Bedeviled

by Maureen Child

  “Hell, no,” she said quickly. “But how’m I supposed to concentrate on my power and my destination and, oh, say, not floating away, all at the same time? I can multitask with the best of them, but that’s insane.”

  “It will get easier the more you do it.”

  “Assuming,” she pointed out with a lot of snark around the edges, “I don’t land in a demon dimension on my first try and get eaten.”

  “You won’t. I’ll help you.”

  “This just gets crazier and crazier.” Muttering under her breath, Maggie started walking. Didn’t matter where she went; she just needed to move. She was here in Sanctuary to learn. To supposedly get more accustomed to the feel of power. To embrace the Fae within, so to speak. Instead she felt as though the weight of all the worlds were crashing down on her shoulders and threatening to crush her.

  “You’re not going to draw a portal, are you?”

  “Now?” She glared at her teacher from across the room. “I’m not exactly in a ‘concentrating’ state of mind, you know?”

  “There’s not much time, Maggie,” Finn told her in that patient tone that was sooo beginning to grate. “You must learn all you can.”

  “You know what? I’m full up,” she declared, coming to a sudden stop. “That’s the problem. You guys keep stuffing me full of more and more information, and I can’t hold it all, okay? I mean, seriously, disk full already. No more information. No more training. No more practicing for a fight I don’t want to have and am in no way ready for. No more kidnapped sisters and nasty pixies. No more patient wizards and hunky Faeries.”

  “Maggie, you’re overwrought.”

  “I’m over-, under- and around wrought,” she shouted, just managing to keep from yanking at her hair. “If I don’t get out of here and go home fast I’m going to explode, and it won’t be pretty; trust me on this.” She jabbed her index finger at him from across the room and was surprised to see a tiny bolt of blue-tinged lightning flash from that finger. “Sorry; forgot about that. And see? All these powers aren’t making me safe! They’re making me dangerous!”

  “If you’ll only calm down,” Finn said, brushing at the burned spot on his white linen shirt, “you’ll see that you had excellent aim, at least.”

  “Stop being so PATIENT!” She felt her already stretched-tight nerves go that one extra notch that had them snapping inside her. “God, don’t you ever shout? Get pissy? Get flat-out, kick-a-wall furious?”

  “What purpose would that serve?” He sounded genuinely curious, and Maggie knew they would never be close.

  “That’s it.” She laughed and heard the vague tinge of hysteria in the sound. “I’m done. I can’t stay here. I can’t do any more than I have. That’s it, Finn. You’re a nice wizard and everything, but I don’t even want to look at you anymore.”

  “Culhane said that—”

  “Culhane?” Just the sound of the Faery’s name made her want to scream again. Why wasn’t he here to be yelled at? Why was she left with only a too-patient wizard to dump on? Finn wasn’t the source of her anger; she knew that, despite the fact that if she had to listen to that condescending, patronizing tone of his for much longer she was going to wring his wizard neck. “Do you really think I care what Culhane has to say?”

  “I think we should take a break,” he said carefully, keeping one eye on her as he moved toward the door. “Perhaps tomorrow we might—”

  “No tomorrow!” She took a few steps toward him, fists clenched at her sides, and noticed that the great and powerful Oz backed up real quick. “No tonight. No yesterday or next week or next year . . . School’s out, Finn. Until I see Culhane, in person, we don’t have anything else to talk about. Capisce?”

  His calm, even features went tight momentarily, and Maggie wondered if he might actually yell. Then the moment passed.

  Finn pulled in a deep breath and whipped one hand through the air. A portal appeared just to the right of him, and even from across the hall Maggie felt the power streaming from it. The air rushing from its heart was warm and smelled of the forest.

  “There. A portal to the Warrior’s Conclave. To Culhane. Go,” Finn urged, his eyes a little wild. “Speak to the warrior, and when you’re ready to finish your lessons, return.”

  “Finally.” Maggie didn’t hesitate. She didn’t even spare the wizard another look as he left the room like a man running for his life. “Culhane, you blasted Faery, ready or not, here I come.”

  Culhane’s sword clashed with another warrior’s, and he felt the sting of the blow race up his arm. Metal rang against metal, making the kind of music a warrior lived for. Sweat streamed into Culhane’s eyes, blurring his vision as he advanced and parried and advanced again.

  Wind blew over the training grounds, and the other warriors gathered together roared their battle cries. Hundreds of swords were wielded by the most fearsome fighters in Otherworld. Dust kicked up from the ground, and from the trees came the shouts and hoots of pixies watching the warriors battle-test each other.

  The practice field sat behind the Warriors’ Conclave, and a high wall surrounded the area. Here the Fae warriors honed their battle skills and waited for the call from their queen.

  Here Culhane had buried himself since Maggie had left for Sanctuary. Here he’d driven himself and his men to the brink of exhaustion. They worked, they practiced, they trained so that Culhane would have no time to remember the look of betrayal in Maggie’s eyes when she learned that he’d had her sister taken from her.

