Forcing her feet to keep moving, she warily edged around the intimidating Dádhe to address the queen.
“Milady,” she said, dipping a knee. The abbreviated curtsy was the acceptable means of greeting one of the Nine.
“How are you feeling, Abigail? I was surprised to hear you were up to meeting with us so soon.” Lady Rose sounded sincere in her concern and not merely fishing for information.
“Better,” she answered cautiously. “I’m sure I have your healer to thank for that?”
“Yes, Regan is a wonder, but I am afraid we tied her hands and forbade a full examination to preserve your anonymity. We allowed her to cast a deep sleep spell, assuming your body could repair itself as the Ferwyn and Dádhe races do. Of course, we would have granted her further access if your life had been in danger.” The queen studied her openly. “Perhaps you require another session of healing sleep?”
“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Abby said, hoping her smile didn’t appear as strained as it felt. “But I would like to thank her before I leave the island.”
“Yes, as to that….” The queen’s gaze slid to the prince, a silent message passing between them. “I am sure a visit with Regan can be arranged.” A warm smile graced her face, but didn’t quite reach her eyes. “You are acquainted with the others in the room, but I do not believe you have been introduced to my thlán and the region’s heir, Lord Myles.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” The prince didn’t sound pleased.
“And you, Lord Myles,” she said through a painfully tight throat, noticing their evasion concerning her departure.
“I want to express my gratitude for saving our queen,” he said, gesturing to the empty chair on Lady Rose’s right.
Abby sat, and Samuel took the seat across the table. The dark frown he’d worn earlier was still firmly in place, but the focus had redirected to the newest stripes in her hair. The whitened strands were indicative of all Na’fhuil, an identifier of her race she wasn’t quite ready to reveal. She brushed the length over her far shoulder to hide it from his scrutiny.
“Now that the formalities are out of the way,” Lord Myles began. “I’d like to discuss what happened during the attack. Specifically, the use of your magic and why you were pretending to be human.”
“Of course, milord. I’ll try to clarify what I can.” And muddle what I cannot until I learn how much they already know.
“No, Miss MacCarthy, you will respond to every single question with full disclosure.” His polite facade vanished in an instant. “Human rights no longer apply to you. As a Fae Touched born into this region, I expect you to abide by our laws or suffer the consequences.”
Her hands trembled, and she clenched them together to hide the shaking.
They knew her real name. Her home state. Had they found out about Conlan?
“Myles…” Lady Rose’s tone was ripe with warning.
He ignored it. “Do you acknowledge me as your prince? And Lady Rose as your queen?” His pitiless expression broadcast loud and clear that there was only one answer he would accept.
Abby concentrated on breathing—just breathing.
In and out.
In. What am I going to do?
Out. I can’t stay here. I can’t…
Samuel reached across the table and covered her fingers with his own. His touch instantly diffused the unbearable pressure in her chest and allowed her to breathe again.
“You’re one of us now.” A muscle ticked in the commander’s clenched jaw, but his skin was warm, his voice gentle. No trace of his earlier annoyance was visible. “It’s going to be all right.”
Her chance at a peaceful life was rapidly slipping through her fingers. Nothing would ever be right again.
Abby reluctantly removed her hands from beneath Samuel’s and felt more than just the immediate loss of heat. She had to make them understand.
“Can you bring me an apple and a sharp knife, please? The visual aid will help explain…things,” she added, reading their puzzlement at her odd request.
Lord Myles assessed her for a long moment, then walked to Lady Rose’s desk. He pushed a button on a small box and talked to Zee.
“What you require will be here shortly,” he said, returning to his previous position. “But you will answer a few questions while we wait.”
“I’ll be as honest as I can be.” If the prince noticed the narrow perimeters she’d just set, he didn’t show it.
“You know you are a Na’fhuil?” he asked simply.
“Yes, but we are usually called halfbloods.”
“And besides harboring a type of magic unheard of by humans and forgotten by most of the Fae Touched population, do you know why your kind are unique to our species?”
