by K. J. Sutton
“Yes.” I didn’t hesitate or say it gently. Gwyn didn’t deserve my sympathy.
The huntress didn’t seem to be seeking it. Her eyes were distant, the sign of someone whose mind was in the past. “She was my best friend, once,” she said. “I wanted it to be more, but Naevys was in love with that fool Sylvyre. Shortly after she rejected me, I met Creiddylad. I was so happy with her. It made me seek peace between me and Naevys. She betrayed me instead, by stealing my love and hiding her away.”
The huntress paused, probably waiting for a response. I looked at her with unveiled contempt. I’d read about this in one of Kindreth’s journals. “I think you’re forgetting the part where you went on a murderous rampage and the fae had to stop you. Naevys felt responsible for those deaths—that’s why she contributed her blood for the spell to seal the tomb. It was her atonement.”
I knew a thing or two about atonement.
Once again, Gwyn cocked her head and searched my face, as if it were a puzzle and she was trying to figure out where the pieces went. “For what it’s worth, I didn’t enjoy killing you as much as I thought I would,” she remarked.
Something about the way she said it made me believe her. Proving once again that I’d spent too much time with the fae, my mind immediately leapt to think of how I could use her regret. Play off any guilt she might feel. Casually I said, “Well, I know a way you can make it up to me.”
An amused smile hovered about Gwyn’s lips. “You have my attention.”
She waited for me to go on, but I hesitated. If I voiced the question hovering at the back of my head, was I putting a friend in danger? Did I truly need to know more about him?
An image rose in my mind. The barn sitting on Cyrus’s lawn, charred and abandoned. Nothing more than a painful memory fast fading into nothing. I thought of Cyrus’s terror every time he saw a flame larger than his burners. Yes, I decided. I needed to know more. Not only to protect my family, but Cyrus himself.
Finally I said, “Tell me what you know of dragons.”
“Your little town is becoming more fascinating by the second.” Gwyn didn’t try to hide the surprise in her eyes. Her expression became speculative and she began to circle me, exactly as she had the night we met. “It’s been centuries since I’ve encountered a dragon—I thought they’d died out. Their species was feared even more than Nightmares. Like your kind, they were hunted. Not for their scales, though there’s value in them, too, but for their abilities. Dragons were a threat to all Fallen.”
I frowned at the last part. A threat. I wanted to see her face as she spoke, but I resisted the urge to move. It would feel too much like an admission of fear. By keeping my back turned, I was telling Gwyn that I wasn’t worried about not being able to see her. “Why? Just because they could breathe fire?” I asked.
She stopped in front of me. Her hands were folded behind her back, and there was some space between us. Usually, she stood so close that our breath intermingled in the air. She was making a notable effort not to appear intimidating, I thought. “No, darling,” Gwyn said, her dark eyes unexpectedly solemn. “Because their fire burns away our immortality.”
Ice crept over my heart. Holy shit. My mind raced at the ramifications. If anyone in the supernatural world were to learn of Cyrus, he’d be dead faster than I could utter a single scream. He was Fallenkind’s nuclear bomb. He was an end to the way of life as we knew it. There were some who believed none of the species should exist—radicals, they liked to think of themselves. If they caught wind there was a weapon to render us human, they’d do more than talk. Then there were the Fallen hunters. I didn’t want to imagine the possibility of them obtaining a dragon.
I forced myself to calm. Cyrus had no family left, and those he called friends would lay down their lives for him. There was no one to expose him and his secret would remain hidden with those who did know. He was safe…
The thought dangled in my mind, unfinished, when I remembered that someone did know. Dracula. He was the one who’d told me about Cyrus, for chrissakes.
I was about to curse when Gwyn added, “Ride with me, Fortuna Sworn.”
There was something in her voice that caught my attention—a note of sincerity I hadn’t heard her use before. I met her star-bright gaze, this beautiful, ferocious creature of legend, and I couldn’t deny that I was tempted. Tempted by her and the thought of experiencing such magic every day. The ends of her hair lifted in a breeze, long and feathery, carrying the impossible scents of moonlight and exotic places.
