Charmed Vengeance tac-2

by Suzanne Lazear

  Kevighn stood on the Los Angeles street, gazing at the row of large houses. He never had liked Los Angeles as much as other cities. These houses weren’t monstrous estates like some he’d seen in his wanderings, but were certainly grand and well kept.

  Except for one.

  Even with its new coat of paint, one looked more worn, the shutters crooked, and the whole house seeming … tired.

  The Braddock Residence, for certain.

  It also appeared vacant. Then again, her mother was in Boston and she was with Jeff.

  A sigh reverberated though his entire being. At least she wasn’t with that whelp of a prince, who hopefully was still on his wretched quest and would die a miserable death.

  Kevighn’s gaze shifted to the house next to Noli’s, the one whose address matched what Ciarán had given him. It wouldn’t be terrible if that prat happened to dwell within. It would be nice to have a reason to kill him. The corners of his lips tugged into a smile.

  However, nothing would beat getting the chance to slay Quinn the Fair.

  Ah, revenge would be so sweet. Granted, Quinn didn’t actually kill his sister. But if Creideamh had never fallen in love with him, she never would have died.

  A highborn such as Quinn would never leave the court in order to be with Creideamh. No, instead he lured her out of the safe haven Kevighn had built for her in the dark court and attempted to bring her into his world.

  And she’d died. Kevighn would never forgive him for that.

  Today his mission wasn’t one of revenge, but to get the girl, Ailís. Unfortunately, the best way to accomplish his mission wouldn’t involve Quinn at all. It entailed convincing Ailís to come with him of her own free will—just like he’d enticed all those girls over the years to return with him to the Otherworld in order to be the sacrifice.

  He may need repeated visits. Like with all those girls it might take time, finesse, and presents. His rucksack held sweets, ribbons, and a mechanical bird—three items proven to tempt girls of nearly any age.

  However, given her age, no seduction would be involved. She also wouldn’t meet her death, but would instead one day be their savior of a different sort. Hopefully. Kevighn still didn’t have a firm grasp on Ciarán’s plan. But that wasn’t his problem.

  Instead of going to the house, he ducked into Magnolia’s backyard. The tree house, built not of the tree itself like Creideamh’s, but of a mishmash of odds and ends, drew his attention, the tree itself shaped like a “J.” He remembered her telling him about the tree house and her tree and how much she loved them. The hideaway could prove a good perch for some covert observation. Also, if the house itself were abandoned, there was less likelihood anyone would notice him lurking about.

  He climbed up the bent trunk into the tree house. The sheer Noli-ness of the place nearly knocked him over. From the hammer on the ground to the long-forgotten dried blooms, he could practically hear her voice calling to him.

  Surprisingly, a clan of wood faeries hadn’t taken residence. They came into this realm, and who wouldn’t want to live in a tree cared for by Magnolia?

  The window gave him an unobstructed view of the Darrow residence. As he observed the sadly empty backyard something caught his eye. The backdoor seemed ajar, and not just cracked open, but crooked. He studied the house for several moments, watching for signs of life.

  The longer he eyed the eerily still house, the more he got the idea that something was amiss. It was in the curvature of the back fence boards, the too-many-boot prints in the grass.

  Yes, this required further investigation.

  Had someone else gotten to the girl first? Ciarán wouldn’t be the only one to remember Tiana had a daughter—or recognize that something would need to be done sooner rather than later. Yet, who would have the gall to make such a treasonous move? The dark king could get away with things no one else in the Otherworld could. Climbing down the tree, Kevighn took his dagger from his boot and hopped over the fence into the other yard. The boot prints were from several different men, but all the same type, like they were soldiers. He made his way inside, creeping quietly, using the slightest touch of magic to see if anyone lurked within.

  Nothing. No one living, at least.

  Blood streaked the floor of the ransacked kitchen and he followed the trail. The already decaying carcass of the former earth king lay in what looked like a study. Kevighn grimaced at the sight and stench. He held no lost love for the former king, in fact, part of him seethed at the idea of never getting to settle the score they had. Yet at the same time, here was an exile who’d died all alone. A sad death for someone who’d once been king. Had Queen Tiana killed him?

