The mirror in his pocket quivered. Robin stepped back from his child and pulled it from his pocket. Oberon’s face immediately appeared.
“I think you need to get down to Kael’s apartment.”
“Michaela?” Robin was ready to mist away, mirror or no mirror, if his bondmate were threatened.
Oberon’s gaze darted to the side. “We have a visitor.”
Robin exchanged a quick glance with Raven, and, of one accord, the two men disappeared, both intent on protecting the woman they loved.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Really. It’s okay. I know this guy.” Michaela tried to move past the immovable brick wall High King Oberon was turning out to be.
“You’re acquainted with a redcap?”
A what? “He’s Snod.” She wiggled her fingers in hello around Oberon’s back. “Hi, Snod.”
Snod bowed to her, his massive shoulders filling the doorway. “My lady.”
“How did you find me?” Did she have her address stamped on her aura or something? Sort of a psychic Eat at Joe’s?
“The oath bound me to you. My life for yours.” Oberon started at Snod’s words. Michaela hadn’t thought anything could surprise the stoic king. “Loyalty and protection I give to thee. I am your man, and you my liege. By this oath I am bound to thee, by the law of three times three.”
“I…see.” Oberon stepped aside and waved elegantly. “Then by all means, enter.”
Kael gulped. “I’m sorry I called you, sire, but I couldn’t get hold of Robin and I didn’t know what else to do.”
“You did exactly right, young Kael.” Oberon gave Kael a small, reassuring smile. “And when we get back to the Court I will be glad to have you as one of my Blades. You kept your head and dealt with a situation that could have proven volatile and, ultimately, deadly, with poise.”
“Not all battles are won with fists.” Robin materialized right next to Michaela, Raven just in front of them, blocking Snod from her view once more.
“Really, people. He won’t hurt me.”
“How do you know for certain?” Oberon was eyeing her with all the interest one would show a new species of lizard.
She shrugged. “I sense it, just like I knew from the beginning Raven would never hurt me.”
“Your trust in strangers and your power to ‘sense’ if they mean you harm is long due for a discussion, my dear.” Robin pulled her into his arms and cocked a brow. “Miss me?”
“You weren’t even gone long enough for me to pee.”
Raven choked on a laugh.
“You are bonded.” Michaela turned to find Snod smiling at them. It was horrifying, yet cute at the same time. “This is good. Now I don’t have to try and hurt the Hob. He will help protect my lady.”
“Yes, I will.” Robin addressed Snod firmly. He studied Snod through slightly narrowed eyes, a flash of green running through the merry blue until they glowed. “McNeil may be after your lady.”
Snod straightened to his full height. “I will make sure he does not harm her.”
“I know you will.” Robin turned to Oberon. “He’s hers, and therefore mine.”
Oberon shook his head. “You have the strangest family, my Hob.”
Robin grinned. There was a joy in him that hadn’t been there before. “As you should know, my king.”
“Speaking of which, introduce me to your son.”
The command was unmistakable. Robin released Michaela and bowed before his king. “My liege, allow me to introduce Lord Raven MacSweeney, soon to be late of the Black Court.”
Raven was pale, but he bowed to Oberon. “My king.”
Oberon blinked. “I’ve been expecting you.”
Raven winced. “Yes, about that…”
Oberon laughed lightly. “Your father vouches for you.” He glanced at Robin. “At least, I assume he does.”
“He does. His heart is clean. He is my son, by blood and soul.”
Michaela bit her lip. She had no fucking clue what was going on, but she’d be able to grill Robin like a cheeseburger later. For now, she’d sit back, watch and enjoy the show.
Raven inhaled sharply at his father’s words. “I— Do you smell that?” He scowled, turning in place and lifting his face. He inhaled deeply again. “Something smells wrong.”
Robin looked at his face and sniffed, reminded Michaela of a bloodhound. “I don’t smell anything unusual.”
Raven scowled. “No. There’s something wrong. I smell sea water.” He grabbed hold of Robin’s arm. “You have to believe me. Get the king and Michaela out of he—”
The last thing Michaela heard was a sound like a gunshot.
