I made no mention of his laughter, the MacHalo, or my absurd dance. Barrons and I are pros at ignoring anything and everything that passes between us that might smack of emotion of any kind, even so simple a feeling as embarrassment. Sometimes I can’t believe I was ever beneath that big, hard body, kissing him, getting glimpses into his life. The desert. The lonely boy. The lone man. Don’t think it hadn’t occurred to me that having sex with Barrons might just answer some of my questions about who and what he was. It had. And I’d promptly stuffed that idea into my padlocked box. For a gazillion reasons that need no explaining.
“It depends on the skill of the person employing Voice, and the strength of his victim’s convictions.”
Typical Barrons answer. “Elucidate,” I said dryly. I’ve been learning new words. I’ve been reading a lot lately.
As I moved deeper into the room, his gaze dropped to my feet, and worked its way back to my face. I was wearing faded jeans, boots, and a snug pink Juicy T-shirt I got on sale at TJ Maxx last summer that said I’m a Juicy girl.
“I bet you are,” he murmured. “Take off your shirt,” he said, but this time his voice resonated with a legion of voices. It rippled outward, past me, filling the room, stuffing every corner, cramming it full of voices that were all telling me to obey, pressuring every cell in my body to comply. I wanted my shirt off. Not the same way I wanted it off around V’lane, rooted in sexual compulsion, but merely because I. well, I didn’t know why. But I wanted it off right now, this very instant.
I began to lift the hem of my tee, when I thought, Hang on a minute, I’m not going to show Barrons my bra, and pulled my shirt back down.
I smiled, faintly at first then bigger, pleased with myself. I stuffed my hands in the back pockets of my jeans and gave him a cocky stare. “I think I’m going to be pretty good at this.”
“TAKE OFF YOUR SHIRT.”
The command hit me like a brick wall and destroyed my mind. I sucked in a violent, screeching breath and ripped my shirt from neckline to hem.
“Stop, Ms. Lane.”
Voice again, but not the brick wall: rather a command that lifted the brick wall from me, freeing me. I sank to the floor, clutching the halves of my torn T-shirt together, and dropped my head in my lap, resting my forehead against my knees. I breathed deeply for several seconds, then raised my head and looked at him. He could have coerced me like that anytime. Turned me into a mindless slave. Like the Lord Master, he could have forced me to do his bidding whenever he’d wanted. But he hadn’t. The next time I discovered something horrifying about him, would I say, yeah, but he never coerced me with Voice? Would that be the excuse I made for him then?
“What are you?” It burst out before I could stop myself. I knew it was wasted breath. “Why don’t you just tell me and get it over with?” I said irritably.
“One day you’ll stop asking me. I think I’ll like knowing you then.”
“Can we leave my clothes out of the next lesson?” I groused. “I only packed for a few weeks.”
“You wanted morally objectionable.”
“Right.” I wasn’t sure his demonstration had served its purpose. I wasn’t sure taking my shirt off in front of him was.
“I was illustrating degrees, Ms. Lane. I believe the Lord Master has achieved the latter level of proficiency.”
“Great. Well, in the future spare my tees. I only have three. I’ve been washing them out by hand and the other two are dirty.” BB&B didn’t have a washer or dryer, and so far I’d been refusing to tote my stuff to the Laundromat a few blocks down, although soon I was going to have to, because jeans didn’t wash well by hand.
“Order what you need, Ms. Lane. Charge it to the store account.”
“Really? I can order a washer and dryer?”
“You may as well hold on to the keys to the Viper, too. I’m certain there are things you need a car for.”
I eyed him suspiciously. Had I lost another few months in Faery, and this was Christmas?
He bared his teeth in one of those predatory smiles. “Don’t think it’s because I like you. A happy employee is a productive employee, and the less time you waste going out to the Laundromat or. doing whatever errands it is. someone like you does. is more time I can use you for my own purposes.”
That made sense. Still, while it was Christmas, I had a few more items on my wish list. “I want a backup generator, and a security system. And I think I should have a gun, too.”
