“In reference to what?” Samael asked as we continued slogging through the cool water.
“You said that the only reason that I wasn't dead is because you did what you did. Well, what did you do?”
“I redirected the flow of the liath,” Samael said and cast a smile over his shoulder at me. It was cheeky and familiar, and I felt my lips trying to return the gesture. I could tell that whatever it was that he had done, he found it to be a clever trick, something that Liadain would've appreciated.
“So they won't go to the scales anymore?” I asked, trying to understand this crazy world that I was suddenly so much a part of.
“Not for the time being,” he said and his voice dropped a notch, like the thought, though clever was a bit disheartening. “I can't let them stagnant in purgatorial hell forever, but I suppose it's better than the alternative.”
“And that would be … ” I prompted, remembering Rachel telling me that Gadrael ate souls. I didn't exactly know what that entailed, but it didn't sound like a nice way to spend one's afterlife.
“Gadrael,” Samael began before pausing and I had a brief moment to wonder if he knew that the man was his father. I was sure that he did, but just in case, I decided not to mention it. That kind of revelation is best left for a warm night in front of a fire, when there's a chance to process, not in the middle of the woods on the run from religious fanatics with machine guns. “Consumes souls to enhance his own power.”
“How do you do that though?” I asked. I'd always believed that a soul was an intangible essence of a person's memories, thoughts, and feelings. It wasn't something that could be slapped between two pieces of bread and slathered with mayonnaise. Right? Samael stopped abruptly, holding out his hand to keep me from moving forward. I sealed my lips and listened for whatever it was that had caused him to worry. There. I heard a rustling in the trees. Movement. From above. My face tilted back, eyes scanning the limbs for whoever – whatever – was up there.
A black cat was slinking along tree limbs, eyes reflecting the light back like two small mirrors. It was at least as large as a cougar, maybe bigger, with rippling muscles and fangs like a saber-toothed tiger. White whiskers curled back from a face that held more hate and more hunger than any wild cat could ever hope to achieve in nature. Samael had turned to face it, eyes darkening in preparation for a fight. I could see it in the tenseness of his shoulders, the ways his hands fisted by his sides.
“What is it?” I whispered as the cat shimmied down the base of the tree and landed softly less than twenty feet away from where we stood. Separated from the mess of branches and leaves, I was able to get a clearer view of my newest enemy. It had rounded ears like a bear that swiveled back and forth on the top of its bony skull like radars, searching for the slightest sound and a tail that was as long as its entire body, maybe longer.
“Agnoble,” Samael said and he was gone in a blur, standing next to me one moment, crashing into the cat the next. The two rolled to the ground, and as I watched, the black panther shifted and melted, exactly as Amadan had done, until what I saw was a naked man, skin pale and glimmering a light shade of green tussling with Samael's suddenly unglamoured form. The agnoble was nude while Samael was now wearing that same, strange woven armor in black with the slightest purple sheen to it. The two of them made a rather pretty, glittering mass as they swung at one another, content to use hands and feet in place of weapons. I chewed my bottom lip and wondered if I should get involved. It didn't seem as if the fight was going either way and there was M.E.T. to worry about. As if on cue, shots rung out from the direction of the house, and I had to close my eyes and still my feet for fear that I would turn tail and run back, just to see what was happening. I had just lost Rachel; I wasn't ready to lose my mother, too.
I forced myself to open my eyes and move forward, away from the house, towards Samael. I was still a zombie. There was good to be found in that, especially in a fight. I waited until Samael was facing towards me, grappling with his opponent, and reached in, hands enclosing the agnoble's throat. The man stiffened, his skin rippling a dozen shades of green, before his body began to melt and run between my fingers like wax. I screamed and tried to pull away but not before an excessive amount of the ooze coated my hands and burned like battery acid.
“Samael!” I screeched, stumbling back and turning around so that I could plunge my hands into the water of the stream. The ooze steamed and hardened, encasing my fingers in a layer of stiff white. Samael was there as quickly as he had gone, pulling my hands out and stripping them of their morbid new gloves. My glamoured hands were badly burned, red and blistered and aching like hell. “What the fuck was that?” I panted as I looked into panicked eyes. Samael was scared.