But, eventually, I shook my head. “There are still things I want to do here,” I told her softly.
The huntress sighed and stepped back. “I suspected as much. Can’t blame me for trying, of course.”
“Goodbye, Gwyn.” I met her gaze squarely, and even now, looking at her sent a quake of fear through me. It was instinctive, the natural impulse of any creature standing before death itself. Gwyn’s nostrils flared. She moved past me and, before I could turn, whispered into my ear.
“You smell like him. I never really stood a chance, did I?” She nipped the back of my neck and chuckled when I shivered. “Come find me when you get bored, my queen. A creature like you won’t be sustained by his type for long.”
The jab at Collith made some of my regret fade. Still facing forward, I raised my eyebrows and countered, “Want to bet?”
“I shall go against my very nature to spare you from making yet another disastrous bargain. Consider it my parting gift.” There was another smile in the faerie’s voice.
I opened my mouth to respond, but apparently Gwyn wasn’t one for goodbyes. Between one blink and the next, she was gone, my hair stirring in a whisper of air. I stared through the trees, snowflakes drifting from a swiftly darkening sky.
For the first time in weeks, the night felt… serene. Kind. Safe. Like it used to. Smiling faintly, I bowed my head and watched my feet crunch over a thin layer of snow. I started in the direction that would take me back home. Back to my family.
Back to Collith.
Chapter Twenty-One
No time like the present. That had been one of my mother’s favorite phrases.
Instead of going inside, where it was warm, I sat on the porch steps and waited. Truth be told, I had almost reached my room—and the warm bed I was sharing with Collith—when Mom’s words popped into my head. No time like the present.
My final conversation with Gwyn wouldn’t leave me alone. Cyrus might be in danger, and I couldn’t let myself rest until everyone I loved was safe.
I sent a brief text to the phone number Dracula had given me, then prepared to wait. Every few seconds, I glanced down at the screen. My weapons were a solid weight against me. I touched one of them every time I realized I’d summoned an ancient vampire to my home. But I didn’t contact Lyari or Finn for backup; no one else I cared about was dying this week. I’d handle this without endangering them more than I already had.
I wasn’t sure how I expected Dracula to arrive. In the form of a bat, if Hollywood had gotten anything right. Or maybe on horseback, riding a dark stallion with as much grace and deadliness he possessed in ancient wars and bloody battles.
I didn’t expect him to arrive in a parade of black SUVs.
The air filled with the sound of running engines. I stood up and watched as the doors opened and a host of vampires gathered on the driveway—thank God Cyrus and Emma were gone, and the others were probably in their rooms. Dracula came forward, wearing a bomber jacket and leather boots. He looked, I thought reluctantly, ridiculously hot.
“Queen Fortuna. Why have you requested this meeting?”
I’d already thought about how I would answer. I couldn’t very well tell him that I needed to kill him. “I’ve been thinking about your offer,” I said.
Dracula leaned close. I couldn’t tell if he was smelling my blood or listening to my heartbeat, but both possibilities set me on edge. “Why are you lying, Your Majesty?” the vampire whispered.
He stood
close enough that, if I moved fast, I could drive my knife through his heart. It had been soaked in holy water a few days ago. This could be my only chance, I thought. The thought should’ve revived the adrenaline in my veins, but I was standing on that blue mat in Adam’s garage, learning beneath his stern tutelage. There was no room for emotions or fear when I was facing an opponent.
And yet, as always, Collith’s voice found a way to reach me. Choose mercy, Fortuna.
I remembered that burst of pain when he died. That slow dawning of horror and self-loathing when I realized I was responsible for it. No, I told myself. Dracula was not a victim. He was a threat to someone I cared about.
Then why couldn’t I take out my knife and plunge it into his heart?
I watched the window of opportunity close as Dracula moved back. I couldn’t do it, not even for Cyrus. Resignation burrowed in my stomach, making it feel heavy. “How much would it take for you to tell no one about the dragon living in Granby?” I asked wearily, trying to remember how much I had in my bank account.
