by LJ Swallow
"Who is he?" demands Bastian and pulls himself upright. "What are you doing with lowlifes?"
"Ha! You're asking me that question? The lowest of lowlifes?"
Bastian’s long fingers touch my cheek. "Darling girl, you were never that to me. I wanted to show the world you could be more. With me, you can have everything. You don't need to be that girl."
"Or hold my own opinions, apparently." I pause and swallow. "Then there's the consent issues."
"What consent issues?" asks Cillian sharply.
I keep my eyes fixed on Bastian. "Fae like to take things they want. 'Yes' once means 'yes' every time. Their moral compass is broken."
"You'd better not be suggesting what I think." Cillian's left hand trembles, and when a blue hue takes over I know this isn't fear. "I suggest you fuck off and leave Syv alone."
The cold in his voice is as thick as the frost covering his fingers.
The dumb fae doesn't react. "Do you know who I am?"
"Do I give a shit?"
"You will."
"Yeah?" The blue glow around Cillian's hand intensifies. "Ever experienced elemental magic, fairy?"
I stand between them, hands outstretched towards either chest. Never, ever call a fae ‘fairy’. "Maybe drop this. I doubt Sim wants a battle in the middle of his club."
"You pay for the damage if your lovers fight." Sim huffs. "See, this is the whole reason I don't let anybody but fae in here." He waves a hand at Cillian. "Just piss off, Dweller."
"Come back to me, Syv," Bastian cajoles. "You need somebody to care for and protect you."
I stiffen in surprise when Cillian winds an arm around my waist. "Why do you think I'm so protective? Didn't you hear what she said? Syv's my girl, and she gets everything she needs from me."
How do I handle this? I don't find myself in this situation often—or at all. People don't try to help me. In the past, I've worked with others, guys usually, but not directly on jobs together. We'd often check in, spend time relaxing, but never had each other's backs on a job. Taron and Abel, the assassin and the mercenary vampires, were the closest I came, but never emotionally. Because we were different races? Maybe. Because of our distrust of everybody? Perhaps.
But they're dead now.
So, I'm not keen on an elemental with blue magic crackling at his fingers, fury shaking through his other arm around my waist telling Bastian I'm his. I clench my jaw against the knee-jerk reaction to demand he lets me go.
Bastian sneers at him. "Yeah, she looks really into you."
"At least she's with me by choice." The magic continues to crackle between his fingers and Bastian watches closely.
"Go on, fuck boy. What are you going to do to me? Your kind have to behave." He tips his chin at Cillian with a sneer. "You don't want to get into shit with the fae. We’ll hand you over to the Horsemen, and you know how little they tolerate you lowlife Dwellers."
Cillian's eyes glow with the white I saw the other day on the side road and I grab his magic-free hand. "Cillian. Leave it. Don't draw attention."
"Yeah, get the hell out of here!" snarls Sim. "I only let you in today because you were Syv's friend. If I'd known you were going to pull this shit, I would've said no."
"Where's Morgan?" I ask Cillian.
"Outside. The Horsemen left after agreeing to help." Is the hard set to his jaw because of Bastian or something more?
"How did you know I was here?" I ask Bastian.
Cillian's arm around my waist feels unfamiliar and I gently move away in case a sudden withdrawal ruins Cillian's crazy illusion.
"I heard you'd moved back, Syv. I just returned to England myself. I decided to take you back."
"Take me back? I'm not a possession."
Bastian steps forward. He's taller than most fae, a head taller than Cillian. He stares down his nose, violet eyes from his royal lineage shining. "I don't believe Syv wants you."
"Oh, I want him okay." I slide my hand behind Cillian and squeeze his backside through his leather pants. "He has plenty to offer."
Cillian responds by doing the same to me. "And you know Syv. Always takes what's on offer."
I throw him a sweet smile. "Only if you make it worth my while."
His sickly couple-ness continues as he pushes me on the nose. "You know I always do, snookums."
Snookums?
Freaking snookums?
My stunned response allows Bastian to interrupt. "I'll agree not to bother Syv anymore, if I believe you're a couple. And I don't believe you."
