Shadowfever f-5

by Karen Marie Moning

  19

  “You put them in a glass room? Can’t you give them a little privacy?” I stared at my parents through the wall. Although comfortably furnished with rugs, a bed, a sofa, a small table, and two chairs, the room was made of the same kind of glass as Ryodan’s office, only in reverse. Mom and Dad couldn’t see out, but everyone else could see in.

  I glanced to the left. The shower had an enclosure of sorts; the toilet didn’t. “Do they know people can see in?”

  “I spare their lives and you ask for privacy. This isn’t for you. Or them. It’s insurance for me,” Ryodan said.

  Barrons joined us. “I told Fade to bring up sheets and duct tape.”

  “For what?” I was horrified. Were they going to roll my parents up in sheets and duct-tape them?

  “They can tape sheets to the walls.”

  “Oh,” I said. “Thanks,” I muttered. I was silent a moment, watching them through the glass. Dad was sitting on the sofa, facing my mom, holding her hands, talking softly. He was robust and handsome as ever, and the extra silver in his hair only made him look more distinguished. Mom had that glazed look she got whenever she couldn’t deal, and I knew he was probably talking about normal, everyday things to ground her in a reality she could face. I had no doubt he was assuring her everything was going to be okay, because that was what Jack Lane did: exuded safety and security, made you believe he could deliver on anything he promised. It was what made him such a great lawyer, such a wonderful father. No obstacle had ever seemed too large, no threat too scary with Daddy around. “I need to talk to them.”

  “No,” Ryodan said.

  “Why?” Barrons demanded.

  I hesitated. I’d never told Barrons that I’d gone to Ashford with V’lane, or admitted that I’d overheard a conversation between my parents in which they’d been discussing the circumstances of our adoption, or that Daddy had mentioned a prophecy about me—one in which I supposedly ended up dooming the whole world.

  Nana O’Reilly—the ninety-seven-year-old woman whom Kat and I visited in her house by the sea—had mentioned two prophecies: one that promised hope, the other warning of a blight upon the earth. If I genuinely was part of either one, I was determined to fulfill the former. I wanted to know more about the latter so I could avoid it.

  I wanted the names of the people Daddy had spoken to all those years ago when he’d gone to Ireland to dig into Alina’s medical history when she was sick. I wanted to know exactly what they’d told him.

  But there was no way I could ask him about any of it in front of Barrons and Ryodan. If they got the smallest whiff of some prophecy in which I supposedly doomed the world, they might just lock me up and throw away the key.

  “I miss them. They need to know I’m alive.”

  “They know. I videoed you walking in, and Barrons showed them the clip.” Ryodan paused, then added, “Jack insisted on it.”

  I glanced sharply at Ryodan. Was that a faint smile on his face? He liked my father. I’d heard it in his voice when he called him Jack. He respected him. I glowed inside. I’m always proud of my daddy, but when somebody like Ryodan likes him … Even though I couldn’t stand the owner of Chester’s, I took it as a compliment.

  “Too bad you’re not really his daughter. He comes from strong blood.”

  I gave him a look I learned from Barrons.

  “But nobody’s sure exactly where you came from, are they, Mac?”

  “My biological mother was Isla O’Connor, leader of the Haven for the sidhe-seers,” I informed him coolly.

  “Really? Because I did some digging when Barrons told me what the O’Reilly woman said, and it turns out Isla had only one child, not two. Her name was Alina. And she’s dead.”

  “Obviously you didn’t dig deep enough,” I retorted. But I suddenly felt uneasy. So that was why Nana had called me Alina. “She must have had me later. Nana just didn’t know about it.”

  “Isla was the only member of the Haven who survived the night the Sinsar Dubh was set free from its prison.”

  “Where are you getting your information?” I demanded.

  “And there was no ‘later’ for her.”

  “How do you know that? What do you know about my mother, Ryodan?”

  Ryodan glanced at Barrons. The look they exchanged spoke volumes, but unfortunately I had no idea what language they were speaking.

