“You never call; you never write. I came all this way looking for you and find you walking down a county road, as though you don’t have a care in the world.”
Dylan didn’t answer. He didn’t look at Ulric. He just walked, casting out his senses, trying to find the demon. Tension in the air told him it was near, and if it was close, so were the rogues. And everyone inside Arcada was in danger.
“Where’s my machine elf?”
“I haven’t captured him yet.” Might as well play along. He finally glanced at Ulric and was once again amazed at the harmless-looking man who’d devastated so many lives. All for the sake of gold. Money. Gems. Whatever form of filthy lucre he could get his hands on. As Ulric didn’t believe in the banking systems, somewhere his cache was stashed away, either in an enchanted cave or deep under the ground—maybe even in an ocean somewhere.
Hell, he’d probably loaded the Titanic’s hold with his loot and arranged for the iceberg.
“You’ve been here months. You’ve been inside the town, yet you come out empty-handed. Why Dylan, is it that you really do care for me?”
He didn’t even bother giving the other fae a look; he just kept walking, and Ulric kept talking. “Seriously, you’ve always been the model of efficiency. Whether it’s fae or human or vampire, you always capture your target. Why is a young gremlin so difficult to catch?”
“Arcada is surprisingly effective at protecting those she shelters.”
“Well, I got into Homewood.”
“You burned down a forest to do so,” Dylan bit out. “Not so easy to do that sort of thing without firefighters and smoke jumpers crawling down your ass these days.”
“Yes, damn it anyway.” Ulric sounded truly irate about that fact. “So the town kicked you out?”
He wasn’t able to lie without the geas giving him away, so Dylan opted for the truth. “The town gave me an option: to spare the young man or leave. As I couldn’t exactly spare the gremlin…”
“She booted you out on your pretty little ass!” Ulric crowed in humor.
Dylan glanced at him again. His voice still held a broad trace of North Country English, though he’d adapted well to modern language. He wasn’t tall, wasn’t short. He was neither handsome nor ugly, which was unusual for a fae. Perhaps there’d been some outcrossing to humans in his lines. Today he wore fresh-off-the-shelf denim jeans, a plaid cowboy shirt, a hat, and pointed-toe boots. They must have been dreadfully uncomfortable to walk in. His clothing was still creased from being folded.
He must have shopped at a feed store somewhere, thinking he’d blend in with the Americans.
Dylan didn’t roll his eyes or find even a shred of amusement in it, because there was nothing funny about Ulric. Nothing gentle or harmless, in spite of his mild-mannered expression. The bastard was cold, ruthless, and shamelessly selfish.
If he saw something, he took it. That included people. Dylan had once seen him take a child because he liked her white-blonde curls and cornflower-blue eyes. It was his great good fortune that Ulric was generally glad to keep Dylan on a loose leash, allowing him to live as he chose. After years of the cave, he appreciated that blessing.
“Damn, it’s cold as a witch’s titty here.” Ulric grinned. No doubt he’d picked up that saying at the feed store he’d shopped at. “So where we going?”
“Hadn’t given it much thought. Back to the motel, I suppose.”
“Motel, eh? Where’s your car? I assume you didn’t walk that distance getting in.”
“A bunch of wolf shifters have it.”
“Ah, that would explain the healing, then. I was worried about you, Dylan.”
“Thank you.”
Ulric laid a hand on his arm. “Seriously, I was worried. We’ve had a long haul, Dylan Ryve. I was almost hoping you’d fail. You haven’t failed, have you?” His pale eyes strayed first to Dylan’s covered wrists and then to his neck. Unfortunately the shirt he wore left his skin exposed.
“I have not failed. I still seek closure to this hunt.” Not a lie, and it seemed to divert Ulric from his suspicion. Instead the fae captured Dylan’s hand and laced their fingers together.