“We need to get the fuck out of here,” he told me. I looked around but saw nothing as we rose from our knees in the mud and Samael grasped my wrist, hauling me behind him at a run. After a couple of feet though, I sure as hell smelled it. The stench of the reaver had been bad enough, but this, this was on a whole new level. I had to pinch my nostrils shut to keep from gagging and ended up breathing through my teeth as I tried not to let the cloying scent of suffering grab hold of my tongue. I had smelled death before, dozens of times, but it wasn't nearly as horrible as this. I could imagine that if you locked someone in a dungeon, left them there for years with festering, pus filled wounds and let them sleep in their own waste, that it would only smell half as terrible as whatever was coming for us now.
Samael picked up the pace, and I found myself struggling to catch up, undead or no, Samael was fast. When we reached a private back road lined with sprawling ranch houses, Samael turned us north, back towards the city and had us run down the side of the street. I found myself praying that no cars drove by. Samael would be hard to explain with his violet hair, amethyst eyes, and glowing skin. The smell remained constant, neither increasing nor decreasing. It was obviously following us, step for step, and I knew that eventually, something would have to give. We couldn't play cat and mouse forever.
I wanted to ask Samael what the plan was, but at the rate we were moving, it was all I could do to keep up. We continued like that until we reached a more heavily used intersection and were forced back into the trees where Samael quickly resumed a glamour by removing a tiny vial from a small pouch tucked into his left boot. “What's the plan?” I asked him.
“There isn't one,” he snapped back at me, and I could tell he was highly agitated.
“Did I do something wrong?” I barked back, feeling stupid for initiating a fight in the middle of a crisis.
“Your magic is like a beacon,” he said, turning away from me and scanning the road again, sighing heavily. “Though I know you didn't do it on purpose.” Samael cast a quick glance over his shoulder. “Come on, we need to keep moving.”
And we did. For hours.
We ran all of the way back to the city and then skirted the busier edges of town until the smell began to lessen and finally, disappeared. I found myself stumbling, succumbing to the limitations of the glamour, and then collapsed near the Esperanza Family Funeral home. That we had ended up in that precise spot seemed to me to be just a horrible coincidence until Samael gestured me to follow him around back.
“What the fuck are we doing here?” I whispered as I staggered up a set of concrete stairs and watched Samael force open a locked door. “What about the family?” Samael regarded me carefully for a moment.
“They're dead,” he stated flatly and pushed his way into the dark house. I followed him, thinking of the soft smiles of the Esperanzas. They'd been so accommodating with Rachel's funeral. Now they were dead. Killed by M.E.T. because of me. I sighed and closed the door behind me, stumbling down a hallway and into a relatively untouched bedroom. The bed was still made, white comforter tucked in neatly around the edges, pillows fluffed. Samael held out his hand. “Rest, sweetness,” he told me softly. “You never know when you'll get another chance.”
I wanted to protest, to ask question
s, to understand everything that was happening, but I was tired and not just from running. Whatever I had done to the agnoble had sapped something essential out of me. Out of that place inside of me where magic had slept for so long, recently awakened. I felt like I had pulled a muscle. Tried to do the splits after years of bed rest. I crawled under the covers and slept.
CHAPTER TWENTY
BONE-REETHER
“A bone-reether is a type of fae rarely seen outside its native habitat: The Skull Gardens. Normally a member of the Unseelie court, the bone-reether is content to feast on dry, old carcasses left at the edges of its swamp. It is only during times of famine that they can become a problem. Watch for a shell, like that of a large sea turtle, and you will not be caught off guard when traversing the Places Between. A word of warning: Do Not Leave the Boat. If you do, even the telltale white of the bone-reether's back will not be enough to save you.”
