Wuthering Frights (29 page)

"Okay," she said and then paused, studying me intently. "Are you in trouble?"

"Up to my ears." I took a deep breath. "That's the other thing, do NOT tell anyone that I came here or that I gave you this information. If it gets out that it was me, Knight will be the one to suffer, do you understand?"

She frowned. "Crystal clear."

Sixteen

The days leading up to the
Draoidheil
delivery passed by in a blur while the moments before we were due at the docks seemed to go by at a snail's pace. For the last twenty-four hours, I was on autopilot, just going through the motions of living my life
(including magicking my purple-black hair back to my natural honey gold)
, fully aware that everything I knew was about to change drastically.

After tonight, when Melchior's plan went awry, my father would be fully aware that something
was
rotten in the state of Splendor. I had to imagine it wouldn't be a stretch to realize I was the one with the loose lips. As soon as Melchior discovered that Knight was no longer in Splendor and unaccounted for, it would be obvious that I was the mastermind. Yep, I would be the one to destroy my father's dreams of despotism. And what did that mean for me? Well, honestly, I hadn't even thought that far ahead. But considering it now, en route to the loading docks, with Quillan as my only companion, I realized my neck would soon be on the chopping block.

"Are you okay, Dulce?" Quill asked. He was driving the red Mercedes my father lent me. With my current state of nerves and anxiety, I didn't think driving myself was a good idea.

According to plan, it was just going to be Quill and me working on the loading docks. We were supposed to meet up with Baron and Horatio to receive six shipments of
Draoidheil
. After securing the crates in the Mercedes, we would take them to Ink, where we would store them in the cellar until further word from Melchior. Christina was supposed to do the same at the abandoned railway station, also in Splendor, with three sidekicks provided by my father.

"Yeah, I'm okay," I said with a sigh when I noticed the concerned smile on his handsome face. As I took in the sweet expression in his eyes and the fullness of his lips, I suddenly wished things were completely different. I wished I could rewind time to how things were a year ago, before I discovered my so-called friends were illegal potions importers. And before I'd become one too.

"Do you ever think about how things used to be?" I asked him in a small, wistful voice, the seatbelt across my chest suddenly binding and tight.

He nodded and chewed on his lower lip for a second or two as his eyes seemed to glaze over with something that resembled nostalgia. "I live in my memories, Dulcie," he said softly. "The only way I've been able to survive is to relive the memories I once found so much enjoyment in."

My lips went tight. "You realize that's not living, right, Quill?" When he didn't respond, I continued. "He's reduced us to this." I shook my head, hating my father with every cell in my body.

"We don't have to endure this alone," Quill said, reaching over to pat my knee consolingly. I eyed him with surprise, and when he didn't move his hand, I moved it for him. "You used to care about me, Dulcie," he said, apologetically, his eyes boring into mine.

"Yeah, a long time ago."

"Once you called me your hero," he continued and I couldn't swallow the frog that lodged in my throat. He was referring to the protagonist of a romance novel I
'd
been writing who had been modeled after
him. And, to be fair, once upon a time he had been my hero. But if I'd learned anything in the last year or so, it was that "once upon a time" didn't exist. Fairy tales depicting happily ever afters were just that: tales ... lies ... crocks of total shit.

"I could be your hero again, Dulcie."

"Quill," I began, unhappy with the direction this conversation seemed to be headed. Things were
as
different now as night and day; and the feelings I'd once felt for him had changed.

But Quill shook his head. "I think about you constantly, about us, about what could have been." He hit a red light and used it to his advantage, turning to face me as he spilled the contents of his heart. It made me feel like a total asshole because I didn’t want to hear any of it."I've felt your passion for me, Dulcie. I've kissed you and I know you enjoyed it. I want to know what it means to taste you again."

I took a deep breath and riveted my attention out the window, knowing that tonight I would not only betray my father but Quillan as well. And what was more, he would remember this exact moment, this conversation, and he'd probably hate me for it.

"We could be happy together," he said, breaking the silence in the car that was now suffocating me. The light changed to green and he started forward. The docks loomed into view.

I faced him, my eyes harsh. "We'll never find happiness doing this," I said acidly. "This is no way to live and you know it."

"I would live my life around you. You're the only thing that brings me any joy anyway."

"You have to stop talking to me like this," I said, diverting my eyes, not able to stomach the expression of pain in his
gaze
.

Quill laughed an ugly sound as he took a right on the road that led down to the docks. We were twenty minutes early and there was no sign of Baron or Horatio anywhere. Neither was there a sign of anyone from the ANC. As far as I could tell, Quill and I were the first to arrive.