  He refused to be swayed by the echo of her fury replaying in his mind. He’d done only what he’d had to and would do again. She must see that his devotion to this plan, to the future that only she could ensure, was unwavering.

  He’d buried himself in the world he knew and tried to forget about the world she’d introduced him to. A world where he wanted a part-Fae woman enough to risk the future he was counting on.

  A crackle of sound blew up, and light speared into his eyes as a portal opened in front of him. Culhane had barely registered the fact that Maggie was stepping over the threshold when he realized that the blade of his training partner’s sword was slashing down toward her.

  He shouted a warning she didn’t catch and threw himself at her. Culhane covered her body with his as they hit the hard-packed dirt, and the violent jolt of their landing slammed through them both. He felt the swish of air as the blade sailed harmlessly past them and knew how close they’d all come to killing the very woman they needed.

  From the trees pixies applauded as if they were watching a play. But around Culhane the warriors went silent and battle play ceased. Fury and relief tangled inside him, and Culhane stared down into Maggie’s eyes and shouted, “By the halls of Ifreann, you could have been killed!”

  Even through the red haze of anger, Culhane was only too aware of her lying beneath him, her breasts crushed against his chest, her legs and hips wiggling as she tried to escape, her hair spilled across the dirt in a dark red blanket. Her eyes snapped with all the fury he felt charging inside him, and her hands shoved at his chest.

  “Get off me, you damn Faery!”

  “Woman, you don’t step into a portal without knowing where you’re going!”

  “Yeah, so Finn told me.” She shoved again, and though it had no effect on him, Culhane moved anyway, getting to his feet and pulling her up to join him.

  She brushed dirt off her jeans and out of her hair, and winced a little as she stretched her body, checking for broken bones. “He’s the one who drew up that little energy-doorway thing. So blame him for sending me here. I told him I needed to see you, and here I am. I didn’t expect a damn sword to . . .”

  Her voice trailed off as she looked around, past Culhane’s hard, cold features to the faces of the warriors surrounding her. The wind tossed her hair into her eyes, and she reached up to pluck it free. Then she shifted her gaze back to Culhane and her eyes narrowed. “I need to talk to you.”

  “Finn shouldn’t have sent you.” He g
lanced around the enclosure, uneasy with her presence. If Mab were to discover her . . .

  “No,” she agreed, stabbing at him with her forefinger. “Oh, sorry. Not used to the lightning-bolt thing yet.” She patted out the flames on his shirt, then gave him an extra slap for good measure. “This is your fault, Culhane. You tricked me. Lied to me . . .”

  Someone whistled. Someone coughed. Then the other warriors began drifting away silently, as if loath to remind her of their presence. Culhane spared them all a hard glare. Brothers in arms indeed.

  “Come with me.” He grabbed her arm and started for the Conclave.

  She dug in her heels and yanked back, pulling herself free of his grasp. She looked surprised, but probably no more than he was. Her power and strength were growing.

  “Not a chance. Not until we’ve talked.”

  “We will talk inside. Not out here.”

  “Why not? I like it here!” She jutted her chin out at him, and Culhane gritted his teeth in response.

  Had he really been thinking that he’d missed her? Had he really been tempted at night with dreams of her? With recollections of the kiss that had served only to make him even hungrier for her than he had been before? A more infuriating woman he’d never met, Ifreann take them both.

  His voice dropped as he moved in close to her. “You could be seen here by more than the pixies already enjoying the performance you’re providing them.”

  She spun around and glanced at the high branches of the trees outside the walled field. Dozens of pixies, shouting, laughing, calling names, lined the limbs of those trees like needles on a cactus.

  When she turned to face him again, he saw that she’d calmed somewhat. “Fine. Inside.”

  He grabbed her, held her close and shifted before she could change her mind again. In the blink of an eye they were standing in the center of Culhane’s home, staring at each other.

  His arms were around her, his mouth only a breath from hers. The taste of her was still rich and thick inside him, tempting him to taste again. To feel the pull of what lay between them. She looked up at him, and Culhane imagined that those eyes went soft with desire, with pliancy. Then she kicked him.

  He let her go and moved back, refusing to give in to the urge to rub his shin. “What was that for?”

  “Take your pick!” She folded her arms across her chest and tapped the toe of one shoe against the hardwood floor. “For taking my sister? For lying to me? For dumping me in Sanctuary with a wizard who’s so patient it made me insane? For not caring enough to see how I’m doing, to even bother to check in?”

  “You told me you never wanted to see me again,” he reminded her, enjoying the fire of her outburst. By the gods, he’d missed her.

  “Now you listen to me?” Walking up to him, Maggie locked her gaze with his, and Culhane saw fire in those sapphire depths. When she was close enough she fisted her hands in his shirt. “No more lies, Culhane,” she said, her voice as tight as the grip on his shirt. “No more bullshit or evasions or half-truths. From now on I want to know everything, got it?”

  “I can’t make you that promise.” He almost wished he could. But if a lie was needed, then he would use it. Culhane lived life by his own code. He couldn’t change who he was—even if he wished to, not even for her. He covered her hands with his. “I do what must be done, Maggie. I can do no less.”

