by Emma Holly
Then again, "easy" wasn't what he'd call this experience. The fear spells were just as skin-crawlingly awful as he remembered from boyhood punishments. It wasn't until the rain of rocks began, however, that he realized he might have underestimated his mother's zeal for scaring Zoe off.
"Wait!" he cried in his beloved's voice, his fear not as pretend as it had been before. "Can't we talk about this? Maybe I could just see Magnus on weekends."
"No you couldn't!" three minions roared in unison.
Their native realm was a hell dimension, neither Earth nor Fairy. Where they'd gathered, a flaming void had opened in his bunker's dome. To make the thin spot more inviting, Magnus had scraped away its protective layer of amethysts. The sound that rumbled steadily from the hole was like an evil electrical generator, and it wasn't long before he wished he'd made the opening smaller. He could see new elementals arriving by the minute, flashing their razorlike white teeth as their bloodlust rose. If Magnus didn't find a way to calm them, they were going to do more damage than he could heal. Already he was bleeding from a dozen wounds, his concentration strained from fighting off the artificial terror.
Had Zoe truly been here, she would have been scarred.
"All right," he said, judging the time had come for capitulation. "I will give Magnus up. No man is worth this much grief."
"We don't believe you," the minions chortled, a sound more like rusty chains than laughter. "We can smell fear, and you're not half as afraid as you ought to be!"
Magnus was wishing for his own "in" with Zoe's angels then. Sweat was rolling down him in the now airless atmosphere, stinging everywhere the rocks had broken skin.
"I don't need to be more afraid," he said. "I'm smart enough to cut my losses."
"We'll show you losses," the minions said just as something small and silver flashed through the air.
Magnus raised his forearm defensively. The flash came from an arrow tipped with fairy steel, a metal native to his homeland. He barely registered the slice it made before a second volley of shafts followed. Magnus was stronger than most humans and could heal quickly, but this particular metal demolished his defenses. Where he'd been trickling blood before, now it poured.
Dizziness rose with alarming swiftness. His legs gave way and dropped him to the fluorite floor. The size of the puddle his knees squelched in wasn't comforting.
"Stop," he gasped. "You don't have to do this."
The minions laughed uproariously. "Where are you big stuff angels now?" they said. "Don't you humans know other tricks?"
Help, Magnus thought, though he doubted any was coming. He'd made Samuel cross his heart and promise to stay away, unsure how safe the little fey would be. Now he saw that might have been a mistake. His vision had begun to fade, darkening around the edges like a tunnel contracting.
The lead minion looked behind its own foggy shoulder, the other elementals parting so it could see. A mirror seemed to hang in the flames behind it, its surface rippling like water. Magnus's stomach did an unpleasant flip. He recognized his mother's scrying pool.
"Your Graciousness," the minion said as Titania's always lovely image appeared. "The human's strength is flagging. Do you want us to finish her?"
Magnus had a heartbeat to identify himself. He doubted his mother would kill him. Even the hope of his support strengthened her power base. But if he told her, she'd never let Zoe be. He had to keep up this pretense, even if it cost him his life.
His mind became very calm. He was aware that Zoe wouldn't thank him for doing this. Her heart was so big, so forgiving that she wouldn't wish her worst enemy to sacrifice himself for her—much less someone she loved. The truth was, though, that this wasn't a sacrifice for Magnus. He knew as clearly as Zoe did that death was only a change of state. He'd lived many years on the material plane and had fulfilled more dreams than he could count. Zoe was a baby compared to him. She deserved to finish what she'd come here for, whatever that was… with whomever she chose.
Love expanded inside him until his heart seemed ready to burst his ribs. His natural possessiveness fell away like some old suit he had no use for. He wanted Zoe happy. He wanted her well. And he'd never felt so purely joyous as the moment he decided to give up everything for her. In the beautiful hum of his elation, he barely heard his mother's words.
"Do it," she said.
A second later, the tunnel of his vision shrank to black.
* * *
Chapter Eighteen
"He's not here," Bryan said, having peered in all the windows of Magnus's house.
