Savior's Spell: A fae and fur urban fantasy (Spellcaster Series Book 1)

by Gwen Rivers

  Liam’s green eye burned with intensity. “You need that to defeat the dark fae.”

  I shook my head. “And you were right. If I can’t stop him, he’ll have a weapon that will only make him stronger. So maybe the way to defeat them is to deny them what they want most.”

  I turned and was fully prepared to walk out the door when Liam called, “Emma, we can help you.”

  “There aren’t enough of us.” A blond-bearded werewolf protested. “Not enough to cover the PR as it is, never mind track with her.”

  Liam turned that intensity on him. “The fae will guard the PR themselves.”

  Around the room, jaws dropped.

  Liam put his palms flat on the table and then pushed up out of his seat. “I screwed up. We all have. We’ve treated the forever young as if they were helpless. The fact that they are still alive proves they are not. I’ve spoken to the queen and she agreed to get in touch with the Seelie kings for their support. The fae need to take care of themselves within the PR.”

  Autumn nodded slowly. “The younger ones, the ones who had been going to lessons and training turned the tide in the attack. They held the line until we got there. If not for them, all the fae in that warehouse would be dust. Imagine how different the outcome would have been if more of them could have fought?”

  “We can’t do it all.” Liam held my gaze as he spoke. “We need to go where we can do the most good. We have the ability to make a difference. To the savior as well as to the fae.”

  “So, what’s the plan then?” The smaller werewolf, the one with the bandage around his head, asked.

  Liam looked at them one at a time. “We need to leave them here, seal them inside until it is over. Along with all of our shards from the Stone of Destiny.”

  “Without the shards we can’t get back in,” Rubio leaned forward.

  Liam’s multicolored gaze swept the room. “Our job is to protect them out there against the humans they can’t harm. The ones who will harm them. This place isn’t for us, it’s for them. And it’s time they begin to use it.”

  “A one-way ticket,” Gray breathed.

  “Unless the savior has a better plan?” Liam looked to me.

  I couldn’t read the expression in his eyes. Slowly, I shook my head. “You still have my shard?”

  Liam reached into the pocket of his jeans and extracted the necklace he had given me.

  “You’re fae,” Autumn tilted her head to the side. “You belong here.”

  “Says who?” Rubio folded his arms over his chest.

  I looked at the Latin prick. “I’m a spellcaster, they don’t want me here. Malcolm already got in once because of me. I won’t let that happen again.”

  Liam walked around the table, collecting the stones from his pack. “We’ll rendezvous at Gray’s house at oh-eight hundred. Dismissed.”

  I waited until all the werewolves filed out of the room before looking to Liam.

  “I’m sorry,” he began.

  I held up a hand. “Don’t.”

  He ran a hand through his hair. “I didn’t handle this well. Not discovering that you are my mate, or the savior. Not the PR or the fae. None of it.”

  My heart hurt. “It’s not your fault, Liam. You found a couple of strays and did your best. But I’m broken beyond repair.”

  He shook his head vehemently. “You’re not.”

  “I am. You saw it, didn’t you? The night I kissed you?”

  His multihued eyes were fraught with emotion. “You started to cry.”

  “Did you also see that I wanted it? That I wanted him?”

  His hands clenched into fists. “Stop it, Emma.”

  I pushed back from the table and got to my feet. “I’m broken. Your mate was shattered to a million pieces before you even met her.”

  He shook his head, denying my words. “I don’t believe that.”’

  A sad smile stole over my face. Poor werewolf. “Some things are true whether you believe them or not.”

  Liam swallowed. “Do you still…want him?”

  I want you. The words lodged themselves in my throat. I couldn’t say them. I’d already done enough damage to the werewolf. But I couldn’t let him think that my going after Malcolm was about sex. I shook my head back and forth.

  He closed his eyes and nodded.

  I turned away.

  “Emma?”

  I paused, my hand on the doorknob.

  His dark brows were furrowed. “I don’t know how to let you go.”

