Trial By Fire (Beyond The Veil Book 1)

by Cate Dean

  “That should keep you quiet.”

  She dragged him to the door, and he could feel his strength draining away with his blood.

  At least Reese would be out of this. It was not the plan he had in mind—but with him injured, Torlogh’s guard would be down. Bran would find a way around the iron buried in his side, no matter what it cost him.

  Twenty Nine

  I fell asleep after our early lunch, stretched out on Bran’s bed. I was still exhausted from what had happened at the school.

  The pillow smelled like Bran—warm musk and sea air. I drifted off with that scent surrounding me, and I wasn’t surprised when I dreamed of him.

  He stood in the alien clearing, the over bright trees at his back. “I love you, Reese,” he said, in that quiet, deep voice I had come to love. “I will love you with my last breath, and beyond.”

  My mind screamed when I saw the knife flying through the air, headed straight for him. The blade drove into his chest, the impact knocking him back against the nearest tree.

  “Bran!” I couldn’t move, couldn’t help him, could only watch him die. “Bran—”

  “Don’t try to find me, Reese.” He gripped the hilt, and I saw the skin around the blade was smoking, the edges of the wound curling away from the knife. Oh God—it was iron. “I need you to—be safe. Don’t come after me.”

  He sank to his knees, still gripping the knife. Blood coated his hand, soaked the front of his shirt, stained his lips. I tried to run forward, but I was frozen in place.

  “Bran—let me help you—”

  “No.” He lifted his head, his eyes black. “I will stop him. I will save them. You need to—” he coughed, blood sliding down his chin. “Let me go, Reese, before he finds you—”

  I watched in horror as he shoved the knife all the way in. He screamed, and toppled forward. Black-laced blood pooled under his still figure.

  “Bran!”

  “Reese—wake up, honey. Reese—please, wake up, now.”

  Mom’s voice yanked me out of the dream. I bolted up, grabbing her hand. “Bran is in trouble.”

  I expected her to argue, but she helped me off the bed. “Tell me.”

  I did, stumbling over the description of him using the blade to sacrifice himself, tears lodged in my throat. “We were supposed to meet at his office—”

  “We’ll find him, Reese.”

  I met her eyes. “You believe me?”

  She took my hand, squeezing it. “I saw your face, Reese. And I know what you Saw.”

  “Was it—real?”

  “It was a possible future. We can still prevent it from happening.”

  “Not we, Mom.”

  “I am not allowing you to do this on your own, Reese. I am your mother, and it is my job to protect you.”

  I knew that voice—and I knew better than to argue with it. “Okay. Let’s go.”

  ~ ~ ~

  I broke speed records getting to Bran’s office.

  Mom didn’t say a word. She just held on to the safety bar in the passenger door of Bran’s huge SUV, sucking in a sharp breath every time I took a corner too fast.

  I barreled into the small parking lot, not even trying to aim for a single space. I tried to turn off the car, and cursed under my breath, slamming the gear into park. I yanked the keys out of the ignition and practically fell out of the car, forgetting how high up I was.

  Mom me at the front of the car and we ran to his office. I skidded to a halt when I saw that the door was open.

  “Let me go in first,” Mom said.

  “I don’t—”

  “Stay here, Reese.”

  She moved to the door and carefully pushed it open. I didn’t have to see her face to know that whatever was just inside the door was not good.

  I joined her—and my knees threatened to buckle when I saw the blood soaking into the carpet.

  “Oh, God—” I stepped over the threshold, and Bran’s pain almost dropped me. Mom caught my arm, holding on to me as I lowered myself to the floor. When I spotted Bran’s crystal next to the blood, I closed my eyes, pain squeezing my heart. “Let go,” I whispered.

  “Reese—”

  “I don’t want you hurt by this, Mom. Please.”

  She let me go, and I swallowed, taking in a shaky breath before I laid my hand on the bloody carpet.

  Pain hit me first, harsh, burning pain. Once my mind cleared, I saw Bran. He knelt, in this spot, a female Fae standing behind him, holding a knife in her gloved hand. A Fae I had seen before—with Lachlan.