“Can you please reason with your boyfriend?” Samael said, thrusting a cell phone at me. The fae prince had a freaking iPhone. I didn't even have a freaking iPhone. I took it gingerly in one hand, trying to force my sleepy, blistered fingers to curl around the black plastic. I hadn't told Samael I had broken up with Corey. It would probably make him happy, take that pinched look from his face and flush it down the toilet. I decided to save it for later, just in case.
“What?” I snapped, sounding tired and groggy and irritated.
“I'm not a slave to the fucking fae,” Corey ground out, matching my tones perfectly. A woman's voice sounded in the background along with a rustle of covers. I bristled and sat up, switching the phone to my other ear. It hadn't taken him long to get over me, apparently. Not that he needed that excuse to sleep with someone else; he'd been doing it all along.
“Who the fuck is that?” I asked and heard a slight intake of breath. Corey's voice softened.
“Does it matter, Georgette?” he said as a low moan drifted through the speaker. “You gave up, threw in the towel, all over some stupid fucking faerie.” Another moan. This time, it was his. I clenched my teeth together and avoided Samael's eyes. He could probably hear the conversation and if not, he could at least hear what I was thinking about it. Talk about a lack of privacy.
“You're going to blame this on me?” I asked, completely forgetting that Samael had called Corey for a reason that was undoubtedly more important than us fighting over a relationship that had ended. I just wish I knew what it was. Corey ignored me and groaned into the phone, heavy and hot. “Answer me you son of a bitch!” I yelled, adjusting my legs underneath a comforter that belonged to a dead person and not to me.
“If you want my help,” Corey said, voice breathy but harsh. “Then earn it.” I held the phone away from my ear and stared at the screen.
He'd hung up on me.
“We got disconnected,” I said casually, tossing the phone back to Samael. He caught it in one hand, and in a motion that was too quick for me to follow, it was gone.
“I see,” he said, eyes sparkling. I frowned at him.
“That had nothing to do with you,” I said. Samael's brows rose questioningly as he pushed himself off of the bed and stood up, turning to face me. “I – it … ” Words failed me. This is great. This is just great, Georgette. Why don't you just throw yourself at him and get it over with? “It was about Amadan,” I said casually. “And it wasn't just about the sex; Corey knows that I'm into him.” Before Samael even had a chance to frown, there he was, the Devil himself, standing in the doorway, stark naked. And not in his body either, he was still in mine.
“That's unfortunate for you,” he said blandly, in my best I-don't-give-a-shit-about-anything voice. “I don't envy you your position.” I watched as my eyes, my lips, turned to face Samael's frown. This wasn't the last I was going to hear about that apparent social gaffe, just a gentle reprieve. “It seems as if things haven't gone quite as you planned, Your Lordship.”
Samael chose to ignore the insolence in Amadan's voice and instead focused on the problem at hand.
“I had expected to be in Faerie by now … ” Samael began, his voice trailing off as his gaze locked onto a family portrait. Six smiles flashed back at me, six smiles that the world would never see again. I felt a harsh pang in my chest, like it was suddenly impossible to breathe. I flung my feet out of bed and tried to run my hands over my face. The swollen blisters stopped me, drawing my eyes to the red limned circles, angry and filled with fluid. They still hurt which was good in a way; they weren't third degree burns. But still …
“Um … ” Two sets of eyes swung towards me. “Anyone have an extra glamour on them?” Samael's face creased with concern, and he shook his head. Amadan stood still, his borrowed face frozen in a joyless mask, and remained silent. I was going to take that as a no.
“What happened?” I asked, directing the question at both of the fae although I had no way of knowing how much Amadan knew. I needed to find out about my mother, but I was guessing that could wait. If she were dead, he would have told me.
“Your magic … ” Samael began, face clouding with worry. “Our magic,” he corrected himself. “Is unstable, and you, untrained. Your thoughts, your intentions were enough to kill him although … ” He trailed off again, but his expression had shifted to something lighter, almost amused. “I've never seen that particular spell before.” I stared at him.
