The Hob (The Gray Court 4) (29 page)

“Near the ship.” Robin’s voice had become a hissing whisper, a remembrance of what it had once been. Already he could feel himself slipping into complete formlessness, but he had to hold on.

Once McNeil was dead, he would gather his love’s body, and together they would slip into the abyss.

“There.” A disturbance on the surface of the river, but Robin held back. “It’s bait.”

“I gathered. McNeil wouldn’t be so obvious.” Raven looked around and pointed toward the ship. “There. I’d bet anything he’s on board.”

“That’s not—”

“The
SS United States
, I know.” The luxury yacht docked so incongruously near the industrial section of the waterfront raised Robin’s eyebrows as well. “It’s getting ready to set sail.”

Indeed, Robin could hear the sound of the engines firing up. “Then by all means, let’s make it a ghost ship.”

Raven grinned, the lust for blood obviously riding him hard. Together they dove for the yacht, using their powers to keep the humans from seeing them. The yacht was pulling away from the dock, rapidly heading out into the middle of the Delaware River.

Good. Robin would follow it out past the mouth of the river and into the sea. There, he would shred McNeil’s heart and unravel his soul, as he’d done to Robin.

“Can you smell him?”

Robin nodded. He no longer had a face to lift to the wind, but the stench of the
each uisge’
s evil was strong, flowing behind the yacht like a tattered black banner.

“When?”

Robin saw the way Raven’s claws flexed. Claws had also ripped through the fronts of his boots. He looked like the Raven Lord in truth as he called his pets to him.

“At sea.”

Raven nodded, gliding silent and invisible in the midst of his black birds. Whatever Robin and Raven left behind on that boat, the birds would feast on, leaving nothing behind but a mystery for the humans to talk about.

They waited a good ten minutes once the yacht had left the mouth of the river before descending on it silently, ready to execute McNeil. Raven landed first, quickly killing the pilot with a slash of his claws across the man’s throat.

Robin waited. McNeil would make for the water once he realized he’d been boarded. When he did, Robin would be waiting for him.

Raven proceeded to move about the yacht like the wrath of god, destroying anyone who got in his way. He was swift and merciless, sparing none.

Robin was reluctantly impressed.

There. McNeil, at the back of the ship, moving toward the deck and freedom. Robin dove for him just as McNeil jumped, catching the
each uisge
inside the formless, death-dealing mist that made up his body.

McNeil screamed as the jagged edges of Robin’s grief dug into his flesh and Robin’s rage scored his skin. The gray smoke that made up his body turned red with McNeil’s blood. Robin slowly lowered himself to the deck, inflicting wounds every time he so much as twitched, and waited for Raven to join him. He could feel McNeil within him trying to break free, but Robin held fast.

“There you are.”

The silky-smooth tones Raven used to address the
each uisge
were so similar to Robin’s own that he nearly lost control. Had Michaela loved his voice as much as he’d loved hers?

McNeil shrieked as Robin swirled around him.

Raven whistled low. “Damn, Father. It’s like you placed him inside a giant, swirling cheese grater.” He tsk’d. “That’s gotta hurt, McNeil.”

“Let me go.” McNeil’s body twisted, transformed into his rarely seen true form: the torso of a human, the teeth of a lion, and the head and legs of a horse. His hands sported five lion’s claws instead of morphing into hooves. The sharp hooves at the end of his legs kicked out, meeting resistance from Robin. Robin held fast, refusing to allow the
each uisge
to free itself.

McNeil would finally face justice.

McNeil squirmed in Robin’s grasp, causing more slashes and cuts to appear on its dark skin. “Release me!”

“I will drag you into the abyss.” Robin’s voice had become a whispered hiss, barely audible over the sound of the sea.

Raven looked into Robin’s eyes and smiled. Robin nearly wept at the anguish he could see growing in his son’s gaze. He knew. Somehow, Raven understood that once McNeil was dead, Robin would begin to fade, to join his love in the beyond. And the knowledge was killing his child.