Cillian cocks his head. "A couple? Correct. We're not a couple."
A smile spreads across Bastian’s face. "Knew it!"
"No, I'm just one of her harem,” Cillian says nonchalantly.
Immediately thoughts of Vee and her Horsemen harem leap into my head. I'm sure the variety is nice, but the whole 'we're fated to be together and we will protect you forever' shit would get old with me. Fast.
"Harem? Really?" Bastian narrows his eyes. "Syv never has time for anyone but herself. One man would be a stretch for her."
"Maybe she was looking for the right man—men. Syv likes to be in control, don't you?" He pushes hair from my face and kisses my cheek. "One isn’t enough for her."
Okay. This is getting really freaking weird. I catch his fingers with a half-way laugh. "I like a man who does what I tell him."
Our eyes meet. "I know."
Bastian makes a disgusted noise and waves a hand at me. "Well, good luck with your harem, Syv." Then he leans forward and says to Cillian in a low voice. "And you? Watch who you play games with."
"Syv? She doesn't play games. Well, apart from the fun ones."
He sneers. "No, but like I said, Horsemen don't like Dwellers who cause trouble. You just pissed off someone high up in the fae court. And you’re in trouble too, Syv."
"The Horsemen don't like the fae, you know that," I retort. "And they owe me."
Bastian’s irises glow brighter. "An unstable magic user attacking me is a bigger issue than a mercenary whore."
Bastian stumbles back as Cillian's fist slams into his nose, and he steadies himself on the wall. When Bastian touches his face, he pales further at the dark blood on his fingers.
"I didn’t use magic that time," growls Cillian. "And you've no proof I hit you. I'm sure you have a shitload of enemies happy to break your face."
I grip Cillian's fist so he can't attack again, relieved that Bastian doesn't retaliate. Instead, he wipes his nose with the edge of his jacket and pulls himself from the wall.
"You're going to regret that, Dweller." I tense as he moves towards me, ready to defend myself. I don't care—if Bastian touches me, I'll add to his facial injuries. "And you, watch your back too, Syv."
I smile though my fear and confusion. "I spend my life doing that. Nothing new."
Bastian heads away, striding through the door, head held high. Sim shakes his head and points at the door. "No more, Syv. You're banned too."
"What the fuck? I'm one of your best customers."
"I should've known better than let a Dweller in here. Now, as I asked before, piss off." He turns back to his room and slams the door.
Without waiting for Cillian's response, I stride away. I need out. Fresh air. Reaching the rear fire door, I kick it open and an alarm sounds as the door slams against the outside wall. Cillian catches me in seconds and pulls at my arm to stop me.
"Syv."
The piled-up crates behind the building and half-filled skip obscure us from view. Cillian closes the door behind, and the alarm stops.
"Why the hell did you interfere?" I snap. "I can look after myself."
"Can you? It sounds like Bastian assaulted you in the past, Syv, and more than once." His anger hasn't dropped and is now flowing toward me. "Shame it's not Bastian's bones we're looking for because I would take one of his."
"People attack me all the time, Cillian. And that's not a helpful attitude."
"But this situation is different. I bet anybody
who screws with you learns not to try a second time. Not unless they like pain. Why did you stay with him?"
My stomach churns with the memory and disgust that Cillian is implying I'm weak. "How much do you know about fae, Cillian? I made a mistake, but he has no power over me now."
Cillian's eyes soften and he reaches out to touch my face. I back away. Far away.
"The bigger issue here is you used magic against a fae," I say. "He's correct about the Horsemen coming after you."
"They only care if supes attack humans," replies Cillian.
"And if they attack fae. Long story. Politics. If Bastian heads to the guys with stories about this attack, you're in trouble. You're already on the Horsemen's hit list because you're a Dweller." My stomach sinks at the new situation. "We can't piss off the Horsemen. We need their help."
His eyes flick to my marked arm and back to my face. "Okay, I apologise. I lost my shit because the fae behaved like he owned you. The situation didn't look good."
"Like I said, I can look after myself. Don't interfere again." He responds with a laugh and I straighten. "What's funny?"
