“Question for a question,” I breathed. “Why are we still talking?”
Amadan bit my earlobe again, harder this time, just enough to straddle that line between pleasure and pain. I leaned over the countertop invitingly, my breasts smashing the little rounds of cucumber beneath them.
“Hurry,” I intoned in a whimper. “Before Corey gets back.”
“Tell me one thing,” Amadan said, voice low. “Why do you put up with that little shit?” The last word was in English and the ferocity of it was only emphasized by Amadan's lilting accent.
Because nobody else knows or cares that I'm a zombie. I need him.
I couldn't enunciate my thoughts, as they were presently distracted by my underwear sliding down my hips. I could feel Amadan's erection pressing against me through his pants and proceeded to wiggle against him, hoping to act as a catalyst to the big event.
And then I heard the front door open.
“Shit,” I whispered, pushing him back and bending down for my panties. As I was squatting, feeling stupid and unbelievably frustrated, I heard Corey's signature combat boots waltz into the room. I was hidden by the center island and noticed with great relief that Amadan was crouching in his cat form near the back door.
“Georgette,” Corey whistled, leaping up to sit on the edge of the island. I smiled at him and held up a slice of cucumber as an excuse for my position on the floor. “We found the Coalition's headquarters.” I stood shakily to my feet and tried to focus on what he was saying. It was more important than a lost chance to romp with Amadan. At least, I was trying to convince my body of that fact.
“Yeah?” I prompted, knowing he'd elaborate on his statement without continuous prompting like the stubborn sidhe needed. “And what happened?” Corey's ruddy face twisted up into the most wicked grin I had ever seen, full of a perverted glee that I'd before seen only on the fae. Lynna, Mai, and Elizabeth strutted in behind him and circled around the island like some sort of macabre Charlie's Angels. Why doesn't he ever summon guys? I wondered absentmindedly, my libido still having nearly complete control of my brain.
“We torched the place.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
SIDHE
“Despite the absence of wings, the sidhe are the quintessential 'faery.' Their shining skin and luscious color palettes make them quite pleasing to the human eye, but their glorious facade hides deceit, mischief, and an innate inability to empathize with those around them. They are the most powerful beings in the Other Place and their rule encompasses all who pass through. Sidhe rule is split among three houses: The Light, The Dark, and The Gray. Though the latter court has been inactive for more than two decades.”
I woke to the sound of floorboards creaking. Not because it was a particularly loud or raucous noise but because whoever it was, was conscious enough of it that they were trying to keep things muffled.
I rolled over and shook Corey awake.
“What?” he snapped sleepily before falling silent. The creaking had paused just outside of our door.
I swung my feet out of bed, trying to make as little sound as possible, and into a pair of slippers as the doorknob began to turn. Fortunately, part of Corey's obsession with the little details in life meant that our door was locked.
I shot out of bed and grabbed a robe off of the chair near the window, draping it over my bare shoulders. Corey slid the nightstand drawer open and removed a black revolver from beneath a pile of magazines. He opened up the cylinder and slipped in several rounds before clicking it back into place with the butt of his hand.
Suddenly, a boot burst through the bedroom door, splintering decades old mahogany workmanship into scraps. I had been expecting the fae with the hellhound again or maybe some new, unsavory beastie that I'd never had the unfortunate experience of running into to. But it was just a human. Dressed head to toe in black, including a Kevlar vest much like the one Corey owned with big, white letters emblazoned across the front and a gas mask covering his face, the intruder stormed into the room brandishing a very impressive gun as thick around as my thigh. I didn't know what the acronym 'M.E.T.' stood for, but by the looks of him, our guest wasn't there for tea.
He didn't see Corey at first, just me, standing frozen in a beam of moonlight, my white silk robe drifting in the rush of air from the hall. I think that deep down, he might have been a good person because the intruder stood unmoving with indecision at my rather innocent visage. It was what got him killed.
Corey shot the man in the back of the head with his revolver. The black ski cap the man was wearing did nothing to stop the tiny bullet. In fact, neither did his skull as the projectile burst through his right ear in a mess of blood that looked jet black in the unlit room. The unknown man collapsed to his knees before falling face forward onto the rug in front of the bathroom door.
