Peigi landed on something hard. The pure darkness vanished, dissolving into gray daylight and thick mist. She found herself lying on ground covered with dead leaves and pine needles, Stuart and Miguel more or less on top of her.
The door behind them, hovering in midair, closed with a snap. Its outline quivered, and then it disappeared entirely. The wind died, and all was silence.
Michael’s weight left Peigi as he gained his feet. “What the total fuck?”
Stuart climbed to his feet more slowly and reached down to help Peigi stand.
“You all right?” he asked her.
“Sure.” She was bruised and shaken, but whole, as far as she could tell. She moved her arms and fingers, bent over and touched her legs, wriggled her toes in her sensible sneakers. “Nothing broken.”
Michael looked around wildly then fixed his glare on Stuart. “What happened? Where are we? What is this place—” He broke off, dragging in scent. “Holy shit. This is Faerie. Isn’t it? You’ve brought us to Faerie, you slime-eating, fucking bastard.”
He came at Stuart, fingers sprouting claws, going for his throat.
Peigi stepped between them. It was a very frightening place to be, in front of Michael, who was crazy, but smart enough to hone his craziness to his advantage. And strong, powerful, and very dominant.
“Stop it!” she yelled at Michael. “Don’t be stupid. He’s the only one who can get us out of here.”
“Why the hell am I here in the first place?”
“Because you wouldn’t let me go.” Peigi got in his face, something she’d never, ever dreamed of doing when she was his prisoner. But that was then, this was now, and she was furious. “You grabbed us. I bet the house knew you were effing dangerous, because it slid us right through. You were following us in New Orleans, weren’t you? If so, it’s your own fault you’re here, so back off.”
Michael stared at her in amazement, then to her surprise took a step away, claws receding.
“No, I couldn’t let you go. You’re my mate, Peigi. I came to find you.”
“Not anymore,” Peigi said heatedly. “I rejected that mate claim a long time ago.”
“Did you? Huh. I don’t remember hearing it.”
“Then hear it now.” Peigi drew herself up. “Michael-Miguel of the changing name, in front of witnesses, I reject your mate claim!”
Her words rang through the trees, and the wind-touched leaves shimmered in response.
“He’s not a witness.” Michael pointed at Stuart in derision. “He’s Fae. And one of the dickwads who blew up my place. Yeah, I remember you.”
Stuart, who had been scanning the area during this exchange as though Michael didn’t exist, abruptly focused on him with the intensity only Stuart could.
“Your broken-down warehouse where you kept women and cubs imprisoned, you mean,” he said. “Plus captured and hurt my friends. I’d blow it up again if I could. I’m only sorry you weren’t caught in the blast.”
Peigi was pleased to see Michael regard Stuart with some wariness. She’d missed much of the fight above ground when Diego and Shane had stormed the compound, but she’d heard the story over and over. Xavier, Diego’s brother, especially loved to tell it. Stuart had saved Xavier’s life and had achieved the status of legend.
“Them’s the breaks.” Michael growled and fixed Stuart with a hard glare, as though trying to intimidate him. Then he broke off, eyes going wide. “Holy fucking crap—you scent-marked him.”
Stuart blinked, puzzled, but Peigi lifted her chin. “I did. Which means he’s under my protection.”
To her consternation, Michael only grinned. “That was a mistake, sweetheart. Because you know I can Challenge.”
“Not if he didn’t make a mate claim,” Peigi said quickly. “And he didn’t. I marked him to protect him from the Shifters in New Orleans.”
“And to stake your own claim,” Michael said, gaze knowing. “Shit, Peigi. I never knew you were into Fae.” He turned back to Stuart. “Okay, Fae dickhead, let us out of here.”
“I didn’t bring us in here.” Stuart studied their surroundings calmly. He could be cool in the face of screaming danger, assessing what needed to be done before he acted. That action was usually decisive and precise, taking out the danger in one swoop.
“But you’re Fae. So open the door or whatever. This place is a shithole.”
He was afraid, was Michael. He didn’t want to admit it, but Peigi could scent his growing anxiousness.
