The Phoenix Charm

by Helen Scott Taylor

  “Nightshade.”

  He paused and looked back at her warily. She unhooked her cat bag from her shoulder and, with a flash of trepidation, held her precious cat out to him. He frowned. “You take Tamsy. Keep your hand on her body during the crossing. Through her I’ll feel if you’re in trouble.” His breath hissed out in what sounded like relief. With a nod, he grabbed the bag and hung the strap over his shoulder. Tamsy poked her head out and mewed at Cordelia. “It’s all right, sweetheart. Be a good girl and stay safely inside.”

  “What time is it here?” Michael asked as he stepped into the boat. The elderly Teg boatman stared straight ahead without answering.

  “The Tylwyth Teg could do with a course in manners,” Cordelia whispered to Thorn as they approached the boat.

  Nightshade sat beside Michael while Cordelia took the bench opposite them, with Thorn at her side. When they were all seated, the boatman braced an oar against the rocks and pushed the boat free of the gravel.

  Cordelia gripped Thorn’s hand. “You keep hold of me until we reach the other side. No matter what happens, don’t let go.” His chest rose and fell rapidly, his palm damp in her grip. She squeezed his hand, her heart pinching at the hint of panic in his eyes.

  “What do you want me to do, lass?”

  “Michael.” Cordelia had to swallow before she could continue. “You need to focus on something to resist the Siren. Hold my other hand.” Her insides quivered as his hand slid around hers, engulfing it. The allure undulated through her body, warm and slow, contained within her wards. She prayed her fear for their safety would damp down her response to him. “Look into my eyes. Whatever happens, don’t look away. Concentrate completely on me, and I’ll concentrate on you.”

  She steeled herself. Focused on the dark points of Michael’s pupils, she tried to hold his attention yet still keep her distance. Impossible.

  “I have a little idea how to help us hold our focus,” Michael whispered, a smile in his voice. Before she could comment, the deep blue of his eyes drew her in, the tempting depths closing around her like the welcome embrace of warm water.

  She found herself walking through the great hall beneath Trevelion Manor. She tensed, expecting the usual evening crowd, but the hall was deserted. A skitter of surprise raced through her. Before the sensation faded, she’d forgotten why she was surprised. A pale blue, silky dress flowed around her body as she walked. Her loose hair caressed her bare arms. Michael walked beside her, clasping her hand firmly in his. He stopped in the center of the hall, pulled her closer, and held the back of her hand against his chest so she could feel the beat of his heart. His lips curved in a wide seductive grin, his eyes twinkling. Warmth melted through her, pulsing hot in her veins. The warbling lilt of an Irish tin whistle drifted into her consciousness, its tune circling around her head. Michael placed his hand on the small of her back, warm and firm. “Dance with me, lass,” he whispered against her ear.

  There was a reason she shouldn’t let him touch her, but her thoughts slipped from her grasp. His breath against her cheek sent shivers racing across her skin. She rested her hand on his shoulder, and his muscles flexed beneath her grip. The air whispered between her lips in a rush as he drew her closer, pressed his nose to her temple. “You smell of sweet peas.”

  “Michael.” Michael, Michael…She repeated his name, again and again in her head. If she stopped, she might lose him.

  He smiled, stroked the hair back from her face, his fingers gentle against her skin. “Move for me.”

  Her feet followed his small steps as he swayed around in a slow circle.

  “I love the color of your eyes. Sometimes they’re soft as a dove’s wing, sometimes they rage like stormy seas.” He eased her closer, cupped his hand behind her head, and pressed his cheek against her hair. “Ah, Cordelia. This feels good, does it not, lass?”

  His lips brushed her temple. Heat swirled down to her toes, back up to bloom in her cheeks. He touched the side of his nose to hers, his breath on her lips. She tilted her face up, every cell in her body yearning for his kiss.

  A bump on her knees shot pain up her legs. She jerked back from Michael, her pulse jumping.

  “Dee! We’re here, Dee.” Thorn’s strident tone pierced her stupor. He tugged on her hand.

