The Mortal Falls

by Anna Durand

  "Skeiron would be the one to disassemble you, but only after he extracts your power."

  "Oh great." I threw my hands up and let them flop back down. "Your boss wants to suck me dry and chop me up like hamburger. I feel much better. And what's the deal with Skeiron thinking I have some kind of power?"

  He slipped his hand around mine, but his attention wandered, his eyes losing focus.

  "Nevan?"

  His gaze snapped back into focus, trained on me, and he released my hand. "I've no idea why Skeiron believes you possess great power. I've sensed something in you, suppressed and difficult to identify, yet nothing worth killing for."

  "I don't have any goddamn supernatural energy inside me."

  He canted his head. "Are ye certain of that?"

  Was I? Despite longing to say yes, I couldn't. Not anymore. "You said a lot of humans have a touch of the Unseen in them. Maybe that's what I've got, but it's buried for some reason."

  "If that were true, my enchantment would've worked."

  "Maybe you're not as enthralling as you think."

  He lips curved in a tender smile. "I believe we've demonstrated quite definitively that I enthrall you in other, non-magical ways."

  My body chose that moment to thrust me into a whirlwind, sense-memory recap of our first kiss, segueing into a replay of his mouth on my throat earlier and they way he'd licked a path down my breast.

  Nevan surrounded my hands with his and tugged me close, our hands pinned between my breasts and his torso. "You recall, don't ye?"

  His voice was a seductive murmur. I struggled not to respond, but everything inside me betrayed my wishes.

  "Your pupils are dilating," he said, "your breaths are quickening, and your body is yielding to me. Admit it. You are enchanted, in your own way, without magic."

  "If that's the criteria, you're just as enchanted as I am."

  "I'll concede the point." His voice was thick with a need rivaling my own.

  My lips yearned for his. The faint caress a second ago had not been enough. I craved full contact. His lips. His tongue. His… everything.

  Through the haze of desire, a thought surfaced. "What did you do to Travis?"

  "Nothing. I hadn't reached him yet when I sensed you were in danger and returned."

  He sensed I was in danger? I had no time to ponder the ramifications of that, because a shriek punctured the silence, ululating with blood-curdling effect.

  Nevan jerked his head in the direction of the scream.

  Another shriek resounded through the woods.

  "That's coming from the direction of the shop," I said, overwhelmed by a mounting dread. "My parents. Ash."

  Nevan hauled me into his arms and whisked us away.

  18

  We popped out within sight of the shop, behind a wide pine tree. In the parking lot, Sandy was gaping at the closed trunk of my car, hands raised. Her body impeded my view, but her shrill cries pierced my eardrums.

  I tore down the hill into the parking lot.

  Sandy's boyfriend sprinted out of the shop toward her. At the same time I reached her, he grasped her shoulders and spun her around, pressing her face into his chest, his hand cradling the back of her head.

  My shoes slipped on the gravel, tripping me up.

  Sandy pointed a trembling finger at the trunk, directly above the license plate.

  I pushed around the young couple, tiptoeing to the trunk. A dark red liquid dripped from the undercarriage onto the gravel. Crushed in the seam where the trunk lid met the car's body was a human finger.

  The world telescoped down, blackness encroaching to shut out everything except the finger jutting from the trunk of my car. The air was redolent with the stench of blood. I covered my mouth and nose with one palm, but the sheer horror of the bloody appendage and what it signified nailed me in place.

  Maybe it was only a finger, not a whole body. Maybe the finger was fake.

  "Porter! Open the goddamn trunk or I'll blast it open."

  Travis's hollering ripped me out of my panicked thoughts, but I could not look away from the blood-soaked finger.

  Nevan secured his arms around my waist, and in the back of my mind, I knew he meant to whisk me away. Numb, I wrenched out of his grasp and trudged to the driver's door. I hadn't locked the car this morning, so I swung the door out and lunged a hand under the dashboard to click the trunk release. A clunk told me the trunk had popped open. I shuffled back to Nevan, my ears ringing faintly.

