Warrior Rising (Harlequin Nocturne)

by Pamela Palmer

  “Paige was the one guarding the ones at Fort McNair, wasn’t she?”

  Charlie didn’t answer immediately and when he did, his voice was grave. “She phoned Jack the moment they spotted the Esri. The delivery van the bastards hid inside didn’t stop at the gate, so the MPs shot out the tires. That’s when all hell broke loose. A dozen Esri leaped from the van carrying swords. The flamethrowers were useless against them, thanks to King Rith’s ability to douse fire. The only reason you guys were able to use them the other night, apparently, was that the bastard ran and didn’t bother to put them out. Tonight he did. The Esri cut down every man in their path. And every woman.”

  Harrison felt a kick in the gut. “Paige is dead.”

  “Yes.”

  Dammit. He’d only known her a couple weeks, but she’d been strong and decent. “Any other Sitheen?”

  “No, and no Esri deaths. Once King Rith got the stones and sang, not even the holly worked. Every human on that base lost consciousness. There was no one to stop them on the way out.”

  Harrison gripped the steering wheel hard. “He’s on his way to Bolling.”

  “We think so, too, but we can’t get there to defend it. Not with the death marks. If he hasn’t figured out where the other stones are, we’ll lead him right to them. Getting rid of these death marks has become priority number one. We need you to bring Ilaria to McNair.”

  “You think raising the draggon stone is worth the risk?”

  “If we don’t, we’re not only sitting ducks, but useless. Once Ilaria’s done with the stone, we’ll hide it beneath one of the boats and move it. It was in the water at McNair, not far from the other three, yet we’ve reason to believe King Rith didn’t find it. He apparently can’t sense that one like he can the others.”

  A mere stone scenter wouldn’t have been able to find any of the stones through the lead-lined boxes hiding beneath the surface of the Anacostia River. Fortunately, Rith’s Caller abilities apparently only worked on the lesser stones, not the draggon. Unfortunately, once they pulled the draggon out of its hiding place, Rith, like any stone scenter, would be able to follow the magical scent.

  “I’ll get Ilaria over there as fast as I can.”

  “Call me when you’re close.”

  “Will do.” Harrison snapped his phone closed and looked at Ilaria. “How much of that could you hear?”

  “All of it.”

  “That’s what I was afraid of.” Traffic was moving, if not quickly, so they stayed in the car, easing around a delivery van smashed up against the rail. “How well do you know King Rith?”

  “Not well. After my first centuries, I spent little time in the Fair Court. Fifteen hundred years ago, I returned for a short while, to discover my mother had taken a new consort. Rith. I have a rare ability to sense power in others and I knew at once he had the markings of a dark Caller. I told the queen, but she was enamored of him and ordered me out of the Fair Court. She had no use for me or my complaints, as she called them. I stole the seven stones and ran.”

  “It sounds like you didn’t have a lot of respect for your mother.”

  “I didn’t.” She raked a frustrated hand through her hair. “Don’t get me wrong. I loved her. But she never saw the crown as a responsibility, only a privilege, and was concerned exclusively with her own needs and wishes. It was my mother who first enslaved the humans, then turned on the Marceils when the humans were lost to us after I sealed the gates. She wasn’t intentionally cruel, she simply never considered anyone but herself.”

  “You disapproved of the enslavement?”

  She exhaled a sharp breath. “The Esri don’t need slaves. Ours is a simple world. A small bit of work is all it takes to live in comfort, but my mother wanted all things given to her. And her couriers and ladies learned to desire the same.”

  Harrison enjoyed the sound of her words, hearing the frustration and regret as she painted the picture of a strong-willed, honorable heroine in a larger-than-life family drama. A fairy princess thwarting her queen mother and the evil consort who meant to take advantage. But what was the truth? Was she intentionally painting herself in a heroic light? Or merely recounting the past as she remembered it? Or was she out-and-out lying to him for another purpose altogether?

  How could he ever know?

  They finally managed to get through the mess on the bridge, only to come to a standstill as he tried to turn onto Maine Avenue. Ahead, an accident had the road entirely blocked. They’d reached the end of the line.