"You. You're marked for death and can't fix yourself. You've already asked for our help."
"Because you need mine," I retort. "This is a business arrangement."
"Is it?"
"Yeah, a business arrangement with my harem, apparently." I shove my hands into my back pockets. "Why the hell did you tell Bastian that story? I can’t wait until you tell Morgan and Dex about their new position in my life and see their faces when you do." I walk away from him.
I expect Cillian to catch up, to try to push the issue, but his footsteps don't follow me immediately. Did he notice my hands shaking after the encounter? Sense how much my fae ex scares me?
I pause. What if Bastian waits around the corner?
"You're shaking, Syv." Cillian reaches me and touches my face. His fingers are icy cold against my heated cheeks.
I shove my hands into my pockets. "I'm okay."
We stand for a moment, and I look back at Cillian. My unlikely knight in shining armour who lanced the fae bastard with ice and tore his feet from under him. I enjoyed watching a humiliated Bastian land on his arse, but won't enjoy the repercussions.
"I want to hug you right now," he says in a soft voice. "Let you know you're safe."
For the second time in an hour, my head hurts as I try to stop my eyes watering. What the hell is wrong with me? I can handle stress and threats to my life.
I dip my head and step back. "I'm okay. Not a hugger."
To Cillian, I'm just the girl with the skills to find what he wants. Maybe a potential lover. Or am I more important to him than I realise?
Because assaulting a high-ranked fae and attracting the Horsemen's unwanted attention is a hell of a thing to do for a girl.
14
La Fee Verte didn’t offer the escape I wanted—nor the answers.
Dex waits back at the house and Cillian fills him in on our conversation with Ewan and Xander. He doesn’t comment, face inscrutable. Dex can’t avoid them forever. I warned Cillian not to say anything about Bastian, and he either ignored me or gave silent agreement. I didn’t push the issue—I want to forget.
Will Bastian look for me again? What happens if he does tell the Four Horsemen? The Horsemen have their own issues with the fae. They had a shaky relationship with Portia, but we don’t know how closely Logan’s faction ally themselves with Ripley and the demon Order.
Fun times.
I tip the contents of my rucksack onto the small bed in my temporary accommodation and curse when there’s no bottle inside. I’m all out of whisky and I need a drink. Several.
With a huff, I head downstairs with my jacket. The guys talk together in the room I first met Donovan. Probably about me.
"I’m headed out," I say with a wave, as I pass the doorway.
Wow, how fast can three guys jump to their feet? "Where?" asks Cillian.
"Is there a pub near here? Off licence? Well, anywhere that sells alcohol." I pull cash from my pocket and count. "I need to stock up."
Dex crosses his arms. "No."
"Serious? You expect me to believe there’s nowhere to buy alcohol in walking distance?"
"I mean, no, you’re not going. It’s getting dark outside."
Sucking on my teeth, I walk into the room, slowly, and poke him in the chest. "Don’t try telling me what to do, alpha Spot."
Morgan clears his throat to disguise a laugh as Dex’s eyes darken beneath his fringe. "I heard about what happened at La Fee Verte. You’re in danger from two places now. And I told you: I watch out for you."
Bloody hell, Cillian. I throw him a look. "Sorry, Syv. The guys need to know what happened with Bastian in case there are repercussions," he says.
"Are you okay?" puts in Morgan.
"Me? It's your icy friend you need to worry about. Bastian was pissed off."
Dex continues to stare at me. "We need to keep quiet about this or Donovan will be pissed off."
"Do you hide much from him, Dex? He doesn't know you're a shifter, does he?"
"He knows I'm a Dweller, that's all." He takes my arm and walks to the door. "Yes, there are places to intoxicate yourself nearby. I’ll take you."
Nice deflection, Spot.
The place they take me is too fancy for my liking, but it’s closest. Bright light bounces from the shiny metal stools and tables and I crane my head to look upwards.
"Oh! Dance floor upstairs."
Morgan blinks at me. "You like dancing?"
"Don’t you?"
