by Melissa Marr
Chapter 16
When Tish walked into the kitchen, she squealed as if it had been weeks since they’d seen each other.
“There’s a sound I don’t miss.” Rabbit covered his ear and gave a mock wince. “I’m lucky I’m not deaf by now.”
Ani tossed her phone to Rabbit. “Talk to Iri. I’m going to catch up with Tish.”
“Stay in the house!” Rabbit yelled as they took off toward their room.
No.
Ani wished she could tell Rabbit everything, but the more she’d thought, the more she realized that this was too serious. She’d come running home, potentially endangering them. Leaving for a while was the best bet. Especially now that I have the means to go. Fleetingly, Ani wondered if that was part of why the steed had come to her. She needed to get away to where her presence wouldn’t endanger her family.
“I love you.” Ani hugged her sister. “More than anyone or anything. You know that?”
“You too.” Tish frowned. “So… what did you do now?”
“Nothing yet.” Ani flicked the stereo on, and the speakers immediately thumped to life. The bass was heavy, and the weight of it pushed on her skin.
Home.
She knew that Rabbit realized that the music was to keep him from hearing their words. Her brother might not be as much of a Hound as she was, but he had exceptionally keen hearing. She seemed to have gotten almost all of their father’s traits. Rabbit had some—longevity, strength, hearing—and Tish… Tish had “Hound-light” qualities. That’s what they’d called it growing up: a little stronger, a little faster, a little bit too interested in trouble.
They sat down on Tish’s bed. Ani’s bed was still there, unmade from the last visit, and looking like the haven she needed. She couldn’t stay though, not here, not where her mostly mortal sister was.
“What’s going on?” Tish crossed her legs and waited.
“I’m in a sort of situation,” Ani started.
As quickly as she could, she explained everything about Bananach. Then she said, “Tell them. Tell Rab and Iri everything.”
“Ani?” Tish reached for her hand, but Ani was on her feet and backing up.
“I can’t stay.” Ani turned up the stereo. “If she comes after me—”
“No. You can’t go,” Tish whispered. “If she’s watching for you… Come on, Ani. Just do that focus thing. That helps.”
Ani glanced at the closed door. “If she comes, she’ll hurt you and Rabbit. I shouldn’t have come here. I need to go away from everyone before she does. It’s safer and—”
“Iri knows now. He’ll fix it. We can all go live with him.” Tish stood and took Ani’s hands and held on to her like she had when they were little and Ani was freaking out. “Come on. Just stay here.”
“I can’t, Tish. You stay with Iri, okay? Stay with Rabbit. Stay with Gabr—Dad.” Ani felt like something prickly was swarming inside her skin. She needed to run. The thought of staying, of not getting away, made her feel like she was choking. Irial would keep Tish and Rabbit beside him; they’d be safer without her around. She couldn’t stay trapped in the house or put them in danger.
“I need to get out for a while,” she said.
“And go where?” Tish still held on to one of Ani’s hands.
“I don’t know yet.” Ani pulled free of her sister’s hold and opened their closet. Grabbing a duffle, she started shoving a few clothes into it.
Silently, Tish helped, giving permission by her actions if not by her words. Tish held out a brush. Tears were in her eyes. “Be careful, NiNi.”
Ani hugged her, barely resisting tears at the sound of the pet name. “I’ll call.”
“Rab has your phone.” Tish reached into her pocket and pulled out her glaringly pink phone. “Take it. I’ll get yours when he’s done talking to Iri.”
Silently, Ani slipped Tish’s phone into her front pocket. They’d switched often enough that they kept each other’s contacts in both phones. “What about Glenn? I don’t have his number in my phone.”
Tish grinned. “I guess I need to go to the club then.”
“No!” Ani shuddered at the thought of her sister out alone. She pulled the phone out and flipped through the contacts. “Copy it down. He can meet you at the shop. No going anywhere alone unless Iri clears it. Okay?”
