The Devil You Know (24 page)

He’d had brushes with mortality before—his fingers moved to the white that tinged his forelock, its presence shrinking with his prolonged exposure to the power that suffused the house—but never as close as this. And never had there been such a risk to his Queen should he fall. He had been rescued by a mere slip of a girl, one not fully in her power.
One
that seemed destined to be Queen. Cate’s bravery had forced him to look more closely at his own life and to what he could do to lessen his aunt’s jeopardy. And what he had found both shamed and intrigued him.

Cate’s father, the Prince, was not the only one capable of breeding a viable heir, one able to wield the power the seven realms needed. Van was the Queen’s sister’s son and of her line. But few females in the Otherworld were of the caliber needed. And he had found his heart unmoved by all of them. They had been well and good for dalliances but not worthy of bearing a future queen. And of course he had not wanted to give up his freedom…had not thought it necessary until recently.

Obviously, his aunt thought otherwise. She was here risking her life and the future of their realm to ask a girl they knew little of to come back with them. And that was as much his fault as his cousin’s. It was time that he demoned-up as it were and took one for the team. It was time that he took a mate…and begat a few hellions.

Van had never considered looking past his own realm, past his own kind. Until days ago, he had not known that offspring with another species could wield their powers so well. Cate still had a great deal of growing to do, but she proved that this world had potential. His possible pool of selection had just gotten much larger.

And he knew the exact woman to assist him.

As if conjured by his thoughts, Helena Delacy stepped into the room, and his eyes locked on her. Though others might think otherwise, he could tell the redheaded guardian was mated. Like their Draig-Kin, Demons had a sort of second-sense about these things. He didn’t have his aunt’s skill for reading minds, but he did have a bit of knowledge when it came to reading souls. There was something about the witch’s aura that said a piece of her was missing. He would have liked to have been the one to fill her empty spaces but alas knew it was not to be. He would simply have to satisfy himself with enlisting her other less physical services.

For she was full of grace and beauty, steel and cunning. She was a warrior and a scholar—all things a queen should be. Helena would do well to help him pick a woman capable of passing these traits onto a daughter. And he couldn’t forget the most important part. From the number of exquisite lovelies coming and going in her house, she also had access to some most lusciously warm bodies—with all the parts he preferred. It shouldn’t be too difficult for her to find a woman he wouldn’t mind bedding.

“Helena,” he said as she checked his bandages. “I have a favor to ask of you.”

She was reluctant but quickly saw reason when he pointed out how beneficial his own pairing would be for Cate. He didn’t care for her suggestion that they add Marco into the scheme but agreed the vampire had access and skills a potential bridegroom needed. Van knew the basics of speech and dress from his years prowling this realm in search of his cousin’s lost mate, but he knew nothing of its women. Whatever the Italian Lothario could teach him would be a lesson well-learned.

And so their bargain was struck. In a few days’ time, they would begin the hunt for his bride.

Matchmaker, matchmaker, make me a match. Make her strong and fine, the sort of girl any demon would be lucky to catch.

* * *

With Betz leading the way, we went out the front door and circled around the back gardens, past the agency offices, and down a slight hill to the small creek-fed pond that bordered the edge of the woods. I nearly fainted when we arrived at the water and saw through the cattails the boat in the middle of the large expanse of water. Its occupants, Alex and Carlin Wellsy, shrieked with laughter as the boralis spun around them. The shimmering red fish leapt high, twisting and turning in the air above the boat before splashing down.

I’d never seen anything like it. Not only did my always ravenous pets seem uninterested in consuming the children, it was hard to determine which was more enamored of the other. Their bracelets had been removed and yellow ribbons of magic swirled from Alex’s hands, while Car shouted gleefully, watching with wide eyes. The fish followed the magic, seemingly happy to let the small child direct their aerial ballet. Far distant, gravel crunched as a car came down the drive, but we were too busy to be concerned with yet another unexpected guest.

Unaware of the danger, Cassie dove toward the water.

“Hold!” I yelled too late.

