by Karen Chance
"But, even were the Fey willing to help, how would we get him there?"
"What about the portal at MAGIC?" The Metaphysical Alliance for Greater Interspecies Cooperation was the supernatural community's version of the United Nations. It wasn't my favorite place, but we'd have to go in to get Mircea anyway, so it made sense to simply take him through MAGIC's own link to Faerie.
But Rafe squashed that idea. "It has not yet been repaired. Your passage last time was not…conventional…and it shattered the spell. The Consul has appealed to the Fey to allow another, but they say if we cannot control who enters their lands better than that, they are not certain they wish us to have one. We are in negotiations, but there is no knowing how long they may take."
And the Fey weren't known for doing anything in a hurry. Not to mention that the portal, when and if it did open back up, was almost certain to be very well guarded. No help there.
"Damn it!" I hit the table with my palm, hard enough to slosh my untouched coffee everywhere. I was mopping it up with the napkin shreds when one of the mental Post-its I'd been filing at the back of my brain began waving about. "Tony has an illegal portal around here somewhere," I said slowly. "He used it for smuggling. I just don't know where it is."
Rafe gripped my hands, and for the first time he looked hopeful. "How do we locate it?"
"I don't know. But I know who to ask."
"You don't need a portal until you have the book," the pixie said, fluffing her tiny shock of bright red hair. She'd found a compact somewhere, possibly in the trash because most of the powder it once held was gone. She was using it for a mirror on the dressing table she'd made out of a bunch of CD cases. "And you haven't made any progress on that at all."
"You need it to get back home," I pointed out. "Unless you want to stay here?"
I looked around her makeshift apartment. It was fairly spacious from her perspective, taking up several shelves in the closet of Pritkin's study room. She'd fixed up the top shelf as the dressing area, while the bottom was a bedroom, complete with an oven mitt for a sleeping bag and a small flashlight for a lamp. She shot me a dirty look nonetheless. "Yes, I've found your world to be so hospitable."
"When I visited yours, I was almost killed!"
"And I was locked in a file cabinet," she spat.
"It beats a dungeon!"
"Ever try it?"
I'd seen the file cabinet, which looked like a bomb had exploded from the inside. "It didn't look like you had any trouble getting out."
"Only because it was made of some inferior metal, instead of iron." She shuddered. "I could have died, my magic leached away, my body slowly freezing in the cruel grip of cold—"
"Yes, but you didn't. And if we could get back to the point?"
Furious lavender eyes met mine. "The point is that the slave must return to the king's service and you must find the book you have promised him." She smiled evilly. "You do not wish to return to Faerie without it. The king is not known for his forgiving nature."
"Françoise isn't going anywhere," I told her, for maybe the tenth time. "And if the king's wrath is so dreadful, why did you offer to help us escape from him? Weren't you afraid of the consequences?"
The pixie fluttered her wings agitatedly. "That was different."
"Different how?"
"The mage offered me something irresistible." Her frown faded and her eyes suddenly shone with a softer light. "No one would have blamed me for taking it, not even the king."
"Offered you what?"
"It doesn't matter! I can't find it!" She kicked the jewel cases, then sat on the oversized spool of thread she'd turned into a seat, surreptitiously rubbing a hurt foot.
A memory suddenly clicked into place. "The rune stone. Jera." One of the reasons I'd managed to survive—barely—my one and only foray into her world was because I'd acquired some battle runes from the Senate. The Consul no doubt wanted them back, because they'd be useful in the war and because I hadn't exactly asked before taking them. But I thought that at the moment she might want Mircea more. And I couldn't see what good a rune stone would do her when its only power was making people more fertile.
The pixie glanced up resentfully. "He said he had it. He even showed it to me. It looked real."
"It is real." Understanding dawned. "You were willing to risk the king's wrath merely for the chance to have a child?"
"Merely?" Her tiny voice rose to a squeak. "Yes, trust a human to see it like that! My people hover on the brink of extinction, while your foolish, weak, puerile race, whose only accomplishment is to breed and breed and—"
"Yes, thanks, I get the point." I looked at her narrowly. "What if I could get it for you?"