  Her shoulders slumped and her grip on his shirt loosened up a little. “Yeah, I get that. I don’t like it, but I get it. And I’m getting that I have to do that, too. But damn it, how am I supposed to trust you if you keep lying to me?”

  “Maybe trust is too much to ask,” he said, his gaze moving over her features like a starving man surveying a food-laden table. He’d wanted her. Missed her. Now here she was.

  “I’m asking anyway,” she told him. The blue of her eyes darkened as she stared at him, and Culhane watched emotions flash and shift across their surfaces. “I want to trust you, Culhane. I want—”

  “I want that, too,” he admitted, his voice a hush in the quiet of the room. “I want . . .”

  Maggie Donovan was the chosen one.

  But she was more to him than that.

  She was—

  “Aunt Maggie!”

  “Ifreann!”

  Eileen’s delighted voice shattered the intimate atmosphere and had Maggie pulling away from Culhane’s grip to run to her niece. Arms empty, body burning, he watched the emotional scene and put his own needs, once again, aside.

  Grabbing Eileen up in a hug, Maggie squeezed tight and grinned. Her niece’s hair was wild and wind-blown, her eyes sparkling with excitement and her mouth turned up in a wide grin. The girl had never looked more beautiful to Maggie. “It’s so good to see you, kiddo. But how’d you—”

  Bezel jumped through the portal next and sent her an evil grin.

  “Oh.” Maggie looked at the pixie. “Of course.”

  “Did we interrupt something?” he asked with a cackle of glee riding just below his words. Sliding his glance from Maggie to Culhane and back again, he was clearly enjoying himself.

  “What are you doing here?” Culhane’s teeth were gritted tightly enough that his jaw muscles flexed when he spoke.

  Bezel shrugged narrow shoulders. “I told the kid I’d bring her if you weren’t back by morning.”

  “It’s not morning yet in her world.” Culhane’s voice was soft and dangerous.

  “Yeah. But we got bored. We ran outta cookies, and there’s nothing new on TV.”

  “Maggie, it was so cool,” Eileen was saying. “The world got all blurry and there was wind and a kind of roaring noise—”

  “That was me,” Bezel snapped. “You were pulling my hair.”

  “Oh. Sorry. Woooowwww . . .” The girl dragged a single word into five or six syllables as she did a slow turn, looking around Culhane’s home. “You live in a tree?”

  “Take her back,” Culhane ordered.

  “This is awesome,” Eileen said, wandering the room, staring out the window and shouting, “Look! More pixies! Hello!”

  “Take her back now,” Culhane muttered.

  “Oh, are those guys warriors, too? Like you and Quinn? Do they know where my mom is? Hey, you guys!” Eileen leaned out the window, waving one arm. Maggie raced across the room to grab hold of her.

  “No can do, oh Mighty Fenian Pain in My Pixie Ass.” Bezel tugged at the lapels of his velvet suit, then smoothed one gnarled hand over his silvery hair. “Got a chance to see the wife and I’m taking it. Going to spend some quality time with Fontana while I’m here,” he said, his eyebrows wriggling on his forehead like silver snakes. “Been gone a long time now, if you catch my drift.”

  “Ew.” Maggie made a face, dragged Eileen back from the window, then looked at Culhane. “I’ll take Eileen home. And I’m going with her.”

  “You can’t.”

  Maggie stared up at him and read a hunger in his eyes that she shared. Despite what he’d done, what he’d been to her, she was still drawn to him like metal shavings to a magnet. Or maybe it was more like a mosquito to a bug zapper.

  He was dangerous. Untrustworthy. With his own agenda.

  And he made her feel things she’d never known before. Made her want to feel more. Which was exactly why she needed to go home. She’d just had a big, hairy sign dropped on her head. Maybe she should listen to it. “You’re a big believer in fate, right? Destiny?”

  He nodded, still scowling, his features tight.

  “Then think about it. Eileen and Bezel showing up. Now. Just in time to stop us from—”

  “From what?” Eileen demanded.

  Bezel snorted.

  “Never mind,” Maggie told her niece, deliberately ignoring the pixie. “The point is, fate stepped in. Signs like that are pretty hard to ignore. We’re not supposed to be . . . you know. At least, not now.”

  “You mean sex?” Eileen prompted. “I’ve had the health course, Aunt Maggie, I’m not a kid.”

  “Speaking
of sex . . .” Bezel murmured.

  “No one’s speaking of sex,” Maggie told him.

  “I am. Fontana’s gonna be glad to see me,” he assured her.

  “Someone should be,” Culhane muttered.

  “Funny, Fenian.”

  “Did you know that twenty-two percent of all children who don’t learn about the facts of life from their parents end up in halfway houses?”

  “WHAT?” Maggie just stared at her. “You just said you took the health course!”

  “Yes, but families should talk about sex openly,” Eileen said, sliding an interested look at Culhane. “It’s much healthier.”