by Gaja J. Kos
A string of Gaelic curses filtered through the door, the anger they carried gaining intensity with each new syllable, until, finally, he took a sharp intake of breath and started anew. “Damn it, woman,” he growled, “the entire balance of the Fae realm depends on your help. I will not squabble with you over trivialities.”
I stood there, staring at the magic-infused white wood, Cian’s words rolling through my mind over and over again. The demonic tendrils hissed and curled past the edges of their do-not-open box, reassuring me that we couldn’t be touched while we were in here. The apartment wasn’t exactly my place of power, but it was as secure as any earth-bound dwelling could get. Even if he did break through, the process would take long enough for me to whisk away to my place of power with time to spare.
But while the darkness inside me insisted that I should let the Fae stew outside, the lighter presence echoed my worry. Not for myself. For the Fae.
I groaned and pressed my hands to my temples, trying to rub away the tension threatening to pull my skull apart. The damn things were giving me a serious headache.
“At least give me the chance to explain,” Cian said. The annoyance was still there; I could hear it in the way his accent became thicker. But there was also genuine concern. The kind only seriously, seriously fucked-up situations stirred within a person.
“All right, all right,” I breathed, ignoring the myriad of comments the light and dark magic alike were throwing my way. One of these days, they would drive me crazy, and all my hard work would reduce to rubble.
As would my mind.
Without further thought, I tugged on the handle to reveal Cian’s form that all but filled out the doorframe. The ward was still in place, so I temporarily dispelled it to let the Fae pass, although a small part of me feverishly questioned my judgment as Cian stepped inside.
The heat rolling off his powerful body was nearly unbearable. I ground my teeth, put the ward back in place, and locked the door to fend off a further intrusion. Though just what could trump the Fae standing in my home was beyond me.
Cian’s purple gaze skimmed across my face, assessing me with bone-chilling focus as I turned around, but, surprisingly, he refrained from shooting darts of disgust in my direction. I didn’t know whether to be pleased by the sudden change of heart or terrified by just what it implied of the danger the Fae realm must be facing for him to push aside his personal grievances.
“I’ll listen to you,” I said as I motioned him to take a seat, “but that’s all I promise. If I don’t like what I’m hearing, you’re on your own.”
Cian gave me a curt nod that sent his silken, dark strands dancing, then sprawled himself across the chesterfield and swiped my class of Cabernet Shiraz off the table. I watched him empty the damn thing in one breath before I realized I was still standing in the middle of the room like a stunned asshole. Suppressing a groan, I gave myself a mental slap, then strode over and took the glass from his hand.
Our fingers touched briefly at the exchange, the contact sending waves of heat to ravage my body, but, somehow, I managed to arch an eyebrow at him and asked, “I presume you want another one?”
His purple gaze glancing up at me was all the answer I got. But it was enough.
I walked over to the liquor cabinet, uncorked a bottle of the finest Slovenian Refošk, and poured us both a glass. My magic kept an eye on him as I worked, so I used the duration of the task for a much needed moment of introspection.
What was it about him that made me so…compliant?
The Fae realm was of no importance to me. If my mother were here, she would probably laugh at him and say, ‘The less of you pricks, the better.’ And yet here I was, fixing Cian a drink and hoping to the darkness of Chernobog’s soul that he wouldn’t do something to put me off.
Gods, my mind was a mess. And I couldn’t even blame my Kolduny blood for the relentless desire to aid the Fae.
Though the inclination to help was part of the Kolduny’s nature, the wielders of light magic were known for having firm boundaries. There was always a price to pay for their services—for mine, it was money—but sometimes, there wasn’t a damned thing in existence that would hold enough value to secure their cooperation. It seemed that the inherited magical abilities weren’t the only thing skewed in my case.
I shook my head at the useless thought and headed back to my “guest.” Cian took the offered wine without as much as looking at me, but he did make room on the chesterfield to accommodate my curvy frame. Gingerly, I sat down—as far away from his unnerving presence as the sofa allowed it—and waited for him to start.
