Harlequin Nocturne May 2015 Box Set: Wolf Hunter\Possessed by a Wolf (47 page)

Another handful of minutes passed, bringing his impatience to search for Lexie to a boil. There was little to see from his position under the dense branches. A tiny moth fluttered past his nose. And then he saw feet. Two men and a woman, by the shoes.

“Where is the fetch of the prince?” said a female voice Faran didn't know. They were in the middle of a conversation that didn't sound friendly.

“Lost,” the man said in a sulky tone. “The fetch was chased just before that fool Maurice's charity concert.”

“Chased by whom?” asked the woman. From his hiding place, Faran couldn't make out her whole figure, but he saw she was carrying a basket. She dipped her hand into it and pulled out a tiny glass dish with a candle inside. She set it on the edge of the circle of mosaic tiles.

“The man sleeping with Haven's daughter. Kenyon. He bears watching,” the man replied. “He is one of the Company.”

So the fey know who I am
. That was bad enough, and the reference to Lexie stung like hot silver.

The woman took out another candle and set it a few feet from the first, then repeated the gesture, working her way around the circle in quick, efficient movements. She'd clearly done this before.

“Ambrose believes this lover killed the fetch.” This time it was the other man who spoke, and the voice turned Faran cold. There was no anger or urgency in it, but just the opposite. Cold. Inhuman. It was like listening to a glacier speak.

“Hello, hello.” A fourth voice sang out.

Faran's ears pricked forward in surprise.
Maurice?

“You're late,” said the woman. She'd set candles all around the circle. Faran could see her fully now, a figure in a pale cloak. She snapped her fingers. The magic surged, making Faran twitch, and the candles lit in a single flare of flame. The tiny glass squares of the mosaic glistened like water, catching the candlelight and throwing it back to the night. The woman set the candle basket down and picked up a second, laying out implements in the middle of the circle. A scythe, a bowl, delicate silver manacles and a long-bladed knife.

Maurice was watching the woman's every move, but if the contents of the basket bothered him, he gave no sign. He clapped his hands, nail polish glittering. “Got the ring? Got the girl? Where's Leo? Let's keep this snappy. My set's at midnight.”

Faran's ears went back. A crawling disbelief raised the hair of his ruff. He'd truly believed Maurice was on their side, but tonight was the night for disappointments. He thrust his nose forward a notch to see better. Maurice was pacing back and forth, his stage costume glimmering in the glow of the candles.

“You can be late. We are freeing a kingdom, fool,” said the ice-voiced man.

“Tell that to my manager,” said Maurice, the tiniest bit of ice in his own tone. “So, did you find the ring?”

Faran's head hurt. Maurice was the one who'd told him about the tourists finding the ring after Leo dropped it on the croquet lawn. Clearly he was playing both sides. Or neither side. Or his own side.

The sulky man answered. “We think the Haven girl knows where the ring is. Ambrose is questioning her.”

Faran's limbs lost all feeling. Images flashed through his brain in rapid sequence—Lexie in chains, torture, dungeons. He barely stifled a snarl.

“Tell Ambrose to bring the girl and that fool Leopold,” said the ice-voiced man. “My queen awaits, locked behind the iron gates of treachery. Let us do this thing and set the Dark Lady free.”

“The Haven girl will not speak.”

“I can make her talk,” said the ice-voiced man. “Go tell Ambrose to bring her here, and be quick about it. We don't have much time.”

Faran heard a long-suffering sigh. “Fine.”

With that, the first man left at a walk, as if refusing to be cowed. Faran ghosted after him on silent paws, retribution in his heart.

Chapter 27

L
exie swore she'd never eat marmalade again. At some point during her violent encounter with Ambrose, several jars had fallen and smashed, permeating the air with the sticky-sweet smell. It clung to the back of her throat, making her cough.

She hurt all over, but at least nothing was broken. One good thing about Ambrose's temper tantrum was that he'd freed her chains from the wall. When she'd finally gathered her limbs and tried to move, she had been able to search the prison-pantry for a way out. It became immediately clear that the first step to freedom was getting out of the chains. They were insanely heavy.