  She blinked at the sight of Thorn kneeling awkwardly in the bottom of the boat beside her, gripping the hand she was resting on Michael’s shoulder.

  “Let me go,” Thorn ground out between clenched teeth.

  Cordelia glanced around, confused. “Have we crossed the lake?”

  Thorn snatched his hand from hers, then leaped out of the boat as if it were on fire. Cordelia’s gaze followed his flight and met Nightshade’s steely look. Only then did reality hit her: the firm warmth of Michael’s arms around her, the herbal fragrance of his hair near her nose. She and Michael were kneeling in the boat, his arms holding her close to his body.

  His fingers flexed against her back. “Looks like your strategy worked, lass.” His lips brushed her temple, smooth as warm silk. Shame and shock tangled inside her. Cordelia pushed back, rocking the boat so violently Nightshade staggered and nearly dropped Tamsy’s bag.

  “It’s easy to resist the Siren when she ignores us,” she snapped.

  “She didn’t,” Nightshade said in an accusing tone.

  “Didn’t what?”

  His nostrils flared impatiently. “Ignore us, woman. The Siren followed us the whole way across. You two were so engrossed I don’t think you even knew where you were.”

  Michael watched Cordelia clamber from the boat, heedless of the water soaking her boots. She ran about ten yards up the shingle beach toward the castle and hugged her arms around her body.

  Nightshade gave Michael a narrow look of disapproval, then stepped out of the boat cautiously, avoiding the water, and went to give the cat back to Cordelia.

  The old Teg boatman ignored them, staring up at a window in the castle tower from which faint strains of music floated into the still air.

  Michael heaved himself off his knees back onto the wooden bench seat and sighed. The pleasurable sensations lingering from the vision he’d shared with Cordelia slipped away. He’d intended to share an innocent visualization with her. But something strange had happened.

  He loved females, was attracted to all types of them: human and fairy. When needed, his control was absolute. But not with Cordelia, it seemed. Inside her prim exterior churned an elemental sensuality bursting for release. He’d thought to entrance her to keep her occupied. Yet he’d been the one entranced. Given another few seconds, he’d have kissed her.

  He slapped his palms on his thighs and stood, furious with himself. This was neither the time nor place for such behavior. Could he not even restrain himself long enough to rescue Finian?

  Thorn stood on his own, staring at the ground with his hands jammed in the pockets of his jeans. Nightshade glared at Michael while Cordelia had her arms wrapped around herself. Michael walked up the pebbles feeling like a prize jerk. He halted a few feet from Cordelia and rubbed a hand over his mouth.

  “I owe you an apology, lass. Don’t know what happened. I thought to distract us with a harmless visualization, but things got out of hand.”

  She sucked on her bottom lip, then looked up at him. “Thank you for being chivalrous, but the fault is mine.”

  He shook his head slowly. “Me lack of control is not your fault.”

  She looked away, a pretty pink coloring her cheeks. Instead of responding to him, she turned toward Thorn. “Sweetheart, come here.”

  The young man slouched closer, kicking the stones. She wrapped an arm around him and pressed her cheek to his. “I’m sorry I embarrassed you. Do you forgive me?”

  Thorn hugged her while Cordelia stroked his hair.

  “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I thought we’d come to speak to Gwyn ap Nudd.” Nightshade wedged his hands on his hips, jaw clenched. When Michael smiled at him, trying to ease the tension between them, Nigh
tshade turned away.

  Michael pinched the tight muscles in the back of his neck. How in the Furies did Niall cope with leading a whole troop of piskies when he could barely cope with three people? He shook his head and turned to the Teg boatman, who was still staring at the castle. “We’ll be needing to speak with Master Devin. W here do we go?” He expected the man to continue ignoring him, but the old Teg raised an arm and pointed to a door set into the wall on the side of the castle. That wasn’t much help as the door was obviously the only way in.

  While Cordelia whispered to Thorn, Michael went to Nightshade. The stalker glared at him as he approached. He wanted to tell his friend to just get over the incident and move on. But that would not ease the bad feelings between them. And he needed Nightshade on his side. “I’m sorry if what happened in the boat made you uncomfortable. Was not me intention.”

