Cruel Enchantment (18 page)

“For many years now.”

“That’s why I asked you here. I want to find out anything we can about them. I figured you’d be willing to share.”

She inclined her head. “Of course. In fact, that’s one of the reasons I came here.”

“You came seeking the Blacksmith to make a key.”

“It didn’t quite work out that way, but—”

Aeric cleared his throat. “She would have sought me out, if I hadn’t—”

The Shadow Queen raised an eyebrow. “Abducted, imprisoned, and threatened her?”

“You forgot tried to kill her,” Gabriel added with a dark look on his face for Aeric.

Emmaline didn’t like where this was going. “I killed someone he loved. Most men would have drawn and quartered me before having all the details. It’s a credit to Aeric that he backed off when he started to have doubts about the circumstances.”

“Amazing,” murmured Gabriel. “You’re willing to forgive him?”

“Like I said, I killed someone he loved. It was an accident, but the facts remain. Had I not been an assassin, Aeric’s fiancée would be alive today. Like the queen said, he was within his rights to seek revenge.”

“Please, take a seat,” said the Queen. “Do you want anything to eat or drink?”

“No, thanks.” She and Aeric sat down in the sitting area in front of the queen and Gabriel came to stand near his wife.

“Okay,” said Queen Aislinn. “Tell us about the Phaendir. Tell us why they’re so worried about the fae.”

She laughed. “They’re scared shitless of us.” She covered her mouth, horror pulsing through her veins. “
Danu
, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to—”

Queen Aislinn smiled. “Emmaline, I wasn’t always a queen. A little over a year ago I was just a member of the Seelie Court. I even swore sometimes. Don’t let the gown fool you. If I didn’t have to wear it, I’d be in jeans and a sweater, just like you.”

Emmaline relaxed. “Well, anyway, they’re frightened of us. The thought of the warding breaking and all the fae escaping, it’s like their version of Armageddon except we’re the hellfire and damnation.” She paused. “You have to understand that they think what they’re doing is right. They believe they’re protecting humanity from a scourge of evil.”

“Yes,” said Gabriel dryly. “So we’ve gathered.”

“There’s one man, named Brother Gideon. His full name is Gideon P. Amberdoyle. I’ve been watching him. I’ve been involved with the Phaendir for a long time and he’s the most dangerous of them, in my opinion. He’s pious. He
believes
, you know? That makes him trouble for the fae. He wants to see all of us exterminated from the face of the earth so that the Phaendir, alone, are considered the most unique, the chosen ones. Gods on earth. He believes his mission has been given to him by Labrai.”

“But he’s not in charge.”

She shook her head. “Not yet. Archdirector Maddoc still holds the reins, but Gideon is working on it. If he ever attains power, we all better watch out. He staged a minor coup within the power structure of the Phaendir last year, your majesty. He’s the one who sent the rogue brothers into Piefferburg to make that desperate effort to get the Book of Bindings and almost killed you in the process.”

“It was him?” Gabriel growled the words. Suddenly he didn’t seem like just a good-looking man anymore. Handsome, smooth. Now he seemed as dangerous as the sharp edge of a sword. “Why did he take such a risk?” His voice was deceptively quiet. The menace in it made her shiver.

If Brother Gideon ever came face-to-face with Gabriel, he would die for endangering Aislinn. That was clear enough.

“Two reasons,” Emmaline answered. “First, he wants Brother Maddoc’s spot. He wants more than anything to have ultimate power in the Phaendir in order to execute his agenda for the fae. Second, he wants me.”

“What?” The query exploded from Aeric.

She looked over at him. “I’ve been posing as Brother Maddoc’s assistant for the last two years. As soon as I came into the Phaendir, I saw the dynamic between Maddoc and Gideon and understood Gideon was a man I needed to watch. As a woman, I knew the best way to get close to him was to invite his regard. So I studied him, understood what best would float his boat, and became that.”

