Magic Rising (27 page)

At the car, she pulled out her case. She’d grabbed every weapon she owned during the stop at the office to drop off the car. A change of clothes were in order. She needed to wear black, needed to blend.

Her leather fighting gear was in the case. It was black, smooth, and broken in, to make moving easy. Leather was good for fights because it added a layer of protection to the skin. A minor cut or scrape could be deflected. The only drawback was in newer leathers that hadn’t been stretched properly. Those were like fighting wrapped in a cocoon.

Her pants were specially tailored, with spandex at the hips and in a seam down each leg. While most men were stronger than her, she had them at agility. The male center of gravity is higher, residing in the chest where as a woman’s is lower, in the hips. One good shot to the chest or head and a man will fall.

The top was leather, like the pants. It had long Spandex sleeves, with leather covering her breasts in a large X and a thin metal links lining the area near the wrists. The shirt didn’t completely cover her stomach, but any more clothing and she’d burn up. The metal links added a fighting edge. Her wrists couldn’t be cut, giving her a larger striking zone, and deflecting short swords at close ranges.

She slipped into the bathroom near the front, changed and put the double sword sheaths across her back. They would be a pain during the ride to Stone House but she wanted them close. She didn’t trust Niam. He could have assassins waiting to take her the moment she exited her car. Deirdre also refilled her leg harness with throwing knives and checked her pistols.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Sabrine asked the moment Deirdre opened the bathroom door.

“No. I need you here. Niam might send people, knowing I’m preoccupied. I have no way of knowing if this isn’t some elaborate ruse to get the girl.”

Sabrine nodded. Deirdre expected her to turn around and go back to her guard duties. Instead she surprised Deirdre by stepping forward and hugging her. Deirdre stood there for a moment in shock before lifting her arms to return the hug. She wasn’t fond of touching; not even shaking hands, but Sabrine’s sign of affection was sweet. Sabrine was one of the few people who could see beyond Deirdre’s shell. Most people simply considered Deirdre a bitch, but Sabrine knew that not experiencing emotions wasn’t the same as only feeling hate.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this one,” Sabrine remarked as she pulled away.

“Me too.” Deirdre swallowed hard. “Sabrine, if I don’t come back, I’m probably not dead. I don’t think Niam wants to kill me.” She forced the next words from her mouth. “He wants to keep me.”

“If I don’t hear from you by this time tomorrow, we’ll come after you. I’ll bring in everyone and we’ll do a run on the place.”

Deirdre wanted to tell her no, not to risk it, but the words wouldn’t come out of her mouth. She wanted to be saved. As a child she dreamed of someone, her father maybe, coming in to take her and Scorpion away. It had never happened and now she doubted Sabrine or anyone could rescue her.

“Sure,” she managed, turning away. Behind her she heard Sabrine’s footsteps, heading back to the lanai.

Another glance at the clock got Deirdre moving. She would have no time to get there early and check things out. The way it looked, she’d have to break every speed limit just to get there on time.

Checking her weapons as she went, she ran to her car and gunned the engine, clearing the gate before it fully opened. She wished she had her sports car instead of this sedan. It didn’t go as fast, but the car handled well once she reached the interstate.

I don’t want to get trapped there.
That one thought circled her brain. She’d rather die than be trapped with Niam.

Chapter Eighteen

She expected the worst when she reached Stone House. The archway frightened her. The woods could hold sharp shooters willing to injure her before the altercation with Niam. What she found after pulling beyond the dorms to the main building an hour and forty five minutes later looked like a party, not a duel at all.

Paper lanterns sat around the building, lining the parking area and part of the drive. A generator hummed somewhere nearby and Deirdre noticed white lights strung around the rubble. There were other cars, so she parked at the side, near the shadows. However, her hopes of entering unnoticed were squelched when a man in a deep navy suit approached her car.

“Ms. Flye,” he said in a proper British accent. “We’ve been expecting you. Please follow me.”

He held open Deirdre’s door, then reached down to help her from the car, although the look she shot him made him withdraw. He stood at the side, straightening his suit as she stepped from her sedan.

“What’s the party about?”

The building had a pleasant glow despite the debris. A well-dressed couple went inside, the lady stepping carefully around the fallen rocks. There was no indication that a homeless man had died nearby or that anything could be wrong in the cheerful ambiance.

“Oh, Ms. Flye, you will be pleased but I’m afraid your host would be very put out if I spoiled his surprise. Please follow me.” He reminded her of a hotel concierge, and a little too cheerful for her taste.

“Who is the host?”

This seemed to take the man off guard. He looked at her for a moment as if she must be confused. “Niam Brogens, of course. Isn’t he the gentleman you’re here to see?”

“Yes, he is. I just didn’t expect a party.”

Deirdre didn’t know what new game Niam decided to play, but she didn’t like any of it. She expected a fight, a quiet in the dark event, not some party and this was quite a party too. They passed a few people meandering near the large stones on the outer area of the building. Everyone was dressed immaculately in elegant long dresses or tailored suits. She looked at her clothing, ready for blood not social gatherings.

Her escort pushed open a door and music carried out to her. Everything had been cleaned although a little of the smoky scent remained. He led her to the area that used to be the food service and part of the library. All the rubble had been cleared away with white lights strung near the tops of the walls. There was no ceiling and the walls that survived had been badly damaged but the area had been decorated for a party. A long table complete with burgundy linen cloth held food while a few servers circulated with trays of champagne. Music filled the open room. Musicians stood on a makeshift stone stage, seemingly assembled from flat sections of broken stone. One played violin, another bass, and a standup piano finished the soft sounds colliding in her head with the shock of finding this.

