Dark Enchantment

by Anya Bast

  Her father, bless him, was not of the opinion there were many men in the world worthy of his only daughter. She’d been groomed for greatness, and his expectations were high for everything she did in her life. The only man her father would find palatable was a high-ranking conservative politician, doctor, lawyer, or CEO.

  He’d expected her to become a doctor or a lawyer, herself, or at least something well-respected and high-paid. He’d never expected her to go into accounting, but the fact she’d done so well for herself in the field seemed to mollify him. The job suited her because logic and numbers had always come easily to her. Plus, going into accounting had been her one little rebellion against her overbearing and iron-handed father. Pretty sad, really, since that had been her only rebellion. She’d never really defied her father, not ever. Not even as a teenager, the time when even the most dutiful daughters were expected to do so.

  So bringing home a long-haired, motorcycle-riding man to her father would have shocked dear old dad right into a coma—never mind that Kieran was a dark-magick wielding fae.

  She blew out a breath. Why was she even thinking about this? It had to be because of that stupid dream. It had been just the thing to make her undersexed brain go bananas with unrealistic possibilities. She wished she could shut off the part of her brain that liked to replay all the especially good parts—which was pretty much the entire dream.

  Frowning, she set the book aside and flipped off the light. What were Kieran’s magickal abilities anyway? He’d said the bond and the dream invasion were just a part of them. Was his magick anything like his brother’s? She shuddered. He was Unseelie, after all.

  She snuggled down into the soft mattress and pulled the covers over her. Turning on her side, she looked out the window that gave such a pretty view of Piefferburg Square. Big raindrops had begun to splat softly on the glass with the dark sky as a background. It looked beautiful and lonely, not unlike Kieran. There was something really sad in him.

  She supposed that was not unexpected, considering his past and the evil that sat on his shoulders. The threat of damnation for falling in love. She couldn’t imagine living her life under that kind of weight. She’d never known love of the romantic variety, but she hoped one day she would. At least she had hope. Kieran didn’t . . . couldn’t even have that.

  Her eyelids drifted closed and soon she found herself floating in that place between sleep and wakefulness, her mind caught on Kieran.

  One minute she was drifting to sleep and the next she was wide awake, her adrenaline pumping almost too fast for her veins and heart to handle.

  Someone was in her room.

  ELEVEN

  A dark shape moved past the window, sized like a big male, but it wasn’t Kieran.

  Her fingers clutched the blankets and she resisted the silly urge to throw them over her head like a two-year-old. She couldn’t hide from what was coming. The person in her room knew she was there. Hell, she was probably the reason he’d broken in.

  The only thing within reach she could use as weapons were the lamp and the book on the nightstand. Of course, her biggest weapon was the tattooed Unseelie fae in the bedroom next door. She had a feeling he wouldn’t want this man menacing his best shot at the next piece of the bosca fadbh. In this case, the enemy of her enemy was her friend. Time to call Kieran on that promise to protect her.

  The man moved toward her bed and she knew she needed to do something fast. “Kieran!” she yelled, lunging for the lamp.

  The man bolted toward her, wrested the lamp from her fingers, and smashed it against her head. Pain exploded, making her cry out. The world went dark and she swam for a moment on a wave of threatening unconsciousness, fighting to stay topside. The man was so strong. She fought, but it was like trying to free herself from the grip of a grizzly.

  He pulled her off the bed, sheets, comforter, and all. Full consciousness returning on a flood of self-preservation, she howled and pushed against him, kicking and screaming, at least until the cold metal of a very sharp knife made contact with her throat. It nicked her. Hot blood welled and ran down her throat.

  She went very still.

  Her breath came out of her in little pants. She tried to ask the man what he wanted, but no words came out. The knife pressed deeper and she closed her eyes. So this is how her life would end. Not in her sleep as an old woman with many grandchildren and a husband who loved her. No. It would end tonight because she’d been caught up in a war she wanted no part of.

  Her knees went weak. God, she didn’t want to die yet. She had too many regrets. Too many things she still wanted to do.