  Nightshade’s silver eyes grazed over his face, tracked insolently down his body and back up. His nostrils flared and he hitched up his chin. “When I’m uncomfortable, you’ll know it, bard.”

  Despite his apparent rejection of the apology, the tension in his stance eased. It seemed that was the best Michael could hope for at the moment.

  The crunch of stones behind him signaled that Cordelia and Thorn were ready to move on. Cordelia’s expression appeared composed once more, and Thorn had lost his angry scowl.

  “Time to do what we came for.” After the temporary distraction of the experience in the boat, the reality of their situation crashed back on Michael. His gut churned as he made his way up the stone steps leading to the door into the castle.

  The ancient wooden door was weather bleached, the hinges leaking rusty stains through the wood grain. Michael knocked, then tapped his fingers on his thigh while he waited for someone to answer.

  “Try again.” Cordelia’s voice sounded tentative, as though she’d rather give up and go home.

  He knocked twice more, getting no response. “Typical. We come all this way, and they won’t answer the door.” He’d expected to overcome perils before he gained access to the King of the Underworld’s castle. He hadn’t expected the biggest obstacle to be getting someone to open the blasted door.

  A glance along the walls confirmed his first impression. On this side of the castle, the small curve of shingle beach provided the only solid ground. At each end, the lake lapped against rocks that rose sheer to the castle walls. If they could not enter through this door, they’d have to use the boat to reach the other side.

  That would be a problem because the boat had now disappeared. He heaved a sigh and raised his fist to knock again.

  “Just a moment.” Cordelia stepped up beside him. “Probably a waste of time, but worth a try.” She gripped the metal ring of the door latch and twisted. With a creak, the door swung inward.

  Thorn laughed. Nightshade smiled reluctantly.

  She glanced back, suppressing a triumphant grin.

  “Hang on a minute.” Michael went to the wall and banged his forehead against the granite a couple of times to knock some sense into his head. “Okay. That’s done.” He held out his hand, indicating she should precede him. “Brains before beauty.”

  “I can’t win with that one, can I?”

  “Nah, lass. Neither can I.” He grinned. When she smiled back, heat flared in his groin as he remembered how her body had felt pressed against his in the boat. Prim on the outside, hot on the inside obviously hit his sweet spot.

  As he followed her through the door, a dark-haired woman wearing a stained white apron over a brown dress walked around the corner in front of them. She would have been pretty without the puckered scar running through her eyebrow and across her cheekbone. She pulled up with a shriek and pressed a hand to her mouth. Her eyes flitted between Cordelia and Michael. “Are you human?”

  The hope in her voice made him sorry to disappoint her. “No, lass.”

  She blinked, her curious gaze on Tamsy’s bag. “You look human—or more human than the Teg.”

  “I’m a Cornish pisky,” Cordelia said gently.

  “Oh.” The woman stared at them, then started to back away, her hand trailing along the wall.

  “We’re wanting to find Master Devin,” Michael said, infusing his voice with reassurance.

  Her shoulders dropped as some of the tension left her. “Master Devin isn’t here. I’ll fetch someone else.”

  “Not the Teg.” The hint of panic in Cordelia’s voice made Michael tense, but a flash of understanding crossed the human woman’s face.

  Michael flexed his fingers at his side. He’d considered what to do if Master Devin wasn’t around. He could think of only one alternative. “Where would we find Gwyn ap Nudd?”

  The woman’s eyes flashed wide, and she stepped back. She stared at Michael for long seconds, then pointed an unsteady finger at the ceiling. “The king is to be found in the tower above us.” She jerked her head to the side, indicating the direction from which she’d come. “The staircase is a short way back there.”

  Boots grated on the rough-hewn flagstone passage behind Michael. The woman screamed, a piercing sound so sudden and unexpected that Michael jumped. Wide-eyed, she turned and ran out of sight.

  Michael glanced over his shoulder to see Nightshade standing behind him. “She obviously hasn’t seen a nightstalker before.”

