by Cecy Robson
Well, isn’t this a wonderous way for them to bond?
Ryker inches closer, his foreboding presence jabbing me with a tangible poke. “You cannot take this responsibility on your own. You haven’t mastered enough of your power to protect yourself, much less a soul marked for death.”
“Ryker, he’s a kid,” I point out. “I can’t turn my back on a child.”
“You’re not ready,” Ryker reminds me.
“Not ready” is an understatement. Mercifully, he keeps the extent of my inadequacies to himself. Still, that doesn’t mean I’m inept or that I can’t help.
“Little Stevie needs me,” I tell him.
“We need you more.” Bill advances in Sebastian’s direction. “My apologies, Walter. We can’t risk Olivia’s safety to guard one soul.”
The dragons gather around Sebastian when his skin deepens to a vicious purple. “You promised to help me!”
“No,” Bill snaps, his own teeth showing. “I only agreed to meet with you and gauge Olivia’s readiness. I never promised anything.”
Bill sighs, attempting to reel in the patience he’s most known for. “I know you lost a great deal when you crossed over.”
“You know nothing!” Mr. Sebastian hollers. “My wife, my father―” He yanks the pictures from the table and throws them at Bill. “―my family slaughtered like game by that son of a whore!”
The dragons yank him back when he lunges at Bill. Bill doesn’t react, his calm replacing his anger. Me, I can’t stop my heart from racing. A Dragon vs Gargoyle showdown is like two Jersey girls fighting, not something you want to be anywhere near.
Ryker clasps my arm and tries to angle me behind him. I ease away. As much as I don’t like Mr. Sebastian I feel and empathize with his pain.
“I’ll protect your son,” I assure him. “I swear I will.”
Ryker glares at me, his kickass Ankou super suit clinging to his form. The edges of his cape flutter from the restless breeze sweeping through the trees. “Olivia, Cathasach wants you dead. Your capture is catastrophically more disastrous than the fall of an Ancient.”
“Tell me about it,” I agree.
Ryker seethes, as in practically singes a hole into the ground where he stands. He hasn’t been this miffed at me in ages. I must be doing something right.
“Do you also know that in taking on the role as this boy’s protector, you’ll announce your presence to Cathasach and his entire pack?” Ryker snarls. “That death mark is ingrained to find Sebastian and any member of his family anywhere.”
“Only if the kid stays with his father,” I reply. “A death mark only extends to other family members if they’re within the threshold of the home at the time of its placement. Little Stevie was at the ball game the night of the attack.”
I cross my arms when Ryker’s brows join tight enough to hold a pencil and configure fractions. He probably thought I wouldn’t remember that speck of Cù-Sìth trivia. Game on, Death. I’m smarter than I look. “And before you say anything, if Stevie and Mr. Sebastian remain apart, without speaking and without seeing each other, Cathasach can’t extend the mark through their father and son blood bond.”
I don’t exactly add neener, neener, neener, but it’s implied.
Bill speaks up. “Stopping them from communicating and contacting each other may not be enough. If their thoughts for each other are strong, that may be enough to lead the hounds to you.”
“You’re wrong, Bill,” Sebastian insists. “As Olivia said, Stevie wasn’t home when the hounds arrived. He was nowhere near my home and hasn’t returned since. He is immune to the full power of the death mark.”
“You’re making assumptions,” Bill replies.
“I’m not,” Sebastian adds. “You know I’m not.”
Bill’s voice remains flat. “It’s not a chance we’re willing to take.”
Ryker, like Bill, won’t budge. I move closer to him. “Stevie is an innocent little kid, Ryker. Enough innocents have perished. I’m not adding another to the mounting list.”
“No,” he growls. “I refuse to allow anything to happen to you.”
Funny how a potentially swoon worthy moment can be tainted by a direct order to cease and desist. “Ryker, may I have a word with you, Bill, and Jane alone?” I smile through gritted teeth. I confess, it’s not one of my cuter grins.
The forest and dragons disappear, leaving Bill, Jane, Ryker, and I on a hilltop with a sea of stars blinking above us. Fireflies the size of my palm with flickering pastel lights spin around us, carrying trays of coffee and donuts.
