by Elle Lincoln
“I’m going to walk the perimeter.” Logan begins stripping, but stops and looks at Ember.
I hold back a snort as he walks off into the tree line to finish stripping. Which reminds me, I glance back at Ember. “Where’s Patrick’s shirt?”
She lifts a meaty leg, shaking it to reveal the torn shirt. Well, that answers that question. She definitely has shifter magic, and not like Cas and me. At least my clothes stay where they are supposed to.
I turn to the remaining men, where they are each taking a point in all directions. Their bodies poised and ready for a fight. Patrick holds up his ax, after tossing axes to the others.
I close my eyes, listening to the forest, waiting for her to give me any clues as to the threat that looms just past our senses. Her stillness is fool’s gold. A trick to the senses. A forest should never be devoid of sounds, and yet right now it sits in a shroud of utter calmness. A chill creeps up my back.
With the Fae, the gods, or any other creature that is magical in nature, you just never know what you are going to get. I never learned hand-to-hand combat. I never learned how to use a weapon. Because by the time I figured out what they, the Sluagh, had made me, I was the weapon.
I expected an attack, a launch of arrows and swords. Men and women dominating the air with their battle cries. Isn’t that how all wars start?
I was wrong.
A woman materializes out of the forest. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch as Ember fades from view. Good girl. That alone tells me several things. One, this is a foe and she is not to be trusted. Two, she has a flight instinct. Maybe we will be able to get her to an adult dragon after all.
I allow my darkness to trickle out. Incorporeal to the newcomer her as it moves like an inky mist to seep into her skin and seek out her soul. I stand still as she walks up our drive wearing what I can only describe as an Arabian princess outfit. Fitted in loose, sheer fabric, she leaves nothing to the imagination as her nipples peek through the cloth, and her hair cascades down her back in silvery waves, but it is her eyes that strike me, her sharp features that penetrate beyond mere beauty and border on unnerving. Every feature is prominent to an angular degree. Her chin points, her cheekbones could cut glass, and her eyes threaten with their icy blue gaze.
“Bette.” Her voice, as though she were a heavy smoker, strikes the senses with a cutting edge. “I’ve been looking for you.”
I step out in my muddy jeans and t-shirt, my Converse sneakers scuffed and the polar opposite of this put together Fae. Because that is exactly what she is with her pointy ears.
“Do I know you?” My darkness tightens around her soul, revealing a cold that belongs in the arctic.
“You will.” She stands but feet from me in nothing more than flats that look like socks. But every nerve in my body stands on alert.
“Then tell me, why are you here?” The guys stand sentinel behind me.
“Ryoden has visited, yes? Left his calling card?” She jerks her head to the rubble behind me, squeezing at my heart.
“Indeed.” I will give this woman nothing more than a mask.
“I’m Queen Mab.” She leans in, waiting for me to understand her words.
I don’t.
“Yeah, I don’t know who you are.” And yet, a trickle of a memory let me know I do know who she is. One of the women working with Falin to hold the wolves prisoner. I send the mental thought to the guys, hoping it works.
“Shame. So, I hear he has declared war on you.” Word sure does travel fast.
“He has.”
“I’ll help you if you can acquire something for me.”
I sigh. I can feel the guys behind me, their anger rising. I already know where this is going. And I won’t fucking do it. “What are your terms?”
“Do you swear you’ll acquire this for me?” Her head tilts down, watching me closely.
“Look lady, I don’t give a fuck who you were. First of all, we don’t have kings and queens over here. Second of all, I know better than to agree to anything you fuckers say. Most important of all, I will not acquire a person for anyone.” I can feel my annoyance growing.
“Pity.” She sighs as though my words are nothing more than a fly buzzing around her ears. “I’ll have to agree to Ryoden’s threats then. Bring her to me or the Unseelie declare war on you.”
I close my eyes in defeat. Why the fuck do these assholes think I, of all fucking people, will just hand over a person?
I need to find Kelsie.
