CHAPTER 28
Fiona stepped back, fighting the urge to panic. She had seen and smelled too much blood in the past week to mistake it as anything else. The brave front she’d been projecting to keep Walker from worrying about her threatened to crumble, and she closed her eyes for a second to draw in a deep breath. Through her mouth.
Walker looked past her and swore. “It’s human, and there’s enough of it to mean someone isn’t doing well without it. Fiona, you should go back to the car. Graham, take my cell phone and call the club. Get the rest of the pack—”
“No,” she interrupted, squaring her shoulders. “I’m fine. I was just startled. I’m not leaving.”
“Damn it, Princess—”
“I said no.” Her voice sounded stronger this time, and her gaze met his steadily. “I’m staying. You heard what Rule said. If you want Dionnu to talk to you, I have to be with you. Now let’s go.”
Missy shook her head. “Someone was killed in here. There may be other people in this building in trouble. Someone has to check to see if the fiends are here. If anyone else needs help.”
Graham glared at her, the picture of a protective Lupine mate. Fiona had come to recognize the sight.
“It’s sure as hell not going to be you, Melissa,” the alpha growled.
She glared back up at him. “Then you might want to come with me, because I am not leaving a building full of defenseless humans at the mercy of a madman and his herd of attack fiends. These people need help.”
Tess cut in quickly. “We’ll call the pack. The building is too big for us to search alone, anyway. All right?”
“Fine.” Rafe took out his cell phone and turned a stern gaze on his mate. “In the meantime, you and Missy will stay here in the lobby and wait for them. You can direct the search.” Both women began to protest, but they got no further than indrawn breaths. “That way you can also be here if anyone comes down from their apartment in need of help. They will likely be traumatized, and I don’t need to tell you it would make them rest easier if a small spell gave them a more… understandable memory than that of a demon attack?”
Tess threw her husband a dirty look, but she didn’t protest. He had, unfortunately, made sense, and Fiona guessed that both couples had been together long enough for the women to recognize when arguing would be futile.
“Fine,” Tess snapped. “But don’t think I won’t know if anything serious happens, Rafael, and don’t think I’m going to stay down here like a good little mate if it does. Understand?”
Missy crossed her arms over her chest and stepped closer to Tess, giving her own mate a matching look of challenge.
“Understood,” the alpha growled.
Positions settled, Fiona stepped into the elevator car, carefully avoiding the pool of blood. Squick popped his head out over the top of the canvas bag and looked down. “Ew. Messy.”
She knew Walker wasn’t any happier having her get in the elevator than Rafe or Graham would have been if their mates had done it, and it wasn’t even the way he stomped in behind her that gave it away. His glare made his opinion pretty plain. When they got home, she was going to get a lecture. She just knew it.
Taking small, shallow breaths through her mouth, Fiona fixed her gaze on the elevator keypad, watching the numbers of the floors ding by. When the doors slid open on number 17, she hurried out and tripped over her own feet. The apartment building hallway didn’t look anything like she remembered.
Maybe that was because of the doors that had been torn off their hinges and thrown to the ground. Or maybe it was the streaks of blood on the walls or the sickly sweet smell of death in the air, as opposed to the rich scents of wood and furniture polish and fresh flowers she recalled from their last visit. Whatever it was, she didn’t like the change.
Walker grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her back into the elevator. “We’re too fucking late! They’ve already killed Dionnu and every other living thing on this floor! We need to get back to the club and call in reinforcements. This is going to take more than the pack.” He pressed his cell phone into her numb hand. “Fiona, get back downstairs and tell Tess and Missy what happened. Tell them to get more patrols out now. We’ll see if we can contain anything that’s still here, but I’m betting they’re already long gone.” When she just looked up at him in confusion, he nudged her again. “Go!”
“Oh, but why would she leave when she only just arrived, Mr. Walker?”
They all turned at the sound of the voice. Poised in the open doorway of his apartment, Dionnu watched them with an eerie beatific smile on his handsome face. Around his neck, on a heavy gold chain, he wore a finely made amulet, adorned with the largest, most brilliant black opal Fiona had ever seen. He didn’t seem to notice that it, as well as his face and hands and expensive silk suit, was splotched with blood and gore. Or maybe he just didn’t care.
