Dark Enchantment

by Anya Bast

  She stared at her red palms, despair growing in the pit of her stomach. She was going to die in her midtwenties. She’d finally fallen in love and what was her reward? Fucking death.

  God, it made her so angry.

  Calum brought her a damp washcloth and she used it to wipe her skin off. “I can’t believe this.” Her voice shook.

  “I can understand your fear.”

  She rounded on David. “Oh, this isn’t fear. This is rage. This is so unbelievably unfair! I haven’t done anything but fall in love. Kieran never did anything but have the misfortune to be born a twin to a psychopath!”

  David held up a hand. “I know.” He glanced out the window at the silent streets of Kilmessan. “So let’s get this done and get you back into Piefferburg to Kieran so you can find a way to break the curse.”

  Charlotte stood for a moment, fists clenched. Then she collapsed back to sit on the edge of the bed. She stared at the floor for several moments while Calum and David studied her. “There’s no way to break the curse.”

  Calum spread his hands. “In faerie, there’s always a way to break a curse.”

  She took in a deep, steadying breath. Maybe he was right. Maybe there would be a way out of this mess. Maybe there would be a happily-ever-after for her and Kieran.

  Maybe.

  Hope sprang eternal.

  “It’s almost midnight, like you said,” said Calum. “We should go.”

  She stood. “Then let’s go get it.”

  SOMEONE knocked on Kieran’s door. When he got up to answer it a coughing fit assailed him. He leaned against the couch and coughed until blood marked his palm.

  He stared at it. “Damn it,” he whispered.

  Was this happening to Charlotte? He’d had centuries to get used to the idea that this might be the way he’d exit, centuries to adjust—if one could adjust—to the idea of joining the slaugh.

  Wherever she was, Charlotte had to be terrified.

  “Come back to me.” The whisper sounded pained to his own ears.

  The knocking sounded again. He straightened and answered it. The Piefferburg witch stood on the other side, grinning at him. Kieran glowered back. If she hadn’t come with a solution to this mess, she needed to leave. Now.

  “What?” he barked at her.

  “I found a way to break to the curse for your lady, but you’re not going to like it. If you do this, Charlotte will be set free. You, however, will not.”

  Relief surged through him. He would do anything to get Charlotte out of this. “What is it?”

  “You must kill yourself before the curse kills you. If you do that, Charlotte will go free.”

  TWENTY-F IVE

  THE hill was dark when they reached the base, though bright moonlight bathed the area, bleaching everything pale silver. Charlotte, David, and Calum had come prepared with charmed iron weapons. Weapons, David said, they’d dug up from the stores of fae artifacts kept by the HFF after his experience in Israel. Apparently he never left home without them now.

  She didn’t blame him.

  Creeped out, she held tight onto her own charmed iron dagger, something that had likely been made either by Aeric O’Malley or his father many centuries ago. The edge had been sharpened to the point of hellishness and that made her feel good. An extra one was snuggled in a leather sheath on her belt. That made her feel even better.

  By the time they reached the top of the hill her chest throbbed and her breath came shallow. If they were jumped by any hostile fae she was probably dead meat.

  Not that it would be much of a change from her current state.

  They made their way to the Stone of Destiny, a tall chunk of stone rising in the moonlight.

  David’s eyes seemed unnaturally bright. For a human, he seemed to care so much about the fae and obtaining their freedom. It was clear how excited he was by the prospect they might be closing in on the final piece of the bosca fadbh. Three weeks ago someone like David would have confounded her. Now she shared his joy.

  He licked his lower lip. “Okay, let’s get looking.”

  They circled the stone, looking for some hint of the final piece. Calum ran his hands over it, muttering to himself in the ancient language she’d come to recognize as Old Maejian.

  “Nothing.” Charlotte rocked back on her heels. “I don’t see any—Wait.” Her gaze had been caught by the tiny glint in the moonlight, a sliver, really, at the base of the stone. “What’s that?”

  David and Calum hurried over to her.

