Brush of Darkness (38 page)

Dirt caked on my mouth, spit and snot and blood from where I was biting my lips. He laced the other hand through my hair, yanking my head back, exposing my throat. He caressed it gently, and then paused. “Mine,” he snarled, my head snapping back farther as he pulled.

“No!” I screamed.

There was a howling cry of anguish beside me. I recoiled, looking back at the daemonic golden eyes, scratching my hands across the black skin as the nightmare dissolved. “Let me go, let me go!”

His fingers were like iron around my wrist, fury dancing over his face. I blinked and realized we were alone. The sharks were gone. The water was gone. The tail was gone. Just the two of us, naked and alone in the darkness. There was nothing left of his daemonic body—the fur, the hooves—everything was familiar, all pale skin, aching beauty, and haunted eyes.

“No.” His muscles quivered beneath my fingers. I couldn’t see him in the blackness, but his arms shook. “I will
not
be party to this,” he snarled. “Is that how you see me? An animal? A rapist?” His voice lowered, raspy and hurt. “I have never given you a reason to think of me that way.”

He shoved me away and we stood there, his eyes dark and ice cold. Sobbing, I wrapped my arms over my chest in a useless measure of modesty. “You used me,” I whispered, my stomach burning. I pressed one hand over the wound. “You lied to me. You were going to—”

“Is that what you think?” His face bunched in contempt. “You’re a Dreamer, Abby. Your nightmares—your
dreams
—are your
own
doing.” He gestured at the darkness. “Even now, I guard you from them.”

“I hardly think
that
constitutes guarding,” I said, my voice strangled. I rubbed my neck, touching the swollen marks.

“Why do you think the sharks didn’t attack you when you swam to me?” His eyes narrowed.

“What the fuck do you call what just pulled me off the ship?” I sank to my knees, my legs giving out at last. He looked at me dispassionately, not even a twitch to show any concern.

“That one—that last one—didn’t get created until you saw me, touched me.” His words were full of scorn, his voice one of contempt. “And you wonder why I wasn’t eager to show you what I am.” He shook his head, a ring of
finality to his words. “So be it.” His nostrils flared. “I gave it all for you, Abby. I let that fucker Maurice take all of it, to save your life. I let him
use
me, and still I came for you.”

Shame flooded my heart. I peered up at him through dirty fingers, flinching beneath the ice. A gleam of silver flared behind him. “Ion,” I whimpered, one hand reaching out for him. My fingertips nearly brushed the fine hairs dusting his pale muscles, but he sidestepped me at the last moment.

“If you ever touch me again, I’ll kill you.”

He gestured at the newly formed Door with a graceful hand. “Melanie has made us a way out. I suggest you take it before you bleed to death.”

I glanced down and saw that I was still oozing. I staggered to my feet, my calves shaking. “I’d carry you, of course, but I’m rather through with that.” He gestured at the door again. “Go on. I’ll see myself out.”

My hands rose over my mouth, my vision a hazy blur of tears as I did what he’d always accused me of doing. I fled through the Door without looking back.

I was warm, wonderfully warm wrapped in sheets and comfort. There was a purring sound beside me, coaxing me forward.

“There now, that’s better.” The purring stopped, and I felt something soft tickling my chin and nuzzling my cheek. “Ah, damn . . . she’s crying again. Wake up, Abby.”

I blinked, realizing the unicorn was right. Tears were rolling from beneath my lashes. I gave a shuddering sob, my fingers wiping gently at my temples. With effort, I opened my eyes.

I was in a bed—my bed. I went to sit up, grunting at the sudden spike of pain. “Don’t move, Abby. You’re still wounded.” My hand traced down my breastbone, as
I numbly pulled back the sheets, noted the stiff bandages around my abdomen.

I slumped, propping my head on the pillow with a hollow sigh. “How long?” My voice was hoarse with disuse. There was an uncomfortable silence. “How long?”

“Two weeks,” he murmured. “Melanie wanted to take you to the hospital, but the blade that injured you was magical and needed an elvish Healer to mend you.” He snorted dubiously. “Good thing you’re so stubborn.”

“I feel like shit,” I said. The inside of my mouth was gummy, cotton and crap all rolled into one.

“You’ve slept for a while,” he admitted. “They’ve been keeping you in some sort of stasis to let you heal, but Roweena removed it this morning. She said you would probably wake up in a bit.”