  As I watched, she drove the blade into his side, smiling as she did it. I could feel my hands clench into fists, the need to hurt her overpowering my horror.

  She pulled Bran to his feet and hauled him out of the office. He turned his head—and looked straight at me. I whispered the words as he mouthed them.

  “Don’t follow me.”

  The image faded, and I clutched the floor, my stomach churning. Mom’s hand spread over my back, warm, comforting, and so needed right now.

  “Reese. Open your eyes for me, honey.”

  I looked at her, and I knew from her expression that she knew what I had just seen.

  “I have to go after him,” I whispered. “He’s going to die there if I don’t.”

  “I know, honey.” Mom rubbed my back, and her touch gave me focus. I picked up Bran’s crystal, touching it to my lips before I tucked it in the pocket of my jeans. With Mom’s help, I stood, my legs still unsteady. “I want you to take every weapon you think might help.”

  I watched her walk over to the far wall, find the hidden button, and push it. “How did you—”

  “I told you, I know about Bran Malcolm.” She scanned the weapons, and started a pile.

  Once I got over my surprise, I joined her, looking for the knife I knew would be there. I had to guess, because Bran never described it to me, but the etched blade, and the detailed handle told me that the silver knife in the top right corner was the one I needed.

  When I touched it, and power coursed through me, I knew it.

  Mom looked at the blade, then at me. “You know what that is.”

  “I do.”

  She nodded, and started loading the weapons in a small duffel bag. “What we do next?”

  I swallowed, staring at the blade in my hand.

  “I go home.”

  ~ ~ ~

  It took less arguing than I thought to leave Mom behind. Seeing the office, and touching weapons she must have used when she was a Seer, probably brought back more memories than she was ready to deal with.

  I dropped Mom off at my store, parked Bran’s SUV in the second space behind my store. I had to move a couple of boxes first, but the delay gave me time to think. After I stashed the boxes in the back room and pulled his SUV into the space, I shut the car down, grabbed the duffel, got out, and started walking.

  I knew what was waiting for me at my studio. Torlogh had already opened a portal in my living room—and it would be easy to find again, easy for him to do it again.

  The Victorian appeared as I walked around the corner. I had loved it at first sight, and even though the studio was smaller than I would have liked, I loved living there even more than I had expected. Now I wanted to run in the other direction, and never walk through that door again.

  Instead, I climbed the steps to the porch, opened the mahogany door, and climbed the stairs to my apartment. I could feel the portal before I even reached my front door.

  I unlocked the door and opened it. Like I expected, the portal waited in the middle of my living room—a circle of absolute darkness surrounded by the blue-white light that I recognized now as Fae power.

  Walking into that darkness terrified me more than what waited for me on the other side.

  “Suck it up, Reese,” I whispered. “They need you.”

  I tightened my grip on the duffel before I walked forward and into the portal.

  Thirty

  Bran couldn’t see beyond the pain.
>
  It burned through him, threatened to consume him. When Torlogh shackled him to the post, the iron that dug into his wrists added fuel to the fire already burning inside him.

  The crying finally pulled him out. He pried his eyes open, and saw the two kids. They knelt in the middle of a glowing circle, hugging each other. The boy had his eyes closed tight, his face pressed against his sister’s shoulder. But she looked at Torlogh, anger and fear in her wide blue eyes. Bran admired her courage—and it helped him break free of the pain.

  He took a careful breath, aware of the blade still in his side. The cool breeze that ruffled the trees behind him brushed over his bare skin. He looked down, saw the bloody pile of clothing near his feet. One of his captors had cut his jacket and shirt off him while he was unconscious. The silver blade they used sat on top of the clothing—and gave him an idea.

  Neasa, the Fae who had brought him here, stood behind Torlogh, fear and need on her stunning, scarred face. Bran understood now why she would bow to a lesser Fae like the Fear Doirche. He must have promised her that he would fix her face.

