Fallon [Darklands]

by Autumn Dawn

  "I won't go."

  He let that go. She wasn't going to have a choice, and it was his job to carry out the transplant. Standing up, he offered her his hand. “It's time."

  Ignoring his hand, she pushed her chair out with angry defiance, pointedly keeping her space from him. With a sigh, he led the way, allowing Kirk to bring up the rear, boxing her in. They adjourned to his study. While Fallon raised the wall hiding a big screen TV, Kirk seated Rain in a leather chair that swallowed her, taking up guard behind her. In moments the screen began to fill with faces, some very old, a couple apparently in their middle ages. In moments seven faces stared back at her, studying her with curiosity or dispassion, depending on the Elder.

  It was all she could do not to claw her way up the back of her chair and escape.

  The most ancient of faces, a man with a white beard and the dignified essence of Sean Connery, looked at Fallon. “Good morning, my lord. Felicitations on your latest mission. I trust all goes smoothly?"

  Fallon inclined his head. “As can be expected, Elder Azion.” He glanced at Rain. “This is Rain Lilly Zephyr Miller, daughter of the late Rian Miller."

  Rain winced. She hadn't known he knew her full name, and thanks to her hippie mother, it was a gruesome mouthful.

  Ignoring her reaction, Fallon introduced the seven elders. “Elder Azion, Elder Traforte, Elder Rite."

  Most of the names were quickly forgotten, but Rain remembered Azion and Rite. Azion had the advantage of first introduction, and Rite ... the man was creepy. Middle-aged like her father would have been, but with night black hair and startling blue eyes, his face was average, but the intensity in his expression was anything but. Against her will, her gaze kept darting to him, and she felt grateful that he wasn't there in person.

  Azion's words drew her attention back to the conversation. His gaze steady, he said calmly, “As I'm sure you've been told, we're here to decide on your future, on whether you'd be better off here or installed in the Darklands."

  Her eyes narrowed with defiance. “I'm an American citizen, and I choose to remain here."

  "It's not that simple. You're now a target of the Cult and a danger to the rest of us. How do you propose to defend yourself?"

  "I'm skilled at making myself disappear,” she said grimly. This time she would stay that way.

  Kindly, Azion asked, “But what kind of life is that—running and hiding? Living in fear? Do you feel you'd be happy?"

  "I'm happy if I'm free.” She tried to ignore the hollowness his words invoked. It had been so long since anyone had cared, so long since she'd had friends. Experience told her that friends would be difficult to make on the run.

  "If even large families with many warriors have difficulty resisting the Cult, how do you plan to stay free of them? Our war with the Cult is costing too many lives. Soon there will be none of us left here on Earth, either because we've moved on to the Darklands, or because the Cult has won."

  Even she had to admit the man was logical, but she'd had so much taken from her. She didn't want this forced on her, too. “It should be my choice whether I go or stay."

  "What of a family? Most of our young men have already left for the Darklands It will be difficult for you to find a mate here on Earth."

  He would use that argument. Her heart twisted, and she answered harshly, “I choose not to have one."

  Her words caused a murmur to go through her audience. Azion's brows rose. “Why is that? You are young, pretty enough to easily attract a husband. Even if you aren't ready for children now, you may be later."

  Feeling sick, she looked aside. She wasn't going to win unless she confessed.

  Her father had warned her, once she'd finally learned the truth. It had been horrible enough finding out what he was, but he'd warned her that his kind wouldn't take well to knowledge of her. Some of them might be incensed enough to kill her, and he'd loved her too well to let that happen. He'd installed the escape tunnel in the house and secrecy in her heart. Flinging it away now was ten times worse than giving away her virginity could ever be.

  The silence stretched. They were content to wait her out. Clearing her throat, she said hoarsely, “My mother was human."

