Midnight Enchantment

by Anya Bast

  The old man leaned on a gnarled walking stick not far away. His eyesight probably wasn’t very good, but he gave Niall a squinty head-to-toe sweep anyway. “Friend of Elizabeth’s? Didn’t know she had any. That girl is alone all the time. What’s your name?”

  “Niall.” He wouldn’t give his last name if he didn’t have to. Once a upon a time, and even now in certain quarters, the possession of a fae’s full name meant you had power over them.

  “Niall, huh?” The old man rubbed his chin. “Not a nature fae.”

  “No, sir. I live in Piefferburg City.” Clearly that was a mark against him. He hesitated, then plunged on. What did the opinion of this old man matter? He had more pressing concerns. “In the Black Tower.”

  The man considered him for a long moment. “Unseelie, eh? What are you doing out here snooping around my house, and where’s Elizabeth?”

  “I’m looking for something she lost. Two silver objects about this big.” He cupped his hands together to indicate the size of the pieces. “Seen anything like that around here?”

  “No. Sorry.” He smacked his lips. “Any chance she’ll be coming around anytime soon?” He smiled, showing bad teeth. “I’m about out of the food she brought me and haven’t seen her tonight.”

  Damn it. Of course. He’d been so intent on his goal that he’d forgotten people depended on Elizabeth for food. They were going to starve without her help.

  “Uh.” Niall scratched the back of his head, looking away from the man. Great. Not only was he now a kidnapper and mind-fucking torturer, he was responsible for invalids starving to death. “She’s a little under the weather and won’t be around for a while.”

  “Oh.” The man wilted, sagging against his walking stick. “Tell her I hope she feels better soon.” He turned and shuffled back down the path to his cottage.

  Niall stood for a moment, watching him go. Then he tipped his head to the sky and breathed out in defeat.

  Time to go harvest some food and distribute it. Just call him Mother fucking Teresa.

  Although maybe he could use it to his advantage with Elizabeth.

  ELIZABETH raised her head from her place on the couch at the sound of the front door unlocking. Early morning sunshine shone through the windows of the cottage, draining her of energy almost as badly as the charmed iron touching her skin. She needed to sleep. Sitting up, she squinted blearily at him. Dirt marked his jeans and navy blue sweater, covered his hands and forearms.

  “What have you been doing…digging with your bare hands?” She straightened with a snap, cold fear jolting through her at the possibility he’d found her hiding place. She drew a careful breath and reminded herself to calm down and not give anything away. It was more likely he’d just been searching for them and that’s why he was all dirty.

  He didn’t look at her as he walked into the house. His hair was mussed, dark circles marked his eyes, and dirt smudged his forehead. Served him right if he’d been up all night searching to kill her mother, because that’s what the pieces represented in her mind.

  Grabbing a towel from the kitchen, he wiped it over his face and then tossed it onto the table. “Yes, I’ve been digging. I harvested the vegetables from your gardens and gave them out to those people you keep fed.” He sounded disgusted. “Good thing I tracked your movements all those nights, right? I knew where to go.”

  Relief flooded through her. Her people had been weighing on her mind ever since Niall had captured her. Unsure of what to say—she couldn’t really say thank you, could she?—she tucked her legs up underneath her and watched him walk into the living room to stand in front of her. “But I couldn’t replant. There won’t be anything for them tonight, and what you gave them won’t last very long.”

  He grunted and looked away from her. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “All I do is worry about it.”

  He shot her a hostile glance and went for his bedroom. “Like I said, don’t. I’ve got them covered, okay? They’re not going to starve. I’m taking a shower.”

  She sat there staring at the empty space where he’d just been standing. It was hard to get a good read on this man. He apparently intended to sit around and watch her waste away, but he also meant to take care of the people who counted on her. How could one man seem so cold one minute and caring the next?

  The sound of the water starting in the bathroom met her ears. She settled back against the couch and pulled the sleeves of her sweater down over her hands, taking in the steady drum of the shower and holding it close.

