Feversong

“A human just hacked off your wings and sealed you in a cocoon from which you would never have escaped; a human that’s far more powerful than you, and clearly doesn’t like you. When she learns you’ve been freed, do you think she’ll just forget about you?”

  “Royals regenerate and that was no human. Your precious MacKayla is gone. What remains will never be human again.”

  Mac wasn’t gone. Barrons had felt her. That was enough for Jada. “So long as I wear the cuff, we’re going to be closer than either of us like, and I have the weapon that can terminate your immortal existence.”

  “I am a weapon that can terminate your mortal existence.”

  “Like I said, impasse. Bottom line: we can kill each other or work together against our common enemy. Negotiate. What do you want? I have my list ready.”

  “I want my cuff back.”

  “Not on the table.”

  Snarling, Cruce lunged but swiftly checked himself.

  “I’ve got the advantage. Accept that and quit wasting my time. Mac is a problem for both of us. If you have knowledge from the Book, you may know something we can use to get her back.”

  “There is no getting her back from that. That was not MacKayla. Nor was it the Book, at least not the one I touched. That was…”

  “What?” Jada demanded.

  “A sense of superiority that exceeds even mine, and I would not have believed that possible. It felt contempt for me. To the Book, I was as foul an aberration as a…a human. It is depravity, viciousness, sadism, and hunger for absolute dominance. Fae but unlike any I have ever encountered. It changed.”

  “And we’re going to change it back,” Jada said evenly. “If it takes you again, and I suspect it will, we won’t free you next time. We’ll leave you like that. You need us. If I were you, I’d make us need you for something.” She paused a moment then probed, “This cuff protects the wearer from many things, Unseelie and otherwise. That includes you, doesn’t it?” She’d been able to meet his gaze as both V’lane and Cruce without her eyes bleeding, and seriously doubted he was willingly muting himself.

  The sudden flash of ire in his iridescent gaze was all the answer she needed. She smiled faintly. “You couldn’t make it work against the other princes, without also protecting the wearer against yourself.”

  “I may not be able to harm you but I can sift you to a fire world, sidhe-seer.”

  “Where you’ll die, too. I’m fast enough to take you out as I go. I want the knowledge you took from the Sinsar Dubh. I want you to tell me everything.”

  “I want MacKayla dead. She can be killed in her current form.”

  “That’s not on the table either.”

  “Then we have nothing to negotiate.” He sifted out.

  “Cruce,” she murmured, and he was instantly back, face taut with rage.

  Abruptly, she was in arctic wasteland, with a bone-chilling wind knifing through her. Her leather jacket froze solid and crackled when she slid up into the slipstream. Vibrating, moving in that higher dimension, she was no longer quite so cold.

  And the tip of her sword was at Cruce’s heart.

  He flashed her through a dizzying array of hostile landscapes, testing how quickly she could get to him.

  She waited for him to tire. He would never take her to a fire world that would force her hand. He was too in love with his own immortal existence to invite death.

  At last they were back on the beach.

  Coolly, she peeled open a protein bar and ate it slowly, despite the desire to wolf it down in two bites to compensate for the energy she’d just expended. She was pleased to see that beneath his glamour he, too, was suffering from the exertion, far paler than before.

  “My my, how you have changed, little girl,” he mocked. “I recall you, human. Still brash, not so gangly.” His eyes narrowed to slits of glittering fire. “Not gangly at all.”

  “You’ve changed as well.” In her past encounters with V’lane, the prince had always been flirtatious yet solicitous, well-spoken yet feigned ignorance of many human ways. With Cruce, all pretenses were gone. Here was the brilliant dark prince who’d plotted and planned for eons, icy, focused, ruthless. V’lane was a seducer, Cruce a conqueror.

  “I want the Book rendered inert. I want protection until it is.”

  “Accepted. You will wear a glamour that shields humans from your sexual thrall, until the goals we agree to pursue are achieved.”

  He inclined his head. “As you will. I rule the Fae court. As of this moment.”

  “You’ll have to confirm with Barrons. I’m not opposed to it, if you remove them from our planet immediately.”

  “This is our planet and here we will remain.”

