by Mina Carter
A scream from the direction of the bedrooms snapped Feral's head up. Tessa and the baby! With a roar of fury he twirled the Pixie in his grip, half pushing, half throwing him towards the breakfast counter and slammed the guy's face into the polished counter-top.
He rebounded with a dull groan of pain, nose spread across his face. Blood splattered the pristine side. Damn it, he was still conscious! Feral knew better than to leave a conscious opponent behind, the last thing you needed in a fight was a guy you thought you put down creeping up behind you and stabbing you in the back.
His spread hand caught the back of the Pixie's head like a basketball, slamming it back down. This time his face got up close and personal with the side and didn't rebound. Just slid boneless to the floor leaving a smeared crimson trail.
“I fucking hate Pixies!” Feral muttered, flicking blood splatter off his chest and opening a knife drawer. Selecting the heaviest blade in the drawer, he turned and headed for the bedrooms.
Tessa hadn't argued at the hard shove towards the door, launching herself through it with speed born of fear. Someone was in the apartment! And the only thing, the only reason she could think of, was the baby. She raced through the master bedroom, grabbing and pulling on her robe as she sped through like a small tornado.
She hit the door at top speed, screaming as it slammed open and into something solid the other side. Something solid which swore as the hard wood of the door slammed open unexpectedly. Desperate and using the only weapon she had at the moment, she pulled the door back and rammed it into him again. Silently she thanked God the main bedroom door opened outwards and the nursery door inwards as she barrelled through it, slamming it behind her.
Acting on pure instinct she grappled with the wardrobe behind the door, pulling it until it toppled over. It crashed across the door diagonally, blocking it. Not a moment too soon. Heavy thuds and curses erupted from the other side.
Running high on adrenalin Tessa whirled around, checking the cot which held Spud.
Startled blue eyes stared back at her, then watered as he wailed, scared by the sudden noises.
“Shhhh, shhhh, it's gonna be ok, I promise,” she whispered, already looking around the room for something she could use as a weapon. She blocked the door but there was no way she could block the window.
She gathered Spud into her arms and tried to soothe him. “Shh, shh little man. I need you to be quiet, ok?” she murmured, backing up and looking for somewhere to hide him.
There! Under the changing unit!
“Sorry about this,” she whispered as she knelt down and shoved him as far to the back as she could.
Just in time.
As she straightened up, the door crashed inwards. The wood of the wardrobe, a nursery sized one rather than full size, groaned in protest as it was pushed along the carpeted floor.
“GET OUT! HELP!! HELP!! SOMEONE HELP US!!” Tessa started to shriek like a banshee, hoping beyond hope to wake someone up in the surrounding units, and throwing things at the Pixie clambering over the wardrobe. Changing baskets, trailing nappies, flew through the air and obscured his vision but the bottles were far more effective, heavy with baby oil and lotion.
“Lisa, I'll never call your stockpiling again!” Tessa promised in an undertone as she hurled bottle after bottle with bruising accuracy, grinning as the Pixie yelped and tried to cover his head with his arms. She had always been a good pitcher as a kid. But time was running out and she knew it. Soon she was going to run out of ammunition and then she had no clue what she was going to do. She was half Pixie yes, but she was female and small, for either species. Her grasp on magic wasn’t going to help much either, she could manage low level glamour, appearance, and perhaps some ‘fairy lights’ but that was about it.
Fairy lights. That was it! Tessa threw the last bottle, managing a clear strike on the guy’s forehead which rocked his head back. Could she do it? She had nothing to lose by trying. She closed her eyes and reached deep down inside herself. It was wonderful how the imminent threat aided her concentration, delving into the part of her which was pure Pixie.
She smiled as she opened her eyes, feeling the familiar tingle in her fingers as the Witching, the magical layer in everything, surrounded everything, reacted to her.
She raised her hands and spread them out as tiny balls of light appeared in her palms.
Fairy lights, a charm to amuse children and considered a party trick, nothing more. The Pixie didn’t seem impressed, rubbing his head as he straightened and looked at her.
