by Mina Carter
There were two in the corridor outside, still unaware of his presence on the other side of the door. They wouldn’t be for long. The fact they’d forced entry meant bad things for anyone in the apartment, so the sound of the running shower should draw them to him, like a magnet. Straight toward a pissed off Kyn warrior.
Reaching out, he snapped off the light. The Kyn were a nocturnal race, so he could see perfectly, if not better, in the darkness. An edge that should give him a half second advantage in a fight. And Feral was experienced enough to know that sometimes…everything hung on the first half second.
Then they were there, bracketing the door, one on either side. Feral drew in a silent breath, rolling the air over his tongue and tasting it. Male, he decided, the air tainted with the tang of male sweat and something chemically sweet. Hair gel or something.
He paused for a moment, waiting for some sign of movement from outside the door, his large hand reaching out toward the handle. There it was—the scuff of a boot over the carpet. A slight noise, but enough to warn him. Feral moved like lightening, exploding out of the room like a whirlwind. Hand on the door, he slammed it wide, hearing the satisfying crunch of bone as it connected with a nose. The scent of blood blossomed on the air, heavy and fragrant to the vampire’s senses. One down, two to go.
He ignored the dull slide and thump from behind the door and rounded on the other guy in the corridor, dodging a punch as he got his first good look at the intruders. Then the smell of hair gel made sense.
“Bloody Pixies!” Feral snarled, blocking another heavy punch and throwing a few of his own, driving the hoodie-clad Pixie back toward the main room. “When will you wanker’s get the message?”
The Pixie looked equally surprised, eyes wide, blocking Feral’s lightning-fast punches with an agility Feral begrudgingly admired. “Crap! Where did you come from? There was only supposed to be a woman and a baby in here!” the Pixie exclaimed, his eyes widening as they burst into the lit main room.
“Just not your lucky day, is it then, sunshine?” Feral grinned maniacally as he advanced, the expression making the marks across the side of his face appear even more menacing than usual. He should know—he’d practiced the expression enough. “Serves you right, sending three of you against normal people!” he added, angered beyond measure. He’d always known Pixies were damn cowards, this just proved it.
The fight continuing, the Pixie bounced off the kitchen counter. As he re-bounded, he grabbed one of the bar stools. Feral sucked his breath in, raising his arms as the stool whistled through the air towards his head. This was going to hurt. It did. Pain lanced through his arm and ribcage as the stool shattered across his block, skittering a little down his side. He hissed and shook himself, shedding bits of wood like a dog shaking water from its coat.
The Pixie looked at the end of the stool leg he still had in one hand, and back at Feral, a stunned look on his face. Feral didn’t blame him, the blow would have put most men down. Trouble was, Feral wasn’t most men. He was Kyn, and that was a whole different ball game.
“You’re beginning to piss me off now,” he growled as he grabbed the Pixie by the scruff of the neck, wrenching the broken leg away from him and throwing it aside.
Stakes might be the traditional method of dealing with a vampire, but the Kyn weren’t the traditional sort. They were demon-born. A stake through the heart didn’t kill them. It just bloody hurt and made them mad. Well, madder than usual. But then, a piece of wood sticking out of their chest would piss anyone off.
A scream from the direction of the bedrooms snapped Feral’s head up. Tessa and the baby! With a roar of fury he twirled the Pixie in his grip, half pushing, half throwing him toward the breakfast counter, slamming the guy’s face into the polished countertop.
He rebounded with a dull groan of pain, the blood from his nose splattering the pristine side. Damn it, he was still conscious! Feral knew better than to leave a conscious opponent behind. The last thing he needed was a guy he thought he’d put down creeping up behind him and stabbing him in the back.
His spread hand caught the back of the Pixie’s head like a basketball, slamming it back down. This time, his face got up close and personal with the countertop and didn’t rebound. Just slid boneless to the floor, leaving a smeared crimson trail.
“I fucking hate Pixies,” Feral muttered, flicking blood splatter off his chest and opening a knife drawer. Selecting the heaviest blade, he turned and headed for the bedrooms.
