On the Edge te-1

by Ilona Andrews

  He kissed her neck again, and it took all of her will not to rub her back against him like a kitten eager for a stroke. Oh, get ahold of yourself. Don’t be melting for him—that’s exactly what he wants.

  “Nice kiss,” she heard herself say. “But no thanks.”

  She took his hands off her body. “You still have two challenges,” she reminded him and escaped through the house onto the porch.

  SEVENTEEN

  OUTSIDE the sun shone bright, the early afternoon in full bloom. Rose breathed in deep, trying to calm herself. Part of her wanted to run back into the house; the other part laughed in cynical disbelief. Run and do what? Yell, “Here I am, take me, take me?”

  She shrugged it off. She had to give it to Declan. The man could seduce. Not that he had to try terribly hard, considering the way he looked and what easy pickings she was. “You’ll be completely safe, Rose, blah-blah-blah.” Yeah, right. Safe. Eventually she would have to go back there and look him in the eye. She had no clue how she would manage that.

  He was staying in her house, which meant some hard-and-fast rules were in order. No watching him while he waved his sword around in the morning. No thinking about him, unless it was about how she would win a challenge and kick his ass to the curb. No—

  A man stood in the middle of the lawn, just beyond the ward line. He shimmered lightly, dark and translucent, as if made of many layers of dark panty hose. A hood hid his face, but she saw his hands. They were the mottled bruised color of the hounds’ hide.

  “It’s taken you a while to notice me, my dear,” he said. His voce was cultured and soft and he rolled his r’s slightly. Just like Declan. “I was right. You’re delicious.”

  What in the hell is that?

  She stepped down off the porch and approached the man slowly. He seemed to float out of a puddle of the gray goo that served as hounds’ blood, and as she came near, she saw the bodies of two hounds rapidly dissolving into it.

  The closer she got, the stronger the stench of the magic became. A little more. Close enough so her flash wouldn’t miss if she had to use it. “Who are you?” she asked.

  “I’m Lord Casshorn Eratres Sandine.” The figure dipped his head in a smooth bow. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance. Although really, politeness is unnecessary under the circumstances, but old habits die hard, you understand. You must forgive me this small indulgence.”

  Casshorn, the man who’d adopted Declan’s changeling friend. A streak of alarm bit into her spine with icy fangs. That couldn’t be a coincidence. She tried to show nothing and keep her voice calm. “The hounds that attack us, do they belong to you?”

  “In the strictest sense of the word, they belong to no one. But I lead them and intend to continue directing their actions.” He sounded so completely reasonable, as if he were her guest, discussing the latest gossip while drinking tea on her porch. “I am . . . a part of them. And they are now a part of me. It’s a most curious symbiosis.”

  He raised his hand and showed it to her. The beginnings of black claws tipped his deformed, too-long fingers. His skin matched the color of the hounds, just a shade paler. “We are one,” he said. A dark curtain of magic unwrapped and surged from him, streaming along the boundary of her ward and flaring up. Bright veins of purple and yellow twisted within it, like capillaries.

  The magic flailed and pounded at the ward, trying to break through. She jerked back, but the stones held.

  “Why are you killing us?”

  “For your magic. Your deaths are incidental to the process. It is very simple, really. Your bodies contain magic. My hounds collect it and bring it back to me, permitting me to produce more hounds, et cetera, et cetera. I must confess, the process of draining the magic awakens baser instincts in me. A need to rend and tear into the flesh. To taste. It’s an exquisite, almost painful ecstasy. And no matter how much I indulge, my hunger is never fully satisfied. I can continue on for quite some time without becoming satiated.” He laughed softly, and she nearly retched.

  “You realize that you’re killing people? Whole families. Children.”

  “Of course,” he chided gently and leaned forward to the ward, as if trying to tell her a secret. “To be thoroughly honest, I never cared for people. They are a bothersome lot, preoccupied with duty, expectations, and the minutiae of their lives.” He rubbed his fingers as if trying to shake something from them. “I have done that, my dear. I’ve climbed the mountain of human ambition, and at the top I’ve found yet another mountain, alas with no lotuses of fulfillment in bloom.”