My breath was coming in quick little gasps as I looked to Corey for help. He flung himself out of bed and into his pants before gesturing at me to silently follow him. I watched, hands shaking, as he leaned out the bedroom door and scoped out the hallway. There was no one there, but I could hear the distinctive sound of screaming coming from Mai's room. And I was pretty sure that the terrified cries for help weren't hers.
Corey took off down the hallway without waiting to see if I was following. I paused for just a moment to pry the massive gun from the dead man's fingers. I didn't know how to use it, but I'd be damned if I left another round of ammo behind for them to shoot at me with. He was already kicking down the door to Mai's room when I arrived behind him.
The scene inside was pure carnage. Bits of human being lay scattered about the tasteful green and gray décor in a manner that suggested the 'M.E.T.' people, whoever they were, had found the wraith in a sour mood. Not that she was ever in a good one. We were lucky enough to stumble onto Mai just as she was beginning the process of ripping the throat out of her last victim.
“Stop,” Corey ordered, freezing Mai in place just before her ragged teeth met flesh. Despite her nasty attitude, she was the most bound by Corey's magic and it showed. “I want to question him.” Mai dropped her charge on the bed and I noticed, with no small amount of glee, that the man had wet himself. Whoever the fuckers were, at least they were getting theirs.
“What the fuck is M.E.T.?” Corey asked as he ripped the man's gas mask off. The person underneath was much less sinister looking without his headgear. Just a smooth faced boy really, barely any stubble on his chain, and a mop of raggedy brown hair peeking out from under his ski cap.
“M-m-m-m-m-mandatory,” the boy stuttered, shaking in Corey's firm grasp. “E-e-e-e – ” His teeth continued to chatter so violently that I could barely make out his next words. “Eradication t-t-team.” Corey's brow knit together and he shook the kid by his vest. Mai licked her frosty lips and scraped her chipped nails down the pale, blue skin of her throat. The boy's eyes were riveted on her like white on rice. He couldn't look away.
“What the fuck does that mean?” Corey snapped, trying to draw the kid's attention.
“Our F-f-father in heaven, h-hallowed be your n-name. Your kingdom come, your will be d-d-done, on earth as it is in h-h-heaven.” The boy's eyes had glazed over and I noticed then that there was a dark stain spreading out from his abdomen. Mai had worked her magic before we'd gotten there and I just hadn't noticed.
“Goddamn it, Mai,” Corey snarled, releasing the boy's vest. “Why can't you show any fucking restraint?”
“I didn't know, dear Master, that you would require a man bent on taking our lives to be treated with respect and dignity. I greatly apologize.” Corey ignored her barb and ushered us both into the hallway. Lynna and Elizabeth were waiting.
“Master, I killed a man with a giant gun.” Elizabeth held up a weapon, twin to my own. It was a strange sight to see a twelve year old girl, blonde hair in pink foam curlers, and bunny slippers beneath her lace and ruffle trimmed white nightie, holding a massive, black machine gun. Lynna crossed her arms beneath her bulging breasts with a huff.
&nb
sp; “Who the hell are these people? A girl needs her beauty sleep.” Corey ignored them both and made towards the staircase.
“I think they're from the CRL,” I mused quietly, making the small leap between the boy's frantic prayers and the day's events. “Where's Amadan?” I asked, trying not to sound too interested. Lynna twirled some hair around her finger. She looked better in her silky violet nightgown than I wanted to admit. Too bad I hated her.
“Right before I went to bed, he left. Said he had an errand to run.” She shrugged her pale shoulders. I sighed. I hadn't gotten a chance to talk to Amadan since Corey had come home boasting of his accomplishments though at that moment, they didn't seem like much. They obviously hadn't been careful enough if the CRL knew who had been responsible. Or maybe they'd just figured out that they'd gotten the wrong zombie and had come back to finish the job. Either way, I now knew that despite their hatred for the undead, the CRL was working with a necromancer. Corey had reinstated the house's shields before we'd gone to bed. They were down again and he hadn't even noticed. On the bright side, my sister and her husband had been so shocked to hear about the Coalition's torching on the news that they had canceled our family dinner and volunteered to help with the clean up. Not that I particularly wanted any members of my family joining the religious nutcases, but at least I'd avoided an awkward evening of family put downs.