“As you can see, I’m very much alive,” the king continued. “I’m not so vulnerable to the machinations of a few power-hungry demons as you might have suspected. But please, come in. Let me show you what I’ve done with the place.”
He beckoned them forward and Fiona felt herself recoil. It wasn’t so much the bloodshed that disturbed her. It was the glint in his eyes, cold and hard and reptilian, filled with a mad sort of knowledge, or a knowing sort of madness. Walker stepped in front of her, protecting her from that gaze, and she blinked, swallowing hard against a swell of fear.
“If it’s anything like we can see out here,” she said, finding her voice, struggling for a casual tone, “then you might want to consider hiring a new decorator.”
Her uncle chuckled. “Oh no. Decorators can leave a room so cold. So impersonal. I definitely wanted to give this apartment my personal touch. Come in. I insist.”
Still smiling, Dionnu turned and disappeared back inside the apartment.
“There is no way here or in hell that I’m letting my mate go inside that apartment,” Walker said, his hands clenching so tightly that Fiona saw his knuckles turn white.
Graham snorted. “I hope to hell not. He might as well have used the blood to paint the word ‘trap’ over the door.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Fiona said, catching one of Walker’s fists in her hands. “You saw the amulet. We all did. He still has it, and we need to get it back.”
For the first time, Fiona saw Rule hesitate. “I think Walker may be right, Princess,” the demon said. “If your uncle caused all of these deaths, then all of that magic has been absorbed by the amulet. He’ll be high on the power, and far more than merely dangerous. I think you should obey your mate and go back to the car to call for help.”
Before Fiona could repeat her refusal, she felt a surge of magic buffet her, shaking the air around her like a sonic boom. When she looked up, all the interior walls on this floor of the building had disappeared, and her uncle smiled at her from what had once been the living room of his apartment. The expression reminded her of one the spider might wear as it waited for its prey to step into its sticky web.
“You seemed reluctant to cross my threshold,” he said, his voice beautiful and terrifying. “So I thought I would break down a few barriers. Come; I know all your friends. Bring them with you. The more the merrier.”
He laughed, and the sound sent shudders through Fiona. Blinking, horrified, she looked around the vast open area. There were bodies everywhere. Everywhere she turned, she saw death, sprawled on floors, stretched over furniture, battered and broken and bloodied. She could hear the men around her cursing under their breath. Her stomach heaved, and a hot rush of fury filled her.
“You are a monster,” she hissed, her eyes narrowed and accusing. “Why did they all have to die? Weren’t the deaths you’d already caused enough? Humans mean nothing to you! The one you really want dead is Mab, so why haven’t you gone after her? Or are you afraid she’ll kick your ass, the way she’s been doing for centuries?”
Dionnu’s eyes flashed and Walker growled, moving protectively closer to Fiona.
“And here I always considered you a clever girl,” the king said, moving slowly closer. “It seems I gave you too much credit, Niece, if you haven’t yet figured out my plan.”
“Oh, I know all about your plans. Your stolen amulet and your seal on the Faerie gate and the fiendish army you plan to march back into Faerie. An army that would just as soon kill you as march to your war drums.” She sneered, refusing to give him the slightest indication that she ever believed his schemes might work. “But I’m looking around, and I don’t see anything that looks like an army.” She glanced pointedly at the empty space between them. “All I see is a pathetic excuse for a king and the folk who are going to stop him.”
Dionnu threw back his head and laughed uproariously. “Oh, you foolish child,” he said, his expression gloating. “You may be monumentally stupid, but you do amuse me. Perhaps I’ll keep you in iron chains for a few thousand years before I let you die. Do you really think that you and your puppy dogs, your kitty, and your one pathetic swordsman can do anything to stop me?”
He stepped even closer, ignoring the Lupines’ threatening snarls and the hiss of Rule’s blade sliding from its sheath.
“Like I said, Uncle, you’re only one man. Your army isn’t here.”
His lips curved, as thin and sinuous as a snake. “I have an army at my fingertips. I have just feasted, foolish girl. The power of each and every soul I’ve tasted is within this amulet. With it, I can summon an army the likes of which have never been seen, not even during the last Wars.” He chuckled, a brittle, malevolent sound. “I can’t wait to see the looks on the faces of the Seelie Court when they see my army of fiends and realize what their long-heralded peace treaty has wrought.”