  “Where? Oh, there,” Calum whispered in near reverence. “Sweet Lady. There it is. I can’t believe it.”

  It was almost completely embedded in the stone. To get it out someone would have to take a sledgehammer to the rock itself, though she doubted even that would work, considering the enchantment it was under.

  “Touch it,” David urged.

  Hesitant, not knowing what to expect, she reached out and put her index finger on the moonlit sliver. Immediately the chunk of metal strained toward her, pushing through the rock as though it were butter. Startled, she snatched her hand away. “Oh, my god.”

  “Indeed. Fancy meeting you here, Charlotte.”

  Charlotte froze at the sound of Gideon Amberdoyal’s voice behind her. Fast as lightning, she jerked the partially extracted piece into her hand. It left a hole in the stone and rock crumbles on the ground. She pushed it into her bra. “Run!”

  She, David, and Calum bolted.

  Only to be stopped short by four huge fae men. She came nose-to-massive-chest with a hulking, red-haired monstrosity. Her hand tightened on the handle of her blade, but this would be the second person she’d stabbed in the last twenty-four hours. The image of Máire’s dead face still haunted her. It made her hesitate.

  The red-haired man grabbed her wrists in a grip so hard it made her vision go dark for a moment. To either side of her, Calum and David fought. The clang of charmed iron against whatever weapons the rogue fae carried rang through the air punctuated by gasps, groans, and curses.

  Looked like Calum and David were losing.

  Gideon walked toward her. “Charlotte, meet Liam. Liam, Charlotte.”

  How the hell had Gideon known the piece was here? Apparently the rogue fae and the Phaendir were working together now? Did that mean she’d never get back into Piefferburg? Her mind spun out a hundred different questions in about a second and a half.

  “You have something of ours.” Gideon held out his hand. “Hand it over and maybe we’ll let you live.” He smiled. “Oh, that’s right, you’re not going to live, are you, Charlotte? You’re dying for the love of a fae.” He leaned in and snarled into her face. “Serves you right.”

  No, it doesn’t serve me right. None of this is right. Rage boiled up from deep within her. The bad guys were not going to win this one. She was through hesitating. Through with mercy. Hell, she was going to be joining the slaugh soon, anyway. She might as well give this everything she had.

  She brought her knee up hard and fast, nailing Liam’s balls with every ounce of strength she had. The bigger the man, the bigger the balls. Releasing her, he doubled over, bellowing with surprise and pain, then went breathless. Wheezing, he dropped to his knees. She brought the blade down into his massive body. Her aim wasn’t the best, but it served. The dagger sank into the back of his shoulder so deep she couldn’t pull it out again.

  She whirled to face Gideon who had gone from innocuous to criminally insane in under two seconds. The veins in his receding hairline pulsed, his eyes were narrowed to slits, and a muscle in his tightly clenched jaw jumped. Charlotte had no doubt he was thinking very gruesome thoughts about all the ways he wanted to torture her to death. She was certain that, if given the chance, he’d act every single one of them out.

  “Give me the piece, Charlotte.” His voice was low and he enunciated every syllable clearly. He lowered his weak chin and looked at her from the top edges of his eyes. Oh, crap. And she’d thought he couldn’t get any creepier looking; now he
looked like something from a horror movie.

  She took another step back.

  Behind her one of the fae men lunged for her, only to be blocked by Calum, who gave a roar similar to something she would imagine a Celt warrior in battle might emit, sending the blade of his charmed iron short sword though the man like a hot knife through ice cream.

  She didn’t have a sword, but she did have an extra dagger hidden in a sheath under her coat. She yanked it and held it up to Gideon. “Don’t come any closer. I’ve stabbed two people in the last twenty-four hours. Don’t think I won’t do it again.”

  Gideon took another step closer to her. Apparently he thought she was bluffing. “I’m not fae. Charmed iron doesn’t work on me.”

  “But I bet the blade wouldn’t do you much good.”

  “Let’s see how you do with it sticking out of your heart.” He ran toward her.

