Ever After (6 page)

“This is how you've been breaking into places so easily?” I guessed. “He checks out all the security measures for you in advance.”

Arabella quickly looked away. “That's part of it.”

She went to a clothes rack that contained all manner of costumes and withdrew a long, dark green hooded cloak hidden among them. There was nothing remarkable about it. If I'd had to hazard a guess, I would've thought it nothing more than an old wool cloak from days gone by—or a decent reproduction. But then she draped it over her shoulders and a tiny cloud of fairy dust rose up in the air around her.

“That's an enchanted cloak,” I announced. “It's fairy-made.”

She nodded, grinning with barely contained excitement. “Not just that.” She pulled the hood up over her head and winked. The next thing I knew, she was gone. No, not gone—I could still feel her in the room, but she had vanished from my sight. Then I felt a
whoosh
of air and I was jerked forward until I bent slightly at the waist. And then there was the fleeting pressure of her lips upon mine. When my eyes went wide with surprise, she shoved the hood from her head and became visible again, her own eyes dancing with delight.

“An invisibility cloak,” she said, stating the obvious. “And not just
any
invisibility cloak—it's the one my mother made for my father, the one that was taken from her after he died and lost to the ages. But I found it, Gideon! I found it!”

With a little bounce of excitement, she threw her arms around my neck, hugging me tightly. I wrapped my arms around her and lifted her from her feet, happy to return the embrace, probably holding her longer than I should have.

“And there's more!” she said, taking my hands in hers when I set her back on her feet. “I've slowly been tracking down all of the things that were precious to him, the relics my mother had given him, had made for him, infusing them all with her love. I've retrieved nearly all of them.”

“Are any of these items by chance among those you stole from the Met?” I asked.

Her excitement slowly faded from her face and her grip on my hands loosened, letting them drop out of her grasp. “I didn't take those.”

“But—”

“Someone else got to them first,” she interrupted. “When I got there, they were already gone.”

“Arabella, those items belonged to Arthur Pendragon,” I reminded her, my head spinning with the implications. “Are you telling me . . . ?”

“Yes,” she replied, her chin going up a notch. “Arthur Pendragon was my father. And he didn't die because my half-brother Mordred killed him. He was murdered because he was in love with my mother, Nimue, the Lady of the Lake.”

I thought of Guinevere and the vehemence with which she'd said how precious Arthur's relics were to her. Had she killed him in a jealous rage because of an affair? If so, why would she now be collecting evidence of that affair? None of it made any sense, least of all how Arabella came to be living as a thief in the forest if she'd been born to a fairy as powerful as the Lady of the Lake.

I took Arabella gently by the shoulders. “Lass, are y'sure about all this? Could there be some mistake about where y'came from? I know you felt adrift in Make Believe, like the forest was the only place y'belonged, but—”

“I'm absolutely certain, Gideon,” she shot back. “I received the news from the most reliable source possible.”

“Who?
Fabrizio?
” I heard Fabrizio's muttered words of indignation from where Arabella had placed him on top of the dresser.

“No, not Fabrizio,” she huffed, taking off the cloak and casting it onto her bed. “It was the one man who knew Arthur best, who knew his most intimate secrets, helped him rise to glory and was there with him when it all fell apart.”

Understanding dawned, bringing an unpleasant taste to my mouth when I realized whom she meant. “Merlin.”

She slapped her hands on her hips and lifted her chin. “Exactly. And what reason would he have to lie to me?”

I could think of several, not the least of which being that Arabella was a beautiful woman and Merlin was an unrepentant womanizer.

“Not only that,” she continued, “but he's been teaching me all kinds of things I didn't even know I could do—”

Oh, I bet he was . . .

“—abilities I must've inherited from my mother.”

I eyed her skeptically, wondering what manner of nonsense Merlin had been filling her head with. “Arabella . . .”

“Don't believe me?” she retorted, that impish chin jutting up at me. “Well, watch this.” She took a step backward and vanished again, this time without the benefit of the invisibility cloak. And I couldn't feel her presence any longer. It was as if all the light had gone out of the room.

Suddenly, she reappeared before me, holding a cup of coffee in each hand and a small bag of freshly baked scones, and grinning from ear to ear. “Wasn't sure if you were hungry, but I missed breakfast following you around.”

“Where the hell did you go?”

“Café around the corner,” she said with a shrug, handing me one of the coffees. “I'm still getting used to popping out of the rift unnoticed, though—nearly scared a poor old lady out of her knickers.”