“You won’t be allowed to summon that army,” Rule said. His voice was firm and level and brooked no disagreement.
Dionnu turned on him with a sneer. “You think you can stop me? You, a girl, and a few mongrels?”
“These mongrels have claws,” Rafe hissed, muscles rippling as he began to call his change. Beside him, Graham echoed the sentiment with a low, threatening growl.
“I have no fear of you,” Dionnu dismissed, “or of your blade, warrior. It cannot harm me. No Fae can be slain with silver.”
Rule’s mouth curved in a grim, humorless smile. “My blade is steel, not silver. With iron enough to spill your blood.”
Without a word or a betraying twitch, Rule lunged forward. His sword tip pointed straight at the Fae king’s throat, but it never made contact. With a furious shout, Dionnu lifted a hand and sent a ball of sickly green light barreling toward the demon’s chest. It hit him with the force of a train, knocking him off balance and deflecting the blow meant for Dionnu’s jugular. The momentum of the blast sent Rule flying backward a good fifteen feet before he crashed into someone’s bookcase in the next apartment. He thudded to the floor.
Smiling, Dionnu turned back to Fiona. “You see how little power your friends have to hurt me? Don’t waste my time with further, futile attempts.”
“I see it less as a waste of time, Uncle, and more as an investment in the future.”
“What future? I’m very afraid to have to tell you, my dear Fiona, that you have no future.” He chuckled. “Do you think I am unaware of the attempts my fiends have made to free themselves from my control? Don’t be silly. Of course I knew. I expected it. Why do you think I hexed the gate to seal itself if anyone attempted to enter from Faerie? Without high Fae blood, they could never have mustered the power to break the hold of the amulet.”
Fiona’s lip curled. “You might want to work on that hex of yours, then. As you can see, I got through.”
Dionnu waved his hand dismissively. “A minor inconvenience. True, I was a tad upset when you first appeared on my doorstop, but I soon realized your presence could be the greatest boon I could hope for. After all, if the power of the death of a high Fae could break the bonds of the amulet, just think what the power of that death, channeled through the amulet, could accomplish.” He stared at her, his eyes gleaming. “My dear niece, spilling your blood will make me indestructible. No one will be able to harm me. Not the fiends, not the Fae, not even your lovely aunt. Now come.” He held out his hand. “I can at least make it quick for you.”
He didn’t make it anything. He didn’t even have time to make a sound before Walker was on him, shifting in midflight, howling in outrage. Graham followed a split second later, fangs reaching for the throat with savage instinct. But the power flowing through Dionnu was too strong. His arm came up to protect his vulnerable throat, and Graham’s teeth sank deep into the flesh of Dionnu’s forearm, tearing at muscle and tendon.
Dionnu screamed, high and outraged. Walker checked his attack and twisted to the side, trying to come around on the king’s vulnerable flank, but the Fae raised his other arm, sending a spell blasting into Walker’s side.
The Lupine yelped, a sharp, pained sound, and fell to his side, panting heavily. Cursing and bleeding, Dionnu aimed a second blast at Graham and sent the second Lupine sprawling. The king struggled to his feet and savagely kicked the alpha’s heaving side.
“Mongrel beasts!” Dionnu spit, cradling his injured arm to his chest. “I’ll have their skins for a carpet. Just as soon as I’ve finished with you.”
Stretching out his good hand, Dionnu reached for Fiona and found himself grasping air. Rafael had launched himself at her side and sent her staggering out of reach. Outraged, the king screamed and turned to blast the Felix, but the nimble werejaguar had already darted away. Spitting curses, Dionnu grasped the amulet around his neck and chanted a few words. Suddenly he blinked out of view, reappearing a heartbeat later beside his niece’s blinking form. He grabbed her by the arm and repeated the chant just as Walker pushed himself to his feet and launched a renewed attack.
Both Dionnu and Fiona disappeared a split second before the werewolf made impact, this time materializing across the floor in what had once been a spare, empty room.
Fiona looked around, confused, until her gaze fell to the floor. Her heart skipped a beat and her blood seemed to freeze in her veins.