  She’d expected the rebuff; it was one of her planned concessions. “I want your full assistance rebuilding the walls between our worlds.”

  His eyes shimmered with sudden interest. “I will aid you in reclaiming the Song of Making.”

  “From a distance and with only superficial knowledge of it,” she stipulated. This would be an ongoing war in which keeping the enemy close was the only way to win it.

  He laughed and the sound was a symphony of dark crystals chiming. “Not possible and you know it. You cannot invite me in yet bar the door. Working together entails risks for all of us, sidhe-seer.”

  “You’ll cooperate fully with the needs we have on a daily basis; sifting, helping us complete tasks we deem necessary. That means no wasting time with ego or arguing.”

  He said disdainfully, “Demand the same of Barrons.”

  “I won’t have to. Time isn’t one of our luxuries and he knows that.”

  “You will return my cuff to me when our common goals have been met.”

  “In exchange for a final service.”

  “What service?”

  “A small thing that will cost you nothing. Then I’ll return it.”

  His head swiveled in an entirely inhuman way and his eyes cooled to iridescent ice. “For all of this I have only your word.”

  “Ditto,” she said.

  “As of this moment, I am my race’s king and all will recognize me as such. My rule is undisputed. Even your bastard Highlander prince will pledge his fealty to me. Barrons and his kind will acknowledge my reign and kneel before me.”

  She snorted. “I have serious doubts about the fealty and kneeling parts. As of this moment you’ll order your race to stop killing humans.”

  “Not on the table. My brethren were locked away with nothing for too long. I will not subject them to starvation again. The status quo remains as it is. Nothing changes with the exception of us working toward the common goals of destroying the Sinsar Dubh—”

  “Containing it and saving Mac.”

  “—and restoring the song to my race.”

  Her hand tightened on the hilt of her sword.

  His gaze moved between her eyes and hand and he sneered. “When our goals are met, my race will stop killing humans on your planet. But no sooner.”

  She knew why. “Because with the song, you could go anywhere, conquer any world.”

  “Restored to our former glory, we will find a more…hospitable place.”

  “You mean a world easier to victimize.”

  “We are not monsters. Had my brethren not been imprisoned for eons, their needs would not be so great. Who can say—perhaps they would have become like the fairy court, in appearance and temperament.”

  “And that’s such an improvement,” Jada mocked.

  He bristled and she could almost hear the rustling of enormous, nonexistent wings. “You will treat me and my race with respect.”

  “We’ll treat you and your race precisely as you treat ours.” It was the way of the world; leaders pulling together for a tenuous peace while their factions continued to war. “Agreed?”

  “Until our aim is achieved and not one moment more, we are agreed. If you wish to continue an association at that point, it will be subject to new stipulations.”

  “Fair enou
gh. Return us to the abbey.”

  “As you wish,” he said, with frost-filled, dangerous eyes.

  Back at the abbey, Jada apprised Barrons and Fade of the agreement she’d struck with Cruce, stressing the necessity of working together quickly and without contention. “You can kill each other when this is over, but until that time we’re allies who’ve shelved animosity in the interest of rescuing Mac and fixing the black holes. If any of you have a problem with that—leave.”

  No one moved.

  She turned to Barrons. “I know the bookstore is heavily warded. Can the Sinsar Dubh enter it?”

  “On its own, no. Rowena carried it in when she was possessed by it. I’d not warded the store against the old woman. Mac’s ability to enter remains to be seen.”

  “Speculate.”

  “The old bitch was human, possessed by a Book.”

  “That’s exactly what Mac is,” Jada pointed out.

  “I felt her and disagree.”

  “What did you feel?” She wished she had his atavistic senses!

  “Irrelevant. Move on.”

  “It’s not ir—” she began hotly, but terminated it swiftly. Now was not the time. She glanced at Cruce. “Begin sifting the injured sidhe-seers to the alley behind the bookstore.”

  Cruce hissed, “I will not sift sidhe-seers—”

  Barrons made a rattling sound deep in his chest. “You are not filling my store—”

  “What part of ‘quickly and without contention’ did I fail to make clear?” Jada said coolly. “Do you have a better idea, Barrons? Is Chester’s protected against the Sinsar Dubh? If so, take the sidhe-seers there. The Book has obviously been here and may still be. We must transport my women to safety.”