“Stand up.”
I had no will. My legs obeyed.
“Go change.”
I returned wearing a peach tee with a coffee stain over the right breast.
“Stand on one leg and hop.”
“You suck,” I hissed, as I hopped.
“The key to resisting Voice,” Barrons instructed, “is finding that place inside you no one else can touch.”
“You mean the sidhe-seer place?” I said, hopping like a one-legged chicken.
“No, a different place. All people have it. Not just sidheseers. We’re born alone and we die alone. That place.”
“I don’t get it.”
“I know. That’s why you’re hopping.”
I hopped for hours. I wearied, but he didn’t. I think Barrons could have used Voice all night, and never worn down.
He might have kept me hopping until dawn, but at quarter till one in the morning my cell phone rang. I thought instantly of my parents, and it must have shown on my face, because he released me from my thrall.
I’d been hopping for so long that I actually took two hops toward my purse where I’d left it on the counter near the cash register, before I caught myself.
It was about to roll into my voice mail—a thing I’ve hated ever since I missed Alina’s call—so I thumbed it on inside my purse, tugged it out, and clamped it to my ear.
“Fourth and Langley,” Inspector Jayne barked.
I stiffened. I’d been expecting Dad, figuring he’d just forgotten to factor in the time difference. We alternated calling each other every other day, even if only for a few minutes, and I’d forgotten last night.
“It’s bad. Seven dead, and the shooter’s holed up in a pub, threatening to kill more hostages, and himself. Sound like the kind of crime you wanted me to tell you about?”
“Yes.” Himself, Jayne had said. The shooter was a man, which meant I’d missed whatever crime the woman who’d picked it up the night I’d been watching had committed, and the Book had already moved on. I wondered how many times it had changed hands since. I would search back issues of newspapers for clues. I needed all the information I could get, to try to understand the Dark Book, in hopes of anticipating its future moves.
The line went dead. He’d done what he’d promised and no more. I stared down at my cell phone, trying to figure out how to get rid of Barrons.
“Why was Jayne calling you at this hour?” he said softly. “Have you been inducted as an honorary member of the Garda since they last arrested you?”
I glanced over my shoulder with disbelief. He was standing at the opposite end of the room, and the volume on my phone was set to low. Maybe he’d picked up on the tones of the inspector’s voice from that distance, but there was no way he’d heard any of the details. “Funny,” I said.
“What aren’t you telling me, Ms. Lane?”
“He said he thinks he might have a lead on my sister’s case.” It was a weak lie, but the first that came to mind. “I have to go.” I reached behind the counter, grabbed my backpack, tossed in my MacHalo, strapped on my shoulder holster, transferred my spear from my boot to beneath my arm, then slid into a jacket and headed for the back door. I would get the Viper and drive to Fourth and Langley as fast as I could. If the shooter was still at the scene, the Sinsar Dubh would be, too. If the shooter was already dead by the time I got there, I’d drive up and down the streets and alleys in the immediate vicinity, ranging outward in a tight pattern, waiting for a tingle.
“The fuck he did. He said Fourth and L
angley. Seven dead. Why do you care?”
What kind of monster had ears like that? Couldn’t I have gotten a half-deaf one? Scowling, I continued toward the door.
“You will stop right there, and tell me where you’re going.”
My feet stopped, independent of my will. The bastard had used Voice. “Don’t do this to me,” I gritted, sweat breaking out on my forehead. I was fighting him with all I had, and weakening quickly. I wanted to tell him where I was going nearly as badly as I wanted to kill the Lord Master.
“Don’t make me,” he said in a normal voice. “I thought we were working together, Ms. Lane. I thought we were allied in a common cause. Did that phone call from the inspector have something to do with the Sinsar Dubh? You aren’t keeping something from me, are you?”
“No.”
“Final warning. If you don’t answer me, I’ll rip it from your throat. And while I’m at it, I’ll ask anything else I feel like asking, too.”
“That’s not fair! I can’t use Voice on you,” I cried. “You’re only teaching me to resist it.”
