by Gaja J. Kos
Cian shot me a hostile stare, yet, somehow, it failed to spook me. The violence was still there, but it didn’t seem quite as lethal as before. My lack of reaction must have shown, because shades of disgust and disbelief flashed across the sharp planes of Cian’s face in rapid succession, followed by a growl that just might have been a curse.
We stood standing there for a while longer before he stretched his right hand out towards me. “The ward will recognize only me and what’s mine.”
Which meant I had to be touching him if I wanted to cross.
And here I thought my defense system was inconvenient.
I swallowed, the blush creeping back under my skin like a bloody ex with a vengeance, and a low heat started to burn deep inside me as the word mine echoed in my thoughts. My pause was long enough for the Fae to give me a questioning gaze—unfortunately only adding fuel to the fire—so I pushed all preposterous ideas and inappropriate responses aside, then curled my fingers around his.
Calloused yet soft skin brushed against mine, my breath faltering at the odd intimacy of the contact, and the next thing I knew, Cian was dragging me straight into the ward.
Chapter 6
Magic exploded all around me, hovering and sizzling with translucent tongues lapping at my skin. But they didn’t touch me. None of it touched me.
Somehow, I felt the faint trickle of Cian’s power lurking within me, an unobtrusive presence that kept me safe from the ward—and thoroughly pissed off the leashed demonic tendrils. I might have dropped some of my animosity towards the Fae after he had prevented me from stumbling upon a rune, but the darkness inside me wasn’t convinced.
Once again, nothing new.
But what most definitely was new was the ward.
It was imbued with the power to manipulate space, because what appeared to have been a thin line of energy from the outside, was actually a corridor of solid, lethal magic. I’d heard rumors of the Fae being able to twist the powers in such a way, but even in my wildest dreams I hadn’t imagined something quite like this.
In a way, it reminded me of those underwater walkways in aquariums, where there was nothing but glass separating you from the sharks and other merry creatures drifting about. Only here, the innermost layer of the ward wasn’t something designed to keep you safe.
And the sight stretching beyond its translucent sheen was far more captivating than any aquarium could offer.
The Norse Rainbow bridge came to mind, yet even that paled in comparison. It was more as if an entire galaxy of magic stretched out in all directions, with the walkway we were standing on the only tether we still had to the earth.
If this was Cian’s work—and I had no doubt that it was, even if he hadn’t vocally confirmed it—his brother must have done the same all around the premises. After all, Cian said he had only repaired parts of the wards, and if this was one of them… Well, whoever had gotten through it had some really, really mean skills.
In all honesty, I had a hard time believing even my mother and father working as one would succeed in drilling their way through magic this potent and thick. At least not setting off every one of the implemented alarms.
It was a bad idea to poke the Fae while we were having a fairly good streak, but curiosity got the better of me. “Was this one of the parts that had been breeched?”
A ripple of tension danced across Cian’s broad shoulders. He didn’t acknowledge my question in any way, merely plowed on, but he was half dragging me behind him now, almost as if he were trying to get away from my inquiry.
Shit, I had no desire for my hand to slip from his and consequently end up devoured by the breathtaking monster of a ward. But he seriously couldn’t continue keeping every damn thing a secret from me.
“Cian, stop,” I shouted, the words dripping with determination I had no idea I could muster.
He halted mid step, then slowly, stiffly, pivoted his body towards me. “We are standing in the middle of a protective barrier, and you want me to stop?”
For Chernobog’s sake, the male carried more contradictions within that fine form that even my polarized magic did. I schooled my voice, keeping it as leveled and without emotion as I could, then met his hostile but slightly amused gaze. “It’s your ward. It’s as safe as it gets. You could dispel the tunnel in an instant if you chose to. And if you do decide to let me go”—I motioned to our entwined fingers—“then there really isn’t much I can do.”
He sneered. “That’s brave talk for a demon.”
“Half demon,” I sneered right back at him. “It’s my witch side that feels your magic. The same one that gives me the ability to do the damned job you hired me for.”
With narrowed eyes, I waited for some sly remark to come flying my way, but Cian surprised me by remaining quiet. I let some of the tension that had coiled in my lower back relax.
“I’m not trying to antagonize you, Cian. Believe it or not, I’ve made my choice and I stand by it. But this whole thing doesn’t feel right. If you created this”—I ran my gaze over the captivating power of the ward—“after your brother died, it means you had to implement your part of the barrier into his. I’m guessing Riordan’s wasn’t coded to him only, but to your bloodline, allowing you access once you would get here. Am I right?”
Cian dipped his chin in agreement.
“Right. But in order to keep the rest of Riordan’s ward in tact, you had to construct the exact replica of what he had done before. It’s the only way to make a barrier whole again.”
Another nod. Another unnervingly attractive sway of his hair—something that I immediately shoved into the back of my mind.
I took a breath, aimed more at dispelling the sudden rush of heat igniting low in my belly than anything else. But at least my mind hadn’t lost its trail of thought. “So the person we’re after managed to push through a whole fucking tunnel of lethal magic.”