The next twenty minutes she'd spent trying to pick the locks on the iron cuffs. So far she'd tried improvising a pick from an earring, and then the smashed-up lid of a marmalade jar. If she possessed any magic that could have helped, it was effectively blocked. The chains were pure cast iron, apparently forged for someone Faran's size, by the size and weight of the cuffs.

Lexie paused.
I've been thinking about this all wrong
. She knocked the wax out of the marmalade jar and scooped out a glob of the gooey orange stuff. If the room had smelled of Seville oranges before, now she choked on it. She slathered it over her hand, praying her idea would work. Soap or hand lotion worked to get rings off. Why not marmalade?

She folded her hand as small as it would go and tucked the cuff under her opposite arm. And then she pulled. The cuff slid down over her knuckles and then jammed, cramping her thumb. With a curse, she jerked and hauled. She felt skin scraping off her knuckles and hoped bitter orange was a good disinfectant. She pulled and pulled, eyes streaming with the pain, but she thought of facing Ambrose again. Anger helped. Then she thought of Faran walking into their rooms and finding her gone. The look on his face. It shrank the pain to a pinprick.

Her hand finally wriggled free. Lexie dropped the sticky, bloody cuff to the floor with a gasp, stuck her wounded hand in the marmalade jar, and started on the other side.

By the time she was free, she was exhausted and bruised, her eyes streaming from tears of pain. But she'd just taken the first step. The door was the next challenge. She picked up her collection of improvised lock picks and started to work, but it was hopeless. Nothing she had was strong enough to manipulate the ancient iron hardware.

Frustration got the better of her. Lexie slumped against the door, swearing under her breath. Her gaze roved over the room again, looking for an easier solution. And then it caught on a shadow she hadn't seen before.

She rose to investigate, running her hands along the wall. This side of the room was wallpaper rather than tile, decorated in a faded geometric print. She could feel a bump just next to the shelving and about five feet off the ground. A panel. The print had all but hidden it.

Lexie knocked on the wall, ignoring the sticky feel of her hands. The panel sounded hollow. She knew they were somewhere in the palace, and the palace had secret passages. A flicker of excitement revived her. If this was a way out, it was worth a try.

She used the broken jar lid to cut the paper around the panel, and then pushed, hoping the wood was rotten enough to give way. To her surprise, a catch clicked and the panel swung open an inch. But only an inch. The hinges were rusted.

Lexie had to pull hard to make an opening big enough to crawl through, which was barely enough to admit any light from the pantry. Maybe that was a blessing. What she could see was a mass of cobwebs and dust that roiled her stomach. A shudder rolled over her as she ducked and plunged into the disgusting mess. But then—there was light far ahead. Light meant a way out.

She crept into the passage, not letting herself stop until the tiny passage merged with another. Here, her way was cleaner and not so cramped. The light ahead grew brighter. Soon enough, though, she saw what the light was. A lantern sat on the hard stone floor, and next to it sat Prince Leo, bound hand and foot and gagged with a piece of tape.

Shock surged through Lexie, and she froze in her tracks. She and Leo were in the same predicament, and whatever stupid things Leo had done, she was instantly on his side.

She crouched next to him. His eyes flared, telegraphing hope and a plea. Gone was the haughty, temperamental prince. He was scared out of his wits.

“Don't worry,” she said. “I'll get you out of here.” And she reached for the tape to free his mouth.

“I wouldn't do that if I were you,” came a familiar voice.

Lexie spun around. It was her stranger from the concert hall, but this time he was facing her. She knew the body, the way he carried himself, but he was wearing a mask. Nothing fancy, just a black silk affair that covered his face from forehead to chin. A hooded sweatshirt covered his hair and neck. Whoever he was, he liked his privacy. The disguise did nothing for Lexie's nerves.

“What happened to you?” the man asked, sounding genuinely curious.

