The Dream Crafter (30 page)

The berserker stilled, focused, and, for the first time in its existence, hesitated as it took in the woman standing before him. She was weaponless, a woman trapped among the most dangerous of men, and here in front of her, he understood those words.

She studied him for several moments, and when he had no reaction, moved back to the end of the table, releasing him from the magnetic energy which surrounded her. Beautiful air filled his lungs again, the only clue he hadn’t been breathing as she stood before him.

Such a worthy opponent…

Red hair and gold eyes…

click

“Fallon?”

Like quicksilver, the fierce attitude left and now she looked pleased, almost abashed. “Really? You guys talk about me in here?
Excellent!
” And she sat back down across from him.

Fallon. The Guild.
His sister.

Fucking gods, what was going
on
?

“Where’s Amana?” He wasn’t going to deny it. If they were here, they knew enough. The only thing that meant a damn to him was Amana’s safety.

She pointed at him, motioning between his still standing body and the chair. “Are you going to go beast-mode, or can we talk? Because we are going to be talking of unpleasant things, and I don’t want to put you down, not after the bitching I had to deal with to get here.”

“The berserker doesn’t control me.”
Not yet.

“Don’t imagine I can’t see that little addendum you added in your head right then, but that isn’t my concern.” She leaned back, her eyes steady on him. “Don’t bother lying to me, just listen to my words. Your sister was working for us, and the terms of the deal were if she helped us, we’d get you out.”

Something had gone wrong.
It was the only explanation, because Amana wasn’t here, and he wasn’t breathing the free air. Not that anyone trusted the Guild, but they wouldn’t be here to gloat over him. Something else was happening. “Where is Amana now?”

Fallon’s head tilted, and she kicked back further into the seat. “Your sister is no longer under our control. The job involved taking an item from Merc – I assume you know that name too, considering half the people in here have done jobs with him?” Yeah, he knew the name, and if Amana was around that fucker… His gut tightened, and at his nod, Fallon continued. “Well, Merc is Merc, and getting the best of him is near impossible. Bottom line, mission failed and he has your sister.”

“Is Amana alright?”

“As of last night, she was alive. Last sighting of her, no one noticed any obvious wounds. Other than that, I don’t know.”

Her voice held more emotion when she was asking about the scenery spell earlier than about his sister possibly being dead, and he couldn’t focus on the hatred that fact brought up, because he wouldn’t give any excuse to be thrown in the hole while his sister was in danger. “Why are you here?”

She leaned forward, her manner intent. “I have no interest in what happened ten years ago, and I have no need in seeing any type of justice served, if such a thing is possible. I only care about what your sister was supposed to get me, which is a Spellbook.”

“You don’t care my sister is under Merc’s control?” He needed to know absolutely where his sister stood with them.

“Nope. Why, you want me to lie about that? Would me getting weepy make you feel better?”

No. If she did that, he might let the berserker have full control. He wanted her honesty, because that was the way he was going to get his sister. “Tell me why you’re speaking to me. You can’t be here for the pleasure of torturing me with this information.”

“You want your sister. I want the Spellbook. Merc has both. So I’m going to get you out of here and aim you in his direction, and hope you can find the bullseye.”

Hundreds of fragments of thoughts, questions, and feelings shot through him, and through them all cut the only truth that mattered. “I only care about my sister.”

“Yeah, well, if Merc is dead, it’s easy enough to pick up a book next to him, isn’t it? That book is your ticket to freedom, after all.”

“I’ll be able to remain free?” His heart beat triple-time, shock speeding the muscle as if to process the words faster.
Freedom.
He pretended for his sister, but he never…not really…

Fallon clucked her tongue, like a schoolmarm at a disruptive student. “Depends. I want the Spellbook. You put that Spellbook in my hands, you get to stay out. I don’t get the Spellbook, you’re returning, only this time your sister won’t be on the allowed visitors schedule.”

That would be signing his death warrant. If he no longer had Amana to wait for, he had nothing. “And if I decide not to come back no matter what? Take my sister and run?”

“Do you really think this is my first rodeo? How dumb do you think I am? Let me be really clear, lest your prison-damaged psyche get any ideas. If you decide to grab your sister and run, I will make it my life’s mission to hunt her down and I’ll sic every god, wizard, and demon I can on both of you.” There was almost a note of the comical in Fallon’s declaration, a shade of exaggeration, but now her gaze locked with his and all humor, all flippancy left her bearing, and hairs rose on the back of his neck. “You don’t want to see what I’ll do to her if you run.”

No, he wouldn’t run. After Amana was safe, he’d get the Spellbook or die in the pursuit. “I’ll agree…on one condition.”

Fallon’s eyebrows rose, but that was the only sign of surprise on her face. “Go on, I’m listening.”

“If my sister is…” His throat closed, went raw. It was too close a possibility, and every superstitious bone revolted at mentioning that word. He breathed deep and pressed forward. “If my sister is dead, you don’t put me back here until I kill him and anyone else who might be involved. After that, I don’t care what you do to me, but the Guild lets me
hunt
.”

Those gold eyes went shrewd, and it took only half a second before she nodded, rising from the chair and making her way to the door, motioning for him to follow. “Let’s go show you what the world’s looking like these days.”