  Her breath seized in her throat and she twisted away from him. He couldn’t get hold of her weapon. She had no doubt that would not go well for her. He grabbed her by her collar and, oh, man, he was stronger than he looked. She shrieked as he whipped her around and tried to punch her.

  She blocked his punch with her forearm and staggered back. She needed to call on the training that Kieran had given her, the small amount of it there was. Except . . . she couldn’t remember a thing.

  He lunged at her again, his eyes all crazy and his deceptively strong arms coming around her, long, thin hands reaching for her dagger. She tried to twist away from him, but it was like freeing herself from concrete. She flailed and kicked as hard as she could.

  His hand closed around her hand, fingers inching to the handle of the weapon. Panic lodged her heart behind her tonsils. She managed to find some wiggle room and brought her elbow back hard into his solar plexus. Gideon oofed, probably more in surprise than anything else. Either way, it gave her the ability to twist free of him.

  She rounded, her heart pounding and her chest tight and painful from the exertion. While she had a slight advantage, she raised the knife. In the same moment David came from the side and tackled him. They rolled on the ground at the base of the Stone of Destiny, punching and kicking until Charlotte couldn’t tell who was on top and who was on the bottom. Then, suddenly, they both lay still.

  Everything went still.

  Dark mounds scattered about her, like a battlefield after a war. She looked around, trying to locate Calum. Then the mound with Gideon and David shifted. Someone moaned, started to stand . . .

  Her grip tightened on the handle of the knife.

  The man groaned again, put a hand to his head and straightened. “Charlotte?” David’s voice.

  Relief poured through her. She coughed a few times and staggered toward him. Gideon lay motionless in the moonlight, blood soaking his white shirt. “Is he dead?”

  “I don’t know. Calum—” David knelt by a nearby fallen man.

  Charlotte rushed to his side to watch him turn his friend over onto his back. Calum had a charmed iron dagger stuck into his chest.

  “I don’t think . . . I can . . . heal this one. Too deep. Hit something . . . I need.” His words came out on agonized puffs of air.

  “No, Calum.” David’s voice broke. “Come on. You’ve been through worse than this.”

  Calum smiled. “Been . . . a good . . . run, man.” Blood dribbled from the corner of his mouth.

  “No, Calum!”

  “Break those . . . walls for . . . me.” The light faded from his eyes and they went glassy and cold.

  “Calum.” David collapsed over Calum’s body, his head bowed. “Damn it.”

  Charlotte pressed a hand to her mouth and rose, feeling responsible for this. “I’m so sorry, David.”

  David said nothing for several long moments. Finally he lifted his head and closed Calum’s eyelids—reminding her acutely of finding her father.

  Had that only been a day ago? It felt like forever.

  He stood. “Calum knew the risks when he made the decision to come along.” He raised his gaze to hers. “You have the piece?”

  She touched her breast. It was uncomfortable and bulky tucked in her bra. “Yes.”

  He began to stride away from the Stone of Destiny. “Then let’s not let Calum’s death be wasted. Come on.”

  “What about his body?” Charlotte hurried after him, her breath coming in shallow, painful gasps.

  “It’s just a husk. Calum’s not in it anymore. He wouldn’t care what we did with it, but I’ll call the local HFF. They’ll come and take it away. Give him a proper burial. Now it’s more important than ever we break those walls, Charlotte. We need to get you back into Piefferburg.”

  “How? The Phaendir know I’m their enemy now. They’ll never let me back in.”

  He shook his head. “We don’t know that. Gideon seemed pretty surprised to find you here. I know I wounded him really badly. I may have even killed him.” He glanced down at his blood-covered shirt and pants. “All this is his. You might still have a shot, but we need to hurry.”

  “Why is it more important than ever that we break the walls, David?”

  He stopped and looked at her. “You don’t know? Any fae that dies outside the walls of Piefferburg walks between the worlds because the Wild Hunt can’t reap them. Calum won’t be able to get to the Netherworld until the walls break.”

  Horrified, she looked back at the body. Calum would be like a ghost, but it was better than becoming one of the slaugh. Maybe.