  Nightshade frowned and snapped his wings against his back. “I didn’t even have my wings spread.” He held his arms away from his body and looked down at himself with a frown. “What’s so terrible about me?”

  “Forget it,” Michael said. All that mattered was persuading Gwyn ap Nudd to release Fin. Without Master Devin’s advice, Michael would have to hope his silver tongue worked on the King of the Underworld.

  Chapter Six

  Damn Nightshade for spooking the human before she could be questioned. The woman must have sensed his predatory nature. Living among the Teg, her instinct for self-preservation would be sharp.

  Cordelia followed Michael ten yards along the castle passage to an arched opening on the right where spiral stairs climbed steeply up a tower.

  Michael paused at the foot of the staircase and looked back. He caught his bottom lip between his teeth and passed a questioning gaze over them all. “We ready for this?”

  Cordelia dragged in a breath and heard Thorn do the same. She gripped his hand. He’d paled, making his green eyes seem huge and unnaturally bright. He’d talked her into bringing him and clearly he was regretting it now. So was she.

  The small of her back tightened, jolting unease up her spine. In her experience, the attitude of a group’s members reflected those of their leader. She wasn’t looking forward to meeting the man who ruled the Tylwyth Teg.

  “I’ll go first. You bring up the rear, Nightshade,” Michael said.

  “Yes, bard. I know my place.”

  Michael pinched the bridge of his nose, then gave Nightshade a weary look. “Have we got a problem, you and me?”

  Nightshade glanced away, lines of tension framing his tight lips. Cordelia thought he wasn’t going to answer, but finally he gave a single abruptnod. “I have your back, bard.”

  Her neck prickled. She didn’t want Nightshade at her back. She preferred to keep him where she could see him.

  “Grand,” Michael said, his tone laced with irony. “Let’s be getting this over with.”

  As they climbed, Cordelia counted the stone steps to focus on something other than the nauseating storm roiling in her stomach. At a count of fifty, she paused to gaze out a tall narrow window overlooking the lake. The horse-shaped landmark she’d memorized stood out against the unnaturally blue sky. She prayed she’d soon pass beneath the rocky outcrop on her way home.

  After another fifty steps, a second window gave a view of a quadrangle enclosed in the center of the castle. A few Tylwyth Teg made their way back and forth across the paved square where a fountain cascaded into a circular pool. Some of the Teg wore long white robes, others brown jerkins and trousers.


  Thorn ducked his head into the opening beside her to take in the view. “D’you know what’s strange?” He glanced up the dingy winding stairway, then back out the window. “If this guy’s the king, why’s he up at the top of this tower in what’s got to be a pokey little room? Why isn’t he in some grand hall on a throne or something?”

  A trickle of unease ran down Cordelia’s spine. She glanced at Michael.

  “I was thinking the same thing meself, lad.” Michael gave Thorn a slap on the back. Thorn grinned as though he’d won a prize.

  “Do you think it’s a trap?” Nightshade asked as the same thought formed in Cordelia’s mind. She pinched her lips together. She hated the way she and Nightshade sometimes thought alike.

  “ ’Tis a possibility I’ve been turning over in me head.” Michael rested his hands on his hips, stared up the staircase, then looked at Nightshade. “Maybe we two should go ahead and check things out?”

  Nightshade moved to pass her. She pushed out her elbow to block his way.

  “No.” Chills fluttered through her. She remembered the darkness that had invaded her divination mirror during her foretelling for Michael. She couldn’t let him out of her sight in case something bad happened to him. “You two can go first, but Thorn and I will follow. We’re not waiting here.”

  Michael gave her an appraising look. She fixed her mouth in an unrelenting line and met his gaze. He shrugged. “I’ll not be arguing with you, lass, if it’s determined you are.” She was pleased he’d agreed, but surprised he had capitulated so easily.

  While Nightshade sidled past her in the narrow stairwell, the scar on her neck from Dragon’s bite tingled and her heart sprinted as though it wanted to run away. He paused and glanced back at her quizzically. She watched him from the corner of her eye but refused to meet his gaze in case she betrayed her fear. Dragon had thrived on exploiting weakness.