Cruel Fate

by Kelley Armstrong

  “I’m sorry I’m late,” he said. “I was delayed in court.” He looked at our table for two and chuckled again, more theater from a man who rarely even smiled in public. “And I see you’d given up on me. It seems unlikely we’ll get another table. I’ll dine elsewhere.” A pause. “Unless you’d both care to join me?”

  Gabriel was not late. He hadn’t been coming to lunch with us. I’d asked whether he wanted to, but he’d demurred, saying this meal should be for Todd and me. I realized now that only meant he wasn’t going to sit with us, not that he wouldn’t be close by, making sure everything went as I hoped, leaping in when it didn’t…as he’d expected.

  Now he was offering an escape hatch. He knew that I, personally, wouldn’t have let this guy spoil my lunch. Two years ago, Todd and Pamela had come back into my life, after I’d long forgotten them, forgotten I’d even been adopted. They’d returned in spectacular fashion, with a reporter outing me as the socialite daughter of serial killers. Then I went to work for the infamous Gabriel Walsh while dating a biker, and, Oh, wait, now she’s with the lawyer. I’d done my time as a media bright-and-shiny. That meant this was not the first time—or the dozenth—that some asshole interrupted a meal to tell me what he really thought. I could be having the worst meal ever, the food barely edible, and I’d glue my ass to that chair and refuse to satisfy a tormentor by walking out.

  But this was about Todd. Todd wasn’t me, and he wasn’t Gabriel, and he wasn’t Pamela. He did not feel the need to grit his teeth and enjoy this meal in spite of himself.

  “Sorry,” I said as I rose. “They didn’t have the table I reserved, and I thought you weren’t able to join us. But since you are…”

  I took his arm, and his lips twitched at that, as surprised as I’d been at his kiss of welcome. He nodded to Todd, telling him we’d follow him out. As we approached the front door, Gabriel cleared his throat.

  “I’m parked around back,” he said, and I glanced at the door, knowing what he really meant. Sure enough, two guys hovered at the entrance, cell phones in hand.

  “Damn, that was fast,” I murmured. “Okay, out the back, but I need to pay—”

  “Done.” He motioned toward the rear hall. “I left my credit card number in case you decided to cut the meal short.”

  As we walked into the rear hall, a young guy appeared from the kitchen, bag in hand. Gabriel took it with only a nod of acknowledgment, leaving me to say thanks.

  “Lunch to go?” I said.

  He nodded. “Again, in case…” He cleared his throat. “In case it was required.”

  We stepped out a door clearly marked No Exit, which led to a tiny parking lot where Gabriel had double-parked his Jag.

  “My car’s in the valet lot,” I said.

  “I know. However, your vehicle is not exactly unobtrusive. Take mine.”

  I nodded. The Jag opened as I tugged the handle.

  He tucked the takeout into the back. “I need to run an errand, but I’ll be home as soon as I can. I’m taking the afternoon off.”

  I squeezed his arm. “Thank you.”

  “You’re very welcome.”

  As we drove through the city, Todd said, “When I was your age, I’d have died for a ride in that sports car of yours. Maybe I’m just showing my age, but this?” He put the seat back, eyes closing as he sank into the leather of Gabriel’s Jag. “This is my new idea of a dream car.” He peeked over at the speedometer. “I see it doesn’t have any problem with power, either.”

  I smiled. “This can outrun my Maserati with a much smoother ride and better handling. The advantage of modern automotive technology.”

  “It looks new, too.”

  “About eighteen months old. It’s a replacement for one I wrecked.”

  His brows lifted.

  “We went down an embankment,” I said. “Rolled down.”

  His gaze shot to the speedometer again.

  “No,” I said, “I wasn’t driving too fast or taking a corner too sharp. Someone tried to kill us. It happens.”

  “I…see.”

  “It hasn’t happened in a while, but make sure you wear your seatbelt just in case. And this model is awesome for rollovers. Lots of air bags. It’s not a problem. Kind of fun. Inconvenient, though, replacing the car. Well, inconvenient for Gabriel.”

  He chuckled and shook his head.