Faster than I could see, Jacq’s silver body flashed forward, grabbed the leaping witch’s arm, and yanked her back. Arms crossed over her chest, Betz watched the children, more interested in their antics than the adults’ worry. More interested…until Cassie’s momentum swung her around and into the tiger.

Unprepared, Betz wrapped her arms around Cassie as they fell backward. I scrambled for the back of Jacq’s pants as she slid down the muddy bank, heading for a drop into deep water. With a grunt, I stumbled backward, pulling her with me to more solid ground.

Hearing a shout, we turned to see Gemini crest the hill. She looked tired but happy…until she saw Cassie lying sprawled across Betz’s body. Gem’s expression quickly closed down. Not noticing that they were being watched, the tangled duo tried to separate their limbs. Cassie’s hair, which was notably white in the sunlight, had fallen into her face. She stood and pushed it out of her eyes, glaring at Jacq.

“What do you think you’re doing? My children are on that boat.” Cassie jabbed her finger toward the water. “Neither can swim. I need to get out there now!”

I stared at the witch then turned to the pond. “Be my guest. But you’ll be dead within minutes. The water’s infested with fire-eaters.”

Cassie gaped then looked at the shimmering red fish that leapt and swirled about the boat, murmuring, “My goddess, that can’t be.” She waved her arms at the boralis, shouting, “Those can’t be! I have to get to the children.”

Betz moved to stand beside us. “I don’t see the big deal. So they’re red and glow. Those things obviously like the little kiddos. They can’t be that dangerous.”

“That’s what the last three men they killed thought,” I said softly, not listening to Betz’s disbelieving reply. I’d inadvertently turned these innocent fish into killers. According to the legends, that was their reason for being. But the truth of what I’d done still saddened me.

Gem moved until she stood at Jacq’s side, placing us between herself and the other women. “How high can they go?” she asked, gazing at the water. Cassie turned in surprise, her anger turning to confused hope.

“Maybe a foot or two more,” I answered, understanding. “Maybe not even that. But we can distract them.”

Jacq murmured her agreement.

“Do all you can,” Gem said, floating upward. “Levitating is difficult during the day. I cannot go very high.”

As she moved slowly up and over the water, I peppered the area to our right with fire, hoping to persuade the fish away from their fun. Tiny droplets of Jacq’s silver magic fell like rain all around mine. Cassie watched Gem as if in a trance. Then she shook herself and sent earth magic to flow over ours in thin green sheets.

Gem moved up and outward until she hovered above the boat, the strain evident on her sweating face. Yellow magic still whipped about the children, along with a few stubborn fish. The airborne woman was barely above the jumping boralis’s range. I couldn’t hear the words but could tell she was speaking softly to the children. Alex’s ribbons of magic stopped, and the fish swam to where our magic fell. Both children wore very somber faces as Gem slowly drifted downward, settling with them in the boat. Cassie took a loud breath of relief, and I noticed Betz had placed her hand on the shaky witch’s shoulder.

Gem held the children securely in her lap and braced herself. The small boat moved forward, gliding through the water under her power. As soon as they hit the bank and Gemini stepped out with the children in tow, a crying Cassie rushed forward, hugging all three. Arms again crossed, Betz watched with an impatient expression.

Gem passed Cassie the children who were babbling about being Argonauts. Gem met my eyes over Cassie’s head. She looked ready to drop but there was only determination in her voice when she said, “I think it time, Cassandra, for you, Alex, and Carlin to go home. I spent the night finding tires for your car and will accompany you to ensure you and the children remain safe.” Her voice was steady but her eyes simmered with anger. Though it wasn’t directed at me specifically, I nodded, acknowledging the chastisement.

We would all have to work harder to watch and protect these two. As was often typical for those very young…and those not so young…they didn’t always know the danger they sought.

* * *

Christmas, 1726

“Fend for yourself until I call for you,” LaFortuna said right before he freed the boy’s wrists and walked away to check a brewing potion’s progress. Beyond weak, the emaciated boy slid down the wall to lie in a ball on the floor. Like a starved dog beaten within an inch of its life, the raggedy, blood-encrusted creature was nothing like the boy he had once been. For weeks, he had hung there, kept alive by magic, his Master’s tainted blood, and scraps of rotting food. Now he was free to go. But the snows would be deep outside the stockade. He had nowhere to go and no method to get there. The alchemist had stolen even the souls from the village’s horses.

