by Allison Pang
“—but I don’t really think I’m the one you should be asking. Moira would probably be a better—oh hey, Abby.” Melanie’s smile suddenly became forced. Talivar turned to face me and I coughed.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” Melanie said. “We were just discussing some of the details of Katy’s party tonight. The musical stuff.”
“Something like that,” Talivar muttered. I frowned at Melanie, not liking the lie, but I wasn’t going to press. As I’d discovered, TouchStone Contracts were terribly intimate, and given that this was the longest one Melanie had ever had, there was bound to be some friction.
“Well, okay then,” I said, a sudden perverseness making me want to call them on it. “What did you have in mind?”
The elven prince shifted uncomfortably, even as Melanie lifted her violin to her cheek. With a sonorous sigh, the voice of the strings spun about us in harmony, the purity of the sound echoing through the Hallows. From somewhere behind us, Benjamin babbled in delight. I couldn’t help the smile creeping over my face, Talivar and I sharing a quick glance.
Uncertainly flickered in his eye. “Abby—”
“What a lovely couple you make. I can see why she chose you.” I froze, the tone of the words slicing through our moment with all the grace of a thrown bag of garbage. The music cut off, all three of us turning to face the newcomer. I did a double take, recognition sliding into place. It was the woman from the street corner.
Instinctively, I pulled away from Talivar, my gaze rocketing to where Katy still held Benjamin. I stepped in front of them, something about the woman making my hackles rise. “And you are?” I kept my voice polite, but firm. After all, this time I had friends at my back.
“Oh, that’s right. I’d forgotten.” Her teeth gleamed beneath rouged lips. She shook her head, and the Glamour melted away in a haze of sparkles, revealing her to be one of the elves, tall and pale, complete with the broom-up-the-ass arrogance so common to their race. Gone were the dowdy mom-jeans with their elastic waistband and her appliqué vest; her clothes became chic and silken to match the dark lustrous waves of her hair. There was nothing grandmotherly at all about the way her perfectly shadowed eyes gleamed hungrily as they fell on Benjamin. “I’m Tresa. The new Protectorate of Portsmyth.”
Three
Excuse me?” I frowned at her, eyeing her Jimmy Choos with a hint of envy. “And here I thought the Devil was supposed to wear Prada?”
Talivar shifted to stand closer, angling his body so that it was in front of mine. Brandon perked up, sliding from behind the bar with a look that was more than a little unfriendly. His eyes flicked toward Katy, who was clinging to a suddenly silent Benjamin.
“I think you heard me,” Tresa said coolly, her brow raised. “I was led to believe you were Moira’s TouchStone. Are you not?”
“She isn’t required to answer you.” The shadowed lilt of Talivar’s voice made me shiver beneath the weight of his words, as though he’d wrapped a cloak of regality about him. Not a bodyguard now, but a prince of the Fae, staring hard at one of his subjects.
Unfazed, Tresa shook her head, a sneer tearing its way across her flawless mouth. “I already told you. I’m the new Protectorate. And I don’t take orders from the Crippled Prince.”
Ignoring Talivar’s black look, she dug into her satchel and pulled out a scroll. She shoved it in my face. “This is the new Contract. I’d like you to look it over. If you agree with the terms, we can go ahead and get you signed up, hmm?” Her eyes glittered as she spoke and her pretentious questioning hum had me about ready to elbow her in the throat.
My hand didn’t move from my side. “I’m not signing anything.” TouchStone Contracts were tricky even at the best of times, but I couldn’t remotely fathom signing one on some woman’s random say-so.
She paused, something flickering across her face. Annoyance? Anger? I couldn’t tell. Her smile widened into something feral and toothy, but I brushed it off. “And what about Moira?”
“Ah. She’s rather indisposed, at the moment. Taking care of the Queen, I believe, the poor thing.” Tresa looped her fingers through her hair, a smile playing about her lips. Beside me, Talivar made a strangled sound, his jaw cracking.
Self-righteous fury heated my cheeks. “Bullshit. There’s no way she would have left her baby with me indefinitely.”
“Not to mention Moira said no such thing to me when I saw her,” Talivar growled. “Yesterday.”
