by Eli Constant
“Kyle’s sicker, Liam.”
“I know. I worried my unskilled treatments would only bandage the wound. And it is a great one. This goes beyond the idle games of the court.” He’s standing outside, and he’s not tried to come in despite me standing off to the side.
“What’s wrong?” I move back to him, trying to see around him. “Come in. He needs help.”
“He needs more than I can give, Victoria.” He looks down, and then back at me. “If I go now, I might find the Light Court scouts in time. There are always ways for a fae to track a fae, unless they have shielded themselves as I have. The scouts are likely stalking the area, trying to find the Dark Court members who have been toying with your bear, and who knows what other supernatural beings.”
“If they’re around, then why haven’t they healed Kyle already?”
“They do not seek to cure the afflicted, only arrest the fae who have trespassed.”
Anger boils up in me. “So what? They just leave whoever’s been marked to suffer?” I’m speaking too loudly now, and Crow might hear. Yet, I don’t care. Nothing matters if Kyle is dying.
Liam nods. “It would take a very powerful Dark Court fae to harm a Berserker this much. Lesser fae magic would have simply made him ill for a few hours. Or lose control of his animal for a single shift. Whoever has done this, has truly poisoned Kyle.”
That’s when it dawns on me, and I feel like the stupidest woman alive. I should have seen it, as soon as Liam told me it was a Dark Court mark.
“Braeden did this. It has to be him. Who else would know about Kyle? And he’s powerful enough, isn’t he?” I seethe with rage.
“That was one of my first suspicions, but I know the taste and feel of your half-brother’s magic, Victoria. It is not him.”
“Then it’s someone who’s working with him. It’s the only explanation.” I look behind me and down at Kyle. Crow is still kneeling over him, but his eyes are also closed and he is murmuring something under his breath. Maybe a prayer... a useless gesture when the evil forces at play exempt themselves from a higher power.
“Perhaps, but that is not important right now. I must find a healer, before he is past the point of aide.”
“Past the point of aide?” A pit forms in my stomach. “What the hell do you mean?”
“I mean, if I do not find help for your bear soon, Victoria, he will either die a human or shift and die a bear. Those will be his only options.” He leans forward and whispers gently against my ear. “I will save your bear, My Queen.”
I want to stop him, to remind him that he is a fugitive and a traitor. That finding a Light Court scout might mean his reckoning. I make a choice though.
To let him go.
To love Kyle more.
And I know he can hear my thoughts and I hate that I must hurt him, to save the man I truly love.
Chapter Twenty-One
“CAN YOU HELP ME MOVE him to his office?” I stare at Crow, the man who is slight and small next to the man who is giant and lumberjack worthy.
Crow simply nods and threads him arms beneath Kyle. I go to help, but before I can, he has lifted my beau into the air with a skilled, sweeping movement. He carries him towards the office door and I rush around him to open it. He makes quick work of carrying Kyle sideways into the room, and setting him down gently on the couch.
He is stronger than he looks. Almost unbelievably so.
“Should I open the bar or leave it closed for today.” He glances up at the cheap clock hanging above Kyle’s office door. Opening time is only an hour away.
“Can the bar afford to lose a night’s income?” It’s dumb to focus on the bar’s finances, but it provides a short distraction from what’s happening. And, I’ve got money on the brain thanks to Dean’s urgings for me to be more practical.
“We’ll survive.”
“That’s not good enough,” I shake my head. “Go ahead and open. I’ll stay with him.”
Crow’s gaze finds Kyle’s face, and for a moment I feel I see a flash of silver cross his stare like there is sterling metal caught in the iris of his eyes. I blink, and it is gone. There is something about him that I’ve never noticed. Something roiling beneath the surface of who he pretends to be. My father was never the ultra-wise one growing up; it was always my grandmother. Yet, right now, it is my father’s words that ring true in my head.
People are selves within selves. Russian nesting dolls of truths, and lies, and the secrets that knot them together. Never trust a person that won’t present themselves in totality, with every personality, great and small, un-nested. They might be harmless on the surface, but wolves at their core.
