Dark Enchantment

by Anya Bast

  The rise of the Phaendir god, Labrai, had caused murderous fervor in the Phaendir. Through His prophet, Bedwyr, Labrai had told His people that the fae needed to be cleansed from the earth. War erupted when the Phaendir attacked the main fae stronghold in Ireland.

  But the Phaendir got the worst end of the deal.

  Even though they’d taken the fae by surprise, the Phaendir lost badly. The images in her mind’s eye showed them dead and bloody all through the forested area and the system of caves where so many of the fae lived. Of course, she knew that the Phaendir had eventually accomplished their major goal in the fifteen hundreds, during the fae wars and the onset of Watt Syndrome. But in this part of history, they really got their asses handed to them.

  Charlotte and Risa saw all of this through the eyes of Saraid, one of Charlotte’s ancestors who had the same inky black hair and hazel eyes.

  After the Phaendir were beaten back and the bodies collected, the object of power, the bosca fadbh, a magickal thing that had been created jointly by the fae and the Phaendir back in the days when the races had been allies, was removed from its hiding place. It was decided by the Seelie Queen and the Unseelie King that the puzzle box should be taken apart and hidden all over the world so the Phaendir could not use it against them.

  Meetings were held between only seven fae: the Summer Queen and her chosen, the Unseelie King and his chosen, and one representative each from the troop, wilding, and sea fae. Saraid, a valued member of the Seelie Court because of her ability to procreate, sat in on all these meetings as the Summer Queen’s choice.

  One piece of the bosca fadbh was buried deep in the side of a mountain. Charlotte assumed this was the piece that Ronan Quinn had eventually stolen from a government facility at the request of the Phaendir, and then smuggled into Piefferburg.

  One piece was put into a charmed box that could only be opened by a fae using a charmed key. The box was sunk to the bottom of the Mediterranean Ocean near the ruins of Alit Yam off the coast of the country that was now Israel. This was the piece Emmaline had retrieved.

  The final piece was hidden by Saraid, her very own ancestor, and only Saraid had known its location. This piece was also charmed. Charlotte’s breathing quickened as she learned of the spell put on the final piece. It was stuck in a massive hunk of stone in . . .

  “Charlotte!”

  Charlotte’s eyes came open to see the silver flash of a knife coming down toward her chest. Instinctively, she flinched away, squishing herself as far from the blade as she could, up against the cushions of the couch. The knife sliced through her upper arm. She felt nothing at first, only shock at both the blade and Risa’s face twisted with hatred. Then blinding pain exploded and blood gushed from the wound.

  Kieran grabbed Risa, wrenching her to the side and snatching the knife away. Four strange men burst into the small house and Aeric turned toward them, ready to fight.

  Charlotte gripped her upper arm, a river of blood streaming between her fingers. God, there was so much of it. Her arm was laid open . . . glistening red. She knew she had to get up and fight. There were too many bad guys in here, not enough good guys. She tried to stand, sat back down. Her vision wavered, the world went white, whiter.

  Gone.

  TWENTY

  CHARLOTTE woke in a dark, unfamiliar room with low, male voices emanating from beyond the closed door. The memory of what had been happening right before she’d passed out slammed into her. Panic made her heart rate ratchet into the stratosphere.

  There had been five bad guys and only two good guys, since her butt had been passed out on the couch from blood loss. Who had been victorious? Had the bad guys won? Had she been kidnapped . . . again?

  Was Kieran dead?

  She moved her injured arm and winced. Someone had bandaged it. Well, that was an argument against having been kidnapped. Somehow Charlotte doubted bad guys would have taken the time to dress the wound they’d inflicted.

  She shook her head, still unable to believe that Risa had tried to kill her.

  Pushing away the deep grief she felt at having someone she’d trusted attack her, she glanced around the room for weapons to use. She didn’t know what the hell was going on, but she wasn’t going to take any chances.

  Glimpsing a long iron poker near the fireplace, she rolled quietly off the bed, ignoring the twinge of pain in her arm, picked it up, and snuck over to the door. She’d seen enough movies to know how this was done. Stand and wait until someone opened the door, then clobber him over the head and escape. The flaw in her plan was that her right arm hurt like hell and did not want to wield an iron poker.