  A flurry of murmurs followed her confession, making her shift in her seat. Almost she expected someone to strike her dead on the spot. Shape-shifters hated mixed blood. Her father had told her so. After all, humans and Haunt had never shared a world gracefully. In their way, Haunt could be as bigoted toward humans as the Cult was toward Haunt. Her father had lived apart from his own kind ever since her birth, encouraging her shyness. He hadn't wanted to risk exposing his daughter to the uncertain mercy of his kind. Little as she knew of the race, she didn't doubt they could hate her. Surely this would result in freedom—one way or the other.

  Personally she hoped Fallon would kick her out. Her blood would make an awful mess of his carpet, and he had gone through a lot of trouble to save her hide in the first place.

  Her father had told her that mixed-blood children rarely survived the first trimester, as the seed did not mix gracefully. She'd been born two months premature and her mother had never really recovered from the pregnancy. She'd died when Rain was five, leaving a grieving husband and a sad little girl in her wake. Her father had concealed the knowledge of what she was from her when she exhibited little of his race's characteristics, thinking that she'd be happier believing she was fully human. He'd been right, for the day she had learned otherwise had sent her world into a tailspin from which she'd never recovered.

  The murmur died down. Azion considered her thoughtfully, and she had the sudden suspicion that he already knew about her mixed blood.

  "Interesting revelation, but to my mind it makes little difference. You've got our blood. As rare and impossible as that may seem, when combined with your susceptibility to the male Sylph, it makes you our responsibility. I do not believe you will be happy here. Indeed, it's clear that you have been miserable for some time. I move to extradite you to the Darklands.” One by one, the Elders voted to send her through the gate to the new Haunt world, sealing her fate.

  Her lips parted on a silent protest. They were crazy! She was not about to meekly go along, dumbly complying with their stupid decree. She knew nothing about the Darklands, only that it had a creepy name and was inhabited by a race of beings her father had warned her wouldn't appreciate her existence. Gritting her teeth, she fought the urge to tell them where they could shove their verdict. The less she said, they less they would know of her plans.

  She was not going to the Darklands.

  Azion's eyes shifted inquiringly to her left.

  That brought Rain to her feet. Fists clenched, she gritted out, “I'm twenty-two years old, far past the need for a guardian. I—"

  "I accept the responsibility,” Fallon's calm voice cut off her tirade.

  She whirled on him, within a fingernail of attacking him. “I do not want you as my keeper! I don't need you as my keeper, so why don't you just—"

  Azion cut her off this time. “Lord Fallon will be protecting you until such a time as you find a mate and he can hand the responsibility over. He will help you to get established and will see to your well being until you are settled. This is the will of the Counsel. Good luck, and good day."

  Mute fury riveted her to the spot as the screen went blank. Ignoring Kirk and her new “guardian", she stalked to the exit, whipped open the door, strode down the hall and slammed into her room. Locking the door, she threw herself on the bed and screamed into her pillow.

  * * * *

  "That went well."

  Fallon shot Kirk an annoyed look and dropped into his office chair. He could see the hallway and Rain's bedroom through his open study door.

  He hadn't known she was a half-breed. It explained a lot, but made little impact on his decision to protect her, other than to make him more certain that she needed it. Elder Azion was right; she wasn't happy here. No matter how she felt about the move, she was sure to have
a better chance of survival in the Darklands.

  Retirement had been looming for him for some time—he'd be glad to go home. Kirk was ready to replace him, and there few enough of them left on this side of gate to warrant Fallon's continued presence. He had lands and duties in the Darklands, both of which had suffered his absence for over a decade. Dealing with one small woman wasn't going to tax him.

  Toying with the latch on his laptop, he let his eyes wander over the shelves of books. The sun shown through the window Rain had almost leapt through, reflecting off the snow and illuminating the red velvet couch. Three moons rode the sky in the Darklands and the climate was tropical. He'd miss this place, but it had never held his heart like his home.

  He pictured Rain in the Darklands and smiled. She'd probably attack the first shifted soldier she found, and since all males remained in their more powerful, mute form when on duty, she'd see one almost immediately. Growing up around humans might even have made her fearful. Frowning, he considered how long it would take her to become acclimated.

  Chapter Four

  It was still dark when Rain woke up, but that wasn't unusual for Alaska. Sunrise wouldn't happen until ten-something that morning. Growling at the dark, she flipped back the covers and hunted for her socks.

