“What is that mark?” Olivia asked. After all of this time, she could still feel the strong ward that lay imprinted in the wax. “What does it say?”
“Khewew,” Dendera whispered. “‘It has evil.’”
“Well, hot fucking damn,” said Steve as he reached into the back pocket of his jeans. “It’s about time.”
His words were so strange that both women stared at him. He pulled something out of his pocket—a switchblade. The blade flicked out, and, quicker than thought, he stabbed Dendera in the throat.
Dendera dropped the papyrus scroll and clutched at her throat, gagging as bright arterial blood spurted between her fingers.
Olivia’s mind went into shock, but her body took over. She leaped to her feet and jumped away from Steve.
She wasn’t fast enough. He was Wyr and so much faster than she. He leaped toward her and his knife flashed out.
One of the first things she had learned as a symbologist was a series of defensive spells in case something went awry at work. She flung out her hand, fingers splayed. “Avertere.”
Avert.
The spell was meant to avert destructive magics, but thrown with enough force, it averted other things as well. It hit Steve squarely in the chest. As it knocked him into the wall, she whirled and ran.
The cottage wasn’t large. She raced down the short hall, through the workroom. She flung the door open, even as she sensed Steve coming up behind her.
She wasn’t going to make it. She spun to throw another avert spell at him, and he stabbed her in the chest. She felt the blade slip into her body, between her ribs.
Instinct told her the wound was very bad. She fell backward in a sprawl, blinking as Steve wiped his blade clean on the leg of her jeans, closed the switchblade and pocketed it again. Warm wetness spread across her T-shirt and spilled in a spreading puddle across the floor.
“I wanted to spare you ladies this,” he said. “But Dendera wouldn’t let me work on the library on my own. Every time I tried to sneak out at night, some damned person was standing guard, and they’re all much better fighters than you two. Sorry about that, it’s just how it all worked out.”
He disappeared down the hall. A moment later, he returned, carrying the scroll. When he paused to study her with a narrow-eyed glance, she closed her eyes to slits, lay very still and pretended she was unconscious or dead.
She must have been convincing, because he turned back to his work. Through her eyelashes, she watched as he shifted a stack of filled containers until he reached the bottom one, which he opened.
The container held some of the most dangerous and expensive items in the library. She knew, because she had helped Steve pack it. He carefully tucked the scroll inside, locked the container and hefted it up, and walked out of the cottage.
Her hands and feet grew colder, and each breath became more difficult. Then she must have passed out, because she went blank for a formless time.
She came back to awareness with a start.
Sebastian.
Along with defensive spells, every symbologist also learned how to call for assistance. It was essential when one worked daily with Powerful and often unpredictable items.
The critical question, of course, was whether or not there would be anybody near enough to hear it.
The spell would be stronger if it was drawn in her own blood. Dipping her finger in the warm, sticky pool, she fought to pull her scattering Power together, and to punch all of her remaining strength into the symbol that she drew on the hardwood floor.
Help.
Chapter Nine
Sebastian was cursed and going blind, and he had never been happier. He was going to have to tell Olivia that he was mating with her, but he held back for now. They had known each other all of a week, and he didn’t want to scare her away.
Mating, for Wyr, was a delicate, difficult business, especially when they mated with non-Wyr. Olivia could decide to end their relationship, but after a certain point of no return, Sebastian never would.
He thought he had not quite reached that place, but he would soon.
Each day he held off was a day they could both live in the present without dealing with pressure, concerns of the future or other implications. Each day gave her more opportunity to fall in love with him in return. She was steady and reliable, intelligent and caring, and each day he grew to trust her more and more. If she fell in love with him, she would never let him go. She was made for a lifetime of marriage.
He had so much to say to her, words upon words that piled up in his chest.
