“I see.”
I’m still wondering if the tone of his reply is a good or bad thing when he steps out of the shadows and—despite my determination not to react—a shiver runs down my spine.
Xavier is a stern-looking Korean man with a medium build and a trim beard and mustache. Nothing screams ‘vampire’ to look at him, but he does have oddly caramel-colored eyes. The warm, golden hue of his gaze makes me wonder if they’re contacts or a weird side effect of his transition into a predator of the night.
It’s strange enough that something feels off when you look at him, but not so obvious that you’d go screaming down the street if you met up with him in a dark alley.
I suppose that’s how they survive living in the city among humans without being detected. If they were pasty white with fangs and blood-red eyes, it would be hard to keep their true natures under wraps.
I brush my hands up and down my bare arms to ward off the chill. ”We retrieved your three missing humans from the police station. It appears that no one looked too closely into why they were dazed and confused.”
Suede reaches out and takes hold of my arm. The gesture seems innocent enough, but by the grip she’s using, I know she’s getting ready to cut and run if necessary. “It was fortunate that Fiona and her family have ties within the police force and could step in.”
Xavier nods. “I shall always give credit where it’s due. That was helpful in an unfortunate moment.”
My stomach squirrels and I press a hand against the wall to steady myself.
“Fi? Are you all right?”
“Yeah, sorry. Meat sweats. I ate too much.”
“There you are.” Nikon saunters down the hall to join us. “Sloan and I came to check on where our dates disappeared to. We didn’t realize there was a parley in the facilities hallway we were missing out on.”
Sloan looks at me and frowns. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m fine. Just queasy all of a sudden.”
Nikon frowns. “Sloan, you and the boys take Fi home. Suede and I will take care of the assessment and check in when we’re done.”
I open my mouth to argue but close it as quickly, afraid I might throw up. As much as I want to finish my first task assigned to me by the Guild and prove myself, I cave and take the out. “Thanks, guys. And thank you for the wonderful dinner.” I squeeze Suede’s hand and kiss Nikon on the cheek. “It was a great time, but yeah, I need some air.”
Sloan returns to the table and comes back a moment later with my coat, my purse, and my brothers. The six of us take advantage of the shadowed hallway and poof out of the restaurant straight into my back yard. The crisp, October air hits my face. I try to breathe it in and tamp down nausea.
What’s wrong, Red? Bruin’s alarm surges within me, and I can’t take the turmoil.
It sets my stomach roiling.
I blink as the yard spins, and I stagger a couple of feet. Twisting to break free of Sloan’s hold, I drop to my knees. I’m barely doubled over before my stomach unloads my Cornish hen into my patch of black-eyed Susans.
From that moment, all manner of calm ends. Someone grabs my hair as voices echo and swirl in my head. “What’s happening?” “Did they poison her?” “What do we do?”
I turn to tell them I’m fine when the night sky somersaults above.
“Fiona!”
Chapter Four
My eyes pop wide, and I’m lying on my bed. Sloan is brushing my hair back from my face and assessing me with his gaze. “Fi, I need to examine ye. Can I lift yer dress?”
The thundering stampede of footsteps coming up the stairs signals the arrival of my family.
“In her room,” Dillan shouts.
“Fi, yer dress. May I?”
I swallow against the acidic burn of vomit and the sensation of my throat closing. Oh, gawd, I need a bucket.
“Just do it,” Da snaps while rushing in. “We’ll not hold it against ye if yer tryin’ to save her life. Calum, help the man.”
I’m jostled and rolled. Cold air hits my heated flesh, and I’m shivering so hard I can hear my teeth chatter.
“Fucking hell,” Dillan mutters.
“So, not food poisoning, then,” Emmet says.
Sloan twists and points at my vanity. “Emmet, hand me one of the vials Dora sent over.”
There’s a shuffle and a lot of cursing, then Dillan scoops up my head and dumps liquid manure down my throat. Our friend Pan Dora—Merlin in a former life—was one of the greatest druids of all time and has been working to keep me from becoming possessed by a dark bond I made with Morgan le Fey’s grimoire.