“Good. We have a little time together. Before the new man comes on board.” He squeezed Dylan’s hand, and his skin crawled as he remembered what this man had done to him in the past. As long as his village still existed, he had never dared refuse Ulric. When that threat lost its power, Ulric forced his hand by bringing other “lovers” who were often young and unwilling. Swallowing, he recalled his night with Travis and let the memory sustain him. Ulric must never know of Travis and his family. He must never find out about Pim and Kell and sweet, pretty Melody. He must never know just how young and brilliant Jason really was.
They were nearing the motel, and to his disgust, Ulric still clasped his hand. His stomach churned as they drew closer. The snow rose in dirty embankments on either side of the road, a sad contrast to the pristine white they’d been when he’d chased Travis to the town limits. He heard a car approach. Its tires were chained, and as it rattled past, the horn honked.
“Faggots!”
He sighed, and Ulric chuckled, swinging their linked hands. “You know, a lot of interesting people live around this area. I guess that’s not surprising, considering the level of magic here. It’s nearly on par with that place I liberated you from.” Dylan tried to pull his hand away, but Ulric held on. “Don’t be so touchy, my dear. Anyhow, interesting people.”
Alarm swept through Dylan. Ulric had something, and he couldn’t figure out what. For a brief, blinding moment, he thought maybe his master had captured Travis, but he tamped down the panic, aware that his hands were sweating. They reached the parking lot, and Dylan headed toward the end room. His possessions were gone, all in the trunk of his car, but he’d paid ahead through the end of the year. He no longer had the key but didn’t need one.
As they reached the center of the lot, he smelled it.
Smoke.
He broke loose, whirled, and spotted a black plume rising in the direction of the town. His heart nearly seized. Fire. The demon was using fire!
Next to him Ulric chuckled.
“As I was saying, interesting people hereabouts. I met a lovely man named Conar and his oh-so-seductive mate. Yes, shifters. And they were so worried about their missing pack members. Of course I was delighted to be able to assist them.”
“You told them to start a fire? A fire?”
“It was an effective diversion when I used it before, don’t you agree?” He tugged Dylan’s sleeve. Dylan turned, knowing the horror he felt showed on his face.
“What did they promise in return?”
The true evil that dwelled in the man before him suddenly shone from his face, his eyes. His face twisted into an ugly mask.
“Simple, really, my dear. They promised to deliver my young gremlin. The moment you chose to leave him free, the geas whispered in my ear. So when the wolves bring him to me, I’ll have a brand-new toy, and yet I’ll still have my favorite old toy.” He caught a strand of Dylan’s hair and played with it. “Now that I know how unfaithful you are to your promises, I’ll be watching you much more closely, Dylan.” He jerked sharply on Dylan’s hair. “And if you’re good, I’ll let you watch me train him when you aren’t hunting. Because what’s a boy like that really good for anyway, beyond fixing cars and fucking?”
The room was buzzing. Or maybe it was the blood in Travis’s ears. He listened to the voices rising and falling around him, aware of only one thing: Dylan was setting out to sacrifice himself. Slowly he looked into the grim gazes of Kell and Pim. Like him, Jason was stunned; his tanned skin was now sickly pale. Around them chaos had broken out; Blacque and Dane were up and running, and James dashed down to the basement. Something big had happened, and it had passed right over his head.
He looked down to see the box was now directly in front of him. Someone had removed his uneaten food, and Melody was the only pack member remaining.
“
Hold Dylan’s pendant in your hand as you open the box.”
“Why?” He looked at Kell in question, but it was Pim who answered.
“By giving you the family crest, Dylan basically proclaimed that you are his consort, his chosen and a member of his clan. And when he gave us his personal pendant to give to you, he sent us to witness…his final bequest.”
“Bequest? But…I don’t understand.”
Melody stroked his hand. “He doesn’t expect to return. By arranging witnesses to your receiving his crest, he’s made you his heir.”
“No.” Tears filled his eyes. “No, because he’s not dead. And we can stop this. I know we can.”
“If he survives the encounter with the demon, then his future is forfeit. His life literally belongs to Ulric now. He violated the geas when he abandoned the hunt for Jason.”