“You can shift,” I marveled, somehow finding her even sexier now than ever. “Only fairy-born can do that.”

She spread her arms and bowed with a wink. “It has become quite handy, I must say—especially when it comes to keeping up with you, love.”

“Or spying on me,” I added, lifting a brow pointedly.

She squirmed a little. “I wouldn't call it
spying
exactly.”

“No?” I replied. “And what would
you
call what you were doing at the king's estate last night and then again this morning at the Met?”

She lifted her chin a notch. “Surveillance.”

I grunted. She could call it what she liked. But the fact was, her ability to shift through time only increased her talent for stealth. And it certainly explained how she'd managed to pop in and out of places to nick the relics without getting caught. It also explained the magical residue left behind at the crime scenes, making her protestations of innocence less likely to be believed by the authorities—or my king.

“Okay, so how do the fairy dust thefts tie into this?” I asked, feeling the tingling at my wrists growing with urgency I wouldn't be able to ignore much longer.

Arabella heaved a sigh. “I can't tell you that,” she insisted. “Not yet. Right now we need to go to Vegas.”

“Vegas,” I repeated, frowning. “Merlin's in Vegas.”

She gave me a curt nod. “Precisely.” When my expression grew stormy, she quickly added, “Merlin has some of the answers. It's best if you hear them from him. Please, Gideon. Just trust me. I promise, I'll reveal everything in time.”

She was damned right she would ... whether she liked it or not, unfortunately, once the king had his hands on her. The mere thought of what the king might do to her in his fury brought back the maddening panic that had gripped me in Central Park. Soon I'd have to make a choice. I just prayed I'd have the strength to make the right one. And be able to live with my betrayal.

A
rabella seemed a little twitchy as we came out of the time rift. She'd had trouble opening another portal so soon after her Starbucks run, but I chalked it up to her still learning how to pass through the folds of time. There were some extremely powerful fairy folk who never managed to master it with the ease with which I handled it. But when I noticed that some of the bounce had gone out of her step and that her cheeks had gone a little pale, it became clear that something else was at work.

As we walked the Vegas strip, she grew even more agitated, stripping off her jacket and tossing it onto the sidewalk with a groan. I snatched it off the ground and gently took her hand in mine, pulling her aside and into the shade of an awning marking the entrance to a midlevel casino.

“You're hungry,” I told her, taking hold of her chin to look into her eyes, concerned to see the difficulty she had focusing.

She forced a smile. “Maybe I should've had more than a scone and a latte for breakfast.”

I frowned down at her, not liking her growing pallor. “We're going back,” I announced, grabbing her hand and heading back in the direction from which we'd come. “You're not well.”

“Gideon, I'm fine!” she grumbled, digging in her heels. “I just need lunch. I'll get something from a food truck on our way to Merlin's hotel. Amazing invention, the food truck. Really, I've grown quite fond of them since I've been here.”

I studied her for a moment, then glanced around before waving my hand and producing a chili dog with shredded cheese and mustard. Her eyes widened with delight. “How did you know ... ?” I peered over the top of my shades so she could see my eyes, making her chuckle. “Seriously? It works that well, does it?”

I shrugged. “Sometimes.”

She took a huge bite of the chili dog as we walked, moaning a little as the flavors hit her tongue. “This is delicious,” she said after she'd swallowed the bite. “My God—no wonder you're such an amazing lover if you know exactly what a girl is thinking, what she's wanting you to do for her. . . .”

I kept my gaze straight ahead, trying to ignore the images her words brought to mind and wondering just where the hell Merlin's hotel was anyway. I wasn't exactly eager to see my old pal again now that I knew what he'd been up to with Arabella, but I'd kiss that bastard on the mouth if it'd get Arabella to change the subject. A subject that was torturing me with erotic images of us together that I had no business thinking about just then.

“Are you always this serious?” she asked, polishing off her chili dog. “You never used to have that perma-frown going.”

She was right, of course. I hadn't been nearly as serious or severe when she'd known me. Not externally anyway. But what she didn't realize was that any lightheartedness she'd witnessed had been more
her
doing than any inherent trait of mine. Her smile, her fearlessness, her brash eagerness to embrace every experience as an adventure—it was contagious.

And I'd craved it. Arabella had been a breath of fresh air to a dying man. Quite literally. The path I'd been walking had had only one destination. But she had offered me a detour that led me away from certain damnation and into her arms, giving me a glimpse of what the Ordinaries would call heaven. The memories of that happiness and the pure hell I'd experienced after I thought she'd died came back to me in a painful rush, making me wince.

