by Cecy Robson
“What happened to Jane’s wards?” he asks. “She worked night and day to reinforce them.”
“I weakened them,” I reply, recalling how they shattered like glass.
Ryker tosses his towel aside. “How exactly? You’re Life―”
“So, I’ve heard,” I mutter.
The edges of his mouth curve and I swear I almost prance around the room in victory. “Your magic shouldn’t have clashed with hers,” he tells me.
“I know. Somehow, it did,” I reply. “I tried fighting the hounds while we were still in the house.” I explain about the knife throwing and how I shot my power through the door.
Ryker’s brows tighten further. “Olivia, that shouldn’t have affected the wards.”
“Yet it did,” I say. “The harder I fought, the quicker the wards came down. The force was unbelievable. It brought Bill’s place down like a kick to a pile of empty boxes.” Images of the hounds tearing through the roof punch through my thoughts. “Nothing worked as it should.”
Ryker places his hand on my lower back and leads me to the stack of exercise mats. My body warms from the reassurance of his touch, but I can’t enjoy it. Everything we counted on to protect and shield us failed. Something went very wrong.
And I’m not the only one who sees it.
I look to Ryker’s impenetrable stance. “We were betrayed, again,” I say. I don’t sound as distressed as I should feel. It should scare me except I’m not as naïve as I used to be.
Ryker sits, waiting for me to join him before he continues. “I think it’s Bill.”
I shake my head. “It can’t be.”
Ryker squares his gaze on me. “It was his home, Olivia. His wards initiated by a priestess he sought independently of Jane. He knew them better than anyone.”
“Jane’s magic is powerful,” I argue. “It would have offered additional protection.”
“Not necessarily,” he adds gruffly. “Jane only reinforced what was already in place.”
He waits, allowing me to take in his theory. I never pegged Bill for a bad guy. And in many ways, I still can’t. As angry and distrustful as he is of Ryker, I’m not certain I can take that final leap.
“Maybe the other priestess, I don’t know, sucked―or wasn’t as powerful,” I offer. The look Ryker shoots me informs me I’m the dumbest being to ever don pink boots.
“He knew you were there alone with Stevie.”
“You and Jane did, too,” I point out.
He tilts his head ever so slightly. “Are you saying it was one of us?”
“No, no, of course not, I just . . . Ryker, it can’t be Bill. I know him. He’s practically family.” I stand, needing to pace, only to sit again. My hands chill and I clutch them to my chest. “He wouldn’t do that to me.”
“Olivia,” Ryker says gently. “You’re no longer a pixie without magic. You’re a threat to him and anyone in his station among the Fae.”
“Bill doesn’t care about his place among the Fae. He leads our people because we respect his wisdom and strength. It’s why his connection to the Ancients has solidified.”
Ryker passes a hand over his face. “That day Cathasach invaded Bill’s office may have something to do with it.”
“How so?” I ask.
“You told me Bill was bitten. Perhaps it helped Cathasach locate and somehow mark Bill.”
“Is that even possible?” I ask.
Ryker rubs his jaw, passing a thumb over his dimple several times before speaking. “I don’t know. Those who are bitten by the Cù-Sìth don’t live to tell their secrets.” His voice hardens. “Your magic burned the hound that tried to tear your throat out. He managed a small taste before your power ignited him. I seized the moment and brought you here.”
I wondered what happened, not that I bothered asking. I was just grateful to be alive.
Again, Ryker had arrived to help. I place my hand on his thigh and squeeze. “Thank you. I don’t think I tell you that enough. But please understand that your friendship means the world to me.”
He dips his chin, barely acknowledging my words. “I’ve wondered that in acquiring a taste of Bill, Cathasach could compel him to do his bidding.”
My hand slips from his leg. “I understand where you’re going with this, and your suspicions of Bill. But I can’t believe he’d hurt me or betray our kind. He’s counting on me to save us.”
“Or so he claims,” Ryker adds.
“Ryker . . . no.”
“Olivia, my theory is questionable, but I have no other explanation. Do you?”