“Pretty, but it ain’t going to help you one bit bitch! Hand over the kid!” He ordered as he advanced menacingly. This was it, now or never. She tested her hold on the Witching, finding it firm, then flicked her wrists. The lights, normally benign orbs of light which fluttered around like fireflies, made more like wasps.
The soft buzzing around them increased to fever pitch. One broke away, the Pixie’s eyes followed it, hovering higher than the rest for a moment. Then it dive-bombed, heading right for the intruder’s eyes.
“Holy shit! Getitoff me!!” he demanded, flapping his hands and arms as he tried to fend off the attacking ball of light which had acquired the tenacity of a terrier. Ignoring the flailing hands it dodged and darted in, attacking repeatedly.
That seemed to be the signal, the floodgates opened and the rest attacked like a horde, diving and circling, completely blinding the Pixie. As he fumbled around the room, trying to shake them off, Tessa looked around for something to knock him out with.
“Fluffy toys, fluffy toys… Christ isn’t there anything harder than a damn marshmallow in here?” she exclaimed in frustration, running out of options … and time. The glamour she had cast wouldn’t last forever and she wouldn’t be able to cast again for at least an hour.
Then her gaze fell down the side of the shelves. There, tucked away in the corner, was James’s prize possession. A baseball bat signed by someone or other. Tessa grabbed it like it was a lifeline, dragging it out from the tiny gap. Palms sweaty and heart pounding she padded towards the Pixie. Could she do it? Could she actually swing the bat and hit another living creature? She wasn’t a violent person… not really, she was all mouth and bluster.
“Arrggh, you wait bitch! When I get these damn things off me, I’ll fucking gut you!”
The Pixie’s bellowed threat made up Tessa’s mind for her. She drew the bat back, closed her eyes and, wincing, she swung it with all her might.
It hit with a meaty crunch, the Pixie’s threats and complaints falling silent along with the dull thud as something large hit the floor. Tessa opened her eyes in surprise, looking down at the prone form of the Pixie. She’d done it! She’d actually done it!
“Strrrrrike!”
Tessa swung around at the voice from the doorway, drew the bat back again. An automatic reaction, ready to swing for anyone who wanted to take the baby. But it was Feral’s dark eyes that met hers, amusement in them, as he started to clear the ruins of the nursery wardrobe out of the way.
“Oh my god, Feral!” She half squeaked, half gasped. She’d never been so pleased to see anyone in her life, throwing herself across the short distance and into his arms; the bat fell unheeded to the carpet. “Are you ok? You’re not hurt?” she demanded, all but throttling him in her relief.
He chuckled, a deep rumble from low in his check as he hugged her back, his hands smoothed down her back soothingly. “I’m ok. Takes more than a bunch of half-assed Pixies to bother me,” he grinned, letting her go to continue clearing the doorway.
“Just remind me not to piss you off, ok?” he chuckled, nodding towards the bat on the floor and the still form of the Pixie. “Where’s the baby? We need to get out of here, like yesterday. Whoever sent this lot… well, they’re playing hardball.”
Chapter Four
The Fae Court was the eighth wonder of the world. Or perhaps the first would be more accurate since it had formed before even Fae memory began, which was well before human memory and certainly before any of the
structures on the traditional list had been constructed.
The Court was a law unto itself. It worked to an agenda none living, or possibly sane, could figure out. Most of the time it appeared at the archetype of a romantic court. High vaulted ceilings and walls of smooth, veined marble, the veins sparkling silver as they caught the light. Light cast from glow orbs set in brackets on the walls or from willow-the-wisps twisted into the glorious crystal chandeliers. It was the sort of place you expected a fairytale princess to turn the next corner, brushing her hair and waiting for her prince charming to arrive. But occasionally, when the Court was stressed, it appeared in different forms. A gothic castle or even, when it was really stressed, the rough hewn dirt walls of the barrow it had been originally.
But at the moment, it was a glorious sight to rival any Mortal King's palace and one very few would ever get to see. It was also completely ignored by the woman who swept through the massive doorway. Slender and almost childlike in form she had the delicate fragility of a full blooded Fae. One of the old blood, not the new generations whose blood had been filtered by Elven or other blood. There weren't many left these days. The old lines had died out, leaving just the seven sisters and Mab. With this generation they would be gone.
