Deceptions

by Kelley Armstrong

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  And so Matilda made her choice," the girl said. "And Gwynn broke his promise. He'd only agreed to it because he was certain he was no competition for the charming prince of the Cwn Annwn. The moment Matilda showed him otherwise, he forgot the pact. He courted her in secret and made her swear not to tell Arawn. The Cwn Annwn prince was busy with fractious matters of state, he said. They ought not to disturb or distract him. The truth was that Gwynn was convinced she also loved Arawn, that he'd only won her because Arawn had played by the rules."

  "Which wasn't true," I said. "She chose Gwynn. She loved Arawn as a friend."

  "Gwynn never could--never would--believe it. He kept their engagement a secret until two nights before the wedding."

  The sun went out, pitching the field into darkness. I heard voices, angry voices, speaking Welsh. Arawn and Gwynn, the venom in their words growing stronger with each exchange.

  The girl said, "They were young--Arawn hot-tempered and impulsive, Gwynn intense and unbending. That night, both said things they didn't mean. Eventually, they came to an agreement. A terrible agreement. One they didn't--again--share with Matilda. She would get one last chance to choose. On the eve of her wedding, if she stayed with Gwynn, then she was his and the land of the Cwn Annwn was closed to her forever."

  "And if she went to Arawn, she was his and the land of the Tylwyth Teg would close."

  As soon as I said it, the dark field erupted in flame, and I quickly turned away, wrapping my arms around myself and trying not to remember what it felt like to be immersed by that flame, plunging into it, trying to return to Gwynn. I could hear Arawn shouting, so loud his voice cracked.

  "He couldn't save her," the little girl said. "Neither of them could, each on his side. In trying to return to Gwynn, Matilda plunged into the fiery abyss and was lost. They never forgave themselves . . . or each other. Those flames of rage and guilt burned through every tie between the Tylwyth Teg and the Cwn Annwn. Late in life, the two kings came to fully understand the damage they'd done to their peoples, and they reconciled. While they managed to bring an uneasy peace to their lands, it was not the same. It would never be the same."

  "And now they're enemies again? The two sides?"

  She pursed her lips. "Not enemies. They have been known to help one another, but it is not so much kindness as survival. There are other groups of fae. Some are allies, others are not. The Tylwyth Teg and the Cwn Annwn will help one another to stand against them, but their ultimate goal is freedom from that obligation--to stand strong enough that they do not require the other's help."

  "And I play a role in that because I'm the new Mallt-y-Nos. The new Matilda. Or something like that."

  She smiled. "Yes, something like that. The cycle repeats. New Matildas are born. Not often. Not at all often. She must share the blood of the original, and she must be, like the original, of both sides."

  "Half . . . ? If Pamela is Tylwyth Teg, then Todd is . . . ?"

  "Cwn Annwn. That is, they have the blood. Strong blood, mingled many times, from many sources, one path linking back to the family of the original Matilda."

  "Okay, so a new Matilda is born, and she meets the new Gwynn, presumably from the same bloodline as the original . . ."

  "She may not meet him. I never did."

  "But the goal is for her to meet the new Gwynn?"

  "Or the new Arawn, preferably one or the other, the choice dependent on the side."

  I shook my head. "Okay, you lost me."

  "For the Tylwyth Teg, the goal is for a new Matilda to meet her Gwynn, but not her Arawn, because that restarts the original scenario. Likewise for the Cwn Annwn."

  "So she meets one and . . . There are babies involved here, aren't there?"

  She laughed. "Only if you want them, which I think you do not. No, the only requirement is the bond. Of course, the stronger the bond, the more likely they can woo the girl to their side, so they would not object to babies."

  "Well, they aren't getting them. If Gabriel is the new Gwynn, and we're friends, that's it, then, right? The bond is there. My mission accomplished."

  "There's more to it than that--the fate that awaits the Tylwyth Teg if you don't actually choose them."

  She settled onto the ground as the sun rose again. I sat in front of her.

  "Fate?"

  "Extinction."

  "You mean . . . wiped out?"

  "For this settlement, yes. It happens. Nothing lasts forever. There are other Tylwyth Teg and Cwn Annwn, other groups. Fewer and fewer. Our time is past, yet we are stubborn. But what keeps fae alive is limited, and it dwindles as the world is consumed by what passes for progress."

