“I will appear when you have given me your show of good faith.”
“Which is?”
“I choose to let you keep it. You choose to sheathe it. We will honor each other with trust and confidence.”
“Not a chance in hell.”
“I am not the only one that has some explaining to do. How did you bring the queen out through the king’s mirror?”
“Let me tell you what I don’t understand. Last Halloween I got raped by Unseelie Princes. You told me you were busy carrying your queen to safety on human feet. But now I know the queen had been in the Unseelie prison for—how did you word it?—many human years. Where were you really that night, V’lane?”
He materialized in front of me, a dozen feet away.
“I did not lie to you. Not entirely. I told you I could not be in two places at once, and that much was true. However, I misspoke when I said I was carrying my queen to safety. Instead, I was taking advantage of those hours, searching for her in Darroc’s Silvers. I was certain he was behind her disappearance. I believed he had imprisoned her in one of the stolen mirrors at LaRuhe, but I could not search those Silvers until the magic of the realms was neutralized. When I crushed his dolmen for you—which we rebuilt, and I succeeded in retrieving Christian only last night, or I would have come to explain myself sooner—I endeavored to search them then. But Darroc had learned much from journals stolen from the White Mansion, and I was unable to break his wards.”
“You spent the night I was getting raped searching his house and finding nothing?”
“A regrettable decision only because it did not yield fruit. I was certain she was there. If she had been, it would have been worth it. As it was, when I discovered what had transpired, I felt …” He lowered his lids over his eyes, leaving only a thin band of silver glittering beneath his lashes. “I felt.” His mouth shaped a bitter smile. “It was untenable. Fae do not feel. Certainly not the queen’s first prince. I tasted envy of my dark brethren for knowing you in a way I never would. I choked on rage that they harmed you. I grieved the loss of something of incomparable measure I could never have again. Is that not human regret? I felt …” He inhaled slow and deep, then blew it out. “Shame.”
“So you say.”
The smile twisted. “For the first time in my existence, I wanted to experience a temporary oblivion. I was unable to make my thoughts obey me. They wandered of their own accord to matters that were hellish to suffer. I was unable to make them stop. It made me want to stop. Is that love, MacKayla? Is that what it does to you? Why, then, do humans long for it?”
I jerked, remembering a moment when I’d considered stretching on the ground next to Barrons and bleeding out next to him.
“I am tired of being in impossible positions. For an eternity, my first allegiance has been to my queen. Without her, my race is doomed. There is no successor to her throne. There is none worthy or capable of leading my people. I could not choose to help you over attempting to recover her. My emotions, to which I had no right, could not be permitted to interfere. For too long I have been all that stands between peace and war.” He locked gazes with me. “Unless …”
“Unless what?”
“Still you point that spear at me.”
I stalked toward him, drawing my spear arm back.
He vanished.
He spoke behind me. “Could it be you are becoming like us?”
I whirled, eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”
“Are you becoming Fae, in the way some long ago were born? I suspect the young Druid also suffers birth pains. It is a most unexpected development.”
“And unwelcome.”
“That remains to be seen.”
Was that his breath at my ear, his lips against my hair?
“It’s unwelcome to me! I’m not going to become one of you. Get it out. I don’t want it.”
I felt his hands on my waist, sliding lower, over my ass. “Immortality is a gift. Princess.”
“I’m not a princess and I’m not turning Fae.”
“Not yet perhaps. But you are something, are you not? I wonder what. I weary of watching Barrons piss circles around you. I tire of waiting for the day you will finally look at me and see that I am so much more than a Fae and a prince. I am a male. With hunger for you that knows no bottom. You and I, more than anyone else in the universe, are perfect for each other.”
He was half a dozen feet away, facing me, looking down into my eyes.
“I do not wish to continue like this. I am divided and know no peace. Pride has prevented me from speaking plainly. No more.”
He vanished and reappeared right in front of me, so close I could see a shimmer of rainbows in his iridescent eyes.