Robin shook shattered glass out of his hair. The impact of the blast had knocked him off his feet, but had done no real damage. He feared, however, that his bondmate had not fared so well. He couldn’t feel her in his heart any longer. “Michaela?”
Raven, his back to the damaged wall, groaned and rolled to his feet.
Robin took in the remnants of Kael’s apartment, barely acknowledging the damage the bomb had done. Kael’s apartment was…shattered. The furniture looked as if it had been shredded. The mirror lay broken beside Raven. The windows had blown out, the curtains now billowing both inside and outside the room. The walls were covered in black soot, tiny embers glowing here and there.
He didn’t care about any of it. He had to find his truebond, his love. “Michaela!”
“Here. She’s here.”
Robin turned. Oberon was kneeling on the floor, a broken and bleeding body in his arms. Robin shook his head, unable to believe the evidence of his eyes.
“No.”
Robin didn’t realize he’d spoken until he saw the sympathy, the pity, in his king’s eyes. “I was too late. I moved too slowly. I am sorry, my Hob.”
“No!” He knelt by Oberon, his hands touching, lingering in her dark, blood soaked hair. Her body was riddled with cuts, but the wound that had broken her, killed her, was the piece of bomb that had somehow landed in her throat.
Where was that odd sound coming from? That odd, rushing silence that…
That…
Oh. Oh gods. The void in his heart, the one she’d filled. That sound was the loss of his soul. How was he supposed to survive when his heart lay broken in the arms of his king?
“Robin.” He tore his gaze away from the sluggishly bleeding wound in her precious neck and looked into the pale eyes of his king. It was bad, he knew it was, that it wasn’t bleeding worse.
It shouldn’t be, but it was.
Her brown eyes were open, staring. He touched her silken hair, that rushing silence growing still within him.
He hadn’t told her he loved her yet.
“Robin, listen to me.” Something touched him, something cold, but Oberon hissed and flinched. Now he, too, was bleeding, and Robin didn’t know why. “I need you to stop.”
Listen. Yes. He should have. This was his fault, and he would pay for it for eternity.
Had he listened to his son, he would have had Michaela out of there before the bomb went off.
He would have…
Her empty eyes stared up at nothing, all the warmth, all the laughter, gone.
He would…
Her lips were parted, blood trickling down bruised cheeks.
Had she tried to call for him? Had she known that he’d failed her?
Robin threw his head back and screamed. Every ounce of what some would call humanity that had lived in him was gone, snuffed out with her life.
They would pay for taking his truebond. They would all pay.
Robin let loose the creature within him, his true self, the one he’d locked away when Oberon first found him, writhing and formless and full of rage. Only the glowing, hate-filled green eyes within showed that there was any thought behind the pure malice he had become.
“Hobgoblin!”
No. Not even that beloved voice could stop him. Robin would find the one who had taken love from him, taken laughter fr
om him, and inflict pain upon them for all of eternity.
“Damn it, Hobgoblin. Listen to me.”
The king’s power rolled over him, but the madness riding him would not allow it to take hold. Robin swirled toward the broken window, forgetting everything but the need to make the killer hurt.
“I’ll go with you.” Raven, his eyes the same flaming green as his own, stood by his side. The air swirled around him, growing in intensity as he watched, his sylph heritage coming to the fore in his grief and rage. Robin allowed the boy to come with him, knowing he could not stop him without grievous harm. He would not kill his child to get to his enemy. There was enough left of Robin’s sanity for that, at least.
Together, they moved to the open window and flew out it, invisible to all but fae eyes. Robin Goodfellow, aka the Hob, left behind the woman who had once stolen his soul.
He would grieve someday. He would eventually die without her. But before he did, he would find her murderer and shred him.
“It was McNeil. I know it. It had his brackish scent all over it.”
Robin’s voice was tinny. “Is that so?” McNeil would die slowly, screaming, breathing out his last as Robin watched.
