A Sliver of Shadow (45 page)

“The terms of their release?” My voice shook, but it was anger laced with fear. I had no way to guarantee Nobu would keep his word.

“Maurice for Talivar,” Thomas said from behind me, his words quiet with resignation. “A reopening of the CrossRoads. And … a presence here among our Court. In return, they’ll remove their forces and overlook our provocation into war.”

Maurice chuckled. “Moira for my wife, you mean.”

Talivar grunted through his gag.

“The whelp speaks. This ought to be good. Been a while since I’ve heard a talking animal attempt a logical process.” Maurice’s gaze flicked toward Brystion. “I imagine it will be just the same. One merely needs to appeal to their lower natures, after all.”

Ion’s nostrils flared. “Not worth it,” I mouthed, begging him to stay calm. If the situation exploded, I’d never be able to make this work. “I propose a different trade.”

I whirled to face the Court, my eyes meeting Moira’s. I had no time to tell her of her son’s ability to fly or the state of the Marketplace. No time for anything.

“Tresa is dead, brought to justice by the Unseelie Court. In three days, Kitsune will arrive at the gates of Faerie with the cure for the Queen’s … illness.”

A murmur erupted among the court, the Queen blinking suddenly as if she had finally noticed what was going on. She was dressed in an elegant set of robes, the silkworms’ cloth draped over her softly. At least they’d managed to do that much for her. Her nostrils flared wide. “The Unseelie Court? It no longer exists.”

“This is not my fight,” I said softly to Moira. “But I have done what I can.” I turned to the Queen. “My lady, I beg thee to grant my boon, owed to me for saving your daughter and grandchild nearly a year ago.” That I had saved them from said asshole sitting behind me was something I didn’t feel like mentioning, but the truth of it hung there.

The Queen frowned, her fingers knotting in the corners
of her dress. “And what boon would you ask? I cannot grant freedom to my son over the needs of my kingdom. I have no choice but to give the daemons the mortal they claim.”

I went still, my voice sounding so terribly loud inside my head. “Yes. So trade me, instead.”

Behind me Talivar made a sharp noise, echoed by Ion’s own growl of disbelief. I couldn’t look at Melanie or Moira or Phin or my father. I’d lose my nerve if I did.

“You?” Confusion warred with a sudden shrewd awareness upon the Queen’s face. I could see her working it through her mad little brain. By trading me, she’d get rid of the by-blow who reminded her of her lover’s faithlessness. She’d get Talivar
and
she’d be able to keep Maurice.

Moira froze. “The Devil’s Tithe,” she whispered, horror upon her face. “You mean to reinstate the Tithe. Abby, you can’t do that.”

Nobu’s eyes lit up. “But she already has, Princess. And we have agreed to it. One mortal every seven years in return for peace. Assuming the Queen allows?”

“Take me instead,” Melanie shrieked, launching herself from the corner of the room to my side. “I’m already damned anyway.”

“Exactly why we won’t bother with you,” Nobu said coldly. There was a flicker of something else shining in his eyes, but it was gone before I could really see it. “You’re a sure thing.”

She winced, clutching me by the shoulders, her voice a gibbering buzz in my ear. I shut her out, concentrated on my breathing. I was giving myself to the Devil to save my family. My heart vibrated with the thought.

The Queen sat up straight. “Done,” she announced. “I grant thee thy boon. Thy life for my son’s and the usual terms of tithing to be applied.”

My father stiffened, his eyes full of anguish, but I shook
my head at him. He hadn’t bothered trying to protect me for most of my life. Why would he start now?

“And Ion too,” I said. “The incubus must be part of the deal.”

“Now you’re going and changing the terms,” Nobu scolded. “In which case I’ve got a few of my own to apply.”

Maurice reddened in fury, his eyes narrowing as they darted between me and the daemon. “You sold me out.”