Hard to worry too much about that though when a generation could span thousands of years.
She stormed into the large, high-ceilinged hall, her face like thunder. With an imperious wave she ordered the door closed, ignoring the servant who scurried to do her bidding.
“So you failed. Why am I not surprised?” Although her appearance was ethereally beautiful, the aura that surrounded her invoking feelings of goodness and awe, the voice that issued from the perfect cupids bow of her lips was as sharp as a whip. And twice as venomous.
She stalked in front of the three Pixie's sent to recover the Morrigan child, forced to their knees in front of her by her guards. All three trembled as she approached. A small smile curved her perfect lips as she switched the hem of her white gown away from their knees, as though worried about marking the pristine hem.
Fearful, just the way she liked them. Closing her eyes for a moment she savoured the fear that oozed from their skin. She shivered, such a delicious treat!
“Do you know how much energy it cost me to get that brat separated from its parents?” she demanded, her voice sharpening as the initial hit from their fear wore off and she recalled their failure.
To a man, Pixie or Fae, everyone in the room avoided the gaze of the Princess. The Pixies held before her, the guards doing the holding and the gaggle of Pixies huddled in the corner. Her Pixies, to do with as she wished after their fool of a Warlord tried to put one over on her in a deal and ended up trapped by Fae law. She'd taken his pack and his flesh for the insult, and she gloried in it. Pixie flesh and blood were powerful. She hadn't needed to feed for weeks after the Pixie Warlord had shared her bed.
A mutter from one of the kneeling Pixies drew her attention and she leaned forwards.
“What was that?” she demanded, her voice sharp.
“It wasn't our fault!” The 'leader' of the trio complained, daring a look up. His bravado didn't last long and he looked down again, visibly quaking at the look in her storm-grey eyes.
“There was a Kyn guy there, a Warrior,” he muttered. “We were only expecting a woman and a human,” he added, flinching as though expecting a blow.
“Excuses, excuses! Always bloody excuses!” She exploded, seething in anger. If it wasn't the bloody nanny suddenly developing a conscience and dropping the brat off on the first Pixie doorstep she could find, it was this bunch of incompetents. A bloody Kyn indeed.
Like she believed that!
“Do I have to do everything around here myself? Do not answer that Talven!!” she ordered sharply as her Guard Captain looked up, a frown on his handsome face.
That was the trouble with some of these half breeds. Pretty to look at but it was very much a case of 'lights are on but no one was home'. Talven, a Sidhe half-breed, fit that description to a T. The hopeful expression in his eyes bolstered her feminine ego at the same time as irritating the hell out of her. If she kicked him she was sure he'd thank her!
She tutted under her breath. “Get these idiots out of my sight,” she ordered with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Get them cleaned up and sent to my chambers, I'll deal with them later,”
The low moan from one of the trio as they were hauled to their feet got her attention.
But not as much as the fresh wave of terror that rolled towards her. She held her hand out, an unspoken order to stop as she stepped forwards.
The sound had come from the youngest. Barely in his twenties with smooth, handsome features and a strong, well muscled body. He had the sort of looks that fired her interest, her body awakening as it felt the pull of attraction.
“Oh, don't worry,” Her voice was a soft croon as she moved closer to fit against him, nestling her slender body against his. He flinched, trying to move away, but the hard hold of the guards held him immobile in front of her. “There, there,” she murmured, her voice soft and lover-like as she stroked the side of his jaw. A fine tremor racked his body as she leaned in to lay a gentle kiss on his lips.
“It's all going to be fine, I'll be gentle with you, I promise,” she assured him, a promise which didn't seem to have much of a reassuring effect on the young Pixie. Faced with one of his worst nightmare's wrapped up in a breathtakingly beautiful package his breathing was panicked, his eyes wild, as he tried desperately not to look at her.
