Unicorn of Glass (Fae Shifter Knights Book 2)

by Zoe Chant

  “But he does,” the bleak said, and it felt like the air was squeezing around them as it turned its attention to Marcus. “You will kill the key and disable the knight and there is nothing he can do.”

  “You are mistaken,” Rez said, and he was shifting, driving forward, not at Marcus, but at the bleak.

  Golden hooves rang on the hard concrete floor, and Rez saw his brave key take advantage of Marcus’ momentary shock at his form to drive into him, her shoulder meeting his and knocking them both sideways.

  He was not the size he should be, to gallop a few easy steps and skewer the bleak, but he was too mighty now to dismiss, and he could leap over the scuffle and charge the bleak, who dissolved at the touch of his horn.

  Rez cornered hard, crashing into a barrel at the end of the room as the bleak rematerialized behind him. He reared, neighing a challenge, and focused every scrap of his rage and worry for Heather into chasing down the bleak and shredding it into pieces.

  For brief moments, the bleak was tangible, and in these moments, Rez could cause him damage and cause gratifying cries of pain, but striking again and again only seemed to weary himself and the bleak appeared not to weaken.

  Rez chased him over machines that dented and shrieked under his hooves, knocking down shelves and scattering laundry soap. One of the pipes broke when he crashed one of the washers onto its side. Water began to spray from the wall.

  He speared the bleak again and again, carefully anticipating its physical moments. He kicked it hard with his puny legs.

  And still the bleak did not seem to lose any power.

  As fast as Rez could tear it apart, it pulled itself back together.

  After a few moments of chasing, it began to strike back, leaving red slices on his heaving white sides.

  He could spare no attention for Heather and the landlord, could only hope to keep their battle far from her, and let her use her own strength to escape.

  Surely she would. She was strong and clever, and she would overcome the weak man and take her dog to safety. She would not pause for him, she would save herself.

  He could not bear to think of her doing anything else.

  Chapter 30

  Marcus barely fought back, and Heather, in a blaze of adrenaline, was able to tackle him and wrestle the gun away from him. She threw it away, hearing it clatter against one of the washers and saw it bounce back on the floor, too close for comfort.

  Vesta was in that direction, too, somewhere, yipping in confused excitement, but she was smart enough to stay out of the fray. Heather glanced at Rez. The unicorn, even larger than he’d been before, was charging around the room, leaping from machine to machine as he slashed at the fleeing shadow.

  But the shadow wasn’t only fleeing. It brought it’s reflection-less sword down at Rez, and Heather was alarmed to see that while it appeared to be unharmed, Rez began to show stripes of blood, and stagger in weariness.

  Why wasn’t the bleak weakening? she wondered, gazing around for some kind of weapon she could join the fray with.

  Her gaze fell on Marcus, who was hunched over, muttering and shaking. Had he gone mad?

  Then Heather remembered what Daniella had said about how she sang to access her power. Was angry muttering his way of accessing the ley lines? That seemed like Marcus. Heather closed her eyes, trying to summon the lines of light, and she felt for a brief moment, like she could sense one.

  She reached her arm out, trying to grasp it, trying to drag it through Marcus, and just when she thought she might succeed, Marcus opened his eyes and gave her a malevolent glare and laughed the bleak’s laugh out of his open mouth.

  Heather yanked on the elusive strand with all of her strength, pulling it straight through Marcus.

  And nothing happened.

  He wasn’t dour-ridden, Heather thought, cursing herself. Marcus was standing now, like he’d gotten a second wind. His eyes were dark and inhuman, and he was muttering again. Rez gave a scream of pain as the bleak scored a hit on him, turned and battered the briefly tangible bleak into a dryer with his rear legs.

  “You can stop this,” Heather begged Marcus. “You don’t have to help it. It doesn’t care about you.”

  The bleak rematerialized, undamaged, and Heather could almost see the energy draining from Marcus.