  My hands tightened on the wheel as I said, as lightly as possible, “So lunch was a bust.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t expect that, and I should have.”

  “You wanted to give me a special first meal. Now I have it.” He hooked his thumb at the takeout bag. “And I won’t need to wear a suit coat to eat it.”

  He smiled, but I felt the unintended prick of those words. I’d miscalculated. Badly.

  “Do you want to go someplace else?” I said. “Not to eat, but maybe shopping? I have clothing and necessities for you at the house, but I’m sure there are other things—”

  “What you have will be fine. I’ll probably stay in for a few days and acclimatize.”

  “We can visit in town. Gabriel’s aunt, Rose, would love to see you. Others, too. We can visit, or they can come by. Maybe I’ll throw a dinner party.”

  He spoke with care. “I would love that in a few days, Liv, but for now, I just need a little time.”

  I understood what he was saying, but my heart still sank. He was finally out of prison, and now what did he want? Another set of four walls.

  “Although,” he said, “there is one place I’d like to go when you have time.”

  “Yes?” I said, a little too eagerly.

  “I’d love to just go for a walk. A forest hike would be great, but even a stroll in the countryside would do. I’ve missed that.”

  “There’s a good trail between here and Cainsville,” I said. “We could go for a hike now. Or later, if you’d prefer.”

  “If it’s on the way, now would be great.”

  Two

  Olivia

  Todd may have suggested a hike to please me, but as soon as I pulled over at the unmarked trailhead, his eyes lit up. He was out of the car before I put it into park.

  “Is it okay leaving Gabriel’s car here?” he asked as he looked along the dirt road.

  “It isn’t a formal trail.”

  “Which is why I’m asking. I’m not even sure he’d appreciate you taking it down that gravel road.”

  “To Gabriel, an expensive car is merely a symbol of his success,” I said as we walked into the woods. “That’s not to say he doesn’t enjoy it—if you think I drive too fast, don’t ever ride with him. The car is an object, though. Repairable. Replaceable.”

  “Huh.”

  “Weird, I know. I’d never bring my car back here.”

  He smiled, and as we walked, his gait smoothed, strides lengthening, chin rising. At home in his surroundings. Comfortable in a way he wasn’t in the city. This was his natural habitat, the one his blood called for.

  Cwˆn Annwn blood. The Wild Hunt was a branch of Welsh fae, though they’d broken off so long ago that they considered themselves a separate race. The true difference lay in their purpose. The Cwˆn Annwn hunted murderers who’d escaped justice. Killers must have at least a trickle of fae blood in their veins to warrant the Hunt’s justice. Even today, the Cwˆn Annwn hunted in forests, which was why Todd felt the pull of the woods, as I did to a lesser extent. My own blood is both Cwˆn Annwn and fae, the latter from my mother’s side.

  Seeing Todd stride into the forest reminded me that the local Cwˆn Annwn wanted to speak to him. Their leader—Ioan—had brokered the original deal with my mother, and the Huntsmen had watched over Todd in prison. Ioan wanted to give Todd the opportunity to learn more about his heritage if he was interested.

  I wasn’t sure how Todd would feel about that. He would want to see Ricky, of course. Ricky Gallagher. My former lover. Current friend. Satan’s Saints biker. Future gang leader. And, together with
me, Ricky led the Hunt, in his role as an embodiment of Arawn, Lord of the Otherworld.

  Ricky had been called off to Miami on business for his father. I hadn’t told Todd that. I knew they were looking forward to seeing each other. I could suggest dinner next week with both Ioan and Ricky, but I bit my tongue. I’d already overwhelmed Todd with all the things I wanted to do, all the people who wanted to see him.

  Let him breathe. Let him be.

  When the path thinned, I hung back to let Todd get ahead as I resisted the urge to chatter like a hyperactive tour guide. Instead, I gave that tour in my head.

  Oh, there’s a cliff over there with a great view. Can you hear the river? At this time of year, it runs so strong I swear I can hear it in Cainsville. Hey, there’s a butterfly and—

  Todd stopped so short that I nearly crashed into him.

