Deceptions

by Kelley Armstrong

  Tristan raised a hand. "I come in peace."

  "Bullshit." I sidestepped around Gabriel. "The last time we had contact with you, it was through your flunky, Macy Shaw, when she tried to kill us."

  "In opposition to my explicit directions. I made it very clear you weren't to be harmed. Either of you. That's the problem dealing with humans. Petty grievances and jealousies flare, and they ignore orders. Logic, too, as it seems. If one has to deal with them, one is better choosing siol. They're usually able to rise above that."

  "Siol?" I tried to move closer, but Gabriel gripped my arm, and he was right. Maintain distance.

  "Descendants," Tristan said. "For us, it means those descended from our kind. Disgynyddion in Welsh, but that's a mouthful. In my language, it's diyskynnyas, which is just as bad, so we'll stick to Gaelic. I'm not Gaelic. Or Welsh. But you are. Both of you. Part Tylwyth Teg, part human, part . . . other things. Cwn Annwn among them for you, Eden. That's the thing about siol. They're terribly attractive to fae, at least as breeding stock. Keep hitting the same lineage over and over, and eventually you get quite an interesting mix."

  I glanced at Gabriel. "So that's where we get it from. The hyperverbal gene. Fae do love to talk."

  "True . . ." Tristan said. "But in this case, I believe you're the one who wanted to talk to me. You left an invitation." He held out a scrap of notepaper. On it I could see my phone number . . . in my own handwriting.

  "You're Jon Childs," I said.

  "Among others. But you've invited me to talk, so I'm taking you up on the offer, though this might be a somewhat one-sided conversation. It appears you have a problem I may have caused."

  "Besides the fact that your psycho assistant tried to murder us?"

  "Yes, besides that."

  Gabriel's hand moved to my shoulder. "We have nothing to say to you, whatever you are."

  "Spriggan," Tristan said. "I'll give that information freely as a token of my goodwill. As for what a spriggan is--"

  "You murdered Ciara Conway," I said.

  "Mmm, no. Macy did, attempting to restrain her. I will admit, however, that I did utilize her corpse in ways you might have found disturbing."

  "You left her head in my bed."

  "Her spirit had long fled. I was simply using the shell to encourage you to discover your own heritage. I was being helpful. If you look at it in the right light."

  I couldn't even respond to that.

  "Why did Edgar Chandler ask me to kill you?" Gabriel said.

  "That's . . . complicated."

  "You have one minute to find an uncomplicated answer. If you do so, you will earn five minutes of our time."

  "You're very cute," Tristan said. "Both of you. You act as if you have a say in the matter. As if you could, indeed, just push me out of the way and go about your evening."

  "Is that an invitation to try?" Gabriel said.

  "Not particularly. I lack your fondness for confrontations."

  "Chandler," I said. "He wanted us to kill you."

  "No, I don't think he did. He wanted you to find me. I'd gone to him once before, when he was working on his brainwashing techniques with the merry Huntsman. I'd made him an offer. He refused. I believe he was reconsidering, namely because he realized he was in deep trouble. He sent you after me. He thought I would use my abilities to overpower you and learn who sent you, and then I'd go and speak to him. He was overcomplicating things, as usual. I wouldn't have bothered with him. He was damaged goods by that point. There's your answer, so I'll take my five minutes." He gave us no time to object. "I'm the one who started the business with James Morgan. Making him think Eden was in danger from you, Mr. Walsh."

  "What?" I said.

  "I had a plan," he said, with a combination of nonchalance and smugness that left me staring.

  They aren't human. You need to remember that. Don't expect them to think, to act like humans.

  Tristan continued, "I want peace, Eden, and you could start a war that will make this entire corner of the world a very uncomfortable place for those like me. So I'm going to help you make the right choices. If you don't . . ." He shrugged. "I'll have to kill you. Which would be regrettable."

  "All right," Gabriel said. "We've heard enough--"

  "I still have four minutes. The point is that I ruffled Mr. Morgan's feathers for the same reason I toyed with Ciara Conway's unfortunate shell. All part of my plan. Mr. Morgan was a pest. Pests need to be eradicated."

  I lunged forward. "You killed--?"