  I glared at Barrons. “And you wonder why I don’t confide in you? You don’t tell me anything.”

  “Leave it alone. I’m handling this,” Barrons told Ryodan.

  “I suggest you do a better job.”

  “And I suggest you go fuck yourself.”

  “She didn’t tell you that the Book visited her the other night at Darroc’s. It skims her mind, picks up her thoughts.”

  “I think it only picks up the surface ones,” I said hastily. “Not everything.”

  “It killed Darroc because it learned from her that he knew a shortcut. Wonder what else it learned.”

  Barrons’ head whipped around and he stared at me. You said nothing of this to me?

  You said nothing to me about my mother? What do you know about her? About me?

  His dark gaze promised retribution for my oversight.

  So did mine.

  I hated this. Barrons and I were enemies. It confused my head and hurt my heart. I’d grieved him as if I’d lost the only person who mattered to me, and now here we were, adversaries again. Were we destined to be eternal enemies?

  One of us is going to have to trust the other, I told him.

  You first, Ms. Lane.

  That was the whole problem. Neither of us would take the risk. I had a lengthy list of reasons why I shouldn’t, and they were sound. My daddy could take the case all the way to the Supreme Court, arguing my side. Barrons didn’t inspire trust. He didn’t even bother trying.

  When hell freezes over, Barrons.

  Same bloody page, Ms. Lane. Same bloody—

  I turned my gaze away in the middle of his sentence, the ocular equivalent of flipping him the bird.

  Ryodan was watching us, hard.

  “Butt out,” I warned. “This is between him and me. All you need to do is keep my parents safe and—”

  “Little hard to do when you’re such a fucking loose cannon.”

  The door burst open, and Lor and two others stalked in. Tension rolled off them, so thick it seemed to suck the oxygen right out of the room.

  Fade followed behind them, carrying a pile of sheets and a roll of duct tape.

  “You’re never going to believe what just walked into the club,” Lor told Ryodan. “Tell me to change. Say the word.”

  My eyes narrowed. Did Lor need Ryodan’s permission? Or was it a courtesy in his club?

  “The Sinsar Dubh, right?” Ryodan gave Barrons a pointed look. “Because it skimmed Mac’s mind and now it knows where to find us.”

  “You are so frigging paranoid, Ryodan. Why would it even want to find you?” I said.

  “Maybe,” one of the other men said, “we’d make a damned good ride for it, and we don’t like being used.”

  “Have you taught her nothing of strategy?” Ryodan fired at Barrons.

  “I haven’t had all that much time,” Barrons said.

  “A Seelie. A fucking prince,” Lor said. “He’s got a couple hundred more Seelie from a dozen different castes waiting outside. Threatening war. Demanding you shut the place down, stop feeding the Unseelie.”

  I gasped. “V’lane?”

  “You told him to come!” Ryodan accused.

  “She knows him?” Lor exploded.

  “It’s her other boyfriend,” Ryodan said.

  “Besides Darroc?” one of the other men demanded.

  Lor glared at Barrons. “When are you going to wise up and shut this bitch down for good?”

  The testosterone level was rising to a dangerous high. I suddenly worried they might all transform into beasts. I’d be stuck in the middle of a pack of snarling mon
sters with talons and fangs and horns, and I didn’t think for one minute Barrons’ brand would protect me from the other five. I wasn’t even sure it would work on him.

  “You think it’s the Seelie you need to be worrying about?” said Fade.

  “What the fuck do you think we should be worrying about?” Barrons said impatiently.

  Fade swung his gun up and pumped a half dozen rounds into Barrons before anyone even managed to move. “Me.”

  20

  The only reason it worked was because Fade caught him off guard. Barrons can move so fast that shooting him isn’t the easiest way to kill him.

  But he didn’t expect Fade to shoot him, and Fade is as fast as Barrons.

  I don’t know what Barrons and the others are, but until someone tells me otherwise, I’m going to assume they’re all the same. They have heightened senses: smell, vision, and hearing. Barrons has the strength of ten men, and his bones are extremely resilient. I imagine they have to be, so he can transform the way he does. I’ve watched Barrons drop thirty feet and land on his feet, as light as a cat.

