by Conn, Claudy
Trevor stood taller, and his face took on what Royce thought of as his ‘I’m a Royal Prince of the House of Lugh’ look. “The family Orb is thousands of years old. We consider it a Hallow, for it developed a life of its own. The Orb’s loyalty will always be to the family who first gave it life, the House of Lugh, but as years go by, it continues to grow and become—”
“Not interested in a history lesson, lad. What does it do?” Chance interrupted, and Royce looked away and bit her bottom lip to keep from giggling.
”Uh, we, or rather I will ask it to locate Pestale for us.”
The Orb began to glow a soft shade of amber, and Royce stared at it.
Chance stared at it as well, but Royce suddenly remembered that she had to let them in on Pestale’s near breakthrough with time travel.
“Yes, yes, it was very clever of you, Trev, to retrieve the Orb, for it may help us, but first I have to tell you both what Pestale has done.”
She turned back to Chance, who took her fingers in his firm grasp, brought them up to his sensuous lips, and looked at her intently. “Aye, then I should like to know, lass, what else besides kissing ye did Pestale do?”
“Pestale kissed you?” Trevor’s face expressed revulsion.
She waved his remark off impatiently as she pulled a face at him. Then she turned back to Chance. “Stop that … he only kissed me—”
“Only, ye say, but that is quite a bit more than he should have done!” snapped Chance, getting angry all over again.
“I’ll say,” agreed Trevor. “Arrgh—how could you let him?”
“Do you two want to know what he has done, or don’t you?”
They kept silent and waited for her to go on, so she did. “He shifted us to a place that he called ‘in between time’. Apparently he has created a dimension—don’t know what else to call it—but it is nothing more than a cloud where time stands still. He hangs out there so that he can’t be tracked, and he is working on getting through the time barrier … so that he can shift through time, using ancient black magic.”
“Are ye saying he has found a way to break through the time barrier?” Trevor shook his head. “’Tis not possible. Even Queen Aaibhe has lost that ability because of the curve …”
“Well, he hasn’t done it yet, but I have this awful feeling that he will—and soon. He was very confident.”
“Was he now?” Chance wrinkled his nose with a sneer. “And I’m still wanting to know why he took ye off alone and showed ye all this—and why didn’t ye escape him sooner?”
“I—he talked some nonsense about ruling the world and me at his side, and I stayed as long as I could bear it to find out what he was planning.” She grimaced at him and hurriedly added, “And as to why me—I am, in spite of what you think, a powerful Royal Seelie, and he no doubt believes he can entice me to his side and use my Seelie magic.”
“And were ye—enticed to his side … ?” Chance was bending to her, touching her arms with both his hands, and looking into her eyes.
She felt his penetrating blues search her face. What was he doing? What was wrong with him? Didn’t he believe her? She frowned at him. “No—how could you ask such a thing? What is wrong with you?” She shook her head and pulled out of his touch—it was so … too distracting to think when he was so close and looking so penetratingly at her.
“Right, so he is working his black magic to find a rift in time. Let’s put the Lugh Orb to work and see just where he is now,” Trevor said, calling them back to order.
“Aye then—have at it.” Chance turned away from her as Trevor took the Orb back from Royce and set it on a nearby high, flat stone.
Royce was all too aware of Chancemont LeBlanc. He sent shivers of pulsating excitement through her system, and something in the tone of his voice made her want to look at him all the time and listen to his every word.
She moved away from him, thinking she had to get some semblance of control over herself. She was behaving like an infatuated schoolgirl. Was she? Was she infatuated with him? A sigh escaped her; he was just loaded with way too much testosterone, his hormones were revving up hers, and that was much more than infatuation …
She had to get her mind off him and onto the subject at hand. She looked at Trevor, who sat cross-legged near the Orb. They followed suit and waited.
Trevor was a Prince of the House of Lugh, so the Orb would respond best to him. When it did just that, it startled Royce into a jump, for its voice was strong and clearly male. “I am the Orb of Lugh, and you are the young Prince Trevor.”
“Yes,” was all that Trevor responded, and Royce knew he was following proper etiquette.
“Yes, young Prince. Tell me what you need.” The Orb’s voice was low and self-assured.
“Well, I am not so very young—I don’t know why you have to address me that way,” Trevor objected.
Royce almost giggled and looked to find Chance rolling his eyes, but they both waited.
“You are the youngest. Prince Danté is the eldest,” the Orb answered logically and without emotion.
Impatiently, Trevor sighed and demanded, “Orb, this is important. Can you locate the Dark Prince Pestale?”
“I can locate him, yes,” the Orb answered.
Trevor grinned and looked at Chance, who gritted his teeth before he said grimly, “Then do it!”
“Shall I?” answered the Orb, addressing Trev.
He grinned and shot a superior look at Chance, who slapped him alongside his head before Trev laughed and said, “Yes, at once.”
Royce realized she was holding her breath as the Orb began to fill with colors. She released a moan of anticipation as she attempted to calm herself. Could it be this easy? It just couldn’t be this easy, could it?
And it wasn’t that easy.
The Orb worked to do its job, while waves of energy splintered throughout her brain.
