondescript corridor. Deavon laid his hand on the stone. Two sections of the corridor swung inward, revealing a wide, well-lit hallway. Unlike the tunnel-like route they’d taken to the scene of the murder, this area was as nicely built as the public corridors.
“The service rooms for the great hall are that way. Shall I accompany you?”
“No, thank you, Deavon. Perhaps it would be best if you left this part of the castle.”
He didn’t even hesitate. With a quick bow, the Tuath man turned and disappeared.
Aed took the lead. Once they were inside, the corridor closed behind them. A set of wide stairs led them down to a massive chamber full of elegantly dressed tables.
Aed looked at the ceiling. “We’re under the great hall.”
“So this is where the tables go when they disappear?”
“Yes, and that means the kitchens are back here.”
Isabel slid one the daggers out of her corset and tucked it into her sleeve, the handle nestled in her palm.
“Let’s find Edith.”
Chapter Sixteen
Aed had never been in the Tara kitchens. The Hill of Allen was less formal, and since he’d grown up there he’d spent more than a few evenings sitting at one of the work tables eating soup while holding an herb pack against muscles that ached from training while the cooks bustled around him.