  His hands shot up. "An unfortunate choice of words. Please allow me to finish. He was a nuisance because he was distracting you from discovering your identity and your role. I expected Mr. Walsh would stomp him, and in the process the bond between you and Mr. Walsh would strengthen. That bond is important, as I'm sure you know by now."

  I glanced uneasily at Gabriel, but he only watched Tristan with the same wary look he'd had since we'd been waylaid.

  I answered quickly. "So you made James think Gabriel was a danger to me. You compelled him--"

  "Which was only possible because he was quite willing to be persuaded," Tristan cut in, as if that made a difference.

  "You got Gabriel arrested for assault and trespassing--"

  "That I didn't expect. Morgan was more committed to you than I anticipated. The situation escalated."

  "No shit it escalated." I stepped toward him. "You escalated it. You sent cult deprogrammers after me, in James's name."

  "No, I presume Morgan was behind that. And now our Mr. Walsh has been falsely charged with his murder."

  "Do you know who did it?"

  "Well, no. Not yet. I believe if we pool our resources--"

  I laughed.

  "I realize you haven't seen me as an ally," Tristan said. "Though I'd argue I am. In fact, I'm the only one who doesn't seek the destruction of either side. I want peace."

  "Is that an option?" I said. "Because according to everything I've heard, I have three choices: I choose to align myself with one side and let the other die out. Or I choose neither and both die. I'm not hearing an alternative."

  "I haven't exactly worked out the logistics--"

  I groaned and turned to Gabriel. "Can we go now?"

  "The Cwn Annwn," Tristan said. "They're the most likely suspects. They want to get rid of Gwynn so Arawn controls the playing field."

  "We need to go," I said, reaching for Gabriel's arm. He lifted it out of my reach without even looking over.

  "Gwynn?" Gabriel said. "Arawn?"

  "You do know who they are, I presume?" Tristan said.

  "Of course," I broke in. "Matilda, Gwynn, Arawn. The myth or history or whatever it is. Gabriel, can we--?"

  "In a moment. This could be important." He turned to Tristan. "Explain what you mean--"

  "Gabriel, please." I gripped his elbow.

  He seemed to catch the growing desperation in my voice. He nodded. "All right." Then, to Tristan, "We'll speak--"

  "Investigate the Cwn Annwn. I haven't been able to prove they're behind Morgan's murder, but it's the solution that makes sense. If you're arrested, that removes Gwynn from the equation, and leaves the biker boy, Arawn."

  "Gabriel," I said loudly, trying to distract him from Tristan's last sentence, but it did no good. Gabriel stared at him so intently he could have read his lips.

  "Biker boy?" he said.

  "Richard Gallagher."

  "You're saying Ricky is Arawn? And I'm . . ."

  "Gwynn, of course. Gwynn ap Nudd. King of the Tylwyth Teg."

  Gabriel pivoted on his heel, so slowly I swear it took ten seconds before he was facing me, and still it wasn't enough time to plaster on a look of confusion.

  "Olivia," he said. "You knew . . . ?"

  "We aren't them," I blurted. "Not reincarnations. It's a role. You have Tylwyth Teg blood and Ricky has Cwn Annwn, and I have both, and we know one another, so we've been thrust into these roles--"

  "Not exactly," Tristan said. "True, it isn't reincarnation,
but it's not happenstance. There couldn't be another Gwynn to your Matilda. It's all preordained. He is the Gwynn--"

  "Enough." Gabriel's voice was so low we both turned, as if uncertain we'd heard it. "That's enough," he said, articulating each syllable. "We are going to leave now. If you wish to speak to us, you know where we are."

  Tristan thrust business cards at both of us. "Or you can call me. Anytime. I really do think we can solve--"

  Gabriel had already walked away, leaving the card in Tristan's outstretched hand. Tristan tucked mine into my pocket.

  "It's not the Cwn Annwn," I said to Tristan. "Unless James has murdered someone with fae blood, they can't kill him."

  "That's the general idea, but I'm not convinced it's a rule."

  "It is," I said.

  "That makes it more complicated," he said, sighing. "Why don't we--?"

  Now I was the one walking away--jogging, actually--to catch up with Gabriel.

  "I can help you," Tristan called after us.