*
Tessa hadn’t argued at the hard shove toward the door, launching herself through it with speed born from fear. Someone was in the apartment! And the only thing, the only reason she could think of, was the baby. She raced through the master bedroom, grabbing and pulling on her robe as she sped through, like a small tornado.
She hit the door at top speed, screaming as it slammed open and into something solid on the other side. Something solid that swore, as the hard wood of the door slammed open unexpectedly. Desperate, and using the only weapon she had at the moment, she pulled the door back and rammed it into him again. Silently, she thanked God the main bedroom door opened outward, and the nursery door inward, as she barrelled through it, slamming it behind her.
Acting on pure instinct, she grappled with the wardrobe behind the door, pulling it until it toppled over. It crashed across the door diagonally, blocking it. Not a moment too soon. Heavy thuds and curses erupted from the other side.
Running high on adrenalin, Tessa whirled around, checking the cot which held Spud. Startled blue eyes stared back at her, then watered as he wailed, obviously scared by the sudden noises.
“Shh, shh, it’s gonna be okay, I promise,” she whispered, already looking around the room for something she could use as a weapon. She’d blocked the door but there was no way she could block the window.
She gathered Spud into her arms, trying to soothe him. “Shh, shh, little man. I need you to be quiet, okay?” she murmured, backing up and looking for somewhere to hide him. There! Under the changing unit!
“Sorry about this,” she whispered, kneeling down and shoving him as far toward the back as she could.
Just in time. As she straightened, the door crashed inward. The wood of the wardrobe, a nursery-sized one rather than full-sized, groaned in protest as she pushed it along the carpeted floor.
“Get out! Help! Help! Someone help us!” Tessa shrieked like a banshee, hoping beyond hope to wake someone up in the surrounding units. She threw things at the Pixie clambering over the wardrobe. Changing baskets and trailing nappies flew through the air and obscured his vision, but the bottles were far more effective, heavy with baby oil and lotion.
“Lisa, I’ll never complain about your stockpiling again!” Tessa promised in an undertone as she hurled bottle after bottle with bruising accuracy, grinning as the Pixie yelped and tried to cover his head with his arms. She’d always been a good pitcher as a kid. But time was running out, and she knew it. Soon, she would run out of ammunition and she had no clue what she was going to do. She was half Pixie, yes, but she was also female and small, for either species. Her grasp on magic wasn’t going to help much either, since she could only manage low level glamour, appearance, and perhaps some “fairy lights,” but that was about it.
Fairy lights. That was it! Tessa threw the last bottle, managing a clear strike on the guy’s forehead, which rocked his head back. Could she do it? She had nothing to lose by trying. Closing her eyes, she reached deep down inside herself. It was wonderful how imminent threat aided her concentration, delving into the part of her which was pure Pixie. She smiled as she opened her eyes, feeling the familiar tingle in her fingers as the Witching, the magical layer in everything, surrounded her, reacted to her.
She raised her hands, spreading them out as tiny balls of light appeared over her palms. Fairy lights, a charm to amuse children and considered a party trick and nothing more. The Pixie didn’t seem impressed, rubbing his head as he straightened and glared at her.
“Pretty, but it ain’t going to help you one bit, bitch! Hand over the kid!” he ordered, as he advanced menacingly. This was it, now or never. She tested her hold on the Witching, finding it firm, then flicked her wrists. The lights, normally benign orbs which fluttered around like fireflies, turned into something akin to wasps.
The soft buzzing around them increased to fever pitch. One broke away, the Pixie’s eyes following it, hovering higher than the rest for a moment. Then it dive-bombed, heading right for the intruder’s eyes.
“Holy shit! Get it off me!” He flapped his hands and arms as he tried to fend off the attacking ball of light, which had acquired the tenacity of a terrier. Ignoring the flailing hands, it dodged and darted in, attacking repeatedly.
That seemed to be the signal, as the floodgates opened and the rest attacked like a horde, diving and circling, completely blinding the Pixie. As he fumbled around the room, trying to shake them off, Tessa looked around for something to knock him out with.