Wow. Jane is good.
The fireflies veer my way with enough enthusiasm to shame a band of Girl Scouts. “No thank you,” I say, though the Boston Cremes look scrumptious.
Bill stops his pacing long enough to lift a cup of coffee from the passing tray. He takes a sip only after a firefly tips a little silver pitcher filled with cream into his cup and another firefly stirs. Okay. Things are getting weird now. “Olivia,” he says. “The Ankou has a point. Taking Sebastian’s son under your protection will only make it easier for Cathasach to find you.”
I touch Ryker’s arm, not really loving how Bill continues to refer to Ryker as the “Ankou.” He has a name and like it or not, Ryker is one of us. “Ryker,” I say. “Between your power and Jane’s, you can amass a disorientation ward strong enough to an keep the hounds away and buy us more time. You heard Sebastian, his son wasn’t home when the death mark was created. All we need is to find a place to hide little Stevie where you and Jane can set up the wards.”
Ryker shakes his head. “It’s not so simple, Olivia. My magic clashes with the living Fae’s power. My wards will cancel out Jane’s, and hers mine.”
“Seriously? The wards in your home worked well when . . .”
My voice trails at Ryker’s warning stare. He doesn’t want me to mention our near miss with the Cù-Sìth at his place. Bill lowers his mug carefully. Ryker continues as if uninterrupted. “The wards in my home work well because I’ve spent years building and reinforcing them.” He motions around. “Jane’s magic comes easily to her because it doesn’t require the power protection wards do. We don’t have time to build the wards Sebastian needs to shield his son.”
“Can we reinforce one in another home? It’s my understanding Sebastian owns several residences.”
Ryker rubs his eyes. “If Cathasach found him once, he’ll find him again. The boy isn’t safe anywhere and neither is anyone who’s with him.”
In the silence that follows, Bill accepts another cup of coffee. “Someone led the gremlins to Walter Sebastian’s house and ordered them to steal their talismans,” he says.
I understand what Bill means. The gremlins aren’t working alone. “There’s another Fae involved,” I agree. “A strong one.”
Bill tightens his grip on his coffee. “Yes,” he says. “Gremlins are infamous for causing mischief. They’ll hide keys or fill mailboxes with shaving cream. But the silliness they engage is never meant to harm. Look at them now, they’re robbing Fae of their protection and watching them die. What’s the point? What’s in it for them? World domination if they succeed? No. These are simple Fae with no more cunning or malice than a small child. Whoever else is involved is working directly with Cathasach.”
Ryker grinds his teeth. “Have your sources found any of the gremlins?”
“Frankie found one who was at the club the night of the attack.” Bill sighs. “He disappeared the moment Frankie kicked down his door. According to Sebastian, he’s one of several gremlins who materialized at his home.”
Jane polishes off her donut. “Decision,” she crows.
I lift my purse. “She wants us to make a decision. I’ve already made mine,” I remind them.
Ryker looks to Bill. “We told you, we don’t like your decision.”
“No, we don’t,” Bill agrees.
They chose a great time to be BFFs. I adjust the position off my whip and meet their faces. “I’m not letting
that little boy die. Mr. Sebastian has experienced enough loss. We all have.” I poke Ryker in the chest when he tries to argue. “Ryker, I don’t like the idea of you hunting the Cù-Sìth without me, and yet you’ll do it regardless of what I say.”
“That’s different,” he says.
I ram my fists on my hips. It’s hard to pull off tough as hell in pastels, but I do my darndest. “No, it’s not. You’re risking yourself to help the Ancients and the Fae. I’m trying to save a young dragon and buy the Ancients more time.” My brows knit tighter the longer he glares. “You can’t stop me.” My eyes cut to Bill. “And neither can you. So, work with me to help this little boy or don’t. Either way I’m not hiding in the Bat Cave while Cathasach is out there hunting yet another innocent soul, and Ryker is fighting the Cù-Sìth alone.”
I lift a blueberry donut from a passing tray and take a big bite. I chew slowly, waiting for the furious Grim Reaper and grumpy gargoyle to speak. Jane joins me by taking a cruller. She licks her lips. “Glen Cove,” she says.