I gag and sputter as the rancid liquid hits the back of my tongue. Despite my body’s instinct to reject the potion, I somehow manage to get most of it down my throat.
“Niall, it’s time,” Sloan snaps. “Enough is enough. I need to take her now. I checked her leg last night. For it to get this bad this quickly, it’s way too much for us to be guessin’ at what’s happenin’. We need my father.”
There’s a great muttering of frustrated male voices, and I black out.
I rise from the depths of the cold dread and try to gain a sense of time and place. We’re still in my bedroom, but the shouting has stopped. My red suitcase is packed and beside the bed. Sloan, Emmet, and Calum are with me as Da picks me up.
“Everyone ready?”
The next time I open my eyes, I’m lying on the stainless steel table in Wallace’s clinic while people mumble and fuss. I’ve been stripped down to my panties on the bottom half of my body, and Sloan’s got a cloth pressed against my forehead. He’s saying something, but I don’t understand…
Why can’t I understand him?
Tears heat my cheeks, then Calum and Emmet are there, and they clutch my hands. Calum sings my favorite song from when we were kids, and the tune vibrates from a distance. It’s like hearing carnival music from a couple of streets over.
Dillan pushes in. He brushes my tears and drops his face to my neck. ”Fight, Fi. It’s bad, so you need to really dig deep and fight to stay with us.”
I don’t feel like fighting. I want to be wrapped in a warm blanket and cocoon for a long sleep. I’m so tired.
“Here we are again, Fiona.” Wallace looks at me from down the table. “Ye’ve had a rough go it seems. Don’t worry. We’re takin’ good care of ye now.”
I recognize the people with Wallace. They were the ones who saved Liam when I was here last time.
That’s good. Maybe they have another big win in them.
My eyes are heavy but every time I close them, Calum or Sloan or someone else shakes me.
Rude much?
“Fiona, look at me, mo chroi.” Da’s voice holds the stern censure he only pulls out in the direst of moments. “Ye need to stay awake. Fight the urge to sleep until the serum starts workin’. Do ye hear me, luv? We need ye to stay awake.”
I’m so tired…
And I feel…
My stomach writhes, and Sloan rolls me to the side. There’s a dish there to catch what I spew up. I grimace at the sight of what I expelled. It’s a deep, dark green.
My heart lurches.
That can’t be good.
“Well, that can’t be good,” Dillan snaps.
Right?
“It’s the book’s poison.” Sloan hands Emmet the basin to rinse while he refreshes his cloth.
“Then it’s good she’s puking it up, right?” Calum says.
Sloan frowns and his current scowl is even direr than his everyday version. “We don’t know. None of us has ever dealt with anything like this before.”
Another wave of chills racks me. “C-c-c-cold.”
“I’m sorry, baby girl.” Calum rubs my arms. “They need your fever to break. Then, I swear, we’ll snuggle you up in fleece and blankets and settle you in front of a fire.”
“Sack up, Cumhaill.” Da pushes in beside me. “Grit yer teeth and bear it, luv. The worst of it is over now. Wallace and his people have things we
ll in hand.”
For all the skills my father excels at, lying isn’t one of them. Maybe this isn’t going to end well for me after all.
Damn it, and life was just getting interesting.
Death is a cruel asshole—a trickster even. Good men get shot in the streets and die protecting the innocent. Mothers get sick and leave their families behind. Yappy dogs fly across the front lawn and get snapped up by hungry coyotes. More often than not, life and death have nothing to do with growing old and our bodies passing into the next iteration of existence.
It’s more random than that.
One minute you’re sucked back into medieval times and watching the jugglers practice in the courtyard of an ancient castle. The next you’re internalizing an evil grimoire and poisoning yourself for the sake of humanity.
Who would’ve guessed that was a bad idea?
Except tricksters also possess a twisted sense of humor.
Lying there, all comfy and warm, I’m not sure what happened or what to expect next. I open my eyes a crack. No glorious white light surrounds me. No puffy white clouds with cherubim angels strumming their harps within sight.
