He turned to Albigard, not even sure why, but the Fae wouldn’t meet his eyes. He’d been completely silent since leaving the Court chamber, and there was a brittle tension to the line of his back that Len didn’t much like the look of. If they’d been alone, Len would have gone to him. With the others here, he wasn’t at all sure the gesture would be appreciated. Honestly, he had no idea how Albigard felt about the prospect of being outed to the small group of people who nominally considered him a friend. It had never occurred to him to ask.
So he sat in his chair, squashed together with Vonnie in the cramped space, and fretted.
What if the vampires didn’t wake up?
What if they woke up, but they weren’t okay?
What if the death toll on Earth was way worse than the authorities were letting on?
What if Daeana and Nigellus got into a fight on the way back to the gate and managed to start another war?
He hauled off and mentally smacked himself upside the head before his thoughts could spiral any further.
Enough.
He really wished Albigard didn’t look like he was one stiff breeze away from shattering into sharp-edged pieces, though.
Silence settled over the little group. Guthrie idly took Zorah’s hand between both of his, running his thumb back and forth over her skin. Vonnie leaned her shoulder against Len’s with a reassuring pressure, which he appreciated more than he could say. Albigard stared fixedly at Ransley Thorpe’s slack face, though Len wasn’t at all sure that he was truly seeing it.
Outside, the sun rose, the angle of the light changing gradually as the morning progressed. Hours passed, and Len was appalled to find himself beginning to doze off, as the events of the past several days caught up with him. He jerked back to awareness when Guthrie inhaled sharply, because vampires didn’t need to breathe. Vonnie straightened in her chair next to him.
“Leo?” she prompted.
“I felt her hand twitch,” Guthrie said.
TWENTY-ONE
LEN LEANED forward. Albigard stared down at Rans with an intensity so laser-like it could have burned through steel. After a few moments, the dark-haired vampire stirred and groaned.
“Bloody...” The weak curse trailed off. One hand lifted to his forehead as though to combat a headache, and Rans rolled awkwardly into a sitting position. “Please tell me someone got the license number of whatever lorry just hit me—”
Albigard watched him, frozen. On the other bed, Zorah gave a pitiful moan, and Guthrie helped her upright, gathering her against his chest.
“Zorah?” Rans asked sharply, his eyes flying to her.
“It’s all right,” Guthrie said. “She’s all right, Rans. I’ve got her.”
Rans relaxed, his expression softening. Vonnie’s hand fumbled for Len’s and he took it, returning her hard squeeze as relief hit him in a hot wave.
Meanwhile, Rans had regained enough of his bearings to notice Albigard sitting on his other side, statue-like. He blinked. “A bedside vigil, Alby? Really? Buggering hell, now I know it was bad. What on Earth happened to—”
Albigard grabbed two fistfuls of Rans’ black henley and buried his face against the vampire’s shoulder. Dark eyebrows shot up, and Len was treated to the first instance he could ever recall of Ransley Thorpe, seven-hundred-year-old creature of the night, being rendered speechless with shock. After a stunned moment, his arms came around Albigard’s shoulders, though his expression still held more than a hint of complete bewilderment.
The Fae curled further into him, and Len’s throat closed up as Albigard’s shoulders began to shake. Beside him, Vonnie sniffled. Len let go of her hand in favor of wrapping an arm around her, while trying his best not to start sobbing like a baby because maybe things were going to be all right now.
“What happened?” Zorah rasped, still slumped against Guthrie. “Guthrie? You’re s’posed to be in Scotland...”
“What’s the last thing you remember?” Len asked, thankfully managing to keep his voice steady.
She looked blank. Rans did not. Len watched the slow-dawning realization cross the English vampire’s face.
“The Hunt...” he breathed. Then he took a quick inventory of the room, his glacier-blue eyes regaining some of their usual clarity. “Nigellus?”
“He, uh...” Len had to stop and clear his throat. “He kind of... lost you guys for a while. We had to lure the Wild Hunt back to Dhuinne and corral it before he could get your souls back. You’ve both been dead for... actually, I don’t know how long it’s been. More than a week, I’m pretty sure. Anyway, he was here earlier, but he left.”
