Fire Maidens: London

by Lowe, Anna

Gareth raised one thin eyebrow but didn’t say a word.

  Liam moved around, pulling out cold cuts and condiments, all the time wishing one of his buddies were there. Someone to talk to — anyone. Sergio, Tristan — even taciturn Marco would do. But Sergio was in London, tracking the Lombardis. Tristan was living the good life in Paris with Natalie, his mate. Marco had withdrawn to Lisbon, avoiding women like the plague. And the other guys were… Well, spread out all over the world.

  He glanced at Gareth, considered, then shook his head. The raven shifter was not the type a guy could spill his guts to.

  And yet, a minute later, he found himself saying, “Gareth?”

  “Sir,” the raven shifter said in his usual monotone.

  Liam nearly substituted Do we have any olives? for what he really had to say, but somehow, he forced it out.

  “I have a problem.”

  Gareth shot him a loaded look that said, Lad, you have more than you know.

  “I mean, a question,” Liam said in a rush.

  Gareth took out a serrated knife and a loaf of peasant bread — one he’d baked early that morning, judging by the heavenly scent — and started cutting thick slices.

  “A question.”

  Gareth’s tone didn’t exactly beg Liam to go on, but he did anyway. “About my parents…”

  The sawing motion of Gareth’s knife halted, then resumed in a slower, more deliberate way.

  “I see.”

  Liam kept busy arranging a platter of cold cuts and cheese. “I think I remember some things, but they don’t match what I know.”

  “Aha. And how do you know you know?”

  “From what my relatives explained.”

  Gareth snorted. “What exactly did they explain?”

  He frowned, looking out the window. “What a mistake my mother made, falling for my father. How much she hated it here.”

  So far, every slice Gareth cut was perfectly even, but the next one was a torn, ragged mess. “And you believe that?”

  Liam thought about the rubber boots Gemma had used. A pair that scuffed and worn spoke of countless walks over the moors. Long, pleasurable walks, he decided, not walks to get away.

  He stared out the window. “I don’t know what to believe any more. About my mother or my father…”

  “What do you remember about him?”

  “My aunt says—”

  Gareth cut in sharply. “I didn’t ask what that woman told you. I asked what you remember.”

  The raven shifter’s eyes flashed, and Liam stared for a moment. Then he closed his eyes and searched his memories.

  “I remember his voice. It was all deep and rumbly…”

  “Like your grandfather’s,” Gareth interjected softly.

  “I remember him carrying me on his shoulders and how high it felt up there.” Liam smiled faintly. “I remember that he would hug my mother while she hugged me, all three of us all wrapped up.” Then he sighed. “That’s what I see in my mind. But maybe I just created a little fantasy world for myself.”

  For the first time ever, Gareth’s face was softer, more forgiving. “Not a fantasy, sir. That’s how it was.” His voice went all scratchy, as if it had been his loss as much as Liam’s.

  “But it doesn’t make sense. I thought my father made a mess of things, and that my grandfather cast him out.”

  “Doesn’t every young man make mistakes?”

  Liam’s eyes hit the floor.

  “Your grandfather did indeed cast out your father in hopes that he would reform.”

  Liam scuffed the stone floor. “But he never did.”

  Gareth shook his head. “On the contrary. When he met your mother. When you were born.”

  “That’s not what my aunt said.”

  “May I suggest your lion relatives had their own agenda?”

  Liam stared at his feet. Yeah, that rang true. “But my father went off in a rage and got himself killed.”

  “On good grounds. The Lombardi clan was staging a coup—”

  Liam snapped his head up. “Lombardi?”

  Gareth nodded. “That led to their banishment from Europe. At least, at the time. Word has it, they have recently returned.”

  Liam’s mind spun. It was all connected. His life, his father’s. Gemma’s and his mother’s. The Lombardis…

  “And as for getting himself killed…” Gareth’s voice shook with anger. “Your father flew off to stop the Lombardis before they seized power. Your mother went to beg the Guardians for help. But the lions refused to heed her warnings, so she rushed to help your father. We arrived just in time to see him fall.”