“Oh, and there's another scowl brewing, just there between your eyebrows,” she teased, wagging her index finger at my forehead. When I frowned at her, fulfilling her prediction, she gave me a playful smile, genuine this time. “Although, I have to say, you're quite handsome when you're worried about me.”

“Handsome?” I grumbled, letting her drag me along behind her. “I'd rather never have to worry about you and you think me repugnant.”

She sent a flirty grin over her shoulder. “Never happen.”

“You not giving me cause to worry? Oh, yes, I'm well aware that you take great delight in tormenting me with your antics. You always did.”

She laughed. “I meant, you'd never be repugnant to me—even if you were old and grizzled and all those gorgeous red-gold curls fell out, I'd still think you were the most handsome man I'd ever seen.” She abruptly stopped and spun around to face me to say something more, but having not anticipated her sudden halt, I slammed into her, my arms going around her to keep us both from stumbling. Laughing, she grabbed on to my jacket to steady herself.

I cursed under my breath and took a step back, putting her at arm's length. “Sorry, lass,” I threw over my shoulder as I strode away, walking ahead of her now.

“Gideon!” she called, jogging to keep up with my long strides.

Fortunately, at that point we finally arrived at the hotel and casino where Merlin was staying and performing his act. I went into the lobby, making a beeline for the elevator. As luck would have it, the doors happened to open just as I pushed the up button. Not so fortunately, Arabella and I were the only passengers.

“I'm not gonna be just another one of yer games, Arabella,” I muttered. “Not this time.”

She pressed the button for the penthouse, then stepped directly in front of me, crossing her arms over her chest. “For the record, you were never a game to me. And you're not a game now.”

I studied her for a long moment, wanting to believe her. “You have chili on your mouth,” I told her, avoiding the conversation about
us
.

She swiped at the corner of her mouth. “Gideon—”

“You missed it,” I said. “It's the other side.”

“Bugger all . . .” She huffed and wiped the other corner. “Listen, I—”

“It's still there.”

“Oh, for fuck's sake!” she grumbled, throwing her arms up in the air as we jolted to a stop and the doors opened. A man in a loud silk shirt started to get on, but Arabella threw a glare at him over her shoulder. “Take the next one.”

The guy grunted and started to get on anyway, but Arabella blocked his path. “Oi!” she snapped, giving him a shove back into the hallway. “Hop it, mate!”

As soon as we were on our way again, she turned back to me, her lips pressed together in an angry line. But before she could take the piss out of me, I cupped her cheek and pulled her toward me, wiping the smudge from the corner of her mouth, letting my thumb pass over her lips more than was necessary.

“There,” I said, my thumb now smoothing over her cheek as I marveled at the softness of her skin. “That should do it.”

She shook her head. “No. I don't think so.” With that, she grabbed my jacket and pulled me down to receive a hard, hungry kiss. I wanted to resist her. I knew I should push her away. But I was far too weak. I kissed her back, lost in the sweet taste of her. I snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her hard against me, lifting her up on her toes. When she released me and took a step out of my arms, she closed her eyes for a moment. “I'm sorry, Gideon. I shouldn't keep doing that, but—
bloody hell,
I've missed kissing you.”

I wanted to tell her how much I'd missed kissing her, too. I wanted to drag her back into my arms and capture her mouth again, show her just what we'd missed out on all these years. But I didn't. I shoved my hands into my pockets to keep from peeling off her clothes right then and there and caressing every inch of her body, and took a step back, putting a safe bit of distance between us.

“All I want—” She suddenly grimaced, in visible pain, bracing her hand against the wall of the elevator. She swayed a little on her feet, and I was at her side in an instant.

“What is it, lass?” I asked, my arm going around her waist to steady her.

She gave me a shaky smile and patted me on the chest. “No worries. Just a bit knackered.” When I gave her a disbelieving look, she laughed. “I'm fine!” She reached up and smoothed her index finger over the crease between my brows. “So serious!”

I wanted to press her to tell me what was going on. I knew she wasn't being honest with me and even as I gazed upon her, her aura thinned out, growing dimmer. Unfortunately, before I had the chance to urge her to tell me the truth, the elevator doors opened, granting us access to the penthouse level—and the most garish, ostentatious décor I'd seen since the Renaissance. Crystal chandeliers, gilt crown moldings, white shag carpet, antique furniture upholstered with luxurious crimson velvet ... And in the center of it was a ridiculous white fountain overgrown with all manner of vines and flowers and complete with a fat little cherub playing a harp.