‡

“I
’ve found Hadrien.”

At Nemesis’s voice, Merc jerked up from the drowsy semi-slumber he and Amana were sharing right now, where he made lazy circles on her back, enjoying the sleep-warmed skin under his palm. “Who has him? And will they give him to you?”

“The Blackguard, and diplomatic talking hasn’t produced any results yet.”

Amana was looking at him now, rising to lean up on her elbows to shamelessly eavesdrop on the conversation. “Do you know where he is?”

Nemesis’s snort over the stupidity of that question came through loud and clear. “The Tower, of course.”

“Of course.” It wasn’t the true headquarters of the Blackguard – no one knew where that was – but it was their public base and therefore, very well guarded. “Any chance they’ll move him since your people are talking to him?”

“No need, I’m afraid. They know mine won’t force an issue, and you aren’t stupid enough to go after him there. You
aren’t
stupid enough to go after him there, are you?”

“Tell me how I have a choice?” And a part of him wished she could, because no one sane would ever wish to go against the Tower without an army at their disposal.

“That I can’t do.”

“Guess that means I’m going then.”

Amana poked him then, and he grabbed her hand, kissed her fingers as Nemesis said, “I’ve been forbidden from interfering on this case.”

The words might be ominous, but Nemesis’s voice was light and teasing, not the type of thing he’d expect from someone giving him bad news. “Oh yeah?”

She continued, same easy tones and the drawl maybe a shade thicker than normal. “Yeah, but no one said I couldn’t offer an old friend a ride when he doesn’t have a car. Or leave him keys to a car on the other end. And if he finds a note while poking around in my glove box that shows where Hadrien is housed, well, that can’t be my fault.”

The pressure on his chest lightened a little. With her credentials no one would stop her and ask about her passenger, and as long as there was a car on waiting for him and Hadrien, he could get the little piss-ass away before Griffith could make a fuss. Well, that might be a little too optimistic, but he’d take what he could get. “Who could have a problem with friends helping each other with rides?”

“That’s what I figure. Tonight, eight, and don’t be late.”

He laughed, the glee of an impossible situation becoming a little less impossible infusing him. “I can guarantee that won’t happen.”

He wasn’t even sure he hit the disconnect button when Amana asked, “Who was that? What’s going on?”

He leaned down to give her a quick, claiming kiss, letting the feel of her buoy him up a even more. “Nemesis, and we know where Hadrien is, and I’m getting him tonight.”

That woke Amana sat up, excitement in her wide eyes and the hands clasping around his arm. “Where is he?”

“Blackguard, as I expected. But Nemesis knows how to grab him, and she’s giving us a ride there.”

“Will it be safe for you?” Amana pulled back, her happiness dimming as worry mixed with the previous excitement.

He wound his hand in her hair and pulled her for a deeper kiss, his mouth meeting hers with all the adoration he held for her. “Safer than you going after him, so don’t go down that road again. And if we can clear this, it’s over. You and I can move on with our lives. We’ll break this bound and then get Nakoa free, and after that, we’ll be living on the run, but we’ll be together. Think your brother will like me?”

Amana looked like her every dream had just come true. “He’ll think you’re the best thing that ever happened to me, because that’s the truth.”

‡

N
emesis was the
kind of woman who could make you feel insignificant. She had an easy self-assurance about her, a half-lidded stare that was deceptive to how much she was taking in, and a quiet, slightly off-kilter beauty where it took several minutes being around the woman for the brain to realize how stunning her combination of features were. She pulled up beside them in a ride that screamed classic muscle, and Amana climbed in the backseat while Merc went up front.

“No one can say you are inconspicuous,” Merc said after introductions had been made and they started on their journey.

“No reason for me to
be
inconspicuous, darlin’, cause it’s not like I’m doing anything wrong,” said Nemesis, her voice carrying an edge of Southern hospitality and her attitude all in-charge.

“Of course not.”

As she ferried them, Nemesis’s eyes kept meeting hers from the rearview mirror. The other woman was studying her, setting her on some type to scale to see if she was wanting or not. After several minutes of easy back-and-forth with Merc and rearview glances, Nemesis said, “You’ve got Merc more twisted than I’ve ever seen.”

Merc gave a small groan of protest, but Nemesis’s dark eyes in that mirror made Amana understand this was not easy chatter, this was an interrogation. Whatever label they would put on their relationship, the fact was, this woman was who Merc went to when hope was running in the opposite direction and everyone else scattered. She stood before necromancers and the Guild and got the information Merc needed. They might not be blood, but they fit her definition of family.

“It’s not like I can’t say the same about him.” It was more personal, more
revealing
, than Amana was comfortable with, but the flash of approval from Nemesis – as well as the shy grin that streaked across Merc’s face – made the revelation worth it.

“Does that mean after all this is over I’m going to see Merc settle down and get to play Auntie to a bunch of rugrats?”

Merc blushed like a schoolboy, a
“Hey!”
escaping, but Amana held his gaze, willing everything she believed into her eyes. “I don’t think any man on this world would be a finer father than Merc.”

His answering gaze was hot on her, and her throat went thick with images of what awaited them, together, after this was over.

“Break it up you two, I don’t allow eye fucking in my car,” and Amana’s embarrassment was totally worth it to see how red Merc could get.