On the polished wooden floorboards, painted in blood, she saw a large, perfectly round circle. In the center and at the sides in each of the cardinal directions, sigils had been painted. She recognized them as slight variations on the ones the fiends had been using to try to break the hold of the amulet. Lying atop the glyph at the center of the circle, Fiona spotted a dark, glistening dagger the color of coal with a long handle of dark, carved wood. A cold iron blade, she realized, with a wooden handle to allow her uncle to wield it without injury.
Iron was the only metal that could kill the Fae. Their own weapons and tools were made of silver, gold, and bronze. When she saw the iron blade, she felt a surge of panic and began to struggle against her uncle’s punishing grip.
“Don’t fight me!” he shouted, dragging her toward the sacrificial circle. “I can still make your death a very painful event, girl! Remember that.”
Fiona had no doubt he would do that anyway. Frantic, she looked around her. Both Rule and Walker were pushing themselves to their feet, looking dazed and a little unsteady. She had no idea if either of them could reach her in time. Graham lay on the floor, unmoving but still breathing. Either her uncle’s kick had damaged something serious or the magical blast had paralyzed the alpha. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Rafe approaching from the opposite side. She had to keep herself out of the magical circle until one of them reached her.
Her fingers curled into claws, and she raked at her uncle’s injured arm, hoping to weaken his grip with the other. He swore and yanked her hard, but he didn’t let go. She was fighting like a banshee now, screaming and squirming and kicking, intent only on getting away, on staying out of that circle and away from that iron blade. She wasn’t prepared to die. Not that any Fae ever was, but she had other things to do. She had a mate! She had to learn how to live with him and how to deal with the mortal-versus-immortal thing and how to teach him to stop trying to tell her what to do every time he opened his mouth. She couldn’t die.
As they passed by what had once been a small bathroom, Fiona reached out and grabbed at the exposed pipes of the wet wall. She didn’t just curl her hand around a pipe; she used her entire arm, hooking her elbow and utilizing all the strength of her upper body to anchor her in place.
Dionnu cursed and yanked her other arm violently. Fiona screeched, feeling her shoulder pulled painfully from its socket, but she didn’t let go.
“Walker!” she screamed, her voice hoarse with panic. “Help!”
She couldn’t tell which Other hit her uncle first, but it didn’t really matter. What mattered was that Dionnu let go. Momentum sent her spinning around the other side of the pipe, like an overdressed pole dancer. She landed hard on her back and doubled over on a wave of nausea, pulling her injured arm protectively against her stomach. Her shoulder throbbed and burned, and she choked on the taste of bile.
“Walker,” she panted, raising her head and blinking against the blurring of her vision. When it cleared, she saw Rule, Graham, and Rafe pounding at the invisible boundaries of the circle as her uncle dumped her mate’s limp body on the floor at the center.
“I can’t get in!” Rule bellowed. “It must be warded against demons! I can’t get in or out!”
In his animal form, Rafe couldn’t speak, but his similar inability to get into the circle was clear.
Fiona struggled to her feet, her heart pounding wildly in her throat. She saw her uncle like a twisted mirror image of herself, also cradling an injured arm, but with the other he reached for the iron blade. Iron might be the only thing that could kill a Fae, but any metal thrust into the heart of a Lupine would do the job. Frantically Fiona tried to summon the energy to cast a spell. A missile, a fireball. Hell, even pulling a rabbit out of a hat would have been good enough for her if it broke her uncle’s concentration enough to draw his attention away from her mate. It was no use. Like Walker had said earlier, she hadn’t had time to recharge the energy she’d expended during the demon attack in the park.
Cursing and sobbing, she scraped up every stray bit of energy in the building, in the city, in her own soul, and wrapped it around her like a blanket. It wasn’t enough to do her uncle any harm, but it might just be enough to protect her against the wards of the circle long enough for her to get inside.
Gritting her teeth, Fiona threw herself forward, forging through the boundary of the circle, determined to do whatever she had to to keep her mate safe. The adversarial magic burned like fire even through the protection she’d gathered around herself, but she ignored it. Nothing mattered but Walker. If she could force Dionnu to drop the knife, she would, and if she had to put her own body in front of that knife, she would do that, too.