  “I think you might be insane,” she said.

  “Sanity is overrated compared to happiness, my dear. Taking possession of you, ripping sweet strips of flesh from your body and swallowing them whole, sucking on their juice, would make me infinitely happier than all the wisdom and ability to reason that the human race has to offer. And that brings me to the purpose of my visit. You’ve permitted Declan under your roof.”

  “And?”

  “Declan has a problem. You see, he can’t kill me if he doesn’t find me. So he dangles you and your brothers in front of me like pieces of delectable candy. You’re so . . .” He sighed. “Magical. Tempting. Make no mistake, my dear, I’ll kill you. Declan knows it as well as I do. He’s simply hoping to force me to kill you on his terms. If he were to go looking for me, he would have to face the wolf, and he doesn’t wish it. They were friends once, he and the wolf.”

  Anger built inside her. “And why would you be telling me this?”

  “Your lives are of no use to you.” He pointed at the house behind her. “You squat in filth and poverty upon this pitiful chunk of land, like rats on some enormous garbage heap between two thriving civilizations. Why fight, when the conclusion is foregone? No help will come for you. Sooner or later, all of you will be mine.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  Casshorn looked past her. “Tell her, Declan. Tell her I’m right.”

  “I see you’ve added insanity to the list of your shortcomings,” Declan’s icy voice said.

  “Why must you be so unreasonable? I’ll have you.” Casshorn sighed. “I ate a man last night. Unfortunately, my hounds usually devour their targets, but this man was sent to me as a special gift. I ate him quickly, with much greed, and the rapture of feeling his magic flow into me is the only thing I now have. It is my sustenance, my goal, and my addiction, and I’ll do anything to taste it again. There will be no escape. Why prolong the agony? I offer you a chance to become something useful. Nourish me. Become part of me and mine.”

  “I see.” Rose put her hands on her hips. “Here is how it’s going to go: I’ll kill your hounds, then I’ll find you and kill you, and then my brothers will use your head for a soccer ball. That way you’ll be converted into something useful. Good-bye now.”

  She stepped over the ward line to get a clear shot. His greedy magic streamed to her. Her anger exploded in a wave of brilliant white, burning the puddle and the hound’s body to nothing. Casshorn vanished.

  Rose turned slowly and saw Declan standing on the porch.

  “YOU lied to me!” Rose struggled to keep her fury under control. “You pretended to want to marry me, bullied me into these idiotic challenges, and all the while you were trying to kill Casshorn.”

  “I didn’t lie. I just let you draw the wrong conclusions,” he said grimly.

  Her anger made everything crystal clear. “What’s the name of your friend, Declan? The one who turns into a wolf, the one Casshorn adopted?”

  “William,” Declan said.

  Oh, my dear God.

  “The man you’ve met may not be the same William,” Declan said.

  “Of course it’s the same William! I just came back from cutting my ex-boss from a tree, where a changeling wolf had put him! He wrapped him in plastic, hung him upside down, and left me a trail of car chunks so I could find him. William knows who Emerson is. He specifically asked me about him the last time we spoke. What is the matter with the two of
you? Do you think this is some sort of a game? That thing was right, wasn’t he? We’re nothing more than bait to you.”

  Declan’s eyes frosted over with white. “Rose, his mind was oozing out of his ears before he even started this mess. He’s unraveling; surely you can see that! He was never a real soldier, or a real scientist, or a real noble, and now he isn’t even a real human being. He’s blundered into power, and it consumed him, and now he must be put down like a rabid dog. At his end, nobody will mourn, and he recognizes that. You can’t believe anything he says.”

  She brushed his arguments aside. He had lied to her. She actually thought there might be something between them. Yes, she knew better, and yes, the whole challenges deal was a huge strike against him, but everything else about him felt so right. She was so mad, she couldn’t even see straight. Mad at him for lying, mad at herself for buying the lie, and mad at the world because once again she was just the means to someone else’s end. The anger sat in her chest and hurt.