Tresa’s eyes narrowed. “Indeed.” Her mouth hardened as she turned to where Katy stood. A flash of fur from the bar caught my attention. Brandon stalked past us, moving with a deliberate swagger. A wolf on the prowl, but not panicked. Not yet.
“Enough of this,” I said. “I’m not doing anything until I get confirmation from a third party.” Benjamin squirmed in Katy’s arms. I moved away from Tresa, my head doing a couple of quick calculations. “I don’t suppose this is something you can determine?” I gave Talivar a tight smile.
He blinked at me. “I’m hardly going to be objective. As liaison, Roweena would be the best choice. No one would question her word,” he added with an odd touch of bitterness.
I nodded. Roweena DuMont was the liaison between the Faery Court proper and the Protectorate’s Council. Usually all official court business would come through her, although sometimes wires did cross.
“All right, let’s see if she can’t give us the scoop. I think our friend here is neglecting to tell us all the details.” Tresa’s eagerness to have me sign over the Contract had set off a series of small alarm bells. I might still be a bit wet behind the ears when it came to the OtherFolk, but as TouchStone to the Protectorate, I wasn’t going to just roll over on this chick’s assurance.
Talivar didn’t answer, suddenly reaching out to push me behind him. The ghosted presence of a hand snatched at the back of my head. I rolled to my knees, his low-throated growl of disapproval echoed in Brandon’s snarl. Melanie pulled me to my feet, her violin balanced in the other hand. “What was that about?” I snapped, peering around the bulk of his shoulder as a whimper of pain sounded.
“She was trying to TouchStone you,” he replied pleasantly, tightening his grip on Tresa’s wrist until she sank to the floor. “Weren’t you, Tresa?”
She winced, but whether that was because of the thunderstorm in his voice or the fact that he was quite clearly grinding her bones together I wasn’t going to guess. “Was not,” she gasped. “Just wanted to give her the paperwork.”
“By touching her?”
Tresa looked away, her mouth firmly compressed. Any sympathy I might have had for her dropped out the window like a sack of bricks. Hopefully attached to her head.
I crouched down beside her, anger clipping my words. “It doesn’t work that way, you know. Not really. I have to allow it, and there’s about a snowball’s chance of that. Now, are you gonna play nice?” It wasn’t entirely true, but hell, I hadn’t quite figured out the exact mechanics. Didn’t mean I needed to tell her that, though.
“Yes.” She jerked her arm away when I nodded at Talivar. He stayed within easy reach, a flash of warning shining from his good eye.
“You were following me earlier. Why?” She blinked and I rolled my eyes. “Besides the obvious, I mean.”
“I wanted to make sure I knew who you were. So that I knew who to offer the Contract to.”
“Sure you did.” She placed the scroll into my hand in answer, careful not to touch me. I unrolled it slowly even as Talivar moved closer to read over my shoulder. Tresa got to her feet, brushing down her skirt with exaggerated care, which I assumed was more to soothe her wounded pride than anything else.
Pushing her wayward locks behind a pointed ear, she let out a small sigh. Talivar frowned at the Contract. “Is this worded right?”
“Does it matter?” she snapped. And then she was moving toward Katy, her shoes scraping on the marble as she barreled her shoulder into the girl. Katy staggered, cu
rling herself around the baby and twisting to take the brunt of it on her side. Benjamin let out a howl of protest, his cry becoming sharp when the elf woman reached around to snatch his leg.
Brandon was on them a moment later, savaging Tresa’s thigh even as Talivar and I tried to get Katy out from underneath. I tried to pry Benjamin from Tresa’s grip, her nails clenching hard enough to break the skin.
Talivar forced her arm back by inches, until Katy was able to scramble out of the mess. Benjamin whimpered, and I noticed blood streaking down his calf. “Stop, Talivar! Stop! She’ll hurt him.”
Immediately he tugged on the werewolf’s ruff to halt his assault. The four of us panted, Tresa’s blood pooling on the floor. “The Contract.” She pulled Benjamin closer to her. “The baby for the Contract.”
“It won’t hold up if it’s signed under duress,” Talivar snarled. “Assuming we let you live that long.”