  Gareth’s voice wavered, shocking Liam. The old man had emotions? And, wow. He’d been so loyal as to follow Liam’s parents into battle?

  “We did what we could, but it was too late. The enemy was repelled, but your father paid the ultimate price. And your mother…” Gareth’s voice drifted off sadly.

  “She died of sorrow, mourning her mate,” Liam whispered.

  The wrinkles on Gareth’s aged face deepened. “I see the lions told you one truth among all the lies.”

  A bang sounded, and Liam realized it was his own fist, thumping the table. “But why? Why would everyone lie?”

  Gareth studied the knife wordlessly, then started sharpening it against a stone. Back and forth, back and forth, every slow pull scraping through Liam’s ears.

  “The days of a true alliance between lions and dragons are past, I fear,” Gareth murmured between long strokes of the blade. “Lions always respected the power of dragons, but that turned to fear in time. Fear leads to mistrust, and mistrust leads to…”

  “Lies. So many lies,” Liam filled in.

  Gareth took him by the shoulders. “Your father saw beyond the tribalism and took a stand. He was open-minded enough to love a lion. He laid down his life for the greater good — of everyone.” He shook his head sadly. “Lions like to think they have a monopoly on courage and honor. But your father — and mother — possessed more courage and honor than all the lions of London combined.”

  Seconds ticked by as ponderously as the beat of Liam’s heart. Gareth wasn’t just a cranky old man. And Liam’s parents weren’t what his aunt had made them out to be. Not even close.

  Gareth turned abruptly, rearranging the bread slices as if that mattered in some way. Then he snapped his fingers and motioned toward the pantry. “Get the mustard.”

  Back to the old — cold — relationship? Liam sighed. “Isn’t there something like rank around here?”

  Gareth shot him a side-eyed glance. “Indeed, there is, Mr. Bennett. You just have to earn it…sir.”

  Liam chewed on that for the next few minutes. He’d had the vague hope that the respect he’d earned in the Foreign Legion would carry over, but that wasn’t how it worked. A man had to prove himself again and again to judges — like Gareth — who were notoriously hard to please.

  Then soft steps sounded on the staircase, and they both looked up as Gemma approached.

  As always, Liam burst into a smile, but it quickly faded, and he muttered, “Something tells me this is bound for disaster, like my parents.”

  He hadn’t meant for Gareth to catch that, but the old man’s senses were keen. “Your parents acted out of love. Pure, undying love. Have you resided among lions so long that you’ve forgotten that?”

  Liam hung his head.

  Gareth glanced at the doorway, then whispered sternly. “A man will never fail if he is guided by love — and if he abides by the truth.”

  Liam pursed his lips. Gareth had picked up on more than he’d thought.

  Gemma came bounding down the stairs, peppy and bright as…as… Well, a gem.

  “Hi.” She thumped Liam on the shoulder then smiled at Gareth. “Hello to you too.”

  Gareth gave a little bow. “Good day to you, miss.”

  Gemma looked between Liam and Gareth, gradually sensing the tension in the air. “Can I help?”

  Gareth shot Liam a sha
rp look. The ball’s in your court, lad.

  Liam swallowed hard, then took Gemma by the hand. “Care for a breath of fresh air?”

  Her eyes studied his, but she followed silently. Liam pushed through the kitchen door and then the heavy outer door that led to a small garden with huge views over the landscape. There, he ran his hand over the sun-warmed rock wall, wondering whether his father had ever done the same, or his grandfather and great-grandfather before that. Then he paused, touching the rough surface again. Yes, they had. He could feel it deep inside. He could hear it in the whisper of the wind over the hills. This remote, rocky place had a history, and that history was his own.

  He looked around, taking it all in. This place was home in a way the sprawling manor house in Richmond had never been.

  The next breath he took ended up being a deep one, because it hit him for the first time. Who he was, and where he had come from. He wasn’t Liam Bennett, lesser cousin of the Blackwood pride. He was Liam Bennett, son of a loving mother and a devoted father, whose life stories amounted to much more than a reckless, tragic end.