The knives he still had on his thighs and arms glistened sinisterly under the artificial light that came from above, his profile a striking combination of sharp lines and deep shadows. It wasn’t just his classic, yet at the same time raw, beauty that made him so appealing. No, there was something else about him that drew me in, something that made it impossible for me to turn away, to not lose myself in the pure maleness of his image. Even the demonic whispers seemed to exchange their wrath for admiration of the power and the leashed wilderness that Cian was.
I snapped out of the trance as the Fae in question lifted the glass to the sensual curve of his mouth and drank deeply. As the wine was nearly half gone, he shifted slightly and turned the full weight of his attention on me.
“The dolmen pin was a test.”
I started to bristle, but Cian held up a hand.
“I would have prevented you from touching it if I had known you would experience such a reaction. You have my word on that. But it was imperative to determine whether the pin would attract you the way it did.”
“Why?” I asked warily.
The purple in his eyes was a brewing storm as he said, “I want you to help me find my brother’s killer, Liva. But more than that, I need you to find what they stole.”
His words sank into me, one by one. Involuntarily, I leaned forward, my hand almost brushing against his muscular thigh.
“The killer stole an object of power?”
A bitter, barking laugh spilled from Cian’s lips. “Worse. A hallow.”
Chapter 10
“A royal hallow? Your brother was killed over a royal hallow?”
Chills crawled down my spine as Cian dipped his chin in silent confirmation.
Gods above and below. He was right. This was much, much worse.
Hallows were extremely valuable, extremely rare—and extremely potent. Nenad had spoken of them at length, enthralled by the idea that such objects even existed. And I had to admit that I shared the sentiment, even when I—unlike the majority of the supernaturals—had no desire to possess one.
Every race had something they cherished—the Kolduny had their amulets, linking them to the gods that had once walked upon the earth; the demons had their magic-laced lairs or pentagrams, filled with mind-blowing raw power. But all of those things were something you could make—if you possessed the means and power for it. As far as my knowledge of the supernatural reached, the only items among us “commoners” that couldn’t be created or replicated were glamor-casting stones. Especially those that packed enough of a punch to conceal a living being from sight.
The Fae, however, not only had a fair amount of regular objects of power, but they had hallows. Or, as Nenad had once lovingly called them, the ultimate powerfucks.
As my friend’s words rolled through my mind, another realization sank in. I propped my elbow on the backrest and leaned my cheek on my hand, studying Cian’s solemn features. “You aren’t only Fae royalty, are you? You come from one of the four ancient lines?”
If Riordan had possession of the hallow, he couldn’t have been anything less than a High Lord. Not only had the rest of the world never seen the four elusive, royal relics, but the same went for the majority of the Fae. Nenad had learned as much from his brief fling with a high-born male while he was working in Ireland a couple of years ago.
I felt the weight of Cian’s purple gaze on m
e and shuddered, my head slipping from where it rested on the back of my hand. I took a long sip of Refošk. Gods, I really was in way over my head, and there wasn’t enough wine in the world to make me feel better about it.
“My family protected the Stone for millennia,” Cian said, the smooth velvet of his voice somehow taking me away from the panic that expanded in the pit of my stomach. “The Court of Water and the Court of Air had lost their power over the centuries, which left the remaining two lines with the task of maintaining the balance and keeping the Fae in line. Mine, from the Court of Earth, and that of the Court of Fire. The rivalry had always been there, long before Air and Water had waned, but my parents, unwilling to live on the very edge of war, worked hard to form a truce. And they succeeded.
“The compact had been signed in their blood, the potency of such a bond preventing anybody from breaching it. But after my parents’ death, after my brother had been crowned High Lord, the Court of Fire began acting on their desire for power once more. Their liege and his brothers had kept their intentions hidden from us for two centuries, giving a well-crafted illusion that the treaty still held.” He reached for the wine and drained it in a single breath. “But Riordan had his doubts. He came here in search of someone who could conceal the Stone yet not be tempted to use its power.”