Tish wrote down the number on her hand and then she slid open the top drawer of the nightstand between their beds. Nestled under the various bras and stockings was a sgian dubh that matched the one already on Ani’s ankle.
Tish held out the black-handled knife and a black leg holster. “Take my lucky one.”
“Are you sure?” Ani patted her other leg. “I already have the prickler.”
“Take mine too. A girl can never be too careful… or too armed,” Tish quipped.
“True.” Ani lifted her pants leg and fastened the holster. She might be Dark Court enough to like carrying a traditional blade, but she wasn’t a fan of shoving it into her stocking or boot. Tradition was important, but adapting was good too.
Ani slid the knife into the holster.
Tish opened the closet. “Holy irons?”
When they were in elementary school, Irial had taken them on a series of field trips to different houses of worship. At each place, a man or woman said prayer words over a handful of blades. By the end, the girls had a box of sharp things blessed by representatives of a number of the dominant mortal faiths. Like many of the gifts Irial had given them, the “holy irons” were practical presents. One never knows, Irial had said, and we aren’t the only things that go bump in the night. Ani hated carrying the blessed steel because it was a deterrent to many faeries she’d like to get closer to, but she wasn’t going to take chances. Not now.
She shucked off her shirt, slipped on a vertical shoulder holster, adjusted it, and then slipped one of the remaining blessed blades—an eight-inch partially serrated tanto blade—into the sheath that now rested on her side.
“Hold still.” Tish straightened the holster straps. “Take it all. I’ll get Iri to restock for us.”
Ani nodded. Then she grabbed a punch knife, iron filings compressed in a pepper-spray-style container, and a spring billy. She shoved them all into her bag with her clothes. No amount of weapons would give her the strength to overcome Bananach, but overaccessorizing wasn’t a bad idea when planning a road trip. And Bananach isn’t the only trouble out there. The thought of hostile solitaries, of Ly Ergs, of being alone without the Dark Court’s protection made Ani pause—but the thought of endangering her family by remaining in town outweighed any hesitation. She grabbed a bang stick.
Tish absently folded and unfolded her hands. Her nerves were getting more unsettled, but she didn’t want to add to Ani’s stress. She never did. Her emotions said everything her words didn’t. She was afraid—but so was Ani.
And neither of us need to talk about that.
The smile Tish offered was proof that she understood the impossibility of discussing those truths. Even more telling were her words: “Dad’s going to be furious once he catches you.”
“Who says he’ll catch me? He’s not the only one with a steed now.” The thought of Gabriel hearing about her steed was all that made her happy just then. He’ll be proud. She turned her back and, softly, whispered, “Love you.”
Tish grabbed her and held on as tightly as she could. “Be careful. Please?”
“You too.” Ani held her sister just as fiercely.
Tish squeezed her harder, and then stepped back.
Together, they popped the lock and hefted the window.
With her bag slung over her shoulder, Ani climbed out and to the street. Tish dropped the bang stick to her and then closed the window carefully. The curtains fell over the window, and Tish was gone.
Ani was halfway down the block within a breath of her feet touching the sidewalk. This is for the best. She knew that—especially as she wasn’t a block from the shop before she was being followed again.
/> Without changing her stride, she headed toward a side street that would put her near where the Barracuda was parked. Calmly, she made her way toward the steed.
Can you hear me? She thought of the car, imagined the thrill of driving with it, and the warmth of its hood when she’d walked away. Are you awake?
Yes, but this would be easier if I had a name, Ani. Its voice had the same vibrating hum as its engine did. I thought on it. I lack a name. Being a Steed With A Rider means I get a name. It rumbled the words inside her mind. It is important to be Named.
Okay, but right now? Not the best time, she thought back.
Soon, it said.
She dropped her duffle, reached down, and slid a sgian dubh from its ankle holster. Then she turned around so she was facing her pursuer—and faltered. The faery from the Crow’s Nest who’d kissed her and tasted her blood stood in the street.
“It’s you,” she said.
“It is.”