I groan and push back my hair. Ryker has a point; only he, Bill, and Jane knew where we were. We didn’t even tell Stevie. We just brought him to Glen Cove. “What about Stevie’s electronic devices?” I ask. “His phone? His iPad? Could the gremlins or whatever is working with Cathasach track him using his portable devices?”
“Both your devices and Stevie’s were new and untraceable.”
“Oh,” I say quietly. “Wait. And who provided us with these untraceable devices?”
“Bill,” Ryker answers, curtly.
“Figures,” I mutter.
We sit quietly. I don’t realize my hand has returned to Ryker’s thigh until I catch the way he fixes on me touching him. I should move my hand away. Instead I offer another squeeze. I’ve missed him. It feels good to have him beside me.
Ryker watches me. “I heard you call to me and yell my name. The pack anticipated my arrival and surrounded the area long before I arrived.” He releases a long breath. “My apologies for not reaching you sooner.”
My brows pucker. “You still made it, Ryker. I’m not sitting here because of Stevie, or Jane, and I’m especially not here because of me. You rescued me in the nick of time, again. Seriously, at this rate you need to start charging.” I flick the edges of his shorts. “You’re missing out on some big bucks, counselor.”
He smirks. “I doubt you can afford my services.”
“Maybe I can find another way to thank you,” I offer without thinking.
Our smiles fade and those startling irises weld me to him. I don’t know exactly what happens. I just know I want him.
Ryker is no longer a friend. He’s a lover whose body needs to press hard against me as I writhe beneath and beg for his pleasure.
My hand tightens over his leg. I lean forward, eager for his mouth, his taste. His eyes widen as I close in . . . and lower as he bends and circles my waist possessively. My tongue grazes the top of his lip. We’ve never touched like this before . . .
“Hey!” Stevie calls, making us jump. He skips down the stairs, gradually slowing to a stop when he spots us in our pre-coitus position.
I jerk my hands from Ryker as if burned. Stevie gapes as Ryker’s arms leisurely slip from my waist. “Awk-ward,” Stevie sings.
Vanessa launches into a frenzy, humming loud enough to bounce and clatter the sea chest she’s stuffed in. I’m really starting to resent that utensil from hell.
Stevie’s focus dances between us. He holds out my phone. “Bill just texted you. Something about finding Cathasach’s lair.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The heels of my pink boots dig into the forest ground of the 28th floor. Bark and pine needles kick up with how hard I pace. Ryker didn’t bother with a nice suit. Azure armor covers every inch of his hulking form.
“This sucks serious Vanessa-wanting eggs,” I mutter.
Bill glances up from the giant table where he and Ryker analyze a large-scale map of Harsimus, a six-acre cemetery in Jersey City. “Who?” he asks.
I cringe. “Never mind.”
“You’re certain Cathasach is here?” Ryker asks.
“That’s what our sources tell us,” Bill answers. He traces his finger along the map. “The grounds are immense. I’m not quite sure how to pinpoint his location.”
“If I’m close enough, I’ll find him,” Ryker replies, his raspy timbre stiff.
“Very well,” Bill says, his voice weary. “
The Ancients and Fae in league with us agree, we fight in a week’s time.” His soft brown eyes sweep over me. “I hope that will give you enough time to heal.”
“It will,” I assure him. It’s what I say. I don’t want him to know it will likely take longer than that.
Frankie walks around the wide tree trunk table and offers me a seat. I take it only to appear calmer in Stevie’s presence. The Ancients stowed Mr. Sebastian in protective hiding the night before Cathasach was to come for him. So far, Sebastian and Stevie remain safe. It won’t last. The clock is ticking, and poor Stevie knows it.
Jane shuffles along the ground, her long black dress trailing behind her, collecting dry leaves and debris. When she reaches me, her magic levitates her and gently places her in the seat beside me. She seems to have aged since the last time I saw her. It makes me sad. “Are you tired?” I ask. She nods. “Becoming the hydra wore you out. Didn’t it, Jane?”
She offers me a small wrinkly smile and pats my leg. It’s her way of telling me not to worry. I will and always would. Jane is that rare kind of friend I never expected to make, and I cherish her more than I’m able to put into words.