“I cast a spell by thinking,” I gasped, fighting the urge to run my ruined hands through my hair. After this conversation, I was going to go through the Esperanza's bathroom for burn ointment. What I had just done, supposedly, was almost unheard of, as far as I knew. According to Corey and his journals, which were thus far my only sources of information on magic and the fae, hand gestures, words, and tokens were almost always needed to cast something. Even the fae queens hadn't been able to do it with a thought. I shook my head. “You have to be joking.” Samael frowned and I wished I hadn't spoken. You like to see that sparkle in his eyes, that joy in his lips. I ignored myself.
“You are the Queen of the Drifting Anam. It's only a surprise to you.” New term, same meaning, I got it. I was the Queen of the third house of faerie. Right. I ignored him.
“Will it always work that way?” Samael shook his head.
“I wouldn't count on it just yet,” he said. “As we're sharing a pool of power, and you aren't quite ready to learn how to monitor the levels.” I nodded, although I wasn't certain I understood. Amadan, perhaps annoyed at being left out of the conversation, spoke next.
“Your mother makes me wish I had given myself up to Gadrael a long while ago.” I bit my lip.
“That bad?” I didn't ask about the dogs or the bullets or my sister. Didn't want to know. If they were safe, that was enough for me.
“The hounds were quite successful with the Mandatory Eradication Team,” Amadan said, switching to English for the last three words. “But when I sensed Gadrael,” he cast a glance at Samael. “I moved her to a safer location.” My blood chilled.
“Where?” I asked, suddenly suspicious. Amadan's lips, my lips, pulled back from my gums, stretched towards my ears in a way that was anatomically impossible.
“I took her to Corey's.” I groaned and doubled over. My mother and Corey did not mix. My mother and a house full of secrets did not mix. She was nosy; it was only a matter of time until she found something she shouldn't. What was I going to do then? “Are you not going then?” Amadan continued. “May I change back?” He stared down at me, the whites of his eyes flashing like diamonds. “Because although I have enjoyed this body … ” His hands slithered down the smoothness of his borrowed belly before Samael grasped his wrist. Amadan licked his lips lasciviously, and I wrinkled my nose.
“For now,” Samael said, dropping Amadan's arm. “You may because we can't have two Georgettes running around, but only until we convince the fucking necromancer to help us. With Georgette and Corey no longer romantically involved – ” I sighed. Of course he had heard. Of course. Amadan's grin shifted into a naught
y smile. I ignored him. “It will be more difficult. He's powerful, and I don't want to piss him off.”
Amadan took a deep breath and stuck the nail of his thumb between his lips. His face contorted painfully as his head swelled like a balloon and exploded outward with a rush of warmth and a flash of color, like a handful of party streamers. When I blinked, my image was gone and he was back to normal, still naked and happy.
“Wow,” I said, thoroughly impressed. Not at his erection though, just the spell.
Don't be, Samael thought at me as his lips twisted into a wry smile and Amadan stole an ivory clip from the dresser. It's just a bunch of pomp and circumstance.
“There I was, prepared to die for you, and the two of you talk about me behind my back. Tsk-tsk.”
“Don't worry, sweetness,” Samael continued, head cocked to the side. “He can't really hear us. It's not one of his talents.”
“Not one of my many talents.”
“He can only do it with my help.”
They stared at one another and the air was infused with a sudden tension. I slapped my hands on my thighs and stood up, suddenly eager to be out and away from this place. The bodies had to be around here somewhere, and I really, really didn't want to see them.
“Can we go back to Corey's then?” I asked. I realized that I hadn't said 'home.' It wasn't home anymore, not really. Home is where the heart is and at the moment, mine was lost. I didn't know where home was. “Is it safe? If Gadrael is here … ”
“We can go,” Samael said, turning and stepping over to the window. He lifted the curtain and looked out. “That still wasn't him, not fully, not in the flesh. But it was a more powerful reaver. He's getting stronger, smarter. He's getting ready.”
I didn't need to ask what he was getting ready for because I knew we were doing the same thing.
We were getting ready for war.
Speaking of war, I nearly found myself in the middle of one when I opened the front door to the house.
Gray and Graves: A Dark Fae Menage Urban Fantasy (The Three Courts of Faerie Book 1) Page 23