Zoe should have been glad to put off what was sure to be an awkward—not to mention bizarro—confrontation. Instead, she felt like something painful had squeezed her heart, like more than her romantic prospects depended on finding Magnus soon. She found herself wishing they hadn't slept so late. Saturday or not, her instincts told her this couldn't wait.
"He has a sweat lodge on his property," she said. "We should check that."
"It's ninety degrees out," Bryan objected. "Although, who knows how hot fairies like to be. Sheesh." He ran both hands through his rumpled hair. "I just wanna tell you guys, I'm not ready for more weird stuff."
Unable to promise this visit would be weirdness-free, Zoe pointed out the beehive dome of Magnus's getaway. It stuck out of the ground maybe thirty yards away from where they stood.
The three of them set off, each with a private sigh. Alex's face was stiff and Bryan's weary. Zoe didn't even want to know how bedraggled she looked tramping across the desert in her short red dress and her hooker shoes.
Halfway there, vertigo kicked her in the small of her back. She stumbled and went down, saved from pitching on her face by Alex grabbing her elbow.
"Hey," said Bryan, beside her, too. "You okay?"
"Too much sun," she mumbled, though they'd only been in it a few minutes. "I'm okay. We need to keep going."
Alex gave her a look that said he knew something was up, but he hauled her onto her feet all the same. The closer they got to the sweat lodge, the worse she felt, hot and cold and like she was seconds from passing out. All her brain would focus on was that she needed to reach that lodge.
"Let me carry you," Alex said the third time she tripped. "Bryan, you get the door."
"Are you sure?" Bryan asked. "She looks like she'd be better off waiting in the car with the AC on."
"Call Michael," Zoe begged in a whisper against Alex's neck. "Call him like you know he's going to come for you."
"Archangel Michael?" Alex's eyes were round, and Zoe knew he was going to balk.
"Call your Uncle Henry then. He'll pass the message to anyone you want."
Alex set his jaw, but this help he could believe in. "Uncle Henry," he said firmly. "We need assistance. Angels, please, if you can get them to come."
Bryan had been tugging ineffectually at the sweat lodge's door. At Alex's words it burst open.
"Shit," he said. "More damn rocks."
"Carry me down there," Zoe said to Alex. "We'll be okay. I can feel the angels surrounding us."
"Guys!" Bryan called from the belowground chamber in a strange, tense voice. "I think you need to see this."
Alex carried her down the steps into the dimness. At first, all she could see was the flickering hellfire up in the ceiling. That was startling enough, but then she noticed the slim, still figure lying on its side on the rock-strewn floor.
That sight clutched her throat in a fist of ice.
"It's you," Bryan said, gasping a bit in the stifling air. "That body looks just like you."
Zoe scrambled out of Alex's hold. No matter how the body looked, she'd recognize that energy signature anywhere. She fell to her knees beside it, dimly registering the odd flooring. The figure who resembled her was bloodied all over, its skin ghostly pale in the daylight slanting down the steps from outside. Arrows bristled from its front like a pincushion.
"Magnus," she said, somehow finding the strength to lift his shoulders onto her lap. "Oh, God, what
have you done?"
The moment she pressed her lips to his forehead, his disguise shivered and fell away.
"No," said a shocked female voice. "No! You didn't make me attack my son!"
Whoever the voice belonged to, Zoe didn't need the angels to banish it. It disappeared with a cry of aggravated horror, taking the circle of hellfire along with it.
At the moment, Zoe was too worried to be grateful.
"I feel a pulse," Alex said, crouching on Magnus's other side to press two fingers to his neck. "I think we got here in time."
Magnus's body shuddered like an earthquake.
"You did," he croaked. His lashes were stuck together, and his eyes struggled to open. When they did, they shone green as emeralds in his bloody face. Zoe gasped, the glow of his irises too bright to be imagination. The light turned the red that painted his features to a brutal mask, though it left his beauty oddly undimmed. Seeing her amazement, Magnus swallowed painfully. "I guess maybe you have a few questions about this."