  He sniffed the clean, crisp air the way he was sure his mother had done, then squeezed Gemma’s hand.

  “Everything okay?” Gemma whispered.

  He nodded, collecting himself, then took her by both hands.

  “I have to tell you who I am. Who I really am, and what this is all about.”

  Puzzlement showed in her eyes, then trust. “You’re the not-so-crazy man who keeps saving me. The one I tried so hard not to fall in love with and failed.”

  Her words were music to his ears, but he forced himself to go on.

  “I love you, Gemma. I knew that the minute I met you, and I fall harder for you every minute we spend together.”

  Her lips curled into a bright smile.

  “But there’s so much I have to tell you. Things you need to know.”

  “Like what?”

  “I come from a family of mixed blood…”

  Gemma rolled her eyes. “Boy, do you Brits need to get with the times.”

  “Mixed shifter blood, I mean. My mother was a lion. My father was a dragon.”

  She froze. “Dragon?”

  “Not one of the bad guys,” he said quickly. “He loved my mother. He died for a good cause. He…he was so much more than my relatives ever admitted.”

  Gemma looked perplexed, but he went on. “That’s one thing. There’s another.”

  Now she really looked wary, and he wished he’d told her everything from the start.

  “The Guardians… They ordered me to…to…”

  She crossed her arms. “To what?”

  He grimaced. “To find you. To seduce you. To mate with you.”

  “What?”

  Roosting birds fluttered away as her screech carried over the stone walls.

  Liam stuck up his hands. “But I already knew you’re the one. My mate. My destiny. I only walked into that meeting afterward.”

  As if to clear her ears, Gemma shook her head. “Why would they order you to do that?”

  “Because a Fire Maiden mated to a shifter with lion blood would make her easier to control.”

  Her face turned crimson. “To control?”

  Oh God. He was getting it all wrong. “I didn’t want any part of that.”

  Her eyes flashed. “You didn’t? Then why did you bring me here? Why did you sleep with me?” Her voice rose.

  He threw up a hand in a stop sign in case she tried to shove him into the moat. “I wanted you because I love you. I didn’t want the Guardians to use you. Don’t you see?”

  “No, I don’t see. I don’t see at all.” She waved her hands as if a nest of hornets had surrounded her. “The Guardians want to control me? What gives them the right?”

  She spun on her heel and race-walked inside. Liam jogged after her, but when he touched her shoulder, she smacked his hand aside.

  “Don’t touch me.”

  “Gemma…”

  “Don’t talk to me. I need to think. No, I need to kill someone. Who do those assholes think they are?”

  And on she went, racing through the house. Heading to the…pantry?

  She opened the door, grimaced at the dead end, and slammed it shut. “How the hell do I get out of here?”

  Liam hesitated. He could send her in circles around the maze of the castle until she cooled down, but that wasn’t exactly fair. Instead, he pointed. What else could he do?

  She strode through the correct door, almost kicked down several others, and burst into the forecourt. Her step faltered as she scanned the barren hills, and he could read her mind. No bus. No taxi. No way to leave.

  Then her eyes narrowed on the garage, and she snapped her fingers. “Keys.”

  “Keys?”

  “I’m borrowing your car.”

  “You can’t leave,” he said. But, bugger. That came out wrong, too.

  She folded her arms and stuck up her chin. “Are you going to force me? Control me?”

  He pointed to the sky in warning. “There are dragons after you.”

  “Which dragons? You? Or do you mean lions, like the ones who want to use me? Oh, wait. That could be you, too.”

  She was on a roll, and nothing short of flinging her over his shoulder would stop her. But that was out of the question.

  “I control my life.” She fumed. “Not you, not the Guardians. No one, you got that?”

  “Believe me, I get it. They want to control me too. But we won’t let them.”

  She whirled. “No? You’ve done pretty much everything they ordered, didn’t you?” She covered her face with her hands. “How could you? How dare they?”

