Brush of Darkness (10 page)

“Hey there, Sparky.” Robert’s voice drawled out the
r
s,
so it came across as “Spahhky.” I liked the way it sounded, despite the usual hostility that lingered beneath. There was a dangerous lilt to it tonight, and I struggled not to wipe my suddenly damp hands on my pants.

“Robert.” I smiled, taking another sip of my drink to mask my apprehension. As far as angels go, I suppose he was fairly typical—blond, blue eyed, broad shouldered, and well muscled. He tended to dress casually, and tonight was no exception. He cut a nice figure in his button-flys and Sean John shirt. And wings. Huge-ass, glossy white wings that stretched nearly all the way to the ground. At the moment they were neatly arched and partially folded. If they were mine I would have been worried someone might step on them, but Robert gave off an aura of “don’t touch” that apparently translated between realms. Of course, the fact that he had full authority from Moira to smite anything he damn well pleased probably had a lot to do with it.

“Charlie tells me there’s an . . .” He paused, the words crisp and specific. “An issue.”

I swallowed another mouthful of Mudslide, squirming beneath the sharpness of his gaze. “I don’t know if it’s really an
issue
. Moira just didn’t tell me when she was coming back.” I struggled to keep my smile. “Honestly, I just thought it was something she did.”

“Ah well, sure. And she does disappear from time to time, usually to take care of things in Faery, but she’s always been good about letting me know beforehand. This is worrisome.” He chugged his beer and fixed his jewel-bright eyes on me again. “You say you haven’t heard from her at all?”

I pulled the piece of parchment from my purse and slid it over to him. “Just this note. But she didn’t mention anything about telling you or if she was in trouble. I’m sorry. I thought you knew.”

“Hold
back
the fort?” He snorted. “The Fae never get
anything right.” His sizable bulk pressed across the table and his voice dropped low. “I don’t like it. This whole thing just stinks, especially given what happened with her last TouchStone.”

Charlie nudged him with her elbow. “Bobby,” she hissed. “You don’t need to get into that.”

A cold shiver ran down my spine at her words. I wasn’t completely ignorant of the situation, but I’d never gotten a straight answer from anyone on it. “Get into what? What happened with her last TouchStone?”

Charlie raked a steely gaze over the angel, and he had the good sense to hastily resume nursing his beer. I swallowed a laugh. That had been a “no nookie tonight” look if I’d ever seen one. She sipped her Cosmopolitan before glancing over at me. A typical stalling tactic and we both knew it. “We don’t know, actually. He’d been with Moira for years. They were really close.” Her eyes darted toward the angel. “Like us.”

Lovers.

“A permanent Contract?” I raised my brows. “I didn’t think Moira was the type. Besides, she damn near bit my head off when she found out about my little . . . indiscretion with Jett. Why would she get involved with her TouchStone?”

The angel snorted, sliding his empty bottle toward the center of the table. “Hypocrites, the lot of them. There’s not a damn Faery in the world that doesn’t talk sideways out of their mouth; Moira is no exception. Don’t get me wrong”—he held up a hand as I started to bristle—“she’s been a great Protectorate, but she’s as flighty as the rest of them. As far as what happened to Maurice . . .” He shrugged. “Nobody knows. One day they were as thick as thieves and the next . . . gone.”

“We always figured it was some sort of lovers’ quarrel,
but we never dreamed she’d break the Contract.” Charlie bit her lip. “It was the eight-hundred-pound gorilla in the room, Abby. He’d been with her for
years
. And the next thing we knew, you showed up and . . . well, you didn’t really seem to know anything at all. We didn’t know what to think.”

I focused on the MudSlide resting between my knees; Brystion’s words to me about my ignorance the night before were suddenly becoming clear. “And I’m just a straw horse, is that it? A shadow replacement for the status quo?” The words rang hollow in my mouth, the bitter truth leaving an aftertaste of shame and bile.

“That’s not it, Abby, but even you have to admit things don’t add up. Why would she replace such a loyal companion with . . . well, you? You’re perfectly lovely, but if she was going to be gone for such an extended period, she probably should have had a TouchStone with more experience.”

“I didn’t ask for this,” I reminded them, ignoring the dagger slice of betrayal that lanced through my gut. “I didn’t know what I was getting into when I signed the Contract. I didn’t even know what a TouchStone
was,
let alone what the duty entailed. And I sure as fuck didn’t think I’d be stuck doing it all alone.”

