She’d teleported with a seamless skill that made Rhys realize she’d been holding back on him. Yes, she was good, she was talented and she’d shown tremendous growth when it came to controlling her magic but now he realized that Holly had been planning this for a while. Working toward it. There was no other way to explain the deft, smooth transition.
Someone new to teleporting left ripples and Rhys had thought he had a good idea of her control.
Not.
Dimly, he was aware of the fact that it had grown late and the simulated sunlight of the dome had faded, allowing true darkness to spread across the Reach. Magical tracking was tedious, tiring and physically exhausting, as evidenced by the sweaty state of his clothes, the labored rhythm of his breathing, but he persisted.
Rhys would have continued searching for her well into the night and the coming day if he hadn’t been interrupted. The security system belled a warning and the computer announced Nik’s arrival but pulling back into himself was time-consuming.
By the time he’d realigned his senses with his body, Nik was there, pacing back and forth, his hair disheveled, his face stark and his eyes looking just a little too wild.
I know how you feel, Rhys thought in sympathy. He was half out of his head with worry over Holly, even though his common sense insisted she was fine.
Apparently, though, Rhys had more common sense than Nik just then. “You take too much time,” Nik growled, his accent so thick only years of familiarity made it possible for Rhys to understand him.
“What did you expect me to do? Wave a magic wand and lo, there she is?” Rhys asked sarcastically as he uncurled his body from the floor. Muscles kinked and pulled in his back as he stood. His shirt was drenched with sweat and, with a scowl, he pulled it off and tossed it toward the locker room. Cool air kissed his dampened torso as he crossed to sit by his desk.
“Where is the Old Law?”
A shiver raced down Rhys’ spine at Nik’s abrupt question. The volume of ancient, archaic laws wasn’t kept in any one place. It was sealed by magic, protected against time and theft. It was one of the few things that was not entrusted to the Claus directly but rather to the Council and the Claus’ successor.
Which, currently, was Rhys. “Why?”
Nik’s lip curled. “The book, Rhys.”
Leaning back in the chair, Rhys crossed long-fingered hands over a flat belly and pinned Nik with a direct stare. “Not unless I know why.”
The silence was answer enough.
“You’d use the old magics on your own flesh and blood, Nik?” he asked quietly. A surge of protectiveness engulfed him, adrenaline pumping. No. He wouldn’t let that be done to her.
“She is too headstrong. Too willful. A danger to herself. To us.” Nik spoke in short, harsh sentences, each word a brittle echo.
Looking into Nik’s eyes, Rhys saw that he truly believed that. This wasn’t just a serious case of overprotecting his only daughter, his only child by blood. He’d gone and convinced himself that Holly was something other than what she was. Nik truly believed that she was some flighty, immature child.
Disbelieving, Rhys stood up from the chair and shook his head. “No. I will not tell you. This is wrong, Nik.”
Dark blue eyes narrowed on Rhys’ face. “You will tell me now.”
But Rhys wasn’t as intimidated by Nik as the bastard would like him to be. Instead of telling him a damn thing, Rhys flipped Nik off and watched as the man’s eyes widened. He tensed, ready for Nik to lunge for him but all Nik did was stand there and glare.
“This is wrong, Nik. Somewhere inside, you have to understand that.”
“I only know what I must do,” Nik said, his voice a bare whisper. He cleared his throat and then closed his eyes. “Fine. You wish not to tell? I go to the Council. I will have that book, Rhys.”
Chapter Four
Music played. Ridiculously loud. In the room next to hers, Holly could hear the labored breathing, occasional moans and the rhythmic squeak of a mattress. Eventually the woman would start to scream and then there’d be silence again. In a few hours, or maybe tomorrow night, there would be a repeat.
Holly’s neighbor apparently felt the vibes from Valentine’s Day year around. In the past two weeks, there had only been one or two repeat visitors though the woman rarely spent the night alone.
Holly couldn’t decide whether to be jealous or amused.