A whirlwind of glittering green wings was suddenly in my face. "Where is it? Do you have it? I thought one of the mages—"
I smiled. No wonder she'd been sucking up. "I can get it."
"I'll believe it when I see it."
"Then you'll believe it soon. But I want the location of the portal in exchange."
"I'll find it," she promised fervently. "Just don't think of double-crossing me, human. You'll discover that I'm even less forgiving than my king."
Chapter 10
That afternoon I was checking in the convention that the hotel staff had secretly labeled the Geek Squad, a couple hundred role-playing enthusiasts who had arrived with bag and baggage, and in a few cases swords and armor, when I caught Pritkin staring at me. He was across the lobby, leaning against one of the fake stalagmites that erupted from the floor, all beard stubble and mussed hair and strong, lean build. His body looked relaxed, but his face held the same hawkish expression I'd last seen when he was standing over Saleh's headless corpse.
I scowled and handed a name badge to a guy dressed in a long trailing robe and a pointy hat. He shifted his staff to his other hand so he could pin it on. I didn't think it likely to help with ID much; he was the seventh Gandalf I'd seen that morning.
"I still don't understand why we can't set up now," the guy at my side whined. His voice was muffled by the mask he was wearing, but unfortunately not enough that I couldn't understand him. It had taken me a moment to identify the mask since he'd added plastic tusks that made it sag weirdly in front. I guess he hadn't been able to find a good ogre's head, because he'd converted a Chewbacca.
"I told you, we're doing some last-minute cleanup," I explained for the fifth time.
"They can't be cleaning the whole room at once! We can work around them."
"It's not my call," I said curtly, watching a bunch of guys in elf ears who were pointing at the large creatures perched near the cavernous ceiling of the lobby. Each was six feet tall, grayish-black, with huge reptilian wings that ended in sharp, delicate claws. They looked like a cross between a bat and a pterodactyl, and most people mistook them for gruesome decorations. But the «elves» had apparently decided to use them for target practice: all three had bows in their hands and one nocked an arrow as I watched.
Before I could battle a path through the crowd, one of the creatures soared gracefully to the top of a stalagmite. Its new perch glittered with crystals in the low light, almost as brightly as the creature's dark eyes as it surveyed the tourists with predatory anticipation. It caught sight of the bow-wielding gamer and gave a shriek like tortured metal that echoed around the vastness of the lobby, drawing every eye in the place.
"Hey, cool!" the guy with the arrow said. "A yrthak!"
"That can't be a yrthak," another gamer said in a superior tone. "It has eyes."
A shiver of dread crawled down my spine. Once before, the casino's built-in security forces had mistaken innocent bystanders for dangerous intruders—and dealt with them accordingly. That time, it had been me and Pritkin in the hot seat, and we'd almost ended up dead. I somehow didn't think the average tourist was likely to fare even that well.
I dove between a couple of hobbits—or jawas or possibly very short monks—and grabbed the bow out of the gamer's hand. I tossed it to one of the s
ecurity guys, who had jogged up from the other side. Casanova's love affair with filthy lucre was going to be the death of us all. "This was not the time to book in a bunch of norms," I hissed, sotto voce.
The guard just shrugged, holding the bow too high for the flailing arms of the outraged gamer to grab it. "No discharging weapons inside the casino!" he bellowed.
The young man scowled. "Zero charisma, okay?"
I turned to find Chewbacca still foaming at the mouth. "Look, lady, I got vendors with no place to put their stuff! What am I supposed to tell them?"
Even if Casanova had been paying me, it wouldn't have been enough for this. I threw an arm around his hairy shoulders. "See that guy over there?" I pointed at Pritkin. "He usually handles stuff like this. Only he doesn't like that to get around, so you might have to be a little persistent."
Tall, dark and fuzzy pointed at Pritkin and yelled something to the half dozen vendors hanging around the entrance. They converged on the mage in a pack and I went back to work. Five minutes later, I felt a warm hand descend on my shoulder. "That wasn't very nice."