  “Who put her in charge?” Fade growled at Barrons. “Did you agree to this?”

  “I’m not in charge,” Jada said evenly. Their egos required delicate handling. “I’m doing damage control. We’re all in charge. The issue at hand happens to be the lives of my women.”

  Barrons narrowed his eyes and stared at her a long moment in silence. Then he inclined his dark head. “You heard what Jada said. Move the sidhe-seers. But to Chester’s not my bookstore.”

  “When she has informed her women of the truce,” Cruce stipulated. “One of them has the spear. Only when she no longer does will I move them.”

  “I’ll tell Enyo you’re off limits,” Jada said. “She’ll obey me.”

  “I place no faith in the faith you place in humans, human. Reclaim the spear.”

  “Fade,” Barrons growled, “guard Cruce until Jada and I have prepared the sidhe-seers.” He turned and stalked off toward the entrance of the abbey.

  Jada loped to catch up. “Thank you for supporting me.” Focusing on the abbey entry, she swiftly accessed the slipstream.

  Only to be yanked violently back down by Barrons.

  “I don’t,” he snarled. “Like everyone else’s, your objectives are emotional, flawed, and in the wrong fucking order.”

  She snatched her arm from his steely grip. “My objectives are not—”

  “Save the sidhe-seers?” he mocked. “If we pull out, we leave the abbey grounds unprotected. You must be willing to sacrifice anything no matter how it affects you emotionally to gain a single thing—the four stones that can contain the Sinsar Dubh. They’re in the rubble somewhere, aren’t they?”

  She nodded tightly.

  “Tell me where, and don’t bloody point because Cruce is standing right behind us.”

  “I stored them in a safe in the sitting room off the Dragon Lady’s Library.” She told him the location as best she could without gesturing in the direction of the rubble to search.

  “Only once we have them do we yield this place and attend the needs of the weaker. To be a protector, you can’t think like a protector. You must always think like a conqueror first. It costs. Blood and soul.”

  Jada muttered a string of curses. He was right; the priority was the stones and she’d not given one thought to them. They were the only hope they had of containing the Sinsar Dubh and buying time to figure out how to get Mac back. Yet the first thing on her mind had been the survival of others. Perhaps the Book had come here to kill the princes, but most likely it had come to claim the only thing capable of containing it, yet had been unable to resist mowing down its enemies along the way. Its delay was their advantage. “Is Chester’s secure?”

  “Enough. Parts. Occupy Cruce relocating the women. I’ll search for the stones and return to Dublin when I have them. Mention nothing of this to the fairy.”

  “And if you run into Mac?”

  He flashed her a savage smile. “I intend to.”

  “Barrons, you don’t know what she’s like. You weren’t in the warehouse. You didn’t feel what she’s become.”

  “I’ll take my chances.”

  “But—”

  “Enough. Go. Now.”

  Shaking her head, she turned to leave. He called after her, “Cruce doesn’t know the stones are here and is interested only in securing his own safety and protection—at the moment. What the Book did to him screwed with his head but it will clear. Keep him distracted, act fast and stay alert. The dogs of war don’t negotiate. They deceive, awaiting a more prime opportunity to attack. If he thought he could seize all four stones, he would. They could contain him, too. He’ll covet them every bit as much as the Book does.”

  Jada nodded grimly and kicked up into the slipstream.

  Then he was there beside her in her sacred place, she could feel him near, though she saw nothing but a starry tunnel. She was chafed to realize it was because he was moving slightly faster than her. She couldn’t help herself. “Barrons, you’ve got to teach me how to do that!”

  His words buzzed softly and seemed to come from a distance. “Help me get Mac back and fix our world, and if Ryodan won’t, I will.”

  Chills kissed her skin because Barrons was a man of his word, and once she’d have considered chewing her own hand off to be able to move as fast as Ry—them.

  “Last night was a bitch, kid, but you pulled it together. Ryodan was right. You’ve become one hell of a woman.”

  Somehow, it didn’t irritate her that he’d called her kid. It was as if his words had been a nod to both Dani and Jada and it felt good. Dani was her foundation. Jada was her fortress. Both were her. Both essential.