“I agree,” Stuart said. “But I didn’t make the door, so I don’t know where it is. Or where we are.” He scanned the trees surrounding them, straight and tall in the mist, lines of dark boles without much break.
“Jaycee said something about a sundial,” Peigi remembered. Conflicting feelings of rage and fear about Michael were coming at her in waves, but she had to put them aside to concentrate on getting herself and Stuart to safety.
“Sundial?” Michael gazed swiftly around. “What good is a sundial in the middle of the woods?”
“I don’t know.” Peigi felt brittle. “She said it pointed the way.” She closed her mouth before she mentioned the mysterious Lady Aisling Jaycee had talked about. Michael didn’t need to know about powerful Tuil Erdannan who might help them. Or not help them, as Ben had pointed out.
Stuart lightly sniffed the air. Peigi sniffed too, smelling cold and more cold.
“Snow’s coming.” Stuart gestured at the gray sky above the trees.
“And you without a heavy coat,” Peigi said. Stuart did have a jacket, but it was made for mild climates of the Southwest, and she wasn’t certain it would protect him from freezing.
Stuart sent her the ghost of a grin. “I’ll survive. I agree we need to figure out where we are. Anyone have a pin?”
“What the fuck for?” Michael demanded.
“I want to make a compass. It would be a start. I’ll also need a magnet.”
“There’s probably an app on your smart-ass phone,” Michael growled.
Stuart gave him a patient look. “I doubt the Fae have sent up any satellites in the past thousand years or so.”
A sound caught Peigi’s attention. She trained her Shifter hearing on it, never as good when she was in human form. Michael lifted his head, alert.
“Someone’s coming,” he growled. “Probably this one’s Fae friends.”
“Can you tell how many?” Stuart directed the question at Peigi.
“Let me shift.” Peigi turned around, toeing off her sneakers and sliding her jacket down her arms. “I can scent and hear better as bear.”
Michael was already stripping without embarrassment. He’d often gone without clothes for long stretches of time, believing Shifters didn’t need to bother with them. Of course, they’d been living in a warm place then, and Peigi had decided that Michael just liked to show off his body.
Peigi moved behind a set of close-growing trees to disrobe, not wanting Michael gawping at her. She folded her clothes carefully and set them and her shoes inside her coat, tying everything into a neat bundle.
Then she let her bear come.
The world grew brighter as more light entered her eyes, and sounds and scents flowed to her. She shook out her fur, fears falling away as her strength surged.
She returned to Stuart in a slow saunter, carrying her bundle of clothes in her mouth. She dropped the bundle at Stuart’s feet and rose on her back legs to scan the area. Michael, who’d already shifted to his huge brown bear, did the same.
Peigi lowered herself and became her between-beast, more bear than human. She didn’t like Stuart to see that part of her, but she could at least speak to him this way.
“Small party. One horse, others on foot.”
“What kind of Fae?” Stuart asked her.
Peigi sniffed again. “I can’t tell, but they don’t smell like you.” She wrinkled her nose, emitting a sudden growl, and Michael snarled beside her. “One is Shifter.”
Stuart’s brows rose, but he
said nothing. Michael continued to snarl, rage overcoming his fear.
Peigi returned to her bear form and circled Stuart, halting protectively before him. Any Shifter, Fae, or weapon would have to go through her to get to him.
Stuart shucked his jacket, his eyes taking on a feral gleam. “Anyone have any iron?”
Michael glared at him, his dark eyes as mean as ever. He rose into his between-beast. “Your belt buckle.”
Stuart touched it. “I think it’s nickel.”
Michael’s frown turned his bear face fearsome. “Mine’s stainless steel.”
“Might work.” Stuart walked without worry to Michael’s pile of clothes and pulled the belt from his jeans. He studied the buckle then with a sudden wrench, tore it free of the leather. “Close enough.”
Michael started at Stuart’s burst of strength, but he pretended to be unconcerned. “What are you going to do with it? Make your compass?”
Stuart didn’t bother to answer.
In the space of one breath and the next, Peigi sensed Stuart change from appendage dark Fae in a community of Shifters who didn’t really want him there to a warrior more powerful than Michael would ever understand. Stuart’s appearance didn’t alter in the slightest, but his stance grew stronger, more alert, Stuart poised to fight.