Raven nodded once and then turned his attention back to McNeil. He thrust his hand into Robin’s sharp mist and ripped one of McNeil’s fingers off his hand. He made it seem easy, like ripping a breadstick in half. “No.”

McNeil shrieked with rage, but neither man cared.

Michaela would be avenged.

“Hell and damnation.” Oberon sighed as he stared at the shattered window. “Robin. Damn it. If you’d only waited.” He slowly stood, holding the battered form of Robin’s mate in his arms.

The scent from her blood was…familiar. Intriguing.

Fae.

Yes. The nearly insane thought running through his head made him smile. It was possible. It could be done. It would save both Robin and Michaela, but would cost Oberon.

He could do this. For Robin, who’d always given him everything, Oberon could do this one thing and save them all.

Robin would have to find them on his own, though. Oberon could not do what needed to be done here. He’d take the girl back to the Gray Palace and there, he would save his best friend’s wife.

“My king?” Kael, looking bruised and full of grief, keened at the sight of Michaela’s limp body, but he stepped forward, his bow off-kilter. He had not remained undamaged. A gash over his forehead was bleeding profusely, staining the pale blond locks red. Bruises were visible on his jaw and his arms, along with numerous shallow cuts. One arm was held at an odd angle. Oberon was willing to bet it was broken. And from the way his pupils were unevenly dilated, he had a concussion on top of all of that. “Allow me to protect you until Robin returns or a true Blade arrives.”

Oberon smiled. The boy would do nicely. Even injured, he reacted in a way that would make Robin proud. “A true Blade is already here. We just need to make it official.”

Kael’s face went white. “Oh. Cool.” He then leaned over and proceeded to puke all over the scorched carpet.

Oberon sighed. He’d have to get the boy healing. He waited until the retching stopped. “Take hold of my arm.” Kael’s grip was shaky but firm.

“Snod will go too.”

Oberon had completely forgotten the redcap. “I think not.” He turned to face the creature, only to be stunned.

The redcap was crying, silent tears running down its cheeks as it looked at the woman in Oberon’s arms. Snod wiped his cheeks with the back of his hand like a child. “I will go, and protect my lady.”

Snod was just as blood-soaked as the rest of them, just as damaged, but he stood straight and tall even as tears continued to roll down his cheeks. The sorrow in his beady little eyes had Oberon sighing in defeat. “Very well. Grab hold, then.”

Oberon silently teleported the four of them to the Gray Palace. “Harold!”

“Sire?”

Oberon strode for his personal chambers. There, hidden in the center of the palace, he would perform the rite that would bring Michaela back. “Kael is an apprentice Blade. He’s been injured. Send for the healer to see to him. Also, the redcap is Lady Goodfellow’s personal guard.” If possible, Snod stood even straighter. “See to it that his injuries are tended as well.” He turned to the redcap. “I’ll be taking your oath when your lady is well again.”

Snod bowed. “Yes, Sire.”

“Sire? Lady Goodfellow?” Harold’s voice was full of concern. The brownie had a soft spot for Robin and his antics. The knowledge that he’d truebonded had caused the brownie much joy.

He spared his butler a quick glance. “I will tend to her myself.”

“I can heal him.”

The quiet, melodic voice caught his attention like nothing else ever had. Oberon turned and found himself staring at…

Hell and damnation. It’s her.

She was a tall, thin, rather gangly woman with a face that was too long to be called pretty, too interesting to be called plain.
Arresting
was the word that came to mind. Her full, bow-shaped lips were curved downward in a worried frown. Her nose was slightly crooked, as if she’d broken it at some point and it hadn’t quite healed right.

Her eyes were absolutely huge even in her human Seeming, a turquoise so bright Oberon wondered if they were even brighter in her merform, for he had no doubt one of the sea folk stood before him. Intelligent and brilliant, they were her best feature.