Considering she’d only been with Rhys, she couldn’t quite wrap her mind around the fact that the woman had been with easily ten different guys in the past two weeks.
After much debate, Holly decided it was envy.
She missed Rhys and yearned for him with an intensity that brought tears to her eyes. If she thought she had a chance in hell of finding comfort with another man, she just might have acted on that impulse.
But her body went cold thinking about another man and listening to the antics next door didn’t help.
The open door of her balcony let in the cool air, carrying with it the scents of alcohol and the rich spice of Cajun food and life.
It was a nonstop party, even as the hours ticked away, midnight, one…two…the party continued with a fervency that still left her wide-eyed.
She loved it. As Valentine’s Day edged closer, gaudy red and pink hearts appeared in the small joint where Holly had accepted a job working behind the bar. She’d applied for a job bussing tables. She was pretty sure that just meant cleaning them down and collecting empties and stuff, nothing she couldn’t handle.
Hell, she had a top-notch college education, even if some of her classes were a little unusual. But the owner had taken one look at her and demanded, “You learn fast, blondie?”
A lengthy pause, followed by a slow Yes and the owner told Holly she’d make him more money working the bar, if she could figure out how to mix drinks quick enough and learn how to flirt. Mixing the drinks was easy but the flirting took a little longer.
But by the end of the week, she was bringing home a decent amount of money. Decent enough that it had actually surprised her. And it was her money, earned at a job where she worked hard, where nobody handed her anything.
She worked from five to eleven, a split shift, four nights a week. Even on weeknights, the place was hopping and a second bartender came on at ten to work until the place shut down.
It was easy work, they didn’t ask any questions and the owner paid Holly cash. He’d told her that he had enough employees on the payroll and he didn’t want to pay no more insurance, not to cover her cute ass—his words, not hers.
“Especially seeing as how I don’t see you hanging around here too long,” he’d said, eying her with a penetrating glance that saw far too deeply. “Just keep the trouble away from my place and we’ll get along fine.”
It wouldn’t be a problem, not that Holly could have told him that. Whatever troubles might come her way, they wouldn’t come with an accompanying orchestra and a ticker tape parade. It would all happen very quietly, very quickly and what couldn’t be handled in silence would be handled at home.
Jerking her mind away from thoughts of home, Holly focused on the ceaseless noise pouring through the window. The music was pdecent, though she couldn’t hear it clearly enough. Too much outside noise and speakers that had definitely seen better days.
It had taken a couple of weeks to get used to things here.
Even though it was mid-February and half of the tourist traps were done up with red foil hearts, pink roses and the other trappings of Valentine’s Day, the temperatures were about as mild as it was in the environome at the Reach.
It felt hotter, though. In the Reach, the dry, artificially manufactured environment had an almost sterile feel to it. Here, the air was redolent with the spicy scents of food, sweet with the fragrant flowers that bloomed despite being winter and there was something else in the air, too. Something darker, earthier—the bayou.
Every moment, she feared she’d be discovered. Although she kept her shields down tightly
and hadn’t used magic for anything since she’d teleported out of the Reach, she knew if she wasn’t careful, she’d give off vibes and then somebody would track her down.
She’d had fourteen wonderful days of freedom. Although the magic building inside her demanded release, she wouldn’t allow herself that. One whisper of magic and she was done. The few weeks of freedom weren’t enough.
Already, Holly knew that she’d fight when somebody finally found her and tried to take her back.
Holly doubted she’d win but she would fight.
“Don’t think about it,” she whispered to herself, taking a deep breath. When she did, she breathed in the sweet scent of roses. A street vendor had been selling them and Holly had bought herself a half dozen. As she paid the man, a couple had come up—the boy barely old enough to shave and the girl had yet to lose the soft roundness of youth. There had been a sappy, lovesick look on the girl’s face and when the boy had smiled at her and given her the one rose he’d bought, a wave of envy and longing had washed over Holly.