She ignored that and pointed at Leo. “Why is he here, like this?”

“He was Ambrose's prisoner. Now he's mine. What are you doing here?” He said it conversationally, as if they'd met at the grocery store. She'd seen just enough of the Company to know that was their way. Rescuing prisoners was just another day at the office—but was the stranger really a Company man? Was that something she dared question to his masked face?

She opted to play it safe. “Ambrose had me, too.”

The stranger sucked in air with a hiss. “Thank God you got away.”

“Yeah. It was exactly like you said. He wanted me for their ritual.” She looked at Leo. “But why him?”

Leo's eyes tracked from Lexie to the man. They were wide enough to see white all around the iris.

“Prince Leopold was their dupe. They made him one of the Five long enough to get what they needed, and now they mean to use him as their puppet on the throne. I've been tempted to leave this idiot at their mercy.” The masked figure reached down, slashing the ropes that bound Leo's ankles with one slice of a wicked-looking knife. “I didn't realize they'd caught you or I would have rescued you first.”

Despite the strange circumstances, something about the way he said it amused her. “That's very kind.”

He gave a slight, almost sarcastic, bow. “But, all things considered, you don't look like you need help.”

“It's been touch and go, but thanks. It's good to know I have a man inside,” she looked around. “Inside the walls, anyway.”

He chuckled. “Now I need to get this fool to his father.” Leo made a frantic noise—he clearly didn't want to see King Targon—but the masked man grabbed him by the collar and heaved him upright.

“Just one question,” Lexie said.

The man paused. “Yes?”

“Do you know what happened to my father?”

The figure froze, as if he'd been caught in some illicit act. This man knew something about her father.

Then he gave a careless shrug. “Someday we'll talk about that, Little Red, but right now there are secrets to keep. I hope you can respect that. I hope you can keep mine.”

Lexie's heart leaped in her throat. She fell back a step. “I can. I will.”

And, in that moment, he'd let her know who he was.
Impossible
. But it was. All the small gestures, the tone of his voice, the set of his head suddenly clicked into the familiar place in her memory, and it explained so much. Her stranger definitely was a Company man, through and through.

And yet she couldn't let on what she'd just figured out. Not in front of the prince, who was watching them with voracious interest. He hadn't missed her moment of surprise.

Lexie cleared her throat. Ten thousand questions crashed into her mind, but she went for the obvious. “By the way, how do I get out of here?”

He gave a short laugh. “Do you want the easy way or the smart way?”

The easy way was going with him, which he freely admitted might end in a confrontation with other members of the Five. They'd be looking for their missing prince. Lexie picked the smart way—a bit of a tour through the tunnels to emerge in the palace kitchens. How hard could that be?

Really hard, it turned out. It was a confusing, filthy warren. Lexie crawled through the tunnels for at least another half hour. By the time she reached what she thought was her destination, she almost yearned for the easy way, gunfire, black magic and all. But there was the secret panel to freedom, low in the wall just like the directions said.

But the moment she opened the secret panel, she knew she'd taken the wrong route. A wash of conversation swirled around her, along with the scent of hors d'oeuvres and expensive perfume. This wasn't the kitchens—she was back in the freshly repaired reception room where the ring had first been stolen and where Faran had leaped back into her life, hunting hounds on his tail.

And it was no quieter than it had been that first night. Outside the huge glass windows, fireworks fountained into the sky, snapping and cracking like gunfire. The room was packed with elegantly garbed men and women sipping champagne and watching the show. Lexie's only comfort was that the secret panel was behind the grand piano, which sat idle. She was able to close the passage behind her and find her feet before someone noticed she'd popped out of the wall.

She began to inch toward the door when she saw Chloe in a backless white dress fastened at the neck with a rhinestone collar. Lexie inched closer. “
Pst
! Chloe!”

Chloe turned, her eyes going wide at Lexie's appearance. She marched over, putting herself between the crowd and Lexie to shield her from curious stares. “What are you doing? You look like a chimney sweep! And what's that all over your hands?”

