The Magic Knot (21 page)

As soon as the glass stopped falling, Nightshade flew out. Niall stared after them, his heart pounding as the stalker and his precious burden were swallowed by the night.

Gradually, Niall became aware of the unnatural silence. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the hardy fairies who’d stayed to watch shrink back against the wall. With a flick of his wrists he dropped a blade into each palm. Ciar might be down; her bodyguard was not.

For the first time in Niall’s life, his father had sided with him against the queen. But Troy couldn’t stand by and neglect his duty for long. Light-headed with wonder, Niall swiveled around and searched the room. Surrounded by a pearlescent glow, Troy stepped from the smoke-shrouded air, and touched his fingers to his forehead in a gesture of respect. Niall stood tall and replied with the same gesture, one warrior to another.

Michael walked up beside Niall and held out a hand. “Give me one of those daggers.” Frowning, Niall flipped over a blade and presented the handle to Michael.

Troy walked toward them and shook his head. “Michael, lad, what on earth do you intend to do with that?”

Michael gave a wry grin. “I’ve not got a clue, but
I’ve realized me brother has the right of this argument. I’m thinking I’ll have to go back to Cornwall with him.”

Troy grinned. For a few seconds he looked the image of Michael. “You’ll have your part to play in the pisky court, lad. You two had better make yourselves scarce before Ciar comes to.”

He drew his short black sword and took a fighting stance. “Looks like you’ll get your fight with me after all, Niall. The queen must believe I attempted to detain you.” Troy glanced at Michael. “Keep out of the way for a few minutes, lad. I don’t want you hurt by accident.”

Troy firmed his grip on his sword. His mouth flattened to a grim line as he faced Niall. “Looked like your lass might be badly burned. The surest way to cure her is to activate her fairy half.”

Dread clutched Niall’s chest, locking smoky air in his lungs.

“She’ll have to run the light with the stalker.”

Jacca cradled Rosenwyn against his chest and flew with the chill wind toward the southeast coast of Ireland.

He looked down and tried to see her face, but her head was wrapped in the sheepskin collar of Niall’s jacket. Although his wing muscles ached from the extra weight, sharp spurs of remorse urged him on. He’d promised to protect Rosenwyn. Why had he allowed her to step within the fiery ring? He should have had the strength to defy Ciar alone, not waited for Niall to take a stand before he acted.

She wriggled in his arms.

“Easy,” he said.

“Niall and Michael,” she croaked. “We can’t leave them.”

“The Irish brothers will be fine.” He had no doubt Niall would make sure they both got back to Cornwall safely. He had always respected Niall’s fighting skills. In Ireland, he’d witnessed strength in the man that was humbling. Niall faltered, but eventually he faced his demons and won.

Nightshade rose higher to clear the top of a mountain.
As he descended on the other side, salty air whipped his hair across his face. The sparkling, dark expanse of the Irish Sea lay before him like a sea of stars.

Rosenwyn shivered in his arms. The shock of the burning and then the chill of the night air must be taking their toll. He needed to check her condition, and he wanted to rest before striking out across the water.

Descending, he landed on a deserted stretch of scrubby grassland topping the cliffs above the sea.

With a sigh of relief, he let his wings fold. The muscles in his shoulders and back pulsed with a dull ache as he relaxed.

Nightshade crouched on the damp grass, sat Rosenwyn on his knee, and gently eased the sheepskin collar away from her face. He hadn’t thought she was too badly burned, but in the cool light of the moon her skin was the color of raw meat. For a moment fear stripped his strength. The cold sea breeze spiked his bare chest, penetrated his bones. What would happen to him if she didn’t recover? He couldn’t bear to return to his old life with Tristan.

Her teeth chattered. She snuggled deeper into Niall’s jacket and hugged herself. “You must go back…help…Niall.”

Nightshade gathered her into his arms and laid his cheek on her hair. Here he was thinking of himself, and Rosenwyn was worried about everyone except herself. She was much stronger than her mother. Far more deserving of his support and respect. He’d thought he loved Ailla once, but he’d only worshiped her beauty. That was not what made a good queen.

Although the piskies might punish him when they
were released, he must help Rosenwyn free them. Make amends for his betrayal.

Rosenwyn pressed her hand to her mouth and sobbed. “Should have…walked…through…the fire.”

“No, no.” Nightshade stroked her hair. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does,” she sobbed.

“Shh.” He hugged her tighter, unsure what to say. If only her fairy half had activated, she wouldn’t have burned. Niall had said he couldn’t run the light with Rosenwyn, but he didn’t explain why.

“We must make a move,” Jacca whispered.

She gazed up at him, bleary eyed.

“I’ll take the shortest route and head for Wales.”

“Aren’t you cold?” She blinked at his bare chest.

He flicked out his wings with a snap. “A coat cramps my style.”