  "And what keeps fae alive? Wait. Ley lines, correct? Cainsville is built on a ley line."

  She laughed, the sound tinkling. "Ley lines are a human invention. What sustains us are three of the four elements. Air, water, earth. The other--fire--kills. But the first three keep us alive, so long as they are pure and untainted. Tell me, what is a ley line?"

  "A geographical alignment. Streams combining with mountain ridges and such."

  "In broader terms, then, it is a mixing of elements, such as water and rock. Humans had an inkling of the truth there, though they overcomplicated the matter. For fae, the ideal habitat is one that combines as many elements of nature as possible. Rock, rich earth, water, forest, meadow . . ."

  "Like Cainsville," I said. "Bounded on one side by river, another by marsh, the third by rocky ground. Surrounded by field and forest. The Cwn Annwn use that forest, other forests, too. They're more nomadic. Less bound to territory. Still, both govern land valuable to other fae. And as remaining woodlands are developed, Cainsville becomes more valuable, and threats emerge."

  "They do. Even as we speak. Those others grow bolder, knowing you're here. Yet even here, the land dies. It cannot avoid contamination--air, earth, and water. You can cleanse and renew it, and give them the power to resist those threats."

  "Hopefully not with my blood, scattered over the land."

  "Nothing so drastic. You cleanse the land of Cainsville by living on it. You would cleanse the lands of the Cwn Annwn by riding with them."

  "How about the Persephone solution? Not that I'm volunteering . . ."

  "Neither will accept that, because it dilutes your power and they both want it all. They will insist you choose."

  "Framing Gabriel for James's murder is part of this, isn't it?"

  "Presumably, yes, but do not ask me to name the murderer or the motive. I know only what you do."

  "I'm guessing it was the Cwn Annwn. Moving the Tylwyth Teg's champion off the field to make room for their own. To ensure I meet Arawn--his representative, right?"

  A giggle rocked her whole body. "That is a silly question, and you know it. The cycle is already repeating, and the longer you pretend you don't know who Arawn is . . ."

  "Ricky." I forced his name out on a sudden exhalation of breath, as if I might not let it escape otherwise. "It's Ricky, isn't it? The Hunt. That's why he hears it. Why he's drawn to it. He's . . ."

  "Cwn Annwn. Motorcycles instead of steeds. The joy of the ride, of the hunt. You feel it, too."

  Fast cars. Fast bikes. The way I craved speed, that unbelievable adrenaline rush.

  I always had.

  "He doesn't know," I said. "He can't know. And his father . . . his father isn't a Huntsman. Is it his mother? Is that possible? No." The answer came quickly. "It's Don Gallagher's father. He was never in the picture, and that's why. Don is the son of a Huntsman. Ricky is a grandson."

  I took shallow breaths, struggling to orient myself. The girl stayed silent, watching me with a look between sympathy and pity.

  I'd known. Somehow, deep inside, I'd known.

  Known and feared.

  I don't want this. I don't want him touched by this. It's not fair.

  Not fair to him, to be sure. But also, if I admitted it, not fair to me. Ricky was my one good and pure thing right now. Even telling
him about Cainsville and the omens had been difficult, as if it tainted what we had with the madness that was my life these days.

  Matilda. Gwynn. Arawn. The cycle repeating.

  "Is it fated, then?" I asked. "Us?"

  "You mean does Ricky love you because he has to? No. It's not fated that you'll meet. It's not fated that you'll feel the same. You aren't truly Matilda. They aren't truly Arawn and Gwynn. The cycle isn't set. It shifts and it changes. You could choose Arawn this time. You could choose Gwynn again. You could choose . . . and they might not reciprocate. Nothing is decided."

  "And which is the best solution?"

  She lifted her thin shoulders. "Who knows? It's never happened. Now, you need to go."

  "I have more--"

  "You aren't worried about him anymore?" I followed her gaze. The meadow faded into the Cainsville park. I saw myself on the bench, sweat pouring down my face, soaking my shirt as I stared glassy-eyed. Gabriel crouched in front of me, his hands on my shoulders.

  When I squeezed my eyes shut, I could hear his voice, feel his touch.

  "Olivia. Damn it, Olivia."