To demonstrate that her druidness still kicks ass, Jane’s minions of birds and fireflies appear in a rush, carrying trays of hors d’oeuvres. Stevie snags an entire tray of pigs in a blanket to wolf down. I take several prawns set in tiny shot glasses filled with cocktail sauce.
The calories do me a great deal of good. I’ve never healed this slowly. I understand my skull was crushed and my brain damaged, but everything hurts more than it should.
Ryker thinks my residual magic kept me alive. Any other Fae, even one as strong as Bill, wouldn’t have survived the blows. Ryker also claims I was lucky to land the way I did, and that next time, a strike like that would kill me.
“Why are we attacking on Halloween?” I ask after swallowing my weight in mini quiches. I accept a cloth napkin from a passing butterfly the size of my leg. “Forget that it sounds cliché, it’s the creepiest night of the year. Can’t we wait until Thanksgiving? Or maybe Easter? Give me bunnies and Peeps. I’m tired of death hounds and festering alphas.”
Humor is wasted on the Dead and apparently everyone else.
Ryker shakes his head. “Death gathers on nights when Earth’s magic is at is strongest. Halloween falls on one of those nights. If we’re to annihilate the Cù-Sìth, we need them all in one place.”
The quiche and shrimp do a few back flips in my stomach. “Death gathers on that night, that means other form of it can join the Cù-Sìth.”
The tension building in Ryker’s shoulders does nothing to soothe me. Neither does what follows. “Most forms of Death avoid each other as they’re competing for the same food.”
“But it’s possible,” I say. “On Halloween.”
“Yes,” he answers.
Stevie swears and reaches for a passing platter of mini pizzas. Good for him. My stomach recommends we never eat again.
Frankie swears, too. “With so many goddamn hounds, how will you ever get Cathasach alone?”
Ryker fiddles with the hilt of his dagger. “In the hours before, I’ll cage several hounds and secure them at different locations. Once our allies are in position, my warriors and I will kill them.”
Frankie shoots out a hand. “Wait a minute. You’re going to bait Cathasach using other souls?” Ryker allows his closed mouth to answer for him. Smoke trails from Frankie’s nose. “Fuck that!”
Bill glances up from marking something on the map. “Frankie, calm down.”
“Don’t tell me to calm down,” Frankie snaps. “These poor Fae have suffered long and hard and now you’re saying we get to watch them be re-eaten? That’s the best you’ve got?”
Ryker rounds on him. “They’re prisoners. That won’t change so long as long as the Cù-Sìth reign.”
Frankie flinches yet holds his ground. “What if Dahlia’s there?” He looks at me. “What if she’s one of those released just so those assholes can devour her again?”
I understand his pain. “Frankie, I saw my mother’s face protrude from the body of a Cù-Sìth the night Dahlia died.” His lips part. “I felt her fear and pain when the creature forced back inside. I can’t tell you what it did to me and how helpless I felt. What I can tell you is no matter what I felt; those souls feel more. This is our chance to end their torment. We have to take it.”
Frankie lowers his head. “Sorry, I just . . .” He clears his throat, allowing the last of his smoke to stream from his lips. “Never mind. Just tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it.”
The suffering Frankie feels spills along face, as does his determination. Frankie won’t abandon us. “Thank you,” I tell him quietly.
Ryker returns his attention to the map. “As soon as I find Cathasach, Olivia and I will attack.”
Frankie circles the table, eyeing the large territory that makes up the cemetery. “How many Cù-Sìth are we looking at?”
Ryker gives it some though. “Between my kills and Olivia’s, roughly seventy.”
Bill swipes his head with a heavy hand. I didn’t realize how much he’s sweating until streams of his perspiration soak into his hair. “There could be more?” he asks. Ryker nods. “Well, let’s hope for less.”
Bill returns to the map, not that he really sees it anymore. “Jane and the Ancients will take point here, here, here, and there,” he says, pointing to each mark he made. “At your signal, they’ll remove their talismans, drawing the hounds away from you and giving you time to kill Cathasach. As soon as he’s dead, and the hounds become mortal, our allies will attack.”