  “Don’t you want to check to see if Amberdoyal is alive?”

  “Why? If he’s still alive, do you want to finish him off?” He gave a bitter laugh at the look on her face. “Yeah, I thought not. Listen, I know what a snake he is, but not even I’m that cold. No way could I slit a dying man’s throat, not even Gideon P. Amberdoyal’s.”

  She stared at Gideon’s body.

  When she looked back at David, he was already striding away from her, toward the rental car. She followed him, coughing into her hand so hard her breath came out an agonized wheeze.

  “YOU want to . . . what?” Aislinn appeared serene as she sat in her high-backed chair with her hands folded in her lap and her black and silver skirts arranged artfully around her. Her eyes reflected her emotional reaction to Kieran’s words, however. Turmoil.

  He understood. That’s what he felt, too.

  “It’s the only way to free Charlotte.”

  Aislinn shifted in her seat, her heavy gown rustling. “This is your only option?”

  “I wouldn’t be mentioning it if I had any other. This isn’t exactly the outcome I wanted.”

  “I wanted you to find love and be able to live to the end of your natural life span. The whole package. Happily ever after.”

  “Unrealistic, as it turns out.”

  Aislinn’s breath caught and she looked away. Kieran thought he’d glimpsed tears in her eyes. Clearing her throat, she looked back at him. “When do you want to do it?”

  “Soon.”

  “Don’t you think Charlotte might come back to Piefferburg?”

  “Maybe.” He pressed his lips together. Seeing her again and then having to leave her. Lady. It would be hell. “That’s why I want to do it soon.”

  “You have no idea if she’s suffering the effects of the curse?”

  He shook his head. “It’s possible I’m the only one in love. In that case, she’d be unaffected.”

  “If you don’t know whether or not she’s affected, why—”

  “Rush it? Why not? My death is going to happen sooner or later, and I can’t take the chance.”

  Aislinn bit her lower lip for a moment. “Right.”

  “I don’t know what’s going on with Charlotte and it’s killing me. All I know is she had a run-in with that rogue fae, Máire, whom she somehow killed, and that her father is dead. She hasn’t come back to Piefferburg, and not knowing if she’s all right is driving me insane.”

  “Maybe she is suffering under the curse and she’s gone to pu
ll the final piece of the bosca fadbh.”

  The thought had crossed his mind and it chilled his blood. If Máire had known where the piece was through her connection with her sister, it was possible other rogue fae knew the location, too. Charlotte wouldn’t stand a chance against odds like that, especially if the curse was making her sick.

  “Maybe,” he answered. “There’s no way to know.”

  “How do you want to . . . do this?”

  “I don’t know. All I know is I can’t do it on my own.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I can’t do this by myself.” He couldn’t even bring himself to say the word suicide. He loved life too much. “I can’t take my own life by my own hand, not even under these circumstances.”

  “You want to put that on someone else, Kieran? That’s a horrible weight to have to bear—”

  “There are plenty of fae in the Black Tower who would be happy to do it and you know it, lots of Unseelie whose magick yearns to spill life.”

  She looked down into her lap and nodded. “You’re right. I’ll find someone.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You say soon. So, when?”

  He drew a breath. “Tomorrow.”

  TWENTY-SIX

  DAVID and Charlotte took the first available plane out of Dublin in the morning and arrived in Protection City late in the afternoon. It had been a twelve-hour flight all in all, with a stop in New York, and Charlotte was exhausted. She’d slept fitfully on both flights and hadn’t been able to eat much. The effects of the curse were increasing.

  She was glad David was taking charge because she felt—literally—dead on her feet. He rented a car and took her to a motel, where he rented a room, told her to sleep, and that he’d be back soon.

  Her head hit the pillow and she was out.

  It seemed like two seconds later he woke her, pushed her into the bathroom after shoving several shopping bags into her hands. “I bought you fresh clothes. I think I got the size right, but it’s been a while since I bought clothes for a woman.”

  She took them with a tired smile. “I’m sure they’re fine.” Then she disappeared into the bathroom.