  Then Barrons was gone.

  Humans are worthless. Weak.

  As is their flesh.

  Killing Jo was satisfying but she tastes unpleasant and eating her provides no nourishment. My energy is flagging.

  The single time I’d seized control of MacKayla’s body in the past, I’d ridden it hard for hours, but my tenuous hold had grown progressively weaker. For no reason I’d been able to discern, I lost control of the vessel and it slumped to the pavement. MacKayla had perceived the passage of time as a complete blackout. I was cognizant for the entire duration; in control one moment, controlled the next.

  Still, from that day, my supremacy was assured. Losing dominance of her body to me had frayed the threads of her already damaged confidence. I’d ceased my efforts to conquer and begun to seduce, silently lending my power to fuel her wishes, turning her invisible, using my darkest magic to bring her dead sister, Alina, back to life, nudging here and there to undermine, creating sinkholes, poisoning the soil, sowing doubts in the garden of her mind.

  NEVER LET ANYONE ELSE INTO YOUR GARDEN. WE HOE OUT THE CROPS AND SEED IN WEEDS—ALL THE WHILE TELLING YOU HOW BEAUTIFUL OUR WEEDS ARE, THAT, IN FACT, THEY’RE NOT WEEDS AT ALL, AND YOU’RE SO LUCKY TO HAVE THEM—UNTIL YOU’RE NO LONGER CERTAIN WHAT A WEED EVEN IS.

  Imbeciles. Wretches. That’s how we win. Don’t turn over the fucking keys to your kingdom then cry foul play when you get evicted. Once you let us confuse you with enough lies that you no longer know your truth, we own your reality. AND YOU GAVE IT TO US.

  As I push to my feet, I stumble and go back down. Snarling, I shove my hair from my fac
e and rest a moment more, considering my next move. My muscles burn from exertion. Pain is a new sensation, distracting, infuriating. It’s an insult that I was born so flawed. My jaws hurt from tearing flesh and there’s a painful bone splinter lodged in my gums.

  I pick it out with the tip of one of my knives. I came to the abbey to accomplish three goals: kill Christian, kill Cruce, and find the stones. Events have not unfolded as I’d intended. The Unseelie flesh I ate isn’t fueling me as it did MacKayla. I’m burning through it too fast and require more. It doesn’t help that my body hasn’t slept in over a day. The loss of my spear grandly fucked my plans. By this hour, both princes should have been dead.

  I expand my awareness, seeking the stones, which MacKayla was certain were somewhere in the abbey.

  I sense nothing.

  Might they have been moved? I assess possibilities and encounter an obstacle of my own making. In my quest for strength, I ate Unseelie, which mutes MacKayla’s ability to sense Fae objects of power. LIMITS! YET MORE LIMITS TO REMEMBER! I must dally until it wears off or go to ground, rest then gather my army, seize the stones, destroy them, and move to the next phase of my plans. I consider summoning an army of Unseelie, resuming the battle on the abbey grounds while still more of them search the ruins for me, but MacKayla would call the stones my Kryptonite, and I’ll not unearth them into untrusted hands.

  Might I simply forget them? It occurs to me that two out of three aren’t bad: the cocoons I’ve put the princes in, while not as much fun as killing them will be, are sufficient.

  Paramount to my plans is the spear. I refine my goals, making it my priority.

  I push myself up from the bloody remains of Jo in which I squat, becoming aware of eyes on me. I can feel them. Someone is watching me. Is it my clever, clever enemy? How is someone anticipating me? There is no one with my clarity, my focus, my resolve.

  I stand motionless, curious to know the face of my foe.

  Jericho Barrons steps from behind a tumbled wall.

  For a moment I stare, consumed by jealousy. I had to be born a fucking woman in a world where men are physically superior. Christian. Cruce. Now Barrons. He exudes ferocity, power, hunger, his presence saturates the air with palpable, electrifying energy. Even the Fae fear him. Shades slink away when he passes. He has killed Fae royals—sifters! His vessel is wide-shouldered, big-boned, muscled and powerful as a lion. Undestroyable. I despise him for it.