  His arms came around me, pulling me into the shelter of his body.

  "Don't look, love," he said. "Please don't look."

  The stench of blood. The acrid taste of bile in my mouth. I couldn't stand here, immobilized, and wait for someone else to sort this out. It was my life on the line here.

  I broke free of Nevan, spinning around.

  Sandy fainted into her boyfriend's arms.

  Travis glanced at me, his expression inscrutable but his face a touch ashen. I imagined my face must've been pasty too, and I hadn't seen what everyone else had — yet. Travis held the trunk lid at full extension, his fingers in a death grip, knuckles white from the effort. I scuffled closer, hands locked over my belly, until the trunk's interior came into view.

  I reeled backward into Nevan.

  A dead man lay crumpled in the trunk, limbs bent at unnatural angles, as if someone had stuffed him into the space in a hurry. But the most sickening sight was not the body. The head had been cleaved from the body.

  It lay perpendicular to the neck. Blood and spinal fluid gushed out of the severed neck, filtering down through a crack in the car's metal hull to drip onto the gravel.

  The dead man's face consumed my focus. His red hair. Green eyes.

  "Oh shit," I croaked. "It's Brad."

  Travis yanked the handcuffs from his belt. They jingled as he brandished them at me, partly due to a tremor in his hands. "Got no choice this time."

  I shook my head, my gaze glued to the body. To Brad. I never even knew his last name.

  Travis stalked up to me, grabbing for my wrists. "Lindsey Porter, you are under arrest for — "

  Nevan threw his arms around me and catapulted us into the void.

  The real world winked out as we careened in a free-fall through the abysmal tunnel, tumbling out into the world again totally out of control. Nevan lost his grip on me. I ricocheted off the ground, rolling over and over. My spine cracked into a tree. Vertigo spun my head, mutating the ground into a carnival ride.

  After several seconds, the nausea-inducing motion inside my head settled down. I scrambled to my feet, a little unsteady. Nevan had come to rest a few yards away, flat on his back. I hurried to him, offering my hands. He made a face, but accepted my aid in separating his body from the ground.

  We were in the woods. Where, I couldn't tell. Wild blackberry bushes bloomed nearby, their white flowers giving off a caramel aroma. The scent soothed my nerves, but nowhere near enough to obliterate the riot of thoughts in my head. Travis planned on arresting me. I understood he had little choice, but I couldn't go to jail. Whoever had framed me before had done it again, with more conviction this time.

  Something Tris had told me resurfaced. He'd said Brad could be resurrected as long as his head hadn't been "lopped off." The snarky leprechaun couldn't be responsible for this. He had zero motive. The only one with a clear intent to destroy me was Skeiron.

  Nevan tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. "All right?"

  "I'm not going to barf or pass out, if that's what you mean." I wanted to hide under a bed somewhere, but otherwise I was peachy. "There's nothing all right about the situation, though."

  Nevan's gaze hardened, his expression too. "I will not allow the sheriff to take you."

  "He has no choice. Somebody put a dead — " The visual exploded in my mind as if I'd been hurled back in
time to relive it. Blood. Brad. Headless. Don't think about it. I slammed the lid on the memory, my panic, everything. Sometimes repression was necessary. "Who killed Brad this time?"

  "I've no clue."

  "What about Skeiron?"

  "As I said before, Skeiron doesn't muck about with corpses, much less mortal ones."

  "His Nutbar Majesty wants me dead," I said. "Disassembled, remember? This might be part of his plan."

  "To have you convicted of murder? What are you suggesting, he'll wait for you to be executed by the mortal system of justice so he might cackle at your funeral?" Nevan scoffed, shaking his head. "Skeiron is neither that subtle nor that patient."

  "Yeah, I guess you're right." I let my head fall back, staring at the swathe of blue sky visible between the treetops. Every moment, the sun descended further toward the horizon, a silent countdown to my doom. "When is sunset?"

  "When it is."

  "How terribly helpful." I slouched, drained by the day's events and by our fruitless conversation. "God, I wish I had my gun."