“The Fae weren’t overwhelmingly thrilled by the idea of having a demon inside Dhuinne,” Guthrie explained. “And I gather he’s in the doghouse with you two, as well.”
“So, let’s just say, you’ve missed some things,” Len finished.
Rans hesitated, looking at the Fae in his arms with the air of someone who’d been handed an expensive and breakable gift, but had no earthly idea what he was supposed to do with it.
“Clearly so,” he said.
Len took a deep breath, trying to push aside some of the emotion clogging his chest. “But enough about that. I have a serious question now. Albigard, how come you didn’t lose your magic the first time you told me you and Rans weren’t friends? Because I’m sorry, but that was a blatant, bald-faced lie.”
“We are not friends,” Albigard said into the vampire’s shoulder. His voice was hoarse.
Rans snorted. “Friends? Good god. Definitely not. More like... siblings who drive each other utterly mental on a regular basis, I suppose. Speaking of which, this really is becoming rather disconcerting now, Tinkerbell.”
“Agreed,” said Albigard, making no move to extricate himself.
“Leave him be, Bela,” Len told the vampire. “Stuff went down that you don’t know about. Some of it was really bad.”
Something in Len’s tone must have hinted at how bad, because the vampire’s expression sobered. Albigard finally pulled himself together enough to straighten away from the embrace, drawing his self-possession around him like a tattered cloak.
“Forgive me,” he murmured. “I should hate to feel that I’d offended your delicate sensibilities.”
“Aww... I think it’s sweet,” Zorah mumbled. “But I also feel like grade-A shit right now. Otherwise I’d come over there and hug you, too, Tink.”
“Please don’t feel obligated,” Albigard told her.
“You two need blood,” Guthrie said, redirecting them toward more practical matters. “Fortunately for you, my jugular is on tap today. Just keep in mind that I only have Vonnie and Len to feed from afterward, and Len already looks like he’s about to pass out.”
“Somewhat surprisingly,” Len told him, “despite having the crap knocked out of me over the past few weeks, my blood volume is fine. Just don’t expect me to stay awake afterward, because I’m wrecked.”
And he wasn’t the only one... but even after all of this, they weren’t done. There was still the Court’s decision regarding the Unseelie on Earth. Albigard would stay on Dhuinne until that knot had also been unpicked, Len was sure—and Len wasn’t inclined to leave him here alone while that happened.
For now, though, all was finally well. And Len tried—honestly tried—to soak in that realization without worrying about the rest of it. He accepted an embrace from Zorah, once she’d fed from Guthrie and regained a bit of her strength. Afterward, he offered his vampire ex-boss a vein in his wrist with good grace, and cracked a lame joke about employee benefits. He added a few additions and corrections to Guthrie’s rundown of what, exactly, they’d been up to while Rans and Zorah were dead—mostly so Albigard wouldn’t be forced to do it.
When that was done, Rans gave Albigard a long look laced with both sympathy and speculation, while Zorah made good on her earlier threat and thoroughly flummoxed the Fae by hugging him, too.
“I know what it’s like to lose a father who hurt you,” she
said quietly. “You’re still allowed to grieve, even if it’s for things you never really had in the first place.”
Albigard submitted to the embrace a bit stiffly. “So I am told,” he replied, his gaze catching Len’s.
Rans tilted his head, considering them. “Hmm. I think you may have found something, as well as losing something. Am I right, Alby?”
Albigard did not break eye contact with Len. “Perhaps,” he said.
The front door opened, and the cat-sidhe entered, breaking the moment.
“Ah,” said the shape-shifter, examining the vampires with a look of interest. “You’re awake. Good. How was death?”
“We appear to have slept through it,” Rans said. “Next time, we’ll try to take better notes.”
Guthrie leveled a severe frown at him. “No ‘next time.’ Jesus, I’ve barely recovered from this round.”
“Seriously, though,” Zorah said. “I guess the clue’s probably in the name, but the Endless Void is boring. I mean... you remember what it was like before you were born?”