When he set her on her feet, she stood like a child as he fastened the zipper up to her chin. “Ready?” He picked her up and she clutched at him. “Don’t hang on, sweet one. You’ll impede my wings.”

Rosenwyn laid her cheek against his chest and closed her eyes. As the blustery wind whipped needle points of sea spray against his skin, he glanced down at the woman in his arms. Tenderness swelled from his heart, warming his body. She trusted him with her life, just as she had when she was a little girl. Last time he’d let her down. This time he would protect her or die in the attempt.

Rose jolted awake, blinked, and realized she was still in Jacca’s arms. They’ landed in a field beside the sea. He went down on his knees and, with a groan, deposited
her on the damp grass. Her bare legs were so cold she couldn’t feel them, which was probably a blessing, as the warmer bits of her were in agony.

Wincing, Rose rubbed her eyes and looked at Jacca in the moonlight. His face was in shadow, but she made out the tremor in his muscles as he tried to close his wings.

Poor guy must be exhausted. Ignoring the screaming sting of her skin, she struggled to her feet, legs clumsy with lack of feeling. “How long were we in the air?”

He shook his head as she tried to help him up. “Give me a moment.”

Tentatively, Rose placed her fingers on his trembling shoulders and massaged. When he sighed with appreciation, she rubbed lower, worked the taut, quivering muscles where his wings joined his back.

He held still for a few minutes until the tension eased. “You’ve missed your vocation. That was wonderful.”

Jacca got to his feet, rolled his shoulders, and settled his wings against his back. “We need to find shelter and get some rest. Look”—he pointed to the right— “—there’s a cottage in darkness. Perhaps the place is empty.”

Rose squinted at the faint outline of a building and glanced at the luminous numbers on her watch. “It’s probably in darkness because it’s two in the morning.”

“If we’re lucky, it’s an empty tourist cottage.” With a hand on her back, he guided her over a narrow strip of road to the building. As they approached the gate, he released her. “Wait for me here.”

Rose watched him melt into the shadows and shivered inside Niall’s thick jacket. She pulled up the collar
and sniffed. Beneath the clinging stench of smoke, his woodsy fragrance lingered. For a moment she remembered being surrounded by his scent, the feel of his skin, tasting him, being one with him. “Niall,” she whispered into the darkness, “I need you.” Rose closed her eyes, relaxed, and felt for him. He swamped her mind suddenly and completely, as though he’d stepped inside her. Rose gasped, staggered, and clutched at the gatepost for support.

As quick as he’d come, he was gone, leaving a pulse of reassurance. He was safe and on his way to find her. Rose blinked, a touch light-headed, but relieved.

The muffled smash of stealthily broken glass cut into her calm and she grimaced. In the last few days she’d gone from respectable professional to desperado on the run, breaking and entering.

The darkness beside her thickened, took form, and Jacca appeared. Rose pressed a hand over her heart. “Don’t do that near me again.”

“Why not? The ability to become a shade is highly valued among the Good People.”

“It freaks me out.” She pressed her fingers to her throbbing temples. She still had so much to learn, but right now she just wanted good old-fashioned human comforts: painkillers, coffee, and a warm bed.

Jacca wrapped an arm around her and led her to the open front door. “We’re in luck. This must be a holiday cottage left empty in the winter.”

She clicked the light switch but nothing happened. “Can we turn on the electricity and find a heater? I’m freezing.” The temperature was no warmer inside than out.

“I’ll look. Make yourself comfortable.” He faded into the darkness. Rose felt her way along the hall until
she found an open door. Faint slivers of moonlight between the window-blind slats illuminated a basic kitchen. Her stomach rumbled at the mere possibility of food.

Starting at one end of the room, she ignored the pounding in her head as she bent down and methodically checked the cupboards and drawers for anything edible. She found three tea bags and a lot of mouse droppings in a chewed cardboard box, a supersize box of salt, and a sticky bottle of sauce. Her stomach churned at the sour smell of mice. On a wave of nausea she dropped into a chair and rested her aching head against the cool Formica table.

Every square inch of her skin burned as though it were still exposed to the fire. Since she’d woken, the pain had increased with each passing second. Tears swam into her eyes. She fought to keep them from falling. She must be strong until Niall arrived; then he’d know what to do.

With a metallic hum the fridge came to life, and the micro wave oven started flashing, SET CLOCK.
Well-done, Jacca.
When Rose snapped on the light switch, the room burst into white Formica brilliance.

Shiny pain spiked her eyes before she shielded her face.

Jacca loomed in the doorway, his skin blacker than black in contrast. “Anything to eat?”

She shook her head, and her brain screamed at the movement.

He glanced around, then strode over to the cupboards and randomly opened a few doors. Rose quashed her irritation that he didn’t believe her. Maybe she had missed something in the dark.

He sighed and slammed a cupboard door. “Never
mind. Come into the sitting room—there’s an electric fire.”