  "It would do you no good against an elemental."

  "Unless you can give me an endued weapon, it's the best I've got. I bet two .357 rounds between the eyes would give him a bitch of a migraine." I gnawed the inside of my lip, chewing on the problem in a literal fashion. "If I had my purse, I could check the time on my phone. At least then we'd know how long we have."

  Nevan blipped out.

  Seconds elapsed, ticked off by a gigantic, phantom clock in my head. I was about to holler for him when he reappeared in the exact spot where he'd stood a moment ago. My purse dangled off his shoulder. He held my gun, in its holster, in one hand and m two boxes of ammo in the other.

  "Wow," I said, smiling with real admiration, "I'm about two seconds away from having sex with you right here in the woods."

  Clearly trying not to smirk, he tossed my purse to me. "Perhaps we should wait until our heads are no longer in matching nooses."

  I dug around inside the main compartment or my purse for my phone. I plucked it out with an "ah-ah!"and danced it in the air in front of his face. He arched one brow and almost smiled. I checked the weather app on my phone. "Sunset is at 8:47 PM and it's 7:20 right now." I plunked the phone back in my purse. "We have a little over an hour to figure out… something."

  Nevan handed me my gun and its accoutrements. By the time I'd reloaded the barrel with .357 rounds, my insides had morphed into a simmering cauldron of all my worst fears come to pass. An innocent man had died and because of me. "Somebody wants to drive me over the edge, that's why Brad was killed. If it's not Calder's ghost, I don't know who it is. Travis is having a meltdown, maybe it's him."

  "Unrequited desires can turn into resentment, in a weak-willed man."

  "What on earth are you talking about? Travis has no desires for me."

  A muscle in his jaw ticked. "He kissed you."

  "Ugh. He was drunk."

  "You are blind to it, aren't you?" Nevan guided me toward a tree with a hand on my elbow. He sat down — back against the trunk, legs outstretched — and patted his thigh in invitation. I crawled onto his lap, unsure why, knowing only that I needed the contact. He linked his arms around my hips. "Think about it. The sheriff despises me. He knew you before you became involved with his brother and, by your own account, he became withdrawn and angry after his brother won you."

  "Nobody won me. I'm not a raffle prize."

  "You are deflecting." He gave me a squeeze, rocking my hips on his lap. "You know of what I speak."

  "Afraid I don't."

  "The sheriff is in love with you."

  "Wha — " I jerked my head back to gape at him. "That's crazy."

  Except it might not have been. When I reflected on my entire acquaintance with Travis, I recalled small clues I'd once dismissed as nothing. He had changed after Calder showed up, for reasons I never could puzzle out. He'd tracked me down in Michigan. He'd almost said he was here to protect me, before he corrected himself to say he had to protect the world from me. Travis had also pleaded with me to stay with him instead of going with Nevan, not to mention he kissed me — and begged me to forgive him for it.

  Oh God. It was true.

  I must've looked shocked, because Nevan smiled tenderly. "You see it, don't you? He is quite desperately in love with you. Can't blame him."

  Desperately. In love. With me.

  Nevan skirted my cheekbone with his fingertips. "Whatever his failings, I sincerely doubt the sheriff would harm you on purpose."

  "Who then? The murderer went out of his way to implicate me. It's got to be personal."

  He gazed into the distance, lips tight. "I do not believe your enemy is mortal."

  "You said Skeiron isn't the guy."

  "There are countless elementals in the Unseen." He lifted us both to our feet. "We should cross the veil and seek help there."

  "From who?"

  Nevan considered me for a moment, motionless, unreadable. He hooked his hands around my upper arms. "Skeiron must believe you are the Janusite."

  "What? Why?" I clutched a handful of his shirt. "He can't. I'm not."

  "It's my fault." He scrubbed his face with one hand. "When I reconsider everything Skeiron and Brennus have said, I can reach but one conclusion. Skeiron decided there is one reason and only one reason why I would shirk my duty to pursue and protect a mortal woman. You are the Janusite."