Bill snatches a glazed donut. “Fine, if that’s what you wish.” He waves the donut at me. “You will take the child to my beach house on Long Island. Jane warded it years ago, but it will need the extra protection. Jane will you―” She nods and polishes off her second breakfast, allowing Bill to finish divulging his plan. “Your location will only be known to us, and us alone. In the meantime, we’ll use every resource to find Cathasach.”
“Reinforcing the wards will take time,” Ryker adds. At Jane’s nod, Ryker addresses me. “You and the boy will have to stay in my residence until we can move you. With the aggressive tactics Cathasach is using, we can’t keep you in one place for long.” To Bill he says, “Tell the Ancients to go into hiding. Except for you, allow no one to know their whereabouts.”
“Won’t hide,” Jane says, lifting her chin so a firefly can wipe her face with a moist towel.
Worry replaces Bill’s frustration. “She won’t leave Olivia to save herself. She’s sworn to protect her even if it means her soul.”
I hurry to Jane’s side and clutch her delicate and elderly hands. “Jane, you can’t―”
My words lodge in my throat. “You can’t die, Livvie,” she croaks. “You’re the one.” She squeezes my hands. It’s all I can do not to cry. “It’s time,” she says.
The beautiful open field falls away as we return to the forest on the 28th Floor. Mr. Sebastian leaps to his feet when he sees me wiping my eyes. Bill holds out a hand. “Surrender the boy to our care, Walter,” he tells him. “Olivia will watch over him.”
Tears fall in large drops against Sebastian’s cheeks. He calls in the direction of large stand of trees. “Frankie, bring Stevie out.”
Frankie steps through the trees, glancing from side to side, ever watchful. Lack of sleep mars his strong face, yet he offers me a small grin. “Hey, Liv,” he tells me.
I try to return his smile. Jane’s pledge makes it hard. It’s not easy to hear your friends are willing to die so you can live. “Hi, Frankie.” I glance around him, half-expecting Mr. Sebastian’s son to be glued to Frankie’s tall legs.
Frankie shoots me a look I can’t quite interpret before glancing over his shoulder. “Come on, kid. They’re waiting for you.” With the exception of the breeze rustling through the leaves, all is quiet.
Frankie raises his voice. “Kid, come on!”
Little Stevie steps out from a section of trees, texting away, the barbed leather dog collar around his neck one loop shy of choking him to death. He dressed up to meet Life. A gray T-shirt with two reindeer doing 69 hangs over his thin frame and past the crotch of his frayed jeans. He pauses long enough to scratch his ass before resuming his texting.
“This is Stevie, my son,” Mr. Sebastian announces. “Stevie, meet Olivia. She’s agreed to watch over you and assure your safety.”
Stevie glances up. Chocolate brown eyes coaled with black liner look up at me. He raises his fist, causing the rows his spikey hair to bounce. “Hey. I go by Anthrax.”
At least, I think that’s what he said. The piercings lining his bottom lip make him hard to understand. Ryker and Bill train their glares on me.
Some days, it doesn’t pay to be a hero.
Chapter Twenty-One
“Where do you want these?” Stevie asks.
I glance up from my laptop to see the neat stacks of paper lining Ryker’s dining room table. “With the depositions going to the Superior Court.”
“Here?” Stevie points.
“No, those are copies of the criminal charges in Marco’s new murder case, that’s a separate matter.”
Stevie wanders to the other side. “Oh. The ones going to the judge.”
“Exactly.” I smile approvingly when he coordinates them to the right case. Piercings, obsession with roadkill, and his bizarre taste in T-shirts aside, Stevie is a good kid. The first few days at Ryker’s were hard on him. He was cut off from his friends, his father, and his home. When I started assigning him projects to help me with Marco’s workload, Stevie came out of his slump and became quite the chatter box.
Stevie returns to the copier behind me and sorts through the assignments topped with sticky notes. “Are you going to practice today, Livvie?”
I stop scrolling. I was training in the Bat Cave without Ryker, just as he wanted. My progress had dwindled and, at times, ground to a halt. I’m not sure if it’s from the lack of Ryker or his instruction. What I know is, I can’t focus without him here. I’m scared to death for him. He’s out there all alone, hunting hounds and here I am, losing control over my magic. There are moments when I can’t even raise a spark. I’m going backwards in ability and I don’t know how to fix it.