  The difference between them was suddenly stark and obvious.

  Rez didn’t take anything from her, he only took power through her. She felt better and stronger when they were together. Marcus seemed to grow weaker and paler with every strike the bleak made.

  “You aren’t a true key,” Heather said angrily. “It promised you power, but do you really think it would share power with you? Look at what it’s doing to you. It’s just using you, and when it is done with you, you will have nothing. You will be nothing.”

  For one brief moment, she saw Marcus in his eyes, lost and afraid and weak. His mouth moved, and Heather realized that he was mouthing, “Help me.”

  He’d planned to kill her, Heather remembered, feeling shocky and afraid. He’d been planning to kill her because she was Rez’s power in this world, even when she didn’t know how to control any of it or fully help him.

  And if killing her would cripple Rez, would killing him cripple the bleak?

  Marcus was arguably a terrible person, but even if he’d planned to shoot her, Heather knew that wasn’t a path she could ever walk. She couldn’t turn her back on an innocent person, even if felt like they had chosen their own fate.

  “Fight it,” she hissed at Marcus. “Fight it with every scrap of decency you have buried in you. Fight it, dammit!”

  But already, that flicker of Marcus was fading, subsumed in the darkness and despair of the bleak.

  “Clever key,” it said through his mouth. “This is a lockpick, not a key. Already, he is burning out, but that doesn’t matter. I have been through many of these already, they do not live long. And you, you may be clever, but you are not a good fit for your knight. You can’t see what you’re afraid of, and if you can’t see it, you can’t control it. You are a silly child, and your death will be my victory.”

  Marcus charged toward Heather woodenly, and there was the sudden clatter of tiny claws as Vesta launched herself for her mistress’s assailant, barking her head off. Marcus paused to give a swift kick in her direction, but agile Vesta dodged it and danced around his feet, barking as if she was a much larger canine trying to savage him.

  The bleak’s shadow form and Rez had battled back down the narrow room towards them. The fixtures overhead were losing power at an alarming rate and there was water spraying into the air from behind one of the washers. A box of soap had fallen into the mess and the floor was growing foamy and slippery.

  You can’t see what you’re afraid of, the bleak’s words rang in her head.

  She had seen the strands of light before she knew what they were. She’d been afraid for Rez, to the exclusion of everything else, and they seemed like the only way to help him.

  Then Robin had explained what they were to her...and she’d been terrified.

  She didn’t want to admit how much the idea of having power frightened her, but the bleak was right about this.

  All she had to do was stop being afraid.

  Stop being afraid of magic.

  Stop being afraid of love.

  She had agreed to go to Michigan for duty, because it seemed like the right thing to do. But, though she said she accepted the role that seemed destined for her, she hadn’t faced the part where she had to let go of her own fears and frailties.

  She had to admit that Rez was more than just a hot guy with talented hands.

  The closer you get, the stronger you are, Daniella had told her, with a knowing look.

  And she’d known that Daniella didn’t just mean sex. Ever since then, Heather had tried to stop from falling further, because she knew that there would be no return to who she’d been, before Rez, and magic and…

  She looked down the laundry room as i
f everything was in slow motion. Rez was reconsidering his losing tactic of attacking the elusive bleak and was rushing straight at Marcus, golden horn leveled, seeing the only victory possible, just as Heather had.

  She couldn’t let Rez kill Marcus, any more than she could do it herself.

  That way lay exactly the darkness they were trying to prevent.

  Is your world good? Rez had asked her.

  It’s complicated, she had answered, and that was the truth. But it’s good. And that was the truth, too.

  She couldn’t help a weak man make the right choices. But she could choose.

  She could choose to love Rez.

  To trust her own heart, and his.

  And the world around her burst into strands of light as she stepped to protect Marcus.

  Chapter 31

  Rez skidded to a stop as Heather fearlessly stepped into his path, then found that the floor before him had turned into a frictionless mass of bubbles and rainbow-hued puddles.