  Harrison stopped the car and turned off the ignition, leaving the keys inside. “Time to walk again.”

  They climbed out and into a scene he knew would be imprinted on his mind for years to come. A bus appeared to have been split in half by a pair of trash trucks that had come at it from either side. Bodies and refuse were strewn everywhere.

  Ilaria’s palm went to her forehead as he steered her through the wreckage. God, he was going to be sick. Every inch of his skin turned hot, then cold, then clammy, his stomach twisting, his muscles aching. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to seeing death like this. He’d never been a soldier, never gravitated toward battlefields, either foreign or urban. His world, until six months ago, had been filled with computers and clients and staff meetings. Not until Baleris found his way through the gate had death become a part of his life.

  They’d only gone a short distance when Ilaria grabbed him, her slender fingers curling around his wrist with surprising strength.

  “Harrison. Up ahead. Esri.”

  Chapter 7

  Harrison knew the moment the two Esri spotted the princess. Their steps faltered, their eyes widened and their jaws dropped in tandem. There was no mistaking them as anything but Esri, with their pale skin and hair, and their matching uniforms of black pants and silver tunics. But side by side the pair looked nothing alike. One was the color of snow and sported a mass of long yellowish curls, like something out of a British courtroom drama. The other’s skin was darker, closer to the ivory color of Ilaria’s, his long, straight hair the same shade, his face thin and sharp.

  As one, they started toward Ilaria. Harrison’s hand dove into his pocket, his fingers closing around one of the Bic lighters he never went without anymore. He wished to hell he had a flamethrower instead.

  “I know them,” Ilaria said softly at his side.

  Hell. But after two thousand years, she probably knew most Esri.

  “The one on the right,” she said, indicating the darker-skinned one, “is Luciar. He was a loyal member of my mother’s guard for more than a millennia. The other, Sanderis, was a member of her guard in later years.”

  “Friends of yours, by any chance?”

  “No. But they were part of my mother’s guard. Just because they serve King Rith now doesn’t mean they won’t shift their loyalty to me now that I’m free.”

  “Neither does it mean they will.”

  “True. But they’ve seen me, Harrison. If I run now, they’ll give chase, either to capture me or rescue me. We have to play this out.” She reached for him, squeezing his wrist. “Pretend to be enchanted. And whatever you do, don’t kill them. If Rith and the rest of his guard are nearby, the death mark will bring them running. You could endanger us both.”

  He couldn’t deny the soundness of her logic, but the thought of pretending to be enchanted…mindless…and letting her lead him to the guards appalled him. Yet his only other choice was to let them know he was Sitheen, which would lead to a fight to the death.

  Because no way was he letting her get anywhere near them without him.

  He supposed he was going to have to find it within himself to put on an act worthy of an Oscar.

  “Stay behind me, Ilaria.”

  “No. You’re enchanted, remember? You can’t speak again unless I tell you to.”

  He growled low, earning another warning squeeze of his wrist, but her fingers caressed after they squeezed, sending tendrils of warmth sliding over his skin.

 
With a struggle, he cleared his face of all emotion. Through what he hoped were dull eyes, he watched the pair approach.

  Neither Esri gave away a single thought through his expression. They’d make damn good poker players, which was the last thing Harrison needed right now. The closer they came, the faster his pulse raced, and the more he had to struggle to unclench his jaw and to keep the growing hatred out of his eyes.

  The hand in his pocket stroked the lighter.

  Though each guard glanced at him, neither paid him much attention. His attempt to appear witless seemed to be working. While that relieved him immeasurably on one level, it annoyed the heck out of him on another. Witless, my ass.

  “Princess Ilaria,” Luciar exclaimed softly, his eyes lighting with what appeared to be genuine pleasure. He bowed low, as did his companion. “How did you ever get free?” he asked, rising again to a height comparable with Harrison’s own.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Harrison watched Ilaria’s expression turn regal and cool. Wary.

  Good girl.

  “The gates opened,” she said simply, allowing the pair to think what they would.

  “Sweet Esria, I’m glad you’re free,” Sanderis exclaimed. “King Rith…” He shook his head, as if that said it all.