  “Baby, I’m already gone.” I slipped through the door, pulling it shut with a final sounding click.

  I want you. Liam’s heart thundered in his chest. He’d heard her voice. Heard her wish. She hadn’t spoken aloud but damn it, he had heard her.

  “North!” he barked.

  His PA popped into an antique umbrella stand in the corner. “Da?”

  “I assume you heard all of that.”

  “Da.” No shame in the sylph’s spying game. “The question is, why aren’t you chasing after her?”

  Liam ignored the advice. “Make sure Emma doesn’t leave the PR on her own. I need time.”

  To his credit, North didn’t ask what for, he just left.

  Fishing his phone out of his back pocket, Liam dialed a familiar number.

  “Uncle Liam?” Addison answered.

  “Yeah, it’s me. Is Chloe around?”

  There was a pause and then Addison murmured, “You want to talk to Chloe?”

  Not especially. He and the final fate didn’t get along. She didn’t appreciate werewolves and, as she had once said to his face, “I have no use for alphaholes.”

  Yet she was the only being he could think of that might have the answers he needed. “Yeah, is she around?”

  There was a shuffling sound and then the creak of a door. The murmur of voices.

  Then a hesitant female voice that was even higher in pitch than Addison’s said, “Hello?”

  Liam got straight to the point. “I need to know about the prophecy of the savior.”

  “Just fine, werewolf. Thanks for checking. How’s the weather in the PR?”

  Huh? “Who cares about the weather? I need to know about the poem.”

  The scrape of a door and then she said, “Just FYI, next time you need a favor, maybe you ought to pretend that you actually give a damn about the person you are asking for help. It’s called a give and—”

  He cut her off. “The prophesy, Chloe. The savior is here and she has the sword of destiny.”

  Silence.

  “Sooner would be better.” One problem with immortal beings. They acted like they had all the time in the worlds. Because they did.

  “Let me get back to you.” The line went dead.

  Liam paced the confines of the room. There had to be a way out of the prophecy. There must be.

  The phone rang and the Norn’s impish face popped up on the screen. “Hello?”

  “Get a piece of paper and write this down,” Chloe instructed. “Tell me when you’re ready.”

  Liam balked at the order. She wasn’t the queen, but he didn’t bother to argue. Instead, he yanked open the conference room door and strode past Autumn, Rubio and Gray who’d been lurking in the hall, and into his office.

  The three wolves watched as he rummaged in the side cabinet and extracted a legal pad.

  “Okay.”

  Chloe began speaking in a slow, sing-song way.

  “Now in their darkest hour

  One shall rise who wields the power

  To resurrect what has been lost

  Magic bought at a terrible cost.

  Blood of the children, his to spill

  As they abandon Underhill.

  ‘Til the sword does appear

  All the fae will live in fear

  What can’t be replaced, she must give

  So the forever young might live.”

  Liam finished writing and then reread the lines. He ran a hand through his hair. “What can’t
be replaced, she must give. You’re sure that’s it exactly?”

  “Do I tell you how to run your kennel?” the Fate snapped.

  Liam sagged against the wall. “So why did Skathi tell me the savior had to die?”

  “That’s the problem with prophecy,” Chloe murmured. “It’s always open to interpretation.”

  Liam swallowed. She didn’t have to die, didn’t have to sacrifice her life to that sick bastard brother of hers.

  “The savior is your mate, isn’t she?” Chloe’s voice was softer.

  “Yes.”

  “Tread carefully, Alpha. You have two points of fate converging on her but she still has free will. Anything can happen.”

  “So what the fuck is the point of a prophecy?” he snapped.

  Her tone was nonchalant. “Adds a little spice to life, doesn’t it?” She hung up.

  “Liam?” Gray asked.

  “She doesn’t have to die.”

  Autumn moved to stand beside him and read the poem over his shoulder. “You’re right. It never says outright that the savior must die. Just that she needs to give up something that can’t be replaced.”