  Fade surprised them all. He managed to gun down Ryodan, too, before the others attacked him and took his gun away.

  Fade stumbled back against the wall, and I thought how strange it was that he’d lost his weapon but was still hanging on to the sheets.

  “What the fuck, Fade?” Lor snarled. “Forget your meds again?”

  Fade looked at me. “Your parents are next,” he purred. “I will destroy everything you love, MacKayla.”

  I sucked in a horrified breath. Ryodan wasn’t paranoid. He’d been right. The Sinsar Dubh had skimmed me, lifted information about them from my mind, and acted on it swiftly.

  It was right here—in the room with me!

  It had learned about Chester’s and had come to take a look around, see what it might see.

  I’d been out of the Silvers for three days—and this was the third day in a row it had found me!

  Was it really my fault that it had gone to the abbey because it hadn’t been able to find me in Dublin? Was I indirectly responsible for all the sidhe-seers who’d died that night? How long had it been here, moving from person to person, working its way closer to me all the while?

  Long enough to have discovered my parents—

  “It’s in the sheets,” I cried. “Get the sheets!” I regretted the words the instant I said them. Whoever touched it would also be possessed, and the other men still had guns. “No, don’t touch the sheets!” I screamed.

  Fade flashed into motion and was gone.

  The others followed, leaving me alone.

  I dashed for the door, but it slid shut before I could get there, and I had no clue how to open it. I pressed my palm frantically to half a dozen places, with no success.

  I whirled, staring into the other room. If the Sinsar Dubh got to my parents … if Fade carried it in there … if it killed them …

  I couldn’t bear to think about it.

  My parents were standing up, looking at me, but I knew they couldn’t see me. They were merely staring in the direction from which the gunfire had come.

  The door hissed open and closed behind me.

  “I have to get you out of here,” Lor growled.

  I spun around, spear in my fist. “How do I know you’re not the Book?”

  “Look at me. Where could I hide it?”

  His pants and shirt clung to his muscular body like a second skin. I checked his shoes. Boots. “Take them off.”

  He kicked them off. “Now you. Lose the coat.”

  I slipped out of it.

  “Skirt, too.”

  “We don’t have time for this,” I snapped. “My parents—”

  “Fade left the club. They’re safe for now.”

  “That’s not good enough!”

  “We’ll take precautions. We’re on guard now. Someone has to carry it in. No one will enter the upper levels of the club or your parents’ cell with clothes on.”

  My brows shot up. That was going to be a real shocker for my mom.

  “I said lose the skirt.”

  “How could Fade have passed it to me?”

  “Minuscule possibility. I take no chances.”

  Sighing, I unzipped and dropped it. My sweater was snug. I had on a black thong. My boots clung to the shape of my legs. No place to hide a book. “Happy?”

  “Hardly.”

  As I zipped my skirt back up, I took a last longing glance at my parents and turned away. My gaze hitched as it passed over Barrons’ crumpled body, and I flinched violently.

  Here I was with Barrons dead. Again.

  I knew he wasn’t really dead, or at least he wouldn’t be for long, but my grief was too fresh and my emotions too complicated.

  “How long until he—” I broke off, horrified to hear the catch of a sob in my voice.

  “Why do you give a fuck?”

  “I don’t, I mean, I just—shit!” I turned and beat at the wall with my fists. I didn’t care that my parents could hear the dull thud or that the wall shuddered beneath my blows. I didn’t care what Lor thought of me. I hated Barrons being dead. Hated it. Beyond reason. Beyond my understanding.

  I punched until Lor caught my bloody fists and pulled me away.

  “How long?” I demanded. “I want to know! Answer me or else!”

  He grinned faintly. “What, you gonna feed me bloody runes?”

  I scowled. “Do you guys tell each other everything?”

  “Not everything. Pri-ya sounded pretty fucking fascinating to me. Never did get all the details.”

  “How long? Answer me.” I used Voice to force him.