  Along his wrist, Harrison felt Ilaria’s fingers spasm. With relief that these men were loyal to her? Dismay that she’d seen through them? Or regret that she was about to turn them on the human at her side? No. Not the last. She wouldn’t betray him.

  Still, he wished to hell he knew what was going on in her head because this homecoming wasn’t going down as he’d expected. The guards weren’t prostrating themselves for their rightful queen, or greeting her with warm hugs. Nor were they grabbing her in order to drag her to King Rith.

  By the tension in Ilaria’s hand and the coolness of her tone, he suspected she couldn’t tell what their game was any better than he could.

  “We cannot allow King Rith to find you, Princess,” Luciar said. “He’ll never allow you to return to Esria.”

  “He’ll not risk you stealing his throne,” the other agreed.

  Ilaria’s chin lifted ever so slightly. “Rith is a Caller.” The words sounded as both accusation and command.

  Sanderis’s eyes narrowed, his brows lowering as if dismayed. “Why would you say that?”

  “How can you doubt it?” Ilaria snapped. “All you have to do is look around you. This is Rith’s doing.”

  Luciar had turned away before Harrison caught his reaction, but now he turned back with an expression of remorse. “I’ve suspected he was a Caller for a while, but never had proof.”

  Ilaria eyed him sharply. “How many of the stones are in his possession?”

  “Three.”

  “Can you imagine what will happen if he gets his hands on all seven?”

  Excitement flared in Luciar’s eyes for a split second before he dampened it, but not before Harrison saw. The thought of even greater destruction excited the bastard. Which meant he was no friend to Ilaria.

  “We’ll have to confront him, Princess,” Luciar said with a gravity that proved him a fine actor. “We’ve a safe place to hide you where he won’t find you. Leave your human here. You won’t need him.”

  Don’t trust him, Ilaria. If only it was his hand on her wrist, he might be able to warn her.

  Sanderis’s gaze slid to Luciar, then down to his own feet. Sanderis knew what Luciar was up to. Harrison’s muscles tensed. Ilaria’s fingers clenched around his wrist, but whether in response to his tension or to Luciar’s words, he couldn’t tell.

  “I want my draggon stone, Luciar.” A queen commanding her subjects.

  Luciar dipped his head in acknowledgement. “You’ll have them all, Princess. My queen,” he amended, his voice so rich with sincerity that Harrison’s conviction that he’d seen subterfuge wavered. “Now, let’s get you hidden before King Rith comes upon us.”

  But as Luciar spoke, he slipped Sanderis a look that had every muscle in Harrison’s body going rigid. He’d spent too many years across the negotiating table to not recognize silent communication passing between the pair. A communication that boded ill.

  She wasn’t going anywhere with these two. He’d take a death mark before he’d allow it.

  But as Luciar reached for her, Ilaria stepped back, pulling Harrison with her. “I’m safer on my own, Luciar, and we both know it.”

  Luciar’s eyes turned hard. “I must insist you come with us, Princess. We are most concerned with your safety.”

  “Are you?” Ilaria asked coolly. “Who were the traitors who turned on my mother, your queen, Luciar?”

  The Esri’s mouth flattened. Again, he flicked his gaze toward Sanderis. Harrison tensed, unsurprised when a second later they lunged.

  Sanderis flattened his palm against Harrison’s shoulder as if to push him away, but Harrison grabbed the Esri’s arm, using the man’s momentum to flip him. As Sanderis sprawled on the sidewalk, Harrison turned to Luciar. But his plan to tackle him was dashed when the Esri pulled a wicked-looking knife.

  Ilaria glided between them, her back to Harrison as if to protect him. But even as she moved, Sanderis leaped to his feet, a knife in his hands, too. The Esri were definitely learning how to dispatch Sitheen. Enchantment might not work, but good old-fashioned violence would, every time.

  “Harrison, run! Please.”

  Instead, he feinted toward Sanderis, drawing a stab which he easily avoided. The moment the Esri’s arm was extended, Harrison latched onto his wrist, immobilizing his knife hand as he pulled his Bic lighter, flicked it, and shoved the fire into Sanderis’s flesh. Instantly, the Esri went up in flame.

