rogue shifter 07 - cut off (21 page)

"When was the attack?"

"Two hours ago."

"And nothing has changed?"

"The bleeding stopped, but that's all."

I turned to Kaera. "Will you allow me to probe your wound?" One never sent any kind of energy into a fae without permission.

"Of course." She managed to smile, despite the pain.

I rested one hand on her bare shoulder as I sent out my magical tendrils, afraid that the poison, if any, might be in her bloodstream and so could affect her mind. What I found shocked me even more.

"Liam." He immediately rested his hand on mine.

There was a dark rot,—there was no other word for it,—spreading slowly up the stump of her arm, almost to her shoulder. The hand I rested there grew warmer as the skin turned pink beneath it. When the rot moved slowly on, I gasped.

"Listen. A rhythm."

"A spelled creature?" Liam asked.

"We can't let it near her heart or her brain."

"No. Can we cut it out?"

"We have no choice." I sighed.

He pulled out his dagger and then leaned down to whisper a few words in Kaera's ear. She immediately fell asleep.

"I'll cut and you'll remove?" he suggested.

"Do it."

Liam grabbed my arm to get my attention. "Don't touch it with your bare skin." I pulled long tweezers out of my medical bag, but there was no time to put on gloves.

"Now" Liam sliced into her reddened skin, dangerously close to a major artery in her neck.

"Do you see it?" he asked.

"Yes." At the end of my tweezers hung a dark glob, slug-like in appearance and very much alive.

"Should we bottle it?"

Its evil intent was obvious. "We kill it." I dropped the creature into the hearth fire. It sizzled, emitting a rancid odor.

"What was that thing?' I asked.

"A parasite that often lives within the slaugh. When they bleed or die, it attaches itself to whatever life form is available, traveling inside the body through open wounds. If it is exposed to the air for long, it dies.

Happily, Keara began to heal almost instantly. Lord Argon spoke softly to her in fae, squeezing her only hand and then kissing her forehead.

Brina, who should have been pleased with the results, stood in a far corner, sulking. "Brina, come closer," Keara ordered. "Why are you angry with me?"

Her sister moved to the foot of the bed, hands fisted by her sides. "You did not follow orders and almost died." She looked at me, explaining. "We were ordered not to patrol alone." Her angry glare was once more directed toward her sister. "You are to inherit from father. You must be more responsible."

Keara laughed. "Died? I was never in danger."

"Did the slaugh survive?" I asked.

Kaera snorted then winced. "What do you think?"

"I would guess that the pieces are still being gathered for the bonfire."

She laughed softly, then grew serious. "As is my arm. I am sorry to miss the opportunity to rescue Garrett from Fionna's corrupt court."

Lord Argon said something sternly in fae then turned to me, his accent heavy, "I only remind my eldest daughter that she is still the subject of the queen and should not speak of her with disrespect. At least not in public." He smiled. "Once more I find myself in your debt, Jacqueline. I would be honored if you and your family would come to us for dinner one evening after Garrett is safely returned."

"Thank you very much. That would be wonderful." To most ears, being invited to dinner probably sounded mundane, but being invited to dinner in Faerie usually involved spectacular scenery, delicious food, music, dancing and honey wine. An opportunity never to be passed up.

I heard the door open and then Keara groaned. "What are you doing here, cousin?"

It was Linn. "I wished to see how you fared, cousin Keara, and also to speak to Jacqueline, if she has the time to spare for me."

After I'd cleaned up, we went outside and she got right to the point. "Charles is well?"

"Yes, according to Marie."

This information put her at ease, but there was something else bothering her. "Jacqueline." She nodded in the most formal way. "I sense that you...that you..." I waited. She sighed. "Charles is sixteen. An adult male."

I laughed. "He's sixteen and male, but far from an adult."

"You hold him back."

"In what way?"

"His destiny lies with mine. He should live in Cascade with my family." Her hands were on her hips. This was one stubborn kid. I wondered if Aedus or Philly knew she was here.

I tried really hard to remember how I felt at sixteen. "This is just a heads up, but males mature later than females. It has nothing to do with intelligence, it's just a fact. Ask your mother how long it took her to convince your dad that she was the one. Or ask Kellie about Liam."