  Perhaps this lonely demise was justice enough. His hand glowed as he used his magic to examine the body. The old king hadn’t died from magic, but of mundane knife wounds.

  No … he’d died of both. Interesting. A ploy to foil the mortal police perhaps?

  Leaving the body where he’d found it, Kevighn trekked upstairs to search for more bodies and clues. As miserable as finding the body had been, that wasn’t his task. Also, he wouldn’t be too upset if he found Stiofán’s carcass as long as he got to kill Quinn himself.

  No other bodies hid in any of the rooms. When he went into a girl’s room, presumably Ailís’, he frowned. Drawers were pulled out and things strewn about. Where some of the downstairs rooms looked ransacked, none of the bedrooms had been so. Certainly, a king-killer wouldn’t be looking for something hidden in a little girl’s room.

  She’d fled. Probably with her protector, Quinn the Fair.

  He picked up a forgotten doll and stuffed it in his rucksack along with a photo. Hopefully he could use the toy to locate the girl. As he walked down the hall he gazed at the door of the bedroom that belonged to Stiofán. At least, he presumed it was Stiofán’s considering it was his name written in the many boring tomes lining the desk.

  Did the he know about his father? Probably not, since he’d properly dispose of the body. Most likely he’d return as soon as his quest concluded.

  A devilish grin spread across Kevighn’s face. He should leave the prince a little surprise.

  “Ready, Noli?” Steven took Noli’s hand as they strolled down the street toward his house, James behind them. They’d sent aethergraphs to Noli’s mother and Jeff letting them know that she was still alive. Now it was time to let his father know he survived his ordeal as well.

  “I could wait.” Noli gazed at his house and bit her lower lip.

  Steven shook his head, squeezing her hand. “I told you, now that I have you back I’m not going to let my father keep us apart. Not anymore.”

  “I’m glad.” She returned his squeeze, giving him a faint smile.

  He didn’t blame her for being apprehensive—his father never liked her much and had given them nothing but trouble from the moment they’d declared themselves a couple. His belly didn’t unclench either. This act of defiance scared him. He’d always been the first to mind his father—or mother. As eldest son, that was his job. To obey. To be perfect. At least his father hadn’t been the one to order him to break Noli’s stone. Still, he wouldn’t be happy that Steven found a way to stay with her.

  Queen Tiana would also be displeased. But that was another matter entirely. One that inspired terror. Still, Noli was worth it.

  “You two are so mushy.” James made a face of disgust.

  “I’m sorry.” Noli’s cheeks pinked and she dropped Steven’s hand as if burned.

  “I … I didn’t mean it like that,” James apologized. “I … ” He looked away.

  Noli put a hand on James’ shoulder. “I understand.” Lips so tight they went white, he nodded, gulping. Steven joined them. “Well, we try.”

  James gave him a weak smile, running his finger over the watch chain, which he’d attached to his pocket watch. “I do appreciate it. More than you know.”

  “Are you sure I should go with you.” Noli looked around as if any moment the propriety police would ju
mp out of the bushes and give her a citation.

  He took her hand again and kissed it. “I want you to come with me.”

  “Well, if you insist.” She nodded, lips pressed together.

  They walked down the side of the house toward the back door. It looked empty. His father was probably working and Quinn and Elise most likely elsewhere. Given the time of day, Quinn and Elise would certainly return soon.

  Noli studied the back fence and frowned. “Someone’s climbed over the fence. There,” she pointed toward her yard, “and there.” She indicated the back wall.

  “Look at all these footprints.” James gestured to the grass around them.

  Steven went cold. “Footprints. Why would there be footprints in my backyard?”

  “He said you’d pay,” Noli whispered. “He said you’d pay, this is all my fault.”

  “Noli, this is not your fault.” He cupped her face with his hands, trying to reassure her while an odd feeling sat like a lump in his own belly. “We aren’t even certain that something’s amiss.” That feeling of foreboding wouldn’t leave.