“How many Fae have agreed to join us?” Ryker asks.
Misery clouds Bill’s features. “In addition to Frankie, and two other dragons, we have three gargoyles, including myself.”
“And?” I ask.
“A nymph and two leprechauns have also come forth,” Bill adds.
I’m not trying to be a Debbie Downer, but you have to be fucking kidding me.
By some miracle, I manage to keep my mouth shut. Frankie doesn’t.
“Are you shitting me?” Frankie says. “Every Fae out there has lost friends and family to these mutts. Why aren’t they stepping up? This isn’t just for the Fae, Earth is at stake if we don’t stop them.”
“Fear reigns more than vengeance,” Bill says. Sweat drips down his forehead. “But there’s time. With luck, and the right words, more will come forward.”
Nine Fae, four Ancients, and us. I try not to hurl. Even if we kill Cathasach, we don’t have the numbers to take down an army of death hounds.
“The Ancients are powerful and lethal,” Bill reminds us. “But we must preserve them at all costs.” He narrows his gaze at Jane. “If Olivia and Ryker fail to kill Cathasach, the Ancients are to return their talismans to their necks and materialize to safety. Isn’t that right, Jane?”
Jane purses her lips, her way of saying, she isn’t agreeing to anything, won’t materialize anywhere, and that the Cù-Sìth can kiss her three-foot long sagging ass.
My hand clasps her bony shoulder. “What if the talismans don’t work?” Everyone looks at me as if slapped. “I’m serious. They didn’t work last time.”
A little possum jumps on the table and starts pouring shots of Scotch. Either Jane summoned him, or the little guy guessed the bottles of chilled champagne with strawberries won’t cut it.
Bill takes a shot and plops into the throne-like chair. “I have no answers. For the time being they’re working, and the Ancients will reinforce them before battle.”
He takes a sip of Scotch, followed by another. I think it’s too strong until he pours the whole thing down his throat. “I hope we’re enough. Dear stars, we need to be.”
Bill resembles nothing short of death warmed over. Perspiration saturates his face and his dark skin acquires a gray tone. The stress has taken its toll on his glamour and dulled his beauty. This isn’t the Bill I know, the one with quiet confidence and t
he grace of a king. This is a desperate male.
I don’t want to admit that Ryker is right and that Bill, this male I’ve admired since the day we met could betray me. I also don’t have the luxury of being blind nor naive. Too many lives are at stake.
Ryker edges his way to me. “Are we all in agreement?” he asks. Everyone nods except for Bill. He holds his Scotch and stares in the direction of the trees where Stevie first appeared. Ryker notices. “Very well,” he says, looking at Bill as he speaks. “If you’ll excuse us, Olivia needs to rest and prepare.”
Like a gentleman, Ryker pulls the chair out for me.
Stevie shoves the last pizza in his mouth, still chewing as he reaches for a tray of crab cakes hefted by a flock of emerald birds. “Can I take this with us?” he asks. “I’m still kinda hungry.” At Jane’s grin, he snatches the tray and hurries to catch us. “Can we watch The Avengers tonight? I’m in the mood for some fantasy. Reality is too scary, man.”
“Sure,” I say.
“Olivia,” Bill says, calling to me.
“Yes, Bill?”
“I’m very sorry,” he says.
I freeze. “About what?” I ask.
I think he’s ready to tell me something important. Instead he says, “About everything, child.”
And then he’s gone.
Those who remain mutter quietly among themselves, making plans to recruit family or send them abroad to England for safekeeping. I’m blinking at the empty space where Bill sat.
Jane waves her candy cane wand and Stevie dematerializes. I look up at Ryker when he places his arm around me, my heart breaking. His expression gives nothing away.
The air snaps, darkness cloaks me, and we return to Ryker’s loft.
I’m not sure if Bill caught my expression, the one that begged him to stay true to me and the Fae. I hope he did. I hope I’m wrong and he left to recruit as many fighters as he can.
Stevie sits on the couch and perches the tray of crab cakes on his lap as he fumbles with the remote. “All right. We’re good,” he says. “It’s still early. I think we can make it through Civil War if we start now.”