Ignoring her wounds, she limped to the door, still clutching the baby. Benjamin’s face was red with fury, a squall of righteous terror escaping him. Something unreadable passed through her eyes as she looked down at him. Muttering something beneath her breath, she stared straight at me. “Catch.”
Benjamin flew from her arms, his mouth open in a tiny “o” of alarm. I moved to catch him, but Talivar was faster still, rolling with an inhuman speed to gracefully pluck his nephew from the air as though he were capturing a bubble. He assessed the child long enough to see that there were no critical injuries before shoving him into my arms. Tresa had already disappeared out the front door of the bar, a trail of crimson the only sign of her passage.
Talivar didn’t hesitate to bolt after her, the door nearly rocking off its hinges from the force of his exit. I stared for a moment before Benjamin’s soft snuffle brought me back. Quickly I laid him down on the floor, checking him over. Except for the scratches on his leg, which seemed mostly superficial, he looked okay. Cradling him against my breast, I rocked him until he quieted down. “There we are,” I crooned at him, relief flooding my shaking arms when he rubbed his face against my collarbone. “Katy, you okay?”
“Yeah,” she said as Melanie helped her to her feet. “Just caught me by surprise.” She rotated her shoulder experimentally, hissing. “Think that’s going to bruise, though.”
Brandon nosed around the bloodstains on the floor. “I just got this bitch waxed too,” he growled, his tongue lapping out to trace one of the puddles. His muzzle wrinkled in distaste. “Something not right about this. It tastes foul.”
“I wouldn’t know,” I said, “not being a blood drinker and all.”
He rolled his golden eyes at me. “Fae blood is usually sweet … sweeter than human blood, even. But this … I’m not sure she is what she says.”
“Not the Protectorate, anyway.” I exchanged a glance with Melanie. “Do you think Talivar should have some sort of backup? What if that’s an ambush?”
“I’ll make a few calls. She may go to ground here if she’s hurt, but if she manages to reach the CrossRoads he’ll need a tracker.” Brandon snapped his chops. “I know a few of the best.”
“She’ll know where I live, I’m sure. She was following me earlier. Not that Moira keeps any secrets about who I am.” I sighed at the thought of having to dodge potential assassins. Again. Part of my job was to be available to those OtherFolk who needed to get in touch with the Protectorate. Everyone knew I worked at the Pit and I lived above it. Perhaps Moira had been wiser than I’d thought to have Talivar stay with me.
Of course that begged the question of what I was supposed to do when my bodyguard was out chasing the bad guys. And what was I going to do with Benjamin? My own life I could risk, but an innocent? Taking him back to the apartment was not an option, particularly if Tresa had friends waiting for us out in the alley.
I turned to Melanie as Brandon started patting Katy down under the guise of making sure her injuries weren’t serious. He was probably trying to cop a feel, but that wasn’t any of my business. She wasn’t protesting, anyway. “I’m going to need you to make me a Door.”
Doors were magical conduits that led directly onto the CrossRoads. Most were hidden and hard to find, but Melanie had the singular ability to create Doors wherever she wanted. Her violin was the key to it all. She told me once her soul was trapped inside the instrument and I believed her, even if she hadn’t quite gotten around to sharing the entire story with me.
Some things were just too personal to talk about.
She nodded slowly, understanding in her eyes. “I can do that. Do you know where you want to go? If there’s an existing Door nearby I can steer you toward it.”
I fastened the carrier around Benjamin’s legs. He gave me a sleepy blink, gurgling as he fisted his hands into my hair. “Yeah. This is beyond me. I should take him straight to Moira, but I’ve never been to Faerie … and I don’t know what would happen if I just tumbled through a Door with a baby in tow.” Particularly a winged baby, I thought.
“Next best option?”
“His father,” I said, stroking the baby’s head.
Melanie pursed her lips. “You sure that’s wise? I mean, with Charlie and all?”
“What choice do I have?” None. Charlie hadn’t been aware that her angel lover had been having an affair with the Protectorate, but no one had. The fact that Moira was also his boss at the time probably didn’t make things any easier to stomach, but I wasn’t going to punish a child for parental mistakes. And I couldn’t judge it anyway. Relationships between near immortals were sure to be messy long term. Throw a mortal or two into the mix and a broken heart was bound to happen.