  “Where did you take Jack this morning?”

  “I took him to the Wood.”

  “To what purpose? Don’t lie to me, Declan, because I’ll go and get my brother and he will tell me the truth.”

  “I instructed him to follow the hounds’ trail.”

  “Are you out of your mind? He’s a child!”

  Declan’s jaw took on a stubborn set. “He’s also a changeling. He’s smart, cunning, and fast. He was never in any significant danger. I was always within half a mile from him.”

  “So because he’s a changeling, that makes him expendable?” she snapped. “Or is it because he’s a mongrel?”

  “You’re not listening. Jack was in no danger.”

  “I’m sorry. I seem to have been mistaken. The hounds are just some fluffy, harmless bunnies. That’s why an hour ago you bled all over my kitchen.”

  “That’s a completely different situation. I was alone in cramped quarters without my ability to flash. Jack was in the tree canopy under strict orders to run to me the moment he sensed the hounds.”

  “And much good it would do him. They would be on him in the trees before you could get your sword out.”

  Declan growled. “You baby the children, Rose. Especially Jack.”

  She glared at him.

  “He’s a predator. He’s eight years old, and George is ten. Neither is educated in basic self-defense or blade work. George doesn’t know how to properly hold a knife. Jack told me he has never ridden a horse. How do you expect them to survive? They can’t cling to your skirt forever.”

  Her voice caught in her throat, and for a second she couldn’t speak. “You barge into our life, you practically force yourself on me, and now you question how I raise my brothers. Who the hell do you think you are? You try it, Declan. You try raising two boys when you’re goddamn eighteen years old, your mother’s dead, your father has taken off, you’re working a below-minimum-wage job that makes you fall over from exhaustion every night, while half of your town is out hunting you so they can sell you to the highest bidder!”

  “I didn’t say you were doing a poor job, but you can’t teach them everything.”

  “Before I throw you out, answer one question,” she squeezed out through clenched teeth. “Why us? Why me? Why the whole marrying ruse?”

  “The hounds are attracted to magic. I followed their trail to a house,” he said. “And then a beautiful girl came out, leveled a crossbow at me, and declared she wouldn’t sleep with me. I played along.”

  “You played along.” Bitterness dripped from her words. “Do you have any idea how scared I was? How much I worried that you might drag me off, leaving the kids behind, or that you might kill them? Do you know how much anxiety your playing along has cost me? Get out.”

  He sat on the porch and smiled, showing her his teeth like a flash of a sword blade in the scabbard. “I don’t think so.”

  “What?”

  “We had an agreement. I haven’t breached it, so the fault lies with you. Therefore, you must issue a refund, and you can’t. You spent the money.”

  She opened her mouth and clamped it shut. “You’ll get your money,” she managed finally.

  “Until then, I’ll remain here. Like it or not, I’ll protect you, and I’ll use any excuse to do it. More, you’re bound by our oath. We both swore to go through the three challenges, and I expect you to issue a second one.”

  “I’m through playing,” she said.

  “I’m not. The world doesn’t revolve around your whims.”

  “Leave!” she demanded.

  “Hell no. I would be a fool to walk away. You’re one of a kind, Rose. I want you, and I’ll fight to have you.”

  “Well, I don’t want you.”

  “Be that as it may, you have to continue with the challenges. If you don’t, there will be a magic flashback, and neither of us knows what form it will take. You and I could both die, and where would that leave your brothers?”

  Once again she was backed into a corner. “I hate you,” she said.

  He offered her a pleasant smile. “I’ll take that over indifference. Although I do find you much more attractive when you don’t scream and throw a tantrum like a child.”

  “If I don’t scream, I’ll fry you.”

  He jumped off the porch and loomed before her. “Do it. You want to take it to the next step, then let’s go. But you won’t like it. I’m not one of your local boys. I know how to defend myself.”

  Magic shimmered around her. His power flared around him. She clenched her teeth.

  The screen door banged, and Jack’s voice recited, “Grandma said to tell you to please fight quieter. You’ll wake Georgie.”