Even as confining as her life at the Reach had been, she’d never really wished to be wholly mortal. But looking at those two kids, so in love with each other, she had found herself yearning for some kind of normalcy. The ability to find a guy, fall head over heels and not worry about what in hell her father might do.
Flopping onto her back, she stared up at the darkened ceiling, thinking of Rhys and worrying. Wondering.
What would Da do if he knew that she’d slept with Rhys? A wry grin tugged at her lips, wishing that he’d react the way a lot of fathers would react—try to punch Rhys out and then insist the bastard marry his daughter. Old-fashioned honor, the kind that led to a shotgun wedding.
Da was plenty full of the old-fashioned honor but instead of trying to set up some sort of shotgun wedding, he’d probably either stake Rhys out on the tundra for a day or two or send him off on assignment on the opposite end of the earth. Indefinitely.
Shifting back onto her side, she reached out, skimmed her fingers down one velvety rose petal. It might be nice, being normal. To have fights with boyfriends, to plan something romantic on Valentine’s Day, only to have him forget to buy her anything. It all sounded so…mundane. So typical.
So not her. Unlike anything she’d ever known. Her pampered upbringing, her overprotective father, her top-notch education and her closets of clothes and shoes put her so far removed from normal that Holly really couldn’t even grasp the concept.
Typical things that might annoy some people, Holly took ridiculous delight in. She’d shelled out some of the mortal currency she’d swiped from North Hall to pay for food, for the small, cramped efficiency apartment. She’d cooked popcorn in the microwave, burned it and eaten every piece except the ones that were scorched black. And she’d loved it.
Going to work and dealing with roaming hands and eyes that wouldn’t move away from her tits—well, that she could do without, but she’d dealt with each man on her own, relishing every pained squeal and more than once, she’d seen a grin of approval from the people she worked with, including the owned.
This was normal. It was freedom.
And she was going to enjoy all of it, as much as she could, for as long as she could.
Sighing, she rolled over on her bed and cuddled into her pillow, smiling drowsily. The sleepy contentment lingered with her as she drifted closer and closer to sleep but before she could fall completely into the void, something stirred.
Looking for me again…but even as that thought formed, it seemed wrong. Off, somehow.
Oh, she knew her father’s people were searching for her. She was all too aware of just how intensely they searched.
How intensely Rhys searched. It was like the sensation of being watched in a way, but so much stronger, so much more potent.
Their magics colored the air around her. The magic, and the emotion. Plenty of emotion, frustration, irritation, coming from her father’s men. Then worry and a reluctant pride when Bryan joined the search.
She was acutely aware of Rhys and Bryan, to be honest, she was rather surprised that neither of them had found her yet. When she was found, in all likelihood it would be by one of them—her brother or her lover.
Bryan, because their shared blood and his unusual gift had forged a bond between them or Rhys, because that intensity of his would lead him to her.
Did he miss her?
That he was looking for her might imply he did but Rhys was her father’s second. If the Claus issued an order that Rhys search for Holly, Rhys wasn’t really in a position to refuse. And that ate at her, gnawing an ugly hole in her gut that nothing could ease.
Rhys was the one she sensed most often and every time she felt him, she held still, almost afraid to breathe for fear that he’d sense her. Yet each time he brushed past her, a weird sense of regret swamped her. She didn’t truly want to be found but she wanted Rhys.
And in that moment, she wanted him so desperately it hurt. Born out of some innate fear, she might have even called for him…if she hadn’t been so terrified by this new presence.
An angry, hungry presence.
Not within her room but she felt it nonetheless. Instinct screamed at her to brace herself, to shield but shielding required an act of magic and any act of magic would be like a beacon to those searching for her. To her father, to his men…to Rhys. And to this new, unknown watcher.
Jerking upright, she sat on the bed and shivered, pulling her knees into her chest and burying her face against her bare legs.
This was an unknown touch.