  Liam swallowed. Something like the sword of destiny.

  “I know you’re there, North.” I looked up from where I was packing my bag of tricks to look at my own reflection in the mirror.

  My image in the glass wavered, like someone had dropped a rock in the pond. “How could you tell, Kotik?”

  “I have a sixth sense for perverts. Let me guess, Liam sent you?”

  “Da. He wanted to make sure you didn’t do something hasty. Like leave without werewolf back-up.”

  I stuffed my clothes deeper into the bag. “I need to get Kiesha back.”

  The mirror flattened out again then the blinds over by the window rattled. “You will. Of this I am sure.”

  “That makes one of us.” I sat on the bed and put my face in my hands. “He’s sick. Twisted. Why did I never see it?”

  “Because you were young and he was family.” For once North’s voice lost that jeering edge. “He took advantage of your body, manipulated your heart.”

  I froze. “Liam told you?”

  “No. He would not. But I have a way of finding things out.”

  The blinds rattled and then lay still. “Emma, you did nothing wrong.”

  I shook my head. “I did everything wrong. You know what’s fucked up? I didn’t realize what had happened, what he’d done to me until he had Kiesha.” The thought of him doing to her what he had done to me made me want to vomit until all my insides were on the outside.

  North didn’t say anything for a moment. He had no gaze but I could feel the sylph’s absolute focus on me.

  “You did nothing wrong,” he repeated. “And you are trying to make things better. That is more than most people do.”

  A pounding rattled my front door.

  “Three guesses who that is.” North said.

  “Any way past him?” I asked the sylph.

  “If there was, I wouldn’t tell you. Be brave, Kotik.” With that he vanished.

  I exhaled and moved to the door. Turned the handle.

  Liam stood there, holding my sword in gloved hands.

  I sagged against the frame. “I don’t want to do this, Liam.”

  “You don’t have to die.” the wolf said.

  “What are you talking about?”

  He held up a scrap of paper and thrust it at me. “The prophesy. It never says you have to die, only make a sacrifice so the fae can live. To give up something that can’t be replaced.”

  I stared from him down to the sword. “You mean I should give him that? The very thing you freaked out about me turning over to him earlier?”

  Liam licked his lips. “The fae will be safe in the PR.”

  “What about the werewolves, the humans? I could barely defeat him at the bridge when I had you acting as my spirit animal at that. If we give him the sword, he’ll be unstoppable.”

  “It’s the only way.”

  I shoved off the doorjamb. “You’re grasping at straws, werewolf.”

  “Emma,”

  “Why are you trying to make this harder on me than it already is?” Tears stung behind my eyes.

  “I’m not—”

  “You are. I need to save Kiesha, need to stop Malcolm before he gets any stronger.”

  “You will. I have faith in you. Malcolm had the sword before but he couldn’t use it. Perhaps he can’t.”

  “Maybe he only needed me to activate it,”

  Liam’s chin jutted up to a stubborn angle. “I know it’s a risk. But it’s one worth taking. Don’t you think?”

  I let out an enormous breath. “I don’t know.”

  Liam took my hand and then placed the hilt of the sword into it. His mismatched eyes burned with conviction. “I believe in the savior. And as much as it galls me to admit it, I believe in destiny. I believe in you, Emma.”

  I couldn’t hold his stare. “How can you?”

  “I’ve seen you with Kiesha. Seen you saving a stranger who couldn’t defend herself. You’ve devoted your life to stopping the Dark Fae and making a difference.” His finger curled around my chin and forced me to meet his mismatched gaze. “You don’t have to die. I believe that you will find another way. The only question is, do you?”

  19

  The tunnel traffic was light as we approached it. This time I’d been prepared and had my emotional buffers in place as we crossed out of the PR. The air was charged as though another storm was on the approach. Liam pulled the motorcycle to the side and I got off, my gaze on our destination. With one hand in Liam’s and the other gripping the sword I closed my eyes and felt for the emotional resonance.