"You aren't keeping him away from me?" she asked, puzzled.

"No, and neither is Garrett."

"But Charles doesn't visit often like he used to."

I took her hand and led her to a nearby bench. "You care for him, but it's way too soon to make a commitment, especially for him. If it's meant to be, it'll happen. Right now I think he's more concerned about the prophesy and how he's going to live up to what everyone expects from him. He could use your friendship now more than ever."

"I wish for his happiness."

"As do I." I reached out my hand and lifted her chin. "I wish for your happiness too. What do you love?"

"My parents. Your son." She blushed very much like a young human girl would under the circumstances.

I thought back to my own teen-aged years. Until I'd turned seventeen and met Garrett and the Rogues, Inc. team, my years had been far from stellar, some of them food for nightmares. This girl had always been protected and loved, but also guided down a very narrow path. Maybe I could suggest another way to occupy her mind other than fantasizing about my much too young son.

"Not who. What do you love to
do
?"

She thought about it for several moments. "To train with Keara. She is skilled with weapons. Father and Mother limit my time on the field."

I smiled. This was good. "Aedus is the Cascade Sidhe's most accomplished warrior, correct?"

She grinned, proud of her dad. "Yes."

"Then it's in your blood too. A worthy male likes a strong woman." I winked and she finally relaxed into a grin. "Train with Keara and then fight beside us when the war comes."

"I will do as you say. Thank you."

I whispered, "Can we keep this between us? I'm already in trouble with your dad."

She giggled as she nodded.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

"Strike. Block. Strike. Block." I was running bo staff drills with Stan on the enormous lawn behind Isaiah's house. This was one of my favorite weapons, because even though it didn't shoot anything or cut anything, feeling the vibration of the staff as it made contact was extremely satisfying. Maybe it was more "bar brawl" than "field of battle," but I kinda liked that.

Sasha had worked with me for years with the staff, so I thought I was pretty good. That is, until Stan started sparring with me.

I thought of Stan as Isaiah's combo second-in-command/executive assistant/body guard, even though he usually acted like a servant. He was about my height when he stood, and since he was cool with keeping his middle set of arms behind his back, the ones that sprouted out of his waist, he made a decent sparring partner. The problem with Stan was that I couldn't read him. He was covered in long fur which was constantly in motion, confusing the usual body twitches or weight shifts that let me know with other opponents which way they were moving next. Plus he was fast, his movements maybe as fast as my dad's vamp speed.

Things were going pretty well this afternoon, until he hit me in the stomach and I lost my ability to breathe, at least for a few seconds. When I looked up, Stan had thrown down his staff and was prostrate on the ground, facing the mountains. At first I thought maybe this was how he apologized, but he'd hurt me worse during other sessions and never apologized. In fact, he'd laughed at me. I didn't want to interrupt him 'cause it could be some kind of cultural or religious...um...whatever.

Rubbing my newly bruised stomach, I stretched out face up on the ground and groaned, grateful to have the extra time to heal myself and catch my breath.

"Who are you?" The female's voice had me jumping up, my staff automatically held in fighting position, my magic also beginning to whir online. I shut it down as soon as my gray matter woke up. A wolf wouldn't have magic.

Especially since this female's arrival was, in two words, oh shit.

She was tall like her son, dressed in a gown that shimmered, changing color so often I couldn't have said what shade it was. She was ageless, her eyes lava orange with red bursts, her lips perfectly shaped, but pouting in confusion. I couldn't keep myself from admiring her curvy figure, even though it was totally wrong of me to notice.

My great-grandmother checked me out right back. Holy crap. I might as well kneel right now and ask for mercy.

It had to be her. No one else could have gotten through Isaiah's security. I guess all this time I was picturing someone who looked older than Isaiah, but how dumb was that? Isaiah looked like he was in his mid twenties and he was over three thousand. Maybe way, way over. I thought about the desk. Yeah. Light years older.

Her aura—god, her aura was solid—no flux—a star taken from the heavens and permanently glued to her body. I'd never seen anything like it. She was incredible.