How tired he had become of everything in his life. How much he was looking forward to giving up the constant travel, and how he was looking forward to the adventure of learning what it meant to have a home life. To have a real home with someone who relished nesting, and who could teach him all the best ways to enjoy it. And how much he was looking forward to taking her traveling from time to time, and relearning how to love the experience of new things through her wonder and delight.
They could find an ideal balance between both lifestyles, living not one or the other, but a little bit of both. He knew it.
He knew it.
The conviction renewed his determination to find a way to break the curse. Everything he could possibly want was just within his grasp, and he refused to relinquish any of it.
He could live blind with her, if he had to. When they talked alone, she broached the subject constantly with kindness, pragmatism and optimism, until gradually she convinced him of it.
She had read articles about a blinded avian Wyr who took regular flights with her companion avian Wyr, her mate, who flew along with her. They coasted thermals together for hours. When it came time to end the flight, he would come up underneath his mate in midflight. Then she could grab hold of him and he would bring them both safely down to the ground.
“All we would need to do is find you a seeing-eye Wyr,” Olivia said, her head on his chest. “Not that it will come to that.”
He pressed his lips to her forehead and didn’t reply, because they both knew if he was going to continue flying that it might.
In the meantime, when she was working, he flew every chance he could. The others didn’t mind his absence. The security team’s duties were light while the symbologists packed the library, and in any case, they cared about him enough to stay silent.
He relished the warmth of the sun on his wings as he circled around their end of the island. Often he closed his eyes as he rode thermals and imagined that other mated pair of avian Wyr.
He did so now, drifting through the air almost drowsily.
The job of packing would be finished in another week, then everybody would be busy transporting the containers across the passageway. By the time they were finished, reports from all his research teams would be waiting for him on the yacht.
If they had not found anything that could help him, he would consult with the Oracle right away. He did not expect that the teams would have found anything to contradict what Carling had already told him.
Tonight, he decided, he would ask Olivia if she would travel to Florida with him when he petitioned the Oracle.
Something flared against his magic sense from below, a hot, bright explosion from a Power that had become almost as familiar to him as his own.
Help.
His eyes snapped open. Olivia.
As quickly as the explosion had flared, it faded again.
He wheeled, folded his wings and hurtled down toward the cottage. On his dives he could reach speeds up to a hundred miles an hour. It didn’t feel fast enough.
As he approached, he saw Bailey racing toward the cottage. Derrick followed close behind, and so did Tony. Just before he landed, he pulled up to coast a few feet above the ground. Shifting in midflight from an owl to a man at a dead run, he reached the cottage first.
The door was open. He lunged inside, and immediately had to skid to a stop. Olivia sprawled on the floor, her T-shirt soaked in ruby liqui
d. Stunned, he dropped to his knees beside her. There was so much blood. She lay in a pool of it. One of her arms lay stretched out, her hand cupped over a glyph of fading Power. She had drawn it in her own blood.
Panic seized him in razor sharp talons. He tore her T-shirt open as he roared, “Derrick!”
Bailey slammed through the doorway. “He’s coming.” She hitched momentarily as she took in the scene. “Oh fuck.” Then she ricocheted off the wall to tear through the rest of the cottage.
Just underneath the lacy pink bra Sebastian had watched Olivia put on only a few hours ago, a thin, narrow puncture marred her creamy skin. It seeped a steady trickle of blood. Holy gods, that looked like a knife wound. His hands shook as he tore off his shirt and wadded the soft cotton material to apply pressure to it. He felt rather than heard a soft exhalation from her.
There was a faint glimmer underneath her eyelids. She said telepathically, Steve. He hurt Dendera.
“Never mind that now,” he said hoarsely.
Derrick raced in, took in the scene and dropped to his knees on the other side of Olivia. “Hi, Olivia,” the Elf said, his voice strong and calm. “You’re going to be all right. Do you hear me? Everything is going to be all right.”
Sebastian had seen Derrick reassure injured people a thousand times, on any number of expeditions. It wasn’t always the truth. Many had died, comforted by the healer’s calm confidence.
