"Know what? That I could fly? Nope." She bounced on the balls of her toes as her voice rose. "Seemed to have missed out on that bit of info."
From his scowl, she could tell he didn't appreciate her sarcasm.
"Your mother was King Sylus Manahan's daughter. Royal princess and heir to his throne." This was all wrong. Her mother’s maiden name was Mann, not Manahan. None of this was making any sense.
"It is said,” he continued. “That she, Sidhlyn, fell in love with a common faerie, against her father's approval. When the king had him executed, he did not know she was carrying a child. That child was you, Princess."
Shaking her head, Jess’ mind couldn’t keep up with the whirl of information. This couldn’t be right. He couldn’t be right.
“No. You’re wrong. My last name is Mann. You’ve got the wrong person,” the hysteria in her voice had Fallon taking a step closer, except she held him away with a staying hand held up between them.
Halting, he saw the pain on her face and knew then that despite the fight in her, she heard the truth in his words. She worked it out in her head as he went on.
"Fearing for her unborn child's safety, she fled the court and the rest of the faerie world. Changing her name. And later, met your father who raised you as his own."
Wanting so much to argue, she knew it would be a waste of breath. She didn't look a thing like her father and had even wondered if she was adopted when she was younger. Her parents had shot down such a "ridiculous" idea and reassured her that they were both her biological parents. Looking back now, she realized they had only done so to protect her. Her younger sister, Alyss, had brown hair, like their father. Her father, not mine, Jess corrected.
"Wait. My sister," she said, grabbing his arm again, blood draining from her face.
"She is being watched for her safety. No harm will come to her. If you wish," he watched her expression, "we can have her brought here."
"No. At least not yet." Taking in a deep breath, she puffed out her cheeks as she let it out. "I want her life to remain as normal as possible, and for as long as possible."
He nodded, remaining silent to allow her time to process.
When a commotion broke that silence from outside in the cavern, they both rushed back outside.
***
Staring in shock, knowing she must be dreaming, Alyss simply stood there, like a nitwit, in front of her intruder.
"I won’t hurt you. I swear it. Just put that away." The man gestured blindly to the can of pepper spray in her hand.
"What do you want then? Why are you in my apartment?!"
Stepping back, she put some distance between them, the can held tightly in her hand, finger on the trigger. Heart pounding so hard blood rushed in her ears. She knew how to take care of herself. She didn't practice taekwondo for shits and giggles. In her line of work, she needed to be quick on her feet and able to get out of sticky situations when necessary. Her lithe body at five feet and six inches gave her the advantage she needed usually. However, when he snuck up on her in her own home, that had thrown Alyss for a big loop.
"First," he gasped, looking up and blinking blood shot, weeping eyes. "Can I get some water or a wet towel? Please." He squeezed his eyes tight to ease the stinging. Served him right, she thought.
"Fine. But, remember," she switched the can to her other, less sweaty, hand. "I'm still packing." Despite his agonized expression, she could see a smile tug at the corner of his full lips.
Stepping into the kitchen, keeping a wary eye on him in the living room area, she wet a hand towel and tossed it to him. She watched him swipe and blot at his burning eyes, getting a little pleasure from his agony.
"Ok, you have two minutes before I'm calling the police." She held her cell up to prove she meant business.
"No, you won’t." He slowly stood up, looking at her with only one eyes, the other looked swollen shut. "You wouldn’t want to draw unwanted attention since you've just broken into and stolen from the Museum of Art." He nodded to the small black statue on the counter.
"I don't know what you're talking about." But she did. Her words were choked in her throat where her heart had jumped to at his words.
"Right," he said, managing a small grin. "But that's okay." He held his hands up, a pose of surrender. "I'm a friend. I won’t be ratting you out. But I can't let you go, for your own safety."
Right then, she just wanted to smack the smug look off his face.
"In case you've forgotten, but I do a good job at defending myself, thank you." She crossed her arms over her breasts, the can held for him to see.