Every muscle in my body went perfectly still. There was only one such creature that I knew of that came from our lands. “He wanted to find the Gamayun?”
Cian nodded, and I blew out a breath. The pitfall of shit I’d found myself in just seemed to be getting deeper and deeper.
Although to the human population we were all stuff of myth and legends, the ancient half-woman, half-bird creature who was rumored to possess infinite knowledge was a legend even to us. But if her existence was real, as Riordan’s search implied, she would be the single being the Fae could entrust with the hallow. Supposedly, the Gamayun had no aspiration for power or desire to be sucked into the games of this world. Her knowledge was all.
“Did he find her?” I whispered, trepidation running through my limbs.
“He came close.”
Stunned by the implication, I downed my own glass of Refošk, then placed it on the table with unsteady hands. Nestling myself deeper into the embrace of the chesterfield—and perhaps just slightly closer to Cian—I motioned him to continue.
“Riordan had wanted to keep his quest a secret, so, as opposed as I was to let him come here alone, I remained at court, masking his absence. He was to notify me if anything was amiss, contact me on a regular basis… I hadn’t believed the Fire Court would track him down, not with the precautions we took.” His hands clenched into fists, the shadow on his jaw deepening as he ground his teeth, then released a long, heavy breath. “I failed him. My sole duty was to protect Riordan. And I failed.”
The guilt, the sorrow emanating from him all but broke my heart. In that moment, Cian wasn’t a Fae warrior, but a man lost in lament. My fingers brushed his arm, gently caressing the corded muscles that lay beneath his velvet skin. “You respected his wishes, Cian.”
His gaze fell on me, hard and unyielding—as did the sudden burst of violent energy that tore itself from his core. But he didn’t move away from my touch. Slowly, I let my fingers slide down his arm and cup the side of his palm.
“What happens now?” I asked once I felt the power that had been undulating from him settle.
“I am the last of my line. With the Court of Fire now in possession of our hallow… If I were to die, by force or natural causes, the power would transfer onto their High Lord. And there would be no one left to oppose their absolute reign.”
I puffed up the spare pillow and placed it on the inflatable bed, painfully aware of Cian’s gaze on my back the entire time. My apartment wasn’t all that large, so I had to move my living room furniture around a bit, the makeshift mattress now taking up a fair chunk of the floor. It was ugly, but it would do.
“As I said before, I hardly think this is necessary.” Cian’s smooth voice reached me from behind.
He had said it before. And it hadn’t been just once. But, much like all those times, I ignored him and straightened the linen sheet, then put the folded lightweight blanket on top of it. Once I was satisfied with the job, I straightened up and finally spun around, my gray gaze locking with the purple of his.
He was standing perfectly still, leaning against the wall—precisely where I’d ordered him to wait when I’d stalked into the storage room to retrieve the inflatable bed. But as stoic as his body seemed, the air between us was sizzling with sparks of wayward energy he failed to keep contained. As much as I wanted to deny it, the sensation wasn’t entirely unpleasant.
But it was confusing as fuck.
“You wanted my help in finding the hallow, and I agreed. But not even my skills will be of any use if you get yourself killed in the meantime,” I said rather pointedly as I crossed my arms in front of my chest, mirroring his posture. “Riordan’s house is compromised, and I hardly think you’ve had enough time to set up elaborate wards anywhere else.”
His silence was all the confirmation I needed, so I plowed on. “I have barriers all around the apartment. You can amplify them, put up your own, whatever. But the fact is that you’re staying here where you’ll be safe.”
“What about your own safety, Nightwraith?” he said in a seductive, taunting whisper that made my body react in all kinds of unacceptable ways.