"If he’s drunk enough," Cillian says and then sips the whisky I bought him. "The guy unwinds sometimes."
I nod and drain the contents of my glass. "Cool. Maybe we can relax later."
My phone sounds a message alert and my stomach lurches as I grab it. I hope this is Col. I texted him earlier and am waiting like a schoolgirl for him to return my call.
Nothing. Unknown number to my voicemail. I’ll check later. I place the phone back down.
"Who are you waiting to hear from?" asks Cillian.
"Just the Horsemen," I lie. "Y’know, since I’m a fangirl."
"I doubt they’ve found any info to help yet," he replies.
"Do you think the Horsemen will be able to help?" asks Morgan. "They didn’t seem keen."
"I’m sure they will."
"Yeah, but doesn’t it suit them if there’s something wiping out the demon population?" asks Dex. "Save them a job."
"The guys aren’t that short-sighted. If there’s a bigger picture behind this, they’ll want to figure things out." I pause. "Such as why me, and why the interest in the boxes."
"She’s right," says Cillian. "They weren’t friendly, but I don’t think they’re likely to hurt us."
Dex snorts. "Uh huh."
I rap on the table with my fingertips. "I think it’s time you told me more about this box. Why’s it so popular?"
"We told you, there’s something dangerous inside."
"What?" I repeat. "You’re too vague."
"Nobody is sure," puts in Morgan sharply, and when he glances at his friends there’s no way I believe him. "There are seven we need to find, and each contains powerful magic in some form."
"Seven?" I straighten. "You never told me that."
Cillian waves a hand. "It’s bad enough getting you to agree to help with one. If we told you we needed help with seven we thought you’d run."
"Yes, but that’s seven times the cash." I pat my banknote-filled pocket.
"And seven times the danger," adds Dex.
"We’re not a hundred percent sure there are seven, though," puts in Morgan. "Donovan says there is, and that they must be found."
"Well, the box can’t contain anything strongly magical. I didn’t sense anything when I held it."
"Syv!" I jump at Morgan's sudden shout. "You opened the box?"
"The cardboard box it was in, yes."
"And the box inside th
e box?" Morgan’s eyes widen with each word. "Please tell me you didn’t open that."
"The black one? No. Why?"
"What size was the box inside?" demands Morgan. "Tell me. Why didn't you mention this?"
"Whoa, dude. Calm your tits. Nobody asked. I dunno. Maybe this big." I hold my hands about ten inches apart on the table.
Morgan sinks back and Cillian places a hand on his arm. "This is good news. Maybe the box is still sealed?"
"Was it heavy?" continues Morgan.
"The box overall wasn't that heavy, no. There was packaging around it."
Dex chews a nail and looks between the two. "Do you know what they're talking about?" I ask him. He peers at me through his fringe and shrugs.
I turn back to the other two. "Right. Painfully obvious question here, but what's in the box? I can tell you’re lying about not knowing."
"Another box."
I roll my eyes upwards at Morgan's reply. "And in that one? Another? Like Russian dolls?"
Morgan squeezes his hands into and out of fists. The uptight guy jumped another ten notches on his tense-o-meter.
"Morgan," Cillian says quietly. "Tell her."
He remains silent. I take a large swig to empty my glass and am interrupted by his next two words.
"My brother."
The liquid hits my throat just as the surprise does my head. The spirit spurts across the table, hitting Morgan's hands. I wipe my face with a sleeve as Morgan doesn't move. "Excuse me? Your brother is in a small box?" Scenarios run through my head. "Did someone steal his magic ashes?"
"No."
Worse ideas. Omigod. "Parts of him?" I half-whisper.
Morgan scowls. "No. All of him."
Don’t laugh, please don't laugh. But I'm picturing a tiny man. Like the kids’ books. TV shows.
Resting his elbows in the spluttered drink, Morgan holds his fingers against both temples. "He’s djinn."
"Gin?" My brain catches up. "Oh! A genie? Like one that grants wishes."
Honestly, the look Morgan gives me cuts deeper than my keenest dagger. "No. Like one who's been trapped in a fucking box for a hundred years."
