Taken

by Jennifer Blackstream

The older sidhe’s mouth fell open, and horror drained the color from his face. My stomach bottomed out, and I held my breath, waiting for the moment the cat sith would close its jaws on its prey.

  Flint gripped my shoulder, fingers digging in as he dragged me toward the door. “We need to leave now.”

  I pulled against his grip, needing to see what happened. The cat had crashed to the floor on top of Raphael, but I couldn’t see anything past the crush of bodies, the sidhe all gathering to watch Raphael’s grisly demise. “What’s happening? Why is he so angry with me? The cat sith saved my life. Why?”

  “There is no time for this,” Flint said. “We need to leave or you will die here. I didn’t pay five million dollars for a corpse.” He grabbed me around my legs and flung me over his shoulder. I gasped and flailed about before digging my nails into his shirt and clinging for dear life. My waist pouch dug uncomfortably into my belly, and I grunted and twisted in his grip to get into a better position. It was impossible to do with him running through the crowd, bolting around anyone who appeared too interested. We half flew out the door, and he made it to the end of the driveway faster than any man carrying a woman over his shoulder should have been able too. A small parking lot sat off to the side, and he quickly opened the door to a sleek black roadster.

  I grunted as he dumped me into the passenger seat, then circled the car to get in.

  “Wait!” I scrambled to right myself and lean out the window. “What about Andy? The kids?”

  “The Vanguard is with them.” He started the car and peeled out the gate. The man at the gatehouse waved as we sped past, but Flint didn’t spare him a look. “You personally informed Mac Tyre of your bargain with Marilyn, with the hostess herself standing at your side to confirm it. Your partner and the children could not be safer, I assure you. Mac Tyre is a man of his word.”

  “You know him?”

  I asked the question more to distract myself from my own situation than out of any true desire to know. I had to think of something other than my current circumstances, the result of the choice I’d made when lives were on the line. Something besides the fact I was leaving behind not only my familiar, but my life. One year. For one year, I had no life. I belonged to someone. A sidhe. A murderer.

  “He is well known. Mac Tyre is one of the oldest members of the Vanguard—there are some who say he was the first. Chosen by the five kings to build a justice system that would unite all people.”

  “The five kings?” I glanced at him. “I didn’t think you were that old.”

  Flint winked at me. “Perhaps not. But I know my history.”

  The wink didn’t do anything to settle my nerves. I started to put on my seatbelt, then stopped. Instead, I got to my knees and turned around in my seat so I could stare out the rear window.

  “Shade,” Flint began.

  His voice was gentle, and for some reason, that pissed me off. That was part of how I’d ended up in this position. That kind tone, the accommodating demeanor. It was so easy to think of Flint as a seducer, and yet I’d forgotten that the reason he was so terribly good at manipulating people wasn’t just sex appeal. It was intimacy. More specifically, his gift for building a sense of intimacy. I’d been so upset at what happened to Lindsay, so thrown by Andy’s distant behavior, that I’d forgotten Flint was an enemy. I’d considered him an ally without realizing it.

  Shame on me.

  I gritted my teeth. Well, I remembered now. And if he thought for one second we were going to play nice about this, then he was seriously mistaken.

  “Who is Raphael and why does he want to kill me?” I demanded, cutting off whatever he’d been about to say. “What did he mean, I’ll pay for my crimes?”

  Flint pressed his lips together, but allowed me to change the subject. “I do not know why Raphael has an interest in you. He is one of the oldest at court, the head of his house for as long as I can remember, possibly the founder. I have never known him to have personal vendettas. He enjoys battle, physical confrontations, but he’s never been one to engage in political conflicts.” He paused. “Well, other than the open animosity he has for Dubheasa.”

  My mouth fell open. “The Unseelie queen?”

  “Indeed. While a hatred of her does put one in rather good standing with Titania, there are few who would argue a hatred of someone as powerful and…mercurial as the Unseelie queen is wise.” He shrugged. “But Raphael has lived to a grand old age, so perhaps he knows something the rest of us don’t.”