The spear was between us.
I tightened my hand on the hilt. He closed his over mine, pointed the spear at his chest, and leaned into me. I could feel him, rock hard and ready, against me. He was breathing fast and shallow, eyes glittering.
“Accept me or kill me, MacKayla. But choose. Just fucking choose.”
35
The last time I talked with my mom in person was on August 2, the day I said good-bye and caught a plane for Dublin. We’d fought bitterly about my going to Ireland. She hadn’t wanted to lose a second daughter to what she’d called “that cursed place.” At the time, I thought she was being melodramatic. Now I know she had reason to believe she should never have let Alina go and was terrified to see me follow. I’ve hated that our last words spoken face-to-face were harsh. Although I’ve spoken to her on the phone since then, it’s not the same.
I saw Daddy three weeks later, when he came to BB&B looking for me. Barrons Voiced him to make him go home and planted subliminal commands to prevent him from returning to Ireland. They worked. Daddy went to the airport several times to come back for me but couldn’t make himself get on a plane.
I saw them both again two weeks after Christmas, when I’d surfaced from being Pri-ya and V’lane had taken me to Ashford to show me that he’d helped restore my hometown and was keeping my folks safe.
I hadn’t talked to them then. I’d crouched in the bushes behind my house and watched them on the lanai, talking about me and how I was supposedly going to doom the world.
I’d seen them both when Darroc was holding them captive. They’d been gagged and bound.
Then I’d seen them here, at Chester’s, on the night the Sinsar Dubh took control of Fade and killed Barrons and Ryodan, but that was only through a glass pane.
Chronologically, it had been nine months since they’d seen me. With the time I’d lost in Faery, being Pri-ya, and in the Silvers, it felt more like three months to me, albeit the longest, most crammed-full three months of my life.
I wanted to see them. Now. Although I hadn’t accepted V’lane the way he’d wanted me to, I hadn’t stabbed him, either, which turned out to be fortuitous, because he’d finally gotten around to telling me that we were all supposed to meet at Chester’s today at noon to iron out our plans to capture the Book. He’d been dispatched as a sifting messenger to round everyone up.
I decided my errands could wait. Knowing that we were so close to making a serious attempt at capturing the Book had filled me with urgency to see Mom and Dad before the big meeting. Before the ritual. Before anything else in my life could go wrong. Personal identity crisis aside, they were my parents and always would be. If I’d lived before as someone or something else, that life had paled in comparison to this one.
I blasted into Chester’s, sailed coolly through the bars, which were depressingly packed so early in the day, and headed for the stairs. I had no desire to talk to any of the cryptic denizens of the club.
At the foot of the stairs, Lor and a massively muscled man with long white hair, pale skin, and burning eyes moved together, blocking my way.
I was debating what I might have in my deep glassy lake to use—Barrons had slurped down my crimson runes like truffles—when Ryodan called down, “Let her up.”
I tipped my head back. The urbane owner of the largest den of sex, drugs, and exotic thrills in the city stood behind the chrome balustrade, big hands closed on the chrome railing, thick wrists cuffed by silver, features darkened by a convenient shadow. He looked like a scarred Gucci model. Whatever kind of life these men had lived before they’d become whatever they were, it had been violent and hard. Like them.
“Why?” Lor demanded.
“I said so.”
“Not time for the meeting yet.”
“She wants to see her parents. She’s going to insist.”
“So?”
“She thinks she has something to prove. She’s feeling pushy.”
“Gee, this is nice. I don’t even have to talk,” I purred. I was feeling pushy. Ryodan brought out the worst in me. Like Rowena, he’d prejudged me.
“You ooze emotion today. Emotional humans are unpredictable, and you’re more unpredictable than most to begin with. Besides,” Ryodan sounded amused, “Jack’s building up immunity to Barrons’ Voice. He’s been demanding to see you. Said he’ll take the queen hostage if we don’t bring you to him. I don’t worry about the queen’s safety. Rainey likes her, and Jack likes anything Rainey likes. But I have concerns he might debate us to death.”