“I want a piece of him, Father. I want to inflict my own pain.”
If he could have Robin would have nodded. Raven had loved her too, and this last gift he would grant his son. “Yes.”
Raven nodded and began flying toward the waterfront. “The water. He’ll be hiding there.”
“Near the ship.” Robin’s voice had become a hissing whisper, a remembrance of what it had once been. Already he could feel himself slipping into complete formlessness, but he had to hold on.
Once McNeil was dead, he would gather his love’s body, and together they would slip into the abyss.
“There.” A disturbance on the surface of the river, but Robin held back. “It’s bait.”
“I gathered. McNeil wouldn’t be so obvious.” Raven looked around and pointed toward the ship. “There. I’d bet anything he’s on board.”
“That’s not—”
“The SS United States, I know.” The luxury yacht docked so incongruously near the industrial section of the waterfront raised Robin’s eyebrows as well. “It’s getting ready to set sail.”
Indeed, Robin could hear the sound of the engines firing up. “Then by all means, let’s make it a ghost ship.”
Raven grinned, the lust for blood obviously riding him hard. Together they dove for the yacht, using their powers to keep the humans from seeing them. The yacht was pulling away from the dock, rapidly heading out into the middle of the Delaware River.
Good. Robin would follow it out past the mouth of the river and into the sea. There, he would shred McNeil’s heart and unravel his soul, as he’d done to Robin.
“Can you smell him?”
Robin nodded. He no longer had a face to lift to the wind, but the stench of the each uisge’s evil was strong, flowing behind the yacht like a tattered black banner.
“When?”
Robin saw the way Raven’s claws flexed. Claws had also ripped through the fronts of his boots. He looked like the Raven Lord in truth as he called his pets to him.
“At sea.”
Raven nodded, gliding silent and invisible in the midst of his black birds. Whatever Robin and Raven left behind on that boat, the birds would feast on, leaving nothing behind but a mystery for the humans to talk about.
They waited a good ten minutes once the yacht had left the mouth of the river before descending on it silently, ready to execute McNeil. Raven landed first, quickly killing the pilot with a slash of his claws across the man’s throat.
Robin waited. McNeil would make for the water once he realized he’d been boarded. When he did, Robin would be waiting for him.
Raven proceeded to move about the yacht like the wrath of god, destroying anyone who got in his way. He was swift and merciless, sparing none.
Robin was reluctantly impressed.
There. McNeil, at the back of the ship, moving toward the deck and freedom. Robin dove for him just as McNeil jumped, catching the each uisge inside the formless, death-dealing mist that made up his body.
McNeil screamed as the jagged edges of Robin’s grief dug into his flesh and Robin’s rage scored his skin. The gray smoke that made up his body turned red with McNeil’s blood. Robin slowly lowered himself to the deck, inflicting wounds every time he so much as twitched, and waited for Raven to join him. He could feel McNeil within him trying to break free, but Robin held fast.
“There you are.”
The silky-smooth tones Raven used to address the each uisge were so similar to Robin’s own that he nearly lost control. Had Michaela loved his voice as much as he’d loved hers?
McNeil shrieked as Robin swirled around him.
Raven whistled low. “Damn, Father. It’s like you placed him inside a giant, swirling cheese grater.” He tsk’d. “That’s gotta hurt, McNeil.”
“Let me go.” McNeil’s body twisted, transformed into his rarely seen true form: the torso of a human, the teeth of a lion, and the head and legs of a horse. His hands sported five lion’s claws instead of morphing into hooves. The sharp hooves at the end of his legs kicked out, meeting resistance from Robin. Robin held fast, refusing to allow the each uisge to free itself.
McNeil would finally face justice.
McNeil squirmed in Robin’s grasp, causing more slashes and cuts to appear on its dark skin. “Release me!”
“I will drag you into the abyss.” Robin’s voice had become a whispered hiss, barely audible over the sound of the sea.
Raven looked into Robin’s eyes and smiled. Robin nearly wept at the anguish he could see growing in his son’s gaze. He knew. Somehow, Raven understood that once McNeil was dead, Robin would begin to fade, to join his love in the beyond. And the knowledge was killing his child.