I breathed past my arousal, wondering for the millionth time just what the fuck was wrong with me to lust after such a dangerous being, then crunched my nose at the towering Fae. It was the wine. The wine must have gotten into both of our heads.
“You need me.” I shrugged. “And the ward on my bedroom door is stellar.”
Eager to put this day behind me—eager to escape his presence, too—I strode towards said door when his laugh caught me mid step.
The sound filled the entire room. Erotic, male, it wrapped itself around my skin and rubbed at my most intimate parts. Involuntarily, I looked at Cian and instantly regretted my decision.
His purple gaze was magnetic, taking in the gray pajama shorts and the sky-blue tank top that suddenly seemed way too tight over the swell of my breasts. But it was the curve of his mouth, touched by amusement and so, so inviting, that turned my insides into molten heat.
Gods have mercy on my soul.
“The bathroom is yours if you need it,” I chirped and all but ran into the bedroom, the haunting sound brushing against my sensitive skin and following me well past the closed door.
Chapter 11
The next day I was back at the plain, rustic rental home, listening to the objects’ murmurs. Riordan’s killer—or killers, since we still hadn’t been able to establish even that much—truly hadn’t manipulated the memory cores, but as I suspected, they had no real need to, either. With so few personal items lying around, slipping in and out of the home must have been a laughingly easy matter for someone who knew what they were doing. Even their searching the rooms had left no imprint, presumably because the murderous Fae had been in a calm state of mind by then, having already ripped out Riordan’s heart.
But still, we had to cover all our bases.
Well, mostly I had to cover the bases.
Mindful not to smear my liner and mascara, I rubbed my eyes, fighting the accumulating exhaustion. I really needed to eat something soon. A banana and a slice of bread could hardly be called adequate nutrition for the work I was doing.
I had already gone through most of the rooms which took up about an hour of my time and a whole lot of my energy—magic and corporeal alike. Though there had been twelve objects at the most that had belonged to Riordan, I had connected with all the rest as well.
Needless to say, the experience of watching people drink, party, or have sex on the premises left me more than a little grumpy.
The dolmen-shaped gold pin, however, wasn’t within the walls any longer. It was something I was extremely grateful for
, but despite its absence, there were certain unanswered questions that refused to leave my thoughts.
“You told me the pin was a test,” I said as I did a slow circle around the kitchen, trying hard to block the all-too-appealing visual of Cian drinking his morning cup of coffee. “But isn’t the hallow so much more than just an object of power? How can you be sure I’ll be able to sense it?”
“Like the pin, it’s linked to my family.”
His quick reply made me pause. But even more so, the subtext that lined the tone of his voice all but exploded in my head.
I leaned against the monstrosity that was the sapling-and-tile counter, which took up the entire western wall, and met Cian’s gaze. The Fae was standing by the doorframe in his fitted tee and black pants, hands clasped behind his back and lips pressed closely together.
Cian didn’t like my line of inquiry, not one single bit. But, due to the delicate truce we’d established yesterday, he decided to humor me instead of shutting me up.
And that was motivation enough for me to go on.
“There are other material empaths out there. But you need me. What is it that makes me so special, then?”
The annoyance I’d picked up, coupled with the way he had stressed that I was the only one who could find the hallow. It couldn’t have been a coincidence.
“You’re the only one that’s of the Earth. It brings you…closer…to the nature of my line, to the essence of my court.”
The hard edge of his voice made it seem as if each word that left his mouth was a blade, cutting viciously into his body. A ripple of anger sprang to life in my core.
Like all who came to me for help, Cian had known of my Kolduny blood. But not the rest…
“It really bothers you that I’m half demon, doesn’t it?” I might have distanced myself from the Shadow World, but that particular decision had much more to do with my mother breathing down my neck and her desire to create another power player to ally herself with than the demonic race itself. “Look, I know we aren’t exactly the epitome of goodness, but why do you hate our kind so much?”