"You only caught me off guard." He looked somber now. "Your pepper spray won’t deter those like me that are after your little prize you've acquired." Again, he nodded to the figurine that sat close to the dish soap at the sink.
"What's your fixation about my kitchen?" Refusing to bite the bait and admit to anything.
"Alright, sweetheart, you can play dumb, but just so you know, I always get what I want. And I want that obsidian Ares you've got over there." That infuriating smugness needed to be slapped clean off his face.
Perhaps another round of the pepper? She considered.
"Not for personal reasons, " He went on, ruining her fantasy. "But for better ones than yours, I can guarantee." The play was gone, replaced by seriousness now.
Walking the two feet to the end table by the couch, she flipped on the small lamp, a soft light washing the room. She looked over her shoulder to the tiny statue. It stared back at her with a sort of haughtiness that made her want to kick something. Of course, that would only show weakness. Tread carefully, she thought. See what he wants.
"Alright then, what do you want with it?" She moved her body to stand between him and his view of the Ares.
"Well," he met her gaze. "It's sort of classified in a non-government manner."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"It means, darling, that I can't tell you. Literally." He grinned, knowing that would just piss her off even more, teasing the bull with the proverbial red flag.
"I'm sworn by magic not to expose my reasons for requiring the Daeghtus." He said with a shrug, not at all apologetic.
"Magic? You mean like Wicca or Voodoo?" When he took a step forward, he allowed the lamp's glow to illuminate the slight frown marring his beautiful features. Strong dark eyebrows were drawn down to hover over striking blue eyes. Despite the redness, she could see that he was naturally tanned with dark brown, maybe black, hair that brush lean shoulders. Not scary big like a body builders, but enough to prove to her that he could handle anything thrown at him. Except for maybe pepper spray.
Unknowingly, a smile quirked her lightly plumped pink lips at the thought and sight of him.
"No," he said, his harsh voice quickly removed said smile, replaced by a pout. She would never admit to it though.
"The real kind. The unexplained-by-science kind." An uncontrollable blush pinked her cheeks from his sarcasm. With her high cheekbones and small pointed chin, it only seemed to add to her beauty.
"Until you tell me, I'll just have to assume that my reasons are more important." She'd be damned if he was taking the Obsidian Ares from her. He'd have to pry it from her cold dead hands first.
It was right then that large, strong arms wrapped around her from behind. Locked in the unrelenting grip, Mr. Pepper Spray rushed forward and knocked the can from her grasp. Pissed, she threw back her head, catching her assailant off guard and knocked him in the chin. Not exactly what she was aiming for, but it still made him stumble backwards and loosen his hold.
Dropping to a low crouch, she swung around, her extended left leg hitting just above his ankles and knocked him on his ass. She hoped the asshole sat on a donut for a few weeks while that one healed.
Seeing Mr. Pepper Spray come at her from the side, she executed a quick spring back kick, catching his jaw, followed by a leap up and forward, led by a right cross to his temple.
Though caught off
guard, he still managed a smile when he righted himself.
Once again, that infuriating smile needed to be wiped off his face. She only managed to take one step forward before something hit her over the head, forcing her to her knees and then down to the cool laminate flooring on her side. Blinking darkness in and out of her vision, she saw Mr. Pepper Spray frown as he leapt toward her. The feeling of his warm hands on her temple followed her into oblivion.
Chapter Three
"Did you have to hit her so hard?"
Words woke her but didn't remove the darkness. Oh, wait, it was just dark. She was in a dark car. And, judging from the gentle rocking, a moving car. Someone jostled her as they moved her head to rest on something firm but curved perfectly to her head. It smelled amazing too.
"She's got blood on my upholstery, Cor." Another man's voice complained from behind her.
Crap. Totally outnumbered and in a moving vehicle. Not good.
Alyss remained limp and tried to keep her breathing as even and slowed as possible.