“So what . . .
floats his boat
?” Aeric growled.

She smiled and fluttered her lashes. “A demure and pious woman . . . with the heart of a slut. He requires careful handling. I flirt with him subtly, promising without outright saying that while I might be an angel on the outside, I’d be a hellcat in bed.”

“Did it work?” Something dark flittered through his eyes.

She shuddered at the thought. “I will never let it go all the way. There are things I won’t do, not even for the HFF. I’m just manipulating him for information, that’s all. He’s an evil bastard. I don’t feel bad about leading him on, not for a moment.”

“Some habits are hard to break,” said Aeric, his eyelids half lowered.

She flinched as though he’d hit her. “Maybe my morals are a little flexible, but at least my immoral behavior is serving a good purpose these days.”

WITH
one hand clutching the ancient pendant he’d found in Emily’s apartment, Brother Gideon knelt in worshipful sufferance, the lash of his beloved cat-o’-nine-tails digging into the scarred flesh of his back.

Every time he did this he was amazed he had blood left to bleed, amazed the cat could get through his thickened flesh. Yet blood trickled down his back and arms, dribbled over the necklace in his hand, and dripped to the floor. He possessed a never-ending supply for Labrai, it seemed. Sharp, sweet agony tingled through his body with every lash he delivered.

Emily had contacted Brother Maddoc. She was all right,
safe
in the Black Tower—if one could actually be safe in such a place—and had been taken under the wing of the Shadow Queen herself. It was an apparently fortuitous change of circumstance, according to Brother Maddoc.

Gideon’s hand tightened on the necklace. He wasn’t as confident. It stank to him. All of it.

Labrai curse it all!
He wanted to
believe
in Emily Millhouse. It had been so long since he’d had a woman to believe in. Not since his mother had died. No other woman had been worth the time or the trouble. All of them were worthless, using men to their advantage, lying, cheating.

Not Emily.

He plied a particularly vicious stroke of the lash to his back. His spine arched and he choked back a cry of pain. He needed that pain to help him see clearly. Just like he needed to believe Emily was just Emily. There had to be an explanation for the necklace. This flicker of suspicion he had was just some remnant from his past dealings with the women in his life. A mirage to keep him from finding happiness. Something sent by Labrai to test his faith.

That had to be it.

Right?

Trembling, his fingers clumsy with agony and uncharacteristic uncertainty, he washed the leather tails of the cat in the room’s small sink and hung it on its peg. Then he cleaned himself up as best as he could, trying not to recall all the times it had been Emily’s gentle hands that had wiped his blood away and applied the antiseptic.

After he dressed and went back to his desk, he laid the pendant down and stared at it. Dark brown blood spattered the piece of jewelry whose origins were so clouded in mystery. What was it? A family heirloom? A memento kept from some encounter with a rogue fae? A purchase Emily had made for some reason? Maybe she collected old jewelry. Maybe having a fae piece was important to her because of the symbolism—Emily hated the fae as much as he did.

Yet how could she afford such an expensive antique on her salary? He’d seen her apartment. There was no hidden fortune there.

Maybe it was time he looked into her background a little more closely, just to put his mind at ease. With a sigh of resignation, he reached for the phone. He knew just who to call.

One of the lesser brothers entered his office with his daily afternoon tea. He was a short blond man; his name was Bowen, Gideon thought. He put the phone back in its cradle, happy for the interruption. The man kept his gaze averted—as was proper—and set the tray with the teapot and cup down on a clear space on his desk.

“Brother,” said Gideon with a nod of his head. “May Labrai walk beside you through all things.”

“Brother, praise Him who sustains us through this turmoil,” Maybe-Bowen answered, bowing his head and backing out the door.

Still staring at the necklace, Gideon poured himself a cup and took a sip. The tea was far more bitter than usual. He choked down his mouthful and set the cup on its saucer, frowning at it. He was going to complain.