Abby nodded. It’d been drilled into her enough. The director and her trainers at the facility reminded her almost daily that her allegiance was to humanity and not a Fae—or Sídhe—ancestor thirty-generations removed. But there was no denying Abby wasn’t human, even though her race was created very differently than the other Fae Touched.
The first Anwyll were human servants or favored lovers of a Fae Lord or Lady chosen to learn magic. They were taught bits and pieces of the Sídhe language along with the art of tattooing ancient symbols into their skin. The imbued ink amplified the spells and changed their DNA. The children of those original students, along with every generation after that, were born witches unless sired by a shifter—Ferwyn genetics taking precedence.
A transfusion of Fae blood and magic created the Dádhe. A successful Infusion turned a human into an immortal who was capable of transitioning others to the vampire race. And though not much was known about the history of the Ferwyn, the first conversion to human form took place while living in the Wilds of Faery, the magical realm initiating their metamorphosis.
“A Na’fhuil’s magic comes from our Sídhe lineage,” she finally answered.
“Yes. You are a direct descendant of a pureblood Fae,” Lord Myles said.
“I was told the chances of two carrier halfbloods like my parents meeting and having children is astronomical. The odds their kids would inherit the mutated Fae gene…one in four.”
“When did you realize you weren’t human?”
“My family was in a car accident when I was fifteen.” She paused to gather her emotions. “Just before we crashed, I panicked and it triggered my magic.”
“It was trying to protect you,” Noah said.
“My instructors at the facility thought so, too.”
“A training facility for halfbloods?” Samuel’s forehead furrowed beneath a fallen lock of hair. “Does this place have another name?”
“Yes, and no. The man who runs it doesn’t have one either, but I’ll get to that next. Anyway, in the hospital afterward…” She closed her eyes briefly, trying to shut out the horror of that day. “I told anyone who would listen how everything around me had stopped. I talked to the doctors, the police officers, the nurses, and even a psychiatrist they sent to evaluate my sanity. No one believed me.”
“Someone did,” the prince stated dryly.
“Eventually.”
“Can you alter time?” asked Lady Rose.
“No, not really.” Abby shook her head. “It’s difficult to explain.”
“Try.” Lord Myles’ command was brusque.
Abby pinched the bridge of her nose. The muscles in her body were sore, every bone ached, and her head throbbed painfully.
Samuel was by her side in an instant, bending until his face was level with hers. He cupped the side of her neck she uncovered earlier. “Abby, if you’re not feeling well, we can postpone the meeting.”
“No,” the prince said. “We can’t.”
Samuel’s fingers tightened on her nape.
“I’m okay.” Picking up on the heavy tension between the two powerful males, she rushed to diffuse it. “The sooner I explain, the sooner you’ll understand why my living as a human is best for everyone.”
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br /> The commander opened his mouth to speak but snapped it shut when Zee entered the office carrying the apple and knife on a ceramic plate. He released her but didn’t move away.
“Thank you, Zhang Min.” The prince indicated that she should set the dish near Abby. Once that was done, the secretary left, shutting the doors firmly behind her.
“Okay,” Abby said on a loud exhale. “I’m going to describe what it is my magic does. And then I’ll tell you why it…and I…will be of no real value to the region.” She picked up the green Granny Smith, cut it down the middle, and separated it into halves. “As you’ve guessed, one of the hospital’s Anwyll healers finally took me seriously. He believed I’d cast a wild spell under duress, assuming I was too young for Inscription since I didn’t have the embedded runes.” A witch received their first magical tattoos at the onset of puberty, girls at twelve, boys at thirteen. “I was relatively small for my age.”
“Still are,” Noah said, the remark earning him a fierce glower from the prince and a slap on the head from Tucker.
Abby ignored him, wanting the painful accounting over. “But when I kept insisting I was human, he decided I was merely ignorant of my Anwyll heritage as there was no other explanation for my apparent use of magic.”
Governments all over the world had experimented extensively with Anwyll tattoos and their spells. The scientists concluded it wasn’t possible for an ordinary human biologically unrelated to the original witches to wield magic. They simply didn’t have the correct DNA.