“I don’t see the relevance of your—”
“That’s because you aren’t me,” I cut in, admittedly a bit harsher than I wanted to. The purple of Cian’s eyes turned about three shades darker this time, but I carried on, unfazed. “The problem is that someone that possesses enough strength to live through this”—I motioned to the shimmering ward again—“can manipulate objects, change the memories they carry. If the items in the rental home have indeed been tampered with, my magic alone won’t be enough. I’m strong, but even I can’t unravel a shrouded core without some aid. Repairing physically damaged objects is nothing compared to the strain of fixing something that was intentionally broken by magic. I’ll need spells to gently heal the gaps, ingredients to coax the truth out of them. The bottom line is”—I sighed—“that this isn’t a simple job. And I came completely unprepared just because you decided not to fill me in.”
As the last word left my mouth, I realized I was furious.
I had let fear get the better of me, and it hampered my ability to do the job.
I didn’t blame myself for my initial reaction, far from it, but after it became clear Cian wanted to hire—not murder—me, I should have leaned on him harder. I was never sloppy when it came to my work, antiques and magic alike. I had known he was keeping things from me, and I let it slide because he was a bloody Fae. Yeah, I was furious.
But Cian only stared at me impassively, hard steel compared to my burning flame. “Will you still go to the house?”
My chest almost brushed against his as I took a step closer, cocked my head to the side, and gave the Fae a stare of my own. The demonic whispers cooed in delight at the backbone I suddenly developed—and so did I. It was about damn time, too.
“You can keep your secrets, but not if they affect my work. Can you deal with that?”
“I can,” he said dryly.
“Then we have an agreement.”
The ward spewed us out onto a lush meadow. Literally. If Cian hadn’t been gripping my arm as solidly as he had, I would’ve done a nice little roll over all the daisies that blossomed around my feet.<
br />
I straightened up, the warmth of Cian’s fingers disappearing that very instant. Although a part of me regretted the loss, my eyes were already scanning the shimmering magic behind me, seeking the beauty that was just as wild and unique as the Fae.
At least with the ward, my hormones weren’t going crazy—though the appreciation did run just as deep.
Although it wasn’t unheard of, wards that packed enough power to give off the kind of gluey sensation upon exit as this one did were extremely rare. As far as experts on the subject were able to discern, the stickiness was an additional measure, that one last fail-safe that thoroughly zinged through your body, making sure you weren’t an impostor. There was no spell to conjure it. Either the ability came embedded in your energy, or it didn’t. Much like glamor.
But one thing was sure. Whoever had gone after Riordan wasn’t someone I ever wanted to meet.
I couldn’t fathom how Lena did it. How she could live her life hunting down murderous bastards like that day after day, sleeping with a knife under her pillow, and punching her way out of tight situations as frequently as I brewed a cup of coffee. Okay, perhaps not quite so often as that, but still.
The one small consolation was that her targets weren’t the Fae. From what I’d seen so far, we truly were amateurs compared to the level of strength and skill they possessed. And I had a sneaking suspicion Cian was even more powerful than that. Shit, if this had been my ward and if someone had drilled a hole through it, I would be running in the other direction, not trying to track them down.
I shivered, then bit my lip. At times like this I seriously considered the notion that I was adopted—a daughter of a lesser demon and a mediocre Koldun. But before the thought had the chance to take root and make me feel worse about my aversion to danger than I already did, I let my gaze drift across the surroundings. Cian was already marching towards the building that sat in the middle of the meadow, so I hurried after him, not wanting to risk another close encounter with a rune in case any of those nasties were lying about.
The house Riordan had rented bore the typical architecture of these rural parts. Thick, durable walls, windows that weren’t too small nor too large, with wooden shutters painted a calm shade of green. There was a patio curving around one edge of the house, with a picnic table and two benches positioned next to a couple of potted plants. All in all, the sight wasn’t impressive. Just a regular home up in the hills.
I spotted a gravel driveway snaking out of the woods on the opposite end, and drove forward to fall in step with the Fae. “How come we didn’t use the road?”
To my surprise, the answer came instantly. “The ward there is still Riordan’s. I couldn’t take you through it without expanding far more power than I’m comfortable with. This was the only way in.”
“Wait,” I breathed, and wrapped my fingers around his arm.
Cian’s purple gaze dropped down to the touch, and, immediately, I recoiled. I didn’t know what madness had driven me to overstep the line, but, luckily, as unnerving as the slipup was, it at least didn’t derail my thoughts completely.
“You’re saying the tunnel we went through was the only one on the outer perimeter you had to repair?”
He nodded.
“So whatever they were searching for couldn’t have been massive, exactly,” I mused. “I didn’t spot any broken branches on our way to the ward, and with all those traps lying around, they couldn’t have taken an alternate route, right?”
Amusement danced in Cian’s eyes, brightening the purple shade into a warm lilac. There was even a hint of half smile curling up his lips.
Gods, this male was going to be the death of me. Perhaps even literally.
Liva Kasun, beloved Nightwraith, robbed of her sanity by the mind-shattering allure of a Fae.
Fucking fantastic.
