Fever 4 - DreamFever (16 page)

  I pressed. "You made me capable of walking again the only way you could. It had
nothing to do with me. That's what you're saying, right?"

  He stared at me, and I had the feeling our conversation had taken a wrong turn
somewhere, that it could have gone a completely different way, but I couldn't think of
how it might have or where it had strayed.

  He brought his head down, completing the nod. "Right."

  "Then we're on the same page. Same paragraph, same sentence," I snapped.

  "Same bloody word," he agreed flatly.

   I felt like crying and hated myself for it. Why couldn't he have said something nice?
Something that wasn't about sex. Something about me. Why had he come in here all
stalking and shoving in my face that we'd been in each other's skin? Would it have
killed him to show a little kindness, some compassion? Where was the man who'd
painted my nails? The one who had papered the room with pictures of Alina and me?
The one who had danced with me?

  Means to an end. That was all it had been for him.

   The silence lengthened. I searched his eyes. There wasn't a single word to be found
in them.

  Finally, he gave me a faint smile. "Ms. Lane," he said coolly, and those two words
spoke volumes. He was offering me formality. Distance. A return to the way things had
been, as if nothing else had ever passed between us. A fa�ade of civility that made us
able to work together when we had to.

  I'd be a fool not to accept it.

  "Barrons." I sealed the deal. Had I ever told this enigmatic, cold man that he was my
world? Had he really demanded I say it, over and over? "Why are you here? What do
you want?" I was exhausted, and our little run-in was swiftly depleting my last stores of
energy.

   "You might start by thanking me." There was that dangerous look in his eyes again,
as if he felt taken advantage of. He felt taken advantage of? I was the one who'd been at
her weakest, not him.

  "For what? For finding something else that was so important to do that it took you all
the way from midnight on Samhain `til four days later to come for me? I'm not going to
thank you for saving me from something you failed to save me from to begin with." I'd
asked Dani on the way back to the abbey when he and his men had broken me out.
She'd said late in the evening on November 4. Why? Where had he been, and why not
with me?

   He lifted a shoulder, shrugged, grace and power in an elegant Armani suit. "You look
fine to me. In fact, you're better than fine, aren't you? You walked right through my
wards, without a word. Didn't even leave a note by the bedside. Really," he mocked,
"after all we shared, Ms. Lane." He gave me a wolf smile, all teeth and promise of
blood. "But do I get any thanks for doing the impossible and bringing you back from
being Pri-ya? No. What do I get?" He eyed me coldly. "You steal my guns."

  "You snooped in my bus!" I said indignantly.

  "I'll snoop anywhere I damned well please, Ms. Lane. I'll snoop inside your skin if I
feel like it."

  "You just try," I said, eyes narrowing.

  He moved forward in one swift, violent lunge but caught himself and locked down
hard.

  I mirrored the move, without conscious thought at all, as if our bodies were
connected by puppet strings. Lunged forward, froze. Fisted my hands at my sides. They
wanted to touch him. I looked down. His hands were fisted, too.

  I uncurled my hands and crossed my arms.

  He crossed his at exactly the same moment.

  We both practically flung them down at our sides.

  We stared at each other.

  The silence lengthened.

  "Why did you take my guns?" he said finally.

   His question snapped me fully awake again. I was dangerously tired. "I needed them.
Figured it was the least you could give up after all the sex you got," I added, with
flippancy I didn't feel.

  "You think you can steal from me? You're out of control, Rainbow Girl."

  "Don't call me that!" She was dead. And if she wasn't, I'd have killed her myself.

  "And you know it."

  "You're the one who's out of control," I said, just to irritate him.

  "I'm never out of control."

  "Are, too."

   "Am--" He broke off and looked away. Then, disbelievingly, "Bloody hell, have you
learned nothing?"