  She glanced over at Bran, hatred flashing in her blue eyes. “When will it be time to sacrifice him, master? You promised I would be the one to kill—”

  “Silence.”

  She cowered, backing away from the talons aimed at her face. “Forgive me, master.”

  Torlogh smiled—and even through the fire burning him, Bran could feel the cold, familiar power of it. The Fear Doirche had already been feeding off Bran’s energy.

  The iron in his side would cripple his demon, prevent it from fighting back, or even protecting itself from Torlogh. Bran knew what he had to do—how he could save the kids. He just needed Torlogh to let him go.

  As if Torlogh could read his thoughts, he strode over to Bran, towering over him.

  “Your demon grows weak.”

  “If you—remove the iron, you can take your fill, Torlogh.”

  He snarled. “And I would have the power of Menoth’s son to contend with.”

  “Not—now. Iron blade has—weakened me.”

  He leaned forward, and sniffed. “Yes, I believe it has. Release him, Neasa.”

  “Master—you told me I would be allowed to kill him.”

  “And you will, my pet. Once I am done with him.”

  She stalked over to Bran, not gentle as she unshackled him. When he was free, she let him go. He dropped to his knees, his hand reaching for the knife in his side.

  Not yet.

  He lifted his head, and met the wide, terrified eyes of the kids. It took more strength than he could spare, but he winked at them.

  “Everything will be all right. Stay in the circle.”

  The girl nodded, tightening her grip on her brother.

  Torlogh paraded around the clearing, triumph in every move. “I told my Queen she could never contain me! She will be the first I punish when I am free.”

  “Yes, Master. I will enjoy watching you, Master.” Neasa bowed, drawing Torlogh’s attention.

  Bran took advantage, and clenched his jaw as he closed his hand over the knife hilt. He yanked the blade free—and almost passed out from the release of pain. The knife slid out of his bloody fingers.

  He didn’t have much time. Torlogh would sense the renewed strength of his demon soon. He reached for the silver knife and closed his hand over the etched hilt.

  Forgive me, Reese.

  Gripping the knife in both hands, he aimed it at his bare chest and drove it home.

  Thirty One

  The first thing I saw when I stumbled into the clearing was Bran, ready to sacrifice himself—just like he had in my dream.

  “No!”

  My scream jerked his hands, just enough that the knife buried itself in his shoulder instead of his heart. He still let out a scream that drove through me, and toppled to the ground. I was halfway across the clearing when I remembered Torlogh.

  The Dark Man came at me—so fast I barely had time to think. I dove out of his path, and landed in the middle of a gold circle. Two scared kids stared at me for a second, then launched themselves at me.

  I hugged them, and watched Torlogh flinch away from the edge of the circle. The Fae woman standing behind him must have made it. I was right about her; she had been with Lachlan the day he showed up at my store—which meant she was from the Dark Court. She had been wearing an elaborate headdress and veil, so I didn’t see the scars that marked her left cheek.

  “What could scar a Fae?”

  “Demon blood,” the boy whispered. Chris—I remembered Detective Phillips telling me their names. Chris and Cindy.

  “Not true,” Cindy said. “You’re always making things up.”

  “Is so—I heard her say it!”

  “Hush,” I whispered, tightening my grip on them.

  I kept watching Torlogh, forced to scoot around, with the two kids, as he paced the circle. Finally, he snarled and walked away from us, pointing at the Fae.

  “You will open the circle when I am ready for their sacrifice.”

  She bowed. “Of course, master. I promised this already, when you bid me create the circle, to keep you from tasting their blood too soon.”

  Both kids pressed against me, and I could feel them trembling. Part of that might have been me trembling.

  Torlogh stared at the Fae for endless seconds, before he snarled again and headed to the edge of the clearing.

  I let out my breath, and looked down at them. “I need you both to stay here. I have to go help my friend. You’ll be safe,” I whispered, when Cindy started shaking her head, tears filling her eyes. “I know you’re both scared. I’m right there with you.”