  He paused, considering me. “I don’t know why he wants you dead. And it is…interesting to me that you don’t know either.”

  He was staring at me with that intense gaze that said he was trying to read my soul.

  “Watch the road,” I snapped.

  Something flickered behind his stare, a shadow that made me swallow hard. He returned his attention to the road, but I could still feel that stare. Still see that shadow. It seemed I might be nearing the end of his good graces.

  “What about the beast?” I asked, too loudly. “The cat sith. Why did it save me?”

  “A cat sith is unpredictable. I have never encountered one, so cannot speak with any sort of certainty. However, it would seem as if the beast has taken a shine to you.”

  I squeaked as he pulled off the road with a stomach-turning jerk of the wheel. Without a word, he angled the car onto the side of the road, threw it into park, and swiveled to face me.

  If I’d thought his look intense before, it was nothing compared to the one he gave me now. Gone were the hazel eyes of before, replaced with the irises of a sidhe in his power. Brown and gold alternated in elegant stripes, with a hint of something darker. “It’s time you were honest with me, Shade Renard.”

  I shifted uncomfortably at the edge in his voice. “I’ve been honest.”

  “You’re telling me you didn’t recognize the beast? You’ve never seen it before, never encountered that cat sith or any other cat sith?”

  I frowned. “No.”

  He tilted his head, not taking that glittering stare off me. “Interesting.”

  I didn’t want to be interesting. I didn’t want anything about this evening to be interesting. “Why?”

  “I find it odd the creature saved your life when you don’t even recognize it. One would think even a cat sith would want some bond, some sort of loyalty before going to such lengths to protect someone. You know of no one who might have sent it? You have never encountered the beast before?”

  An image rose in my mind. A flash of nightmare that I shoved away as quickly as it rose.

  “There,” Flint said, leaning forward. “You’ve thought of something. What was it?”

  “Nothing,” I said. The word came out hoarse, and I cleared my throat. “A bad dream, that’s all.”

  “Now, Shade,” Flint said. “You of all people should know how important dreams are. Especially amongst the Otherworld. Tell me.”

  I did know that. But I didn’t want it to be true. Not this time. “I have nightmares sometimes. Nightmares about a large black cat attacking people. Somehow it’s my fault, but I don’t know why. Everyone hates me; everyone blames me. There’s blood and screaming, and…” I closed my eyes, then opened them immediately when the images got worse. “Then a couple months ago, I…upset a sorceress. She used a piece of one of those nightmares to send a dream shard after me.”

  “What did you do to anger her so?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  The corners of his mouth tightened, and a little more shadow bled into his eyes, making the lines of gold look that much brighter. “Far be it for me to be ungentlemanly, but I don’t think you appreciate the change in your circumstances.”

  That sentence was all too familiar, but I pushed that thought away. “Oh?”

  “You belong to me now. I am not asking questions of a witch. I am asking questions of my witch. And you will answer me, honestly and completely. Do you understand?”

  There was no trace of playfulness anymor
e, no hint of a seductive playboy. He was drawing a line, warning me of the consequences should I cross it. My skin felt too tight, and it was hard to swallow.

  “Well, of course she understands you. She’s stupid, but not that stupid.”

  Peasblossom’s voice was so welcome, so unexpected, that I collapsed against the seat. Tears warmed my eyes, and I pressed my lips together, holding back a sob.

  Flint jerked away, his face losing a shade of color. “Oh, dear gods…”

  Peasblossom sat down hard on my shoulder, crossing her pink arms as she glared up at him. “Hello, pretty boy. Thought you were going to take my witch from me, did you?”

  “Peasblossom,” I said. My voice broke, and I closed my mouth again.

  Peasblossom patted me on the shoulder, then flung herself at my neck. She pressed as tightly to me as she could, hugging me hard enough that I knew she’d leave marks. “I couldn’t let you go without me,” she said fiercely. “I don’t care where you go.”

  Flint took a deep, slow breath. “I bought her, little one. She’s mine now.”

  “She’s still mine,” Peasblossom snapped. “I’m her familiar. You have no right to break us up.”