I smiled faintly. If anyone could win, it was my daddy. I pushed past Lor, clipping him with my shoulder. His arm shot out like a bar across my neck and stopped me.
“Look at me, woman,” Lor growled.
I turned my head and met his gaze coolly.
“If he tells you anything about us, we’ll kill you. Do you understand that? One word, you die. So if you’re walking around feeling cocky and protected because Barrons likes to fuck you, think again. The more he likes to do you, the more likely it is that one of us will kill you.”
I looked up at Ryodan.
The owner of Chester’s nodded.
“Nobody killed Fiona.”
“She was a doormat.”
I pushed the arm away from my neck. “Get out of my way.”
“I would suggest you cure him of his little problem if you want to survive,” Lor said.
“Oh, I’ll survive.”
“The farther away from him you get, the safer you are.”
“Do you want me to find the Book or not?”
Ryodan answered. “We don’t give a fuck if the Book is out there. Or that the walls are down. Times change, we go on.”
“Then why are you helping with the ritual? V’lane said Barrons asked you and Lor to handle the other stones.”
“For Barrons. But if he breathes one word about himself, you’re dead.”
“I thought he was the boss of you guys.”
“He is. He made the rules we live by. We’ll still take you from him.”
Take you from him. Sometimes I was so dense. “And he knows that.”
“We’ve had to do it before,” Lor said. “Kasteo hasn’t said a word to us since. I say get over it already. It’s been a thousand fucking years. What’s a woman worth?”
I inhaled slow and deep as the full ramifications of what they’d just told me sunk in. This was why Barrons never answered any of my questions and never would. He knew what they would do to me if he told me—whatever they’d done to Kasteo’s woman a thousand years ago. “You don’t need to worry about it. He hasn’t told me anything.”
“Yet,” Lor said.
“But more importantly,” I said, looking up at Ryodan, “I won’t ask. I don’t need to know.” I realized it was true. I was no longer obsessed with having a name and an explanation for Jericho Barrons. He was what he was. No name, no reasons, would alter anything about him. Or how I felt.
“So every woman has said at some point. Are you familiar with the tale of Bluebeard?”
Sure. He’d asked only one thing of his wives: that they never look in the forbidden room upstairs—where he kept the bodies of all the wives before them, whom he’d killed for looking in the forbidden room upstairs. “Bluebeard’s wives didn’t have a life.” I studied him. They were all so controlled, so hard and ruthless. “How many have you taken from one another? So many that you hate the sight of one another? Has the merry band of brothers become a walking, talking, immortal Cold War?”
His face hardened. “Strip if you’re coming up.”
I gave him a look. “I have on skintight clothes.”
“Non-negotiable. All of it. Nothing but skin.”
Lor folded his arms, leaned back against the staircase, and laughed. “She’s got a great ass. If we’re lucky, she’s wearing a thong.”
The white-haired man rumbled with laughter.
“You’ve never made anyone strip before,” I said.
“New rules.” Ryodan smiled.
“I’m not—”
“Seeing your parents if you don’t,” he cut me off.
“I don’t want to see them if I have to be naked. My mother would never recover.”
He held up a short robe.
“You planned this.” The prick.
“Told you. New rules. Can’t be too careful with the queen here.”
He didn’t think I’d do it. He was wrong.
Bristling, I kicked off my shoes, tugged my shirt over my head, skinned off my jeans, popped my bra, and stripped off my thong. Then I put my shoulder holster back on, tucked my spear into it, and walked up the stairs naked. I put a little jiggle in my walk and held his gaze the whole time.
At the top, Ryodan practically accosted me with the short robe. I looked back at Lor and the other guard. They were both staring at me. Neither of them was laughing anymore.
The second floor of Chester’s smelled good. I cocked my head, sniffing. Perfume and … cooking? Was there a kitchen up here?