When she entered the circle her uncle screamed obscenities and turned his rage on her. Lunging at her, he plunged the knife in the direction of her heart. She spun and leaned, barely dodging the blow, and shouted for her mate.
“Walker! Walker, you have to move! Hurry! Please! You have to get out of the way!”
“He’s not going anywhere,” Dionnu sneered, squaring off against her once more. “And neither are you. It will be very sweet to see you die together with your new pet, Niece.”
Walker stirred, lifting his head weakly off the ground. The movement distracted Fiona enough that she almost didn’t dodge in time. The edge of the blade missed her stomach, but when she jumped to the side it caught her on the leg, opening a hair-thin scratch in her thigh.
The pain winded her. She’d never been injured by iron before, but now she knew that the stories of the damage it caused to her people hadn’t been exaggerated. Crying out, she fell to her knees beside her mate while tendrils of icy agony wrapped around her wounded leg. As if from a distance, she could hear Rule shouting, hear Rafe roaring and hissing outside the circle. The world seemed to slow around her, like in a movie, and she looked down, the tilt of her head seeming to take hours. Out of the corner of her eye she could see the look of satisfaction blooming across her uncle’s face, see him preparing to strike the final blow that would kill her. Strangely, it didn’t matter. Fiona blinked and focused on the eyes of her mate, seeing his anger and grief and love shining back at her more clearly than sunlight.
I love you, Princess.
She could almost hear his voice in her head, deep and low and warm, wrapping around her like an embrace, taking all the pain from her and leaving her with nothing but joy.
I love you, Fiona. My mate.
Maybe she was hallucinating, but it didn’t matter. Even if those weren’t the words in his mind, she knew they were the words in his heart. They were the same words in hers. She only hoped he could see them as clearly.
I love you, too, Tobias Walker. Mo fáell. My mate.
In her peripheral vision, she saw her uncle’s arm lift, saw the dull glint of the knife, felt her muscles tense against the coming blow. The blow that never landed.
Suddenly, unbelievably, Fiona felt a surge of energy hit her with the force of a tsunami. Stronger than anything she’d ever experienced. It burned hotter than the magic of passion, deeper than the magic of Faerie. It filled every part of her, every hidden corner and crevice, and suddenly she slipped out of slow motion while the rest of the world remained locked at half speed.
She heard the sound of Dionnu’s triumphant roar, Walker’s agonized scream. She saw the knife descend and raised her hand casually, as if to brush it away. A flash of light sparked from her fingertips, bright and white and blindingly pure. It caught Dionnu in the center of the chest and seemed to tear right through him as if he were made of paper. It coursed through him like lightning, making his skin glow with an eerie fire. His gloating roar turned into a scream of pain and rage. The knife slipped from his hands and clattered harmlessly to the floor. His wide, uncomprehending eyes locked on Fiona’s face for one extended moment before the light reached his head, and it seemed to flare even more brightly before it died. In the sudden dimness, Dionnu’s body slipped lifelessly to the ground.
Shaking like a drunk, Fiona turned and reached for Walker. She had both hands buried in his fur before she realized her shoulder felt fine. Blinking, she looked at it, then looked down at her thigh. There was a slice in the fabric of her jeans, but the skin beneath was pale and whole and unmarred. Slowly, she began to smile.
The first flash of the power had faded, but she could still feel it tingling inside her. Carefully, she willed it down through her hands and into Walker’s body to mend bone and skin and tissue. She saw his surprise as he gazed up at her, and her smile became a grin.
He didn’t wait for her hands to leave him before he shifted.
“What the hell happened? How did you do that?” he demanded as soon as he had the necessary arrangement of vocal cords. “You told me you used up all your energy.”
She shrugged and leaned forward to kiss him, her lips curved against his. “I got more.”
Outside the circle, Rule threw back his head and laughed. “What else could have stood up against all that death magic?” he asked, resting the point of his sword on the floorboards. “Clever little sidhe.”
Fiona shook her head and laughed. “Not so clever. Really, I was pretty much expecting to die.” She looked back at Walker and felt her smile grow tender. “Turns out passion isn’t the only thing that gives me magic.” She laid her hand on his cheek and let her feelings for him shine bright in her eyes. “Love works even better.”