I didn’t realize I was staring at Crow, until he caught me. “Something wrong?” His voice held the promise of a growl. It sent shivers, like an electric fence, up my spine.
“No, nothing’s wrong,” I say quickly.
“All right then. I’ll go get ready to open. Let me know if he needs anything.” Crow walks away, and for the first time I’m struck by the way he moves—soundless, with almost a predatory undertone to the movements.
Kyle trusts him.
I’m not sure I do.
My phone rings as I’m wetting a washcloth in the bathroom to put on Kyle’s forehead. With damp, fumbling fingers, I work the phone out of my jacket pocket and check the ID. It’s Terrance.
“Hey, Terrance. Beginning to think you solved the supernatural arsonist big-bad hellmouth case without me.”
“Wouldn’t that be nice,” Terrance’s sarcasm drips through the phone. “For the police force to be able to deal with every case like it’s an average, ordinary, human problem.”
For a second, I’d forgotten I was a little at odds with Terrance. He’d drawn a line in the sand, as it were. Supernatural versus human. And unfortunately we fell on different sides of the war. I thought after the visit to the neighboring coroner’s office, we’d have pushed that particular issue to the side. Because we’re friends, and that trumps species for me. Obviously though, Terrance was still grappling with his feelings on the matter.
“So what do you want?” I ask, not as nicely as I could have. “Kyle’s sick and I don’t feel like arguing over supernatural versus non- with you right now.”
Terrance clears his throat, and for a moment I think he’s going to try to start a fight anyways, but instead he gets down to business. Little blessings. “You were right. Every other body had one of those Lazarus things in them.”
“Okay, that’s good. You have them all then? We need to destroy them.”
“We had them all. Yes.” Terrance sounds tired.
“You had them all?” I repeat in disbelief. “How do you lose... five big jade stones, Terrance?”
“Yeah, funny thing that. Get all the counties to agree to let us hold them in our evidence locker so they can be examined. And all it takes is a busty woman with her flirt game on point to talk one of my guys into giving her the damn things. It’s all on fucking camera. The deputy couldn’t even string a few words together to admit what happened. It was like he was...” Terrance stops speaking abruptly. “Dammit, Tori. Magic. It was fucking magic. Son of a bitch.”
“Well, I’m guessing it wasn’t just her epic sex appeal.” I sigh and close my eyes. This was not going to do anything to back Terrance off his anti-supernatural kick. “I need to see the security tapes, Terrance. If I had to guess, I’d bet that was Eve, the proverbial first lady witch.”
“She was right here, Tori. Right fucking here, and she walked in and out like she owned the damn place. It’s not right. How can humans fight this shit?” I can feel his anger in emotional spikes jabbing at me.
“Fire with fire, Terrance. Supernatural against supernatural. Aren’t you glad I’m not just an ordinary human?”
“If this shit was eradicated, Tori, I’d be happy as a fucking peach for you to be human.”
His words stung. I wanted off the phone. I wanted to sit by my supernatural boyfriend and say screw humanity.
Even the good ones turn on you.
But I don’t.
Because part of me is human, even if it’s not always the best part of what I am. “As soon as I can leave Kyle, I’ll come to the station.”
Terrance doesn’t respond. He just hangs up. And I’m pissed, because I wanted to be the asshole who didn’t say goodbye.
I SIT BY KYLE THROUGH the late afternoon, into the evening, and well into the night after Crow has left and the bar has fallen quiet. He wanted to stay and help, but I’d told him I was fine. I didn’t want him around, especially not at night in the dark uninhabited bar. I was still getting strange vibes from him. The good old-fashioned heebie-jeebies.
There wasn’t much for entertainment or reading in Kyle’s office. The only catalogues were for restaurant supply, and the only magazines were psychology journals. After much searching, I find an ancient copy of Moby Dick in the lower drawer of his desk. It seems like the sort of epic literary venture Kyle would go on, but I’m surprised when I open it. I see Jim’s name written on the inside cover in sprawling, fading black ink. I smile, because you never really know a person, not the whole person under that nesting doll surface my dad talked about. Jim always seemed like his type of reading would be the pictures in Playboy. Now I knew somewhere, deep down, he harbored an Ahab.