  “Not sure this time. But it won’t be as long as last time. And if you ever try to Voice me again, woman, I’ll kill your parents myself.”

  21

  “What must a prince do to get a Valentine’s Day kiss, MacKayla?”

  The words floated out of the darkness, Eros skittering across my skin, pricking me with a hundred tiny little Cupid bows. Even with Pri-ya-induced immunity, I still thrill to the musical, sensual sound of V’lane’s voice. I no longer begin stripping when he appears, but deep down inside me there’s a summer girl who never stops wanting to, especially when he’s being playful, seductive.

  How many Valentine’s Days in my life had ended with a kiss?

  I could count them on two fingers.

  And those had been decent kisses, not great ones. Certainly nothing to rock a woman’s world.

  I paused with my hand on the doorknob of Barrons Books and Baubles. Barrons had changed the locks on the garage and the back door, so I’d had to park the Viper in the alley and walk around to the front. It had been a difficult night. I was ready for it to end. I wanted covers over my head and deep, dreamless sleep.

  Mere hours ago I’d been consoling myself that, even though Barrons was furious with me, at least I would be going to sleep tonight with the comforting knowledge that he was alive.

  Right. Happy Valentine’s Day to me.

  “I believe human males present flowers.”

  I was abruptly wreathed in the delicate scent of roses. A bouquet appeared, tucked into my arm. Petals tickled my nose. The ground at my feet was strewn with them. Dewy, lush, they gave off an otherworldly, spicy scent.

  I leaned my forehead against the diamond-paned cherry door. I could see my demolished shop through it. “Did you come here to accuse me of being a traitor, too?” It would be just like a Fae to shower me with gifts while threatening me. I was through justifying myself. Seeing Barrons’ lifeless eyes again had nearly put me back on the cliff’s edge. I had no idea why I hated seeing him dead so much, when I knew he wasn’t really. Lor had assured me he would be back, although he couldn’t say when. Why couldn’t he say when? Did Barrons’ body have to heal, and certain injuries took longer than others?

  I couldn’t get the image out of my mind. Now I had two visions of Barrons to torture myself with: gutted and shot. On top of that, I was terrifie
d for my parents. Terrified by how easily the Book had infiltrated those closest to me. First the abbey, then Darroc, Barrons, and now a threat to my parents. I could no longer dispute Ryodan’s conviction that the Book was finding me. Playing with me. But why not just kill me and get it over with? Did it really think I would—as Ryodan said—“flip”? Nothing about the Sinsar Dubh made sense. Sometimes it gave me a splitting, crushing headache and I could sense it coming a mile away. Other times, like tonight, I didn’t have a clue it was in the same room with me.

  It killed everyone else it came into contact with. But not me. It hurt me, but it always left me alive. Why?

  I’d demanded Lor remove Mom and Dad from Dublin. He’d refused to even consider it. Said nobody would lift a finger unless Barrons told them to. So much for their demands for my head—apparently Barrons had the final say about everything.

  I could always persuade V’lane to sift in, get them, and whisk them somewhere safe, except … well, maybe it was the sidhe-seer in my blood, but I just couldn’t trust my parents to a Fae.

  “I am not a fool, MacKayla. You were playing Darroc. My only question is why.”

  A weight slid from my shoulders. It was about time somebody believed in me. Figured it would be V’lane. “Thank you,” I said simply.

  I turned around and my eyes widened appreciatively. V’lane is always a vision. He’d muted himself, donned his “human” form, but it did little to diminish his otherworldly allure. In black pants, boots, and a black cashmere sweater, with his long hair spilling down his back and his velvety skin dusted with gold, he looked like a fallen archangel.

  Tonight, he was even more majestic than ever. I wondered if leading a Seelie army had given him purpose he’d lacked, if he was no longer an immortal riddled with ennui and petty desires but was becoming a true leader of his people. He would have his hands full trying to lead the Seelie court. Perhaps if Jayne and the Guardians shot and caged enough of them, they’d pull their heads out. A little hardship and suffering would do the Seelie a world of good.