  She wanted to slap herself for her tantrum last night. Granted, for the last year she'd been hunted, sleep-deprived, half-starved and almost seduced by the bad guy, but that didn't excuse her childish behavior. You'd think the last few years would have pistol-whipped the remains of giddy youth out of her.

  She was going to the Darklands. She hated to admit it, yet there it was. With the entire bloody Counsel against her, the Cult's deathwatch waiting for her to show her face and Fallon and Kirk babysitting, there was no way she was going to be able to run. Then there was the little matter of the trinket she carried....

  Rain slipped her hand into her frayed leather jacket and pulled out a red rubber ball. A lopsided smirk curved her lips as she peeled it apart at the seams and spilled the contents into her palm. A heavy as gold, the intricately carved metal ball slowly warmed in her palm. Topaz gems winked at her from their settings, inviting her to touch, to wake them from their slumber. Giving in, she held the device next to the bedside lamp, giving it just enough light for its advanced solar battery to operate.

  With a hum, the device lifted from her palm and hovered, slowly rotating. The gems lit up, began their opening notes.

  Rain shivered as unearthly music, barely heard, intensely felt, vibrated in the air. The sounds physically pleasured the listener, shimmering with the radiance of the aurora, invisibly intense, seductively sweet. Piercing. Addictive.

  She hadn't meant to make the Bell. It was supposed to be a gate key, a teleportation device that would open the door to the Darklands and allow her to take a peek without being trapped; her pocket wormhole. She realized too late that one actually had to go the Darklands before it could be set—problematic, since she'd had no intention of applying for her green card. By then, of course, she'd been addicted, unable to abandon her seductive little toy and its hypnotic sounds.

  The idea of it falling into another's hands put her into a cold sweat. Think of how easy it would be for a thief to use it, or a murderer. Able to pop in and out, he'd never be caught.

  Her father had been killed just for hinting that the Bell existed.

  Someone on the Counsel had committed murder to possess it, and if she weren't careful, she'd be next. Stealing was the least a man could do with the gate at his disposal. Murder would child's play if he could learn to set it. Imagine the devastation if the Bell fell in the hands of an assassin. She wasn't blind to the potential disaster.

  Unfortunately, she couldn't destroy it; physically couldn't do it. In its own way it was every bit as bad as Rory's pheromones had been. Her nerves went weak every time she thought about smashing it—the thing had become her lover. The resonance bound even as it gave sweet pleasure, and like a puppet, she danced attendance on it. God forbid a man should ever have such sensual power over her.

  Shivering at the final whisper of notes, she closed her hand over the Bell. Breathing deeply, she sealed it in its hiding place and shoved it in her pocket. At least she had an out if things got ugly in the Darklands. No one would think to look for her back here.

  It was time to go and face Fallon, and her future.

  * * * *

  "I'd rather drive.” Rain eyed the snow machine as Fallon strapped on his saddlebags and duffle. She knew how to drive one, but she had serious misgivings about letting him. He had that look about him that said he only had one speed—warp velocity. His full face black helmet hid his face and his winter gear only emphasized his height. Kirk was just as bad—both of them made her feel like a round midget.

  Glowering at Kirk, who was strapping on his skis, she grumped, “The machine will bog down.” Not that she would mind the delay.

  "Not this one, baby.” Fallon's eyes crinkled, though his grin was hidden. “We've added a few Darklands upgrades. Things are a little more advanced on the other side of the gate. Hop on."

  Arms crossed, she eyed him, then grudgingly gave in. No doubt his weight on the back would overbalance them anyway, should they go up any hills. Settling on back, she lightly grasped his waist, holding on by her legs by habit. She'd spent much of her childhood on snow machines and hated to ride double, preferring to be the one in control. It was no fun staring at the back of someone's head—or in Fallon's case, at his back. It blocked out a huge chunk of scenery, and if he hadn't set the shocks stiff enough, guaranteed a jarring ride.