  Being away from her element for so long was a hardship that a fae like Niall couldn’t understand. She’d never spent this long away from a natural source—a lake, stream, the ocean. Time would tell how that lack would affect her. Just the steady sound of the shower right now soothed her soul and eased the weakening ache of the iron sickness that was leaching into her bones and gathering behind her teeth. The only good thing about this cottage was its steady supply of warm water. At least she had that.

  A short time later Niall walked into the living room wearing only a pair of jeans. No shirt, no shoes. His damp hair stood up all over his head, and she hated how badly her fingers itched to smooth it down. She gave him a quick sweep with her gaze when he wasn’t looking and hated to admit her fingers wanted to do a whole lot more than just touch his hair.

  As he moved through the room, righting the chair she’d been tied to—she certainly hadn’t wanted to lift a finger to do it—gathering up the rope and arranging a few other things, her gaze skated over the muscular ridges and valleys of his upper arms, chest, and stomach. Niall was definitely a man in shape.

  Weighing in at around one twenty, she didn’t have much hope of being able to defeat him in a fight…unless she fought dirty, anyway. Her father had taught her how to take down a man who was bigger than her, but that had been a long time ago and she’d never had any opportunity to practice the self-defense tactics he’d taught her.

  “Thank you, I guess,” she said into the sleeve of her sweater. “For making my rounds. I shouldn’t be thanking you, though, since if you weren’t holding me they wouldn’t be starving.”

  “No, you shouldn’t thank me,” he answered without turning around. He glanced at her. “And you should have thought about taking care of those who depend on you before you started working with the Summer Queen.”

  “Stop saying that. I’m not working with the Summer Queen. I hate her. Our goals were simply in accord for this one instance.”

  “Pretty big instance.”

  She nodded, miserable.

  “If the Summer Queen came to you, asked you to do something for her, and you did it, you’re working with her. Period.”

  “You make it sound as if I agree with her reasons for trying to keep the walls intact. I don’t. Her reasons are frivolous and self-centered. Mine aren’t.”

  He shrugged. “You still haven’t revealed who or what you’re protecting, so I can’t really agree or disagree with that statement.”

  She dropped her hands into her lap. “Who says I’m protecting someone?”

  “Someone?”

  Oh, crap.

  “Don’t worry; I’d already guessed you were protecting a person.” He turned and grinned at her. “You spend every night harvesting and distributing food to elderly and poverty-stricken nature fae. You sure as hell seem like a protector to me.” His smile faded. “Maybe I don’t want to know your reasons. Maybe they’d just make it harder for me to get what I need out of you.”

  “Maybe it would, but I’m still not telling.”

  “Awww, you don’t trust me, baby? I can’t imagine why.”

  She tossed him an irritated glance and bit her bottom lip.

  “I know about your father and brother, by the way. About how they died.”

  She flinched. “How do you know about that?”

  “You talk in your sleep.”

  A burst of ice-cold terror ripped through her. If she’d babbled about her father and brother d
uring her sleep, who knew what else she might reveal? Her fingers gripped the inside of the sleeve of her sweater. She was fighting so hard to keep her secret safe and now there was a possibility she could give it up without even knowing it.

  He bustled around the kitchen, making tea and toast. “You must hate the Unseelie Court.”

  She pushed her hand out the mouth of her sleeve and studied her fingernails. “Were you a part of what happened to my father and brother?” The words came out sounding casual, but she felt anything but that. The memory tightened the muscles of her stomach and made her feel sick.

  She worried about Niall’s answer—stupidly. Yet if Niall had played a part on that bloody day, she would be disappointed.

  He turned toward her, slice of bread in his hand. “No, Elizabeth, but I’m not surprised it occurred. The Shadow King was a good ruler, but he had no mercy for those who stood against him.”

  “A good ruler.” She made a sound of disgust. “They weren’t standing against him. They simply didn’t want to dedicate their lives to the Shadow Guard. Last time I checked, Piefferburg wasn’t a dictatorship.”