Looking at the phone with an equally bitter glance, he picked up the pile of papers sitting next to the blood-spattered necklace and glanced through them, composing a list of things to do for the afternoon.

His windpipe tightened and he coughed in an effort to relieve the pressure. Clearing his throat, he looked back at the papers.

An invisible vise closed around his neck, cutting off his air supply. The papers flew up into the air as he put his hands to his throat and toppled off his chair. Moaning, he collapsed to the floor. Pain slammed through his body, making the world go white and black alternately.

Poison
.

The tea had been poisoned.

Footsteps pounded to his side, making the floor shake. Brother Maddoc’s worried face entered his field of vision, his mouth opening and closing as he spoke, but Gideon couldn’t hear a word. Gideon lurched to his knees, hand out toward Maddoc as if in supplication, then his vision narrowed to a pinprick.

Gideon pitched forward onto his face.

Then even the pinprick disappeared.

 

 

AS
they left the Shadow Queen’s receiving room and entered the corridor Aeric touched his jeans pocket, verifying for the fifth time in an hour that the rough-hewn chunk of iron and his sheathed charmed iron knife were still in there. He’d already made the first incisions into what would become the key. They’d been fucking hard to make; he didn’t want to have to do it again. Carving it was going to be a bitch.

He followed Emmaline down the corridor toward his apartment. Even with her glamour on, her body remained the same and, damn, her jeans looked good on her. So did her sweater. Her shoes, too. To him, it was all just frosting he wanted to lick off so he could take a big bite of the cake underneath.

That meant she needed to get the fuck out of his life. For good.

And soon.

Damn key
.

Kolbjorn Einar Soren Halvorson came out of nowhere, barreling down the corridor like a white Satan from the Christians’ hell. His long colorless hair streamed around his massive body; his pale blue eyes were alight with rage. Aeric was a big guy, but Kolbjorn was a monster. His arms and chest were ripped like a champion bodybuilder’s and he had murder on his pockmarked face.

Aeric knew what that massive, pissed-off Scandinavian fae wanted—Emmaline’s head on a platter for killing his father.
Damn Kieran to the Netherworld and back!

Aeric was ready to fight, but Emmaline—fully awake for this attack—was ready faster than he was. She assessed the situation, leapt into the air right before Kolbjorn collided with her, and caught him in his colossal throat with the flat of her boot.

Kolbjorn gagged and fell to the floor.

“Stay down,” she ordered in a low voice while in a battle stance. Kolbjorn writhed on the floor at her feet, choking.

Aeric stared down in surprise. “I can’t believe you just did that.”

She glanced at him and then stomped her boot into Kolbjorn’s chest when he tried to roll to the side.
“Don’t move.”

“He’s one of the strongest Unseelie in the Black Tower, Emmaline, and you just laid him out.”

Kolbjorn undulated like a snake and leapt to his feet before Aeric even finished his sentence, pushing Emmaline back.

Apparently he’d spoken too soon. He hated when he did that.

Kolbjorn’s pale blue eyes fixed on Emmaline. His thin gray lips parted and he flexed his huge arms. “I can see through you. I can see right through to the heart of you
and I remember
. You killed my father, you Seelie bitch.” Kolbjorn was one of the few fae who could see through glamour. Emmaline wasn’t fooling this one with her guise.

That wasn’t Kolbjorn’s only magickical skill, either. The other he’d inherited from his father in a diluted form. Emmaline had taken out Kolbjorn’s father early in the war . . . because Kolbjorn’s father was capable of doling out death in huge numbers.

And so was Kolbjorn.

Magick prickled through the air, raising the hair on the back of his neck. Aeric groped at his side for the charmed iron weapon he didn’t have.
Fuck
. All he had on him was his little carving knife, hardly good in a fight. Kolbjorn could kill pretty damn easy with his magick and Aeric knew he couldn’t reason him out of murder the way he’d talked Kieran out of it. “Emmaline, we need to get out of here. Now.”