“You’re a sure thing too,” Nobu said. “And the Master can wait a
very
long time. Besides, Abby drives a rather hard bargain.” He steepled his fingers, glancing at me. “I will throw in the incubus as an act of good faith, but you must drink a cup of lethe upon completion.” He eyed my necklace. “As much as I’d like to fully trust your word, you’ve got the ability to transfer between worlds in an instant with such a device. Even with the CrossRoads open, we’d hardly be able to find you if you take it in your head to flee.”

I froze. Going into my doom knowingly was one thing… but to drink the water of forgetfulness first? From a sacrificial standpoint I got it—much easier to make the victims pliable. But as part of a plan execution, it sucked—especially since that was pretty close to what I’d intended.

He laughed when he saw my expression. “Good try, Abby.”

“The Tithe rules declare she has seven years with us,” the Steward interrupted. “It’s on us if we do not produce her at the specified time.”

Nobu shrugged. “Abby did not specify such terms when she haggled herself over to me, therefore I am not required to follow those stipulations. I choose to collect the Tithe now.”

Melanie placed a trembling hand on his arm. “Please. At least let us say good-bye.”

The daemon stiffened beneath her touch, his upper lip
curling. “Seven weeks, I grant you,” he snarled. “And that shall have to be enough. Is that a bargain?”

I nodded, the tinkling laugh of the mad Queen punctuating the following silence. “Release my son and the incubus and I shall open the CrossRoads as the first part is sealed.”

Nobu snapped his fingers, and immediately the two men were brought forward, still bound. I took a step toward them despite myself, but the Queen slid out of her throne to crouch beside her son.

“What I did, I did to protect thee. To protect thy sister. To protect our kingdom.” Lifting her face, she exhaled softly.

“This is on your head,” she said to me. “Thou bastard daughter of thy unfaithful father.”

Before I could respond, she blew out, a golden nimbus scattering from her lips like faded dust motes. It deafened me, as though all air had been sucked from the room into a perfect vacuum. My bones shuddered with her voice.

Talivar and Phineas had spoken of a crying sound when the CrossRoads were first closed. I hadn’t heard it then, but it had surely been the Queen. How much it had cost her to do such a thing? The power fluctuated a moment more and then swept past us like a hollow wind, leaving a trail of silver sparkles and a low hum in its wake.

“Moon dust will cover you,” I muttered. The hum was coming from behind me. Melanie’s violin, I realized as sound became more vibrant. Controlled by her steady hand, it dipped and soared, swirling through the room like a soft sigh, tipped with deadly promise.

The Wild Music had been released.

The daemons eyed her warily. Nobu grasped her arm, silencing the music. “You cannot break this Contract.”

“You have
no
idea what I can do.”

“You forsake all that has been spoken in doing so,” he
said quietly. With a cry of frustration, she turned away, bitter tears in her eyes.

He leaned over my shoulder from behind, so that his lips brushed against my ear. His fingers played in the loose strands of my hair, grazing the back of my neck.

“You’ve played your part admirably,” he murmured. “But the lethe is for your protection as well as mine. I took the liberty of ensuring we had some on hand.”

“This isn’t quite what I had in mind.”

“I’m a daemon. We’re not exactly known for our integrity. But you’ve kept my little bird safe, and that’s worth far more than you know.”

I fought the urge to spit at him, the realization of what I’d just done ringing through my ears. Another daemon brought a silver-lined goblet and a glass flask before me. A murky substance swirled within. Carefully, they poured until the liquid kissed the rim.

“Drink it all,” Nobu said, his eyes holding mine.

“Abby, you don’t have to do this.” Phineas trotted toward me, his horn glowing with its own silver light.

“Yes, I do.” I tried to give him a smile and failed miserably. “And you all better figure out a way to get me out of this mess.” I glanced at Talivar and then Ion, my hands beginning to tremble.

Their faces burned into my retinas, until all I saw was the blue of Talivar’s brilliant gaze even as Ion’s golden one seared into my memory. I held myself there, balanced upon the precipice of loss and sorrow, anger and love.

“No regrets.”

I drank.