A vision that began its process in the dark opened into lighter shades of gray and displayed Pestale’s face. He was laughing as he reached for someone. With a start, she realized who he was reaching for: her—he was reaching for her.
In the vision, Pestale pulled her into his arms, and she knew she was with him of her own volition. How was that possible?
She would never surrender herself to the Dark Prince. Never.
She watched as though her vision presented a stage with her as the star. She almost gasped out loud as she saw him take her into his arms and heard him whisper, “Now, my Princess—to bed!”
She jumped, and the vision was gone. She held a hand to her forehead.
Chance looked at her and frowned. “What? Ye saw something in that complicated brain of yers—what?”
“Nothing … I … nothing,” she answered and was saved by the Orb.
The rainbow colors shifted into gray, and the Orb spoke. “Here … the Dark Prince lies here …”
The three peered into the Orb, but although they could see Pestale standing and actually conversing with someone who was just out of sight, they couldn’t discern where the Dark Prince could be.
Chance nudged Trevor. “What the bloody hell? Where is he? Ask it!”
Trevor frowned at him and said, “It takes time …” but he did return his attention to the Lugh Orb and asked gently, “Orb … we see the Dark Prince, but we need to know where he is.”
“He is surrounded by black magic. He is evolving—as his father once did, losing some of himself as he gives himself over for more power. He is in the in between.”
“The in between what?” Trevor asked.
“Time,” answered the Orb.
“How do we get there?” Chance got right to the point.
“You must find the Peckering, and it will open the door,” answered the Orb.
“The Peckering?” Royce asked in surprise. Her brother had told her the tale of this Hallow, missing for so many centuries. She then was utterly surprised when the Orb directed his answer to her and said, “Yes, Princess, and it is you who holds the key t
o its location. I cannot see past the black magic that hides it.”
“I hold the key?” she said, shocked. “How shall I see past black magic?”
“Dark was the Druid who held it fast. Dark was the Druid who was taken by the black magic he conjured up, and hidden became the Peckering,” whispered the Orb before the gray mist that floated like heavy clouds inside it vanished. It glowed orange for a moment and then turned into clear glass.
Trevor tried to recall it, but it would do no more than glow to the sound of his voice and remain quietly still.
“That’s all the Orb can give us today,” Trev said on a heavy sigh. “And damn if I know what to do with what we’ve learned.”
Chance snorted; Royce assumed that he did not think much of riddle-like information they had received. However, his next words showed her that supposition was not quite right.
Chance said slowly, “Well now, ye both be too young to know much about him, but I remember the Fallen Druid very well. It was a name he earned.” He sighed and said, “We will have to consider all the possibilities. There are no easy answers, and I am not exactly sure how this information helps us. I need some time to think.”
~ Six ~
“WELL? HAVE YOU thought long enough?” Royce asked, for she could see from the way Trevor sat that he meant to let Chance draw this out, for what reasons she could not fathom. She meant to speed it up if she could.
She noted to herself that as usual Trevor was far more patient than she ever could be. In fact, she realized, they were so very different from one another it was a wonder their friendship had ever survived those differences.
She tried to control her anxiousness ‘to know’, and Chance seemed to enjoy her discomfort as he said softly, “Aye then … I suppose ye want to know about this Fallen Druid?”
“You think?” Royce returned with a frenzied movement of her hand.
“We must approach this new development carefully,” he said after a moment’s quiet.
Royce reached out, grabbed his arm, and squeezed. “Now—tell us now what you know.”
“If ye take hold of me like that with yer fine wee hands, ye must expect me to do the same …” he said to her with a look that made her want to cross her legs and close her eyes. He had a magnetism that worked her in so many ways …
“I … only grabbed yer arm …” she offered on a hushed sound.
“There is no saying where I’ll be grabbing,” he returned with a low and sexy tone that came from somewhere deep in his throat and made a shiver race up her spine.
She stared into his blue eyes—those bright blues—and then cast a glance over his face, partially shaded by his windblown blond hair. She had an absurd desire to move into his arms and kiss him. She told herself she was just frenzied by everything that had happened.
Forgotten was Trevor, who coughed and interrupted the moment. “Well, if you two are finished doing whatever it is you are doing, do you think, Chance, you could let us in on this Fallen Druid tale …?”
Chance snorted a laugh and eyed Trevor before he said, “Aye then, but I’m hungry and thirsty. Time to sit down with a pint and some food, and then we’ll talk.”
Royce sat thoughtful another moment as she watched both Trevor and Chance get to their feet. Chance turned to her and gave her his hand. “Doona ye coom with us, lass?”
She gave him her hand, and he pulled her up with just enough force to land against his body. He held her hand as he took it behind her back, pressing her against him. He bent his head to …
He is going to kiss me, she thought with a sudden tremor that spindled up her back. Right here and now and with Trev watching, because he doesn’t worry about such things. He is going to kiss me … yes, here it comes …
Instead, he whispered in her ear, “Are ye hungry, lass?”
“Um, hungry … yes …”
“Then stay close, and I’ll take ye there …”
He led them into his shift as a trickle of disappointment swept through her. He didn’t kiss me.