“He said he was contacting the local Colony to locate my family’s roots and discover which city’s guardian legally held my apprenticeship. I never saw Grandmaster Lake or anyone else from the ESC community.” Abby noted the hard glance Samuel shot Tucker at the mention of the region’s Anwyll leader. The Guard’s lieutenant pulled out his phone and began tapping the screen. “The next morning, I was discharged and sent up north to a place called the facility. While I was there, they determined I wasn’t a witch at all, but a Na’fhuil. As far as I know, the information was kept classified. Only a handful of people are aware my kind still exists.”
“How many magic-using halfbloods are left in the world?” Lord Myles asked.
“I have no idea. I was kept fairly isolated during training.” Truth.
“And you never met another Na’fhuil while at this…facility?”
“One.” Technically true. “But I can’t tell you his name.”
“Can’t?” the prince challenged. “Or won’t?”
Both.
“No one used their real names.” Abby met the male vampire’s eyes without flinching. “The director of the facility insisted on false monikers to help maintain secrecy. That way, if we fell into the wrong hands, we couldn’t be forced to reveal anyone’s identity.”
“What were you called?” Samuel asked, halting whatever sardonic comment the prince was about to make. The warm amber reflected in the commander’s eyes seemed to reach out and physically touch her, assuring her she was safe. Protected.
“Sprite,” she said on a shallow breath.
Noah snorted. “You know in Faery, a sprite is essentially an overgrown bug, right?”
“And where is the facility, Abigail?” Lady Rose shot the wisecracking shifter a sidelong glare. Noah pressed his lips together and slid down in his seat.
“In Michigan…somewhere.” Truth.
“Commander Walker, contact the Guard’s commander in the East North Central and find out if they have been withholding information from us about this…facility. If any of the Nine have.” The Dádhe curled his lip, and Abby saw the tips of his fangs. “I will deal with the region’s Ferwyn king myself.”
He waited for Samuel to acknowledge the order and then said, “Please continue, Miss MacCarthy.”
“The director and our handlers kept everything they considered on a need-to-know basis, and I didn’t need to know,” Abby told him.
“When traveling on assignment, I was transported to a private airfield in a vehicle with blacked-out windows and an armed escort. But the facility’s location isn’t important. What I need you to understand is that I’m not a normal halfblood.”
“How are you different?” Samuel watched her face intently, effortlessly sustaining his crouched position. His tanned forearms rested on spread legs, his wrists draped loosely over his muscular thighs, hand hanging casually near her knee. His fingertips brushed the material of her slacks, and the whisper-thin caress was remarkably comforting.
“Halfbloods are almost exclusively Jumpers. It’s their magic those aware of our kind refer to as Na’fhuil.” She returned to the cut apple, realigning the fleshy insides. “I’m not a Jumper.”
“Explain.” The prince moved to Abby’s end of the table, planting himself between her and the queen.
“Say this piece of fruit is Earth. Its core is Faery. The space between the halves is a roadway. In the millennia since the Fae left our realm, we thought the pathway separating the two dimensions was permanently closed. And it is locked to almost everyone.”
“Except the Na’fhuil.” Tucker guessed.
“Having the combination of human and Fae blood allows us to access this Rip between our two worlds.” She transferred the reunited sections to one hand and picked up the knife. “So, Jumpers do exactly what their title implies…they jump over the void.” Using the point of the blade to indicate a space close to the circular cut, she swung the tip up and over the slice mark, ending on the opposite half of the apple. “They can also bounce off its outer boundaries. Repelling along the Rip’s edges.” Moving the knife in a tiny horizontal arc, she stayed on the same side of the cut, landing only a centimeter farther down the jagged line. “And since the pathway isn’t technically in our world, the halfblood seems to disappear. They are in one place one moment and elsewhere the next.”
“And why we have always believed the Na’fhuil could control time.” The prince looked thoughtful. “Can halfbloods take someone with them when they Jump?”
Abby squeezed the knife until her fingers ached. If she wanted them to understand her unique dilemma—why she wouldn’t be an asset to the region—she had to tell them at least part of the truth.