There was a pause. Then Dracula said, “What dragon? The only person of interest I met during my time in America was a young queen. The sort of creature who didn’t kill me when my back was turned, which is rare, indeed.”
The words were thick with meaning, and I realized Dracula had known exactly why I’d texted him, lured him here. He’d even provided me the opportunity to do it by pretending to be distracted. It had been a test. What if I’d failed?
Choosing mercy had probably saved my life.
I couldn’t tell Collith he’d been right, for once, or he would get a big head. Tucking these thoughts away, for now, I raised my eyebrows at Dracula. “If you’re surprised by someone not stabbing you in the back, you need new friends.”
“Perhaps you’re right. Also, I did make inquiries regarding your ancestry.” Here Dracula paused for my reaction, probably expecting some kind of excitement or hope. After another moment, the vampire continued. “Most of what my contacts know about Nightmares comes from stories that have been passed down. But there was one who said he’d be willing to speak with you—he was married to a Nightmare, many years ago, before she was killed.”
Before I could ask for more information, he slipped a card from his pocket and held it out to me. A name and a phone number were written in an elegant hand. Jacob Goldmann. I didn’t recognize the area code. I raised my gaze back to Dracula’s.
“Thank you,” I said, giving myself no time to hesitate over the words. The only way to stop myself from becoming a faerie was to do everything they wouldn’t, like expressing gratitude to someone when they’d done you a kindness. A kindness I hadn’t expected to find in the world’s most darkly infamous vampire.
Maybe this thought showed in my expression, because as the seconds ticked by, Dracula’s demeanor shifted. He stared down at me with a hunger in his eyes that I knew all-too well. “I’ve half a mind to make you my wife.”
I gave him a sad smile. “You don’t love me, Mr. Okafor. You just want my power.”
Amusement shone from the vampire’s eyes now. He extended his hand and remarked, “Love. Power. What’s the difference?”
Since we’d already touched, I took it. His skin was overly warm, a reminder of the choice he’d made all those years ago on a starry battlefield. The flavor of his single greatest fear—to fail at the purpose he’d found for his immortal life—coated my tongue. Dirt. It tasted like dirt, as if he’d crawled out of a grave and now his veins were full of it. “Hundreds of years on this planet and you still have so much to learn. Goodbye, Dracula,” I said, taking my hand back.
“Until next time, Your Majesty.” The vampire said it as if he truly thought there would be a next time. With another bow, he turned and strode back to his army of supernatural soldiers. By some unspoken signal, they all blurred into motion, and suddenly everyone was sitting in the vehicles. Showoffs.
There was the roaring sound of a half dozen engines coming to life. The night flooded with headlights. I watched the fleet of SUVs drive into the darkness, off to visit other parts of the world where mischievous fallen angels needed to be fought. The red taillights faded, winking out like a dying fire.
As I turned away, I couldn’t help but hope there would never be a next time.
A knock echoed through the house.
My eyes snapped open, and my first thought was that Gwyn had returned. But the huntress’s goodbye had felt final. I sat up and frowned at Collith, wondering why he hadn’t stirred. It was almost seven a.m. His bare chest rose and fell steadily. His eyes moved beneath his eyelids. He was the picture of someone in a pleasant dream, and I was loath to disturb him, especially knowing he might wake soon from nightmares, anyway.
But I wasn’t a teenager in a horror movie. No, I was queen to things that go bump in the night, and I wasn’t about to open that door without backup. Not again, at least. I liked to learn from my mistakes.
“Collith,” I whispered, touching his shoulder. He didn’t react. I grasped Collith’s arm and gave him a none-too-gentle shake. “Hey, wake up. There’s someone outside.”
Still, the faerie king didn’t open his eyes. Fear whispered down my spine as I realized he’d either been drugged or bespelled—there was nothing normal about how hard he was sleeping. When panic threatened to grab me by the throat, I reminded myself Finn would be waiting. It simply wasn’t possible for a wolf to sleep through that knocking.