Turn the page for a special preview of the exciting third installment in the Abby Sinclair series by Allison Pang

A TRACE OF MOONLIGHT

Coming soon from Pocket Books!

T
he fog eddied into the darkness to cocoon me in a soft haze. Something niggled at the back of my mind as I glanced down at my bare feet. They were swallowed below my calves by the mist, but the crunch of sand under my toes felt familiar. The hiss of waves slapped against the edge of a nearby shore.

Sure enough, the rolling scent of brine slipped past on a tattered breeze. Drawn toward the sound of water, I pressed forward, an uneasy chill sending clammy fingers skittering over my skin. Clamping my arms around my shoulders, I realized I was naked.

And yet a moment later, a silk dress draped over my limbs, falling to midcalf. It should have felt strange to know the merest of thoughts took shape here … but it didn’t. My feet brushed the edges of the wet sand and I paused. I could see nothing beyond the darkness, but the warmth of the water lured me, beckoning with a soft whisper.

Flickers of memory flared up and slid away, the barest hint of scales and a cradle of blue luminescence taking form, but I shook my head and the thought scattered out of reach. Ridiculous idea, anyway. I’d never even seen a mermaid.

Another step and the foam crested past my ankles.

I hesitated.

“Abby.” A name, whispered upon the breeze. The waves rushed forward, the sudden undertow sucking me into the sand as though it might drag me into its depths. I stumbled, only to be pulled back by a hand upon my wrist.

I glanced up, frowning as I made out the features of a man. Pale skin and ebony hair whipped past his face in the wind; his eyes gazed down at me, haunted and aching and terrible. I didn’t recognize him, and yet his presence radiated warmly in the darkness.

Immediately the waves receded, leaving us in guarded silence. He stared at me a moment longer when I said nothing, something like grief creasing the corners of his mouth.

“If you enter the sea you will be devoured,” he said finally.

“Devoured?” My own voice sounded hollow, but I watched curiously as the fog lifted at the merest gesture of his hand. And then I saw the fins cutting through the surf, moonlight shattering the darkness to reveal the sharks moving like living blades in the murk. Behind us lay tall cliffs and a worn path of sand and sea grass, a series of rocky switchbacks leading away from the beach.

I swallowed hard at my own folly. “Thank you,” I murmured, my fingers finding his in the shadows to squeeze them. Abruptly he pulled away, his breath hissing as though I’d burned him.

“Who are you? Do you know where we are?”

“You’re dreaming, Abby.” His lips pursed mockingly. “And I am merely a shadow.” At my puzzled look, he sighed. “It will be safer for you away from here. Follow me.”

“Do you have a name?” The words slipped out as I dutifully trailed in his wake, bunching the dress at my hips to climb up the bluff.

“If you do not know it, I cannot tell you.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I know,” he muttered, a hint of irritation in his voice. “Believe me when I tell you this is not the way things were supposed to have been, but we have no other choice.” He glanced over his shoulder at me. “And we have very little time left.” As though to emphasize the point, he reached back to take my hand, helping me over a piece of driftwood. This time, his fingers entwined with mine. A wash of heat swept through me.

I sighed. “I’ve never had such a lucid dream before.” His grip tightened but he said nothing, leading us up the cliff and down a winding path until we came to an iron gate. It was overgrown by high weeds, shut tightly with a lock.

My inner voice was strangely silent. If it knew something, it clearly wasn’t saying anything. I frowned at the gate, reaching out to stroke the rusted flakes with a curious finger. The metal chilled my hands to the bone and I got a sense that it was unhappy with me.

Which was ridiculous. This was a dream, wasn’t it? “Knock it off,” I told it, blinking when the gate snapped open with a long-suffering creak.

“One problem solved.” The man’s eyes slid sideways toward me as I gazed up at the dilapidated house just inside.

A once-stately Victorian construct, the place had clearly seen better days. The shutters hung haphazardly, the paint peeling from the siding like strips of tattered paper. The rotting steps made a dubious whimper as we mounted them and headed for the outer porch.