I could believe that.
Kyle’s body takes up the entire couch, and then some, so I settle myself on the floor with my back against the wall. I could have sat in his desk chair, but that thing is torture on the body. It pushes hard in your back, springs poke your ass. Just plain awful.
At some point before I’ve even finished the foreward letter from the edition’s editor about the actual albino whale, Mocha Dick, that inspired the novel, I lean my head back and close my eyes. I don’t mean to doze, but I’m so tired. Emotionally fucking exhausted. And I just need a moment’s reprieve.
A moment stretches into uncomfortable hours, and I blink when a burst of light wakens me. As I flash my lids up and down, I see the world through an inconsistent feathering of lashes. It’s not daytime. I turn to the clock. I think it says five AM. Maybe not. I’m still half-caught in sleepiness. Light sparkles again, like firecrackers on the Fourth of July.
Shifting my body, I lift myself straight against the wall, but I’m not quite cognizant enough to attempt standing yet.
Blink.
Blink. Lashes flutter like butterfly wings. Fog wants to creep into my brain again, and make the synapses quiet as a graveyard.
I blink again, hard and fast and with determination.
Dammit, wake up.
When my vision finally, fully clears, I see a long waterfall of ginger-hued hair. It is nearly carrot-orange and shining like a roadside sign for a motel in sunny, citrus-centric Florida. Glowing like Liam’s does, and like mine does when I’m pregnant with power. Fae. The female is hovering beside the sofa. The glowing sparks that had woken me are shining around her in small bursts without pattern. I try to stand, but I’m stiff and unsteady from being on the floor so long. A familiar grip reaches down and wraps around my waist.
Stay calm and quiet, Victoria. She needs to concentrate if she is to heal Kyle completely. If even a trace of the dark mark is left, he will find himself ill yet again in the near future.
I nod and finish standing with Liam’s help. I lean against him, and the wall, and I am silent as the stranger works her magic on my beau, who is now shirtless and as still as a corpse. I can see his chest, though, rising and falling slowly, almost imperceptibly. What I really want to do is make the fae stop, introduce herself, convince me she means no harm to Kyle.
But Kyle is dead without help. She is the only chance we apparently have. So I must trust that Liam has done a wise thing. Though, I wonder what it will cost him... will the Light Court scouts drag him off to be imprisoned once more or... worse?
I will be safe, My Queen. This fae is to be trusted. I would give her my life, as she would give unto me.
That sounds... serious. I mentally reply back, wondering who this fairy is, and how she’s come to be entwined with my Liam. My Liam. I repeat in my head, knowing how unfair that is. I’ve chosen Kyle, and I have no claim to the fairy stood beside me. Thinking that, I move away from him and steady myself only against the wall. Not touching him makes it easier to focus, and more fair to him in the long run. Because I won’t change my mind. As long as Kyle is alive, I will choose him.
And he needs to stay alive.
Kiera is doing everything she can, My Queen. I hear the tinge of hurt in Liam’s mental voice, and it also hurts me, but I’ve got to stop with the mixed signals. I have to let him know that there’s no possibility, so that he can move on and be with someone who can love him wholly, without hang-up. Maybe this Kiera could be that someone.
The stream of ginger hair sways as the fairy stands tall, waving her hands once more over Kyle’s body, emitting a last stream of pale gold sparks. When she turns around, my eyes are on her fingers—the glowing is fading to smoldering embers. I envy that magic—to heal instead of hold dominion over death and dying things.
My gaze moves up, over her thin yet supple body that is poorly-hidden beneath a transparent white tunic and pants that tie up the sides for range of movement. I want to comment on the attire. I would think a scout would need to be less conspicuous. Perhaps roaming around in camouflage so as not to be seen. As her body moves though, I see how the fabric seems to mirror the room. I can almost see the sofa and shape of Kyle behind her as the reflective material takes on its surroundings. It is a camouflage, in its own way.