I nodded, my hands tapping idly over the bandage. I hissed at the pinch of pain, but it didn’t feel as bad as I thought it should. “Must have been a hell of a healing spell.” Part of me wasn’t sure I liked the concept of Faery magic done to me while I was unconscious. On the other hand, I wasn’t dead, so that was a plus right there.

“How’s Brystion?” I said it casually, ignoring the twisted feeling of my heart. The unicorn gave me an odd look, shifting his legs underneath him and taking a sudden interest in his tail.

“Ah, well. Ahem. That is to say”—he shook his head, mane splaying like fine dandelion fluff—“he’s gone. Completely and utterly gone. Truth be told, we sort of hoped you’d be able to tell us.”

I turned away, my eyes staring unfocused at the blinds. “How would I? I’m not his TouchStone anymore.” I rubbed my eyes, resolving not to cry. “I don’t remember anything past that—just going through the Door.”

Phineas nodded. “Complete chaos, honestly. You spilled
out of a massive hole in the painting a damned bloody mess. I thought Roweena was going to have an apoplexy at the sight. Brystion stepped through after you and asked Melanie to make him another Door.” He nuzzled my hand. “She’s been here too, you know. They all have.”

I bit my lip. “Except for him.” Damn. So much for not crying. The salted dampness ran to the edges of my mouth. Idiot. In the end I really didn’t have anyone to blame but myself, though how I was supposed to have controlled my own nightmares from manifesting, I had no idea. Still, if it really
had
been my subconscious forcing him into such a thing . . . I shuddered.

“Except for him,” the unicorn agreed.

The ache of misery filled my face and stretched it taut. “You can leave too, you know. You don’t need to be stuck here anymore.”

“I know,” he said softly. “I could have broken our bond whenever I wanted to. But the truth is, I don’t want to. It’s interesting here. Of course, you
are
a pretty shitty cook.”

I smiled despite myself. “I’ll learn,” I promised, “but stay out of my underwear. It’s kind of nasty.”

“Fair enough,” he snorted, his ears flattening as someone tapped lightly at the bedroom door. He cleared his throat. “Enter,” he said imperiously, winking at me.

Robert poked his head around the door frame, his face brightening when he saw me. “I thought I heard voices. Good to see you’re awake.” He gracefully slipped into the room, crouching down beside the bed. “How are you feeling? Up to having visitors maybe?”

I frowned at him. “For a little bit,” I nodded, wondering at his demeanor. “But I’m not sure you’re someone I want to see right now, no offense.”

“Robert’s been guarding your apartment,” Phineas admonished as the angel’s face darkened. “It’s a rather high
form of flattery to get the Protectorate’s own bodyguard watching over you.”

I snorted. “Or maybe it’s a punishment, eh? Let your guard down around Moira and they dumped me on you? Replaced you with something better?”

Robert’s jaw tightened. “Perhaps.” He inclined his head as though acknowledging the point. “But I can’t say I didn’t deserve it, Sparky. I was . . . wrong.”

“How’s Charlie?” I ignored him.

“She is . . .” His mouth twitched and he pulled hard on his lower lip. “She’s doing okay. She wasn’t badly injured, but she is having a lot of issues sleeping.” He bent down, his forehead touching the back of my knuckles. “I was wrong about you, Abby. I know that now.” He kissed the tips of my fingers, but it was less an erotic gesture and more a promise of sorts. “Thank you,” he murmured. “You have brought my heart back to me—both of them.”

A polite cough drew our attention back to the door, and a sunbeam of a smile lit up Robert’s face as he saw Moira framed just inside the doorway. The elvish woman was still slight, even given her recent pregnancy, but her dark blond hair was perfectly smooth and gleaming. The rest of her was just as flawless, from the honeyed skin to the arched cheekbones with her succulent lips and delicately pointed ears. Her eyes were slanted and a brilliant green. I was surprised to see her like that, but I tried not to let it show. Moira had rarely displayed herself to me without some form of Glamour.

A delicate spring-green dress clung to her hips, ribbons at her arms and her ankles. It should have looked ridiculous, but on her it was as though she would simply float away on the breeze with each gliding step. She placed one hand on her protector’s head, caressing the dark locks fondly.