“Fluffy toys, fluffy toys… Christ! Isn’t there anything harder than a damn marshmallow in here?” she exclaimed in frustration, running out of options…and time. The glamour she’d cast wouldn’t last forever, and she wouldn’t be able to cast again for at least an hour.
Then her gaze glided down the side of the shelves. There, tucked away in the corner, was James’ prize possession. A baseball bat signed by someone or other. Tessa grabbed it like it was a lifeline, dragging it out from the tiny gap. Palms sweaty and heart pounding, she padded toward the Pixie. Could she do it? Could she actually swing the bat and hit another living creature? She wasn’t a violent person…not really…she was all mouth and bluster.
“Argh, you wait, bitch! When I get these damn things off me, I’ll fucking gut you!” The Pixie’s bellowed threat made up Tessa’s mind for her. She drew the bat back, and closing her eyes and wincing, she swung it with all her might.
It hit with a meaty crunch, the Pixie’s threats and complaints falling silent, along with a dull thud, as something large hit the floor. Tessa opened her eyes in surprise, looking down at the prone form of the Pixie. She’d done it! She’d actually done it!
“And that one’s outta the park!”
Tessa swung around at the voice from the doorway, drawing the bat back again. An automatic reaction, ready to swing for anyone who wanted to take the baby. But it was Feral’s dark eyes that met hers, amusement in them, as he worked to clear the ruins of the nursery wardrobe out of the way.
“Oh my god, Feral!” She half squeaked, half gasped. She’d never been so pleased to see anyone in her life, throwing herself across the short distance and into his arms, the bat falling unheeded to the carpet. “Are you ok? You’re not hurt?” she asked, all but throttling him in her relief.
He chuckled, a deep rumble from low in his chest as he hugged her in return, his hands smoothing down her back, soothingly. “I’m ok. Take more than a bunch of half-assed Pixies to bother me.” He grinned, letting her go to continue clearing the doorway.
“Just remind me not to piss you off, okay?” He chuckled, nodding toward the bat on the floor and the still form of the Pixie. “Where’s the baby? We need to get out of here, like yesterday. Whoever sent this lot…well, they’re playing hardball.”
Chapter Four
The Fae Court was the Eighth Wonder of the World. Actually, the First would be more accurate, since it had formed even before Fae memory had begun, and therefore, well before human memory. And certainly before any of the structures on the traditional list had been constructed.
The Court was a law unto itself. It worked to an agenda no one living or sane could figure out. Most of the time it appeared as the archetype of a romantic court. It had high vaulted ceilings and walls made of smooth, veined marble, the veins sparkling silver as they caught the light. Light came from glowing orbs set in brackets on the walls and from will-o’-wisps twisted into glorious crystal chandeliers. It was the sort of place someone would expect a fairytale princess to come around the next corner, brushing her hair and waiting for her “Prince Charming” to arrive. But occasionally, when the Court was stressed, it appeared in different forms. A gothic castle, or even, when it was really stressed, the rough-hewn dirt walls of the barrow as it had originally appeared.
But at the moment, it was a glorious sight to rival the best of any mortal king’s palace—and one few would ever get the chance to see. It was also completely ignored by the woman who swept through the massive doorway. Slender and almost childlike in form, she had the delicate fragility of a full-blooded Fae. One of the old blood, not the new generations whose blood had been filtered by Elven or some other magical creature. There weren’t many left these days. The old lines had died out, leaving just the Seven Sisters and Mab. With the newest generation, they would be gone. Though it was hard to worry so much when a generation could span thousands of years.
She stormed into the large, high-ceilinged hall, her face like thunder. With an imperious wave she ordered the door closed, ignoring the servant who scurried to do her bidding.
“So you failed. Why am I not surprised?” Although her appearance was ethereally beautiful, and the aura that surrounded her invoked feelings of goodness and awe, the voice that issued from the perfect cupids bow of her lips, however, was as sharp as a whip. And twice as venomous.