It had Merlin written all over it.

When I'd first met him, he'd been a bookish, scrawny lad I'd had to defend from trolls in a chance meeting on the road to Camelot. Who would've thought we'd cross paths again many years later and that we'd actually become friends?

Merlin had been a nobody then, an apprentice wizard still wet behind the ears, but with a great deal of talent and more than a little promise. But still unsure of his abilities, Merlin had allowed Uther Pendragon to take advantage of him, use his magic for purposes that were in direct conflict with Merlin's principles. It must've been a relief when the old king was murdered, leaving his noble son as heir. It was only after being given charge of the young king that Merlin was finally able to come into his own and realize his full potential.

Too bad that realization came along with a monster ego and overactive sex drive that turned him into an unrepentant attention whore the likes of which was only rivaled by our Shakespearean brethren, the Willies. God forbid they should ever find themselves in the same room together.

Merlin had come over just ten years before, but had immediately won over the Ordinaries with his elaborate magic shows and over-the-top special effects. The guy had taken Vegas by storm and was soon one of the most celebrated “illusionists” of the twenty-first century. Of course, it didn't hurt that the women thought him something of a rock star. And he lapped it up like milk from his mother's teat. He'd completely bought into the rock star image, ditching his druid's robes and long beard for black leather pants, piercings, and tattoos.

“Fantasia, darling,” came a voice from the other room but coming closer as he spoke. “I told you I needed the hot tub cleaned after last night's visitors. Not a single one of them swallowed. . . .”

I grunted in disgust. The thought of such an unapologetic philanderer looking after Arabella, keeping her from me all this time, filled me with rage.

“And, really, darling, I can't have tonight's guests—” His words cut off when he entered the foyer and saw us. He laughed a little nervously. “Gideon, my old friend . . .”

“Friend?” I growled, stalking toward him. “You son of a bitch!”

His heavily charcoaled eyes went wide just before my fist connected with his mouth, snapping his head back and knocking his top hat to the floor.

“Gideon!” Arabella cried, rushing forward and grabbing my arm in an attempt to hold me back.

“Bloody hell!” Merlin yelled, spitting blood onto his carpet before wiping a hand over his black goatee. “I have a show tonight, you wanker!”

I grabbed the lapels of his tuxedo jacket and slammed him up against the wall. “I don't give a flying
fuck
about your show, Merlin. How could you keep this from me? How could you keep
her
from me, knowing how I . . .”

I released him with a cry of rage and strode several paces away, trying to get a handle on my anger before I ripped his fucking throat out. Suddenly, Arabella was blocking my path, slipping her arms around my waist and resting her cheek against my chest.

“Hush now, love,” she murmured, her voice calming me like nothing else could. “I'm here
now
. We have
now
.”

“You just couldn't stay away from him, could you, Bella?” Merlin huffed.

Arabella turned her face up to mine, her eyes so full of sorrow it made my heart ache. “No,” she said softly, her dark gaze locked with mine. “I couldn't. I tried, Merlin, I really did.”

I wrapped my arms around my little love and held her against me, having her in my arms giving me the strength to rein in my temper and anger. When I finally raised my gaze to meet Merlin's, my expression must've been far less deadly for the wizard heaved a relieved sigh, his tension visibly diminishing.

“So,” Merlin drawled, making another swipe at his mouth with his fist, “what brings you by, Bella? You've finally revealed yourself to our dear friend, after all. I'm surprised you're not off shagging your brains out while you can.” When my expression went dark, Merlin held up his hands before I could fire off the retort that came to my lips. “Oh, come
on
! Don't tell me it hasn't crossed your mind.”

“We didn't come here to discuss our relationship,” Arabella assured him. “I need you to tell Gideon about the relics.”

Merlin's eyes widened ever so slightly. His excitement was obvious, the prospect of sharing some of his arcane knowledge awakening the nerd the rock star tried to hide, but he snatched up his top hat and strolled casually toward us, spreading his arms wide and revealing the vast network of skulls, dragons, and other tattoos on his bare chest. “Well, I suppose I can take a few moments to impart a little of my vast wisdom. Come, let us away to the study, my darlings.”

We followed him into an office that was even more garish and ostentatious than his foyer, but I had to give him credit for the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves that lined all four walls. And they weren't the kind of books you'd find in your average bookstore. These appeared to be a collection of archaic volumes of magic, mythology, herbology, and other ancient texts and scrolls written in pretty much every language imaginable and in every form of writing from cuneiform to runes to hieroglyphs to ancient Greek.