"If Dom hadn't hit her so hard, she wouldn't be bleeding at all." The words seemed to be ground from a clenched jaw.
That made three guys. This kept getting better and better, she thought.
"Where's the statue anyway. At least we got the damned thing for our trouble?" Someone asked.
"Our? What ‘our?’ I’m the one got fucking pepper sprayed." Deducing, the one they called Cor, complained, his body rumbling with his irritated words.
The following silence must have lasted another ten, maybe fifteen minutes before the vehicle came to a stop and the driver cut the engine. "Alright, everyone out. Dom, take the artifact to Brianna." A passenger door opened and someone exited, she assumed Dom, to follow his orders.
“I’ll take our guest to her new room and get her settled." She felt the man under her shift.
"Would you like to walk or shall I carry you?" His breath on her neck made her shiver a little.
She'd been in pickles before, but nothing like this. Accepting that the police might catch her red handed, no matter how hard she worked not to, she never expected to be kidnapped by other thieves.
Opening her eyes slowly she looked up at him. A better view with the dome light on, she saw his hair was black, and straight and pulled back from his face by a tie at the back of his neck. His features were all angles, with a slightly pointed chin that had a slight dimple, high, sharp cheek bones. Those dark eyebrows rose in question, waiting for her response, as faint laugh lines creased at the corners of his eyes and mouth. He laughed a lot, that was a good sign, right? A person who laughed often couldn't be that evil, could they? Sitting up, Alyss eyed him suspiciously. "What do you guys want with me?"
"Though it may not seem like it now, but we actually just want to help you." He opened his door and hopped out of the SUV. Turning, he held an extended hand to assist her.
Taking his hand, she allowed him to lead her down the lifted black beast. Feet firmly on solid ground, his hand still held hers, thumb brushing over the back for a second or two before letting it go.
They were on a private gravel drive, a thick line of trees blocking any view of a real road. As he led her around the car, she saw what could only be described as a castle. Straight from a medieval fairy tale, it had two towers on either side, jutting towards the sky.
Wait...
"Where are we?" She asked his back, deliberately ignoring his butt.
"Connecticut." Was all he said.
"Great." She mumbled. Escaping would be even harder out of state, not knowing where the heck she was.
"What is this place," Alyss asked, following up the wide stone steps to a pair of oak doors.
Opening the doors grandly, he stepped aside, gesturing for her to go ahead of him.
She entered what looked like a greenhouse of sorts. Having expected gold filigree, chandeliers, with medallion fixtures, polished marble and potpourri, Alyss was a little shocked to find the large foyer filled with twisting vines of ivy and red roses covering the walls. Barely visible sconces shined a dim light over it all.
The center of the large space was a small pool complete with a fountain of fish frozen in concrete mid leap and spitting water from their mouths.
"Home," Cormac finally said.
"Home?" Frowning he took her gently, but firmly, by the upper arm and led her through the hall of ivy and roses up a grand staircase.
"To who?" She continued to pry, keeping pace with him.
"To the horde." At the first-floor landing, he stopped to turn to her. "And the rest of the dark fae."
He went on to ascend to the next level of stairs while Alyss processed his words.
Horde? Dark fae? What the hell was he talking about?
Wait, fae....
"Fae. You mean, like, magic?" Her breathes puffed out as she was forced to match his pace.
He only nodded, rounding to another story in the house.
Christ, how many stories was this place?
"So, that whole not being able to tell me about why you needed the statue, that was true?"
He seemed to ignore her, except when he stopped at the next level, the third, he turned to look at her, all seriousness. "Very much true."
That was all he said before turning to walk down the hall to the right. Doors, some open, others closed lined both sides. Those opened appeared to house simple bedroom furniture, a few even had personal items hanging from the walls, placed on the dresser or bed. Stopping at an open room halfway down, he waved his hand inside.
"This will be your room during your stay with us."
