Taken

by Jennifer Blackstream

Something touched my finger. I stared at my ring pressed against Flint’s shoulder. Peasblossom perched on the silver band, pressing her palm against the blue gem. The magic reacted to her, to my magic inside her. Cool, refreshing energy flowed from the ring, up my arm, over my entire body. As it passed, it took with it some of the heat, and the anger and desire bled away enough for me to think. I took a breath, and the red haze slid away from my eyes.

  Bit by bit, I swallowed it all. The anger, the sadness, the fear. Even the attraction. I pushed it all away, as far into the bottom of my soul as I could manage. I’d sort through it later.

  I tugged on my hand, but Flint still pressed against me, pinning me to the wall with my hand still firmly trapped between us. I met his gaze.

  “You’re either very brave, or very stupid,” I said, my voice calm, if a little shaky.

  “You’re the one who wanted to play with fire,” Flint said, eyes twinkling with amusement, and something a little darker.

  Magic licked my palm, and a loose thread on his pants sizzled to life in a tiny spark of flame. Flint let out a sound somewhere between a cry of surprise and a laugh, and fell away from me grinning like a jack-o’-lantern.

  “You are daring, aren’t you?” He brushed at his pants, making sure there were no more sparks, no damage. “I—”

  A feline growl from behind him cut off whatever he’d been about to say and sent Peasblossom darting behind my neck. The grin melted away as quickly as it had come into being, as the leannan sidhe stiffened, turning only his head to see the source of the sound out of his peripheral vision.

  “What is it?” I asked. I couldn’t see around Flint to what had made the sound, and I didn’t want to move around him to find out.

  “Someone’s pet has got out.” Flint let me go, though he didn’t move from his position between me and the growl. “Stay calm and avoid making any sudden moves.”

  He eased away from me, and I took his arm as I had before, sliding the pad of my fingers down the smooth material of his tuxedo before resting in the crook of his elbow. If my palms were sweaty, then that was no one’s business but mine.

  Together we stepped away from the wall, aiming for the door that led out of the labyrinth of paintings and back to the open entrance rooms. Flint no longer stood between me and the source of the growl, and despite my trying not to stare, my steps faltered.

  It was the dream shard. No, not the dream shard. The beast from the nightmare that had spawned the dream shard. The beast that had followed the SUV as Andy and I drove through the upscale neighborhood to Marilyn’s house. The creature let out another rumbling growl, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood straight up.

  Now that it stood not five feet from me, with no shadows to hide behind, I could see it was feline. A massive black feline with eyes like melted emeralds. Panther-like, but with ears too pointed, and at a size beyond any mundane panther. Its claws protruded like crescent moons on paws the size of saucers. Its black fur was so dark it didn’t look like fur at all. The cat appeared as if it were a cat-shaped hole into deep space, as if I could reach out and my fingers would pass through into empty night.

  “And who have you offended now, Mr. Valencia?” A lavender-skinned woman with long black hair took a sip of champagne, blue eyes sparkling over the rim of her glass. “Do you think they’ve sent the kitty to eat you?”

  I stared at the cat, then Flint. The woman was right. The cat wasn’t growling at me—it was growling at Flint. Given my distaste for the leannan sidhe, that should have been a somewhat comforting thought. The dangerous feline was angry with the murderer I’d taken up an uncomfortable and temporary alliance with. But if this cat bore a grudge on Flint, then they were obviously connected. So why had it been in my nightmares?

  The entire room had gone silent, something I didn’t notice until the large cat growled again and there was no background noise to muffle the sound. If I was a different person—a smarter person, with less conscience—I’d leave Flint behind to deal with the animal and go find the children myself. He’d served his purpose, for the most part.

  But that was not how a witch operated. Unfortunately.

  I drew myself up to my full, albeit unimpressive height and surveyed the room. “Whose kitty is this?”

  “That is a cat sith.”

  Marilyn stood at the edge of the maze of paintings, her blue-eyed stare focused on the cat. Her attention ricocheted between me, Flint, and the beast, then she took one imperious step forward.

  “Are you familiar with the cat sith?” she asked.