  His head turned in a motion that reminded me of Ricky. A slow and deliberate swivel, tracking a sound as his eyes narrowed. A hunter’s response. A predator’s.

  I didn’t ask whether he’d seen or heard something. I knew he had. Or, like Ricky, it wasn’t even so much hearing or seeing as sensing.

  I followed Todd’s gaze and saw trees. Yep, lots of trees. It was midafternoon with the sun hiding behind cloud cover that forecast April showers. Though, this deep in the forest, the trees alone blocked out enough light to send us into near dusk. I squinted into the shadows. Then I glanced at Todd. He wasn’t squinting. He didn’t need to. If I inherited any Cwˆn Annwn night vision, it wasn’t enough to be noticeable. His was, and he watched the forest intently.

  Then he rolled his shoulders. Grunted softly. And my father returned in a quick and easy smile.

  “Jumpy,” he said. “I’ll be like that for a while, so ignore it. Gotta adjust to a life where no one lurks around every corner, waiting to…”

  He caught my expression and reached out to squeeze my shoulder. “Sorry, sweetheart. I shouldn’t joke like that in front of you. I was fine in prison. Whatever you see on TV, it wasn’t like that for me. It isn’t like that for most guys, but I had it even easier. Ioan made sure of that. I had Keating’s protection from the start, and I have a knack for getting myself out of trouble before it comes to blows. Even when it does…” He shrugged. “I was in decent shape when I went in, and I got better. Guys didn’t really bother me. Not the guards and not the inmates.”

  To some extent, that would have been true. He’d had Keating, his Huntsman protector who’d infiltrated the guards. He’d also had his Cwˆn Annwn charm, that quick smile and an aura of peace and infectious calm. Still, I knew he was downplaying his situation for me. Downplaying it a lot. He’d gone into prison when he’d been younger than me, a slightly built, good-looking young man. Also a convicted serial killer. I would like to think that the two things played off one another—that predators would back off when they heard what he was in for. My fear, though, was that the combination had compounded, and he’d had to deal with both the felons who thought him a very pretty boy and those who used his serial killer status as an excuse to go after him, a justifiable target for their rage.

  “Liv?” he said. When I didn’t respond, his voice firmed, and he said, “Eden?”

  My old name got my attention, as always. He took hold of my chin and turned my gaze to his.

  “I am fine,” he said. “I can look after myself. It might not seem like it sometimes, but I can. If you ever doubt that, have Gabriel show you my early prison record. I held my own, and after a while, no one bothered me. I figured out how to play the game. I was fine.”

  I nodded. As he eased back, something caught his attention again. He shifted into that other Todd, and in seeing it, I took comfort. He could look after himself. He wasn’t a child. Wasn’t a lamb lost among the wolves.

  I knew that for a fact. One of my own gifts is the ability to access memories. If I make physical contact while someone is actively recalling an event, I might tumble into that memory myself and experience it as they do. So I had seen what Todd did in a forest not unlike this one. He’d summoned the Cwˆn Annwn by murdering a serial killer they could not catch. When Todd had seen what the man did, I’d felt my father’s rage, and I knew he had a capacity for violence. A deep capacity. He just had no stomach for it. No craving, either.

  This time, when Todd looked around, I inched forward and whispered, “You sense something?”

  His nose crinkled in a way I knew well from Gabriel or Ricky or even myself when it came to any mention of our fae “gifts.” We are uncomfortable with the idea that we have any sort of special power, as if we’re laying claim to the kinds of abilities that belong in comic books.

  “I thought I saw someone.” He corrected that to, “Something,” and then added, “Probably just an animal.”

  “You said someone.”

  That face again. “I don’t know. It’s gone now, whatever it was. Could have been a fellow hiker.”

  “We should still be careful.”

  “No one followed us, Liv. I checked. So did you. I saw you looking. Nobody realized we switched cars, so that isn’t a journalist lurking in the forest. Even if it is, well, then he gets a lovely photo of me hiking.”

  “I—”

  “There’s no one here, Liv.” He waved his arm at the forest. “Just my overactive imagination. Like I said, it’ll take a while for me to get used to this.” He slapped my back. “Let’s go home. I’ve worked up an appetite, and that steak dinner is calling.”