  Someone finally opened the door. She brought her poker down, but Kieran caught it before it could make contact. His eyebrows rose in appreciation. “Nice, Charlotte.”

  She lowered her weapon and let out a sigh of relief. “Thank God.”

  He eased the poker from her fingers. “You’re bleeding. I hope you didn’t pull your stitches out.” He led her to sit down on the bed.

  She glanced at her arm, seeing the slow red seep of blood through the bandage. “I figured I was with friends since someone had bandaged my wound, but I didn’t want to take the chance.” She swallowed hard, feeling horrible for a moment as the grief rushed back. She felt betrayed. Violated. “What happened? Where’s Risa?”

  “Risa is tied up and unconscious. We’ll bring her back to the Black Tower with us.” Kieran’s voice sounded rough and his eyes had gone violently dark. “Little did we fucking know we were bringing the enemy down here with us.”

  “What about those other guys who rushed in right before I passed out? What happened to them?”

  He undid the last of her bandage with hands much, much gentler than the look on his face. He didn’t answer her and he didn’t need to. They were dead.

  She swallowed hard. “Left the cottage in kind of a mess.”

  A muscle worked in his jaw as he examined her wound. “I don’t think we’ll get our deposit back.”

  “What are you planning to do with Risa?”

  He gave her a grim look. “Get what we haven’t been able to get from anyone else who has attacked you. Answers.”

  “Has she revealed anything yet?”

  He shook his head. “That’s why we’re taking her back to the Black. There are people there who are very good at that. You didn’t pull your stitches, but be careful how you move, okay?”

  She nodded, wincing as he cleaned up her arm with some supplies on the table near the bed and bandaged her back up again.

  Then he knelt in front of her, his warm, strong hands on her thighs. “You need to tell me where the piece is. You and Risa are the only two people with this information.”

  She frowned and rubbed her temple with the hand of her uninjured arm, trying her best to recount the mess of maternal memory in her head. “The last piece of the bosca fadbh is embedded in a large phallic-looking hunk of stone that was special in some way. It supposedly is able to select fae rulers by . . . singing?” She shook her head. “It’s somewhere in Ireland. I’m sorry, I don’t know where and I can’t tell you anything more specific. I could draw you a picture of the rock, if you wanted. I can still see it in my head—”

  “It’s the Lia Fáil, the fae coronation stone. It’s been moved from its original location, but now it stands for tourists in Tara, Ireland. Teamhair.” He shook his head. “I’ve seen Lia Fáil and there’s nothing resembling a chunk of iron stuck in it.”

  “I don’t know, but that’s what I saw in the memory.”

  “Okay. It must be there somehow.” He rubbed his hand over his mouth. “Too bad it couldn’t conveniently be hidden somewhere in Piefferburg. Instead, it’s wedged in stone, in one of Ireland’s busy tourist locales. Fantastic.”

  “There’s more.” She drew a breath to tell him the worst part.

  “What?”

  “The piece is spelled.”

  “I’m not surprised considering the last two pieces were also charmed. The fir
st could never be touched by Phaendir, which is partly the reason the Phaendir enlisted Ronan Quinn to help them get it. The second was locked in a charmed box. Do you know how this piece is spelled?”

  She held his gaze for a long moment, not wanting to reveal this information. It hit far too close to home. “The piece is embedded in stone and can only be drawn out by a human.” She drew a breath. “A lost human who has found her way, dying for the love of a fae.”

  Kieran held her gaze, his eyes growing bleak and distant. “Really.”

  “Yes.”

  He stood and turned away from her. “Fuck.”

  Charlotte said nothing. She only stared at the edge of the area rug that lay partially under the bed. What could she say? That maybe she was the human meant to pull the piece? She still didn’t believe Kieran would ever fall in love with her.

  And if he ever did . . . well, that was bad.

  The spell probably had nothing to do with her at all. It was just a coincidence that she was a human involved with a man who had a love curse on him.