It wasn’t Rhys, her brother or father or any other elf she knew—not that she really knew all that many. It felt more focused than the random probes that had been coming her way since she’d disappeared from the Reach. It swung back her way, like a search light, and Holly was afraid to even take a breath of air.
Searching—and evil. The very real evil was so thick and nasty and cloying, she suspected she could choke on it. If she allow herself to breathe.
But she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t even think too loud. Goose bumps broke out over her body and even though she tried not to, she started to shiver. Her lungs screamed and still she didn’t move. Blood roared in her ears, she didn’t move.
By the time that magical focus swung away from her, black dots were dancing in front of her eyes from lack of oxygen. Sucking in a desperate breath, she rolled off the bed.
Ten minutes ago, she’d been this close to sleep—warm, comfortable and drowsy—and now she was drenched with sweat, icy cold and terrified.
“What in hell was that?” she muttered, shoving a hand through her hair.
Nothing around her had changed and she knew that the humans around her were completely unaware of the unpleasant vibes ringing through the air. Although that presence had withdrawn, the lingering stink of evil danced around her and it chilled her to the bone.
Wrapping her arms around her chest, she grabbed a blanket from the bed and moved to the large armchair by the window. Wrapping it around herself, she settled down to brood. And worry.
Brood because she couldn’t tell if that presence had been searching for her.
Worry because, while the presence wasn’t one she was familiar with, there had been a familiar feel to it.
An elf.
* * * * *
Rhys waited until Bordelain’s fouled presence had completely withdrawn before he allowed himself to breathe easier. He didn’t know what Lain was looking for, but right now, Rhys didn’t give a damn as long as Lain stayed the hell away from him.
So he could find Holly.
After he found Holly, he’d worry about Lain. He’d known Lain most of his life, yet he still couldn’t reconcile himself with the knowledge he’d learned over the past few weeks. Something sick moved through his gut as he realized he’d been working side by side with the man for decades—centuries. As the mortal world edged farther and farther into a realm where they had little use for magic, the e
lves had mostly accepted it, accepted that their place within the world was changing.
But while Lain had pretend to accept to the changes forced upon them with good humor, yet the entire time, he had been conspiring against the rulings of the Council and the Claus. Tried to kill Nik, had advocated the risk of injuries to the rest of the Reach, all in the blind pursuit of his own goals.
Rhys couldn’t quite wrap his mind around it.
“That’s a zealot, Rhys,” he muttered as he shoved open the doors to his hotel room and moved out to the balcony. The press of people, the noise, the concrete canyons were driving him insane.
The cool air was a welcome brush on his skin though the cloying scents of engine exhaust and refuse stung his nose. Rhys wasn’t sure why he was here. Holly wasn’t in Memphis. With her love of blues music and barbecue, he’d hoped that maybe she’d be here.
But there was a whole damn world full of things that Holly would love and he felt as though he was searching for a needle in a haystack.
She wasn’t here, just as she hadn’t been in Paris.
Just as she hadn’t been in Ireland.
Just as she hadn’t been in any of the other twenty or thirty locales that he had searched. He’d know. Somehow, deep in his gut, Rhys would know when she was near. He hoped he wasn’t deluding himself but the false hope was just about all he had going for him right now.
It had been weeks since he’d seen Holly. Weeks without seeing her pretty face and her soft body, without teasing her until he saw some kind of smile briefly lighten the sadness in her eyes.
He hadn’t thought it would take so long to find her. A few days ago, he’d acknowledged to himself that he’d underestimated her again. She was so young and still so untried with her magic, he’d been confident she would make a mistake, do something that would lead him to her.
He’d left the Reach two weeks ago. But February wore on and he had yet to find her.
Guilt gnawed him. Rhys had known how miserable she was, how miserable she had been for years and yet he had done nothing to help her. The one time he’d seen her truly happy had been their first night together and, though he knew that she’d enjoyed it every bit as much as he, he hadn’t started it with the intent to comfort. He’d started it because he needed her until it was an ugly, harsh ache inside him and he’d wanted to ease it.
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