More importantly, the boy no longer had reason to leave.

He lay there for hours, his mind too far gone to recognize his freedom for what it was: another form of punishment. Finally, he managed to get one leg then another under him. Mechanically, he stood on wobbly feet and walked out of the room, up the stairs, and past door after door until he found his mother’s. Like the others, the smell of old death seeped from under the threshold. Nevertheless, he entered. There his beautiful, kind-hearted mother—the woman who had healed souls as well as bodies with her empathetic spirit—lay, her eyes blessedly closed. She had not awoken to suffer the pain of her death or the knowledge of his failure. That mercy brought a small ray of peaceful sunshine to the jumbled darkness that was the boy’s broken mind.

Stiffly, he moved to the window and opened it, allowing in the winter wind. Shivering, he climbed under the cold covers and lay against his decaying mother’s side, uncaring of the smell. There he watched the night pass. When the sun finally rose, he slept a few fitful hours. Rising reluctantly, he kissed his mother on the forehead, wished her a good day, and headed to the kitchen. There the boy said good morn to the bloated cook, snoozing on her cot, and begged from her what little bits of dried meat and fruit had not spoiled. He rationed what he could, borrowed more practical clothes from the sleeping stable boy, and made plans.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but it had to be near midwinter. After this time, he thought he knew his Master well. Come spring and the melting of the snow, he would be free…or he would be again chained. Either way, the boy would die. But first, he had two things to do.

He thanked the cook for her food and in his mind heard her wish him good luck. The boy had no tongue and the cook no soul. But their conversation was as real as any he had ever had. He left the room on a quest, humming a lullaby under his breath. To complete his first task, he would need a weapon. He wondered,
Where exactly would one find one of those in a house where the dead walked and the living slept?

No surprise, several of the stockade’s sleeping occupants were more than willing to offer their suggestions.

Chapter Fourteen

“Let me tell you a little story about the always ravenous Miss Muffet the Strumpet who liked her curds with whey of a different variety. Now there was a classy fairy.”

—Josephine Fera, Consummate Smartass

“Is he dead?” Betz asked as she looked down at the sleeping Rom. “Or just too hungover from last night’s drunken orgy to get his lazy ass outta bed?”

“Neither.” I looked at the male Were tiger sadly. He needed to be in a medical facility where he could be provided fluids and nutrition, but his sister, Risa, had delayed making the decision to move him. Allowing the healers to temporarily slow his metabolism after the great battle with Nicodemus was the last magic she had permitted. A day or two more and the spell would wear off. His high Were metabolism would again kick in. Without food, he would waste away quickly. If Risa wasn’t back by Saturday, I would have to go over her head and speak with her Alpha, Grey Gryphon.

As she noted my somberness, Betz’s arrogant expression slipped away. “What’s wrong with him?”

I looked at her, my gaze unwavering. “He’s in a coma.”

She shook her head. “That’s not possible. We heal everything that’s not fatal.” Suddenly angry, she asked, “Did a healer do this? Have them undo it immediately.” She jerked her hand, pointing at Rom. “Romulus will heal fast enough awake. We have business.”

This time, I was the one shaking my head. I sat on a chair near the bed. Betz did the same, looking at Rom with confusion and a fear I didn’t understand. “No healer did this. There was a battle. Rom rushed in to save my life and the lives of everyone with me and was hit by a large blast of black magic. All the Weres had been warded, but his shield cracked, splintering the magic. Part of it hit his head and lodged in his brain, causing irreparable damage before it was purged. The healers can’t say if he will wake or if he does what sort of man he’ll be.”

Betz didn’t say a word. We sat there for several minutes letting her absorb the situation. Despite her dry eyes, she seemed more distraught than I expected. From what I’d gathered, theirs was an arranged marriage. But for a woman who wasn’t marrying for love, she looked as if the rug had been pulled out from under her.