In the room, bodies moved with the music, dancing in the middle of an area used for study ten years ago. Gowns flowed with the music. Some men wore tuxedos, leading their dates through the colored lighting put off by more paper lanterns hanging from poles. Everything looked bright, but Deirdre could still see the stars, reminding her that this was no illusion. In fact, it resembled the Tamara Haas affair.

“You made it. Wonderful.” Niam stepped before her, coming out of a shadowy corner and waving the first man away. He wore a modern tux with no real tie but a black band completed by a large black and silver medallion in the middle. Part of his hair covered the burned areas of his face, while the rest swept back showing off one dark eye. “And you’re dressed for war. How very Dragonfly.”

“I wasn’t expecting a party.”

“May I get you something to drink?”

A waiter stopped next to them, pausing on his rounds while Niam put his empty glass on the tray and retrieved a full one. He also took one for her, handing it toward her then replacing it when Deirdre shook her head no.

“What? Don’t you like parties?”

Niam had never been nice to her and she’d never seen him in a social climate. None of it would sway her from her chore. She would either kill him tonight or convince him to leave her alone. The thought of committing murder bothered her. For a violent bitch, she valued life above all else, that’s why she fought to preserve it. Even Niam might have a redeeming quality or two. Anything was possible.

“What’s the occasion?”

“Dance with me.”

Niam set his glass on another passing waiter’s tray and grabbed her hand. Deirdre wouldn’t budge, steadying herself as Niam felt her resistance. Instead of looking angry, he smiled, stepped close to her and put his other hand on her hip while still holding her hand. His body swayed and Deirdre remained motionless. Niam came closer, his body touching hers, forcing her to move or have the equivalent of full body dry hump.

“Why are we dancing?”

“I like to dance.” He turned her on the floor. “Besides, technically, you’re not dancing, only swaying.”

“I don’t dance.” She didn’t like his hands on her, even when he wasn’t causing pain. “I never learned how.”

“I knew something was missing in your education. I’m afraid we were so focused on the darker arts, that we let a few things slip through. I’m partially to blame for that. As leaders, we tended to forget that life is about more than combat. It’s about living.” He smiled and actually looked pleasant. “Allow me to instruct you on something more pleasant than fighting.”

Niam leaned closer, his mouth near her ear as he counted the steps, whispering them and leading her in the first dance lesson of her life. At first she tried to pull back, but the hand at her hip wrapped around her waist and she couldn’t gain a decent inch. She expected him to lean over and bite her, or steal her weapons. His movements never changed, he only whispered one-two-three-four along with small instructions as he guided her along the dance floor.

It was too awkward to enjoy and she didn’t purposely step on his feet, although a few toe squishes happened anyway. Appeasing him in the middle of his house with his soldiers, well-dressed as they were, seemed like a good idea. Even when he spun her gently, bringing her back into his arms, she didn’t fight.

“You would dance better if you relaxed.”

Relax?
He wanted her to relax after trying to beat the crap out of her, doing that burning touch thing, and then trailing her from Gladys’s house. Never mind their history, never mind the cruel tactics he’d used to teach her. The recent stuff was enough reason to put up a fight.

“I’d relax if I knew what you were up to. You weren’t this sociable at our last encounter.”

He led her around again, this time making a complete circle in the room and Deirdre had to wonder how long this song lasted. Then she remembered the live band. The music could go on until the pianist’s fingers fell off.

“I thought you wanted me here to fight, not dance. Why are we dancing? Why are you being nice?” She didn’t know what to do about nice. “Is this your way of offering a truce?”

“Already ready for battle.” He released her hand, leading her with his arm around her waist and far too close to her sword. “Let’s get the unpleasantness out of the way, then perhaps you will be better company.”

He took her down the hall to where the leaders’ rooms had been. The music died away as they crept down the dark halls with only a few lights to guide their way among the broken stone walls.

More importantly, he took her to his old room. She’d always dreaded going there. On several occasions she’d been summoned to that horrible place where he always had a few naked women stretched out over the furniture. She hadn’t known what sex was and he’d only touched the women’s hair in front of her. It still made her skin crawl.

“Why do we have to go in there?” she asked, feeling like that scared little girl all over again. She didn’t like that place. It always smelled of incense and some musky human scent. “I thought we were going to fight.”

“You always hated me, didn’t you?” Niam paused in the hallway, at his door. He looked at her softly and she suddenly hoped he wasn’t going to try to seduce her. Already she felt a little nauseous.

“You were never kind to me. Only Scorpion was kind to me. The rest of you would have been happy to see me dead.”

“So you thought.”

Niam had to jerk the door handle up to make the latch release. The interior remained untouched from the fire. Niam must’ve been caught somewhere along the outer rooms to be burned the way he was.

“Several of the leaders survived. Did you know that? They would be interested in hearing about you.”

Deirdre shook her head no and swallowed hard. She didn’t like the idea of running into more of those people. They could be anywhere. Who knows maybe they’d given up cults and decided to try world domination through golf.

They stepped further inside and Niam lit a heavy camping lantern near the door. It smoked lazily then filled the room in a soft orange white glow. There she saw the old extravagance. His living room took up part of it. Behind that, and visible from all points in the room, was his large satin-covered bed. It was the focal point of the apartment as well as Niam’s old life. She saw the hallway just beyond it. That’s where he’d always taken her for more exercise and training when she hadn’t done enough in class. That room had padded floors and walls with a few metal poles running horizontally throughout the length of the room.

For fun he’d make her do chin ups, then bring the bowl of hot coals to put beneath her to keep her going when she grew tired. It had been so large that there was no way to stop and get off the pole without either Niam’s permission or a severe burn from the bowl.