  "That's what everybody says," I muttered, and raced after Gabriel.

  --

  I've had quiet drives with Gabriel. Sometimes it's a comfortable, worn-in kind of silence, both of us relaxed and burrowed deep in our thoughts. Sometimes it's like being stuck in an empty chamber, painfully and uncomfortably aware of the lack of communication. That night, the silence was a living thing, a rat gnawing at me as I sat bound to my chair, unable to throw the beast off and escape. Gabriel's silence forbade discussion and told me that if I opened my mouth, said a single word, it would only make the situation worse.

  We were nearly at the city before he spoke.

  "It isn't true," he said. "I'm not Gwynn."

  "I know. It's just a role--"

  "No, Olivia. I'm sorry. You seem to believe this, but it isn't true. In fact, I'm beginning to suspect none of it is true. I understand that you've been in a difficult place, your world turned upside down, and it's easy to get confused--"

  "Are you suggesting I'm imagining the visions?"

  "Not entirely. I think you've been in a susceptible state, and these creatures--fae, what have you--are taking advantage of that."

  I struggled for words, for breath. "Don't do this, Gabriel."

  "If you're being manipulated--"

  "The only one manipulating me here is you."

  His hands gripped the wheel. "That's not fair and--"

  "In everything that's happened, who's been the believer? The one who won't let me be skeptical, won't let me make up excuses, forces me to face the truth, however harsh--"

  "Exactly. However harsh. That's what I'm doing now. This isn't true, Olivia. You know it isn't. You dream of some fairy prince and say I'm him?" A brusque laugh. "I didn't expect you to fall for romantic nonsense like that--"

  "You aren't my fairy prince, Gabriel," I said, barely forcing the words through gritted teeth. "Not by any stretch of the imagination. You aren't him, and I'm not her. In the original, Matilda chose Gwynn. I chose Ricky. Arawn. That alone should prove--"

  "--should prove it's nonsense. All of it. You didn't choose Ricky over me, Olivia. I wasn't an option. I hope you realize that. If you didn't, and I somehow conveyed the impression--"

  "You conveyed no such impression." I managed to get the words out, my chest frozen, my gut on fire, brain numb. "That is exactly what I meant. Gwynn and Matilda were lovers. Arawn and Matilda were only friends. That's how things have changed. I'm with Ricky. You and I are friends."

  He snorted. And of everything he'd said, that was the flaming arrow that cut deepest, scorched hottest. The snort that said we weren't friends. Not even that.

  The Jag slowed at the first stoplight we'd hit. As soon as the tires stopped rolling, I opened the door.

  "I can get myself back from here," I said, and climbed out.

  Did I pause a second, giving him a chance to protest? Yes. He said nothing. I slammed the door, and when the light changed, he sped away, leaving me on the street corner.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

  I expected Gabriel to come back. I really did. It was 1 A.M. and a look around told me I was more likely to hail a rapist here than a taxi. Empty streets. Dark buildings. Two guys on the corner, locked in a drunken exchange, me moving my gun from my purse into a pocket.

  Gabriel would realize what kind of neighborhood he'd left me in, come screeching back, put down the window and say, "Get in." He wouldn't be happy about it, but even if he'd all but said We aren't friends, that thread of basic human decency would bring Gabriel back.

  Gabriel did not come back.

  I called a cab company and gave them the intersection. They said it would be "hours." In other words, they weren't coming here. I started to walk. I headed toward the two drunk guys, only because I didn't dare turn my back on them. They stopped arguing and fixed me with assessing stares. I stared back. One grumbled and resumed the argument. The other gave in after a pause, and they went back at it, ignoring me.

  I called Ricky. "I hate to do this," I said when he answered. "But could you pick me up?"

  "Sure." The thud-thud of his feet hitting the floor, followed by a stifled yawn.

  "I woke you, didn't I?"

  "Nope. Just finishing a very boring reading, waiting for my good-night text. What happened? Where's Gabriel?"

  I paused and then said, "You were right."

  "And from the sound of you, I'd rather I wasn't. What was I right about?"

  "He found out about Gwynn and Arawn. That he's Gwynn. He . . ." I inhaled. "It went badly. Really badly. We argued. I got out of the car. He took off. I waited in case he came back, and I did phone a cab, so I wouldn't bother you--"

  "Call me first. Always. Where are you?" The click of the door and the scrape of the key as he locked the deadbolt.