  The door burst open and Kieran stood framed in the archway, backlit by the light behind him.

  The man holding her backed away instantly, the knife leaving her throat. She staggered forward, suddenly free. Her attacker held up his hands, the blade glinting silver and deadly looking in the light. But the man seemed scared. “Wait. Don’t—”

  “Too late.” Kieran’s voice came out a low growl that chilled her blood even more than the knife had. It contained an edge of . . . evil. Pure and absolute. Kieran raised his hand.

  The man screamed. This was no manly bellow. This was an inhuman high-pitched shriek of perfect terror that made her hair stand on end. The scream of a man who knew he was about to die. In the darkness, her attacker seemed to collapse. His screams became gurgly and wet-sounding, descending slowly as his body did. Oddly, it reminded her of the scene in the Wizard of Oz when the Wicked Witch meets her end.

  The sound of liquid being spilled across the floor met her ears.

  “Charlotte!” Kieran’s voice was sharp. “Come here.”

  She got off her knees, not even realizing she’d fallen to them, and hurried over to him. She made the mistake of looking back at her attacker. This time it was she who screamed.

  She saw now that the man had not collapsed. He’d . . . melted. The viscous substance that was her attacker was now leaking from underneath the clothes he’d worn and pooling on the floor. The knife lay in a little river of fleshy goo that snaked away from one of the man’s shoes.

  Sharp nausea rose. She pressed her hand to her mouth and closed her eyes for a moment, mastering it. Her gaze flew to Kieran and she pointed at the mess on the floor. “You did that. You melted him. A full grown man. And you just—” She sputtered, putting a hand to her throbbing head. It competed with the wound in her throat for highest pain honors. “How?”

  Dark circles marked the flesh under his eyes. She wondered what kind of toll expending that kind of magick took on him. “I’m an Unseelie Tuatha Dé Danann, Charlotte. My magick doesn’t bake cupcakes, it kills.”

  “It melts.”

  “My brother could tear flesh with his magick. My power is much the same.”

  Yes, as she’d wondered right before she’d fallen asleep. Now she was sorry she knew.

  He held out his hand. “Come on. You’re injured.”

  She eyed his hand with trepidation. “You act like you kill a man every night.”

  “I only kill to protect. Just because I have this ability doesn’t make me evil, Charlotte. A human man would have shot a gun to kill. I use magick. The result is the same.”

  Casting a glance at the man on the floor, she decided this was worse. Still, she took his hand allowed him to lead her from the room.

  Stunned, she sat on the couch. He’d flipped on the lamp nearest his bedroom, but now he turned on more, flooding the room with a bright light she was grateful for. In the kitchen she heard him on the phone with someone. Then he came back into the room with a first aid kit.

  “How’s your head?” He sat down next to her.

  “It hurts, but I’m okay. How can you be so calm?” Her question blurted out high-pitched on a swell of posttraumatic panic.

  “Tip your head to the side so I can see the wound. The man came during the night because he knew what I could do. He’d been hoping to catch you asleep, so you wouldn’t raise an alarm and bring me running.” />
  He dabbed disinfectant on the wound and she winced. “Why did he want to kill me?”

  “I’m not sure he did. He had plenty of time to slit your throat and he didn’t.”

  She touched her neck. “You think he wanted to kidnap me? Why?”

  He stopped treating her cut, looked at her, and raised his eyebrows. “You’re a smart woman. Can’t you guess?”

  She didn’t answer. Yes, of course, she could. She licked her lips and swallowed hard. “Because I possess the location of the last piece of the bosca fabdh? Who, besides you, would want me because of that?”

  “Lots of people.” He smoothed a bandage over the cut, then used a warm cloth to wipe away the drying blood on her skin. “It could be someone sent by the Phaendir. They would strip you of that memory with their hive magick and then kill you. Individually they have little potency, collectively they’re a powerhouse.”

  All her strength seemed to leave her in a rush. The Phaendir. They would kidnap and kill her, a human, to prevent the fae from getting the last piece? But she was on their side. Stupidly, she felt betrayed.