  Liam touched her shoulder. “I mean it, Gemma. I love you in spite of them, not because anyone ordered me to. Please. Just think this through.”

  “That’s exactly what I intend to do.” She held out her hand, looking frighteningly resolute.

  His gut folded, and his heart sank. Was it possible to make a bigger mess of things? No matter how fast his mind spun, he couldn’t find a way out of the pit he’d dug himself into. Eventually, he motioned to the car, totally at a loss. “The keys are in the ignition.”

  She eyed him suspiciously.

  He shook his head. No, it wasn’t a trick. “I love you, Gemma. I’d do anything for you.”

  Her eyes flickered, and he could see her inner battle. But Gemma wouldn’t be Gemma if she didn’t have a stubborn streak.

  “Then you’ll let me go.”

  He opened his mouth. I don’t want to let you go. I want you to stay. Please.

  But then he sealed his lips, utterly defeated. What was it Gareth had said? A man will never fail if he is guided by love — and if he abides by the truth.

  But, shit. Was he really going to let the woman he loved slip away?

  He gulped, and the words he forced out came in a gritty whisper. “I love you, Gemma. I will always love you. But if you need to go…” He choked up, then pushed on. “Then you have to go.”

  Her lips trembled, and her hands tightened in an I mean it, buster move.

  Well, he meant what he’d said, too. So, he repeated the words, praying she would believe him. “I love you enough to let you go. Even if I hate it. Even if it kills me.”

  Her jaw went all tight, and her eyes glistened with tears. But then she whirled, slid into the car, and backed it out of the barn.

  No! Gemma, please, his lion roared.

  Then, with one last look back, Gemma gunned the engine and shot down the road.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Gemma wiped the tears from her eyes and cursed for the tenth time. Why had she been so gullible? Why hadn’t she learned more about supernaturals before getting involved with Liam?

  And dammit, why couldn’t she hate him?

  She drove and drove, not sure what she wanted other than to gain some space. Did she really want to leave him? Hell no. But she couldn’t stay. Not after discovering how she’d been used.

  Cur
sing herself for leaving her phone on Valhalla in her rushed escape, she pulled into a small village and hurried into a phone booth — one of those traditional red ones. Haltingly, she fumbled with some coins she’d found in the car, punched in the number she’d memorized long before the era of cell phones, and muttered while the phone rang. “Come on…come on…”

  She craned her neck, peering out each red rectangle of glass for any sign of trouble.

  “Hello?”

  “Dad?” she all but yelped. “I need to see you, right away.”

  “Of course. Do you want to come over?”

  She snorted. If only she were just a few Tube stops away. “I’m in Wales. Dammit, why didn’t you ever tell me about Fire Maidens?”

  The line went quiet for a moment before he replied. “What’s happened? Are you all right?”

  It took five minutes to summarize and another few to decide on a meeting point on the outskirts of Bristol — a longer drive for her father than for her, but far enough from London to feel safe.

  “See you there, then. The Fox and the Hounds.”

  “See you there.” She hung up, jumped back in the car, and drove on — and on and on.

  What seemed like hours later, she found the country road her father had described, and pulled into the parking area of the pub. There, she cut the engine, looking at the swinging sign above the door. In it, a fox peeked around the edge of a beer barrel while a dozen hounds downed frothy drinks.

  Gemma snorted. The Fox and the Hounds — a fitting place for a woman on the run.

  She peered around, then darted inside, taking a seat near a window and the back door. If any lion or dragon shifter appeared, she was out of there.

  The problem would be recognizing shifters in human form. Every unfamiliar face spelled trouble, especially in her current frame of mind. The tall, balding bartender — was he an eagle shifter? The tireless waitress — a fox? And that group of men huddled by the fireplace — could they be a pack of wolves?

  For the first half hour, she fumed, hating everyone — above all, herself. Liam and her father had tried telling her the truth, but she hadn’t listened until it was too late. Then for the next hour, she dissected everything that had happened over the past few days, wondering where she’d gone wrong. Eventually, she moved on to sheer depression, because what the heck would she do next?