Chapter 8
Bette
Evasive Truth
Rose buds tease my senses, slowly building until it’s damn near overwhelming. I look to the woman in front of me, but her eyes are drawn to the tree line. The queen is just as confused as I am, great.
“Friend of yours?” Snark coats my words like a double-edged sword, and I watch in amusement as her face pinches and sneers in disgust. “I’ll take that as a no.”
I back away from her, moving near the closest guy, my eyes scanning the woods as I look for Logan. I bump into Mac and the sea wraps around me in a loving embrace. His hand brushes my hair from my neck as he speaks. “Possible god, or goddess.”
“Great, what’s one more to declare war on us.” By this point, we were destined to lose. Again. I mean, it was sort of our thing at this point.
“Shh, look.” Mac adjusts my head to look out into the forest where the shadows flutter and elongate.
I snort. Really, nothing surprises me anymore.
A breathtaking woman emerges from the forest wearing another sheer shift dress. “Does no one believe in modern clothing?”
Mac pinches my ass with that comment, somehow easing the tension riding me. I eye the new threat. Her long, wavy brown hair cascades over her nipples, at least shielding them from view. She walks with a sway that I’m sure entices most men, but these ones are mine so it’s just pointless. Her almond shaped eyes hold no warmth with their piercing glare. So, she is just as much of an ice queen as, well... the ice queen. I snort at my own joke, causing Mac to pinch my ass again.
“Ceth.” Balor’s voice rumbles behind me, deeper and more pronounced that I’ve ever heard it.
My jaw drops, realizing this is his ex-wife.
“Husband,” she purrs. Now I really don’t like the cunt.
Mac pulls me into his arms, his smooth cheek resting against mine, his lips speaking only for me as he holds in his laughter. “There is no love lost there, little one.”
I swallow my pride, content to let this play out.
“You’re siding with the Fae,” Balor spits. “There is no honor there.”
Ceth’s tinkling laughter causes all kinds of warning bells to alarm in my head. “Husband, you have no honor.”
On no she didn’t. I’m about to wiggle out of Mac’s arms and take her the fuck out—mostly because it would make me feel better. Perhaps I’ll ghost my arm through her so I can grip her heart, piercing the vessels with my nails. I hum low in my throat, just imagining the blood seeping out through my fingers as I crush her heart.
A cough brings me back to the present. Casseus.
Bloodthirsty little thing, aren’t you? he questions through our mental link. He stands with a grin on his face and his eyes glitter in amusement.
I’m not even embarrassed. The Sluagh are corrupting me, I reply.
This time Patrick laughs out loud. “My arse.”
I can feel Balor’s glare on me, his eye squinting at me as I look over.
“Please, I know you’re amused by me too.” I roll my hand, realizing I’ve interrupted a seemingly important discussion. Oops. “Carry on.”
Balor looks at me once more for a long moment before eyeing up Ceth again. “Why have you come?” He ignores her little jabs, probably because he heard my fun inner monolog. The one I definitely don’t feel bad about.
“Is this her?” She ignores him, turning her attention to me. Her hips sway as she walks toward me, and I note how unbelievably tall she is. Damn near on p
ar with the guys, six feet maybe. “She isn’t much, is she?” Her brows lower and for a small second, I swear she is trying to determine how much of a threat I actually am.
Mac squeezes me tighter. I won’t do anything stupid. I hope. “I thought you’d be taller,” I comment with my absolute best monotone voice, carrying as much seriousness as I can.
It throws her completely off guard for one small moment, allowing me just enough time to pierce her skin with my darkness and seek out her soul. Let’s see what sins we can find here.
“What are you doing to me?” I can feel her anger threaded in those words.
I’m surprised she can sense that. Who knew? “Doing what?”
“Don’t play coy, child, what are you doing?”
My eyes flick over to Balor who is just standing there shirtless, like the god beast he is, his eye looking up at the sky. Probably in annoyance, but I take that as he isn’t looking, so I’m free to act out a little.
“Scanning you,” I reply as I find her soul. “Oh, you have been a very naughty goddess, haven’t you?” Honestly, I don’t even think I’d feed her to the Sluagh. Her soul isn’t just coated in the dark swell of sin, but it’s crusted over, making it impenetrable. I back out, whatever she’s done to cause that isn’t something I want to know about.