As if to prove a point, Cian’s voice was a delicious mix of velvet and satin as he said, “I didn’t take you for a tracker.”
I snorted. “I’m not. But I dated a werewolf once, who was all about nature and survival and all that crap. Don’t take me wrong, I love a good hike, but spending my weekends stalking deer through the forest definitely isn’t my idea of fun.”
“At least you learned how to be observant,” Cian added before he turned around and marched on.
But despite the straight face he had flashed me, I could have sworn I saw his shoulders shaking in silent laughter as he strode towards the house.
Chapter 7
Three wards later, we were in.
I waited in the corridor while Cian temporarily defused the minor barriers inside the house so I could roam around freely. When that was done, the Fae leaned against the doorframe separating the hallway from the dining room and kitchen area. He crossed his hands, his otherworldly purple gaze meeting mine.
“Any personal effects Riordan had would be in his office.” He motioned to the door opposite him. “Whoever came back with his heart and searched the place had been in every room, but I haven’t found any traces of them aside from the broken wards.”
Which didn’t mean that I couldn’t.
Though briefly touching objects wasn’t enough to leave an imprint under normal circumstances, intense emotion and tense situations had the tendency to seep into the items like a humid winter chill. All I needed was one glimpse, and I would have the killer, give his description to Cian, and walk away, hopefully with enough time to spare to enjoy the weekend. Sounded like a plan to me.
I narrowed my eyes at the closed office door and sighed. “Might as well make yourself comfortable. This may take a while.”
Cian kept standing right where he was, so I shrugged and headed into the study.
The room was fairly small, not unusual for modernized rural houses that normally had no need for such a space; yet it wasn’t crammed as I had half expected it would be. I stepped over the threshold.
The basic, sapwood furniture spread around the room made my antique-loving heart cringe, but I reminded myself that I wasn’t here for that. And not just from a collector’s point of view.
Somehow, any object heavier than what a human could carry comfortably in their hands didn’t possess the same memory core as their lighter brethren. Regardless of how well loved or personal they were, they stored only emotions, not images, so the furniture wasn’t of any use to me right now.
I padded straight to the desk sitting by the window and allowed the murmurs to wash over me. They were sparse, indicating that there were few things here that had actually mattered to Riordan, but at least I could hear them clearly. The perp—or perps, which seemed more likely, given the skills needed to pull off a job like this—hadn’t taken the time to mess with the objects’ memories.
I tried to convince myself that they had simply been careless, but the unpleasant sensation in my gut, the same one echoed by my magic, whispered of another reason.
Stealth.
It was more than plausible the objects had been left alone because they weren’t silent witnesses.
I chewed on my lower lip.
Normally, I would be convinced there wasn’t a chance in all the realms to sneak by all the observant items, but with what I’d seen so far, I couldn’t discard even the most unlikely scenario.
Since I wouldn’t know for sure until I tried, I willed my mind to drop the speculations and focus on the murmurs instead. Those coming from a pocket watch resting on the edge of the desk were the loudest of them all, so I reached for it first, already inviting the images to form in front of my eyes.
Male laughter washed over my senses, and I actually did a double take just to make sure the vision wasn’t messing with me in some fucked-up way.
Because the laughter—the laughter belonged to Cian.
As stunned as I was, I could do nothing but drink in the visual. The Fae actually seemed…happy. The whites of his teeth, as well as the sharp incisors, were flashing, the corners of his eyes crinkled as he looked at his brother. He leaned closer, put one hand on R
iordan’s shoulder, then brought him into an embrace.
Mentally, I cocked my head to the side, observing the two males together from my position on what must have been a shelf of sorts, mounted around the height of their waists.
Riordan was far more slender in build than Cian, although there were glimpses of honed muscles bulging from beneath the embellished, dark tunic-like garment he wore. His hair was cropped short, but carried the same purple tint as Cian’s that glistened in the light filtering through the window behind them.
There was an air of something…aristocratic, surrounding the male.
Involuntarily, my gaze drifted back to the image of my Fae employer. In comparison to his brother, he appeared even more the warrior than what I’d seen so far. But what I couldn’t wrap my mind around regardless of how hard I tried was just how at ease he was, how relaxed—and utterly stunning.
Just as the treacherous heat began to burn inside me once more, overcoming even the distance the merging had put between my body and mind, the vision morphed. It flickered between several scenes that all together didn’t last more than a few seconds before, finally, it settled down on an image of Riordan in the very house my corporeal form was in. He was staring straight at the watch, giving me an up-close view of the dark circles beneath his eyes and the hard lines of his mouth. I never believed it possible for a Fae to look quite so human.
Riordan’s face was a sick, pale shade, and from the slight disturbance in my point of view, I could tell his hands were shaking. He spoke some words in an ancient language even my demonic side couldn’t interpret, then placed the watch on the table, and evanesced.
I blinked, swatting away the remnants of the apparition. As well as the creeping hunch that this just might have been the last time Riordan had set foot in this house.
As my true surroundings snapped back into place, I steadied myself with one hand pressed flat on the soft wood of the desk. I breathed slowly, my strength returning to me with each intake of air, then opened myself to the whispers once more.