“Oh, Travis, I’m so sorry!” Jason’s eyes were red-rimmed, and his hands didn’t simply tremble—they quaked. “I was so afraid. I thought…I thought he was going to kill me!”
“You were his last hunt, Jason. I suppose you were to be Dylan’s replacement.” Melody’s voice was gentle. “Dylan probably found that idea more heinous than killing you.”
If it was possible, Jason looked even worse.
Though he didn’t want to, Travis lifted the lid from the box. Before, there’d been a few small keepsakes inside; now he clearly saw a false bottom. After lifting out the other items, he pried it up and found a thick packet. Inside, documents were stacked. Some were old and yellowed, while others were new. He opened one, and his eyes went wide in shock. He set the stack on the table, and Melody lifted a small book.
“It’s a bank account. There have been regular—rather large—deposits going in for over fifty years.” She set that aside and picked through the stack. “A safety-deposit box at a bank in New York.”
Travis unfolded a new, crisp set of documents. He nearly laughed in surprise. “He owns the Roadhouse! Bought it about three months ago.” Unwilling to continue, Travis replaced the documents, shaken by how wealthy the fae was. There were accounts in numerous countries, keys to boxes and vaults, and titles to dozens of properties in multiple cities, including Manhattan, Hong Kong, and London. Big properties—hotels and office buildings—all drawing major incomes. Stocks, bonds, and gold certificates.
None of those items were as precious as the pendant around his neck.
Dane hurried out of his office, followed by Blacque. In the distance Travis heard cars coming up the long drive. He stood, catching a scent in the air.
“What is it?” Pim and Kell also rose, fear showing in their posture.
“Fire. There’s a fire on the ridge, near the city limits.” Dane looked around the room. “Mel, you start the phone tree. Get everyone assembled at Blacque’s garage, ready to fight. Outside firefighters are coming. They’ll handle the fire. If I’m right, the rogues are behind this.”
James ran up the stairs and into the room. “Deacon says they have no idea what’s going on, but he and Brenden both feel the presence of their alpha. Calum has lapsed back into a coma.”
The alpha jammed his arms into an old barn coat.
“Travis…” Dane broke off, his face grim “Go find him. Try and get him back into town. We could use his skills against the demon and…and what will come after. Just don’t let yourself get killed.” Travis stood on quaking legs. He looked down at his mother. She got up and hugged him.
“Go find him. Do what you can.”
“Mama, I don’t want you alone here. This is going to be bad, with the rogues. I don’t want you to—”
“Travis, she’s got a role in this. I can’t leave those rogues downstairs alone, and I need James in the field. If he gets hurt, she’s our only healer.” Dane put an arm around his shoulder. “She’ll be safe. I promise.”
Travis looked steadily into Dane’s dark eyes and saw the truth there. He nodded.
“I can help.” Pim stood, ignoring Kell as he clasped her arm, trying to pull her back down. She smiled at him sadly. “The fire, I mean. It’s my element. I can help.”
“Pim, no…”
She leaned down and kissed him gently. “I’ll be fine, baby. Just stay here with Melody. Help her keep an eye on things.”
“Pim…” Before he could stop her, she was out the door and up the road, a bright plume of flame searing toward the fire. “Pim.” Kell looked lost, his dark eyes full of fear.
Travis fished the Mustang keys from his pocket and started for the door, then grabbed his leather jacket from a peg in the mudroom. He dashed out to the drive to find Jason standing by Dylan’s black sedan.
“We’ll take his car instead.” Jason clutched the keys in his hand.
Travis stopped, gaping at the young fae. Gone was the stricken guilt; in its place was grim determination. “Okay, but I’ll drive.” Wonder boy might be a miracle worker with mechanics, but he was a lousy driver. Slow as someone’s granny. In seconds they were speeding down the driveway, turning out onto the highway, and heading for the town limits.
He had no clue where to go but knew where he planned to check first.
Being this close to Ulric caused the marks on his skin to burn and glow. Dylan tried to think of a way to break free, but he was helplessly bound to the will of the other man. This was no longer the contract he’d lived with so long. Now he was a slave—well and truly. If Ulric told him to lick his boots, Dylan would be on his knees. The only saving grace was that thus far, the other fae didn’t seem aware of his power over Dylan.