She stalked in front of the three Pixies sent to recover the Morrigan child, forced to their knees by her guards. All three trembled as she approached. A small smile curved her perfect lips as she switched the hem of her white gown away from their knees, worried about marking the pristine hem.
Fearful, just the way she liked them. Closing her eyes for a moment, she savoured the fear that oozed from their skin. She shivered—such a delicious treat!
“Do you know how much energy it cost me to get that brat separated from its parents?” Her voice sharpened as the initial hit from their fear wore off and she recalled their failure.
To a man, Pixie or Fae, everyone in the room avoided the gaze of the princess. The Pixies held before her, the guards doing the holding, as well as the gaggle of Pixies huddled in the corner. Her Pixies, to do with as she wished, after their fool of a Warlord tried to put one over on her, but ended up trapped by Fae law. She’d gloried in taking his pack, and his flesh, for the insult. Pixie flesh and blood were powerful. She hadn’t needed to feed for weeks after the Pixie Warlord had shared her bed.
A mutter from one of the kneeling Pixies drew her attention and she leaned forward. “What was that?” Her voice was a sharp demand.
“It wasn’t our fault!” the “leader” of the trio complained, daring to look up. His bravado didn’t last long and he looked down again, visibly quaking.
“There was a Kyn guy there, a warrior,” he muttered. “We were only expecting the woman and the baby,” he added, flinching, as though expecting a blow.
“Excuses, excuses! Always bloody excuses!” she exploded, seething in anger. If it wasn’t the bloody nanny, suddenly developing a conscience and dropping the brat off on the first Pixie doorstep she could find, it was this bunch of incompetents. A bloody Kyn indeed. Like she believed that!
“Do I have to do everything around here myself? Do not answer that, Talven!” she ordered sharply as her Guard Captain looked up, a frown on his handsome face.
That was the trouble with some of these half-breeds. Pretty to look at, but very much a case of “the lights were on but no one was home.” Talven, a Sidhe half-breed, fit that description “to a T.” The hopeful expression in his eyes bolstered her feminine ego while also irritating the hell out of her. If she were to kick him, she was sure he’d thank her.
She tutted under her breath. “Get these idiots out of my sight,” she ordered, with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Get them cleaned up and sent to my chambers. I’ll deal with them later.”
The low moan from one of the trio, while they were hauled to their feet, got her attention. But not as much as the fresh wave of terror that rolled towa
rd her. She held out her hand, an unspoken order to stop as she stepped forward.
The sound had come from the youngest. Barely in his twenties with smooth, handsome features, and a strong, well-muscled body. He had the sort of looks that fired her interest, her body awakening as it felt the pull of attraction.
“Oh, don’t worry.” Her voice was a soft croon as she moved closer to press against him, nestling her slender body along his. He flinched, trying to move away, but the hard hold of the guards held him immobile. “There, there,” she murmured, her voice soft and loverlike as she stroked the side of his jaw. A fine tremor racked his body as she leaned in, to lay a gentle kiss on his lips.
“It’s all going to be fine, I’ll be gentle with you, I promise,” she assured him, a promise which didn’t seem to console the young Pixie. Faced with what she assumed was one of his worst nightmares wrapped up in a breathtakingly beautiful package, his breathing was panicked, his eyes wild as he looked at anything but her.
Growing tired of the game, she reached out and pulled his jaw around. He struggled, but she was far stronger than her delicate appearance should allow, even for a Fae. She caught his forest-green eyes with her own dark gaze. “We’ll have ourselves a good night you and I,” she whispered.
His terrified moan, more animalistic than anything, echoed around the chamber. At the same moment, a hot, acrid smell assaulted her sensitive nostrils. She leapt away, pushing off from his broad chest, her nose wrinkling in distaste as a dark stain spread over the front of his trousers.
“Oh for heaven’s sake! Get them out of my sight!” she hissed in annoyance. What was it with men these days? She longed to find a real man, not one that lost control of his bodily functions when she so much as looked at him. One who would stand up to her…