“Satisfied?” she sneers.
“Sure, but I’ll tell you what, that is nasty.” I mock shudder, which isn’t hard, because it really is gross.
“Are you two done now?” Balor interjects. “Ceth, why are you here?”
“To offer you an olive branch of course.” She turns to him once again, hips swaying as she walks up to him. Too close, she is too fucking close. “Come back to me before this child destroys you for good.”
Balor takes a step back as Ceth places a palm on his chest. “No. Leave.”
She tries again, this time placing both palms on his chest. That’s when I see it a tiny spark of magic flickering out to graze his pecs.
Oh, hell no. I mist, moving quickly. I know I can’t move Balor, but I can move this cunt away from him. I materialize with forward momentum and shove her off him. It’s damn near satisfying watching her stumble and fall, her eyes shooting to mine in fury. I call upon the power of the dead, of the sinners of lore, my Sluagh, letting them fill me. Mist coats the area as screams fill the air.
Her eyes widen. I feel satisfaction in her fear. “You tried to drug him with magic to do what you wanted. That’s not very nice. So, I won’t play nice. Why are you here?”
More screams fill the air as allow the acidic nature of the Sluagh to materialize, something I’ve only just now realized I can do. See, these confrontations are good for me to learn. Plus, it’s kind of fun—other than the first one when my neck got crushed, that just sucked.
“Ryoden,” Ceth sneers. She really doesn’t want to answer me.
“Who is in the forest?” I could check, but I want to torture her a little more. I let the mist burn her arm. That satisfying sizzle sends a shudder of pure pleasure through me. Maybe I am a bit bloodthirsty.
Ceth growls until it turns into a scream. “Fine!” I pull the mist and the Sluagh back, allowing them to fade away. “He wants his kid, and he wants Balor to destroy you until you bring her to him.”
I sigh, not this again.
My thoughts die off as creatures run out of the forest, their battle cries slicing through the day. This is what I expect a war to look like. Crazy chaos.
I shouldn’t have looked away, Ceth pounces on me, tackling me like a damn linebacker. We tumble to the edge of the rubble. Her little fists pummel my stomach and I lose my breath. Struggling, I try to push her off me. I could mist out, but a small sadistic part of me craves the pain as my knuckles crack when they slam into her jaw.
Her fury permeates the air. All around us a fight deafens our once quiet forest. Rolling over, I pop up to snarl at her. Her perfect facade melts away, showing the true ugliness of her nature. Beauty is nothing but a lie.
She charges me again and I kick out, my foot landing in her diaphragm. I watch as she bends over struggling for breath.
“That’s for imprisoning Balor.” I kick her again, this time in her perfect little nose. Blood sprays with the crack I feet beneath my shoe. “That’s for dismembering him.” One more kick and she’ll roll off the rubble and down to the boulders below. I lift my leg and find myself being swept around.
Pine assaults my senses as Balor tightens his hold on me. “We can work out your aggression later. For now, we have a problem.” He spins me, setting me down in the center of the rubble.
I look around and dread crawls up my spine. My guys are hurt, bleeding, and in pain. Letting go of my anger, I feel their exhaustion creeping in. It was mere moments that I was distracted by Ceth, but the damage had been done.
Fae and creatures alike pour out of the forest attacking en masse, wearing them down. Realization dawns on me. The Fae and the others wouldn’t hesitate to sacrifice a few hundred if it serves their purpose. To wear us down. Bodies scatter the area, building as the guys strike through them.
Logan looks the worst. His side is torn apart in his wolf form as he faces off against a creature that looks part cat and part baboon.
“If you have any tricks up your sleeve, use it now.” Balor drops me in the center before jumping over the men to strike down multiple Fae. I don’t question why he doesn’t use his eye to take down the hoard, I can only assume his thoughts parallel my own. These aren’t soldiers, their death would be pointless. As I look around me, I realize the guys aren’t killing them, just knocking them out.