  “Anyone who defied the wishes of Aodh Críostóir Ruadhán O’Dubhuir stood against him.” He paused. “I didn’t know you had a brother.”

  “He wasn’t my brother by blood, but the link was every bit as strong.” She swallowed hard. “Do we have to talk about this?”

  The memory of their deaths was still fresh in her mind. Living so far out in the Boundary Lands, her family was all she had. Losing two members that same day had been devastating. Her father and brother had been Pict by genetic origin, extremely powerful warriors by birthright. They’d been commanded by the Unseelie King to join the Shadow Guard. When they’d refused, the king had sent a contingent of soldiers and his personal bodyguard, Barthe, an ogre, to beat them until they agreed.

  They never agreed.

  “No, we don’t have to talk about it.” He brought the tea and toast over to her and set it on the coffee table in front of her. “Eat. You look pale and tired. The iron sickness is setting in.”

  “Do you think?” she snapped at him. Stomach rumbling, she reached out and snagged the edge of the toast, bringing it to her lips to nibble. “Trying to keep me healthy as long as you can?”

  “Of course I am. You die and your secret dies with you.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “That’s the idea.” Her tone was light to mock him, but she couldn’t keep the note of sadness out of her voice.

  He watched her polish off the tea and toast and then ordered her to sleep. That was one command she was more than willing to obey. She stood, took two steps forward, and stumbled. He caught her and she ended up pressed against his solid, warm body. Despite her fatigue, every nerve in her flared to acute awareness of his differences as a man—sculpted, hard muscle, broad shoulders, strong chest and arms.

  Niall was the type of man that females responded to on a primal, cavewoman-like level. He had the kind of body that screamed power and raw masculinity—the kind of body that made a woman instinctively think he would protect her against all threats. Of course, Elizabeth knew better.

  Niall was the threat.

  Alarmed by her inappropriate reaction to him, she pushed away, but he just held her firm. “Come on, let me help you to bed. You’re iron sick and awake during the day. It makes you unsteady on your feet.”

  She was really too tired to argue or fight. That made her distinctly worried about the immediate future, but there wasn’t anything she could do about that. Not right now. Right now she needed a bed, a blanket, and hours of shut-eye.

  After taking a couple shaky steps toward the bedroom, he simply lifted her into his arms like a child and carried her there. She refused to look at him, refused to touch him more than was necessary, and refused to thank him when he laid her onto the mattress. Her heart beat out a crazy rhythm, and she cursed her poor, starved libido a million times from the living room to the bedroom.

  He pulled the blankets over her. “Sleep.” Then he turned away, flipped off the light, and closed the door.

  ELIZABETH rolled over in her bed, snuggling into the blankets. Cracking her eyes open and gazing out her bedroom window, she glimpsed the silly gnome lawn statue her brother had given her when she’d moved into her house. Evening was just reaching its elegant fingers into late afternoon, knitting purples and blues with oranges and pinks. She stretched, feeling the delicious sensation of her muscles moving after a full day’s sleep.

  She pushed her blankets away and admired their softness for a moment. They’d been quilted by her mother. All her blankets had been gifts from her, quilted, crocheted or knitted lovingly in her hands. Smiling, she rubbed her fingers across one, remembering the reason she’d said yes to the Summer Queen.

  As she moved through her small house, she flicked lights on here and there. Outside the sprae gathered at the edges of her trim yard, lighting on the yellow picket fence that surrounded her cozy place. Her home had been built by the birch ladies and the Scottish nature fae who were their allies. She owed them a lot.

  Standing in her kitchen, Elizabeth sipped a fresh cup of coffee—she set the maker to brew every day at 5 pm, right before she woke—and gazed out the window. It was going to be a nice evening, and she had lots to do.

  Gazing out her kitchen window, she had a vague sense of unease, almost as if there was a presence in her house or as if someone was watching her.