  "What was I supposed to learn, Barrons?" I demanded. My temper, already a frayed
rope, snapped. "That it's a sucky world out there? That people will take everything from
you that matters, if you let them? That if you want something, you'd better hurry and
get it, because odds are somebody else wants it, too, and if they can beat you to it they
will? Or was I supposed to learn that it's not only okay to kill but sometimes it can be
downright fun? That was a real kicker to find inside your head. Want to talk about it?
Share a little intimacy with me? No? Didn't think so. How about this: The more
weapons, knowledge, and power you can get your hands on, any way you can, the
better. Lie, cheat, or steal, it all comes out in the wash. Isn't that what you think? That
emotion is weakness and cunning priceless? Wasn't I supposed to become like you?
Wasn't that the point?" I was shouting, but I didn't care. I was furious.

  "That was never the point," he snarled, moving toward me.

   "Then what was it? What the bloody hell was the point? Tell me there was some kind
of point to all this!" I snarled back, stepping toward him.

  We charged each other like bulls.

  An instant before we collided, I shouted, "Did you help the LM turn me Pri-ya just to
make me stronger?"

  His head snapped back, and he stopped so suddenly that I slammed into him, bounced
off, and sprawled on my ass. On the floor. Again.

   He stared down at me, and for a split second I saw a completely unguarded look in
his eyes. No. He hadn't. Not only hadn't he, this ... man, for lack of a better word ...
who enjoyed killing, was horrified by the thought of it.

  A terrible tension inside me eased. Breath came more easily.

   I stayed on the floor, too drained to get back up. There was another of those long,
strained silences.

  I sighed.

  He took a deep breath. Released it.

  "I would have given you the guns," he said finally.

  "I should have asked for them," I admitted grudgingly. "But then you probably would
have spiked them with something deadly, same way you did the Orb, and I'd have
gotten blamed for that, too," I couldn't resist adding.

  "I didn't spike the Orb. I bought it at an auction. Somebody set me up."

  He said it with such a complete lack of heat that I almost believed him.

  There was another long silence.

  He slid a bag from his shoulder, dropped it at my feet. It was my backpack.

  "Where'd you get that? I didn't see it in the room when I left, and I hunted for it." I'd
wondered where it had gone.

  "Found it here at the abbey while I was waiting for you to get back."

  I frowned. "How long have you been here?"

   "Since late last night. I spent all day yesterday trying to find you. By the time I
tracked you here, you'd left again. Easier to wait for you to come back than waste time
tracking you again."

   "Doesn't your trusty little brand work?" I rubbed the base of my skull where he'd
stamped his mystical tattoo. The one that had failed me when I'd needed it.

  "I can sense your general direction, but I can't get a solid lock on you. Haven't been
able to since the walls came down. It's working more like a compass than a GPS, now
that Fae realms have splintered ours."

  "IFPs. I call them Interdimensional Fairy Potholes."

  He smiled faintly. "Funny girl, aren't you?"

  We lapsed into another uncomfortable silence. I looked at him. He looked away. I
shrugged and looked away, too.

  "I wasn't--" I began.

  "I didn't--" He began.

   "How charming," V'lane cut us off. His voice arrived before he did. "The very
portrait of human domestic bliss. She's on the floor, you're towering over her. Did he
strike you, MacKayla? Say the word and I'll kill him."

   It annoyed me to think V'lane might have been hanging around, invisible,
eavesdropping on us. I gave him a sharp look when he appeared. My hand slipped
instantly inside my coat, searching for my spear, holstered beneath my arm. It was gone.
V'lane never let me keep it in his presence, but he always returned it when he left. I
hated that he had the power to take my weapon. What if he didn't give it back? What if
he decided to keep it for his race? Surely he would have taken the spear and the sword
months ago, if he'd wanted them. He'd give it back this time, too, I thought coolly.
Otherwise the almighty Book detector would tell him to piss off.

  "As if you could," said Barrons.

  "Perhaps not. But I do enjoy thinking about it."

  "Bring it on, Tinker Bell."

  I stood up.

  V'lane laughed, and the sound was angelic, celestial. Although he no longer affected
me sexually, he still packed that otherworldly punch. Regal, larger than life, he would
always be too beautiful for words. He was dressed differently than I'd ever seen him,
and it suited his golden perfection. Like Barrons, he wore an elegant dark suit, crisp
white shirt, and blood-red tie.