I have no plan, because a part of me truly thought it wouldn’t come to this.
“Ember,” I call to the child dragon. “Stay hidden and follow.”
I once again pull the Sluagh to me. My silent army ready to fight. But not today. Today, we need to retreat and plan for a new battle. Today, we will take the loss for what it is. I don’t know how many are hidden in that forest, but a part of me won’t kill them all. I doubt they are even soldiers. Their tactics are the same as the night Ryoden crushed my neck.
At least I know they have a fucking pattern. One I can use against them. Another time.
I try to recall the explosion and how I made each man into the mist. I pull harder on the power of the Sluagh, and they willingly lend their magic. Through our bond, I push that power into each of them.
My body sways as the power starts and stops, their wounds demanding attention first. As though led by an unseen hand, the Sluagh’s power seeks them out with the purpose to heal. But I can feel the drain. On me, on them, on all of us. I feel like an utter fool.
I redirect the power to shift them all into the mist, but my body stumbles. We won’t have long. The drain is too much. I pull them to me—Logan, Mac, Balor, Patrick, and Casseus. The last of whom attempts to help. The damn bastard didn’t once call on the Sluagh, leaving that entirely for me to do.
Pushing the last thread of energy out in a pulse, I watch as my guys fade from view. I pull them close as I, too, fade. With every ounce of strength I own, I dissolve the mist until we are nothing but thought.
A scream rents the air as I move us toward the drop off. Though it will tax me, I pause, that sixth sense telling me to wait but a moment.
“Where did they go?” I hear him before Ryoden walks free of the tree line. His white linen outfit reflecting the sun descending into the clear sky.
Ceth stands slowly, limping toward Ryoden. Her laugh is bitter and blood flies from her mouth. “Gone, you imbecile.”
“Leave!” Mab’s cool voice coats the crowd, their shoulders slumping as they walk off defeated, some carrying their wounded. “She was supposed to just go get the brat!”
“Apparently she has morals.” Ceth wipes the blood dripping down her face. Her hand pulls away as she gazes at the blood there. She rolls her shoulders and stands tall, her body healing quicker than I thought possible.
“You think she bought it?” Mab
questions Ceth.
“Of course, she bought it, the little witch beat me to a bloody pulp.” Ceth shrugs a delicate shoulder.
Ryoden rolls his eyes. “I need that brat of mine.”
“We will find her. We will snuff her out using what she cares for the most.” Ceth begins to walk toward the wood. “Bette.”
I’m what Kelsie cares for most? None of this answers why they want her.
But I begin to flicker between the mist and reality. It’s time to go. I pull away, floating through the air, hoping Ember follows.
There are several places we could go. A hidden cave. Grandma’s other cabin. But no, I need to find Kelsie. I move toward town. To the forested area that holds a mansion so old ivy grows up its broken walls and ghosts haunt its floors. I push and push until the mansion enters my vision.
No cars sits in the drive, no tours walk the halls. It’s somehow completely devoid of all human life. But just in case, I enter the servant’s quarters, ghosting under doors until the narrow hall with peeling green wallpaper greets me.
I can no longer hold on to this form, so I fall to reality. My knee’s buckle, my chin hits my chest, and my entire body burns.
“Bette!” Mac yells for me, but his voice sounds far away, broken with my consciousness. “What did you do?”
I heave out a sigh. “What do you mean?” Pain lances my side, and I curl into myself.
“You are riddled with our wounds.” Logan’s scent drifts to me from beside Mac.
“That’s not what I did, the power.” I pause as bile rises in my throat and nausea swamps me. “It wanted to heal you.”
Mac brushes my sweaty hair from my face. “That’s not how magic works. It always has a price.”
I should have remembered that, but in the moment, I didn’t think, all I could do was act.
“How bad is it?” I fight through the pain. Everything begins to burn now. But there is something nagging at me, hidden in the back of my mind.
“Well, our wounds are only partially healed. But you took on the other half of all five of us.” Mac tilts my chin up, but my eyes are heavy, as though sand was smothering them. “Let me move you.”