"Hush," Zoe urged, not daring to stroke his cheek, he was so cut up. Her heart was breaking for his injuries; to have him hurt was to hurt herself. Tears began to roll unstoppably down her face. "Alex figured out you were a fairy. He found some old newspaper stories about men riding through the falls. You just lie still, and we'll call for help."
Bryan was already digging out his cell phone.
"No," Magnus said in a voice so firm it caused all of them to blink. "I can heal this quicker with no doctors watching. All I need is rest and orange juice. And to get these arrows out."
"I'll get the juice from your house," Bryan said, obviously eager to be out of there. "And a blanket in case you're in shock."
Magnus was shivering in her lap, his torso as heavy as a load of bricks. He closed his eyes and got heavier. "I can't believe you found me."
"I can't believe you were trying to convince your mother you were me! That is what you were doing, isn't it?"
His hand found her upper arm and squeezed. "You deserve more of this lifetime, love. You've hardly made a dent in it."
That made her cry harder. "You're an idiot. I have defenses."
"Not against my mother. She's rather more bloodthirsty than you're used to."
"No kidding." Zoe sniffed and dashed her tears away angrily. "Tell me the truth now, Magnus—no stories. Is your being from Fairy the reason you and I couldn't… be intimate the way I wanted to?"
He opened his eyes to smile at her with them, seeming relieved to be asked. "I made a magical agreement, so I could stay in the human realm. I had to win a new heart with each full moon and then give it back. I knew if I took yours, I'd want to keep it. I knew I'd never want to sleep with anyone but you. I would have been sent home as soon as the month ran out. I might never have seen you again."
"So when I thought you didn't trust me, that you didn't love me—"
Magnus took her face between hands that were sticky with his own blood. "I'm so sorry that's what you thought, so sorry I caused you a moment's pain. My heart was yours the day I laid eyes on you. Those other women were all that allowed me to be close to you."
"You could have told me the truth!"
"And risk enraging my mother?" Magnus shook his head. "I can't regret anything I did to keep you from facing her."
Zoe had to bite her lip to still its trembling. Maybe it was too soon, but the words I love you were an explosion waiting to break free. Magnus saw them in her expression, and his smile deepened. His beautiful, glowing eyes said everything she'd ever longed to hear from him. He loved her, too. No matter what appearances had suggested, it was there in his warm green gaze.
"Not to break this up," Alex said in an acid tone, "but what are the chances your mother is going to try for Zoe again?"
Magnus waited a beat before shifting his gaze to him. "I don't know. Realizing she almost killed her son may shock her out of more attempts for a while."
"For a while." Alex shook his head, his sea-blue eyes as hard as Zoe had ever seen them. "I'm sorry, Mr. Fairy Guy, but that's unacceptable."
"Zoe is as protected as any human can be."
"And you wouldn't, oh, I don't know, just go home like your mother wants?"
"Alex!" Zoe's cry drew neither of the men's attention from their stare off. "Magnus almost died for me."
"Magnus put you in danger in the first place."
"It's all right," Magnus said, touching her arm before she could speak again. "He deserves an answer more than most. I don't go home because my mother wants me to shore up her shaky rule. One faction would love that. Another hopes I'll depose her—preferably violently. The remainder would like it if I magically split the realm so that nobody ever has to meet anyone who disagrees with them. That was my father's choice, and, given the current situation, I can't say it worked. People simply find new things to fight about. At the moment, I appear to be the only one who knows the cure for Fairy lies not with me, but within each individual fairy heart."
"Which means what?" Alex said, his arms flexing with muscle as they crossed atop his navy polo shirt.
Magnus seemed to recognize the posturing for what it was. The corners of his mouth curved up. "It means magic should be shared and not hoarded. The universe makes room for every fairy's wishes to come true. If everyone understood that, Fairy could support a hundred thrones, including my mother's. But they'd rather believe one person or philosophy must reign supreme, and so they split into parties and sharpen their swords. Live and let live is not a model they understand."
Wincing slightly, Magnus shifted until he sat higher in her lap. With a grunt of effort, and a ruthlessness that made Zoe blanch, he pulled the most uncomfortable of the arrows from the ridged belly muscle where it had lodged. He panted for a moment before continuing. "I cannot rule my people because, in my heart, the only person I believe I have the right to rule is me."