Bailey strode back into the workroom just as Tony appeared in the doorway. Bailey’s expression had turned harsh and dangerous. She said, “Dendera’s dead. She was stabbed in the throat.”
Sebastian snapped. “Find Steve. Don’t kill him.”
“Right,” said Tony. He and Bailey disappeared again.
Derrick nudged Sebastian’s hands out of the way, scanned Olivia’s wound and began to cast a series of spells. “Hang in there, honey,” the Elf said. “We’ve got you now.”
The healer sounded so sane.
Sebastian wasn’t, not in the slightest. He went to a place far beyond sanity or pride. He lay down on the floor beside Olivia and put his lips to her ear. “Olivia, please don’t leave me,” he whispered. “I’m begging you.”
He was right. Her eyes weren’t quite shut.
She blinked and said, I won’t.
Just then, Derrick also spoke in his head. Sebastian.
He snapped his head up and stared at the other male, his entire body breaking into a cold sweat.
The Elf smiled at him and nodded. Derrick wasn’t lying to reassure a dying woman.
She really was going to be okay.
Sebastian grew dizzy, the relief was so intense. He pressed his lips to the tender skin at her temple. “I don’t need your permission,” he said to her. “I’m going to start looking out for you now.”
She turned her head slightly, into his caress. That’s fine by me.
Derrick leaned forward. “Olivia, don’t be alarmed. I want to put you to sleep now so I can work on you without worrying that I might cause you any pain. I promise that you’re going to wake up in a few hours feeling much better. Is that all right with you?”
“Yes?” she whispered uncertainly. She opened her eyes, and her gaze cut sideways to Sebastian.
He brushed his lips against hers. “I’ve trusted Derrick with my life more times than I can count. Go to sleep and I will see you in a few hours.”
Derrick cast the spell and she was out before he finished speaking.
Tony and Bailey reappeared in the open doorway. They looked furious and worried at the same time. Bailey’s gaze went immediately to Olivia. “How is she?”
“I have work to do,” said Derrick. “She needs a transfusion of blood, and all I have is saline solution. The knife also struck much too close to her pulmonary artery for my liking.” The Elf sat back on his heels and looked around at the trio of worried faces. “Is this one of those times when I’m telling you too much information?”
“Yes,” Sebastian and Bailey said at the same time.
Sebastian asked, “Where’s Steve?”
“He’s gone,” Bailey said. “Well, I can’t be absolutely sure about that, because we didn’t search every single inch of the island. But all the evidence says he’s left. A wetsuit is missing from the washroom, and all the rest have been slashed, so we checked the tanks on the beach. There’s one tank missing, and he let the oxygen out from all the rest. He must have been planning this for a while.” She scowled down at Olivia as Derrick worked on her. “We had to have just missed him. We watched for threats from everywhere else, but we didn’t watch each other. Most of us can’t make the crossover without suits and tanks.”
Sebastian stood. Bailey was right. She was Light Fae, Derrick was an Elf and Tony and Olivia were human. None of them could hold their breath and swim in the frigid water for the ten minutes or so that it would take to reach the other side.
Like everyone else, Sebastian had used a suit and a tank to cross over, but that was more for comfort, not survival. As a Wyr, he generated more body heat than any of the others, and he had a powerful set of lungs.
Rage settled in him as an unshakable purpose. “You might not be able to make the crossover, but I can.”
“Make him hurt,” said Bailey. “Make him hurt real bad.”
“Count on it,” Sebastian told her.
He paused to look down at Olivia, his heart squeezing tight. He said to his people, “She’s going to be my mate.”
They all exchanged looks. None of them appeared surprised, but then they had all watched Sebastian with Olivia over the last week.
Derrick told him, “Trust me. Trust her.”
“I do,” he said.
He strode out of the cottage, shapeshifted and took wing to fly over the water. Then he shifted again in midair, rolled and dived toward the passageway. Lunging through the water as fast as he could, he thought ahead to what he would find.