  My eyes snapped open.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Gabriel was right there, his face taut. He moved away, releasing me fast.

  "I couldn't get you back," he said, as if in explanation.

  "I know. I was just sitting here and . . ." I inhaled. "It's over now. I got the whole story."

  "I couldn't get you back," he said again, and there was a different note in his voice now, almost angry. "You would not come back. Your temperature kept rising, and you were gone."

  "I'm sorry," I said. "I--"

  "I'm not accusing you of anything, Olivia," he said as he stood, snapping his shades back on. "I'm telling you that I could not bring you back. It keeps getting worse, and I don't know . . . I couldn't get to you--" He bit off the sentence, and I remembered the fire, the terrible fire between the worlds, Arawn shouting, Gwynn shouting, trapped on their opposite sides, Matilda lost in the middle, screaming, as she burned.

  They couldn't save her. Couldn't get to her.

  Gwynn . . .

  I closed my eyes. Gabriel wasn't Gwynn. Thrust into the role, but not the same person, not bound to the same fate, not feeling the same emotions, the same bonds. I had to remember that. Otherwise . . . well, otherwise, I thought I'd go mad, trying to reconcile it, Matilda and Gwynn, me and Gabriel.

  "I think it's over now," I said. "I've seen it all."

  "And you'll tell me."

  I hesitated.

  "Olivia."

  "Of course." As much as I can, as much as I dare. "Not here, though. We should go someplace. Maybe . . . Shit! Ricky." I checked my watch.

  "I heard his bike a few minutes ago."

  "He'll be wondering where I went. Did you text him?"

  A cool look. "At the time, I was a little more concerned with snapping you out of a trance state before fever short-circuited your brain."

  I texted, telling Ricky I was out for a walk with Gabriel and heading back now. Then I rose, my knees shaky as I started for the gate.

  "We aren't discussing it, then?" he said.

  "Not while Ricky's waiting with pizza."

  "I should think this is more important than pizza."

  Now I was the one giving him a look. "It is, but he just rode twenty miles to get it for me, and you want me to say I'm too busy to eat it? Or that I'm busy talking to you about things that I can't tell him . . . when he thinks I've told him everything? Unless you want me to tell him everything."

  "Fine. But I expect to speak to you tonight about this."

  I nodded and headed out the gate. We'd just reached the walkway beside my building when I heard Ricky's voice along with another I recognized.

  "Patrick," Gabriel murmured.

  Patrick was, technically I guess, one of the Cainsville elders, though the form he took didn't look much older than me. That was even more disconcerting, given that he was Gabriel's father. Not that Gabriel knew that. Rose did, and we'd agreed that was one secret we were keeping for now.

  Patrick was a bocan. A hobgoblin, which didn't mean some kind of troll-like creature. The best-known example of a hobgoblin is Puck from A Midsummer Night's Dream, which about sums up Patrick.

  I hurried down the lane. Ricky kept glancing over Patrick's shoulder, clearly eager to be gone but not wanting to be rude.

  When he caught sight of me, he grinned, pleasure mixed with relief.

  "Hello, Liv. Gabriel," Patrick said. "We were discussing motorcycles. I might buy one. They look like fun."

  "Isn't there some kind of rule against that?" I said. "Crossing into enemy territory?"

  There was, for one split second, the most wonderful look of surprise on Patrick's face before he covered it with a breezy grin.

  I turned to Ricky. "Gabriel's joining us for pizza."

  "Actually," Gabriel began, "Olivia and I need--"

  "Can you take it over to Rose's?" I asked Ricky. "I'll meet you both there. I'd like to speak to Patrick."

  I waited until they were gone, and then I said to Patrick, "Leave him alone."

  "Which him? You have so many."

  "One fewer now."

  His lips pursed. "I wasn't going to say that. It seemed rude."

  "I'm making a point. James's death had something to do with this Mallt-y-Nos nonsense."

  "Nonsense?"

  "Oh, I know, it's life or death to you. But to me? It's a whole other kind of life or death. The kind that is getting people I care about killed. And other people I care about charged with murder."

  "That is unfortunate."

  "Unfortunate?" I choked with sudden rage. "He's your son. I know that doesn't mean fuck-all to you, but could you at least have the decency to acknowledge he's in trouble?"