When Rose moved, the pain where the jacket abraded her arms and neck made her head spin. Darkness chased away the light around the periphery of her vision. She swayed.

Jacca was beside her in an instant. “Rosenwyn.”

She fumbled at the coat zipper. “Get it off.”

With a frown, he unfastened Niall’s jacket, eased it off her shoulders, and dumped it on the table. The cool air relieved the soreness, and she became aware of another sensation. “Where’s the bathroom?”

“End of the corridor.” He surveyed her through narrowed eyes. “Can you manage?”

“When I need you to help me pee, I’ll really be in a bad way.” Rose clamped her teeth against the pain as she walked down the hallway. The faint odor of mold and soap scum led her to the bathroom door. She stared at the stained green toilet. A far cry from her own carefully decorated flat in London.

Fresh tears surged into her eyes. Clean and neat was how she liked her home and her life, and nothing was ever going to be clean and neat again. What she wanted was a hospital bed with smooth white sheets and nurses pumping morphine into her until everything went away.

When she finished, she sent up a quick prayer for painkillers to what ever god she should talk to now that she was pisky, and opened the bathroom cabinet. A curled bar of soap lay in a puddle of dried scum.

The small window above the toilet rattled. Rose glanced up and caught the flash of movement outside. Her breath lodged in her throat. When the rattling became a regular tapping against the glass, she backed
up, eyes glued to the window, and reached blindly behind her for the door handle. Black mist streamed from the outlet, swirled into a column, then resolved into the form of a man.

“Jacca!” Rose wrenched open the door and sprinted along the corridor. “Shade in the bathroom,” she said in a gasp as she pushed past him into the sitting room. She glanced around wildly, checking that the windows were closed and looking for holes where a shade could get in.

“Damnation, I thought Ciar would send shades, but not this fast. Let’s hope our visitor’s a lone scout.” Jacca scanned the room. With the tips of his fingers, he plucked an ornamental horse shoe off the mantel above the fire and tossed it on the sofa. He shook his hand and nodded at the horse shoe. “A weapon for you. Iron is inimical to fairies. When they’re in shade form the metal can sever the bond they have with their body.”

After Jacca ran from the room, Rose picked up the horse shoe gingerly. Trembling, she clutched the back of the sofa for support and flicked her gaze between the door and the window. A few minutes passed; then black mist drifted out of the old chimney behind the electric fire and started to take form.

With a firm grip on her strange weapon, Rose stepped forward and swiped the horse shoe through the shadowy figure. It shattered into inky droplets, spun into a minitornado, then shot back up the chimney. Rose’s heart raced so fast she could hardly breathe. Collapsing on the sofa, she stared at the horse shoe with new respect. Maybe the lucky horse shoe superstition had a basis in truth.

Jacca burst through the door with the shaker of salt from the kitchen in his hand. “Still in one piece?”

Rose nodded.

“Only one shade, I think,” he said, sprinkling salt around the edge of the room. “We can’t proof the whole house, but we can keep the blighter out of this room.” He poured generous amounts near the window, door, and fireplace, then levered off the lid with a fingernail to extract the last few grains.

Although Niall and Michael had used a ring of salt around Ana’s house to keep out malevolent fairies and her father’s spells, she still wasn’t convinced it would work. “You’ve got a backup plan, haven’t you?”

Jacca dropped the plastic container beside the door and walked over to her. “They won’t pass over the salt. We’ll stay here until light, then try to get back to Cornwall.” He sighed. “I can’t fly in daylight. We’ll have to find a vehicle and you can drive us.”

“Niall’s coming.” When she quieted her mind, she could feel him in the distance, a safe harbor in a storm. “Let’s wait.” Rose sank back against the cushions, careful not to let the fabric rub her sore skin. “I’m not up to driving, anyway.” Now the immediate threat was over, her brain felt as though it were being poked with red-hot wires. She put her hand over her eyes. “I feel awful.”

The sofa dipped as Jacca sat beside her. He laid a gentle hand on her back. “You need the immunity of your fairy powers. I know Niall came to you. What went wrong?”

She remembered the hurt in Jacca’s eyes when she hadn’t chosen him to run the light. Having to discuss it with him was awkward. “We tried.” She waited a few head throbs for him to respond, her ears buzzing in the silent room. When he said nothing, she continued. “It didn’t work.”

“I can see that.”

“I think it’s my fault.” Rose avoided his curious gaze. “I didn’t let go of my human side when we…you know.”

Jacca shook his head. “I think I know what might have happened.”

He suddenly had all her attention. “Niall blamed himself. Do you think he was right?”

“Indirectly, he could be.”

Fear shivered through her. Did that mean there was some fairy reason why she and Niall shouldn’t be together?

Jacca took her hand, cradling it in his. “I had a long time to think on the journey. I believe Ciar intended you to fail by allowing you to choose Michael or Niall. You are both of different mixed blood. To be successful, my guess is you need a pureblood pisky.”