Her forehead was really a five head, further elongating her face. She’d made an attempt to hide it with bangs, but it didn’t work. Her hair in her human Seeming was chocolaty brown, but Oberon was certain it would be sea green in her true form. She currently had it pulled back in a ruthlessly tight ponytail, her sharply cut bangs hitting her eyebrows.

She had a sharp, pointed chin and quirked, full eyebrows he just knew would be firm when she argued, soft when she smiled. She wore tight jeans, low-heeled brown ankle boots and a snow-white crochet sweater that hit her mid–thigh.

On her finger was a distinctive pearl ring Oberon recognized immediately.

This was the missing Princess Cassandra Nerice of the Court of Atlantis, and Oberon’s future bondmate.

For the first time since Titannia’s betrayal, Oberon’s body reacted to the sight of a woman. His cock swelled painfully, almost tenting his slacks. He’d had dreams of this woman that rivaled the most ribald actions he’d ever taken, both before and during his time with his faithless ex-wife.

And he wanted to act out each and every one of them on her, to see if she was as limber as she looked, as daring as she seemed.

He could not allow her to see his reaction. No woman would ever have that kind of power over him again. “I have a Blade who needs your skill, your Highness.” She winced, whether at his cool tone or her title, he knew not, nor did he care.

He could not afford to care.

“I might be able to help with her, as well.” Her hands were shoved deep in her pockets, so she pointed with her chin toward Michaela.

“Is this why you returned, your Highness?” Harold’s guilty gaze darted toward Oberon. “My liege, I—”

Oberon’s brows rose. “You knew the princess was hiding at Lord Goodfellow’s?”

“The Child of Dunne, he…” Harold’s ruler-straight shoulders slumped. “He said it was for the good of the Court, sire.”

Oberon shook his head. “And you didn’t think to inform me of what was going on?”

“Do we really have time for this?” Princess Cassandra waved her hand toward Michaela. “The longer you delay, the more likely it is you won’t be able to bring her back. Her soul will be beyond even your grasp.”

“You are aware of what I’m going to attempt?” How was that possible?

She shrugged. “You’re going to do
something
or you wouldn’t be carrying her the way you are.”

“And how is that?”

She looked at him out of those huge, intelligent eyes. “Like she’s precious.”

Oberon nodded once. “Indeed. Now, if you would, take care of my Blade. I have much work to do if my plan is to succeed.” He didn’t, but the less she knew the better. What he would do was simplicity itself. It would strengthen Michaela, make her one of them, and bleed Oberon damn near dry.

It would render him vulnerable, and for that reason more than any other he had to keep the princess away from him.

“Yes, sire.” Princess Cassandra bowed perfectly, turned on her heel, and took Kael’s arm. “Follow me, please.”

Oberon couldn’t help it. He watched the princess lead his Blade away. The urge to follow was so strong he actually took a step in their direction, ready to follow her like a puppy. He shook his head, hoping to clear her from his thoughts, and looked at the body in his arms.

Princess Cassandra was right on one point. He did not have much time.

Where was she?

Where the fuck was she?

He tore through the Gray Palace, a mist of pure vengeance. Someone had taken his truebond.

Someone had stolen her from him.

“Hobgoblin.”

There. That voice. He recognized it. That was the one who had stolen his truebond, who’d taken away his chance to carry her to the abyss with him.

With a roar he charged the silver-haired man, ready to rip and tear and destroy.

“Calm yourself, Hobgoblin.”

That voice was able to reach him, the part that had once been civilized. He remembered that, along with laughing brown eyes and an earth-shattering trust.

“Robin.”

Robin. Yes. That had been his name.

“You need to stop, Robin.”

He shuddered. That
voice
. How could he be hearing that voice? That voice was dead, gone, oh, so precious.

“Please, for me?”

He turned his attention to the small female standing by the silver–haired man’s side. She should not be there. She should be by
his
side.