Ulric lounged on the queen-size bed while Dylan stood as far away as possible, doing his best not to look at his master. If he’d known—if he’d had any clue that the default would make him Ulric’s pet—he might very well have taken his own life.
“So here are the new rules. From now on you attend me. If I give you instructions, you will follow them to the letter. Do you understand?”
“I understand.” He didn’t want to utter the words, but if he didn’t, his rebellion would lead to punishment that would be much, much worse than the present humiliation.
“Your main task is to protect me at all costs. At the moment I have no other hunts for you. But when I do, you will carry them out as I order, without question.” He didn’t seem to require Dylan’s response. Ulric patted around on the bed, searching for the remote to the television. He busied himself surfing until he found the subscription channels. He found the porn and bit his bottom lip as he arrowed through the offerings, then finally selected a noisy Girls Gone Wild sort of movie. As a crowd of busty blondes appeared on the screen, giggling and flashing titty, Ulric unfastened his pants and pulled his cock from his fly, then pumped it till he was erect. He watched, fixated on the screen, casually batting his swollen shaft back and forth.
Dylan swallowed, his throat parched. He stared at the wall, trying not to watch as his master slowly masturbated to the action in the film. His legs began to ache, and with every second that ticked by, his dread mounted. The smell of smoke now seeped through the ventilation, carried in every time the heater pumped stale air into the room. In the distance he heard sirens and possibly a helicopter.
How would they battle a fire in the heart of winter? The snow would make much of the forest inaccessible. Hopefully it would also hamper the fire. But if Ulric and a demon were involved, there was no telling how bad the fire was. It would surely defy normal methods of firefighting.
He thought of Travis and knew in his gut that the pack understood the fire was only a diversion. Somewhere they were assembling, readying themselves to face off against the rogues who would take advantage of the chaos to scramble past Arcada’s defenses. He tried desperately to relax into a state where he could connect with the entity that was Arcada, but it was hopeless. Seeing Ulric had destroyed his composure. Feeling the abrupt loss of his free will left him shattered. For the moment all his brain could understand was eternity in service to the man he hated more than anyone—more than anything—in the world.
And he’d just vowed to protect the bastard. At all costs.
On the bed, Ulric stroked faster, his gaze fixed on the screen. He’d always had a preference for blondes; the age and gender were irrelevant. Ulric’s hair was a rather ordinary light brown. Dylan wondered why. What made him so locked into a pattern of repetition? Briefly Dylan remembered Rufus Brown. He’d killed all manner of young women, and though he crossed race, Brown favored a particular body type.
Dylan had noted that trend in the killers he’d hunted over the years. Age, career, physical traits, and other commonalities linked the victims. He never spent the time wondering why. Now he watched Ulric from the edge of his gaze and wondered what had made the mercenary so cruel and heartless. What had shaped the man who was a serial killer in his own right? Whatever the cause, he was smart and a master strategist. His bound assassins were merely weapons that were more entertaining than a knife or poison.
Now, though, he was beating off like a pimpled teen, his skin flushed and his mouth slightly open. His hand blurred, and if he held true to what Dylan remembered, Ulric would plateau, unable to finish. And his anger would flare and spread to whoever was unlucky enough to be closest.
“Dylan, get over here and finish me.”
He winced, knowing it wasn’t going to be easy.
His feet were moving before Dylan could think to refuse.
Sirens blared, and Travis pulled to the side to let the old red fire truck roll past. What good would a few fire trucks do against a blaze up in the mountains? They might control traffic or set up barriers, but he suddenly realized how little there was they could do from within the town.
Overhead a forestry helicopter sped past, no doubt full of smoke jumpers or chemical fire retardants. He looked away and focused on the road. He had no clue what they were facing with Dylan. He didn’t know if the fae was dead or alive, or if he’d be able and willing to return home. How crazy that he’d even consider facing a demon!
Silver-Steel Page 24