“No,” Len said.
“Right,” Zorah finished, gesturing at him as though he’d made the point for her. “It was a lot like that.”
Len supposed that as potential afterlives went, that was something he could deal with. At least it sounded restful.
“Are we about ready to head back, then?” Vonnie asked. “Because as fascinating as the philosophical implications might be, I’m only going to be able to hold my barrier against Dhuinne’s magic for so long.”
Guthrie was at her side in an instant. “I shouldn’t have drained you. Damn it...”
She waved him off with a look of fond exasperation. “Stop. I’m not saying I’m two minutes away from mental collapse, Leo. I’m saying we should probably start thinking about an exit strategy.”
“I will take you to the gateway now if you wish it,” said the cat-sidhe. “Doubtless the Court will be happier once you are all back on Earth.”
“They’re not the only ones,” Guthrie agreed.
“No argument here,” Zorah said. “This place doesn’t exactly bring back rosy memories.”
“Indeed not,” Rans added darkly.
Vonnie turned to Len. “How about it, Blue? You ready to blow this popsicle stand?”
He shook his head and took a step back, moving closer to Albigard. “Can’t yet, Red. You go on, though.”
She gave him a worried look. “You’re staying? Len, haven’t you done enough already? This place—even if it doesn’t drive you mad... it’s dangerous. They’re dangerous.” She shot Albigard an apologetic glance. “Sorry, but it’s true.”
Albigard didn’t dispute her words. Neither did the cat-sidhe.
Len offered her a strained smile. “Yeah, I’d noticed. But apparently I’ve got political clout now... which I freely admit is not a sentence I ever thought I’d hear myself saying.”
“Clout might be overstating it slightly,” Albigard retorted, because even after everything, he was still an asshole at heart.
“The Court’s still fighting over what to do about the Unseelie on Earth,” Len went on, ignoring him. “That’s... kind of a big deal, and there’s no one else here to speak for humanity.” He paused. “Which is another sentence I never thought I’d be saying.”
“In that case, I can’t think of anyone better suited,” Rans said smoothly. “Alby—keep him safe, won’t you?”
“You’ve been dead for a week,” Albigard pointed out. “I’m not certain you’re qualified to speak on matters of safety.”
“I get the sense we’re not going to live this down anytime soon,” Zorah put in. She sighed. “Len, be careful, okay? And give ’em hell.”
“Perhaps not the best choice of idiom, love,” Rans observed mildly. “Very well. We’ll be off, as long as you’re both certain about this. And... thank you for not giving up on us. Personally, I find the land of the living a much more attractive prospect than the land of the dead, these days.” His gaze wandered to Zorah, an absent smile tilting one corner of his lips.
Rans recalled himself a moment later and shook Len’s hand. Then he clasped Albigard forearm to forearm, like some ancient warriors’ rite.
The Fae cleared his throat. “I am... gratified... that Nigellus was able to retrieve your souls,” he said stiffly.
Rans smiled. “Ah, don’t worry about it, Tinkerbell. You’ll get over this unusual lapse soon enough. I’m confident we’ll be hurling blades at each other again in no time.”
Zorah caught Len’s eye and mouthed ‘homoerotic subtext’ at him from behind her raised hand. He choked on a snort and accepted her hug, followed by Vonnie’s. Guthrie shook his hand with a firm, cool grip, and quietly said, “Thank you.”
And just like that, they were leaving, with the cat-sidhe’s promise to return soon so they could check in on the Court’s progress later that afternoon. The front door closed, and the light from a Fae portal flared through the windows for a few moments before fading.
Silence settled over the little cottage, so complete that it echoed.
“How are you?” Len asked.
The Fae appeared mildly shell-shocked. “I have absolutely no idea.”
“Right,” Len said, squaring his shoulders. “When in doubt... food. Though we should probably take a miss on the mead for the moment.”
“Eminently practical,” Albigard replied, his tone sounding faint.
Len took a steadying breath, and went to explore the mysteries of the rustic little kitchen.