  "But you can't know that, right? You said all the girls you, uh, test have to be taken to Skeiron so he can figure out if they're the one."

  The sylph king's voice blared in my memory. Are you the one? he'd asked me. Holy hell in a giant frigging basket. He'd thought I might be the Janusite even then.

  "You are correct," Nevan said, "normally that would be the case. But I took you through the falls. Brennus witnessed it. Skeiron has no idea of where I took you or why and so, of course, he's decided I spirited you away to an oracle for confirmation you are the Janusite. And now, according to his estimation, I intend to harness your power for my own gain."

  "Why are you protecting me?"

  Bowing his head, he scratched his neck. "I don't know."

  He kept saying that, but it rang false. After I made him enchant Brad, he told me he that proved he'd do anything for me — and he swore he'd protect me from Skeiron. When he'd declared Travis was desperately in love with me, what had he said?

  Can't blame him.

  Goose bumps prickled my arms. I couldn't deal with another epiphany about one of the men in my life, not with Skeiron's deadline fast approaching. Whatever Nevan had meant, I had to put it aside for later.

  I had more urgent questions. "You mentioned an oracle."

  "Yes, the oracle is the only one who can identify the Janusite."

  "When you say the oracle, do you mean there's just one?"

  "No, there are quite a few. This oracle is the one who issued the Janusite prophecy." He frowned at the grass. "The oracle will speak only to Skeiron. No one else is permitted to know where he lives. But perhaps I can persuade a fae to aid us, for a price."

  "No bargains, remember? Bargains are bad."

  "For you, yes. I have considerably more experience in negotiating them."

  "Desperation is not a good starting place for making a deal, even I know that." I shoved my hands in my pockets. "Let's say you do bargain for the oracle's location and he deigns to speak to you. If he says I am the one, then what?"

  "One step at a time."

  "Which means you don't know."

  He growled a sigh. "For once, can ye just agree and let it drop?"

  "Maybe." I flashed back to the scene in the parking lot earlier today, when the Porter clan had arrived. "I can't leave my family hanging. They'll worry."

  "Time is running short for us."

  "We've got about an hour. Help me g
et to my family, let me show them I'm okay, and I'll do whatever you say."

  His lips crept into a smirk. "Whatever I say?"

  "Within reason."

  "As you wish." When I opened my mouth, he held up a hand to silence me. "Let me check the way is clear before I take you to them."

  "Hurry up."

  He popped out and popped back in a few seconds later. "They are in their large, wheeled home. I instructed them to lock the door, to prevent us being surprised by the sheriff."

  "You let them see you poof in?" Once was bad enough, but twice?

  "They seemed well adjusted to the concept."

  "Well adjusted? What the hell were you think — "

  He swept me into his arms and rushed us away.

  An hourglass glimmered in my mind's eye, the sand sifting away bit by bit. One hour and a smattering of minutes. One hour…

  Until my personal Armageddon.

  *****

  My mother seized me in a bear hug, clinching me hard enough I expected to hear my ribs cracking. When she finally released me, I was relieved to find all my bones intact. Nevan had materialized us right in front of my parents and Ash, without bothering to ask me if I cared where we landed. Considering what I planned to tell them, I supposed it made no difference.

  Besides, my parents and my brother acted like nothing bizarre had occurred, as if visitors blipped into their RV every day. For the first time in a very long time, I realized the benefits of having a family obsessed with the metaphysical.

  Mom grabbed Nevan's face and smacked a firm kiss on his cheek. "Thank you for taking care of our baby."

  "I am not a baby," I said. "I'm thirty-two years old. And I need to talk to you."

  Nevan's eyebrows rose when I pointed a finger at him.

  Snaring his hand, I dragged him down the little hallway into the bedroom my parents had allotted to me until I could find a new apartment. They'd been using the room for storage, but now it was filled with the remnants of my personal belongings. In the cramped space, made more cramped by my boxes of stuff, I couldn't get more than three feet away Nevan.