  Malcolm’s magical fingerprint.

  Eyes still closed I turned in place until I found the trail. I pointed. “That way.”

  “You’re sure?” Liam frowned. “That leads back into Midtown.”

  I shrugged. “It’s not an exact science, werewolf. That’s the way the magical signature is the strongest.”

  What I didn’t tell him was that I felt it too, felt the pull of elemental magic being wielded. An enormous amount of it.

  Liam texted Gray and then stowed his phone. “The rest of the pack is changing now. As soon as we get to wherever it is, we’re going, they’ll close in.”

  I swallowed and nodded, hoping the wolves wouldn’t be charging to their deaths.

  After replacing the helmet, I climbed back on the motorcycle behind Liam. He did a U-turn and headed back to the heart of Manhattan.

  My feelers were out, sifting through the miasma of emotion from all over the city. Anger, fear, grief, joy. It was a hell of a mix. But no terror.

  “He’s hiding his signature somehow,” I said to Liam. “He knows I can track him and he’s got it masked.”

  “So what do we do?” Liam’s voice echoed through my helmet.

  I considered it a moment. “I have to be bait. He wants me to find him, right?”

  Liam growled. Clearly, he wasn’t a fan of that idea.

  “Drop me off outside the Italian restaurant. Ride over to Gray’s and get the pack. If he’s keeping tabs on me, he’ll reveal himself.”

  The muscles bunched in Liam’s shoulders but he nodded once. “Okay. I don’t like it but I trust you.”

  I squeezed him around the middle.

  Liam stopped at the curb in front of the property where we had first met. He didn’t cut the engine but he removed his helmet. I slid off the seat until I stood on the sidewalk and took off my own.

  A chill wind whipped down the narrow corridors between the buildings. A front was rolling through. This felt different than the earlier storms. Something that was fiercer and would bring with it the cool New Yorkers desperately craved after so many weeks of oppressive heat.

  I just hoped I’d be alive to enjoy it.

  “You have your phone?” Liam’s tone was quiet.

  I nodded once. My heart pounded and my g
uts twisted. I didn’t know what to say to him. How to fix all that was broken between us.

  Could it be fixed? Did Liam even want to fix it?

  He tipped my chin up and held my gaze. “I’m coming back for you, Emma Slade. I will always have your back.”

  Emotion strangled me. For once, I didn’t have a pithy comeback. Then again, I didn’t need to say a word.

  Show trumps tell.

  Fisting my hands in either side of his leather jacket I pulled his mouth to mine. I tasted his surprise, but to his credit, Liam recovered quickly.

  I put my everything into that kiss. He deserved it, this man who’d given me a reason to have faith in myself. I knew he had my back.

  I ended it. Not because I wanted to but because I could feel someone watching. No emotions, just a big, blank space.

  “He’s here,” I whispered into Liam’s ear.

  His green eye started to glow. “I’ll find Kiesha. Get her free. Do whatever you must to stay alive until I can reach you.”

  With one final heated look, he balanced the motorcycle and then rode off into the night.

  I watched him go, hoping I would have a chance to see him again. To tease him again.

  To kiss him again.

  The night was too still. Holding its breath before plunging into the deep. A scrabbling sound to my left made all the fine hairs on the back of my neck rise. My empathic sense picked up nothing.

  But something lurked just beyond my field of vision.

  “You might as well come out,” I called.

  They slithered from the shadows as though they were extensions of the darkness itself. Tentacles of the night.

  The twisted ones.

  It was an apt name. Without their cloaks, their bodies were mangled ruins. Lumps and bumps that bulged from their misshapen forms. Pustules of evil. Their irises were a milky white, as though siphoning magic from their own kind had faded any vibrant color they had possessed.

  I turned in a slow circle, sword still strapped to my back. “Where is she?”

  They moved closer, their gaits crooked and broken, their bodies undulating obscenely. The fae grace had morphed into something ugly within these creatures.