Growing tired of this game she reached out and pulled his jaw around. He struggled but she was far stronger than her delicate appearance should allow, even for a Fae. She caught his forest green eyes with her own dark gaze. “We'll have ourselves a good night you and I,”
she whispered.
His terrified moan, more animalistic than anything, echoed around the chamber at the same time a hot acrid smell assaulted her sensitive nostrils. She leapt away, pushing off from his broad chest, her nose wrinkling in distaste as a dark stain spread over the front of his trousers.
“Oh for heavens sake! Get them out of my sight!” she hissed in annoyance. What was it with men these days? She longed to find a real man, not one that lost control of his bodily functions when she so much as looked at him. One who would stand up to her...
“Right, the rest of you,” She turned on her heel and glared at the huddled group in the corner as the three who failed were dragged away. “Get out there and get that damn baby, I don't care how you do it. Just do it!” she ordered, a warning in her voice about their fate should they fail her again. The atmosphere in the room grew cold, as though the very building were affected by her mood.
“Now go!” S he snapped, turning in a flurry of skirt to stalk up the length of the hall.
Movement broke out behind her as the Pixies made their escape, followed by the measured tread of her guard. A small sigh escaped her as she approached the dais at the end of the large hall. She paused at the bottom of the steps and looked at the throne sat atop it.
Made of stone it was one of seven, each sat in a hall of its own around the Court. Or, when required, pulled by the Court itself into the Queen's hall to sit flanked around Mab. One throne for each of the Seven Sisters. The seven Fae Princesses. Beloved by the land, all powerful amongst the Fae and all that crap... but she wanted to be more powerful. She wanted, needed...
“What are you, some sort of one man army?” Tessa asked as she leaned in the doorway of the main bedroom and watched Feral pull a multitude of weapons from a case.
Ten minutes had seen a rapid exit from her sister's now trashed apartment, Feral only allowed enough of a delay for her to grab her weekend bag and one for the baby. She knew her sister was going to kill her for the state of the place but right at the moment Tessa couldn't bring herself to worry about it.
She shrugged the skinny fit t-shirt she pulled on into place, smoothing it automatically over her now denim-clad hips as she w
atched him with interest. She had known he was dangerous from the moment she'd seen him on her doorstep. She knew enough about Kyn to know the heavy tattoo-like marks across one side of his body and down his arm marked him as a Kyn Warrior. Baddest of the bad type dude. But it was one thing to know that intellectually and quite another to see him kitting up.
Gone were the well washed jeans hanging low on his hips, the slight vee of hair on his washboard stomach that disappeared into his waistband teasing her beyond belief. They were replaced by near identical pair in black denim over heavy black boots, teamed with a polo that clung lovingly to the heavy muscles of his chest and shoulders. The clothing, combined with the 'bad ass' attitude that surrounded him, were enough to make old ladies cross the street to avoid him. And that was before you considered the weaponry.
His lips quirked as he carried on arming up.
“Yup, pretty much so. Have to be fighting the Rogue. We patrol in pairs but there's always the chance your partner could fall, then you're on your own,” he said shortly, his face tight.
A brief flash of anger, a rage so complete it took Tessa's breath away, crossed his face.
She didn't need him to spell it out to tell something bad had happened sometime in the past, that a partner had gone down. Curiosity filled her but the forbidding look on his face warned her off asking.
His movements were deft, moving with the ease of long experience as he strapped knives and blades over what seemed like every available body surface. Sheaths on the inside of his wrists, more in the heavy boots.
“You need all that for what you do?” she asked, her curiosity about him increasing.
He moved with a grace she found fascinating, retrieving a heavy belt from across the back of a chair in the corner and buckling it around his lean hips. This was a different man from the one she'd been laughing and joking with back in her sister’s apartment.
“Not really no, they're mostly backup,” Feral replied, wondering idly if she ever stopped talking. Not that it was bothering him as it usually would. He liked working with his patrol partner Vixen for one reason, she wasn't into idle chatter. Women had a reputation for gossiping but they had nothing on men when they got together. Some of his previous partners had chattered so much he had given serious consideration to killing them and hiding their bodies in a dumpster somewhere. But Tessa's questions didn't bother him at all.
