Ever After (17 page)

Trish nodded. “There's a lot to sort through, a lot of signatures throughout the house. Guinevere liked to . . . uh,
entertain.
But you might be right, Gideon. The person who stabbed Guinevere was right-handed. From anything I've ever seen of his handiwork, the Huntsman is left-handed. I'll run through the evidence again and see what else I can nail down. Unfortunately, by the time I could get to the victims, I wasn't able to get anything from their final thoughts. They were too far gone by then.”

“I appreciate all your help, but I can't ask you all to ally yourselves with me,” I told them sincerely. “It's too dangerous. I'd never be able to live with myself if anything happened to any of you because you were trying to help me.”

“You're family, Gideon,” Trish informed me. “We love you, and we'll do whatever we can to help you, no matter what.”

I shook my head. “I appreciate it, but—”

I was surprised when Red reached across the table and covered my hand with hers. “You love this woman, Gideon. And you have a second chance with her if we can reverse the
fading
and get these relics she needs. Trust me, no one appreciates second chances more than I do.” She sent a meaningful glance her husband's way, receiving a nod in return. “Let us help you.”

At that moment, little Max wandered over to me and climbed up in my lap, rubbing his eyes with a yawn. He shifted around, finally finding a comfortable spot after wrapping his arms around my neck and resting his wee head upon my shoulder.

My throat grew tight as I held him, wondering if I'd ever have the chance to have a wee one of my own, a son or daughter who'd worry for me when I was out doing my duty, protecting my family with my last breath. And this extended family of mine was offering me the opportunity to take that chance, to claim the love and happiness that was almost within reach.

I heard a polite cough behind me and turned around in my chair, my heart immediately lifting at the sight of my little love standing there, still pale but smiling shyly at the roomful of strangers. “Hello, all,” she said with a little wave.

I got to my feet, little Max in my arms, and went to her, caressing her cheek with the back of my fingers. “How are ye, lass?”

She nodded, her lips trembling a little as she gazed at me. “Better.” But in spite of her words, her eyes filled with tears as she lifted a hand and tenderly smoothed Max's hair. When her gaze returned to mine, I saw a tentative spark of hope and such longing that my decision was made.

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, hoping I would be able to live with what I was about to do. “Very well,” I said. “Call Lavender.”

W
ith Lavender being well into her pregnancy, shifting wasn't an option, and the soonest she and Seth could get to Chicago in response to Trish's urgent—and intentionally vague—request for her help was the following afternoon.

My friends went out of their way to make Arabella feel welcome during our dinner at the Blues' home, keeping conversation as light as possible. But when dinner ended, I could tell Arabella's strength was waning again. And so could Trish.

“You should stay here,” she insisted as we prepared to leave. “I can monitor your condition much better that way.”

“I appreciate the offer,” Arabella assured her. “But . . . I have a home. Of sorts. I don't want to impose upon you and Nicky.”

“Forget about it,” Nicky drawled. “You're a friend now. It's no imposition. You need anything, we're here for you.”

Arabella gave each of them a big hug. When she turned to Red and Nate to offer the same, I cringed, but to my surprise, the normally standoffish Assistant Director of the FMA accepted—and even returned—Arabella's hug, however briefly.

“Take care of yourself,” she said, sending a glance my way. “And stay out of trouble. I'm gonna keep things as quiet as I can, but . . .”

I gave her a cockeyed grin. “We'll be sure to stay off your shit list.”

Red gave me an
I'll believe it when I see it
look, but her words were solemn. “I really hope so, Gid.”

“Come on,” Nicky said, clapping me on the shoulder. “Let's get you a ride home.”

When Nicky offered to arrange a ride home, I thought he meant calling us a cab. But when he took us into his massive warehouse of a garage, I found out he had something else in mind. With his trademark half-grin, he swept his arm toward the fleet of cars—classic and new—that were his pride and joy. “Take your pick, Arabella.”

Her eyes went wide. “Seriously?” When he nodded, she said, “But I can't drive. I've never bothered learning. I mean, I never thought . . .” She glanced over at me, then cleared her throat. “I never thought I'd have time.”

“Yeah, well, as soon as we get you through this, kid, I'll teach you myself—unless Gideon prefers to do the honors.” He leaned toward her and added in a stage whisper, “But I've seen him drive ... You're better off with me.”

Arabella laughed, the sound music to my ears. “Good to know.”

When she hurried off to inspect the fleet, I extended my hand to Nicky. “Thank you.”

Nicky gave me a terse nod as he shook my hand. “She's good people. I like her.” He gave me a grin. “And who'd have thought you and me would've had a . . .
colorful
past in common, what with us both bein' all respectable now?” He chuckled. “Fuckin' poetic.”