You should not speak to this one, Ani, her steed rumbled. Ani felt it ease up behind her. Right now, it was a Hummer, oversized and bulky, looking like far more steel than most any faery could stand. Being a creature not a machine, there was no actual metal, but the illusion was convincing. It should be frightening.
Pretty Boy in front of her wasn’t shying away though.
She didn’t move any closer. “I thought you left.”
“I did.” He watched her with the same unflinching stare as at the club.
She shivered. Part of her wanted to ask if he’d tracked her, but another part of her preferred not knowing. “Do you know who I am?”
He gave her a thorough looking-over. “The faery from the club… or should I know something else about you?”
She straightened her shoulders and stared at him. It certainly wasn’t a hardship to do so. “You were following me.”
“Yes. Are you going to run?”
“Should I?”
“No.” He walked past her, turning into a narrower alley that was heavy with shadows. “You should come with me.”
She hoped that he’d followed because of their kiss, but she wasn’t a fool. Everyone wanted to curry favor with Gabriel, or Irial, or Niall: he was likely here because of politics.
Or because of Bananach.
“Did… War send you here?” she asked, rather than following him.
He paused and glanced back. “No one sent me. I am here for my own interests.”
She shivered. “Interest in what?”
“You,” the faery said, his voice a whisper from within the shadows.
Ani stepped into the mouth of the alley.
He’s not prey, her steed muttered.
Just a little fun, a little nourishment before we leave, Ani told her steed. I won’t kill him… unless I need to.
The temptation to not tell the faery who she was warred with her inherent sense of good sportsmanship.
“I’m not solitary,” she hedged.
He held his body with such easy grace—no tension, but awareness of her every move. She’d watched his reactions as she stepped closer. He tracked her like one accustomed to fighting.
“I know that.” He almost smiled; one corner of his mouth quirked up. It wasn’t Dark Court cruel, High Court bland, or Summer Court sweet.
“Are you Winter Court?” she asked. Her hand was behind her, holding her knife.
“No. The cold doesn’t suit me.” He did smile then. If he wasn’t sin-pretty before then, the look on his face as she walked closer made him near irresistible.
She watched his eyes; storm-dark clouds were hidden there, but they weren’t warm. “You’re not Summer,” she said.
“Neither are you.”
If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was Dark Court, but power like his didn’t hide in the crowd, and between Irial and Gabriel, she’d had plenty of education on her own court’s powers. “And you look like too much fun to be High Court.”
“Indeed.” His eyes told her what his words weren’t admitting: he was dangerous. Every instinct she had whispered that he was formed of the same sort of shadows Irial was. He should be in her king’s court.
I can’t fit in the alley in this form, Ani. Her steed’s voice was a muffled warning as she walked toward the faery.
“What are you? Gancanagh? Water fey? Help me out here. Solitary, but with enough juice to stroll through this place.” She moved her other hand closer to the knife on her side. Not that it will help much. If she was right about how strong he was—and he must be to walk in Huntsdale so carelessly confident—she wasn’t strong enough to take him. She held his gaze. “Who are you?”
“Devlin. Sorcha’s order keeper, but—”
“Fuck.” She stepped backward. “I’m not going to her world. I belong to Ir—to Niall’s Dark Court. I am protected. You can’t take me.”
Panic rose inside of her like a riot of winged things struggling to escape too-small spaces. She retreated farther, scurrying backward until a gust of sulfuric breath warmed her back. Her steed had transformed again.
I told you, her steed grumbled.
She glanced behind her. It wasn’t a horse, but a reptilian thing that stood where the Hummer had been. Green scales covered a massive body. Claws the length of her forearm dug into the ground beside her. Feathered wings folded tightly together on her steed’s back so as not to brush the buildings on either side of the alley. It parted its jaws to flick a thin black tongue.
The massive head lowered and for an instant she thought it was going to swallow her.
Don’t be foolish. I wouldn’t eat you—it paused, leaving a strange quiet in her mind that told her that it was still mid- thought—no, not even if I were starving. Curious. I’ve never had a rider until you…. I might save you before me. Huh. That’s—
“Can we talk about that later?” She looked into one enormous, swirling eye.