  She swallowed hard. “Tough break, right? Where will the fae ever find a human to fit that bill?”

  He didn’t answer her.

  “So, am I out of this yet? You got the information. Can I go home?”

  Kieran stayed where he was, his shoulders tight and his head bowed. “I wish I could let you leave right now, Charlotte, but, no. You can’t go yet.”

  “Why not? I’ve—”

  He rounded on her. “You can’t go. Not yet. Your fate is for the queen to decide, not me.” The words came out on a snarl and he stalked out of the room.

  GIDEON woke in the middle of the night to a face hovering close to his own, a beautiful, pale oval in the moonlight framed by a fall of bloodred hair. Yelping, he scrambled backward on his narrow bed, tangled himself in the blankets, and fell off the other side.

  A clear, attractive tinkling laugh filled his bedroom. The laugh of a fae.

  He pushed to his feet. “Máire.”

  She tipped her head to the side and smiled, her teeth bright and sharp in the half-light of the room. “Hello, Gideon.”

  “How did you get in here?”

  “What a question.” She shrugged. “I’m fae.”

  “What the hell do you want?” he snarled. He was not ever in the mood to play games, especially with a fae, but right now it was particularly unwelcome.

  She only grinned, and then crawled across the bed toward him, her hips rolling. Her tongue stole out to wet her lips. “I thought you might be able to tell by now.”

  His stomach roiled. “I don’t touch the fae. I certainly won’t fuck one. Go whore yourself somewhere else.” He turned to leave the room. She still had information he needed, but he wasn’t going to dance this dance with her.

  She appeared directly in front of him, blocking the door. He jerked back, startled. “Sorry. I never told you my particular brand of magick, did I?”

  Rage surged through him. He could feel the veins in his head stand out. “Get out of my way.” Normally when others saw him in this condition, so very angry, they immediately backed off. Máire seemed nonplussed.

  She reached out and touched the top of his button-down pajama top. “I’m not asking for love, or for you to marry me. I’m asking for one night, Gideon. Just one.” Her gaze strayed to the cat-o’-nine-tails curled so seductively on his nightstand. It was the one he used at home for his worship. “I would make it so much fun.”

  He grabbed her hand and yanked her forward a little, taking her off balance. “I wouldn’t let you touch me with that—or anything else—for anything in the world.”

  “Ah.” She smiled. “I doubt that very much. You know I have things you need.” She took his hand and pressed it to her breast. “It could be nice.”

  He fought the urge to squeeze the warm, full orb pressing against his palm. “You’re a fae—”

  “—who hates fae.”

  His jaw worked. “That doesn’t change your genetic heritage.”

  “My cunt is the same as any other woman’s.”

  He twisted away in revulsion, but she caught his upper arm and turned him toward her. Her strength was much greater than it should have been for a person of her slight stature. A thrill went through him.

  She put her mouth to his ear and whispered. “I love it when you play hard to get.” Her teeth rasped over his earlobe, making him shudder. He loathed himself for it, but this excited him. “Ah, see? I knew you’d give in to me eventually.”

  “I’m not giving in to you.” He turned his face and spat.

  “Sure you’re not.” She smiled and nipped his lip, then bit down. Sweet pain exploded. Salty blood dotted his tongue and his knees went a little weak.

  She pushed him back toward the night table with the pressure of her mouth on his. His own blood filled his mouth, blending with her saliva as she forced her tongue between his lips. Separating her mouth from his, she wound her fingers hard through his hair and pulled as if trying to detach it from his skull.

  His breath caught in his throat and he stifled a moan.

  She smiled. “Let’s get business out of the way so we can focus on the pleasure, shall we? The only person who can pull the piece is ‘a lost human who has found her way, dying for the love of a fae’.”

  A human? But that could mean any female, inside or outside of Piefferburg. “What does that mean?”

  “Don’t ask me. I don’t know and I don’t care. Our defense is guarding the piece at all times. If we ever find out, don’t worry, we’ll tell you.” Her lips curled seductively. “Now that we have business out of the way . . .” She reached for the cato’-nine-tails, caught the handle, and flicked the leather straps so they cracked in the air.