She felt like a schoolgirl.
She wasn’t much more than one, with little experience in the art of pleasing a man—or herself for that matter. Her time had been spent watching and forming attachments to humans. Unlike her Fae friends her own age, she had very little experience and a great deal to learn.
As they stepped out of the shift and stood before a charming pub with brightly filled flower boxes on either side of the black front door, she looked at Chance; he had still not released her hand, and she wondered if she should let him be the one to teach her.
Would he want to? He had flirted with her, he had teased, and, yes, he had kissed her, but not because he really wanted her. He had kissed her to show her she was but a female and should stay out of the fight. He had flirted for much the same reason, she believed. No, he had not really tried to romance her.
All such thoughts were put aside, however, as they entered the lively pub, took a table in a dark corner in the back of the main galley, and settled in.
Royce sighed. Fae didn’t need to eat often, but they did enjoy a good meal, and she was actually looking forward to her first Guinness of the day.
She ordered a great deal more in the way of food than either man expected, and they both regarded her in some amusement. “Ye can’t possibly fit all that food into that wee body, lass?”
“Watch me.” She laughed and then shrugged. “We burn a great deal of calories when we perform … er … magic. So I can eat two orders of chips with chocolate cake to wash it down, if I want to.”
Chance put up his hands and grinned.
Royce got up and started towards the ladies room, and Chance said softly, “I’ll miss ye till ye get back …”
Trevor rolled his eyes, and Royce snorted. “Yeah, right.”
She took a moment to look at herself in the mirror. Her red hair was tossed wildly around her face. She realized she had not toned down the variegated shades of silver and aqua of her eyes and immediately humanized them. She blinked her long, flame-colored hair into a silky mane and ran her hands over her dirty jeans—cleaning them instantly.
She took off her denim jacket; with a flick of her wrist it too was spotless and wrinkle free. She blinked away the tank top she had been wearing and replaced it with a fresh, sleeveless black cotton top that barely reached her low-waisted jeans. Royce smiled, pleased with the picture she would present Chancemont LeBlanc!
She stepped out and into a group of three men bent on having a good time. She smiled as she tried to make her way through them.
One of them, an American who’d spent most of his vacation trying out Beamish, Guinness, and various other local beers, was feeling his oats. He reached out and held her wrist to detain her. “There now, pretty lady, where are you going? Stay awhile.”
Before she could answer or handle the situation, Chance was there, stepping up to the American and saying on a low, hard note, “I woona do that if I were ye.”
“Well, you ‘woona’, but I would and am,” returned the young American, bending his head back a bit to look up the seven inches higher that Chance stood.
Royce saw from the way Chance clenched and unclenched his jaw that he was supremely irritated. She reached out to take his hand, but he didn’t notice as the young American, apparently meaning to stand his ground rather than appear a coward in front of his friends, continued his challenge. “So …?”
“So, is it?” Chance barked. “The question ye should ask yerself right now then, lad, is do ye wish to spend the rest of the week in a hospital … so … do ye?”
The American pulled a face, took half a step back, and dropped Royce’s wrist. “Well, didn’t know she was with you …” he said gruffly.
Royce was furious with Chance. He should have allowed her to handle the situation. She had been in no danger at anytime, and it was absurd of him to come off all bully-like.
Did he not think she was capable of handling such minor situations? It was infuriating. She cou
ld have extricated herself quietly and in the style she preferred without the entire pub looking on.
She stared hard at Chance and would have then stomped off before him to their table had he not immediately taken her hand and put it to his lips to lead her forward. She stiffened but did not wish to make any further scene, so she allowed him to gently guide her to their table and see her seated.
She meant to read him the riot act, but hunger won out when the waitress arrived laden with a huge tray of delicious-smelling food and started distributing it.
The pretty waitress bent very close to Chance’s face, apparently unconcerned that her unbuttoned shirt had allowed a good deal of her breasts to show as she brought her bosom close to his lips.
Royce’s mouth dropped, for Chance looked up at the pretty’s face and winked at her as he took a long dreg of his Guinness. Royce wanted to throw something wet and sticky at them both.
However, she maintained her composure, and when the waitress wiggled off with both Trevor and Chance staring after her, she cleared her throat and said, “You are both disgusting!”
Trevor and Chance exchanged ‘looks’ and laughed, and Royce applied herself to her food. However, when the waitress returned with her ketchup, she gave it to Chance, bent to him, and said softly, “I get off m’shift at nine … and I don’t live far from here …”
Royce wanted to kick her, but settled for saying, “Sorry—he is busy this evening.” She gave the waitress a crooked smile that, woman-to-woman, she would understand.
The waitress took it good naturedly and said with an inclination of her head, “What about this one? He’s hot too …”
“Is he?” said Royce with a laugh.
“Well then, what about ye, handsome … are ye busy this evening?” the pretty pursued.
Trevor grinned and answered gallantly, “Too bad for me that I am, pretty lady …”
The waitress pouted and once again left them to their meal, which Royce dived into, wondering why she should care who Chance winked at. It occurred to her that he had never winked at her …