  I told him.

  "He left you there? God-fucking-damn him. What do you see? We need to get you someplace safe until I arrive. Restaurant, coffee shop, corner store--hell, even a twenty-four-hour laundry. I'll stay on the line until you're there."

  --

  Ricky picked me up and took me back to his apartment, where we made love. It really was making love, not having sex. It was my apology, even if he'd never know I had something to apologize for.

  I remembered everything Gabriel had said in that car, lashing out in the way guaranteed to hurt the most. Telling me what, in my gut, I feared most--that I'd been tricked, that this was all a ruse, and I was steering my life based on hallucinations. Telling me that I was also hallucinating anything between us, that if I thought we were friends, then I was a silly little fool.

  That's the guy I'd considered leaving Ricky for. Just so I'd be free to be with him, however he'd have me. Exactly how pathetic was that?

  I really had been a silly little fool, and now I made it up to Ricky. Afterward, we lay there, Ricky on his back, me curled up against him, my hand on his chest, feeling his heart slowing as I traced the edges of his triskele tattoo.

  "Can I see the designs for ours yet?" I asked.

  "They're on my phone," he mumbled sleepily. "You get it, and we'll look. If I can open my eyes."

  I smiled. "It can wait until morning. Go to sleep."

  "No, get it. I'm just resting for round two."

  "It's almost four A.M."

  "Which is why there probably won't be a round three. However, if you insist, I'll try to accommodate, because I'm selfless like that."

  I laughed, fetched his phone, and held it out.

  "Go ahead," he said. "Nothing on there you can't see."

  He directed me to a project management app.

  "You've got a lot of projects," I said as I skimmed the files.

  "I'm organized."

  "Trip list? Don't tell me you make packing lists, too."

  "Yes, I do, but that's not one of them."

  "Can I open it?"

  He flipped onto his side. "Did I say there's nothing on my phone you can't see?"

  I opened the file. It was a list of places. The Three Sist
ers, Texas. Tail of the Dragon, North Carolina . . .

  "Top ten motorcycle roads in North America," he said.

  "How many have you done?"

  "Zip." He looked at me. "You want to change that?"

  His fingers rested on my thigh. His tone was confident, but his gaze was slightly lowered, in that way he had when he suspected he might be pushing into territory that could send me backpedaling. I've never backpedaled, but Ricky intuits better than anyone I know, and I couldn't help wondering if he'd picked up on my confusion with Gabriel.

  "Are you offering to take me away from all this?" I said.

  "More like take you away when all this is over."

  "Let's do that." I held up the list. "Pick a spot."

  "Nope." He turned the phone around. "You."

  "I'd have to research--"

  "Uh-uh." He scooched me over against him and covered my eyes. "Pick one."

  I did and opened my eyes. "Cabot Trail, Nova Scotia?"

  "Hope you have a passport."

  "I do. But if you want someplace closer--"

  "Nope, I do want to take you away from all this. As far from it as we can get." He rolled onto his back and pulled me down with him. "At least for a little while."

  "God, I love you."

  "You'd better. 'Cause you're about to spend two weeks alone with me in the middle of nowhere."

  "Perfect," I said, and leaned down to kiss him.

  --

  I awoke to a text from Gabriel, telling me not to come in to work.

  "I think I just got fired," I said.

  Ricky got out of bed fast. "He sure as hell better not." He peered at my phone. "Bastard. It's a temporary overreaction, but still, that's your job. Your only source of income after he convinced you to quit the diner. He'd better not fuck with it because he's feeling pissy."

  Ricky grabbed his jeans. "I'm going to go chat with him." Before I could protest, he cut me off with a lifted hand. "No, not to give him shit for that text. He's freaking out about the Gwynn shit, and he's pissed that you didn't tell him, and I'm part of both those things. I just want to talk about that." A half smile. "I promise not to hit him, however tempted I might be."

  "Maybe I should try first and . . ." And if I did and Gabriel failed to reply and then Ricky showed up, it really would look like he was taking a message from me. "Okay, go on. After breakfast."

  --