“We've got to get the fuck out of here,” Corey whispered, eyes wide, rimmed with fear, as he raced back down the hallway towards us. “There's probably twenty more of those men downstairs, guns and all. I'll send the liches down as a distraction.”
“We can handle them, Master,” Mai sang jubilantly, her voice full of raw arrogance and perverse joy. I avoided the sight of her wrinkled hand reaching down to touch herself. The wraith woman was obsessed with pain and suffering.
“No, we can't. I'm not risking it. Let's get the fuck out of here.” Corey took off down the hall in the direction opposite the stairs. Elizabeth and I followed, guns tucked under our arms, while Lynna and Mai took up the rear. The idea of abandoning our house was horrifying.
No house, no supplies, no glamour. I wanted to cry and maybe, later, I would, but at that moment I had more important things to be worrying about. We could all hear the army of boots pounding up the stairs and had just enough time to round the corner in the hall before the army of religious soldiers hit the top of the landing.
Corey was taking us to the library, my favorite room in the house. It had floor to ceiling dark wood shelves lined with old tomes and classic literature. Corey had told me once that it had come with the house and I had always felt some special connection to the previous owner when I'd settled into one of the antique leather armchairs to read. Now, it was our lifeboat in a rough storm. It was the only room on the upper floor with access to the downstairs. I assumed that at some point in the old house's history, there had probably been a servants' staircase, but the previous owner had done quite a bit of remodeling and I suspected that it had been one of the first items to go.
Once we'd all filed past the thick, mahogany double doors of the library, Corey shut them and bolted the old, fashioned wooden dead bolt. He'd then instructed Mai and Lynna to move some of the furniture to block the door.
On the opposite side of the room was a set of French doors, inlaid with frosted glass depicting a Celtic tree of life and rimmed with swaths of hunter green, velvet drapes. Corey pushed them open, and we found ourselves on a metal terrace. In accordance with Corey's policy of not attracting undue attention to ourselves, it had been left uncared for and was rusted and covered with a fine layer of bright green moss. There was a small coiled staircase leading down to the grounds and parked immediately next to it was Lynna's '94 Nissan Altima with its peeling black paint and a pair of keys tucked under the front visor. It was a beautiful sight since there was no way in hell the M.E.T. people were going to let us have access to Corey's truck, van, or my car. The old car was a clunker at best; it had terrible gas mileage from lack of maintenance and balding tires, but at that point, it looked as beautiful as a gleaming red Corvette, though with the five of us, it was going to be a tight fit.
The staircase and the car were so well hidden behind an overgrown hedge and several prickly blackberry bushes that they hadn't yet been discovered by our attackers. We followed behind Corey slowly, trying to make as little sound as possible in the still night air. It was freezing cold, not unusual for November, and I almost envied Mai the fact that she wasn't wearing a glamour. The fog had rolled in off of the nearby Pacific Ocean and the taste of salt and sea sat on the tip of my tongue like a tart reminder of our proximity to it. I breathed it in deeply, savoring it, and tried not to wonder what would happen in a few days when my glamour ran out. Sure, we might have Amadan's blood, if he didn't wander back here and get himself killed since we had no way to contact him. But a lot of the stuff that went into our glamours was either rare, expensive, or both. It would take Corey a long time to build up the supplies needed to keep us all in stock.
I rubbed my hands over my face as I waited to crawl into the back seat behind Elizabeth. Lynna nearly shoved me in her haste to follow and I swear to God, I would have snapped her arm in half had the situation not been so dire. Mai, bitch that she was, took the front seat while Corey took the wheel.
The sound of the old Nissan starting was like a shotgun blast in the quiet air. I think we all cringed and there was a moment of cold fear as Corey put the car in reverse and pulled away from the mansion. Once we were in drive, he put the pedal to the floor and sped towards the front entry gates.