  “The door’s ajar.” James went pale.

  The bottom fell out of Steven’s belly. “This doesn’t bode well.”

  Something flapped from the bottom corner of the door. He bent down and picked off the piece of green fabric and held it up to the fading light.

  “Earth court colors,” James whispered, eyes widening in horror.

  “Its Brogan, it’s all my fault.” Noli shook, but she didn’t wail or cry.

  He put an arm around her. “Let’s go inside. Perhaps my uncle simply paid my father a social call. After all, they are brothers.”

  Steven didn’t believe it himself. His uncle had never visited them in the mortal realm. Why now? He opened the door. Blood splattered the kitchen and it looked as if a skirmish had occurred. His knees went weak and Noli’s hand flew to her mouth.

  “It’s just blood,” Steven told her—and himself—as he glanced around the kitchen searching for bodies. Drawers had been pulled out and cupboards opened. “You don’t have to go any further. Do you want to go to your own house and wait for us?”

  She shook her head and grabbed his hand. “We’ll this together.”

  That was his Noli.

  James shuffled over to them, frowning, something in his hand. “Earth court guard knife. This doesn’t look good.”

  Steven couldn’t form words as he took the knife from James and examined it. When their father had been king Uncle Brogan had commanded the earth court guard. All earth court solders had the same uniforms and weapons. Uncle Brogan had taught them how to use a knife with one just like the one in his hand.

  His finger traced the earth court insignia burned into the handle and handed it back to James. “Let’s continue on.”

  Not that he wanted to. He had no desire to see who the blood belonged to.

  They followed the blood trail to his father’s study, his heart thumping the entire time. Noli clutched his hand so tightly that it went numb. When they entered the room, Noli put a handkerchief to her face and turned away.

  “Flying figs,” James swore.

  “Father.” Steven’s knees shook. They hadn’t had the best relationship, but he was still his father. The stench of rotting flesh made his eyes water. Blood spattered the furniture, the walls, and the floor. The lingering pulse of magic tingled under his skin.

  The room looked ransacked, drawers open, books off the shelves. Were they hunting for something or trying to make it look like a robbery gone awry for the sake of the mortal police?

  Even though he should do something—anything—all he could do was pull Noli to him and stare at the grisly scene. Dead. His father was dead, murdered in cold blood. He wasn’t sure if he should scream, cry, run and hide, head off pell-mell to hurt whoever did this …

  Everything pointed to it being Uncle Brogan’s work.

  James came up beside him, eyes filled with disbelief. “I don’t understand. Why would earth court soldiers do this? Father’s done nothing to anyone, especially Uncle Brogan.”

  No, their father had left the Otherworld quietly and moped in the mortal realm like a good exile, bothering no one. Anger welled up inside Steven.

  “Father didn’t deserve to die, especially like this.” Judging from the state of the house and lingering magic, he’d at least put up a good fight. “Uncle Brogan probably didn’t even have enough honor to kill him himself and sent guards in his stead knowing father would be outnumbered.” Distain dripped from Steven’s voice. That was the coward’s way.

  “It’s my fault. King Brogan promised to get revenge for me not giving him the artifacts.” Noli pressed her face into his shoulder. “I’m so sorry; your father didn’t deserve to die.”

  Steven wrapped his arms around her. This was no scene for a lady, even one as uncommon as Noli. However, focusing on her helped to keep his own emotions at bay. Right now he needed to be rational and figure this out.

  “It’s not your fault,” he soothed. “I have a feeling Uncle Brogan has been looking for a reason to do this. As long as we’re alive, James and I are threats to his crown.” Noli looked up at him. “Why would he kill your father if you two are the threats?”

  “Because Uncle Brogan knows I’ll come after him in order to avenge my father—and he thinks I’ll lose.” He’d known for some time this day might come in some way, shape, or form, but he hadn’t expected it to be quite this soon.

  A sharp breath hissed between her teeth. “Are you saying Uncle Brogan killed your father, knowing you’d come after him, and then he’ll kill you?”

  Steven nodded, not ready to say the words out loud.