Of course.
The faery pulled her to him then. One arm wrapped around her waist, the other held her from hip to throat. “I could kill it,” he whispered, “or you. It’s what I do, Ani. I kill those who are out of order.”
She tugged at his wrist with her one free hand and simultaneously tried to fling her head back into his.
His hand tightened around her throat. “Stop.”
“I am one of Gabriel’s Hounds,” she rasped. “I am a member of the Dark Court, not just some random halfling. There will be consequences if you—”
“Tell the beast to step back, or I will have fewer choices. I don’t want that. Neither do you.” Devlin squeezed. “Tell it to back off, and I can release you.”
Ani looked up at her steed. Its eyes were swirling as though great storms of fire writhed inside them. Its claws had ripped furrows in the asphalt.
I’ll kill him if you are harmed. It flicked its tongue again. Drive my claws into his guts and—
“I’m not going to get hurt,” she said, far more confidently than she felt, but saying the words felt true. Had they been a lie, they wouldn’t have formed so easily. “He’s going to let me go.”
He didn’t release her, but his grip on her throat loosened until the pressure of his fingertips was hardly noticeable. “I’ll release you if…”
She tensed.
“You don’t run from me.” His words were a breath soft against her cheek. “I truly don’t wish to kill you today.”
She stayed still. “Or take me to Sorcha?”
He laughed, a delicious sound as shadow-heavy as any of the Dark Court’s own. “No, definitely not that.”
Then he relaxed his hold, letting her pull away.
Once she was several steps away from him, he held out a hand as if to shake hers. “As I said, I’m Devlin.”
She stared at his outstretched hand and then lifted her gaze to his face. Her heartbeat thrummed in time to the cacophony of fear and anger inside her. “Am I to say ‘pleased to meet you’ or some social pleasantry?”
Heart still zinging, she turned her back and walk
ed over to her steed.
She cuddled against it. It was a smaller beast now—not much more than double the mass of its equine form—with a leonine body, reptilian head, and feathered wings. It tucked its wings close to its side and lay flat on its belly, so she could climb astride its back if she wanted.
She didn’t, but she did lean closer to it.
I’d like a name now, Ani, it murmured.
“After this,” she promised her steed without pulling her gaze from Devlin. “I live here. Your queen has no business—”
“She didn’t send me after you today.” He stood stiffly, not lounging as comfortably as he’d been before he’d restrained her. He reminded her of things she usually found beautiful: deadly power and contemplative violence.
“I don’t want anything to do with the High Court.” She was screaming inside, but her voice was even. “Just go—”
“Are you planning to help Bananach?” Devlin asked. “Will you give her your blood?”
“No. I won’t help her, or you, or the High Court.” Ani had spent her life refusing to give in to fear; that wasn’t going to change because of some genetic fluke that made everyone want her blood. She straightened. “You can kill me, but I won’t ever betray Irial.”
Devlin’s expression softened for a moment, too briefly to notice if she hadn’t been used to studying faeries who hid their expressions. The softness was gone just as suddenly as it had appeared. “I see.”
Ani shivered. He’d said he wasn’t there on Bananach’s orders, but he knew about her blood, knew that Bananach wanted it. She didn’t feel particularly inclined to stand around asking questions. Getting out of town sounded wiser by the moment.
“So if that’s all, I’ll be going,” she said.
She started to turn, but his voice stopped her: “I’m the High Court Assassin. Trust me when I say that running from me is not in your best interest, Ani.”
Chapter 17
Devlin waited to see how Ani would react. A sliver of excitement hummed inside him. If she ran, he’d chase. Despite an eternity of being bound to his sister’s court, he still hadn’t subdued that particular instinct. As the High Queen’s Bloodied Hands, he could sometimes let loose that urge with impunity, but that was business—with killing at the end of the chase. Chasing for pleasure, chasing Ani, was exceedingly tempting.