It was only then that we all got a glimpse of how serious the whole situation was. It looked like a SWAT team had set up camp in our front drive. There were at least three black vans emptying more soldiers like the ones we had already dispatched as well as two gleaming, silver Lincoln Town Cars, windows tinted.
The entire cadre of religious fanatics, for there was no doubting that these people were from the CRL since all three vans had the Coalition's name printed in flowing, white scripture along the sides, turned as one as we pulled into view. At least twenty machine guns turned towards our tiny vehicle as I hunkered down, hands over my head and waited for the inevitable.
It didn't come. There was an explosion of sound and the pinging of bullets as if off a sheet of metal. When I raised my shaking head to glance out the window, I saw that Corey had thrown up a shield next to our car. His arms were shaking and a sweat had broken out down his neck and back, but we were already turning onto the street and flying down the pavement as fast as the old automobile would let us.
Nobody spoke for several minutes as Corey merged onto the highway and we got further and further away from the massive assault on our house.
“What about Amadan?” I ventured bravely, nearly fifteen minutes later. Nobody cared to answer me, so I fell silent again. It was another hour before anyone spoke.
“Does anyone have any money on them?” Corey asked, wiping the still dripping sweat from his brow. That shield had taken a lot out of him and he looked like hell. No one answered. He sighed. “Okay, Lynna, we're going to pick a motel and I'll drop you off at the front desk. Roll the clerk, get us a room, two if you can, and make sure they're on the second floor and facing away from the street. Meet us back outside and be quick about it.” Lynna mumbled an affirmative reply and I felt my heart drop to the bottom of my stomach when I saw Corey's pick.
The Flamingo was one of the grungiest flea bag motels I had ever seen. The dark brown paint on the outside was peeling away and there were shopping carts lined up in front of some of the doors, filled to capacity with stuffed trashed bags and dirty clothing. The 'Welcome' sign only managed a sickly, flickering, baby puke pink 'e' and 'm' and the windows of the front office were spray painted with phrases so nasty, even I blushed after reading.
“Corey,” I whined, leaning forward. Elizabeth turned her wide blue eyes to mine, pleading. Lynna and Mai stayed silent. “If Lynna can roll the desk cler
k, why can't we pick a nicer place?”
“Because George,” Corey replied, putting an unnecessary amount of emphasis on my name. “Nicer places keep nicer books. Rolling one person doesn't guarantee us a room or anonymity. They'll figure out we haven't paid and come check on us.” He pulled the car to a stop under a very unstable looking overhang and set the emergency brake. “Shit holes like this don't care and they don't pay attention to faces. If someone comes looking for us, we'll have the best chance of staying safe here. I'm sorry, George.” His entire monologue had sounded tired and cruel, but the last three words had held an undertone of sorrow. I think he really did feel bad about our situation.
Mai had to squeeze onto the floor in front of her seat to let Lynna out since her blue wrinkled skin and solid black eyes would have been just a little too conspicuous to any rubberneckers, and believe you, me, there were a lot of them.
When I glanced up at the second floor, I saw several dirty, brown curtains being pulled back, frowning faces staring down at us, scoping the newcomers out. This was the kind of place where you came and stayed for awhile. The intense gazes of the current occupants made me seriously doubt Corey's words. They weren't just absorbing our faces, they were absorbing our very essences, and I had no doubt that the first chance they got to sell us up the river for an ounce of crack, we would be screwed.
Lynna threw her shoulders back and tossed a wave of poorly dyed red over her shoulder. Her skimpy nightie left little to the imagination, and I was already hearing whistles and catcalls radiating out of some of the lower level rooms. I'd have been worried for her if she hadn't been a vampire.
She sauntered into the front office and I lost sight of her. The windows were so grimy that all I could make out were two fuzzy shadows separated by a large dark square which I assumed was the counter. I pushed my gun under Corey's seat, next to Elizabeth's, and waited, breath held in tightly, for the results.
Gray and Graves: A Dark Fae Menage Urban Fantasy (The Three Courts of Faerie Book 1) Page 13