  She shook her head. “They don’t know why I’m really here.”

  “They might by now.”

  Panic shot through her at the possibility. “No, I don’t think so. Anyway, how would the Phaendir find a fae here in Piefferburg to do their bidding?”

  He shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the first time there was a turncoat fae in Piefferburg. We suspect Gideon Amberdoyal of having quite a few of us in his pocket, actually.”

  “Could it be anyone else?”

  He didn’t answer for a moment. “It could be the Summer Queen. She could have found out about your presence and sent someone to take you. If it was the Summer Queen, we have a problem. She has a much farther reach in here than the Phaendir. If it was her, we can expect more attacks.”

  “Great.”

  “Yes, especially since she knows how to defeat me.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “The Dark Lord of Melting Flesh can be defeated?”

  “The Dark Lord’s abilities are not limitless.” His lips quirked. “Now look at me.”

  Her gaze found his and held. His eyes were warm, mesmerizing. He held up a finger and she had trouble tearing her gaze away from his eyes to track the digit as he moved it from one side to the other.

  Kieran dropped his hand to his lap and held her gaze once more. He said nothing for a long moment and her heart started to beat faster. This man was incredibly intriguing despite his faeness. Hell, maybe because of it.

  Finally he looked away. “I don’t think you have a concussion, but you’ll probably have a nice bruise on your head.”

  She touched the bandage on her throat. “Thanks for this.”

  “Don’t thank me. I’m the one who dragged you into all this, remember?” His voice sounded gruff. He pushed up off the couch.

  “What about”—she motioned vaguely at the bedroom, not wanting to think too much about the mess on the floor in there—“that in there. Will the Wild Hunt come for you now?”

  He shook his head. “I was protecting you. No matter how brutal his death, it wasn’t cold-blooded murder. I don’t think the hunt will come for me tonight.”

  She sat staring out the window while Kieran moved around the apartment. The reality of what had just happened pressed through her shock and made her want to take a shower. She felt violated. Brushed by pure hatred. Unclean. She hugged herself.

  Pure and utter evil had touched her tonight and it hadn’t been Kieran. She didn’t care what Kieran said about kidnapping; that man had wanted her dead either tonight or later. Whoever had sent him—they’d wanted her lifeless on the floor, her blood running. Idly, she rubbed at the bandage, an odd, heavy feeling of dread settling deep into her.

  If she’d died tonight, she’d have done so without having accomplished any of things she wanted for herself. A satisfying career, a marriage filled with love, children. She’d never felt that she’d been wasting her life before, but now that unsettling thought lurked on the edges of her mind like a lion looking for easy prey.

  Someone knocked on Kieran’s door and he answered it. A tall, thin blond man with an androgynous appearance walked in, followed by a short, ornery-looking woman with dark red hair.

  The woman jerked her chin at Charlotte. “That the human?”

  The human in question rose from the couch to face them, wearing her bloodstained pajama top like a badge of honor. She’d just faced death and lived to tell the tale. She wasn’t going to let some redheaded battle-ax of a woman intimidate her. Plus, she was cranky. She frowned at the new comer. “Yes, I’m the ‘human.’ Who are you?”

  Kieran pushed a hand through his hair tiredly and then extended it toward the redhead. “Melia and Aelfdane, meet Charlotte Bennett. Charlotte, meet Melia and Aelfdane. They’re here to clean up the mess in the bedroom.”

  Melia gave Charlotte a cool look, then gave her attention to Kieran. “There are guards in the corridor, so I assume you told Queen Aislinn.”

  “Yes. The guards are going to stick around for a while.”

  Aelfdane studied Charlotte. “Of course you know what this means.”

  “Yes.” Kieran glanced at Charlotte. “I do.”

  Charlotte straightened. “What? What does it mean?”

  Kieran ignored her, jerking a thumb in the direction of the guest bedroom. “It’s in there. I only regret I didn’t keep him alive. It would have given us some idea about who’d sent him. My temper got the best of me.”