"Things will never be the same between you and Vander," Quill said, seemingly enjoying holding my tattered relationship with Knight over my head. "You occupy opposite worlds now and the sooner you realize that, the better. You need to move on."

"Move on with you?" I snapped, turning to glare at him, even as I told myself to cool it but I couldn't seem to keep my anger in check. I was so overwhelmed with rage and fear about the unfolding events that I felt like a ticking time bomb.

"You cared for me once," he said simply.

I shook my head. "We are not having this conversation right now."

Quill said nothing more, but parked the Mercedes in the lot just beside the docks. Faced with the silence between us, I undid my seatbelt, opened the car door and stepped out into the dark night. I stared up at the stars, feeling the cold, salty air dance with my hair, shifting it this way and that. Watching the stars twinkle back at me, I suddenly yearned to be anywhere but here. For once I actually wished my fairy wings would sprout from my back and carry me away with the gentle winds.

"Where the fuck you been?" I heard Baron's voice and turned around, feeling dismay fill my gut as my heart dropped. He stood maybe six feet from me, leering at me as if I were naked. And I was far from naked—clad in my yoga pants, tennies and a long-sleeved black T-shirt. I'd strapped daggers to my upper arms and my Op 6 was snugly holstered around my waist and hidden beneath my zippered sweatshirt.

"We didn't see you," Quill said as he stepped out of the car and came up behind me. Horatio
appeared
out of the darkness, standing beside Baron. I checked my watch and noticed it was five minutes from show time.

As soon as I brought my eyes back up to face Baron, I heard what sounded like paper tearing, only much louder. It resounded in the air, somewhere off to my right. I felt like I was in slow motion as I turned and saw four men, dressed in grey and black uniforms, suddenly materializing from thin air. It was as if the sky had just spat them out. Clutched in their hands were firearms—some long-barreled, like rifles, and others small and short, like my Op 6. Obviously, they'd just come through a portal. But as to who they were, I had no clue. As soon as they got their bearings, they faced us and I recognized their Netherworld uniforms.

They began to fan out, forming an arc in front of what I assumed was the same portal they'd just come through.

"Who the hell are you?" Baron spat out.

"Security," the man nearest me answered, with a frown aimed at Baron before settling his gaze on me.

"And who sent you?" Baron continued, visibly affronted that whoever it was obviously didn't trust us enough to handle things on our own. Yep, must have been good ol' Dad.

"The Head of the Netherworld," the same man responded. My heart sped up as I realized what this meant for the ANC. I'd already told Caressa it would just be Baron, Horatio, and Quill to contend with. I could only hope she'd decided to beef up the ANC numbers, like I'd suggested when we spoke, or this could have a very bad outcome.

"When's the delivery?" the uniformed guard that spoke to us earlier piped up.

I glanced at my watch and realized the
Draoidheil
was due to hit any second. So where the hell was the ANC? I got the sinking feeling that maybe Caressa had failed to remember all the destination points or maybe she simply hadn't believed me?

A few seconds later, there was another sound of the air ripping apart and the night sky suddenly produced two women. They fell against the asphalt, although one quickly regained her senses and assisted the other, who seemed completely out of it, with a panic-stricken expression. They were dressed in outdated, empire-waisted gowns, the hems of which touched the ground. Their sleeves were also long, so long that they obscured their fingers. Their hair was gossamer and delicate—cascading down to their elbows and giving them an ethereal look. Not exactly like angels, but more like the girls from Little House on the Prairie. I had to assume they were Dryads.

Both Dryads stared at their surroundings as if trying to understand where they were, both becoming anxious when they saw the guards in uniform, along with Quill, Baron and then Horatio. When they spotted me, they instantly made a beeline in my direction, only to cower behind me. I imagined they weren't comfortable around men, seeing as how they'd come from a convent and all. I could hear soft whimpering and when I turned around, I realized the situation wasn't getting any better. The one with dark hair was leaning against the blond, her breathing
shallow and coming in spurts. Both of them looked petrified, their eyes wide. They clung to one another, obviously in terror.

"Is she okay?" I asked the blond, then turn
ed
to face her friend whose eyes were clamped tightly shut, her face pale, and sweat beading on her forehead.

The blond looked at me and shook her head. When she opened her mouth, words didn't come out, but sounds did. Sounds that I can only compare to the voice of Charlie Brown's teacher. So the Dryads were unable to communicate?
Fantastic
.

I couldn't concentrate on the Dryads much longer because what sounded like thunder crashed into my ears and I turned to see another man come forth from nowhere, accompanied by the same sound of ripping paper. He wasn't dressed in the garb of the guards, but he was one of my father's, all the same. He stretched his arms forward and then his torso, half of him disappearing back into the portal. When he managed to pull himself out again, he was holding a large, plastic crate.