Alyss only peeked in, not trusting that he wouldn’t just slam and lock the door on her if she went inside. Same as the other rooms they'd passed. Standard twin bed, soft looking wool blanket on top, a single pillow encased in white cotton sheets. A small end table with a tiny drawer by the bedside had a very utilitarian lamp on top. A short dresser for clothes made complete by a tiny mirror hanging on the wall behind it completed the cheap hotel essence of the room.
"And how long will that be, my stay?" She turned to eye him warily.
"For as long as what’s necessary." He held a pausing hand up when she looked ready to claw his eyes out.
"We should know soon enough. A guard will be placed at your door, in case you wanted to test your lock picking skills." He pressed his lips together, daring her to deny that she had said skills. "Make yourself comfortable," he said, turning her by the shoulders and walking her backwards into the room a couple steps before backing out and shutting the door behind him.
Sitting down on the bed, she tested the firmness. Not terrible. She should at least be somewhere comfortable while she waited impatiently. There was no way she would be sleeping though.
Chapter Four
The stingy abandoned parking garage in the basement of an old, condemned hotel in the shadiest part of New York proper looked ready to crumble around the men who stood outside of the high end black Escalade. Legs spread apart, they gave the appearance of looking relaxed to anyone looking from far away, but when taking a closer look, you could see they each held a black hand gun in one hand, fingers near the trigger, their other hand grasping the wrist in a standard guardsman position. Aside from the identical black suits they wore, they gave an air of military training. Asian, with dark observing eyes and black hair cropped close, they waited.
As the other vehicle pulled into the concrete structure, they seemed to roll their shoulders and adjust their fingers to rest on the gun’s triggers now. When a short rap sounded on the passenger’s window, one of them opened the door, chauffeur like. Another man, the same dark hair, but styled in a classic business fashion, stepped out and adjusted the cuffs and tails of his expensive charcoal silk suit and checked his Rolex watch.
On time, as usual.
Chang wouldn’t admit it, but he appreciated the man’s punctuality.
The black town car rolled up and parked about a hundred feet from where Chang stood. A large muscular m
an stepped out of the front passenger’s seat and walked to open the rear door. The man who exited the car was tall and lean and impressive. Chang would never admit it out loud, and hated it, but the man made him nervous. It wasn’t just about the way he looked, aside from his height he was a nondescript individual just by looking at him. But each time Chang had to do business with him in person, it made Chang’s skin crawl. Something about the man made his whole body feel out of sync. His body would break out in a light sweat that would wet his suit and have him aching to tear at the buttons at his collar and tug at his expensive tie. Add the usual headache that had him taking two ibuprofens before each visit and he was convinced he was having a heart attack each time the damn man showed his face at one of these meetings. Normally, Chang didn’t agree to meet face to face. He preferred to use a third man, or do business via phone. He was a busy man, after all.
Bain was busier.
At first, Chang played the game like he always did, answering a series of messages left for him from some distributors and other contacts he had spread throughout the city. Until Bain grew bored and irritated and sent his…muscle. Chang smirked at the thought of the creature that visited him that night a month ago, red eyes and wings on a giant that looked like it could have once been a man, before he went berserk. He still had nightmares about the demon. Which, come to think of it, was the first time that he’d experienced the feeling of cardiac distress. As the thought hit him, he determined that after this was all over with, he was taking a damned vacation.
After the other man adjusted, Bain, re-buttoned his suit jacket, he spread his hands out, palms out, as he spoke, “Chang,” he said. “You disappoint me.”
The sweat on Chang’s brow worsened. How the asshole knew he didn’t have the package, was beyond him. But it didn’t surprise him. “Our man had it in their possession,” he said, quick to give the good news first. “It was a successful recovery.”
Bain rested his hands in front of him, the fingers of one wrapped around the wrist of the other, a relaxed look, almost bored. Chang knew that bored meant disappointed.
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