  She had her hands out in front of her, her eyes closed.

  For a moment, she was still, then she reached out with her fingers and began to pluck nothing from the air around her, twisting and pulling and looping as if she was knitting emptiness into shapes that only she could see.

  And then, something settled over Rez’s withers, stopping him cold before he could crash full-body into Heather.

  For a moment, he turned his head, expecting to see some new attack from the bleak.

  But the bleak was twisted in rage, collecting itself for another physical attack, and the sensation he was feeling was warm and right and full of power and magic.

  Heather.

  Heather was wrapping him in strands of power.

  For a moment, it was like being swathed in a net of fiber...then it settled into his skin and Rez could feel his magic-self becoming complete again at last.

  It was like Heather had plugged him in.

  From miniature to magnificent, he was suddenly everything he was meant to be, every fiber of his being crackling with power as he reared onto his hind legs and crashed down on the cement floor hard enough to crack it.

  Bubbles went everywhere and the bleak charging him hesitated long enough for Rez to stretch into a full gallop in his direction.

  His horn was no longer powerless, and when he speared the shadowy form, there was a scream of agony before it dissipated.

  It was slower to reemerge, and Rez heard Marcus gave a cry as if every nerve ending in his body was being lit on fire.

  Heather’s attempt to save Marcus would be in vain, Rez feared.

  Unless…

  At the last moment, Rez spun on his hooves and charged at Marcus again, skipping carefully over Vesta, who was barking at everything in panic and fear.

  Heather’s eyes opened in surprise and dismay, but before she could stop him, Rez was standing over Marcus.

  Instead of spearing him through the heart, the way he’d feared he would have to, he laid his horn on Marcus’ head, and, reaching into the wellspring of power that Heather had given him, he healed him, the power flowing between them.

  It was a terrible risk.

  He was healing all the burnt out parts in Marcus’ soul, and he might simply be feeding his enemy a fresh vessel to exploit against him.

  But no one whole could house darkness like a bleak inside them.

  Rez didn’t stop at the superficial hurts, the damage the bleak had done, the surface pain. He went deeper, blazing into the dark places that drove the man to drink, the old hurts, the bitterness, the regrets.

  He didn’t wipe them away; to purge such things would be to change the man on a level that wasn’t ethical or predictable.

  But he could loosen their hold on him, let the strengths like mercy and kindness that he had scorned rise in him again. He could give Marcus hope again, and show him the option of grace.

  He was a complicated man, and somewhere, under the anger and misery and the failed coping methods, there was good.

  The healing power swelled around them, closing the wounds on his sides.

  The bleak howled, materialized right beside Rez, and brought his black sword down at his arched white neck while he was unable to dart away.

  Heather cried out in alarm and Rez could feel the strands of energy all around him shudder and flare, but it was too late—the blade was slicing down in a heavy arc...and passing right through him.

  Marcus went limp and collapsed on the floor, and the bleak, with no substance, raged ineffectively, and then vanished.

  The last flickering bank of lights on the ceiling gave an ominous pop, there was a flare of sparks from one of the soaked electrical outlets, and the room went still as the last running machines sank to silence, except for the sound of running water. Vesta stopped barking and shivered against Heather’s feet.

  The only source of light was Rez himself, standing over the unconscious landlord, glowing blue into the dank room.

  Heather took a staggering step and sat down, and Rez felt the web of energy seep away as Vesta climbed into her lap.

  For a moment, he grasped after it, afraid of being powerless again.

  It answered him effortlessly, and he drew in a deep breath and let it go.

  He was anchored in this world now; whatever last barrier had existed between him and Heather of Apartment 35 was gone forever.

  He shivered back into his human form, and immediately regretted it as they plunged into darkness.

  But it wasn’t complete darkness; there was a dim red emergency light somewhere down the room, barely casting enough light to make out the dented dryers and washers and toppled tanks.

