She's No Faerie Princess (21 page)

just the gates."

Rafe broke in with a glare for his better half. "What myincredibly foolhardy and about-to-learn-the-meaning-of-chastised wife means is that we occasionally need toreach someone at the Faerie courts without traveling allthe way there. Since your aunt also likes to have theoption of tossing accusations our way without having toleave her own borders, she gave us a gift."

"It's a…" Tess paused and pursed her lips. "Well, actually, I'm not quite sure of the appropriate descriptor…"

Rafe winced. "Let's go with… 'stained-glass,' er, 'piece'…shall we, love?"

"Why the hell didn't you mention this earlier?" Graham demanded. "We might have been able to find the demon by now, and that male human might still be alive."

Tess stiffened. "I didn't mention it because I'm fairlycertain the queen is not going to be happy with anynumber of the things we're proposing to tell her, Graham,so I was trying to spare us all the pain caused by openingup a third front in this little war we're fighting."

The excitement faded from Fiona's face, and Walkersuppressed the urge to cuddle her.

"She's right," Graham said. He still got headaches from the last fit the Faerie queen had thrown at the mortal Others. "I'm not sure which would be more disastrous— letting the demon ruin the negotiations, thereby causing the humans to make war and destroy all living Other kind, or telling Mab about the princess's trip and Dionnu's

presence at the summit. Either one pretty much spells doom from where I see it. Knowing Mab, she might let the demons and humans destroy us anyway, just to teach us a lesson."

Again, Walker found himself trying to shield his new matefrom his alpha. Walker didn't like the tone Graham hadput into calling her "the princess." If anyone was going tocall Fiona by a nickname she hated, it sure as hell wasn'tgoing to be anyone but Walker.

Shit. He was losing his mind.

"I don't see that we have much choice." Fiona ignored his strange restlessness and spoke with determination. "If we want to find this summoner and stop the demons he controls from killing any more humans, we need to move quickly. And we need all the help we can get."

Rafe nodded. "I agree, but it will not do us any good if wemake up time but end up in a pitched battle against Faerie."

"Can you think of a better solution?" No one said anything, but everyone looked at least somewhat uncomfortable. Fiona nodded. "Right. Then I think you'd better show me this gift of Mab's."

CHAPTER 16

Fiona laughed when she saw it.

The gift had probably been meant to hang in front of alarge window where light could shine through the myriadpanes of colored glass and cast bright, vibrant pools ofcolor around the room. Thank the stars the Others hadbeen too smart for that. Instead, the two-by-three-footpiece hung inside a wooden cabinet in a small study onthe second floor of Vircolac like some kind of guiltysecret. The gilt frame around the monstrosity could easilyhave dated back to the days of the human king Louis

XIV, but Fiona would have dated its origins to the Early

Bad Taste period.

The edges of the glass disappeared into a rectangularwooden frame so ornately decorated, she almostexpected it to tear the huge armoire down with its weight. Trailing vines twisted and clung, sprouting berries hereand there like a hideous example of plant food gonewrong. Winged cherubs beamed maniacally down fromeach of the four corners, pudgy arms pulling back onintricately decorated bows. Their arrows pointed straightat anyone foolish enough to stand in front of the blindinggilded abomination. But worse than any of the sins of theframe was the image it surrounded.

Some evil artistic antigenius had used the same mediumas the glorious rose window at Chartres to depict thestomach-churning image of Shakespearean fairies inmidfrolic. Little winged creatures with faces like trolls andlimbs like toothpicks gamboled around the edges of whatlooked like it was supposed to be a sylvan glade. Adeformed and violently blue stream flowed across theforeground, and at the center of the scene a hideouslyblond fairy in a crown and a toga stood surrounded by theglowing nimbus usually reserved for human saints.

"Damn. One of you must have really pissed her off."

"Yeah, we figured that out." Tess guided Fiona until she stood right in the path of those little golden arrows about three feet from the surface of the blindingly bad artwork. "Actually, it reminds me that I wanted to ask you when Mab's birthday is. I have this lovely macramé toilet paper cover I think she'd just adore."

"There is a little charm she told us to use to make the glass active," Rafe said. He and the others stood against the inner wall of the study, well out of sight—or maybe firing range—of the magical device. "I didn't think you'd need it. You've probably done this sort of thing before, right?"

"I think I can figure it out."

Fiona took a deep breath, focused her attention on theglass, and gritted her teeth. Not because of any nervesabout her ability to communicate through her aunt's gift tothe Others, but because when Mab answered her call,she'd probably end up wishing she'd stopped along theway and picked up a full-body suit of Kevlar. Or maybeasbestos.

There had to be a museum in this city with a nice little setof steel-plate armor, right?

She twitched a little when Walker appeared just behindher and laid his large, warm hands on her shoulders.

"Need a little energy boost?" His breath tickled her ear and the solid, steady presence of him relaxed her enough that she could feel her muscles softening. That was good. It would help her absorb the impact of the coming blows.

"The peanut gallery over there would get an eyeful, but

it's all for a good cause, right?"

Like she needed him to kiss her. Just the sound of hislow, rumbling voice was enough to have sparks dancingalong her skin. It made her remember how he soundedwhen he was naked beside her. Above her. Inside her.

She shivered.

"Is that a yes?"

"Thanks,
 
mo fáell
," she said. He wasn't really "her wolf," but nerves made her grateful for his support. "But I think I can take it from here."

He brushed her hair away from her neck and leaneddown to press a kiss against the skin that still bore themark left by his bite. She could almost imagine it heatingat his touch. "Whatever you say, Princess. But if youneed me, you just holler."