  “She’s right, you know,” I added, swiping at the tears sliding down my cheeks. “We’re bonded. You can’t force us to sever that bond.”

  “You left her behind. You intended to come with me alone.”

  “Everyone makes mistakes,” Peasblossom said primly. She patted my neck. “Even witches. But she knows better now, and she’ll never try to leave me behind again. Ever.”

  Flint’s attention bounced between us. “You’re telling me I own a pixie as well.”

  “You wish,” Peasblossom scoffed. “I remain my own. You own one half of a set, but not the other. I simply retain the right to stay with my witch. For as long as you hold her.”

  “Very well. But she is still my witch, to do with as I see fit. If you attempt to interfere in any way, there will be consequences.”

  Something about the way he said “consequences” sent a chill down my spine, and I pressed back in my seat, trying to rid myself of the sensation. I fought to twist my mouth into a smile I could hide behind. “Peasblossom isn’t one to interfere.”

  That assertion sent his eyebrows into his hairline, but he didn’t argue. “What did you do to anger the sorceress?” he asked me.

  I rolled my eyes, using irritation to tamp down on the fear still roiling in my stomach. “You were there. I made a mess in her hotel.”

  “Arianne? You’re speaking of Arianne Monet?” He frowned. “She was that upset about the fire.”

  I sighed. “Unfortunately, yes.” I didn’t add that she was likely more peeved about being brought to the attention of Anton Winters. After my run-in with Kaargra, I wasn’t in a hurry to engage in any conversation that could remotely be considered trying to break my nondisclosure agreement with the undead.

  “I didn’t realize she would be that cross. If she went after you for retribution, it’s a wonder you’re still alive.”

  “On that topic,” I said, “I need to go shopping before the end of the week. It’s time for another apology gift, and I have no idea what to get her.” I paused, then gave him a considering look. “I don’t suppose you have any ideas?”

  Flint blinked. “Apology gift?”

  “Yes. Maybe you could offer some input on jewelry? I haven’t tried that yet.”

  The leannan sidhe slumped in against his door, still studying me, but in a different way. It was the way I looked at clothes sometimes after I’d just bought them, reconsidering if they were really something I was going to wear, or if I’d acted too quickly.

  “You say you have nightmares about the cat sith. But even though you suspect it was your nightmares of the cat sith that Arianne used to make the dream shard, the beast itself has done nothing to harm you. Has, in fact, helped you.”

  “So it seems.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Let me guess. You have no idea why.”

  I shrugged. “None.”

  He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “Tell me why the vampire is interested in you,” he said. “He hired you to find his book when you were nowhere near qualified. He doesn’t do anything without a reason, so why would he rely on you?”

  “I told you,” I said tiredly, “I don’t know. I really, truly, honestly do not know.”

  “Did he let you see the vault?”

  I hesitated.

  “I own you,” Flint said. The first hint of anger crept into his voice. “Answer the question.”

  I glared at him and sat up. “Yes. Yes, he let me see the vault.”

  “Unheard of. Even his guards aren’t allowed in the vault. No one who doesn’t share his blood—” He froze, staring at me. “Are you related to the vampire?”

  I snorted. “No.”

  “Are you certain?”

  “Quite.”

  “How certain?”

  I crossed my arms. “I know as well as anyone can know. Is it possible that we share a far-off ancestor? Who knows? But to my knowledge, my family is from Sanguennay, and the vampire hails from—”

  I froze. Flint sat forward. “From where?”

  Oh, gods. I stared at Flint, trying desperately to remember if he’d ever said anything about knowing who Anton Winters was—who he used to be. The five kings; he’d mentioned the five kings. But they hadn’t been kings in the Old Kingdom, merely princes. They were known as kings only by people in the Blood Realm—in the world humans knew as the only world.

  “Tell me,” Flint said softly.

  I had no choice. The magic wasn’t trying to throttle me, so obviously the contract only barred me from revealing that Anton was a vampire. Flint already knew that. The contract didn’t seem to object to my revealing the vampire’s original name. “Dacia,” I whispered.