As you know, my inner voice pointed out. I scowled. My inner voice could shut the hell up, thank you very much. “I know she won’t be happy about it.”
“All right.” She blew out slowly, lifting her magical violin to her cheek again. A momentary silence gripped the room as we watched her. I’d only seen her open a Door a few times, the last being when I was still trapped in Topher’s painting, so my memories were a bit hazy. “I’ll need a formal request from you to make this work, Abby.”
“A request?”
“Yes.” Her fingers swirled over the silver-gilt wood with the greatest care to caress the strings gently, even as her mouth twisted in a wry smile. “Funny thing about daemonic gifts, you know? They never quite work out the way you thought they would.” Her eyes met mine, a glint of warning flashing in their emerald depths.
“You don’t need to tell me.” I snorted.
She stood up, the violin resting easily beneath her chin, the bow poised above the strings. “I’ve got the Contract with Talivar, so we’re all set there, but I still need an exit. Assuming there’s a focus of sorts nearby, there shouldn’t be any issue.”
“As close to Charlie’s as you can get, then. I don’t want to be wandering around the CrossRoads any more than I have to.”
“There’s an alley near Charlie’s house. That should work.”
“Nothing closer?” Not that I had any issues with walking anywhere, but the less I was seen, the better.
“Technically, yes.” Melanie paused and eyed me sourly. “Your funeral.” I retreated into the hallway with a last look at Katy and Brandon and then the music began. For a moment I could think of nothing else except those wondrous notes, wrapping around me and Benjamin, tickling my skin.
Benjamin squirmed, craning his head as though seeing something I could not, his mouth a perfect cupid’s bow of delight. The edges of my vision hazed into a silver arc, Saint Elmo’s fire sparking up the sides of the doorjamb like crystalline snowflakes. I glanced at Melanie, noting only the rapture on her face. Her eyes were closed with a hidden smile curving the pout of her mouth and her fingers flew over the strings, the bow swaying with a butterfly’s ethereal grace. Her Doc Martens tapped out a beat beneath it to keep time as she followed a path I couldn’t begin to understand.
“Now,” she murmured, eyes snapping open. I followed the curt gesture of her head, tu
rning to the shimmering Door that had appeared. Still, I couldn’t keep that little sliver of ice from running down my spine as I stepped over the threshold. Traveling the CrossRoads had never been my forte. A moment of tingling warmth and then my feet landed upon the cobblestones. I caught the barest glimpse of it, long and silver and stretching out into the blackness and beyond, a sparkling river that led to nowhere. And then it was gone, and I found myself at another Door. I didn’t hesitate this time, trusting that Melanie knew what she was doing.
I dipped my head, and the silver strands fell over me like gossamer spider webs made of crystal. Benjamin’s breath puffed on my neck. “It tickles,” I agreed, closing my eyes as the webs slipped past my face.
“What the bloody fuck?”
That didn’t sound too good.
I blinked, a hairbreadth too late as the stinging slap of Charlie’s hand blazed over my cheek. Eyes watering, I staggered, but the Door had faded behind me, and I found myself pressed into a wall.
Not an alley. So not an alley. In fact, judging by the extremely pissed-off mien of the angel and the nearly undressed state of Charlie, I was about as far from an alley as I could get.
My funeral, indeed.
Four
Remind me later to thank Melanie for being so succinct,” I said under my breath.
“Remind me to smash that fucking violin over her head,” Charlie snapped. “What the hell are you doing here?”
I searched out Robert in helpless plea. “We’ve got a problem with Moira.” I dropped the blanket from my chest. “And Benjamin needs his daddy.”
Charlie’s head swiveled toward Robert, her cheeks flushed. “You promised me. You promised me this wouldn’t happen. That you’d take care of it.”
“Hey, I’m sorry to bust in on you like this,” I said, rocking slightly to keep Benjamin from making things worse. His eyes were very wide, but I could see his lower lip starting to tremble. Another outburst like that and he was going to tip over the edge. “But don’t blame the baby. And don’t blame me either.”
