Remnants of Magic (5 page)

With each word spoken with incredulous fury, he repeated,
“You did a job for him?”

“It’s true. He sent a bunch of us out to kill or be killed. I was one of the few that made it out alive, if that speaks at all to the skills I have to offer. It was a high price for just a kiss, but what can I say? It’s just like his Changeling buddy said; what wouldn’t I do for the Touch?”

Donovan moved so fast he may well have teleported. He snatched London by the throat, lifting her onto her toes to bring her eye-to-eye with him. For one moment she though he meant to snap her neck right here and now and be done with her. Instead, he teleported them both away.

Chapter Seven

They reappeared in the center of the club. The band stopped playing instantly and the dancers scattered away, leaving them alone in the middle of the dance floor. “Unseelie!” Donovan snapped.

Immediately, Kieran and the one called Malcolm appeared from the crowd. A red-headed young man and two young women stepped up with them. The rest of the people, all fey, dropped even further back. “What do you do, Malcolm, with an animal that is diseased and dangerous?”

“You kill ‘em!” Malcolm snarled, hand gripping the hilt of his knife still in its sheath.

“This human has twisted the enchantment into something unspeakably vile. Already she’s attacked two of our Sidhe. She partook in the massacre of the fey of Danu’s temple, desecrating her sanctuary.” Donovan gripped London’s throat harder, preventing her from speaking or even dropping down from the tips of her toes. “What should you have done with her, Kieran?”

“Kill her,” Kieran admitted and there was no shred of doubt in his voice.

“You say you’re ready to go on missions. You think you are ready to fight to defend the fey? Prove it!” Donovan flung London to the ground before him.

London caught herself, her palms slapping hard on the floor. She lifted her head to look at the Unseelie Donovan had called forth. All of them young and blissfully inexperienced. They stared at her, there sprawled on the floor before them. They’d never killed before. None of them. And now that it came to it, they hesitated.

Kieran was the first to move. He crouched down. His beautiful eyes practically sparkled with mischief. “This is the part where you run.”

“Ya think?” London eased to her feet. Just how much were the fey like weres? If she ran, would that trigger their attack? She raised her hands, showing herself unarmed and not a danger. Maybe she could just back out of there. Just ease slowly backward toward the door.

Malcolm cut her off. His lips curled back from his clenched teeth. His face was flushed with something between pain and fury. With one hand extended toward her, he blocked her exit. For a moment, she expected some magic to burst forth from him, but instead, the blade gave a slow hiss as he unsheathed it.

“Easy now.” She kept her hands up, moving to sidestep him. “Remember me? Remember our kiss? You don’t want to hurt me.”

How the lad could sound so vicious, so inhuman, was frightening. He rushed at her, slashing with the wicked foot-long blade.

London dodged aside. Getting out of the open space of the dance floor, she scrambled to get a table between herself and Malcolm. The other earthborns circled around, but stayed back. Each time Malcolm rushed to catch her, London escaped, keeping the table always between them. “You don’t have to do this. Really! I’ll leave and never come back. I swear it!”

Malcolm leapt to a chair and then onto the table. He dove for her.

London grabbed up a chair just as he lunged. She caught him in the chest with the crossbars between the chair legs and, using that as leverage, she heaved him up and over, tossing him away.

While she was still in motion, Kieran grabbed her from behind. His arms caught hers and hugged them down, pinning them to her chest. “Gotcha!”

The grab was a standard self-defense class hold. London stomped back on his foot even as she drove her elbow back into his ribs. He lost his grip. She spun, catching him in the throat with a punch that knocked him down.

And then she ran.

Something slammed into her back, throwing her to the floor. Bits of flame showered around her, catching her jacket on fire. The next fireball flew over her head, only to explode on the door she figured had to lead outside. Not stopping to look back, London scrambled to her feet and slammed into the release bar across the metal door, shoving it open.

London knew the alleyway where she found herself. She’d been staking out the club for long enough to know where she was. Without slowing down, she scrambled out of her jacket, which was flaming, and abandoned it. Just twenty feet or so and she’d be clear.

Except for the Sidhe that suddenly appeared at the end of the alley.

Her hair was dark, long, and flowing. It lifted, as if caught by a wind, flying up behind her. Only it wasn’t her hair. More like a cloak of utter blackness. When the girl raised her arms, the darkness surged up behind her like a wave. As she drew her arms forward toward London, the blackness flooded over them both and crashed into the alleyway.