  Flint’s expression went completely blank. “Anton Winters is from the Old Kingdom. And what was his name there?”

  “Kirill.”

  Flint went white, and all traces of gold fled his eyes. “Kirill. Prince of Dacia?”

  “Yes.”

  Silence fell over the vehicle. Flint didn’t move, didn’t even breathe. He just stared at me.

  “Makes you wish you hadn’t caught his attention, doesn’t it?” Peasblossom asked smugly.

  “I don’t know how I caught his attention,” Flint muttered. “It was certainly never my intention.”

  “He has always been one to notice when someone gains a great deal of power quickly,” I told him. “It was your own fault for conquering your own people.”

  “I did not conquer my people,” Flint said, though he sounded tired. “I fought to gain an edge that no one else had.”

  “You killed your own kind.”

  Flint shrugged. “I wouldn’t think that would bother you.”

  “Murder always bothers me.”

  Some of the color returned to his cheeks, as if he were shoving away thoughts of Anton Winters’ true identity—and what that meant to have him as an enemy. “Always?”

  I met his gaze. “Always.”

  “Interesting,” he murmured.

  He was silent for a while, then looked at me again. “You swear you have no idea why the vampire has taken an interest in you?”

  “I swear.”

  “And you have no idea why Raphael wanted to kill you?”

  “No.”

  “Not a clue to what made the cat sith come to your aid.”

  “’Fraid not.”

  He drummed his fingers on his lap. “Why did Baba Yaga take you as an apprentice?”

  I couldn’t help it. I smiled. “I don’t know.”

  He snarled and shoved a hand through his hair. “You don’t know, you don’t know, you don’t know. Mother Renard, I’m beginning to wonder how you go about your life when you clearly know nothing about it.”

  I stared at him then. Not just stared. I gave him a witchy look. Eyebrows and everything. “I know that tomo
rrow night, I agreed to sit up with Mrs. Larkin’s six-month-old so she can finally get some sleep. I know Mrs. Kite lost her son to heroin yesterday, and I need to arrange for some of her neighbors to help out with the yard work and the cooking so she can take time to grieve. Given the circumstances of his death, it’s likely her son will rise as a ghost, and I need to be in the cemetery for at least a week to make certain I’m there to help him move on if he does rise.”

  Flint opened his mouth, but I kept going, not giving him a chance to talk.

  “I know my mentor cares about me, however she might hound me about being a private investigator. I know my partner, Agent Bradford, still needs my help to close those cold cases, to bring closure to people who lost loved ones. To answer questions he’ll never even know to ask without me.”

  “Shade—”

  I talked over him, tears burning my eyes in an acidic mix of regret and anger. “I know that I made mistakes, and I work every day to atone for that. I studied for I don’t know how many decades to be a proper witch. And I finally, finally started a private investigator service because that’s what I want to do. That’s what I want for myself, what I want so that I can be happy and still atone for my past. I worked damn hard to get where I am, to get what I have, and in one hour, I lost it all. I gave it all up for four kids I’d never heard of before today.” I swiped at the tears. “And that’s fine. It was the right thing to do, and I’m not sorry. But excuse me if I don’t want to sit here and hear you complain about your purchase. You bought a year of my life. I’m so terribly sorry it doesn’t meet your expectations.”

  Flint studied me for a long time. “What are you atoning for?”

  I swiped at more tears. “That’s what you focus on. Figures.” I took a steadying breath. “I have to tell you, I suppose. What with you owning me and all. But if you have a shred of decency, you’ll let me keep my personal wounds to myself. They have nothing to do with you, or the vampire.”

  “Tell me.”

  Fury rose inside me, a welcome distraction from the pain I felt coming. I curled my hands into fists and then spat the answer at him as if every word was a weapon. “My younger sister was a changeling. My father never knew, but I did. At the time, I believed I was suffering from a disease. The Evil Fire. I had seizures, and when I lay there on the floor, or wherever I’d been when it hit, I’d see things. Things that weren’t there, or shouldn’t be. And I saw her. I saw how different she looked. Not human, but Other.”