“I know.” Charlie reached out to squeeze my arm. “Unfortunately, declaring ignorance isn’t going to help right now. We didn’t realize she had left you without any resources.”

Robert’s head snapped toward me. “You’ve been running the Marketplace by yourself all this time?”

“Well, it’s not like there’s anyone else lining up for the job, now is there?” I retorted.

“You should have come to us. To
me
.” His hand slammed on the table, the empty bottle tipping on its side. “That’s what I’m here for.”

I bared my teeth at him and then bit down hard on the
straw. “Really? Because somehow I don’t see you stooping to scrub the hoof prints off the hardwood floor of the Marketplace.”

He shot me a piercing look, ignoring my last comment. “I’m going to have to insist that you curb your activities for a while until we can see about getting you some kind of bodyguard.”

“What if I don’t want to?” I frowned at him. “I’m not some kind of child; this is my life too, you know.”

“You’re our last link to Moira,” he said. “I don’t know what happens if something happens to you.”

Charlie reached out and gently stroked his arm. “We’ll figure it out. You know we will.” Her eyes were full of sympathy and pride, gentle with sorrow.

I could only nod, turning away as my senses reeled with this latest impact. Apparently I was responsible not only for the existence of my TouchStone mistress, but for that of everyone else attached to her. “What do you know about unicorns?” I asked randomly.

“Unicorns are from the Light Path. They can’t be corrupted.” The angel shifted, leaning across the table, as I struggled not to let out a bark of laughter.

“Oh the humanity,” I muttered. “Listen, I really think we should take—” My words were cut off, drowned by the strum of an electric guitar wailing over the speakers. All attention snapped toward the stage, suddenly gone dark as the houselights dimmed. A spotlight pointed at the center, its silver light pooling over the scuffed dance floor, shining off the condensation on my glass.

Melanie appeared, pushing back a few damp strands of hair from her forehead. She smiled, her teeth glinting, as she stared out into the crowd. I felt a twinge of homesickness, watching her. My heart ached, remembering how it felt to be the core interest of a venue, the way the lights partially
blinded you, but you didn’t care because you knew you were the reason they were there.

She curtsied at the wave of catcalls and cleared her throat, tapping the microphone with her violin bow. “Ladies and gents, mortal and Other, I have the distinct pleasure of introducing an old favorite, in his first performance since Ion’s Folly disbanded.” There was a murmur of excitement at this, a rumbling wave of anticipation.

Robert snorted next to me. “Tool.”

“Hush,” Charlie hissed, elbowing him in the shoulder. The angel’s face hardened, and he crossed his arms. I missed whatever else Melanie said in the little exchange, but it didn’t really matter because in the next instant the lights flooded the stage as Brystion appeared to a screaming wave of applause.

The incubus basked in it, a sly smile on his face. He clearly nodded to a few patrons, resulting in definite female voices squealing out his name. “What’s the big deal?” I shouted to Charlie over the din.

She shook her head and pulled at her ears. “Wait,” she mouthed, pointing back at the stage. I looked back at Robert, but the angel had gone sulky, his brows furrowed.

And then the music started and I held my breath for a moment as the incubus took the microphone. The rest of the band was reduced to nothing more than silhouetted shadows behind him. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but the voice that poured out of him wasn’t it. The low, seductive sweep of notes pressed its way through the Hallows, echoed in the pulsing rhythm of my heart. My stomach was full of butterflies, hot and nervous, and I leaned forward despite myself. Around me, the subtle pull grew stronger. A quick glance showed the effect wasn’t solely on me. Even Charlie looked vaguely uncomfortable, shifting in her seat to recross her legs.

Brystion smirked as his gaze swept over the crowd, his fingers drifting over the mic.

“
This bed is on fire with passionate love . . .”

I snorted. Leave it to an incubus to sing “Laid.” I blinked as our eyes met, watched the flare of gold ring around his pupils. The sounds dropped away and for a moment it was just the two of us in the dark. My arms wrapped around my shoulders instinctively, as if he could see my nakedness, wondering if the same longing was written on my face. My vision went smoky, hazy, blurring in the sudden rush of bodies as they swayed around me.