London covered her head in defense. The darkness had form, but no substance beyond a frozen dread that coiled around her, stealing her breath like death. If the shadow couldn’t strike her down, London wasn’t going to crumble beneath the horror it lanced through her. Though she could see little more than the space right around her, like a heavy smoke or fog, London knew the direction she faced led ‘out.’ She rushed forward, preferring the risk of slamming into a building to standing there and waiting for true death to catch her, be it by magic or blade.

Apparently the Sidhe hadn’t expected her to bash headlong into her. They both tumbled out onto the sidewalk. The magic evaporated as the girl’s head bounced on the concrete. London didn’t stop to see if she was hurt or just stunned. She knew where Kieran had parked the car. Just a couple blocks up the street. Not slowing down, she ran full out.

Voices and footfalls chased after her. As she grabbed a signpost to cut a turn at full speed she risked a backward glance. Malcolm with his knife and the redheaded lad with flames encircling both hands were in fast pursuit.

Giving up on reaching the car and getting away before they filleted or barbequed her, London cut down the cross street towards the shops. The streetlamps were brighter there. The hour wasn’t that late. Many of the stores would still be open. As London reached the main street, she nearly collided with a group of pedestrians. Amid apologies, she spun back around. The lads had stopped. The flames vanished from around the hands of the one. Malcolm still clutched the knife, but his mate caught his arm and leaned in to speak with him. He jerked Malcolm back, and reluctantly the lad sheathed his blade. Malcolm glared at her even as his friend pulled him backward. If looks could kill, she’d already be dead.

Chapter Eight

About a half an hour later London returned to the car, escorted by a nice constable who believed her story about an ex-boyfriend stalker. She didn’t see any sign of the Sidhe, but for all she knew, they could be watching her from behind a veil of Glamour. Once she was safely in the car, she gave the copper a smile and a wave and headed out of town.

This time she didn’t bother with the M9, electing to take a slower, more rural route. Once she left the lights of the city far behind her, London found a patch of road with a view of the moonlit hills. Low stone walls partitioned the grazing land, giving the landscape a patchwork appearance. She turned off the engine. Stepping out of the car, she felt the quiet and stillness of the countryside wrap around her. The calm would’ve been a comfort, if not for the memories of this evening tumbling through her head. London hopped up to sit on the hood of the car. She leaned back against the windshield and gazed at the vista of stars above her, so remote from the problems of this life.

She thought of Kieran. Of his magic, which still filled her. Of the kiss they’d shared. She would long for him, as she still longed for Rico, as she even longed for Malcolm. Pining for the Sidhe was just part of who she was now. Fighting and complaining about it only made her miserable; it didn’t change the facts. This was who she was now. An Enchanted human. As parahuman as a vampire or a werewolf. There was no more chance of going back to ‘normal’ for her than there was for Selena or Stephan. Denial and anger hadn’t made one whit of difference. Not even the bargaining she tried with Donovan offered her a reprieve. All there was for her now was truth and the acceptance of it.

London couldn’t blame Kieran for trying to kill her. Not after all she’d put him through. She couldn’t blame his friends for their reactions to her either, just wanting to protect one of their own from the likes of her.

Although… Kieran hadn’t actually tried to kill her. He’d attacked Stephan with his magic, possibly even killed him, but he hadn’t used his magic against her. Hadn’t even truly harmed her, just grabbed her. Who was to say what might have happened next, if she’d not broken away from him? But in that moment, he’d not used deadly force against her, though he was well capable of it with his magic.

The one they called Malcolm had taken her by surprise. Her first guess after their one encounter was that he would not remember her at all. Whatever drug he was flying high on apparently hadn’t blotted out the memory of her. Perhaps it twisted it somehow. She’d not recalled him appearing quite so young, naked and in the center of a clutch of vampire lovers. He’d had longer hair then, that fell across his face and she’d brushed it back with her fingers. When he’d gazed up at her with those dark eyes something struck her soul. Possibly just the effect of the enchantment, but it had felt so intense. And then they had kissed. His Touch had crashed through her with a force that shattered her. So much more powerful than Kieran’s or even Rico’s magic had been. How could this Sidhe, who kissed her so passionately then, seek to gut her so passionately now?

The vibration of her phone in the pocket of her slacks startled her. She’d forgotten that she’d left it switched to ‘silent’ mode. London answered it, “Hello?”