And he would enjoy it. The glint in his eyes as he wove his fingers through the belt buckle made Michael retreat a few paces.
Whatever came, Stuart’s expression said, he’d be ready to battle it into whimpering submission.
Peigi tried to stay in front of Reid as the brush beneath the trees parted and a Fae on a large horse, flanked by a black-maned lion, trotted through. Michael tried to get in front of him as well, not so much to protect Reid as to form a fighting stance with Peigi.
The horse clearly was not comfortable with the lion running by its side, shying to put distance between them. The lion, a Shifter, just as clearly knew that Reid, Peigi, and Michael had invaded his territory.
Behind the horse and rider were men on foot in various kinds of armor, from leather studded with silver rings to full chain mail, which would be silver or some kind of alloy. They carried bows and spears, knives on belts.
The rider wore a gleaming silver helmet and white cloak that sparkled in the mist, the fabric picking up and reflecting whatever light trickled through the trees. Reid’s lip curled in disgust.
The Fae was a prince or lordling—the kind who never soldiered but rode out hunting without bothering with camouflage. A true warrior wouldn’t have announced his presence until he was right on top of Reid and the bears.
The Fae circled his horse, pulling up in a sweep for effect. “Is this what you smelled?” he called down to the Shifter. “Two scruffy bears and a dokk alfar?” The Fae sneered at Reid, though Reid saw the worry in his eyes behind his silver helm. One never knew what a crazy dokk alfar would do.
He also obviously thought Reid an ordinary dokk alfar. Well, it sucked to be a Fae prince today.
Peigi and Michael hadn’t moved. The Fae spoke in the common Fae language, which neither would know. Reid found it interesting that the lion Shifter understood it. Meant he’d been in Faerie a while.
Reid called up to the prince. “Who’s your pet Battle Beast?”
The Fae skimmed a haughty gaze over Reid then Peigi and lingered on Michael. “Seems I’ve acquired two more Battle Beasts. And one dokk alfar that will be skinned and hanged.”
“The bears might have something to say about that,” Reid said calmly.
The Fae rose in his stirrups. “No. You say nothing.” He made an imperious gesture at his entourage. “Take them.”
The men around him, hunters not soldiers, weren’t thrilled that their master expected them to bring down two Shifters with their hunting knives. They weren’t as concerned about Reid, but that was their problem.
The hunters approached, obeying orders, some shucking their cumbersome bows to draw bronze or obsidian knives. Peigi and Michael drew together, not because Peigi liked or trusted Michael, but because the two of them would make a dense wall of bear. They must have done this sort of thing before, the thought flicked in the back of Reid’s mind, working as a team.
Reid’s only weapons were a belt buckle and his own fists. All he needed.
He vaulted across Peigi’s back and slammed the buckle into the jaw of the Fae unlucky enough to reach him first. The man screamed and recoiled, trying to grab at his face as though it burned him.
“Iron,” the next in line yelled in horror. “He’s got iron.”
Reid slammed his elbow into him. Reid’s energy, nearly spent from fighting the Shifters in New Orleans and accidentally teleporting himself, Peigi, and Michael into Faerie, came roaring back, as though the freezing air refreshed him. He spun and hit, driving the buckle into another’s face.
More screaming. The prince shouted in annoyance. “Kill him, damn you. You.” He pointed at his Shifter. “Take the bears.”
The lion went into a crouch, but hesitated, as any Shifter would when faced with two giant bears, one with his face half ravaged and growling ferociously. Felines possessed great agility, which made them a match for bears, but the odds were long against two of them. Reid left the lion to his fate and went straight for the prince.
Fae princes were the high Fae most hated by the dokk alfar. A general like Fionn Cillian had reasonable goals, skills, and an ability of command that elicited some respect. The princes, on the other hand, were spoiled, pampered beings, relatives of the hoch alfar emperor. They did nothing with their lives but hunt, have parties, debauch women, and kill whatever took their fancy. Even other hoch alfar didn’t like them.