“You’ll never be able to use it on me. Not if I teach you. Teacher and student develop immunity to each other. There’s quite an incentive for you, eh, Ms. Lane? Now talk. Or I’ll take the information I want, and if you fight me, it’ll hurt.”
He was a shark who’d scented blood and he wasn’t going to stop circling until he’d devoured me. I had no doubt he would do as he was threatening, and if he got started forcing answers from me, I was afraid of what he might ask. He’d heard the address. With or without me, he was going there. It would be better if I went, too. I’d think of a plan along the way. “Get in the car. I’ll tell you while we’re driving.”
“My bike’s out front. If traffic’s bad, it’s faster. If you’ve been holding out on me, you’re in deep trouble, Ms. Lane.”
Of that, I had no doubt. But I wasn’t sure who was going to be more pissed at me before the night was through: Barrons because I hadn’t told him sooner, or V’lane because I’d broken my promise to him and told Barrons at all. The alien thing piercing my tongue felt intrusive and dangerous in my mouth.
Dublin was a dark, bizarre circus that I was walking through on a high wire, and if there was a safety net somewhere below me, I sure couldn’t see it.
Chapter 7
Like jacked-up pickup trucks in the Deep South, Harleys are an ode to testosterone: the bigger and louder the better. Down south, trucks and bikes roar Look at me! Hot damn, I’m big and noisy and wild and, yeehaw, wouldn’t you like a piece of me?
Barrons’ Harley didn’t roar. It didn’t even purr. A chrome and ebony predator, it glided soundlessly into the night, whispering, I’m big and silent and deadly, and you’d better hope I don’t get a piece of you.
I could feel fury in the set of his shoulders beneath my hands as we careened through narrow alleys, around corners, laying the bike so low I had to tuck up my feet and keep my legs crushed to the sides for fear of scraping off a few layers of skin, but as with everything else Barrons undertook, he was a master of precision. The bike did things for him I wasn’t sure a bike could do. Several times I almost wrapped my arms and legs around him and clambered onto his back, for fear of falling off.
His body bristled with anger. The fact that I knew something about the Book that I hadn’t told him was as deep a transgression as transgressions could go, as far as he was concerned. I’d learned the last time we’d had a brush with the Sinsar Dubh that it was his end-all/be-all, for whatever reason. Despite the unnerving dark energy rolling off him, eventually I hugged him with all my might just to stay on the bike. It was like embracing a low-level electrical current. Sometimes I wonder if Barrons has any real awareness of risk of injury. He doesn’t live like he does.
“It’s not like you don’t keep secrets from me!” I finally shouted against his ear.
“I don’t keep ones from you that involve the fucking Book,” he snarled over his shoulder. “That’s our deal, isn’t it? If nothing else, we’re honest with each other about the Book.”
“I don’t trust you!”
“And you think I trust you? You haven’t been out of fucking diapers long enough to be trusted, Ms. Lane! I’m not even sure you should be allowed to handle sharp objects!”
I punched him in the side. “That’s not true. Who ate Unseelie? Who survived no matter the cost? Who keeps getting out there facing all kinds of twisted monsters, and still manages to find something to smile about while she does it? That takes real strength. That’s more than you can do. You’re grumpy and broody and secretive all the time. You’re no joy to live with, I can tell you that!”
“I smile sometimes. I even laughed about your. hat.”
“MacHalo,” I corrected tightly. “It’s a brilliant invention, and it means I don’t need you or V’lane to keep me safe from Shades, and that, Jericho Barrons, is worth its weight in gold: not needing either of you for something!”
“Who came to teach you Voice tonight? Do you think you could find another teacher? Those who can use that power don’t share it. Whether you like it or not, you do need me, and you’ve needed me since the day you set foot in this country. Remember that, and stop pissing me off.”
“You need me too,” I growled.
“That’s why I’m teaching you. That’s why I gave you a safe place to live. That’s why I keep saving your life, and try to give you the things you want.”