Blinking rapidly, I shook my head, wrenching my attention back to Charlie and Robert. “Is it even worth trying to discuss any more of this?” I leaned toward her, my words nearly lost in the din. My chair rocked and I ducked as a . . . Viking? No, a Valkyrie pranced by, her muscular frame shoveling me out of the way in her hurry to get to the dance floor.

“I’m not sure there’s much else to talk about.” Robert snapped out a wing, startling an elven waitress into nearly spilling her drink. “I’ll put out some feelers and see if Moira’s gone back to Faery. It could be as simple as Court politics.”

“Maybe.”

His eyes gleamed unpleasantly, and I knew we both suspected it wouldn’t be that easy. “In the meantime, I’d like you to report anything else untoward. I’m counting on you for this, Abby.”

Charlie coughed low in her throat, her gaze dipping toward the incubus onstage for a moment. “Yeah,” I muttered. I knew I could be dense, but Charlie was about as subtle as a brick through a window sometimes.

The tempo of the music had changed and I glanced behind me, watching as Brystion gyrated onstage to Led
Zeppelin’s “The Lemon Song,” his hand cupping the microphone suggestively. I didn’t know why I didn’t want to talk to Robert about the incubus—it was stupid not to. And yet my mouth wouldn’t open. “I think I’m gonna go,” I said finally, ignoring Charlie’s stare.

My eyes met Brystion’s again, and I couldn’t help giving him a little nod. One dark brow rose in return, and the music changed again. It became darker, slower. The song beat at my brain, but not in words I could recognize.

I stood up, every heartbeat urging me to step toward him, make my way to the dance floor and submit to his will, to drown in the ocean of flesh writhing beneath his mien. I took a step and felt a cool grasp on my wrist. I looked down, trying to shake it off. It was Robert. He said something that sounded like my name, but it didn’t matter. All I wanted was . . . there. On the stage, all graceful limbs and muscled torso, gyrating to the beat of the drums. My hips swung wide in answer.

Yes . . .

“No,” I whispered, and moved toward the dance floor. I brushed by the other dancers, limbs moving in a remembered grace. If the crowd parted before me, I didn’t question it, no more than I questioned the way the incubus seemed to uncoil off the stage, oozing down the steps.

Melanie’s mouth quirked at me and then she shrugged, her head inclining toward the guitarist who immediately began an extended solo.

My hand drifted forward, an explosion of heat rocketing up my arm when Brystion captured it. And then I was spinning as he turned me out and drew me back, his golden eyes blazing. I pulled away, uncertain. Something didn’t seem quite right, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to stop. “What are you doing?” I murmured.

“Dancing.” Amusement flickered across his face as he
pressed his hips tightly against mine.

“Well, yes, I can see that. But why?”

“Why not?” When I only stared at him, he shook his head and lowered his mouth to my ear. “Because you looked like you wanted to.”

Before I could answer this, glass shattered as a bottle slammed on top of the bar. I blinked, realized we were standing alone in the center of the dance floor, with the music gone and Brystion’s arm paused mid-twirl.

What the hell? I glanced at him and then toward the bar, startled to see a snarling Brandon emerge toward us, his hackles raised.

“I’ll fucking kill him.” Robert’s voice came as though from a distance, muffled and heated. I inhaled slowly, risking a quick glance behind me. The angel pushed through the crowd, his wings outspread, even as Brystion slowly moved in front of me.

“Not in here,” the werewolf rumbled. “You know the rules. No fighting in my bar.” His canines gleamed in the reflection of the bottle in his hand. “The only one who gets to break heads around here is me.”

The angel and the incubus ignored him, circling slowly in a systematic sizing up. It was like watching dogs made of dynamite sniff each other’s backsides, and I could only wonder who was holding the match. Brystion’s eyes had gone dark again, his pose suddenly relaxed as though he knew something. Judging by Robert’s posture, the angel knew it too, the stiffness in his shoulders broadcasting his displeasure.

Brandon turned toward me, the unwritten message plain. His bar, yes, but this was Moira’s bodyguard and her domain. This needed to stop, and now. And apparently I had to do it. I tugged on the angel’s shirt. “Robert. It’s all right.”

“No, Abby,” he snarled back. “It’s really not. And this
little shit knows it.”

Brystion snorted. “I’ve done nothing that isn’t within my rights. Run along now, angel, and see if you can’t find the head of a pin to dance on. I hear the jury is still out on just how many of you can do the Electric Slide without falling off.”