  Something about her tone told me it wasn’t good. I searched my memory, rummaging through the bestiaries I’d studied. I hated pop quizzes. “A fairy cat.”

  “The depths of your knowledge must make your mentor so proud.” Marilyn rubbed her temples, careful not to disturb the perfect waves of golden hair spiraling over her shoulders. “The cat sith has a rather annoying tendency to eat the souls of the newly departed dead, keeping them from going on to their next life. They also have a fondness for witches.”

  I almost asked if by fondness she meant they liked witches as companions, or as food, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.

  “It is not every witch that can attract a cat sith,” came a masculine voice.

  A man parted the growing crowd, revealing a tall sidhe with long, dark hair frosted with yellow blond that swept straight over his head to hang down the middle of his back. Muscles thickened his body, leaving no question his suit had been tailored to fit him. Anything bought off the rack would have strained against the thickness of his chest and biceps. I had the impression he’d be more at home in leather battle armor. He had that wild, uncouth edge to him, despite the suit, an air that said part of him hoped any gathering turned into a mob. Grey eyes peered at me from heavily kohl-lined lids, and a smirk played at the corner of his mouth. He held a frosted mug of beer in his hand, but the drink seemed forgotten as he stared at the feline before us.

  “Tell me, Mother Renard,” he said softly, his gaze sweeping in my direction, “what have you done to attract this beast’s attention?”

  “It seems to me that it’s interested in Flint, not me.” I’d meant that to come out stronger than it had, but even I could hear the plea in my tone. Desperation for someone to tell me the cat wasn’t after me. Blood and bones.

  The man’s smirk widened into a grin, revealing smooth white teeth and the canines of a bigger predator. “Oh, it’s interested in Flint, all right. But I believe you’ll find that is a result of his…intentions for you.”

  I frowned before I could stop myself. “You think it’s…protecting me?”

  The large animal made a sound somewhere between a snort of derision and a sneeze, and I jumped, startled. The tuxedo-clad warrior’s nostrils flared as the cat took a few steps in his direction, one massive paw in front of the other, claws clicking against the polished floor. I was simultaneously grateful the beast wasn’t prowling toward me, and shocked that the beer-toting sidhe didn’t look more concerned as the beast prowled toward him. In point of fact, he looked…excited.

  “Perhaps we should mingle,” Flint said, his tone casual. “The auction will start soon, and I believe you wanted a word with Matthew’s former master before that happens?”

  “Yes.” I grabbed his arm, suddenly in a hurry to get out of this room, away from the cat and its new person of interest. “I don’t see her in here. Perhaps she’s moved on to the other room?”

  I didn’t breathe until we left the gallery. I was here to retrieve kidnapped children; this was not the time to get bogged down in sidhe politics or entangle myself with some sort of would-be animal companion. Especially an animal that seemed to have leapt straight out of my nightmares.

  Paranoia held my breath prisoner as Flint guided me to the room where Marilyn had stood to greet her guests. The potted plants tucked into the wall alcoves seemed to follow my movements with their blooms, as if the flowers spied on me for their mistress, gathering information ab
out the witch who’d caught the fairy cat’s attention. I tightened my grip on Flint and tugged until he stopped walking. I ignored the question in the quirk of his brow, my full and undivided attention locked on the doorway to the gallery.

  A second later, the large cat stalked out. My heart leapt into my throat, and Flint tensed beside me. The great beast didn’t even glance our way. Pace by pace, it left the room, thick black tail swinging behind it.

  Flint drew a breath, but I spoke first to cut off whatever question he might have. “I don’t see Lindsay. Where is she?”

  “The artists are expected to speak with the guests. Perhaps she is socializing.”

  I ground my teeth. “She—“

  “Tessa is standing over there in the corner.” He gestured to the woman in question. Her dress and hair were both icy blue, the dress falling in long, silken lines, and her hair twisted into a mass of springy curls that bounced as she threw her head back in a laugh. “She was Matthew’s mistress. I believe you mentioned a desire to speak with her as well?”

  “Yes, I do.” My temper flickered to life, and I let it lead me away from the fear and confusion the black cat had inspired in me. Given the choice between fear and anger, I’d take anger every time.