  “Are you alright?” he asked, voice hoarse, as he crawled to Heather and gathered her into his arms.

  She sagged into him. “Tired, now,” she admitted. “I was so afraid for you.”

  “We have been victorious,” he told her, pulling her close. “And you are amazing.”

  Heather cuddled close with him for a long moment and they drew comfort from each other as the water continued to pour from the pipes. Most of it swirled down the floor drains before it reached them. Vesta sighed and trembled.

  She finally drew away. “Is Marcus going to be okay? What did you do to him?”

  “I healed him,” Rez said thoughtfully. “As far as I could. He should wake soon. I don’t know how much it will fade—either the memory or the magic, but for a while, he was too whole for the bleak to have a foothold in him.”

  “Is that...is that what you have in me?” Heather asked in a very small voice, cuddling Vesta close. “A foothold?”

  Rez sighed out a breath of air. “No,” he assured her. “The bleak had to hold onto Marcus in order to draw energy through him. I only have to open myself. What we have, we are meant to have; it is connection, not possession. To access his power, the bleak had to force an unwilling subject.”

  “I don’t know how unwilling Marcus really was,” Heather said thoughtfully. “He was at least a little convinced that this was a great deal, that he would have power. Even if he couldn’t quite literally pull the trigger.”

  “Bleaks are masters at manipulation. Fear and greed are their greatest tools. Never underestimate the power of those methods.”

  “There were no dours,” Heather observed.

  “It’s possible we took out its only minions at the Faire,” Rez suggested. “Robin thought it might be short-handed.”

  “This was battling a bleak without any dours,” Heather pointed out. “And we almost got our asses handed to us. Are you...hurt?” she touched his sides, where the bleak had drawn blood from his white hide. There was no trace of damage now.

  “Healing is a kind of a mutual power,” Rez explained. “I cannot heal without healing myself. But you are correct. The fight we look forward to will not be easy,” Rez agreed grimly. The conflict had not gone as he’d expected. He moved strangely in this world, and the damage he and the bleak were able to do to each other was unexpected. He didn’t und
erstand how magic here worked, but they would learn and grow together.

  Heather tipped her head down to butt against Vesta’s. “My brave little girl,” she said.

  “We should leave this place. Is Marcus safe to leave here?”

  “The fuse box is down here, undoubtedly someone will come investigate before too long and call an ambulance for him,” Heather said, rising to her feet.

  Hand-in-hand, they left the battered laundry room behind and started the long, slow climb to Apartment 35.

  He had managed not only not to lock her door, but had left it wide open. “I’m sorry,” he said, stricken. Heather had emphasized how important locking doors was here.

  “You don’t have to apologize for everything,” Heather told him. “You just saved my life, after all.”

  Rez considered. “There is one more thing I must apologize for.”

  Heather put Vesta on the floor to scamper to her food dish as if she had not just nearly been trampled in a battle with dark forces.

  “Don’t tell me,” she guessed, bolting the door behind them. “Are you married in your old world? I never thought to ask.”

  Vesta, finding her dish empty, frolicked back to them and danced around their feet.

  Rez went to gather Heather into his arms. “There is no one for me but you. There never has been. But I still have to apologize. It is my fault you could not give me magic, before. I...did not trust that I deserved you and I think that is why.”

  Heather turned in his arms and slipped her hands up his chest and around his neck. “You thought you didn’t deserve me? I was over here fearing that it was me being the stopper in the bottle. I was...so afraid.”

  “Afraid?” Rez said in surprise. “You have been nothing but fearless and bold in the face of so much danger and surprise. I brought evil to your world and you did not falter once in your willingness to face it.”

  “I have been terrified,” Heather said. “And the more afraid I was, the more helpless I let myself feel, the more helpless I was. More than the dours or the bleaks, I was...afraid of you, of how I felt about you. I’ve never had feelings like this, so strong, so fast. It seemed impossible and unsettling, and I was afraid it wasn’t real. Until…” She drew back.