“Oh, the th-things I w-want,” I stammered because I was so mad I tried to spit all the words out at once. “How about answers? Try giving me those!”
He laughed, and the sound bounced back off the brick walls of the narrow alley down which we sped, making it sound like men were laughing all around me, and it was creepy. “The day I give you answers will be the day you no longer need them.”
“The day I no longer need them,” I told him icily, “will be the day I’m dead.”
By the time we arrived at the crime scene, the shooter had blown his head off, what hostages had survived were being treated, and the grim duty of counting and collecting bodies had begun.
The street was closed around the pub from one end of the block to the next, crammed with police cars and ambulances, and crawling with Garda. We parked and dismounted a block from the scene.
“I’m assuming the Book was here. Do you feel it?”
I shook my head. “It’s already gone. That way,” I pointed west. An icy channel sluiced east through the night. I would lead him in the opposite direction, and eventually claim that I’d lost its “signal.” I felt sick to my stomach, and not because of all the bodies and blood. The Sinsar Dubh is the ultimate in nausea. I reached in my pocket and thumbed out a Tums. I had the beginnings of a brutal migraine, and hoped it wouldn’t spike.
“Later you’re going to tell me everything you know. Somehow you’ve figured out how it’s moving around the city, and it’s linked to the crimes, isn’t it?”
He was good. When I nodded gingerly, trying not to split my skull, he said, “And somehow you managed to coerce Jayne into feeding you information. How you accomplished that, frankly, confounds me.”
“Gee, maybe I’m not as inept as you think I am.” I popped another Tums in my mouth and made a mental note to start carrying aspirin, too.
After a pause, he said tightly, “Maybe you’re not,” which was very nearly an apology from Barrons.
“I fed him Unseelie.”
“Are you fucking nuts?” Barrons exploded.
“It worked.”
His eyes narrowed. “One might think you’re developing situational ethics.”
“You think I don’t know what those are. My father’s an attorney. I know what those are.”
A faint smile curved his lips. “Get back on the bike and tell me where to go.”
“I’ll tell you where to go,” I muttered sourly, and he laughed. As we sped down the street, away from the Dark Book, my headache began to ease. I was abruptly so aroused that I caught mysel
f on the dangerous verge of rubbing my aching nipples against Barrons’ back. I jerked away instantly and glanced over my shoulder. My heart sank. I reached for my spear. It was gone.
Barrons must have felt the tension in my body, because he glanced over his shoulder at me, and saw what I’d seen: the Fae Prince, sifting down the street behind us, one moment there, then gone, the next, a few dozen feet closer.
“It’s bad enough that you didn’t tell me about the Book, Ms. Lane, but tell me you didn’t tell him.”
“I had to. I needed him to do something for me, and it was all I had to offer up that I was willing to part with. But I didn’t tell him everything.” In fact, I’d deliberately led him astray, so how had he found me tonight? Dumb luck? He couldn’t possibly be checking out every crime in the city!
Anger reclaimed Barrons’ body, worse than before. He stopped so abruptly that I slammed into his back, fell off the bike, and went sprawling. By the time I stood up and dusted myself off, Barrons was off the bike; V’lane, too, had stopped, and was standing in the street about twenty-five feet away.
“Come here, Ms. Lane. Now.”
I didn’t move. I was pissed that he’d dumped me like that. It had made my head hurt even worse. Besides, a furious Barrons isn’t something you want to stand next to any more than you’d want to cozy up to a pissed-off cobra.
“Unless you want him to sift in and take you, get close to me. Now. Or do you want to go with him?”
I glanced at V’lane and moved to Barrons’ side. V’lane was so glacial with displeasure that a small blizzard was icing his end of the street, and I wasn’t dressed for the weather. Okay, so maybe V’lane scares me a little more than Barrons does. V’lane uses his sexuality against me and I’m susceptible to it. Barrons doesn’t. Even now, my hand was slipping to my fly, grazing the zipper, and I nearly whimpered. I sought that cool alien place in my pounding head. I’m strong, I told myself, a sidheseer. I will not give in.
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