by R. J. Blain
The pixie gave a little frown and dropped down so her feet touched the ground. She walked beside Mal, though it was more of a floating glide.
“You wish to speak to me?”
“Mostly I didn’t want you to get attacked going back to the grotto.”
“Ilem waits for me.”
“Who’s Ilem?”
“My cousin.”
Nayena could probably say that about her entire clan. In fact, everybody was probably an aunt, uncle, or cousin.
“We nested together as younglings,” Nayena explained. She tapped her fingers on a full pouch at her waist. “He likes chocolate and sweets. I have brought him some egg-lairs.”
Mal smiled but didn’t correct her. “Do you suspect anyone in particular of trying to stop the wedding and the alliance?”
“It will not be pixies who are responsible.”
Her certainty startled Mal. “Why not?”
Nayena’s smile was impish and also a little scary. “We would have already killed. We would have done this long ago and not wait. We would be devious, and we would work quickly and silently.”
Mal thought about that for a moment. “You’re suggesting that whatever is going on is a statement of some kind, not just an effort to stop the alliance. The killers want it to be splashy and they may even want to take credit.”
The pixie fluttered her wings and twisted magic between her fingers. “They wish an audience.”
She was right. Mal would be willing to bet on it. She’d also be willing to bet that the choice of when depended on just what the bad guys wanted to stop. If Coorsel and Nayena got married, but she wasn’t made virdana and thus they didn’t have their own clan, then the pixies might take in the small giants and they’d continue on together with a crippled alliance. If the wedding was attacked, not even that much could happen.
So it all boiled down to… what exactly were the bad guys after?
Chapter Eleven
Because she had done quite a number of jobs requiring elegant clothing for every occasion, Mal had a closet full of designer clothes and a dumpster-load of shoes. As she eyed her choices, she realized that this was the first time she’d been able to dress up for Law since she’d come to Effrayant.
That first day she’d arrived and discovered he was the resident exterminator, she’d been tracking down an incubus. She’d put on a slinky sheath dress with a slit up to her hipbone, no back, and very little front. To bait a sex demon, one needed to dress like bait.
She’d only managed to catch Law. She smiled at the memory. He’d dragged her off to someone’s office. Emotions had been running high, and in the middle of a fight, they’d given into an inferno of need and he’d banged her while standing up against the wall. It had been raw and real, and she hadn’t realized it then, but that’s when he’d really broken through her defensive walls.
After that, she couldn’t have left him. Her body had realized, even if her brain hadn’t gotten there yet, that his need for her was as great as hers for him and they were meant to be together. It was going to be worse to leave than to stay and let him in.
That didn’t mean the opening up and letting him in wasn’t damned awful sometimes.
She sorted through her options, deciding she wanted something that would tease the hell out of him. She had the perfect shoes—a combination lace and strappy leather five-inch heels. She paired them with a dress that covered enough to be respectable, while still revealing a whole lot of not-quite-forbidden territory.
It had a high neck with sheer black lace covering her chest. It gave way to a black silk panel that fell to her feet in watery folds. In back was a similar panel. The raciness came from the fact that front and back were held together by more of the sheer lace. It exposed her from the sides of her breasts to her feet. A bra and panties would only ruin the effect, so Mal went without. The dress clung lovingly to her curves, leaving little to the imagination. Once she put on the shoes and added light makeup and a tousled hairstyle, she looked like a wet dream. Law’s wet dream, she hoped.
She donned a pair of opal earrings and a couple of wide silver cuff bracelets, dabbed on a hint of citrusy perfume, and grinned at herself in the mirror. She might end up in the middle of a civil war, but she was going to look damned good going in.
The prewedding reception had just begun when she arrived in the courtyard. It was lit with tiny colored witchlights. Numerous tables and chairs and couches and other furniture designed to accommodate all sorts of species were scattered through a variety of little nooks made private with flowers, bushes, pools, fountains, and vines.
The area surrounding the silk-sided pavilion contained several dance floors, buffet stations, bars, and a number of magical edibles and potions stations. Ethereal music played from nowhere. None of your typical wedding music. No conga lines, no Macarena. Mal grinned. She’d have killed to see the big giants doing the chicken dance. Maybe a little line dancing.
Though giants and pixies made up the bulk of the attendees, a surprising variety of other species had opted to attend. As allies? Enemies? Maybe just rubberneckers. Or paid assassins.
Oh goodie, more suspects on the list.
She joined the flow of people, scanning each one, though what she was looking for, she didn’t know. Everyone was dressed to the nines in rich fabrics, a lot of precious metals, and traditional clothing from their various cultures. Regular weapons weren’t allowed by LeeAnne’s dress code, but many wore supposedly ceremonial weapons. Mal was willing to bet most were razor sharp, dipped in poison, or enchanted. Lethal, at any rate.
She noted that quite a few of the large female giants in attendance wore nose rings with different charms hanging from them. A lot of virdanas, which meant a lot of magic. Most looked grim. Maybe they were just hungry. Maybe they had PMS. Maybe they were planning a murder.