Lexie looked down. Her hands were gloved in filth-coated marmalade and blood. She squeezed her eyes shut and fought an inappropriate urge to giggle. “It's a long story. I need to find Faran and clean up.”

“I'll get you to your room.”

Chloe was using a gentle voice that said Lexie appeared to be having a breakdown—which sounded like a fine idea. Lexie grabbed Chloe's champagne glass and drained it in two swallows.

“Yeah, no,” Lexie replied. “My room is a terrible idea because they know how to get in.”

“They?” Chloe asked, her voice going hard. “You're in some kind of trouble, aren't you? Never mind. Whatever. Come with me.”

Lexie didn't argue. She was too tired to launch into an explanation of strange men in the walls, not to mention blood rituals in the maze. She passed the glass to a slack-jawed waiter and obediently trailed after her friend, careful not to touch anything.

They'd nearly made it out when she saw a wolf run past the window. “Faran!”

Chloe had seen it, too. And then she saw Sam sprinting after, Maurice at his side. Chloe ran to one of the side doors and opened it. “Sam!”

“Let me past,” Lexie demanded, and Chloe obliged. “Faran!”

Lexie stepped into the garden. Her shadow, backlit by the lights of the reception room, stretched like a giant across the lawn until another Roman candle exploded in the sky, washing everything away in lurid brightness. She looked around for a wolf, but there were none in sight.

Lexie wandered a little farther, grateful to the darkness that hid her filthy state. She was tired and dirty and bruised, but she was winning. She'd made it out of Ambrose's clutches, shed her chains and escaped to safety through secret passages. Not bad for a night's work.

Now all she could think of was telling Faran that he'd been tricked, that she was here and waiting for him and wanting him by her side. Then everything would be perfect.

Another barrage of fireworks went off in the sky, making a bouquet of chrysanthemums. In the flare of light she saw Ambrose leaning against the wall, breathing hard. He saw her and his lips peeled back in a grimace. “You have more lives than a cat, Alexis.”

“So it was you my friends were chasing,” she guessed.

“They caught my servant as he came to look for me, but that is all. The truly important among us escaped, and we'll have our revenge on that turncoat musician. No one crosses the fey and lives long to brag of it.”

Lexie had no idea what he was talking about, but she was really tired of this guy. She cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled at the top of her lungs. “Hey, Faran, Sam, over here!”

Ambrose hissed, a noise that no one with a human face should ever make. And as he did, he raised his hand and clutched it tight, making a fist so tight it shook with the strain of his muscles.

Lexie stopped breathing. Her hands flew to her throat, but there was nothing to grab and pull loose. She clawed at the invisible bonds that strangled her, but the world got darker. She was aware of Chloe running across the lawn in her bare feet, white dress billowing like an angel's robes. Lexie dropped to her knees, losing strength. She'd wanted to talk to Faran, but the reason for it was getting blurry. Everything was spinning now, her heart thudding in her ears, her lungs aching and burning like nothing she'd ever felt before. A stray thought flitted past, wondering if this was what drowning was like.

She was dying. She'd had close calls, but nothing like this. She'd wanted to disappear when Ambrose was chasing her, and it had happened. And now she desperately yearned to fight back.

Lexie's power went to the one source she knew well—the maze. She couldn't say how she called to it, but she did and it answered. The tingling, sparkling power surged under the earth to where she knelt and boiled up inside her. Ambrose's spell fell away and she gasped in air, sucking sweet relief into her tortured lungs. And then she thrust out a hand, releasing a blast of magic that slammed him into the stone wall of the palace with enough force that she heard bones crack.

The next instant, a bullet of gray fur flashed past her, so close she felt the rush of wind. There was a snarl that was half a human scream, and the sound of wet and tearing flesh. Lexie collapsed, another glorious breath whooping in, and then another. The borrowed magic drained out of her in a rush, leaving her giddy. She scrunched her eyes closed as another barrage of fireworks flashed across the sky.