  “You’re scared?” Chris looked up at me, tears tracks running through the dirt on his face. I wanted to kill Torlogh for scaring two innocent kids, dragging them into the middle of a waking nightmare. “But you’re a grown-up.”

  “I’ll let you in on a secret. Grown-ups get scared, too.” I nodded at their surprised expressions. No matter what I had to do, I’d get them out of here, safe and alive. “Stay here. I’ll be back for you. I promise.”

  “Cross your heart?” Cindy whispered.

  “Cross my heart.” I reached over Chris’ head and traced an X over my heart. “Chris—can you lean over my lap? Pretend that you’re getting sick, or something.”

  He spotted the small duffel next to my leg. “Am I helping you with your plan?”

  “Yes, you are.”

  He gave me a shy smile—and doubled over, pretending to throw up. A worthy performance for a scared boy. Torlogh curled his lip and backed away. I quickly dug into the duffel, searching for the silver blade. I’d only have one chance at this, so I had to pick the weapon I knew could hurt him.

  My fingers tingled when I touched it, the power coiling over my skin. I pulled it out, pressed it against my thigh, and patted Chris’ back.

  “Thanks. You’re doing great.” I smiled at Cindy, and she let me go, moving forward to huddle next to Chris.

  I really didn’t want them to see what I planned next, but there wasn’t a whole lot of choice. I could feel the power grow in the clearing, and I knew sacrificing those kids was Torlogh’s grand finale.

  He wasn’t getting near them.

  I stood, took a shaky breath, and stepped out of the circle. Pain dug into my skin. I glanced over at Bran. He was still unconscious, blood spreading from the wound in his shoulder. I was running out of time. “Hey, Dark Man.”

  He whirled, revealing what he was working over. I stumbled backward, my free hand covering my mouth.

  A Fae was stretched out on a makeshift altar stone, naked, and bleeding from multiple knife wounds. I had interrupted Torlogh in the middle of a long, deep slice down her torso.

  I also found the missing Celtic crosses—they lined a narrow ledge behind the altar, the grey, weathered stone glowing.

  “Foolish half-blood.” He held up the long, bloody knife. “I was going to use you as the sacrificial Fae, but yo
u proved elusive, so I found a suitable substitute. Your demon is next. I will tie you to a tree, give you a front row seat while I flay his human skin off him.”

  I had to focus. Now that I’d seen the Fae, her pain—the pain I thought had belonged to Bran—clawed at me. The circle had obviously protected me from the worst of it.

  “Before you carry out your evil plan, I have a gift for you.”

  He tilted his head, obviously confused. I took advantage, whispered a silent prayer, and darted forward.

  I didn’t dare throw the knife, so I swung my arm up as I ran past him and slashed at his thigh.

  His scream threatened to burst my eardrums.

  “You dare—” His eye widened, and to my shock, his wounded leg gave under him.

  “Master!” The scarred Fae leapt forward, catching him as he crumpled to the bloody grass. “What is it?”

  “Knife.” He glared at me. “How did you—”

  “I found out from you. If you hadn’t showed off, and dragged me into your little playroom, I never would have known.” I may have sounded cocky, but I was shaking so badly I could barely stand.

  “Break the circle.” He roared at the Fae when she didn’t move. “Now! I need their blood now!”

  “God—” I stumbled backward, putting myself between her and the kids. Torlogh couldn’t get to them, but she had created the protective circle. “Don’t you touch them—” I swiped the knife at her and she danced back, so graceful I felt like an elephant in comparison.

  I braced myself, waiting for her to come at me again. She gave me a smile that chilled me straight to the bone and moved toward me.

  I saw Bran first, a silver knife in his right hand. He swayed, but he managed to stay upright as he stepped between us.

  “Going somewhere, Neasa?” God, he sounded horrible. “I thought you wanted a chance at me. Here it is.”

  She shrieked and lunged at him.

  I started toward him, but he moved, with more speed and grace than I expected. When he turned to me and I saw his eyes, I understood why—and it scared the hell out of me.