Despite a sense of urgency in the air, my gaze lingered on Collith. Seeing him like this was a reminder of the endless night I’d sat in the kitchen, by his side, waiting for his return. Terrified that we’d had our last conversation and even more petrified to think about why it mattered so much.
Gritting my teeth against the memory, I left the warm bed and opened the top drawer of the nightstand. My Glock rested on a bible that had been here when we moved in. It was one of many hints, throughout the house, that Cyrus was a religious person. I wasn’t sure why it surprised me, the first time I saw the wooden cross hanging in his room. He was certainly more private than I’d thought—in all the years we’d worked together, Cyrus had never once mentioned his beliefs.
I was trying to distract myself, and it worked until another knock fractured the stillness. I jumped, swore under my breath, and snatched up the gun. When I turned, my gaze flicked to the window, drawn to the faint light pouring through. It occurred to me that I could get a Guardian’s attention—there had to be one of two lurking in the trees. Hell, I could call for Lyari, too. I muttered her name as I rushed across the room. “Lyari, Lyari, Lyari…”
The world was painted in shades of gray. Pressing my fingers against the frosty glass, I searched the yard and beyond. Nothing moved in the shadows or trees. Maybe if I could look through the screen instead… I tried to undo the latch. It wouldn’t budge. I gritted my teeth and tried again, putting more strength into it, but the piece of plastic held fast. This time, a trickle of panic broke through, and I almost slapped the glass. It would draw the attention of whatever else was out there, though. Where was Lyari?
If she couldn’t hear me, Laurie probably couldn’t, either.
My heart hammered as I whirled around and flew to the door. The instant I opened it, I saw Finn’s furry body blocking the way. I nudged him with my foot, stupidly hoping I was wrong about the unnatural sleep, but he didn’t move. It confirmed whoever was waiting outside wasn’t a friend—friends didn’t put friends into comas. I briefly considered checking on the others, but if they weren’t in the same condition, I’d run out of people I was willing to endanger. At least faeries and werewolves could heal from most injuries.
What about Cyrus? a voice asked from the back of my head. I didn’t acknowledge the small, vicious thought. Cyrus avoided conflict of any kind, and whatever his abilities, dragging him into a supernatural fight would be catastrophic. I wouldn’t do that to him just to protect myself.
Calling the police was out of the question—it was an instinct that ran d
eeper than bone for every Fallen creature. Protect the secret. Protect ourselves. Humans could never know about our existence, or we’d share the same fate as the dinosaurs. An extinct species. Too big, too powerful for the world we’d found ourselves in.
Not to mention there was a band of supernatural warriors, led by the world’s deadliest vampire, who would kill to make sure that didn’t happen.
I was on my own.
Breathing raggedly, I crept down the hall. Shadows quivered everywhere I looked, each one a potential threat. I didn’t see anyone through the wide window overlooking the yard, but that didn’t mean much—if my visitor was standing directly in front of the door, they’d be out of sight. I hugged the wall and instinctively avoided the floorboards that would emit those telltale creaks. It took a full minute to reach the entryway.
Once I’d put on the closest pair of shoes—they were so big, they had to be Finn’s—I raised the Glock. My fingers trembled as I rocked the slide back to check the chamber, making sure the round was loaded and ready to go. In the next breath, without giving myself a chance to hesitate, I opened the door and pointed the gun.
Mercy Wardwell stood on the front porch.
“My apologies for the dramatics,” she said, lowering the hood of her coat. I blinked at her in shock. “I wanted to speak with you privately. Don’t worry, your loved ones are all right. It’s only temporary.”
Normally, my mind would go alive with rage or suspicion. This woman had put a spell on my entire family and, if Lyari’s continuing absence was any indication, on the house itself. But Mercy must’ve performed several spells before she came today, because the sight of her had a calming effect. I lowered the gun and studied her. This is a person I can trust, I thought.
It didn’t feel like my own.
It was a good thing I had learned not to act on every emotion or whim—instead of inviting her inside, I thought of the vulnerable people around us, trapped in an enchanted sleep and unable to defend themselves.