Raven nodded once and then turned his attention back to McNeil. He thrust his hand into Robin’s sharp mist and ripped one of McNeil’s fingers off his hand. He made it seem easy, like ripping a breadstick in half. “No.”
McNeil shrieked with rage, but neither man cared.
Michaela would be avenged.
“Hell and damnation.” Oberon sighed as he stared at the shattered window. “Robin. Damn it. If you’d only waited.” He slowly stood, holding the battered form of Robin’s mate in his arms.
The scent from her blood was…familiar. Intriguing.
Fae.
Yes. The nearly insane thought running through his head made him smile. It was possible. It could be done. It would save both Robin and Michaela, but would cost Oberon.
He could do this. For Robin, who’d always given him everything, Oberon could do this one thing and save them all.
Robin would have to find them on his own, though. Oberon could not do what needed to be done here. He’d take the girl back to the Gray Palace and there, he would save his best friend’s wife.
“My king?” Kael, looking bruised and full of grief, keened at the sight of Michaela’s limp body, but he stepped forward, his bow off-kilter. He had not remained undamaged. A gash over his forehead was bleeding profusely, staining the pale blond locks red. Bruises were visible on his jaw and his arms, along with numerous shallow cuts. One arm was held at an odd angle. Oberon was willing to bet it was broken. And from the way his pupils were unevenly dilated, he had a concussion on top of all of that. “Allow me to protect you until Robin returns or a true Blade arrives.”
Oberon smiled. The boy would do nicely. Even injured, he reacted in a way that would make Robin proud. “A true Blade is already here. We just need to make it official.”
Kael’s face went white. “Oh. Cool.” He then leaned over and proceeded to puke all over the scorched carpet.
Oberon sighed. He’d have to get the boy healing. He waited until the retching stopped. “Take hold of my arm.” Kael’s grip was shaky but firm.
“Snod will go too.”
Oberon had
completely forgotten the redcap. “I think not.” He turned to face the creature, only to be stunned.
The redcap was crying, silent tears running down its cheeks as it looked at the woman in Oberon’s arms. Snod wiped his cheeks with the back of his hand like a child. “I will go, and protect my lady.”
Snod was just as blood-soaked as the rest of them, just as damaged, but he stood straight and tall even as tears continued to roll down his cheeks. The sorrow in his beady little eyes had Oberon sighing in defeat. “Very well. Grab hold, then.”
Oberon silently teleported the four of them to the Gray Palace. “Harold!”
“Sire?”
Oberon strode for his personal chambers. There, hidden in the center of the palace, he would perform the rite that would bring Michaela back. “Kael is an apprentice Blade. He’s been injured. Send for the healer to see to him. Also, the redcap is Lady Goodfellow’s personal guard.” If possible, Snod stood even straighter. “See to it that his injuries are tended as well.” He turned to the redcap. “I’ll be taking your oath when your lady is well again.”
Snod bowed. “Yes, Sire.”
“Sire? Lady Goodfellow?” Harold’s voice was full of concern. The brownie had a soft spot for Robin and his antics. The knowledge that he’d truebonded had caused the brownie much joy.
He spared his butler a quick glance. “I will tend to her myself.”
“I can heal him.”
The quiet, melodic voice caught his attention like nothing else ever had. Oberon turned and found himself staring at…
Hell and damnation. It’s her.
She was a tall, thin, rather gangly woman with a face that was too long to be called pretty, too interesting to be called plain. Arresting was the word that came to mind. Her full, bow-shaped lips were curved downward in a worried frown. Her nose was slightly crooked, as if she’d broken it at some point and it hadn’t quite healed right.
Her eyes were absolutely huge even in her human Seeming, a turquoise so bright Oberon wondered if they were even brighter in her merform, for he had no doubt one of the sea folk stood before him. Intelligent and brilliant, they were her best feature.
The Hob (The Gray Court 4) Page 21