“Liv?” Stevie asks.
I clear my throat. “Yes. As soon as I finish with this disposition, we’ll head downstairs.”
Stevie flicks through the stacks of paper. “Can I run them down to the firm? It will be good to get out.”
For both of us, I agree. Even in this weather. “It’s not safe, Stevie,” I say. “I’m sorry.”
The wind has picked up since the morning. Waves splash against the dock and the current has increased in velocity. The raging river is so loud, Stevie can hear it through the dense glass, despite that his hearing isn’t as acute as mine.
“I know you’re right,” Stevie mutters. “I’m just starting to feel trapped.” He punches a few buttons on the copier. The machine buzzes and sorts several stacks before he speaks again. “Hey, Liv. Can I take a picture of you?”
I continue typing. “What for?”
“When I get out of here, I want to show my friends what you look like.”
My heart warms. I’m touched the little dragon considers me a friend. “Sure, Stevie.”
He comes around me and lifts his phone, snapping a few selfies of us. I resume my typing when he stands. “Cool,” he says. “Hey. Would you mind if I tell them we’re doing it?”
My fingers freeze over the keyboard and bile stews in my belly. Ew. “Absolutely not,” I say.
“How come?”
“It’s inappropriate and illegal.” I shudder as my nausea worsens. “Not to mention, it’s creepy! Why would you want anyone to think we. . .” Good stars. I can’t even say the words.
“Cuz you’re cute. Plus, it’s the best excuse for being away.”
“Stevie, I don’t want to go to prison. Please think of something else. Tell them you went to rock star camp or something.”
“Rock star camp?”
“Or something,” I say again. “I don’t care what you make up so long as it doesn’t involve me and underage debauchery.”
He chuckles. “Kay’. It’s just as well. None of my friends would believe I banged a girl as hot as you. I’m just a skinny kid who―”
“Who needs to make copies,” I finish for him. “Seriously, Stevie. No more. You’re wiggin’ me out.”
“I’m almost sixteen . . .”
I cover my ears. “La, la, la. I’m n
ot listening.”
I shove Stevie’s twisted hormonal thoughts out of my head. It’s easy seeing how every thought always returns to Ryker. I’ve barely seen him since Stevie and I moved in four days ago. Ryker isn’t technically alive and doesn’t need to sleep. That doesn’t mean he can’t experience exhaustion.
Bill’s leads have located several Cù-Sìth packs and they’re finding more each day. Ryker, true to his word, is taking on as many as he can. He hasn’t told me how many. But I’ve seen him return for weapons, reeking off wrath and death.
The rare times he returns to rest, he locks himself in his bedroom and won’t allow me in.
“Hey, Liv?”
Stevie pulls me from my thoughts. “Yes?”
“If something happens to my dad, you know, if the hounds get him, will you tell me?”
He keeps his back to me. Still, I can sense the tension beneath his Bo-Peep Makes Out with Werewolf T-shirt and along his lanky shoulders. “I’ll always be honest with you, Stevie. I’m just hoping I won’t have to be honest about that.”
“Yeah. Me, too.”
He shuffles through the legal folders, his focus faltering and his movements more robotic.
Poor kid has really had it rough. I offer him a small smile. “Let’s go work out downstairs,” I say. “We’ll start on the treadmill and then you can help me with target practice.”
“Yeah?” he asks. At my nod he stacks the paperwork in his hands and sets it on the copier. “Can I run in my jeans? I have sneakers on.”
I stand and tug my tank top over my leggings. “You can try. If it doesn’t work, just come back up and change.”
“Cool.” He follows me down the winding metal staircase, frowning at the sea chest shoved against the wall. The force of the egg extractor’s hum is rattling it against the floor. “Whoa. Vanessa’s sure in a mood.”
“That she is,” I mutter, giving Vanessa ample space. I hurry across the room and to the treadmills Ryker ordered. Vanessa and I will never be BFFs and that’s fine with me.
“Do you want to try for four miles this time?” Stevie asks.
I shake my head. “No, I’m still struggling with three―”