  Fallon took off slowly, and she was relieved he wasn't novice enough to dig a hole by gunning it. The thought had no more than crossed her mind when he opened throttle. Rain grunted and held on, rolling her eyes at Kirk's whoop. The blinking idiot was going to find himself wrapped around a tree and he was enjoying it.

  Frosted birches and snow cloaked spruce flashed by, giving Rain more enjoyment than she liked to admit. It had been a long time since she'd rode, and Fallon proved a better driver than she'd suspected. He took jumps like a madman, laughing all the while, darting off into the powder now and then for the sheer thrill of it. Kirk shouted encouragement, unintelligible over the roar of wind and engine, but understood. Their pleasure caught under her armor, sinking into her blood until it sang, too. Were all men like this in the Darklands? Maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

  All too soon, the wild ride slowed. Disappointed, she looked around at the unassuming stand of birch, seeing nothing more interesting than a fleeing grouse. Fallon dismounted. Twisting around on the seat, she watched Kirk dusting off snow. Fallon took off his helmet, tossing it to his friend, then stripped off his snowsuit, tossing it for sport, too. Kirk laughed and tossed it back. “Feeling the heat already?"

  Fallon grinned. “Know it.” He turned to Rain. “Take off the helmet and suit and follow me. I promise you'll be more than warm enough in a minute."

  Wary of his wicked grin, she slowly obeyed, glowering as the cold bit into her exposed skin.

  He unbuckled her duffle and slung it over his shoulder. “Leave the boots and gloves on—Kirk will get it later. There's just less for him to carry this way.” He held out his hand. “Ready, Dorothy?"

  "Careful, Toto. I might just make a coat out of you to keep from freezing out here.” Giving him her hand so he could help her through the knee-deep snow, she followed, grimacing as powder worked its way down her boots. At least it was growing warmer.

  A shadow caught her eye, and she froze, staring at the unusually big tree to her right. Was that a wolf?

  Fallon tugged her on, and she noticed the snow thinning under the shadow of the trees. The warmth continued to build, and she looked up as the light dimmed, greened. Well, that explained it. The trees had grown huge, and their leaves blocked the sun....

  Rain stiffened and looked around. Redwoods. She was in a redwood forest. Ferns and moss provided a soft cushion on either side of the faint dirt path. M
ushrooms the size of ottomans dotted the forest floor, adding color like bright red vases full of poppies in someone's sitting room. A wolf-like creature wove in and out of the trees, a silent watcher to her personal drama. Rain just stood there, looking, ignoring the snow melting into her socks.

  Fallon smiled and handed her a pair of shoes, then slowly peeled off her gloves. “Welcome to the Darklands. We'll pitch this stuff back through the gate, then I'll take you up to the Citadel and introduce you around."

  Dazed, she looked at him, blinked when she noticed him stripping off his sweater. Underneath was a black leather vest that buckled across his chest. A red embroidered Celtic knot decorated his left breast. She recognized the black pants from this morning, but she'd never seen the weapons belt he buckled on, nor the gun in the low holster against his right thigh. A silver dagger hilt rode his left hip. She stared.

  He grinned. “Standard uniform—you'll be seeing a lot of it. Come on, let's go blow your mind."

  He'd originally intended to take her straight to her quarters to settle in, then slowly introduce her to his world. Seeing the wonder in her eyes changed his mind. Why not build on it? This magic, the mystique of stepping into an alien world that was now her own, this is what she needed. Let her first moments be full of pleasure and the rest of her days would be colored by it. Tossing aside his mental itinerary, he took her hand, threw her a grin, and headed for the market.

  Rain's eyes lit up when she first caught sight of the colorful tents and booths nestled against the curve of the Citadel's stone wall, facing the bay. Rows of merchants selling everything from produce and crafts to weapons and livestock greeted shoppers with cheerful invitations to try their wares. Women with baskets did the household shopping, haggling with shopkeepers as their children scurried around, ogling the goods. By the look on her face, Rain couldn't wait to explore.

  Fallon grinned, congratulating himself on a great idea. All women loved to shop.—this one was no exception.