She didn’t see any signs of Nayena or Coorsel. Most of the pixie guests stayed separate from everyone else, flying up high, where perches had been placed for their comfort.
Once inside the pavilion, Mal skirted along the exterior of the polished pink granite floor as she scanned the crowd. The place was a faery bower of sparkling lights, an artful mix of flowering vines woven through and around broad tree limbs that spread beneath the pavilion canopy, with swaths of silk gathered in ballooning loops before flowing to the floors to create little private areas. Sitting areas designed for every variety of guest lined the outer silk walls. Large fountains tumbled high into the air, and servants patrolled with food and drink. Nectar stations hung throughout for the pixies.
A round granite stage occupied the center of the huge space. Unlike every other surface, this granite was undressed and unpolished. It stood about five feet off the ground. The wedding would be performed there. Mal searched for Coorsel and Nayena but still saw no sign of them. Her brow creased. She didn’t like this.
She didn’t see Law either. She hadn’t seen him all day. He hadn’t even come back to put on his tux. She wondered if he’d uncovered any information concerning the giant murders, or who had instigated the brawl. He’d have called her if he had. Or texted her. She frowned. He would have.
Why wasn’t she convinced?
She sighed softly and told herself to focus on the reception and wedding. She and Law had plenty of time to sort things out, so long as she didn’t panic and run, or panic and blow everything up, or panic and hide… Huh. She was sensing a theme.
She made her way around the platform, taking in the guests. The drink and other mood enhancers were being consumed quickly. She expected LeeAnne or Law had laced them with happy spells, but that wouldn’t entirely offset obnoxious personalities. It would only file down the edges. And it wouldn’t convince anybody not to commit murder if that was their plan.
She chewed her lower lip. Or mass murder, for that matter. Blowing up everybody to get at the bride and groom would work just as well as a surgical strike.
God damn it, where was Law?
Hands fell on her hips as t
he man in question pulled her back against his hard body. He bent, his voice rough in her ear.
“What in the fuck are you wearing? My balls are about to rupture.” He ground lightly against her.
Sure enough, he was either carrying a steel rod in his pocket or he had a serious hard-on. Mal’s lips curved. Mission accomplished.
His hands slid up her ribs, his fingertips sifting softly over the exposed curves of her breasts before he slid his hands back down.
“Christ on a cracker. You aren’t wearing any underwear, are you?”
“It ruins the effect of the dress,” Mal confirmed.
“So I could just lift it out of my way, bend you over a table, and have my evil way with you?”
“That might be unprofessional,” Mal said, wiggling her butt and pushing back against him.
He groaned and his fingers dug into her hips. “You’re killing me, woman.”
“Uh-oh. However will I manage this awful ache between my legs if you’re dead?” She looked up at him, blinking innocently.
He growled. “You know that turnabout is fair play. I will torture you.”
She grinned. “If you insist.”
He laughed and brushed her lips with his, kissing along her cheek to her ear, where he nibbled and sent shivers racing through her. The ache turned into an inferno.
“Just do me one favor.”
“What’s that?”
“Wear this until I can take it off you.”
“I can do that. If things go smoothly tonight.”
He sighed and rested his forehead against her head. “The odds of that are bad and really bad. Something’s definitely brewing.”
“I’m just hoping it’s not a bloodbath. I’d really hate to see this dress ruined.”
“I’ll buy you another. Hell, I’ll buy you a dozen in different colors, and you can wear them around the apartment.”
“You might find it distracting.”
“You’re damned right I’ll find it distracting, but at least then I’ll be able to do something about it.” He bumped his hips against hers again.
Before she could respond, an angry rumbling of voices sounded from the other side of the granite stage.
“To be continued,” Mal said regretfully, easing away from Law. “We’d better go see what that’s about.”
Law swore, his hands tightening on her hips. Abruptly he pushed himself away, shaking himself as he strode off. Mal followed, admiring the way Law’s tuxedo wrapped him. His ass looked edible. Woof.
Chapter Twelve
What they found on the other side of the granite stage was a good old-fashioned pissing contest. A group of large and small giants faced off against a group of large giants. They were arguing and insulting each other in English and their own language, with what sounded like progressively ruder insults. Finally one hit a really sore nerve, and his target, a small giant, swung her fist and clocked him in the side of the thigh. He staggered, bellowed, and tackled her, smashing her to the floor.
The rest jumped in, and it turned into a melee. For about ten seconds. Then the floor swallowed them up. One minute they were there; the next, they’d been sucked down, leaving behind an unmarred floor. Several onlookers protested and looked annoyed, and a dozen other giants descended, clearly eager to join the fight.
Law had other plans. He stepped into the middle of the now empty space and raised a hand to settle everyone down. When he had everyone’s attention, he spoke.
“If you wish to engage in any sort of physical contest, you may do so in the space provided down the brick path out that way.” He pointed. “No magic is permitted within that space. Anyone starting a fight here will be ejected from Effrayant. Do I make myself clear?”
His voice carried throughout the entire pavilion and beyond. He stared at a group of four big virdanas who now approached him. They surrounded him like four sequoia trees around a sapling.
“This is unacceptable. We are allowed to defend ourselves, anywhere, at any time,” one declared in squeaky voice.