  “Stay calm,” Flint said under his breath, holding me back under the pretense of smoothing my hair away from my face. “Tessa can be loose with her gifts. It would behoove you to avoid any…sharp words.”

  “I am calm.” His gesture was too intimate on the heels of our earlier exchange, and I rubbed my thumb over the ring on my finger, concentrating on the hum of energy. I hadn’t realized before how much being around this many leannan sidhe had affected my emotions. I understood now, and they wouldn’t catch me off guard again.

  He wouldn’t catch me off guard again.

  “Let’s wait until there’s a break in their conversation,” Flint suggested. “I’ll introduce you.”

  I toyed with the zipper on my glamoured pouch. “We have two hours to find and negotiate the release of five kids. We don’t have time to wait.”

  “You believe you can negotiate for them?” Flint asked.

  “I’m going to try.”

  Flint stared at me, his attention a physical pressure boring into my left temple. Tension curled through the air between us, and he tilted more firmly in my direction without letting my hand out of the crook of his arm. “You know that won’t work.”

  I avoided his gaze. I was putting a lot of concentration into not letting the magical posturing of the leannan sidhe stoke my emotions to unmanageable heights. I didn’t have the focus to be a good liar right now. “It might. I can be very persuasive.”

  “Shade.” Now he sounded less like a date, and more like a parent warning a child that whatever it is they were about to do, they’d better not do it. “What are you up to?” He paused, and his eyes narrowed. “Why do you want to talk to Tessa?”

  I bolted. Well, not bolted. I walked briskly away from my nosy escort, and straight up to the bouncy-haired sidhe with the dead human slave. Explaining to Flint that I needed to talk to Matthew’s former mistress because I wanted to gather evidence of murder so I could get the Vanguard involved wouldn’t be productive. And I was never going to convince him I truly believed I could talk the children free. Better to ask for forgiveness than permission.

  I was only a few feet away when Tessa barked out a laugh in response to the conversation. Not a nice “Oh, that was a witty remark you made” laugh. More of a “That’s what you think” laugh. Her partner in conversation hissed and clasped her cheek to the right of her nose. Blood smeared her fingers when she lowered her hand.

  I halted in my tracks, staring at the cut over her cheekbone.

  “One of Tessa’s gifts,” Flint said, catching up with me. “Tessa gives new meaning to the words ‘a sharp tone.’ Best to avoid a verbal sparring.”

  I only half heard him. The cut on the sidhe woman’s cheek held all my attention. It bore a striking resemblance to the cuts on Matthew’s body. An idea sparked, and I rushed to the woman’s side.

  “Oh, goodness, you’re bleeding!” The woman’s lips parted in shock as I unzipped the pouch at my waist and dug inside. “I have a handkerchief here somewhere.”

  Tessa arched an eyebrow. “It is but a small cut, Miss…?”

  “Mother Renard.” I stopped and frowned, then felt around for my hat. Blast, I’d lost it somewhere. Why hadn’t Peasblossom told me it—

  My heart skipped a beat. I patted my neck, then rolled my shoulders. No pixie. “Peasblossom?” I blurted out.

  No answer. And now, both women stood blinking at me like a pair of owls. Indecision held me prisoner, trapped between a need to know where my familiar had got to, and the equally urgent desire not to let the leannan sidhe know that my pixie had gone rogue. Not that I thought they could find Peasblossom, let alone catch her, but I couldn’t take that chance.

  Trust her, I told myself firmly. I wrenched my mouth into a smile. “One moment, ladies. I know I have a handkerchief here somewhere.”

  “A witch?” Tessa’s gaze touched on my escort, and her lip curled into a sneer. “Flint Valencia. I wasn’t aware you received an invitation. And Marilyn used to have such high standards.”

  “I’m always invited.” Flint swept forward to take Tessa’s hand, laying a kiss on her knuckles. The motion put him between Tessa and the woman she’d cut, but I couldn’t be sure if he’d done that for my benefit or if it was a coincidence.

  I raised the handkerchief I’d found in triumph and offered it to the woman. “It’s a small cut, but it’s bleeding something fierce.”

  “I am not human,” the woman snapped. “I’m fine.”