“Yeah, well, I'm persona non grata at the moment,” I reminded him as we started down the aisles in search of Arabella. “Not much respect in that. There's a shitload of circumstantial evidence from Guinevere's case that points to me.”

“Trish has good people on her team,” Nicky assured me. “They'll find out who's really to blame.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, strolling nonchalantly beside me. “And, you know, if that doesn't come out roses, then there's other ways to handle it.”

I glanced over at him, gauging his thoughts. Nicky had gone legit with his business since marrying Trish, but he still had his connections, his sway in all the right places. I knew for a fact that he'd pull whatever strings he had to if a friend was in trouble and needed a hand. I also knew that such an act of kindness on his part wouldn't come for free. It'd cost him a favor to that connection at some point, and I didn't want to be the one to put him in a position to have to settle on a debt that should be wholly mine.

“I appreciate that, Nicky,” I told him, “but I'm not letting you put your neck on the line for me. No offense.”

Nicky turned his mouth down in the equivalent of a shrug. “I can respect that. But the offer stands. You need anything, Tiny, all you gotta do is ask.”

“I found it!”

Nicky and I both turned toward the sound of Arabella's voice. She was standing a few yards down the aisle from us, her face pale and wan but beaming with excitement. I couldn't help grinning, the smile on her face lifting my heart like nothing else could.

Nicky whistled in appreciation when he saw the car she'd chosen. “I knew I liked this gal,” he said with a chuckle. “She's got an eye for
badass
.”

“That I do,” Arabella said with a wink at me. She then turned with a bounce in her step and ran her palm along the long sleek fender of the black 1967 Chevy Impala. “I think this will do quite nicely.”

A few minutes later, we said our good-byes to Nicky and I started up the engine, loving the way it growled to life. Badass was right. I rarely drove because it was unnecessary and time-consuming when I could easily shift to where I wanted or needed to go. But with Arabella still trying to regain her strength after her latest episode, shifting was the last thing she needed to be doing. Plus, I had to admit, being behind the wheel of this beautiful, powerful machine with Arabella in the seat next to me was almost enough to make me forget that she was
fading,
that our days together were numbered unless I managed to find the relics of Arthur Pendragon, and unless, by some miracle, our theory about them actually proved true.

“I'm sorry about earlier,” Arabella said, breaking the silence and bringing me out of my fantasy of a normal, boring life with the woman I loved. She turned her head toward the window, frowning. I sensed that she had more to say, so I waited, giving her the time she needed to put into words what was weighing so heavily upon her. At last she took a deep, shaky breath and said, “I'm afraid, Gideon.”

I reached over and took her hand, giving it a squeeze. “I know y'are, lass.”

Her mouth twitched at the corners in the hint of a smile. “Of course you do. How was it that I was ever able to hide anything from you before?”

Hell if I knew. Maybe it was because deception had been her livelihood. Maybe it was because I'd only seen what I wanted to see. But the fact that she was even asking made me sift through her motivations and desires, searching for what was behind her question. I hated that I mistrusted her, that I saw an ulterior motive in what might've been just an innocent question, nothing more than curiosity.

I forced a smile to hide my uneasiness. “A person's personality gives him away within seconds. And what I can't determine immediately, I can discern from feeling out his emotions. I'm an empath—I can feel what others are feeling ... kind of like a ripple in the cosmos that buffets against my senses. The more time I spend with someone, the quicker I can respond to their needs. It's easier with Tales whose needs are predictable.” I cast a grin her way. “But, Arabella, lass, you're
anything
but predictable.”

“That's why you fell in love with me, isn't it?” she guessed, giving me her sauciest grin. “Because you can't always get in my head.”

I chuckled. “Wasn't your
head
I was tryin' to get into.”

She threw her head back with a laugh that would've convinced me she wasn't sick at all if I hadn't known better. “Ah, now the truth comes out.”

On an impulse, I steered the car off the road and onto the shoulder and threw it into park. I twisted in my seat to face her. “You want to know why I fell in love with you?” I asked, reaching up to caress her cheek with the back of my hand. “Here y'are then. It was because you're beautiful and daring and brilliant and, yes, unpredictable. And your laugh makes me want to be near you, just for the chance to hear it again. And your smile . . .” I took a deep breath and blew it out on a sharp sigh. “I've never known another quite like it. Nothing gives me more pleasure than seeing y'smile.”

She arched an eyebrow at me, her grin growing. “Nothing?”

My cock went hard in an instant, ready to call me a liar. “Well,” I drawled, my heart beginning to race as she undid her seatbelt to slide across the seat toward me, “perhaps there's one or two other things I can think of.”

I scooted out from behind the wheel and pulled her onto my lap, taking hold of her hips when she straddled me.