  Patrick had abandoned Gabriel. No, not abandoned him, because he'd always been in Cainsville, like an old family friend--and that somehow made it worse, made it colder. He'd seen the hell that had been Gabriel's young life, and he'd stood back and watched, then dared to claim it was for Gabriel's own good. Tempering steel, he'd said.

  "Take a deep breath," Patrick said.

  My fists clenched.

  "You can hit me if it'll make you feel better. I promise not to hold it against you. It won't do any lasting damage."

  "Then why would I bother?"

  The son of a bitch smiled.

  I forced myself to continue. "I would appreciate it if you could see fit to at least acknowledge what is happening with Gabriel the next time you see him. At least say you're sure it will all be fine."

  "But he will be fine. He obviously didn't kill the man, and he's an excellent lawyer. He'll fix this."

  "And if not, well, hey, what better way to toughen him up than twelve years in maximum security?"

  "I'll acknowledge the situation and express my certainty that it will resolve itself."

  "On second thought, don't bother. You'll only screw up that, too."

  He met my gaze with a cool look, one of the few times I could see a resemblance to his son. "I might suggest you moderate your tone with me, Olivia."

  "You don't like it, bocan? Then curdle the cream and get me fired. Oh, wait, no . . . I have another job." I headed for Rose's. "And stay away from Ricky."

  "I was simply talking to him," he called after me. "I have no issue with him being here. In fact, I find it an intriguing set of circumstances."

  "No, you find it an amusing set of circumstances. You love seeing the elders squirm, and what's better than this? They've pinned all their hopes on me, certain I'll hook up with their golden boy and save them from extinction, and instead, the competition is sharing my bed, in their own town, and there's not a damn thing they can do about it."

  His lips quirked. "It is rather amusing."

  "For you. Not so much for me. Or Gabriel. Or James. Or any of us caught up in this mess. I'd think you'd be less amused, given the ending if I ride off with Ricky. I hear it would be y
our ending, too."

  "Hardly. They'll go down with the ship. I'll bail. I've done it before."

  "Like a rat."

  "An apt comparison."

  "Then none of this concerns you, so unless you can help, stay the hell away from Ricky. From both of them, in fact. And speaking of helping, if you know anything that can assist Gabriel's defense--anything at all--you'd better--"

  "I would let you know. You don't need to threaten me. In fact, I daresay you'd better not."

  "And again, I don't give a flying fuck."

  "You're angry with the elders, but you're furious with me. They lie to you. They deceive you. They'll use you if they can. But my crime is greater because you believe I've wronged him."

  I followed his gaze to see Gabriel at the end of the passageway, standing back on the sidewalk, out of earshot, but waiting and watching.

  "Can I leave now? I have pizza waiting."

  He smiled. "Pizza. That's very important. You can leave anytime you want. But you aren't foolish enough to turn your back on me. Remember this, bychan. I'm no threat to you. Or to him. I can be an ally, if you can put aside your anger long enough to ask for help. If not for your sake, then for . . ."

  He nodded toward Gabriel, and fresh rage whipped through me.

  "Yes, I'm exploiting your weakness," he said. "I'm not above that. In fact, as you might imagine, I'm extremely pleased by it. Gabriel doesn't need my help or my support. He has more than enough of yours."

  I glared at him.

  "You think I mock you," he said. "I don't. You might not be sleeping with my son, but sex is only sex. If a choice were to be made, I have no doubt who it would be. It's the Cwn Annwn who should be worried."

  "No, it's both sides that should be worried, because I'm not playing your little game."

  "I'm afraid you don't have that option, bychan."

  "Oh, I think I do."

  I turned and strode back to Gabriel.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  Ricky and I were back from Rose's, lying in bed after sex. TC was perched on the foot of it, staring at us. Ricky was on his back, eyes half closed, arm around me as I traced the Celtic crown tattoo on his upper arm.

  "That one is for my dad," he said. "Since you'll never ask me to explain. The triskele is for my nana and the asklepian for my mom. Obviously, the patch is for the Saints." His gaze shifted to my hip, his fingers tracing the dip of my waist. "I want to get one for us, like we discussed. But I don't want to without . . ." He frowned. "Your permission? Does that sound right? Sure, it's my body, but if you get a tattoo because of a girl and she doesn't want you to, then it's kind of awkward. And a little creepy."