  Rose closed her eyes and forced herself to exhale slowly. She heard Declan releasing his breath and felt the pressure of his magic ease.

  “You’ll have your challenge as soon as Georgie wakes up,” she said calmly when she could speak.

  “I look forward to it, my Lady Camarine,” he said.

  She marched past him into the house and very carefully closed the door.

  EIGHTEEN

  GEORGIE woke up the next morning around ten. Rose had checked on him three times by then, and when she finally saw his blue eyes looking back at her, her knees went weak and she had to lean against the door frame.

  “Well, there you are,” she said. “How are you feeling?”

  “Okay,” he said.

  She came closer, sat on his bed, and touched her lips to his forehead. He felt dry and warm. No trace of a fever. “Declan told me you called him.”

  “He was closer,” Georgie murmured. “I couldn’t find you. You were too far.”

  Guilt clutched at her. “I’m sorry.”

  “What happened?” he asked.

  She told him.

  “I tried to tell you about the wolf and Casshorn,” he said. “But you had to hurry to work, and then I forgot.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said again. “The next time you have something important to tell me, I’ll listen, no matter what. I tell you what—I’ll go and get us some tea and funnel cake, and you can tell me all about it.”

  “There is funnel cake?” Georgie’s eyes lit up.

  “I made some especially for you. You’re the hero. Heroes always get funnel cake.”

  She came back, and he told her the whole story between bites of funnel cake and sips of raspberry tea. The more he talked, the clearer the picture became in her head.

  “I see,” she said finally. She saw quite well now. Declan following her into the Broken. His stubborn insistence on staying in her house. She was still angry at him. Very, very angry. But certain aspects of his behavior finally made sense.

  She regretted her loss of temper. A lot had happened in the last few days: Declan’s presence, the hounds, losing her job, the attack on Georgie. Any event by itself was enough to upset her, but together they turned her into an emotional pressure cooker. All of it had to come out somehow. She just wished it hadn’t come out quite th
e way it did, in front of Declan, who no doubt thought she was throwing a tantrum. It’s hard to convince someone to listen to you and leave your house when you’re raving too loud to be taken seriously.

  “So what happens now?” Georgie asked.

  “Now I need your help for my second challenge to Declan.” She hesitated. “Do you think you’re strong enough to walk?”

  Georgie nodded.

  “I’m sorry to ask this of you, but I need you to come to the porch.”

  “I need the bathroom first,” he said.

  “Do you need help getting there?”

  Georgie gave her a long look. She sighed and left him to it. When she finally got married, if she ever got married, she hoped her first child would be a cute little girl. A cute, sweet, harmless little girl.

  ÉLÉONORE stepped into the kitchen, mentally steeling herself. She had only a few minutes before Rose would return from Georgie’s room.

  Declan rose at her approach with a polite shallow bow and a narrow smile. “Bonjour, Madame.”

  “Bonjour, Monsieur.” She sat into a chair and continued in French. “I would like to speak about my granddaughter.”

  His face turned cold. The smile remained, but it gained that polite, icy tint the bluebloods adopted when they wanted to strangle the conversation with courtesy.

  “I want there to be no misunderstandings,” she continued. “This isn’t an attempt on my part to broker some sort of tryst between the two of you. On the contrary.”

  His eyebrows crept up a fraction of an inch. He really was a blindingly handsome boy. “Do you find me unworthy of your granddaughter, Madame?”

  Inwardly Éléonore groaned. She was out of practice. “I have no doubt as to your pedigree. I merely wish you to understand the situation clearly. If you’re willing to listen, of course.”

  “I’m all ears, Madame,” he assured her.

  Éléonore took a deep breath. “My husband abandoned me a number of times during our marriage. I say this not to gain some sympathy for myself. It’s simply a fact. He loved me passionately, but he loved the sea more. Because I suffered without him, I did my best to raise my son with a sense of responsibility for his family. Unfortunately, I failed miserably. Just like his father, John abandoned his wife and children frequently. Growing up, Rose had learned that ‘father’ is a temporary presence in one’s life.”