“I’d like a moment or two alone with Abby, Robert. If
you don’t mind, that is.” It was phrased as a request, but there was nothing particularly questioning about it. Robert gave her a rueful smile, quite assured of his place. He nodded politely at me and left, the door clicking closed behind him. Moira gave the unicorn a pointed look, but he simply bleated.

Her smile turned up, exposing feral teeth. “Now.”

I nudged Phineas with a tired hand. “Go on,” I said, my eyes flicking toward the Protectorate. “Girl talk. I’m sure you understand.”

He snorted but hopped off the bed. Trotting over to the door, he pawed it gently with a hoof, sighing as it opened and then closed again, his tail swaying gently behind him.

“Strange little thing,” Moira muttered, sitting down on the bed beside me. She reached out with her hand, brushing the hair from my brow. Her touch was soothing, and I let myself lean into it. We sat there like that for a few moments, and I became vaguely aware that I probably hadn’t bathed in a while. Bad enough to be in the company of mere mortals, but she didn’t appear to notice.

“How’s the baby?” I hadn’t seen it since the night of my escape. Or heard it, rather, but I suspected it had been bundled off rather quickly with Moira at the time.

Her face lit up in a gentle smile. “Ah, the wee little thing is quite well. The Queen owes you a debt, you know.”

“Not me,” I said brusquely, pulling away from her hand. “Brystion is the one that did it. He’s the one who rescued you.”

She cocked a brow, her head tilting to one side. “Yes,” she nodded. “It’s true. The incubus
is
the one that came through the Doorway to find us. But who was it that set that in motion? Who was it that searched for me? Who stood in the face of quite a bit of prejudice?” Her gaze turned toward the door before fixating back on me. “I’m very well aware of
what you had to go through to free me . . . and what you had to give up.”

I stared at her. “Are you?”

“I am,” she said coolly, all princess and Protectorate now. “And I want to offer you the chance to break the Contract.”

“I did that poorly, huh?” I tried to roll over onto my side but winced at the pain and settled for just looking away.

“I’m sorry for that, too,” she said, eyeing my stomach. “But no, that’s not why I’m offering it. In truth, it’s because I was not able to honor the terms of our agreement. If you wish to break with me, there are no repercussions to the act, save that you’ll get your freedom.” She held up a hand. “Though I’d imagine you’ll have several offers within the hour. My part of the bargain included making sure
you
were taken care of, that you were given correct information, that your word would be honored among my people. I have failed you in that regard, and therefore failed in my position.”

“Well, you were kind of captured in a painting,” I pointed out dryly. “A bit difficult to rule the roost from there.”

Moira’s hand rested on her slim belly. No new mama look for her, obviously. Somehow I doubted there would be stretch marks either. Bitch.

“Aye. But even . . . before all that. I should have taught you more. I brought you in uneducated and threw you to the wolves.”

“Trial by fire,” I said softly. “I’ve had a lot of that lately.” I paused, unsure of the next question, but the hell with it, really. I wanted to know. “Why did Maurice do it? And, um, what happened to him?”

“Maurice and I were lovers. TouchStoned for a long time—several hundred years as you mortals reckon it.”

“So, lovers,” I prodded, knowing this part. “And then, something happened?”

She sucked in a deep breath, suddenly looking far more
uncertain than I had ever seen her. “Yes. I don’t know. He changed, I guess. Or I did. Even for my kind, love is never sure, never eternal. He became power-hungry and angry. He wanted me to take him to Faery. To live.”

“He wanted to become the Steward,” I mused. “A modern-day True Thomas. And you wouldn’t agree?”

“It’s the Queen’s decision, and I am not yet Queen. Once accepted to the Faery Court, you become part of it. I wasn’t sure I
wanted
Maurice as a permanent fixture. So, I let him go. He left before I could terminate the Contract completely and tried to leave the city. The geas snapped into place before I could stop it. I was able to track him down later and break it properly, but by then it was too late.”

She rubbed at her eyes with a weary hand. “And then you showed up, all Dreamer and Nightmares wrapped into one, so jaded and so strong. I had to take you, KeyStone and all.”

“You could have at least told me what was going on,” I said, not bothering to keep the sullenness from my tone. “And you didn’t answer my question. Where’s Maurice?”

“He’s being . . . taken care of,” she muttered grimly, looking away. “Needless to say, his ill-won youth will not gain him anything where he’s going. He has a lot to answer for, between the daemon assassins and the draining of the succubi.” Her lips twisted wryly. “Not to mention our imprisonment.”