“We will not tolerate insolence,” another said, her long, curly hair wrapped in a netting of sparkling gems.
“As I said, you can take it out the brick path if you feel the need to be physical,” Law said, uncowed by the way they loomed over him.
“Without magic,” a third one said in disgust. “We do not agree to have our hands tied. That is not our way.”
She made the mistake of balling up her fist and lifting it. All of a sudden, the four dropped until they were hip-deep in rock, with several arms and elbows trapped as well. Now it was Law’s turn to tower over them. His expression turned glacial.
“Your protests are noted. The rules stand as given. Do you understand?”
“You are not so powerful, little man,” said the one virdana who’d not yet spoken. She had her arms folded, so they hadn’t been caught in the rock.
She’d dressed simply, wearing a close-fitting azure gown, tailored to fit her ample curves perfectly. Her red hair curled tight and short against her head, and her eyes were coppery blue, like pennies in the ocean. Her skin, like most of the giants’, was a reddish clay color and silky smooth. Her gown fastened to her torque, which was blue and white. A chain of glittering diamonds hung down the middle of her naked back, splitting apart where it touched her dress and following the edges of it back up along her sides and along her breasts to where it fastened to the torque.
Her nose ring held a diamond teardrop surrounded by sapphires. She wore no obvious weapons, ceremonial or otherwise.
Mal edged closer as others in the crowd did too, sensing a confrontation coming and wanting to see the fireworks. Everybody always wanted to see the bloody disasters up close and personal. People were all the same, no matter their species.
Law turned to look at the virdana, who, having made her rude observation, was waiting for his return volley.
“Perhaps I am not so powerful,” he agreed. “But I am more than sufficient for you.”
Her eyes narrowed as she considered. Her response seemed off. The other three were clearly angry and antagonistic, but this one—she was… patient. Like a sniper biding her time until she strikes.
Her body shimmered and blurred, blue mist swirling around her. For a moment, it formed the shape of a huge dragon that wriggled up out of the constraints of the floor. The light vanished and once again the giant towered over Law. She eyed him a moment, the corner of her mouth pulling up in a sly smile, then turned and walked away without a word. She didn’t need to say anything. She might as well have declared war.
She was part of whatever was going to happen tonight. She’d just dared Law to stop her.
He watched her go then turned back to the other three, who had quieted and now waited, expressions closed. Mal couldn’t tell if they might know what the other one was up to or not. Or maybe they had their own thing going on. Just because a lot of the big giants wanted to stop the wedding and alliance didn’t mean they were all working together. There could easily be a dozen or two different plots in the making. Who was she kidding? There probably were.
Law freed the other three. “Do enjoy the evening,” he said sardonically as he returned to Mal.
Music began to play again, and conversations hummed through the pavilion.
“There’s going to be trouble,” he said, eyes narrowed as he scanned the room. “That virdana is up to something, and she’s confident I can’t stop her.”
“I got that too,” Mal said.
Something in her voice caught his attention. He looked at her sharply.
Her brows rose. “What?”
“You’ve got that look.”
“What look?”
“Like you’re going to take risks you shouldn’t.”
Mal grappled her irritation before it could escape. Clarity first. Then she could decide if she was going to be mad or not.
“What risks are those, and why shouldn’t I take them?”
Something flickered in his eyes,
and his shoulders tensed. She could feel him pulling inward and thinking. Walking on eggshells again.
“Just say it,” she said. “I might be mad. Deal with it.”
“Will you? Deal with it, I mean? Because I’ll probably get mad back and say things you don’t want to hear. You’ve got a shitty history of taking off when things get tough.”
Mal flinched and took a step back. Not that it wasn’t true, as she’d admitted earlier in the day, but she’d been trying really hard not to close up on him or back away. Earlier she’d promised she was in it for the long haul, and to reward her, here he was smacking her in the face with the great big cast-iron frying pan of guilt.
Law grabbed her arms. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”
Mal stared at his chest, trying to make sense of what she was feeling, but everything inside her was spinning wildly and she hurt and wanted to strike out, and it was taking all of her willpower not to do that. She didn’t want to hurt him. Not really. She loved him and you don’t go around deliberately hurting the people you love. That’s the opposite of love.
“No,” she said slowly. “You did meant it because you said it, and you don’t say things you don’t mean.”
He gave her a little shake. “I didn’t mean it. Or maybe I did. A little. Shit.”
He let go of her to run his hands through his hair then settled his hands gently on her shoulders, waiting until she looked up to meet his eyes.
“Mal, I can’t lose you. That’s the one concrete thing in my life that everything else depends on. That fact gives everything else gravity and oxygen. I’m still feeling like all of this is too new and fragile and that I’ll fuck it up if I even sneeze wrong. One minute everything seems like it’s going good and I’m feeling high as a fucking kite, and then out of nowhere, I start to think the ice under my feet is cracking and my world is about to collapse again and you’ll be gone. It’s not reasonable. I know it. But I can’t seem to help it. It’s going to take me some time.”
The last was said on a pleading note for her to give him that time, to not give up on him.