  Her head shook slowly. “I will never understand Otherworld politics.”

  “I think he meant this look like a robbery,” James poked around the room. “Nothing seems to be missing. But why? Why did he have to kill him?” He hit the wall with his fist.

  Steven wandered over to the bookshelf, wondering if the contents behind it were what the perpetrators sought. “I think that was the plan, to make it look like it could have been anyone, even a mortal, leaving just enough evidence for us. The knife was probably an accident. I’m pretty sure he didn’t mean to be that sloppy. He’d want it to be a boy, besought from grief, attacking him with halfcocked revenge and no evidence.”

  James snapped his fingers. “Uncle Brogan’s an excellent swordsman. He’ll be betting that he’ll win the challenge. Winning means he’s innocent, no matter what proof you have.”

  “What?” Noli made a face, her eyes rimmed in red. “Winning proves his innocence? There’s no due process in the Otherworld?”

  “We don’t have judges and juries in the Otherworld. We have monarchs, magic, and the Bright Lady.” Steven pulled the statuette on the bookshelf. It made a popping sound, releasing a hidden internal catch. His hand glowed green as he muttered the words to make the seal dissolve. The secret compartment hadn’t been disturbed. Good.

  Steven pushed the bookshelf aside, revealing a safe. Putting his hand on it, he recited the spell that would open it. With a deep breath, he opened the door. Inside sat a suit of armor, a sword, a book, a ring and a wooden box.

  Opening the ring box, he removed the gold ring with a stone as green as his sigil. Steven slid it on his right hand.

  “Are you really?” James eyed the precious things his father had snuck into exile with him. Remnants of his father’s former rank.

  “They’re mine now. Certainly, we can’t leave them here.” His fingertips brushed the elaborate sword which he had so many memories of. “When I kill Uncle Brogan, I think it would be poetic justice to use father’s sword. Before all else, be armed.”

  James’ eyebrows rose. “Finally, a quote I like. Who says that?”

  “Machiavelli.”

  Noli’s face contorted. “You’re going to kill him?”

  V put a hand onto her shoulder and gazed into her eyes. She still didn’t understand their world. But
she tried.

  His throat swelled. “I know it’s what he wants but I can’t ignore this.”

  Dead. His father was dead. He felt simultaneously angry and numb.

  “As long as you don’t die,” she whispered. “But I understand. If anyone hurt my family I’d kill them.”

  “I don’t plan on dying. I have too much to do.” Too many things to fix. He put a hand on her arm. “We should look for Elise and Quinn.” He prayed to the Bright Lady they were alive and unharmed.

  “Should we summon the police?” James asked.

  “No. We’ll take father’s body home and bury it ourselves.” Steven swallowed hard. He’d give his father that much, a small token of how much he’d meant to him, even if he hadn’t told him so before he’d died.

  “Yes, he’d like that,” James replied, voice hushed. “I still can’t believe Father is dead.”

  Noli squeezed his shoulder. “I’ll go with you.”

  “I’d like that.” He’d never told her, but she held him together, especially when he disappointed his father. Whatever happened to either of them, they went through it as a team.

  He didn’t want that to ever stop.

  They made their way through the house. Steven kept holding his breath, praying they didn’t find more bodies. Elise’s room stood empty. Clothes, toys, and books were strewn across the room.

  “Someone packed quickly.” Noli surveyed the room.

  “I hope Quinn took her away.” James’ face contorted in anger. “I know you, as eldest, have first right to challenge him, but I’ll be more than happy to kill Uncle Brogan if you want me to. Just say the word. He needs to pay.”

  V nodded. “That means a lot to me. If Quinn left with Elise, there will be a message.” He turned to Noli. “Quinn and I knew that there could come a time where something might happen, so we worked out a system to magically leave each other a message.”

  “That seems … organized.” Noli looked pale.

  He opened his bedroom door and recoiled as the stench of the human condition hit them. Noli put her handkerchief back over her mouth and nose.

  “That is disgusting.” James made a face at the mess on the bed. “I’m going to get some things from my room.” He left.