  KIERAN, Aeric, and Charlotte drove Risa back to the city the next day. Charlotte rode in Aeric’s SUV because of her arm and Kieran took his bike, riding like a dark sentinel next to the SUV the whole way.

  She hated that she hated he was away from her.

  Risa was kept sedated and sprawled, handcuffed, on the backseat of the vehicle. It seemed like the drive took twice as long as it should’ve, but eventually they ended up back in Piefferburg City in front of the Black Tower.

  It was interesting how here in Piefferburg no one seemed to look twice when a bound, unconscious woman was extracted from a SUV and brought into a building. It was like it happened every day.

  As soon as they entered the tower, the unconscious Risa was placed into goblin hands and then disappeared into the depths of the structure. Charlotte harbored no love for the woman who had attempted to kill her, but she didn’t envy the event Risa would soon be caught up in, either. They meant to get information from her and the way they’d do it wouldn’t be pleasant. These were the Unseelie, though from what she understood, the Seelie Queen could be even more ruthless—and often was.

  Kieran caught her arm as she gazed after Risa. “Come on.”

  She turned and followed him.

  He led her up to see the queen. Charlotte’s gut churned in anticipation of the queen’s verdict regarding her fate. Nothing would make her happy. If the queen said she could go home, she’d be leaving Kieran. If she ordered her to stay, she’d be staying near him. It was a lose/lose situation.

  Aislinn was dressed in full court regalia today. As usual her gown was of a style caught between Victorian fashion and gothic punk contemporary. Her bloodred and black skirts swept out behind her in a flounce that made her waist seem tinier than it was. The front of the dress cut up to her knee, revealing her shiny black thigh-high boots. The bodice had about a million shiny ebony buttons and pressed her breasts up to overflowing at the top. It was a beautiful garment but looked restrictive as hell. Ruby jewelry hung at her ears and throat, and glittered from her wrists.

  The Unseelie Queen’s face appeared drawn and serious when she and Kieran entered the room. It was just the three of them. Even the handsome king, usually always by her side, was absent today.

  The
queen motioned them to sit on a pristine white couch in her large receiving room, then seated herself in a nearby chair and crossed her boot-clad legs. “So, I understand you didn’t escape all the excitement when you left for Hangman’s Bastion. Instead you took it with you.”

  Kieran nodded. He’d been a man of few words since the revelation of Risa’s betrayal.

  The queen’s gaze moved to Charlotte. “I don’t think we will ever be able to repay you for what you have done for us.”

  It’s not like she’d had a choice. A smile flickered over her lips and she touched her bandaged arm, remembering the blade coming toward her. “I don’t think you will either.”

  “I apologize for the trouble we’ve caused you and the disruption to your life.”

  “Thank you.” She glanced at Kieran. “Despite how I was brought here, however, I don’t regret coming.”

  The queen’s eyebrows rose. “Really?”

  Charlotte inclined her head. “Risa did try to kill me, but her magick before that point revealed truths to me I needed to know. If I’d never come to Piefferburg, I would have lived my life in ignorance until my death.”

  “Ah.” The queen considered her for a moment, apparently not knowing how to respond to that. “Thank you for all you’ve done. Your work is complete now.”

  Kieran’s head snapped up. “You’re letting her go?”

  “I see no reason why she should stay. The charm is for a human who has found her way and is dying for the love of a fae. Charlotte, you sound a little like you’ve found your way, but are you dying for the love of any of us?”

  “No. I mean, I feel perfectly fine.” She glanced at Kieran. “But the curse. Me. Him. It seems—”

  “Very fitting, doesn’t it?” Aislinn smiled. “And yet you two are not in love, correct?”

  “No,” Kieran said forcibly. “We’re not.”

  Something in Charlotte’s chest pained her for a moment, then was gone. She didn’t expect anything from him. Hell, love with Kieran meant death anyway. The fact he’d just stated that she meant nothing to him should make her happy. But, damn it, it didn’t. Steeling her expression, she raised her gaze to the queen’s.