He stepped back, and Fiona told herself to stop stalling. Delaying things wouldn't make her aunt's temper anyeasier to deal with.

Vicodin, on the other hand…

"Oh, bugger it." Gritting her teeth and steeling her nerves, she looked directly into the chaotic jumble of colored glass and breathed the simple charm she'd known since childhood. "
 
Rís e dhumh
 
."

Tell me.

For the space of a heartbeat, nothing happened, but

Fiona felt the magic whisper out with her breath and curl

and dance toward the glass. The magic seemed to make the individual panes ripple like the water in a pond giving way to a stone. The image in the frame began to pulse almost like a heartbeat, colors shifting and rearranging so the static image of the stained glass became almost like

a movie with the characters performing the actions depicted.

She waited patiently for the magic to creep through theveil between the human world and Faerie. Time meantnothing to power. You couldn't make it move faster, but inthis case, Fiona felt it was moving fast enough. Shebraced herself for the image to focus and the face of heraunt to develop in the small magical window.

Mab never appeared.

Instead, Fiona watched as the shifting colors began toslow and settle into a new image, one that looked almostlike the bright, glittering halls of her aunt's palace. Fionacouldn't make out anything specific, but she caughtglimpses of archways and staircases and graceful,darting movements. She sensed rather than heard clearmusical voices, light ringing laughter, and the hum ofconstant activity. Against her skin, she could almost feelthe warmth of magical fires burning at a perfect, constanttemperature in the huge open hearths and the breeze ofwings stirring the air.

Drawing in a breath, she prepared to speak her aunt'sname, but the sound never made it out.

All at once, the colors of glass flared bright with a sicklyputrid green light. The image writhed violently anddarkened. A veil was drawn over it, dark and thick likesooty, smothering black coal smoke. Startled, Fiona took

a step forward to get a better look and heard a sound like

a gunshot in the quiet of the small study.

The glass cracked.

Really it shattered, splintering into thousands of tinyrazor-sharp pieces and blasting outward from thewardrobe like shrapnel from a bomb. Another soundshook her, this one a low, ferocious roar as somethinglarge and angry tackled her from the side, knocking heroff her feet and carrying her to the floor. Arms wrappedaround her, Walker rolled her across the antique rug withastonishing speed, carrying her out of the path of thedangerous debris.

All around them, the room erupted into chaos. Peopleshouted and swore and ducked out of the way of the tinyglass bullets. Graham shoved Missy down behind thesofa with Tess, who had been diving for cover almostbefore Fiona realized what was happening. With a roar, Rafe dodged to the side and threw himself forward,coming in low and to the side of the wardrobe andslamming the door shut against the volley of glass.

Fiona lay there, breathless and dizzy under Walker'sconsiderable bulk, and listened to the sound of glassthudding like buckshot into the wooden panels of thecabinet doors for several more seconds before everythingwent quiet.

Of course, it didn't stay that way for long.

"What the high holy fuck was that all about?" Graham shouted, dragging Missy from the hiding place he'd put her in and wrapping her up in his arms. His glare should have had the armoire bursting into flames. "Someone

could have been killed!"

"I think that was the point." Tess stood up and leaned over to shake the sharp, sparkling dust out of her hair. She gave her mate a quick, hard hug when he covered the space between them with a single leap, his hands and eyes moving over her looking for injuries. "I'm fine, baby, but someone inside that picture seems to be feeling a little bit cranky."

Fiona shifted and Walker finally eased off of her, at leastfar enough to sit on the floor and pull her into his lap.

"Are you okay?" he demanded.

His voice sounded even rougher and lower than usualand Fiona forced her lips into a smile. For the first time ina long, long time, she felt shaken, but her self-appointedbodyguard didn't need to know how badly.

"I'm fine."

"No. You're not." He swore and lifted his finger to brush the curve of her cheekbone. When he drew it away, she could see a drop of crimson blood glistening on the tip.

She reached up and touched the same spot. Now shecould feel a slight sting, but until she'd seen the blood,she hadn't even realized she'd been nicked by a piece ofglass. "It's nothing. Just a scratch."

Walker growled something under his breath, but his eyeswere warm and bright as he leaned forward and presseda kiss to the tiny wound. She felt the tip of his tonguesneak out to soothe the minor hurt and tried to ignorewhen something inside her melted.

"I'm fine," she repeated, trying to sound brisk and cool, but she couldn't stop herself from reaching up and pushing a stray piece of his rumpled hair back away from his face.

The room was silent around them.

Missy broke the tension with a quiet and distinctlysatisfied hum. "Well, that gave us a bit of excitement. I'mgoing to have to get one of the cleaning crew in here withthick-soled shoes and a vacuum cleaner."

"I think we can worry about that later," Graham said, frowning down at her. "First, I'd like someone to tell me what the hell just happened."

"The same thing that happened when I tried to get back

home through the gate in the park." Fiona shifted in

Walker's lap and he set her aside, rising easily to his feet.

She took his hand and let him pull her to hers. "The

glass, like the gate, was cursed. Booby-trapped.

Someone is going to a load of trouble to cut off the

communication between us and Faerie."

"No way." Graham shook his head and scowled. "There's no way anyone could have gotten inside this club and performed a curse without me or someone on my staff knowing about it. It's impossible."

"Maybe it wasn't the glass that was cursed," Fiona

offered, only half-joking. "Maybe it was me."

"Not to burst your bubble there," Tess said, "but it could

just be a coincidence that you were the one who

activated it. The curse could have been placed before the

mirror came to us and set to go off whenever it was used,

or if it was ever used by someone with Fae blood. Or it could have been cursed remotely. You don't need to see something or someone to put a curse on it. That's why they call it magic."