TWENTY-TWO
BY THE TIME he and Albigard had made inroads on another plowman’s lunch of bread, cheese, fruit, and meat, the sidhe returned. The shape-shifter trotted into the room in animal form, and transformed without comment before plucking a slice of bread and some cheese from the remains of the platter.
“So, back to the Court, then?” Len asked, as the sidhe wolfed down the simple food with very little in the way of feline delicacy.
The diminutive Fae swallowed and nodded, brushing their fingers clean of crumbs and turning to Albigard. “I think so, yes. You’ll be pleased to hear that all existing charges against you have been dropped, a leanbh. Apparently none of the surviving Court members cared to gamble on the Hunt’s response to opposition in this matter.” They shrugged. “I suppose it would be rather humiliating for the executioner to refuse to carry out the execution, and turn the axe on the jurors instead.”
The news did nothing to improve Albigard’s system-rebooting-please-stand-by expression, but Len breathed another internal sigh of relief. Making room for optimism was something he’d struggled with mightily over the years, for obvious reasons. However, at this rate, he might be in danger of thinking there was a happy ending in the works after all.
He gave the empty platter a quick wash and decided that the Court would just have to deal with his disheveled and unshowered state. Somehow, as a human, he doubted being primped and dressed to the nines would make much of a difference to the Fae’s opinion of him.
Even so, he felt a moment of self-consciousness when the cat-sidhe gave a delicate sniff in his direction. A moment later, he understood.
The sidhe raised an eyebrow. “It is good that you found a use for your reserve of necromantic power, human. I trust Daeana not to bring trouble to your doorstep, but it might have been a bit much to parade you in front of the Court while you reeked of dead Fae. Not now, when there are likely to be fewer distractions than last time.”
Len supposed that, when they’d shown up in the chamber yesterday, the presence of two-dozen armed Forsaken and the unleashed Hunt probably had been a bit higher on the Court’s priority list than one human who stank of necromancy.
“Believe me,” he said, “if we could avoid any more people dying for a bit, that would suit me right down to the ground.”
“I cannot dispute the sentiment,” Albigard agreed.
* * *
This Court session was much more sparsely attended than the last one Le
n had seen. The few spectators who’d braved the chamber were huddled at the farthest possible point in the room from the coiling darkness of the Hunt, which still stood vigil over the proceedings.
The sidhe strode down the aisle of the grand chamber without hesitation, as Len and Albigard followed close behind. “Magistrate,” said the shape-shifter. “How fares the discussion regarding the Unseelie on Earth?”
The Magistrate drew breath to speak, only to be interrupted by a harried looking Court member from the Unseelie side.
“As a point of order, I have requested that the open seats on the Court be filled before such a major decision comes to a vote. As it stands now, there is an imbalance heavily favoring the Seelie contingent.”
“And whose fault is that?” Len muttered, hopefully not loud enough for his words to reach the dais.
The Magistrate also appeared a bit frazzled—understandable, after recent events. “Indeed. Perhaps this interruption is a fortuitous one.” She turned to Albigard. “Son of Oren, now that your name has been cleared and your honor restored, you are eligible to ascend to your father’s seat on the Court.”
Len’s breath stuttered in his chest.
Albigard blinked at her in shock.
“Never,” he said, with startling vehemence.
The Unseelie who’d been bitching about the open seats looked like he couldn’t decide whether to be offended by the Magistrate’s offer to someone who’d been a condemned criminal up until a few hours ago, or by the former condemned criminal turning his nose up at the offer.
“To ascend to the Fae Court is an unparalleled honor—” he began.
“I have no interest in counting myself among this body—one that can only seem to bring itself to do the right thing when the alternative is immediate death,” Albigard said in low tones, cutting him off. “Do not speak to me of my father, or of honor. Certainly not in the same sentence.”
Silence fell heavily over the chamber.
The cat-sidhe broke it, speaking in a wry tone. “I believe you have your answer.”
Forsaken Fae: The Complete Series, Books 1-3 (Last Vampire World) Page 51