My skin prickled like someone was breathing on it. "Since when do you care?" I snapped. «Nice» wasn't even in Pritkin's vocabulary.
"It isn't one of my usual requirements," he agreed, sounding amused.
I didn't answer, my eyes on the group of gamers who were now trying to entice the «yrthak» down from its perch by waving a sandwich at it. It really concerned me that it hadn't gone back to its proper place yet. Even more worrying was the fact that its eyes were fixed not on the proffered food but on the nearest gamer's jugular.
"You can control those things, right?" I asked a nearby guard nervously.
The man didn't answer, but he moved a few yards closer to the "elves," his face about as happy as mine. Letting someone get eaten wasn't likely to improve his next performance evaluation. He pulled out a radio, looking worried. "We may have a situation," he told someone.
"I saw you watching me." The words were spoken directly into my ear.
"Bully for you," I said, as my nice orderly line of elves, trolls and ancient wizards went scurrying off to where the action was. Damn. I'd really hoped to be out of here soon.
Pritkin was standing close enough that the heat from his body was causing a little trickle of sweat to run down my spine. "Entertaining as this conversation has been," I told him caustically, "I have actual work to do. Why don't you go point a gun at something?"
He didn't comment, maybe because he was too busy licking a slow, wet trail up my neck. For a frozen second, I just stood there. I'd always assumed that Pritkin had some kind of allergy to human contact. He rarely touched people, unless he was moving me around like a mannequin, and he never made passes. Especially not such…obvious…ones.
I spun to see his smile widening, his eyes gone vibrant green. It was not an expression I'd ever imagined on his face—an almost feral sexuality. And his clothes were back to black. It gave me a very bad feeling, and that was before he reached out and pulled me against him.
Whatever I might have said was silenced by lips sliding softly over mine. I wasn't prepared for him to kiss me, much less like that. His mouth was warm and surprisingly sweet, and the faint scrape of stubble shouldn't have been the least bit erotic, yet it was. His tongue traced a feathery caress over my bottom lip in a way that felt positively indecent. I pulled back, seriously confused. "What—"
"No," he said, tilted my head and kissed me. Heat radiated from the heavy hand resting on my neck, and a thumb stroked light patterns down my throat. A sudden rush of desire made me forget to keep my mouth closed, and a tongue twined expertly around my own. Pritkin took his time, exploring me, tasting me. A hand rested on my waist, in what should have been a neutral spot, but it burned.
I jerked away, angry and confused. "Are you crazy?" One of the fun facts about the geis was the jolt of pain it gave me whenever I got close to anyone but Mircea. It seemed to have a particular grudge against Pritkin, upping the usual warning where he was concerned to a level that had me certain my eyes were dripping down my cheekbones.
He didn't answer, just somehow backed me into the reservation desk without laying a hand on me. Something was going on in the casino: I could hear screams and see camera flashes, and a bunch of guards ran by with a huge net in their hands. "I know you talked to Saleh," he whispered against my lips. "What did he tell you?"
Another inhuman shriek rent the air, this time from above. The second creature did not appear to like the fact that the guards were trying to trap its companion. It took off the top of one of the stalactites on its way to join the fight, and fake rock rained down on us from all sides. I barely noticed, being far more concerned about the body suddenly pressing hard against me.
"Answer me." The hilt of a sword was gouging into my ribs, I realized vaguely, and something was…was wrong about that. Where was the holster lump on his thigh? Or the ratty leather belt studded with weapons and potions, like a homicidal mad scientist? And since when did Pritkin wear cologne?
I suddenly panicked. None of this made sense. I was absolutely not standing in the middle of the lobby making out with Pritkin while all hell broke loose. I pushed at him, with no more result than trying to move a boulder. "Let go!"
Power flooded the air, making the hairs on my arms stick up in alarm and sending a scorching tide rolling across my body. "I said let go," I murmured, suddenly lost in a pair of crystal-clear eyes. His mouth claimed mine again, fierce and possessive, not at all shy of anyone who might be watching, and something about it made the rest of the world fall away into pure hunger. The scent of him was maddening—something elegant and expensive and completely unexpected, with the musk of skin and need beneath the rest.