Nope. Plaid flannel sheets twist around me as I lay crowded and slightly crushed in a massive wooden four-poster bed.
I study the nature scene carved into the paneled ceiling of the antique bed and smile in recognition. King Henry. Not many men could pull off an antique of this size and style.
Sloan can.
Lifting my head, I realize why it’s so dark. The heavy burgundy drapes are untied and drawn for privacy.
I also realize why I’m so squished.
Manx is curled up tight against my belly, his gray fur rising and falling in slow respiration. Against his paws, Sloan is fast asleep on the edge of the bed. Calum and Kevin spoon behind me, Calum’s arm reaching over Kevin’s hip to rest on mine. Down at the bottom, across the foot of the bed, both Dillan and Emmet are scrunched between my feet and the footboard.
Warm, soft fingers brush my cheek, and I tear my gaze away from my crazy brothers. Da is peeking in the curtains, his eyes glittering with relief. “They haven’t left yer side since last night. Everyone’s been out of their heads with worry.”
“Am I fixed?” I croak, my voice raw and graveled.
His smile is tight. “So far so good. Wallace has never dealt with this, so he can’t say, but he thinks he’s got a handle on the poisoning from the book. I’m sorry I didn’t listen to Sloan sooner. Ye suffered because I was stubborn and afraid. Maybe if he’d brought ye here earlier…”
“Not your fault. All we can do is our best, right?” I smile at the crazy cockerel comb of ebony hair sticking up off Sloan’s head in odd angles.
There have only been two times that I’ve ever seen him when he hasn’t looked GQ runway-ready. The first was the morning I flashed back from the dragon lair after my captivity, and the second is now.
Emmet lets out a breathy snore, and I check out the rest of my slumber party group.
“I am one lucky girl.”
“Without a doubt.”
I think Da is talking about me surviving. I’m talking about my family, but I leave it at that.
The deep grumble of my bear having a dream has me propping myself up on my elbow. “Bruin’s okay? The poison didn’t harm him while he was inside me?”
Da shakes his head. “It didn’t. Still, Wallace asked that he stay in his physical form until yer well enough to take him in. The two had words about it, but yer bear won’t jeopardize yer recovery, so he gave in. He’ll be anxious to merge with ye though. He worried somethin’ fierce. We all did.”
I draw a deep, steadying breath and soak it all in. “I feel good now, though. Thanks for standing vigil.”
He looks at the ensemble cast hunkered down around me and chuckles. “It’s a good thing yer man has a bed the size of a football field.”
“A very good thing.” I wriggle to the top of the bed to get out from beneath the warmth of the sheets. I free my feet and look down at the wide strip of gauze wrapping my thigh.
“I’m afraid to see what’s underneath.”
“Then leave it a day or two before ye look. Yer body’s been through an ordeal. It deserves a chance to heal before ye scrutinize it.”
I run my fingers over the bandage and frown. At least if there’s a scar, it’s high enough on my leg nobody will see it unless I invite them to.
Da’s right. That’s something to worry about another day.
Right now, I’m thankful to be alive and well.
“Can you help me up?”
I raise my hand, ready for my dad to extricate me from the love-in. Manx growls as I ruffle his fur and Sloan’s eyes pop wide.
“It’s okay, surly,” I whisper. “Go back to sleep. I’m awake and need to stretch my legs.”
Sloan sits up, and our gazes lock. He looks alarmed at first but then settles once he realizes what’s going on. “Hey. Nice to see yer not dead.”
“It’s nice not to be dead. Big points in the win column for you on that one.”
Sloan sits up and rubs his hands over his face. “Yeah, well, I had a bit of spare time and thought, not much else to do, might as well save Fiona…again.”
I giggle. “I know, right? I’m a bad habit you can’t seem to break. I’m the least damsel of any girl I know, but you still keep having to swoop in to save me.”
“Should I give the two of ye a minute?” Da asks.
I shake my head. “No, I do want to stretch my legs. I desperately need a trip to the loo.”