Then I get to her face.
Her forgetful face surrounded by ginger hair. It doesn’t matter that she is taller than I recall. Sweating and sparing, giving me advice on my stance.
Garden scents float in my memory. Odd words... a name. Blud-ah Vas.
“You!” I gasp out, taking a step forward and lifting my hands like I’m about to school her in sparring, even though I’m a poor study. I remember everything now, even the flash of her hair as she rounded a street corner. “What the hell!”
“Victoria, stop.” Liam puts his hand on my arm hastily. “She has just cured your bear.”
“What she is, is a fairy freaking stalker. I only have room in my life for one of those. And that’s you.” I glare at Liam, and then turn to glare at the redhead. “Why the hell were you at my self-defense class? And why couldn’t I remember your face until I saw you again right now?” I pause, my eyes widen. “How many times have I met you?”
“Many times,” the tall beautiful fairy responded, her chin tilted up slightly and almost in defiance. “I told Liam it would be easier to make you aware of my presence, but he disagreed. You apparently don’t like to be managed.”
“You... told... Liam.” I turn to Liam, a frown warping my face. “What’s she talking about? You obviously know her. I mean, you basically said you’d give your damn life for her if necessary. You said you were going to find a Light Court Scout, that it was Kyle’s only hope. You made it sound like it was some great noble deed and I was worried, so damn worried, that you’d be caught and taken back to prison. Or maybe worse. So what the hell’s going on?”
Liam sighs and looks past me at Kiera. “Kiera and I are... rather, we were, bonded mates.”
My mouth gapes open. “Bonded mates? Do you mean... you’re freaking married?”
Behind me, Kiera gives a startling, jarring laugh. “Oh, God. No.”
I don’t bother looking at her, but wait for Liam to continue. “We’re not married in your human sense, Victoria. We were deemed compatible over fifty years ago and entered into a contract of breeding. In the fae courts, we marry for love, but we mate for the strength of our species. Our genetic combination,” Liam once again looks behind me towards Kiera, “has produced formidable offspring.”
If my jaw could drop any further, it absolutely would. “Liam, do you have kids?”
“Kiera and I have produced eight younglings.”
&nb
sp; “Eight. You have eight kids. Christ,” I move away from him towards Kyle’s desk. “I need to sit down.”
When I am sat in the terribly-uncomfortable chair, I take a deep breath. “Where are your kids? I mean, are they back with the Light Court? Did you abandon them?”
“Again, we do not treat parenthood the same way the humans do. The children are reared in a convent of sorts. They’re taught our ways, separated into schools of thought by aptitude. They grow fast, and there is little time for the coddling of youth.”
I look between the two elf faces in the room. Kiera stood with her hands on her hips, as if daring me to act like their arrangement was anything save normal. And Liam looking like a boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar, like he hadn’t told me any of this about himself because he maybe knew how I’d react. Actually, I really didn’t know that much about Liam, did I? He was teaching me so much, about the supernatural world, about myself, but rarely did he divulge on personal matters.
Apparently his past was full of little details I might want to know if I was ever to consider dating him. Not that that was on the table.
“So,” I wave a finger between the two fairies, “There’s nothing between you two aside from a contract to make babies and gift your genetic material to the next generation?”
“Kiera holds a special affection in my life, but it is that of a sibling or a cousin. It’s familial, not amorous.” Liam stands completely still now, his hands clasped behind his back.
“Yep, Liam. Totes normal to have babies with your sister. I know a few states that would welcome you with open arms.”
He scoffs. “You cannot be so narrow-minded as to think the human way of approaching life is the only or best way, Victoria.”
“So she’s the Blood Queen,” Kiera changes the subject like whiplash post-car wreck. “Honestly, I don’t see it. I mean, surely the magic could be urged to choose a more appropriate host. We’ve never had an outsider Monarch.”
“She is not an outsider, Kiera.”