“Hmm,” she taunted, “I wonder what those ‘one or two other things' might be. . . .” She was still grinning when she took my face in her hands and pressed her lips to mine in a lingering kiss. “Is that one of them?”

I turned my eyes upward, mulling it over. “I'm not entirely certain. Perhaps you should give it another go. Just t'be sure.”

She kissed me again, longer this time. “And now?” she asked, pulling back and lifting an eyebrow at me. “What say you?”

I closed my eyes for a moment, groaning with frustration. My voice was deeper than usual when I ground out, “I say it's time to get y'home.”

With a wicked grin, she scrambled back to her seat, and I threw the car into drive, buckling my seatbelt as I drove. Considering I was confined to two tons of steel, I made remarkable time and my heart was pounding with anticipation when I pulled into the deserted parking lot outside the theater. Arabella was giggling when I pulled open her door and swept her out of the car, carrying her up the steps to the theater's entrance. I sent out a sharp word of magic, tripping the locks and swinging open the door.

Arabella kicked the door shut as I swung her inside and threw her head back with a laugh at my urgency. But the moment we entered the auditorium, the laughter died on her lips, and I slowly lowered her to her feet as I surveyed the room, my senses immediately on alert.

“Oh, my God,” Arabella breathed, her hand going to her mouth as she sank down into the nearest seat.

The place had been ransacked. Arabella's meticulously arranged collection of props and Tale relics were strewn about the room as if a tornado had ripped through the confines of the theater. The clothes were in tatters. The furniture destroyed. The shelves of antiques tipped over, their contents shattered.

As my initial shock wore off, another, more urgent emotion washed over me. “How the hell did someone get by your protection spell?”

“I didn't have a protection spell,” she admitted, her voice shaking. “I didn't know I could do such a thing.”

I tore my gaze away from the mess in the theater to turn my frown toward her. “Merlin didn't teach you one?”

She shook her head. “We hadn't really gotten to such complicated spells yet.”

“Where are Arthur's relics?” I asked. “Were any of them in here with the other items you'd located?”

She shook her head. “No, they were all hidden in my room. Except for the ring.” She held up her hand to show me it was still safely on her finger. “And the shield and cloak that we left at Merlin's. We're still only missing five.”

I took off through the debris field before she'd even finished her sentence, anxious to see if the items that were critical to her survival had been spared. I heard Arabella calling after me but didn't slow my pace. More familiar with the theater, she caught up quickly and was holding my hand when we reached her bedroom. The door stood ajar, the light from the hallway spilling inside to illuminate the pile of items that littered the floor.

I gently nudged her back against the wall with one arm, then, with my free hand, slowly pushed open the door. As it swung inward, I scanned the darkness, preparing for a fight, but whoever had tossed the place was long gone. Satisfied that there was no danger lurking in the darkness, I snapped my fingers, my magic flipping on the lights.

I should've left them off.

From behind me, Arabella choked on a gasp of horror and anger. She barreled by me into the room and began to frantically sift through the clothes and other items that littered the floor. She lifted up floorboards, false bottoms in drawers, cleverly disguised cubbies, quickly gathering together the relics she'd amassed. When she'd finished, she surveyed the pile of items.

“Nothing's missing,” she murmured, her brow furrowed in confusion. “Whoever did this didn't manage to find any of my father's relics.”

“Perhaps we interrupted his search,” I suggested The thought that he could've been there when we arrived, waiting to attack when we entered, put me on edge. Hell, for all we knew, he could still be there somewhere, watching us right now. My muscles tensed, preparing for a battle that might or might not come. I slowly scanned the room, searching now with new intent. I was so focused, I didn't realize Arabella had resumed her search through the debris.

“Where is it?” she muttered. “Where the hell is it?”

Unfortunately, I didn't need to ask what she was looking for. The moment she asked the question, I sensed the item's absence. “Gone,” I told her, hating to have to deliver the news and wishing I was mistaken.

She shook her head vehemently. “No!” she cried, her voice tight with emotion. “It can't be.”

“Arabella—”

She dropped to her hands and knees, shoving aside books. “It has to be here, Gideon.”

I went to her and knelt down beside her, taking hold of her shoulders and bringing her up to her knees, forcing her to stop her panicked search. “Arabella, lass—”

“They took the mirror.” Her entire body sagged under the weight of the truth. “They took Fabrizio.”

“Not to worry,” I assured her. “I'll just send out a search spell.”

She shook her head, staring blankly at me. “I don't know what that is.”

I lifted my brows. “Merlin didn't teach you how to use a search spell either?” Before she could answer, though, I added, “Well, no, I guess he wouldn't have. He would've had to use the fairy dust necessary for it to stave off your symptoms.”