Selena hesitated. “I wasn’t sure that you’d answer. You made it away safely, then.”

“Safe for the moment, I think.” London watched the stars above and the wisps of clouds passing between she and them. “Do I even want to know how bad the mess is?”

“No fatal injuries.” There was a hint of a smirk in her voice that London could only guess as to the cause. The vamps must have bested the werewolves once the prey they fought over was lost to them.

“Stephan?”

“Alive. His ears are ringing, but the healer believes that should clear up in a week or so.”

London dragged her fingers through her hair. “Is he furious?”

“You know Stephan.” Selena chuckled. “You just scored major respect points, reclaiming your prey from him and his pack. He won’t underestimate you next time, though. Be forewarned.”

“Oddly enough, sounds like you fared better than I did this evening.”

“Ah, your prey slipped your grasp? Don’t despair. You’ll reclaim him or catch another.”

“I don’t think so.” London sighed. “I think I’m not the huntress of the Sidhe. I’m nothing more or less than an enchanted human. Cursed, enchanted, whatever term you want to use, it amounts to the same thing.”

The pause and the tone that followed expressed Selena’s opinion of this decision. She both disagreed with and accepted London’s choice. “With your young man from this evening, then?”

“No.” She thought about it and then added, “At least not right now. And not with Donovan, either. All of the Unseelie of the Glamour Club are rather miffed with me at the moment. I’ll need to steer clear of Kilkenny for a while.”

“I see.” Again, the tone of disapproval, but this time London imagined it was more Selena’s status as a master vampire that chaffed at the very notion of avoiding an enemy better faced and conquered.

“And apparently not in service of that Sidhe we met through the Changeling, either. The Sidhe was there, at the Glamour Club. Were he any better trained, he’d have killed me for certain.”

Selena chuckled low and seductive, likely recalling her own visit with the young Sidhe upon whose blood she’d feasted. “Well, that’s to be expected, I suppose.”

“Expected?” London shook her head. “I expected that he’d have been impressed that I survived that suicide mission he sent me on.”

“Oh, London, don’t be stupid. You didn’t for a moment believe that Changeling’s story about working for the Sidhe. Did you not use your eyes? What Sidhe would ever allow a clutch of vampires free and unrestricted access to his body and blood? What Sidhe would desire to wallow in that filthy cave with goblins for caretakers? You know yourself that the Changelings bear no love for the Sidhe; that’s what got Rico killed. Did you not see the ligature wounds about his wrists? No, luv, that Sidhe in the cave was nothing more than livestock to be milked of his blood and magic and to be used for such entertainment as we desired.”

London pulled the phone away from her face slowly and stared down at it. She pressed the ‘end’ button. She couldn’t speak past the lump in her throat anyway. It was true. Now that she thought about it, she had been stupid. So willing to believe anything to get her fix, she’d even believed the Changeling’s lies. No wonder the lad wanted to kill her.

London slumped back against the car. Once more, she stared up at the stars. At the eternity above her. If she truly meant to walk the path of the enchanted, she wouldn’t find one of Donovan’s Unseelie willing to take her on after all this, putting her right back at square one.

Her cell phone vibrated in her hand. London checked the message from a number she didn’t recognize.

We’re coming for you.

###

Bloodhound

Chapter One

(This story begins on the same day as the events in

Enchanted
: Touched #3)

“You’re so dead, mate!” Bryce shouted over the explosion of gunfire.

Malcolm flung himself back from the onslaught with a growl. “You’re naff!” Blood splattered on the telly as his man on the video game got massacred for the fifth time in a row. “That’s it! No more Mr. Nice Guy.” He hit the rematch button. “This time I’m bringing out the railgun. See how you like that.”

They jostled into each other as they jumped and dodged with their computer guys in a no-holds-barred, two-player combat to the death.

Again.

It didn’t even matter that Bryce crushed him on the stupid video game. Not really. Leastwise for the last few hours Malcolm hadn’t thought about magic at all. Pretty much, anyway. Donovan was the only one who didn’t think Malcolm’s bloodhound ‘magic’ was lame. The other Sidhe did, even if they played it off like it wasn’t any big deal. Like Malcolm wasn’t too awful weird, just kinda twitchy. But for the last couple hours, he’d just been one of the lads with Bryce, playing this video game like they were just regular 17-year-olds. And Malcolm sorta forgot for a tiny bit that they weren’t just that.