Na’fhuils were already coveted for their magic. If the wrong people knew a Jumper’s greatest secret, the one Abby would lie through her teeth to protect, they might destroy them out of fear.
“Miss MacCarthy, answer the question.” The Dádhe leaned forward, crowding her.
Samuel shifted closer, curling his hand on her knee until she felt the press of his knuckles. The scent of clean forest air filled her senses, steadying her.
“The Na’fhuil make elite bodyguards.” Or assassins.
Noah whistled. “So…yes?”
Abby remained silent; she’d said enough.
“What kind of halfblood are you if not a Jumper?” The queen spoke softly, as though afraid Abby might bolt if startled.
Setting the knife’s tip to the apple’s meshed seams, she let the point dip shallowly between the halves. “I’m a Walker.”
Samuel’s fingers twitched on her leg, and Abby halted her explanation with the small blade poised in the center of the fruit. A rueful smile briefly touched the commander’s lips before he nudged her thigh, encouraging her to continue.
Unsettled by Samuel’s reaction, she ducked her chin and said quietly, “I go inside the Rip, sinking in instead of rebounding off its borders.” She swallowed, fighting the surge of nausea welling inside her just thinking about Walking. “The world blurs in the Faery pathway, allowing me to make small changes that affect our reality here. Minutes in the void take less than a second on Earth.”
“And to your knowledge, you are the only Na’fhuil who can Walk between the realms?” Lady Rose seemed to roll the possibilities around in her head.
“Yes, milady.”
“And why do you believe this makes you less valuable? Even if you are not a Jumper, your ability is still powerful.”
&n
bsp; “Because for one thing, I can’t stay inside long and for another…” Abby moved her legs to the side, purposely breaking the tenuous connection she had with Samuel. “I’m a coward.”
“Why would you say such a thing?” she asked, breaking the heavy silence following Abby’s confession. “You saved my life, and if I am correct, it caused you a great deal of discomfort to do so.”
“That’s the problem, my queen.” She wouldn’t dispute Lady Rose was indeed her ruler. What would be the point? “For some unknown reason, my magic works differently than the other halfbloods. Than the other magical races. It hurts to Walk.” Understatement of the century.
“All magic is painful to some degree,” Lord Myles said dismissively.
“You don’t understand. The pain is…debilitating.”
She avoided the weight of the commander’s gaze. Would he see her reluctance the same way she did—as a weakness? And why did she care? Abby’s goal was for them to believe in the very real limitations of her magic and forget she existed. It didn’t matter what they thought of her. She hoped to never see any of them again after her revelation. Her gaze darted to Samuel.
Lie.
“My mind anticipates what’s coming, and I hesitate. It’s why I went into hiding. I didn’t want to be responsible for someone’s death because I was too slow to respond.” Again. “I almost waited too long to intervene last night.”
“When it comes to the queen, you will not falter,” Lord Myles ordered.
Abby hopped up and swayed. Samuel was there in an instant, supporting her with a hand on her waist. “I’ve tried,” she whispered, wishing it was as easy as the prince was making it out to be. “I trained for years with the facility. Used every method my instructors dreamed up to get me beyond this…psychological block. It didn’t work.”
Frustrated, she raked her fingers through her hair. She couldn’t do this again!
“The director was never going to let me go, so I ran. My gift is largely useless. I can’t even stay conscious after a Walk.” She set the abused apple and knife on the plate with deliberate care. “But perversely, my freedom threatens my kind. If I stay on the island, my heritage will eventually be exposed. The Na’fhuil will be hunted again and forced into service against their will.” She had no doubt the facility would come after her no matter who claimed her loyalty. They’d almost caught her in Boston, and only luck saved her from being recaptured within a week of escaping. “I can’t stop a bullet if I don’t pull on my magic soon enough, and I can’t prevent a knife from being plunged into someone’s heart if I’m too afraid to use my birthright.”
Fae Touched (Fae Touched Book 1): Paranormal Romance Page 5