  I barely registered what she’d said, my full attention on the cut. With a flex of my will, I sent a puff of silver energy into the air to settle on her skin. The wound flared to life, dancing with the same energy I’d seen earlier on the dead artist. I leaned closer, raising the handkerchief.

  The woman snared my wrist and tightened her grip until I hissed, afraid she’d snap the bone.

  “Do you believe I will let you have my blood, witch?” she snarled. “Do you truly think me so foolish?”

  “I was only trying to help.” I propped up my fake smile as my mind churned furiously. Tessa had cut Matthew. Had she stabbed him, too?

  “Tessa, you’ll have to excuse me,” the woman said, not taking her attention off me. “I think I’ll go peruse the paintings and leave you to talk with…them.” She released my wrist, throwing it down with enough force that I stumbled, then left, muttering something under her breath about witches. The unused handkerchief drifted to the ground in her wake.

  I rubbed my wrist to ease the dull ache throbbing there and turned to Tessa. “I do apologize for scaring off your friend. I only wanted to talk with you because I heard you won last year’s auction. You left with a gifted young boy— What was his name? Matthew?”

  Tessa beamed, indifferent to the fact I’d angered her last conversation partner. “Yes, I did. He was the best of the lot, too—ask anyone.”

  She talked about Matthew as if he were a purebred puppy, not a human being. The urge to wipe that pleased expression off her face made me tighten my fingers into a fist, but I forced myself to return her smile. “He’ll no doubt have something for sale tonight then.”

  “A few pieces, yes.” She smoothed one of her pale blue curls behind her ear, only to have it spring into the same position as before.

  “Only a few pieces?” I asked, feigning disappointment. “Competition will be fierce, then. I was hoping to purchase an original, and now he’s dead, so this is my last chance, and I know his passing will make his pieces even harder to get.”

  Tessa’s smile vanished. Tension curled around her shoulders, squeezing them together so she stood taller. “I never said Matthew was dead.”

  “You didn’t have to. I saw his body. Someone dumped it in an alley—like so much garbage.” Instinct screamed at me to watch my t
one, but anger drowned it out. “I suppose once they’ve stopped producing, they cease to mean anything, don’t they? A cow with no milk, a chicken with no eggs?”

  “I cared for Matthew,” Tessa said stiffly. “He was a gifted artist, and a passionate boy.” She stepped closer, the scent of wild jasmine and cold steel wafting off her pale skin. “If you think I would throw him away after everything I’ve done for him, everything he’s done for me, then you know nothing about my people. We are not murderers.”

  “If you’d truly cared for him, as you say, then he wouldn’t be dead. Humans wouldn’t have found him lying in the streets, bloody and abandoned.” I gritted my teeth. “He wouldn’t have been covered in cuts. Cuts I suspect you are very familiar with.”

  Tessa rolled her lips together, and her nostrils flared. For a minute, I thought she’d storm off. I couldn’t make her stay and talk to me, and it wasn’t typical for a sidhe to tolerate as much insult as I’d offered her. But she didn’t leave. Instead, she forced her shoulders down and lifted her chin. “Matthew liked me to cut him. The pain and the magic of it drove his creativity.”

  I stared at her, trying to judge if she was joking. “You don’t expect me to believe that?”

  “I don’t care if you believe it or not. It’s the truth.” She smiled, staring into the distance as if seeing something that wasn’t there. “Matthew had a wild soul, a passionate soul. When he first arrived here, a fog clouded his mind, a filter that allowed precious little of his brilliance to shine through. But after those horrid human drugs wore off, the real Matthew emerged. I didn’t restrain him, didn’t control him. I let him create, surrounded him with whatever medium and tools he wanted. And he was glorious.”

  Her voice took on a faraway quality, as if she’d drifted into the past. “One day one of his creations touched me in such a way that I laughed in pure joy. I couldn’t help it. My control slipped, and I cut him. He jerked and threw himself harder into the painting. ‘Again,’ he said. So I did. And again and again, he asked me to continue, begged me to laugh, to shout, to use my voice to release the inspiration that was driving him mad.” She met my eyes, and there was no shame there. “I did only as he asked.”