  “You didn’t get a look at him?” Aelfdane asked Charlotte.

  She shrugged. “It was dark. All I saw was a big guy. Then there was a knife, then panic . . . and melting.”

  “He didn’t use any magick?”

  She shook her head. “His magick came in the variety of a very large blade.”

  Aelfdane nodded. Then he and Melia made their way to the guest bedroom.

  She narrowed her eyes at Kieran. “What does this mean? Answer me this time.”

  He walked toward her. “I’d convinced the queen and her counsel to give me time to show you the fae aren’t as bad as you’ve been led to believe. I thought that by breaking through your misconceptions it would be easier for you to access those memories we need. Easier for us, easier on you.” He paused, his eyes growing cold. “But this changes things. We need to get those memories from you now.”

  Yeah, like, before she was killed. That’s all they were worried about. Great.

  If Kieran was looking to ignite any warm and fuzzy feelings toward the fae, it wasn’t working.

  “YOU need to relax.” Emmaline sat down next to her, a concerned expression on her pretty face that Charlotte didn’t believe. “It will be worse if you don’t.”

  “What do you care?”

  Emmaline’s brow knitted. “Of course I care. We’re not heartless, Charlotte.”

  “Could have fooled me.”

  Kieran spoke as if with acid on his tongue. “This isn’t going to kill you.”

  “How do you know? You’ve never done this before, have you?”

  “We’ve done this lots of times, just never with a human.”

  She sputtered for a moment and gestured at him in frustration. “Yeah, and that would be me. Human.”

  Risa, a slender fae with pale skin and deep red hair that reached the middle of her back—and who apparently had off the chart psychic abilities—cleared her throat. She was the one who was supposed to go memory diving in her head. “Partial human.”

  Kieran rounded on her and yelled, “She’s not ready for that yet!”

  Risa blinked, unperturbed by his violent reaction. “She has a right to know.”

  Charlotte lunged to her feet. “What? What is she saying? What’s going on?”

  Everyone in the room went silent.

  “I’m so sick of you all keeping secrets from me. I—”

  Kieran faced her. “You’ve got fae blood. Not much, but a little. Your human ancest
ors’ relations with the fae weren’t all bad.”

  That meant her ancestors had been really friendly with the fae at some point. Really friendly. She actually felt the blood leave her face. “Does my father know?”

  Kieran shrugged. “We have no idea. He’s full human and therefore we don’t know much about him save for his interactions with you. Some of us have magick enough to follow fae blood outside the walls of Piefferburg if we have a way to locate the fae-blooded in question. We found you through Unseelie Court records and bribed a Faemous TV crew member to get your address to us. Once I had your exact location, I used my bonding ability to draw you here. We have absolutely no access to the fully human-blooded at all, or the fae-blooded who conceal themselves.”

  “So that means the fae blood is on my mother’s side.”

  Kieran nodded. “Even though your mother didn’t possess much fae blood, it was powerful in her.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “It doesn’t work like human genetics. A drop of fae blood in a human might show a lot or only a little. The only time I saw any evidence of faeness in you was in the dream. In the dream you were wild, free, passionate. Fae.”

  She winced. “Don’t talk about that.”

  “Come on, Charlotte, it must make sense.”

  She hugged herself. “No. It doesn’t make any sense at all.” She hadn’t known her mother long. She’d died when Charlotte had been very young. She had no idea if her mother had been wild, free, and passionate. She had no idea what her mother had been and it was a source of never ending pain for her.

  “I would bet money your mother knew about her fae blood, Charlotte. I bet she was wild and beautiful and I bet anything that’s why your father was attracted to her. She probably always felt like she was different than others. She was probably lonelier than you could ever imagine.” He paused, his gaze holding hers. “I don’t know for sure, but I bet that’s why she—”

  “No! No, Kieran.” She turned her face away. “Don’t make excuses for her. Just don’t. You don’t know anything about her and neither do I. She ensured I never would.” Charlotte couldn’t mask the bitterness in her voice.