  "Get your own fashion adviser," Barrons growled.

  "Maybe I decided I like your style."

  "Maybe you thought if you were more like me, she'd fuck you, too."

  I flinched, but my reaction was nothing compared to V'lane's.

   I was frozen for a moment, stiffer than the Tin Man without oil. I gave a full body
shudder, and ice tinkled to the floor. I stepped forward, leaving my frosty casing behind.
The entire library--furniture, books, floor, lamps, walls--glistened with a thin sheet of
ice. The bulbs popped, one after the next.

  "Stop it," I snapped, breath frosting the air. "Both of you. You're tough guys. I get it.
But I'm tired and fed up. So say whatever you came here to say, without all the
posturing, then get the hell out."

  Barrons laughed. "Good for you, Ms. Lane."

  "Bottom-line it, Barrons. Now."

  "Get your things. We're going back to Dublin. We have work to do. The sidhe-seers
didn't save you. I did."

  "It was Dani who rescued me."

  "You would have died here if not for me."

  "I would have saved her," said V'lane.

   "Bottom-line it, V'lane. And mop up your mess." The ice was melting. "I'm not
cleaning up after either of you. And fix the lamps. I need light."

  The lamps glowed again. The library was dry. "The Book was spotted recently. I
know where and can sift you about, hunting it. You can track it much more quickly with
me than with him."

  "And you'll report to the Grand Mistress on our progress?" I said dryly.

  "I aided Rowena only to pave the way for us to continue the moment you were able. I
answer to you, as always, MacKayla. Not her."

   "After your queen," I said bitterly. "The one you chose to stay with instead of
rescuing me."

  "You were first to me," Barrons said. "There was no queen in front of you with me."

   "Right. No queen--just four days," I reminded. "I don't believe it took you that long
to find me. Care to tell me where you were the whole time? What did come before me?"

  He said nothing.

  "I didn't think so."

  I crossed the room and moved to stand by the fireplace. It was the old-fashioned kind,
made for logs, with no gas hookup. V'lane's temper tantrum had left me chilly. It had
been a cold night in Dublin, and this unused wing was minimally heated. I missed my
bookstore fires. I wanted comfort. "Make me a fire, V'lane."

  Flames crackled and popped from white-barked, fragrant-smelling logs before I'd
even finished speaking.

  "I will provide for all your needs, MacKayla. You have but to ask. Your parents are
well. I have seen to it. Barrons cannot give you what I can."

  I rubbed my hands together, warming them. "Thank you for checking. Please
continue to do so." At some point, I wanted to see them, if only from a distance. Even if
the cell towers had been up, I wasn't sure I could have spoken to them right now. I was
no longer the daughter they'd known. But I was the daughter who loved them and
would do everything in my power to protect them. Even if that meant staying away, so
none of my enemies could follow me there.

   I turned around. V'lane was on my right, Barrons at my left. I was amused to see that
a sofa, four chairs, and three tables had appeared in the twenty-five feet between them.
V'lane had rearranged furniture while my back was turned. As if a little furniture would
stop Jericho Barrons. He could move lightning-fast, and there was no love lost between
these two. For the umpteenth time, I wondered why. I knew neither of them would ever
tell me.

  Still, there might be a way ...

  In the meantime, while I stockpiled my flagging energy for the attempt, I said, "Bring
me up to speed. What happened at the Keltars' on Samhain?"

  "The ritual to maintain the walls failed," said Barrons.

  "Obviously. Details."

   "We used dark magic. We tried everything. The Keltar come from a line of Druids
that have long been walking a fine line. Especially Cian. Dageus and Drustan made the
first attempt. When that failed, Christian and I took our turn."

  "What exactly did your `turn' constitute?"

  "Don't ask, Ms. Lane. This time just leave it. It was the only thing we could have
done that might have worked. It didn't. It's no longer relevant."

  I dropped the subject. I'd get more detail from Christian than I'd ever get from
Barrons, and I planned to see him as soon as possible. He was an integral part of my
plans for the future.

  As if he'd read my mind, Barrons said, "Christian is gone."