  He swung back toward Luciar only to find him hauling Ilaria against him, using her as a shield. A nasty smile pulled at the Esri guard’s mouth. “Set me on fire and you’ll burn us both. But I don’t think you want to do that, Sitheen.”

  Ilaria clung to the arm locked across her shoulders. Clung. It was a moment before the look on her face registered. She was staring at the screaming Sanderis, terrified. Terrified. As if she fully expected Harrison to turn on her, too.

  The realization was a fist to the gut. Did she really think him that much of a monster?

  Watching him with cunning eyes, Luciar opened his mouth and started to sing. Not the death chant, but neither was it music. No one would ever mistake it for music. It was a cry that, had Harrison heard it in the wild he might have thought it some kind of animal mating call. It sounded eerily like the song Baleris had sung at the Kennedy Center that day.

  He tensed, waiting for the humans to collapse once more. Instead, they started walking toward him. More than two dozen men, women and children moved to encircle them. Somehow Luciar had skipped the unconscious step and gone straight to zombies.

  Not a mating call, a call to action. To destruction. He had no doubt that the moment they reached him, they’d attack him like a pack of wild dogs, pummeling, kicking, clawing until all that remained of him was a bloody stain on the pavement.

  If he didn’t get out of here now, he never would. But he wasn’t leaving Ilaria behind.

  He launched himself at Luciar, tackling both him and Ilaria to the ground as he sought to free her from the bastard. The knife clattered away, but Luciar’s grip only slid upward, going tight around her neck.

  For one terrible moment, Harrison thought the guard was going to choke her until logic returned. She was immortal. Luciar couldn’t hurt her, couldn’t strangle her, no matter what it looked like to Harrison’s human eyes.

  Grabbing Luciar’s face with one hand, Harrison slammed the Esri’s skull back into the pavement over and over again while he clawed at his arm, trying to free Ilaria.

  He looked at her, dismayed to see her eyes still glazed with fear.

  “Ilaria, I’m trying to help you. Fight him!”

  Her gaze focused on him slowly, clinging to him. Finally she moved, her hands grabbing the arm at her neck and between the two of them
they set her free. As she scrambled to her feet, Harrison shoved the lighter into Luciar’s flesh and leaped back as the second Esri turned to flame. Around him, the zombies stopped abruptly, collapsing to the ground, some only a few yards away.

  Close. Too close.

  He stared at Luciar, so tempted to sing the death chant. While he might be willing to risk his own life, acquiring a death mark would endanger Ilaria. Not a risk he was willing to take.

  He grabbed her hand, hating the look of stark terror still wild in her eyes. A terror that calmed ever so slightly when she looked at him. It wasn’t him she was afraid of, he realized with a slam of relief. He was almost certain it was the fire.

  “Ilaria, we have to go.” But she didn’t move. He could see the pulse jackhammering at her throat. “Ilaria.” Gripping her shoulder, he gave her a small shake.

  Awareness flared in her eyes. “Yes. Let’s go.”

  The moment the humans came to, they’d be grabbing buckets and hoses and saving those two poor burning souls—the monsters who sought to help King Rith enslave the entire human race.

  He tugged on her hand and together they set off at a fast walk. When Ilaria began to run beside him, despite her long skirt, he nodded with satisfaction and began to jog. Needing to get them out of the line of sight of the two Esri before they pulled free of the fire, Harrison led her around the corner of one of the restaurants until they were running alongside the waterfront lined with docks.

  Watching Luciar grab her had done something to him. The rage he’d felt against the Esri race had coalesced into a single, sharp fury and a primitive need to protect. Not his world, not his mission. Ilaria.

  His gaze slid to her, unable to stay away. “Mind telling me what happened back there? Was it the fire?”

  She glanced at him, echoes of that wild fear still clouding her eyes. “Yes.”

  “Have you always been afraid of it?”

  “Not always, no.”

  “Want to elaborate?”

  “No.”

  They kept running along the waterfront, then onto a residential street lined with brick apartment buildings and well-maintained homes.