  I lived in Cainsville, a very old, very insular town outside Chicago. Founded by Welsh fae—the Tylwyth Teg—fleeing the Old World. They’d built it as a refuge for themselves and their human descendants. I’d guess at least three-quarters of the residents have fae blood. To them, though, it’s just a lovely little town where they grew up. The kind of sleepy, old-fashioned village that most kids can’t wait to escape, and then find themselves coming back to when they want to raise children of their own.

  While my mother’s family came from Cainsville, she didn’t grow up there. I had only very distant family in town. Gabriel had more. His mother, Seanna, was in long-term care there, and the less said about her, the better. Gabriel’s father, Patrick, was one of the fae. The relative he was close to was his great-aunt Rose, who lived around the corner from us.

  When I pulled into the driveway, Todd whistled as he saw my place, a Queen Anne on an oversized lot, a picture-perfect house on a picture-perfect street.

  “Now that’s a house,” Todd said. “You said it belonged to Pam’s great-grandmother?”

  I nodded. “Mom used to come here as a child. It’s been empty for years. The elders sold it to me at a very reasonable price. A bribe for staying in Cainsville.”

  Todd got out and gazed up at the house. “I remember when Pam and I first looked for a place. She was pregnant, and I wanted something like this. Smaller, of course. And in much worse shape. A fixer-upper project for me. She wanted a modern home. Less work, she said, which is true, but when I said I didn’t mind the work, she put her foot down. No old houses for us. I got the feeling they brought back…”

  He looked up and down my street. “I was going to say bad memories, but I remember her talking about her great-grandmother, and those certainly didn’t seem like bad memories.”

  “It’s the town. She hated it here.” I paused. “The fae.”

  He nodded in understanding. My mother’s “gift” was the ability to see through glamours. To recognize fae. That might seem like a wondrous thing for a child, being able to see magic in the world. It wasn’t, because she knew nothing of magic or fae. She only knew that she saw people who were not really people, and something in her gut said this was bad; they were dangerous; they were wrong. A survival instinct. Fae are not good fairies, here to help humankind. They aren’t here to murder us all, either. They just don’t really give a damn, and if we stand between them and a goal, they have little compunction about ending us.

  As we headed for the front porch, the dark clouds finally made good
on their threat, erupting in a sudden downpour that set us running. Gabriel pulled open the door before we reached it.

  Once inside, Gabriel took the takeout bag with a murmur that he’d warm lunch while I showed my father around. The main floor tour was quick. Kitchen, dining room, parlor and a small room that we’d turned into a library.

  I called it “my” house only out of habit. While Gabriel still had his condo in the city, we flowed between them, depending on our schedule. We also had a lakefront cottage that Gabriel got, so we’d have a place that was truly “ours.” Because clearly, if dual residences were awkward, the solution was to buy a third. Problems of the young and wealthy.

  Upstairs there were four bedrooms. Ours was the front corner one with the half gable. The other front bedroom used to be Gabriel’s when he’d sleep over before we got together. After we became a couple, we reconfigured the upper level, because, well, we don’t necessarily want guests sleeping right beside us, not with these thin, old walls. We’d converted Gabriel’s old room into our en suite bathroom and dressing area. The guest room became the one that didn’t share any walls with ours. The fourth bedroom was an office.

  By the time I showed Todd his room, Gabriel had reheated dinner. We ate with small talk, comfortable enough. Afterward, Todd insisted on helping tidy, but then he wanted to retire to his room.

  “I’ll take some time to settle in,” he said. “I’ll probably go to bed early, too.”

  “Are you sure?” I said. “We could—”

  A look from Gabriel stopped me.

  “All right,” I said. “If you change your mind, we’re here. A movie, a board game, a drink…”

  “I’ll be fine,” he said. “You guys enjoy your evening. I’ve got that new cell phone to figure out. Maybe I’ll spend some time with the instructions guide.”

  “That’d be online,” I said. “But I can download—”

  He waved for me to stay where I was. “I’m probably too tired to tackle reading tonight, anyway.” He paused. “Did I see a tub in the main bathroom?”