She frowned because I hadn't answered, her eyes shimmering with heat. "Well?"

Aaaannnd, freakin' terrifying too. Her angry voice cut through my body like a sharpened pick.

I automatically touched behind my ear and bowed, pretending I didn't know who she was. "I'm a servant, lady."

"Oh? How did that come to be?"

"I owed Isaiah money so he—he bought me. He owns me. I have to work for him for a couple of years." She arched an eyebrow. "Maybe a couple of decades." I shrugged.

"You're a wolf?"

"Yes, lady."

" Where did you learn to bow in the demon way? It was very well done."

I realized my mistake, so in a panic, I kept spewing out more of my made-up story. "Isaiah makes me do it to him. He punishes me if I do it wrong."

She laughed, but her eyes remained cold. "He does love his wolves. You're actually quite attractive. How old are you?"

"Seventeen." Shoot. Maybe I should have said I was younger. I sure as heck didn't want her hittin' on me...even though...oh no. Too weird even for the DR.

"I thought wolves were made at eighteen."

"Depends on the pack."

"And where is your pack, child?" Stan was behind the female madly gesturing that I should get on the ground.

I fell to my knees. "Sorry, lady."

"Get up. Your name?"

I stood. "Uh...Damian." I can't believe we never thought of a name, or maybe that was something Isaiah told me to do. This whole thing was turning into an epic fail.

"Uhdamian. You seem shy. Wolves are not usually shy."

"I guess...I guess I am." I looked down at the ground, hoping she'd think I was a harmless puppy.

"You have not yet told me where your pack resides." She was losing patience and I was starting to shake.

"Mother. How lovely to see you." My gaze popped up in time to see Isaiah kiss both of her cheeks. "Stan, get refreshments for the archdemon. Damian, go to the library and organize my desk. I've left it a mess."

"I'd rather he stay, dear. It's so unusual to have a wolf to talk to." Her gaze was locked on mine. Goosebumps spread over my skin as my eyes widened. I was dead. Dead—dead—dead.

"I would like for you two to have a nice chat, but I have private matters to discuss with you, Mother. Perhaps next time."

"He stays."

"Of course, Mother." He smiled warmly and took her arm. "Shall we three go to the music room? It captures the best light this time of day and the view of your mountain range from the large picture windows is lovely. Your creatures have been restless of late, their many shadows moving at tremendous speeds. We are all curious as to what can be causing it."

She pulled away, stroking Isaiah's face with her fingertips. "There is a disruption in the balance of our world, sweetling, and I believe you know very well what has caused it." She glanced toward the mountains as a comfortable chair appeared on the grass. She lowered herself into it with perfect grace. "My creatures sense that war is at hand. Their unrest drew me here, to you and your tasty wolf."

Tasty? Oh man. My knees started to wobble.

Isaiah gave me a stern glance, then smiled at his mother. "I'm thrilled you've come." He sent to me at the same time,
"If I tell you to take the lines home, do it. I'll open the portal for five seconds. Don't argue, don't hesitate, and don't say another word."

"Your new wolf was demonstrating his fighting abilities with a staff. He is enormously skilled for one so young. Perhaps he could display his technique with a sword or a dagger?"

She'd emphasized that last word. My heart must have stopped completely for a few seconds. Naberia was looking for the last Arcane dagger which was currently in Isaiah's possession. If she suspected that he was keeping it from her, then he was toast. My dagger was one of the Arcane blades given to the fae. She wouldn't be able to wield it.

Isaiah was talking. "Alas the wolf has no skill with either of those weapons. As you know, wolves generally fight skin to skin, or pelt to pelt as it were." He giggled, acting the fool for the benefit of his mother.

It didn't look like she was buying it. "Claw to claw and fang to fang, more likely."

Stan served them two goblets of wine and they took a long sip, each sizing the other one up. "You do have excellent taste in wine, son." She placed the goblet on the small table conjured up next to her chair. "Here's an idea. Why don't you spar with him? We'll see how good he is." She laughed, a sound low in her throat."I'd rather that you don't kill him, but broken bones are expected in a fight of that nature, are they not? Wolves are used to pain."