He pulled back and I looked into the face of a stranger, one wearing an expression of hawklike intensity. "Answer me." The command surged through me with the irresistible force of a tidal wave. I opened my mouth in unthinking response, just as a new shower of plaster from above dropped on top of us.
I sputtered and choked on a mouthful of gray dust, and Pritkin gave a frustrated sigh. "For a place filled with incubi," he said dryly, "managing a seduction here is surprisingly difficult." I stumbled back into another group of security men headed for the crisis of the hour, and by the time we got ourselves sorted out, Pritkin was gone.
"You know, I'm not so forgiving, either," I said, glaring at the pixie. As if I didn't have enough trouble with Pritkin going insane, Radella had come up with exactly zilch.
Françoise was still pawing through the alarming number of weapons Casanova had stockpiled in a storeroom on Dante's lowest level. I'd decided that, given the number of people who wanted me dead, maybe I should stock up. And with Radella still scheming against her, I figured Françoise might be able to use a few items herself.
She held up something. "Q'est-ce que c'est?"
I squinted at it. "It's a Taser. It shocks people."
"Quoi?"
"Like lightning." I danced about a little and understanding lit her eyes.
She looked at the pixie, who was hovering well out of reach near the ceiling, and smiled. "Shock me and I'll cut your heart out," Radella promised.
Françoise didn't comment, but she clipped the small device to the olive green, army-style tool belt she'd found in a weapons locker. It looked a little odd next to her outfit. She was still wearing the dress from the fashion show, although the spiders were starting to look a bit lackluster. Two had stopped moving altogether, and the one on her shoulder had been weaving the same web for the last twenty minutes. It looked like the charm was meant to last for one day only.
Other than the dress she'd had on when she escaped from Faerie, it was the only outfit I'd seen her wear. It suddenly occurred to me that she might not have any others. I made a mental note to take her shopping.
"What seems to be the holdup?" I asked Radella, while examining a 9 mm. It didn't look like the grip was any smaller than mine, so I put it back.
"I can't find it, all right?" She fluttered to the top of a gun cabinet and sat down, chin in hand. Her iridescent wings drooped around her shoulders dispiritedly. "I've looked everywhere!"
"Then look again!"
"If the portal was here, I'd have found it!"
"Well, obviously not," I pointed out. "Because it is here."
"Then it should have been easy to locate," Radella groused. "The power output alone—"
"Come again?"
She gave me a disgusted look. "Portals don't run on batteries! They're rare not only because they're regulated but because few people have a power source capable of handling one."
"What kind of power are we talking about?"
"A lot. A ley-line sink is usually required, although there are talismans capable of opening a short-term gateway. But they're rare. I doubt that vampire had one."
"A ley-line what?"
"Where two lines cross and pool their energy," Radella said impatiently. I blinked at her. "Ley. Lines," she said, very slowly and distinctly. "You do know what those are, right?"
I had heard of them, but the memory was vague. Just something about a lot of ancient monuments being constructed on parallel lines. "Assume I know nothing," I told her.
She smirked. "I always do." Françoise said something in a language I didn't know and Radella flushed bright red. She slapped her tiny hand down, making the whole cabinet shudder beneath her. "Quiet, slave! Remember to whom you're speaking!"
"I always do," Françoise told her sweetly.
"Ladies!" I looked back and forth between the two of them, but nobody was going for weapons, which made it a pretty congenial conversation for those two.
"To put it really, really simply," Radella said icily, her eyes still on Françoise, "ley lines are borders between worlds: yours, mine, the demon realms, whatever. When those borders collide, you get stress, like when two of your tectonic plates rub together. And stress creates energy."
"Like magical fault lines."
"That's what I said!" Radella snapped. "Only in this case, there's no land to move, only magical energy getting hurled about. Therefore, instead of earthquakes or tsunamis, you get power, which can be used for various applications by those who know how."