Three women popped out of a wall, talking and laughing, carrying covered dishes, then vanished behind another hissing panel. I was piqued. They knew how to open and close the doors and I didn’t.
Ryodan thrust my clothes at me. “The Keltar women are out of control. They cook. They chatter. They laugh. Idiots.”
I looked at him. He was already stalking away. It was all I could do not to laugh. I stepped to the side of the hall and dressed as I watched him disappear into one of the glass-paneled rooms.
When I began walking again, Lor moved into step beside me. I didn’t like the way he was looking at me—with the hot, fixed gaze of an intensely sexual man who’d seen me naked and jiggling and wasn’t about to forget it soon.
“Jack and Rainey are down here.” He turned left in the honeycomb of glass and chrome, down a hallway I hadn’t even realized was there. The reflective glass walls created a hall-of-mirrors illusion. Chester’s was even larger on the second floor than I’d thought.
“You moved them.”
“Needed a place we could ward better, with the queen here.”
Ahead, Drustan and Dageus were standing in the hallway, talking to a—I stared. Fae? I wasn’t getting a Fae read off him. What was he? Long black hair, gold-dust skin, loads of charisma. Fae but not Fae.
As we approached, I heard Dageus say impatiently, “All we’re asking is that you confirm she’s truly Aoibheal. You were her favorite for five thousand years, Adam. You know her better than any of us. She’s wasted and weak and, though we’re fair certain it’s her, we’d be resting easier if we heard it from one who was once her right hand.”
“I’m mortal, Gab’s pregnant, and I’m not dying in a bloody Fae war. This isn’t my battle. This isn’t my life anymore.”
“We’re only asking you confirm it’s her. We’ll have V’lane sift you out of here—”
“You tell that fuck I’m here, you won’t get a thing from me. No one is to know I’m in Ireland. Not a single Fae. Got it?”
“You believe they’d still hunt you?”
“They have long memories, the queen is weak, and I was never their favorite. Some of them don’t drink from the cauldron as often as I’d like. One look. I’ll confirm it for you, but then I’m out of here. Don’t
come looking for me again.”
Dageus said coolly, “You had the chance to kill Darroc. You made him mortal instead.”
Adam’s dark eyes glittered. “I knew one of you bastards would try to blame me for what happened. I let him live. Humans let Hitler live. I’m not responsible for the destruction of a third of the world’s population.”
“Be damned glad none of the casualties were Keltar, or we’d be hunting you ourselves.”
“Don’t threaten me, Highlander. I wasn’t called the sin siriche du for nothing, and I didn’t go native without taking precautions. I still have a few tricks up my sleeve. I’ve got my own clan to protect.”
I stared at him as we passed. Suddenly his head whipped around and he stared straight back at me, eyes narrowed. His gaze followed me until I’d passed.
“Who’s she?” I heard him ask.
“One of the queen’s chosen, it seems. She can track the Book.”
“I bet she can,” Adam murmured.
I looked sharply over my shoulder and began to turn around. I wanted to know why he’d said that.
Lor’s hand clamped around my arm. “Keep walking. Visiting hours at Chester’s … well, for you, there aren’t any.”
He stopped at the far end of the hall in front of a smooth wall of glass that was heavily painted with smoky runes and pressed his palm to the panel. As the door slid aside, I looked down and saw that the floor was covered with more runes.
“If you tire of Barrons.” His cold eyes fixed on my face. “Assuming you survive.”
I shot him a look of mock astonishment. “Will wonders never cease? Lor’s idea of a proposition. Somebody catch me while I swoon.”
“Charm takes energy better spent fucking. I prefer a club over the head.” He turned and began to walk away.
I rolled my eyes and, squaring my shoulders, stepped over the runes.
Or rather I tried to step over the runes.
They repelled me violently, and every alarm in the building went off.
“I’m not carrying the Book! You saw me naked. Get off me!”
Shadowfever f-5 Page 37