Phaedra would be on watch, but the Djinn would only be on the lookout for people trying to approach the crossover passageway from Earth. She was expecting for the team to emerge from the Other land. She wouldn’t know to stop Steve.
Had Steve still been close enough to feel Olivia’s cry for help?
While the question renewed his rage, it was probably irrelevant. One way or another, as soon as Steve had made his move, he would have known that he would have to work fast. He couldn’t know whether or not Phaedra would say anything to the crew circling in the yacht at the surface. He would be swimming as fast as he could underwater, to get as much distance from the yacht as he could before surfacing, which was why he needed an oxygen tank even though he was also Wyr.
Steve had to have a preplanned route in mind. Perhaps he was meeting someone, but if he was, Sebastian doubted very much if they would chance connecting too close to Phaedra or the yacht. Just like with the crossover passageway, it would be much easier for someone to slip away than for someone to try to approach.
Then Sebastian knew where Steve was going.
The other Wyr was going to try for one of the underwater openings to an old, vast tunnel system that lay underneath San Francisco. Carling had told him about it. When Vampyres traveled back and forth from the island, they would swim to the tunnel system to avoid surfacing in any sunlight. If Steve reached the tunnels, his chances for disappearing grew a lot higher. He might even be planning to meet someone in the city.
Sebastian swam harder, pushing his body to the limit. His lungs began to burn. He needed to breathe.
He reached the other side of the passageway and sensed Phaedra’s presence.
She sensed him too. She said, sounding sleepy and bored, It’s about time you all started to come out.
We’re not, he said as he kicked upward. Steve killed Dendera, stabbed Olivia and sabotaged our equipment.
He broke the water’s surface and sucked air.
Phaedra’s physical form snapped into existence in front of him. She looked strange, as she didn’t swim, but merely appeared as if
she stood in front of him on dry land.
“He stabbed Olivia?”
“Yes.”
The Djinn scowled. “I’m very displeased. Grace will be unhappy. That will make my father furious.”
“She’s going be all right.” He cocked his head, treading water. “Are you bored enough to track Steve down? I think he’s headed for some tunnels underneath the city.”
“I will do much better than that.” She vanished, then reappeared again almost instantly with Steve wrapped in her arms, complete with wetsuit, flippers, mask, oxygen tank and the container of books hanging from him by a cord. “You were correct,” she said. “He was just beginning to crawl into a tunnel when I found him.”
Steve kicked and struggled, wriggling like a fish on the end of a line. Behind the mask, Sebastian caught a glimpse of the other man’s astonished expression.
It swiftly turned to fear as Sebastian lunged for his throat.
Sebastian didn’t kill the other man, but he did hurt him real bad. He had told Bailey he would, and he always kept his word.
Steve tried to fight, but he didn’t have a chance. Sebastian was, by far, the better and more seasoned fighter. In fact there was no comparison. Steve was hampered with the weight of the oxygen tank, the heavy container of books, and the mouthpiece and mask that obscured his face when he attempted to shapeshift to bite.
Sebastian drove his fist into that mask. Then he did it again, and again. The blows broke the lens and drove pieces of the frame into the other man’s face. They twisted together, bobbing with the waves, while Phaedra floated close by and watched curiously. Sebastian felt other bones break underneath his hands. They sank underneath the water, and he was all right with that. All he could see was the wide pool of blood where Olivia had lain.
Then other people splashed into the water alongside them. They shouted at Sebastian and worked to tear the two men apart. Sebastian recognized members of his crew from the yacht. Only then did he let go of Steve.
The symbologist lolled half-conscious as Sebastian’s crew dragged him onto the yacht. A couple of them hauled on the line to draw up the container. Ignoring the chilly air, Sebastian climbed up the ladder, issuing orders like a spray of bullets.
The Wicked (A Novella of the Elder Races) Page 9