  Any other time she’d brush it off, chalk it up to her imagination or her nerves, but not tonight. As long as she was hiding the final two pieces of the bosca fadbh, she couldn’t discount any sort of unease she felt. There were too many different kinds of magick within the bounds of Piefferburg, too many for her to take any niggling sensation she had for granted.

  Setting her empty cup in the sink, she went back upstairs, changed out of her nightgown and into a pair of cargo pants and a sweater. Then she slipped on a sturdy pair of boots. She needed to check her gardens and she’d do it with her ATV, not wanting to roam the chilly Boundary Lands in only her birthday suit. She had clothes stashed just about everywhere, but re-forming to physical state on the freezing ground this close to winter had given her a cold more than once.

  She exited the house and stood outside, the sensation of wrongness intensifying. Frowning, she headed to her ATV. She’d wanted to move the pieces tonight, but something felt off. It wasn’t safe to go to them for some reason.

  Standing in the middle of her yard, she stopped and lifted her face to the sky. She felt a little dumb, but she was taking no chances. Not with her mother’s life. “Whoever you are or whatever you are, I know you’re there. If you think—”

  She gasped as the world…melted. The trees dripped green and brown and orange, the colors running like paint. The neat little yellow fence pooled onto the green grass, swirling into a stream of dissolving reality. The ground went spongy under her feet, become porous. A huge hole opened up beneath her.

  She screamed as she dropped down.…

  * * *

  ELIZABETH gasped and jerked up in her bed back at Niall’s cottage, panic coursing through her veins. The charmed iron of the cuff still banded her ankle. It had been another of his “scenes.” More illusion. Her breath came fast and hard. She pressed a hand to her chest as though it would slow her heart rate.

  Niall sat in a chair in the corner of the darkened room, elbows on the armrests, fingers steepled, face half-shadowed. “You’re very good.” His voice sounded low and dangerous, a little pissed off, and held a little grudging admiration.

  She couldn’t answer; all she could do was concentrate on breathing. Sweet Danu, she hated this.

  “Everything I try, you figure it out. You can feel me through the layers.” He cocked his head to the side. “You’re like the princess and the pea. How do you do that?”

  Swallowing hard, she pushed the blankets aside and sat up. “You’re the devil incarnate,” she managed to push out. “I’d be able to sense you anywhe
re.”

  “You’re not the first to call me that.” He stood and walked toward her. “Sleep well?”

  She nodded, pushing a shaking hand through her hair. He was very close to her, a little too close for her to feel comfortable, especially with the bed right behind them. She started to stand. “I want a shower.” She’d taken one not eight hours ago, but she needed to feel the water on her skin.

  He pushed her gently back onto the bed.

  She gazed up in slight alarm. “What?” The word snapped out in her agitation. She hated having to fight her reaction to him all the time.

  He was a villain. Normal woman were not attracted to men like him.

  Half his face remained caught in shadow so she couldn’t read his expression. “I would never take advantage of the fact you’re in my custody. You know that, don’t you, Elizabeth?”

  “I don’t know anything about you, Niall.” Her voice came out husky.

  He stared at her a moment longer, his face still only partially lighted. Instead of answering her, he turned away and left the room. A moment later and she could hear him slamming pots and pans around in the kitchen.

  Trying to shake off the nagging unease in her iron sick body, she took a long, hot shower, absorbing every drop of moisture into her skin that she could. She had never gone this long without becoming water self. It took a toll on more than just her body; it took a toll on her state of mind and emotional well-being.

  Under the spray, she closed her eyes and tried to mimic the act of dissolving. Surrendering herself to the moisture around her, joining with it, flowing as one. Water coursing through the earth…surrounding…flowing…joining with the moisture of the lakes, streams, the salty tang of the ocean…

  She opened her eyes. Imagining it wasn’t doing it.

  Once she’d finished her shower, the ache in her muscles and the fatigue she felt were worse than ever. Cranky and losing hope, she stumbled out of the bathroom with her damp hair loose around her shoulders and wearing a pair of soft jogging pants and a T-shirt. The cottage smelled of eggs and sausage.