The prince saw Reid coming. He drew a short sword, expertly turning his horse to meet the attack. Princes were spoiled, but also went through a lot of battle training in their loads of free time.
Reid didn’t bother fending off the sword. He tossed the buckle into the air and said a single word.
The buckle morphed and twisted, re-melding to become a narrow, sharp spear. It dove at the prince, who watched it come, mouth open. At the very last minute, the prince screamed and wrenched himself away from the projectile, falling out of the saddle.
Reid stopped the spear before it drove through the horse, which was an ordinary animal. Like an ordinary horse, as soon as the sharp object flashed close, it bolted.
Men scattered before the panicked horse, which streaked into the woods, scarlet draperies under the saddle flying. At that moment, the lion attacked.
It chose Peigi. Whether the lion sensed she was less dominant than Michael or chose at random, Reid didn’t know. Peigi rose to meet his charge without hesitation, and the two met in a snarling tangle.
Chapter Ten
The Feline fought hard and dirty. The lion wasn’t formidable like Dylan or his sons, but he was full grown, with a thick mane and ferocity in his golden eyes.
He’d attacked Peigi because he knew she was female and below Michael in hierarchy, the weaker of the pair. Or so he thought.
Peigi had been training with Nell for the past three years, and there wasn’t a thing that mama bear didn’t know about fighting. Sparring with an alpha grizzly on an almost daily basis had given Peigi skills she’d never dreamed she could acquire.
She brought her two giant bear paws together, slamming them into the lion’s head. The lion snarled and tried to jerk away from her grip, but Peigi held him fast.
Michael was fighting off the hunters, who’d decided to attack him en masse once the lion engaged with Peigi. And Stuart?
He laughed, his voice deep, as a weapon gleamed in his hand. He threw the pointed thing up in the air and shouted a command. The Fae rider, already running, turned as the spear left Stuart’s hand, terror on his face.
Peigi couldn’t see what happened after that, because the lion finally wrenched himself out of her hold and smacked her with Feline swiftness. Peigi rolled with his punch, grabbing the lion to pull him down with her.
&n
bsp; A bear’s disadvantage was size, Nell had taught her, which made rapid movement difficult—Felines could match fast movements and turn the tables. A bear’s advantage, on the other hand, was their size. Yep, same thing. So use it as hard as you can.
Peigi poured her weight onto the Feline, knowing he could slash her open with his claws, but not if she pinned him firmly enough. A brown bear didn’t have the size of a Kodiak, but the species were related. Peigi drew on her inner Kodiak and willed the lion to stay down.
Michael fought the rest of the hunters alone. One hung back, still screaming with pain from Stuart’s strike, but the rest went at Michael with mad intensity.
Under her, the lion went limp. Peigi didn’t trust him an inch. She wrapped her paw around his body and rolled him hard into the dirt and then stepped on him.
Don’t move. She snarled it as a bear, and couldn’t know whether the lion understood, but she didn’t care. He was Shifter—he’d get it. The lion was panting, blinking in pain. He shuddered and went still.
Peigi swung away and ran after Stuart, who’d sprinted into the woods following the lead Fae.
Michael roared behind her. Peigi glanced back to see the hunters converging on him. They’d kill him.
Peigi remembered all the times Michael had terrified her, and that was before his decision to lock her and the rest of the females and the cubs away. For their own safety, he’d said. He’d doubtless been right that they were safer away from the unstable feral Shifters in his makeshift group, but the days and nights in that fusty hole had never left her.
Michael deserved every smack he got, but that didn’t mean she wanted to see a Shifter go down under the bronze knives of ten Fae. They’d either make him a bearskin rug or enslave him as they had the lion.
Too bad I’m so nice.
She let out a bellow of frustration and charged the group.
The hunters who saw her coming decided that being anywhere but in front of a ton or so of bear was a good idea and ran. The others didn’t realize until too late, and were flung aside from her impact.
The lion decided that this was a great time to come out of his feigned surrender and go for Michael. The two Shifters met with a roar of mutual loathing, teeth and claws savaging. The lion got in a few good blows on Michael before Peigi grabbed him by the scruff.
Iron Master (Shifters Unbound Book 12) Page 9