Da backs out of the curtain, and Sloan rolls off the bed. He helps me over Manx, and I leave the sleeping mass of thick gray fur with my brothers.
Sloan sets me on my feet and holds me by the elbows for a sec to make sure I’m steady. When I’m good, I straighten and brush my hands down the collared jersey he gave me to wear last time when I flashed here to save Liam.
“Do I have clothes?”
“Yer wee bag is in there already, and I put out fresh towels and some toiletries same as the last time.”
I hug Sloan and take a beat to catch my breath. “Thanks for the save and for everything you do between the saves. You’re amazeballs.”
“That yer here to say so is all the thanks I need.”
I hug Da and kiss his cheek. “I love you, oul man. Thank you for being here.”
“There’s nowhere else I’d be, luv. Nothin’ matters to me more than my kids, ye know that. The rest of the world can go to pot as far as I’m concerned, as long as my kids are good.”
“I’m good.” I say the words as a reflex but realize as I pull back, they’re true. “Or at least I will be once I shower.”
Sloan catches my wrist and stops me from getting away. When he pulls my hand to his mouth and kisses it, I get a weird foreboding feeling.
“Am I missing something?”
He offers me a forced smile and my heart rate doubles. “There’s one wee thing we need to tell ye before ye head in there.”
“What?”
“It’s nothing terrible.” He squeezes my hand tighter as I try to pull away. “Or, at least, we don’t think it’s terrible. Yer up and strong and ye said yerself ye feel good.”
“Okaaay.” My chest tightens and a chill snakes down my spine.
“Do you remember when we studied fae traits, and we talked about how some are determined at birth because of genetics, some emerge at puberty or in stressful situations, and some come from being exposed to high levels of power?”
“I remember.” I blink against the sting of my eyes, tears building at the promise of what’s coming next. “Sloan, you’re scaring me. Tell me what happened.”
“We don’t know what it means, but you were exposed to an incredibly high level of magic and more stressful situations than one should have to endure.”
“And I got a faery trait?”
I look at my father and see the worry in his gaze. “Show her, son. It’ll be better than her worryin
g.”
Sloan takes my hand and leads me into his ensuite. “Now don’t freak out. It’s fine. Everything will be fine.”
“Screw that. Saying ‘don’t freak out’ makes me wanna lose my shit.” My breath rushes in and out of my lungs as I swallow against the scream pushing at the base of my throat. “What is it? For fuck’s sake, just tell me.”
He grips my wrists to stop the trembling and pulls me inside the washroom to face the mirror. “As far as we can tell, everything is all right. You’re beautiful. Stunning. It’s just that now—yer eyes are…different.”
Different?
I stare at the ice-blue eyes, wild black lids and sockets, and figure it has to be a makeup prank. My irises are tiny black dots, and there’s a black ring around the creepy, washed-out blue. It makes them almost look like they’re glowing.
No. They are glowing.
“I look like Marilyn Manson.”
“That’s one opinion. It reminded yer brothers of a Husky dog one of yer neighbors had when ye were kids.”
“Chimo,” I say, my voice thready. “I don’t want Chimo eyes. What does that mean? Are they going to stay like this? I don’t understand.”
“I’m afraid no one has those answers yet,” Da says.
“But it’s just the eyes, right? I’m not possessed or anything? You mentioned faery traits, but I didn’t sprout wings, and I don’t have gills or anything. So, I’m good right?”
“We must wait and see what the future has in store for ye.”
I stare at myself in the mirror; only it’s not me. It looks like me, but it’s not. “How much more could the future have in store for me, Da? Gawd, when will enough finally be enough?”
“I don’t know, mo chroi. I simply don’t know.”
By the time I have a long, ugly cry in the shower, the mirror in Sloan’s bathroom steams up enough that I don’t have to look at myself. I shut the water off and commit to facing the world. As much as I would like to, I can’t spend the rest of my life hiding in a castle ensuite.
A Witch’s Revenge (Chronicles of an Urban Druid Book 4) Page 5