"You could tell them that," Zoe said.
"Love," Magnus said gently, "I lived in my homeland for centuries. Everything I've told you, my people have heard from me and others more eloquent. Change will come one fairy at a time, when and if each chooses."
"A convenient attitude," Alex observed, but not as confidently as he had before. It was, after all, difficult to scold a man who looked more like St. Sebastian than the poster boy for selfishness.
Magnus smiled as gently at Alex as he had at her. "Perhaps we should table this debate for another time. I doubt any of us want to be here if those minions return."
The debate was tabled altogether, in being all too obvious that Zoe and Magnus wanted to be alone. Alex drove himself and Bryan back to their new hotel, where his grumpiness was not improved by what they encountered in the blandly modern lobby.
Admittedly, Alex's last progress report had been a little vague—and wasn't likely to get clearer, given today's events—but he hadn't expected to find Mrs. Pruitt living in wait for them. She looked ten years older than when they'd seen her last, and she hadn't been her freshest then. Circles shadowed eyes that were tired beyond what sleeplessness could cause, and her clothes—jeans and a pastel sweater set—were creased from traveling. The only real snap of life about her was her thin-lipped frown. She was pissed, Alex saw, and gearing up to get pissier.
Far more troubling than her mood was little Oscar's presence. Mother and son both slid from the lobby's blockish ecru chairs when they caught sight of him and Bryan.
"About time," huffed Mrs. Pruitt, as if he and Bryan were late for an appointment.
"Mrs. Pruitt," Alex said, going into soother mode.
"Oh, can it," said Mrs. Pruitt. "Your nicey-nice GQ manners are about as much use to me as that damn report."
"Your case is hardly straightforward," Alex reminded her. "We're doing what we can."
"What you can!" she repeated, the words sharp enough to catch the attention of nearby guests. She lowered her voice, though her temper clearly remained at full volume. "And while you do what you can, what am I supposed to do with him? Ever sin
ce we went to you for help, he's been worse than ever. Yesterday, he rolled my grocery cart to the ice cream section without touching it. People were staring. I thought I was going to die!"
"I didn't mean to," little Oscar whispered. "You said I could have a Fudgsicle."
It was such a typical kid complaint, Alex almost smiled. He lost the urge when Mrs. Pruitt closed her eyes and began to shake.
"Maybe we should take this conversation to our room," Bryan suggested, seeing that, for whatever reason, the end of Mrs. Pruitt's rope had been reached.
Oscar's mother fisted her hands a little tighter. "No," she said, firm and low. "I'm not going one step farther with this freak of nature. You think my life is straightforward? You try living yours with him around your neck."
"Mommy!" Oscar gasped, almost as shocked as Alex and Bryan.
Mrs. Pruitt flinched, not quite as hard-hearted as she appeared. She knelt before the boy.
"It will be all right," she said, smoothing her hands down his Superman T-shirt. "These nice men are going to take care of you. Don't give them any trouble, and you'll be fine."
Two fat tears rolled down Oscar's cheeks.
"Shit," said Bryan. "Mrs. Pruitt, you really can't do this."
Her lips were shaking, but her eyes were as cool as Siberia. "Watch me," she said, and strode stiffly to the revolving door.
"Stop her," Bryan pleaded, but Alex took one look at Oscar and decided he'd better not.
The boy was trembling worse than his mother, his gaze glued to his Wile E. Coyote sneakers, his breath hitching as he fought not to cry harder than he was. Those yellow shoes didn't look so bad to Alex today. They looked like something you might want to wear, if you needed cheering up.
"I'm sorry," Oscar said in a quavery voice. His big blue eyes spilled over as they met Alex's. "I tried to stay happy, I really did, but I just can't do it anymore."
Alex scooped him up and held him tight against his shoulder.
"She can't just leave him," Bryan murmured, though she obviously had. His hand came to rest beneath where Alex's was rubbing Oscar's back. "What are we supposed to do with him?"
