The Trouble with Fate (39 page)

Oh, Trowbridge.

The picture that had fascinated Mannus was back on the mantel, a little off center.
Bridge’s family was caught frozen in time, smiles wide, wearing their best duds, all
lined up beside a wedding cake. Four months later, they’d all be dead, except of course,
Mannus, and the supposed traitor in the middle of the photo; the groom with an easy
smile, and tense eyes, who was marrying his Candy.

A visual reminder of loyalty and treachery, I guess.

Biggs returned, huffing as he dragged Cordelia into the room. He propped her in the
corner near the television. I would have taken Cordelia for dead, what with her head
tilted to one side, her mouth open, and a silver knife jammed in her gut, if not for
the slow rise of her chest. A big wide red oval stain circled the impaled blade, forever
ruining her Ann Taylor shirt.

I strained to listen to her heart. It was there, weak and sluggish, but there.

Her hands lay open palmed on the dusty wood floor.

Another broken soul.

The iron was making me sleepy. I kept jerking my eyes open, and each time they blearily
refocused, they landed on the Trowbridge family photo.

*   *   *

Somewhere in the house, a cell phone rang. Mannus returned holding his cell a few
minutes later.

“Got it.” The Alpha snapped his phone closed. “They’re on their way.”

Mannus walked to the window, absently kneading his lower back with one hand while
he inspected the sinking sun. “Your kind made my life hell. I thought I got rid of
the lot of you.” He grimaced. “Do you know the pack still talks about your family?
They think you haunt the pond, because they never found your body. Every so often
someone thinks they caught a glimpse of a little blond girl in a white nightgown playing
by the water with her brother.”

Mannus’s lip curled in a sneer. “A few years ago a bunch of kids got brave and brought
their sleeping bags to the fairy pond. They came running home with their tails between
their legs, claiming they saw purple fog and lights over the water. I went there the
next night, but I never saw any fairy lights. Stuart, how many days did I make you
patrol the fairy pond?”

“Thirty, Alpha.”

“And you never saw any lights or fog. How about you, Dawn?”

“No, sir.” She picked at her fingernail.

“The young ones still talk about it, though, behind my back. Little bastards.” He
focused his gaze broodingly at Stuart. “Society is going to hell. We’ve got to start
over.” He let out a deep sigh and collapsed into his chair. “I’ve passed through that
portal. Felt the taste of its mist on my tongue.” His fingers drummed the armrests.
“Someone is trying to open it. I thought it was Louise, but now I know that she’s
been here ever since they closed the gates.” He formed a steeple with his fingers
then studied the half-assed church made by them. “Tell me, Helen, where is your brother?”

I had my teeth clamped so tight, my jaw hurt.

“Do you really want me to hurt your mate again?” Mannus sighed. “Someone rouse Robson.”

“Lexi’s safe in Merenwyn,” I said.

“Then he’s the one trying to open the gates.”

I felt my lips tremble and tightened them into a thin line.

“See, Stuart? I told you the Fae were coming. We’re only just in time.” Mannus chewed
the inside of his cheek. “It’s beautiful over there. Fields and forests as far as
the eye can see. I’d never felt stronger or more alive. It was … I don’t know how
to describe it.” He rubbed one of his swollen knuckles. “Their Pool of Life does something
to you. It takes the magic you were born with and I don’t know … magnifies it somehow.
I changed into my wolf, right there under their sun. I didn’t have much of a flare
before, but after that—I was Superman.” The memory made him smile. “I felt like I
had two beams of light coming from my eyeballs. I was twice as strong and doubly as
handsome.”

Mannus was lost in reverie and totally oblivious to the way Stuart had suddenly stiffened
after he’d dropped the “flare” bomb. “Once we have the Royal Amulet,” he continued,
“my mate and I are going to swim in that pond again. And then, we’re going to hold
the doors to Merenwyn open and let my people come.”

So that’s the game Lou was playing. She was going to lure him into the portal and
then lose him on the way to Merenwyn. A little smile creased my lips.

“You find that amusing?” Mannus snapped. “What exactly do you find amusing?”

There’s times when you have to use a little crumb of truth, to hide a much bigger
chunk of fact. “Lou won’t do it,” I said evenly.

“Lou won’t do it,” he mimicked. “Louise wants to go home. She’ll take me.”

“Going through the portal will break the Treaty,” I said, thinking of the Weres he
would have led into Merenwyn. “The punishment for that is death.”

“That would be important only if I wanted to negotiate. I told you, I don’t negotiate.
It will be war. We have surprise on our side, and access to something they haven’t
had to worry about in fifty years.” He walked over to me and touched the dog collar
around my neck, and then leaned down to watch my face as he said, “We have iron.”
Using his thumb, he rolled the hanging locket up so it burned the underside of my
chin. His eyes creased into slits when I flinched.

“One pound of iron filings in the royal house’s well and they’re done,” he said. “That’s
just the beginning. When I’m finished with them, there won’t be a single living Fae
left in Merenwyn.”

*   *   *

A car pulled up outside. Biggs opened the front door to shepherd in a tall, nervous
Were still in his late teens. From the way his gaze darted around the hallway, I figured
he thought he’d finally made it to the big time. He didn’t quite genuflect in the
presence of Mannus, but he did perform an uncool head bob as he wordlessly passed
a Ziploc freezer bag to his Alpha. Then he further solidified his geek status by jumping
out of his skin when Dawn touched his sleeve to lead him to the back of the house.

Biggs sat on the bottom stair. His clever eyes watched us through the railings.

“This can’t be it,” said Mannus, looking at the large lump in the bag.

Lou had come down the stairs a few minutes ago. Whatever they’d done upstairs had
made her a little stronger, and a lot less wraithlike. And that, somehow, was far
worse. She stood beside her mate; anticipation contorting her face into a mask of
greed and excitement. Under the hall’s light, she seemed even thinner, as if all the
fat and muscle had been burned off until all that was left was bone and sinew. Combine
that with the crazy-lady intensity, and … I wanted to cover my mouth at the awfulness
of it, but couldn’t, so settled for sucking my lips inward and biting down on them.

“It has to be,” Lou said sharply. “I can sense Fae gold.”

Mannus swung the bag out of her reach. “Not till we’re at the fairy pond.”

“It’s the Royal Amulet. Ebrel can feel it.”

“Put your hand down. I don’t want Ebrel calling to it.”

She looked impatient, but she tucked her calling hand into her armpit. “Let me see.”
She paused and then added, “Please.” Mannus dug in the bag and brought them out. He
hung them off his finger so that they pirouetted in front of us. Lou inhaled sharply
and then turned slowly to me. “You let your pet attach itself to my amulet?”

“What?” Mannus said.

“Her mother’s amulet is wound around the Royal Amulet.”

He frowned at them. “I’ll rip it off.”

“You may damage the Royal Amulet.” Lou’s voice developed an edge. “Leave it for now.
I know how to get it off.”

“Is her mother’s amulet of any use?”

“No. It was keyed to my sister’s blood, not mine.” She sniffed. “Without my sister,
it’s no more than a child’s pet.”

“I don’t like it,” said Mannus. “Take it off.”

“I need to be at the Pool to remove it.”

“We’ll see about that.” Mannus held them in front of me. The amulets rotated in the
space between us. First a view of Merry. Then a view of the Royal Amulet. First her,
then him.

My throat felt raw. I opened my mouth to say something to Merry, to explain, to say
“I’m sorry” and discovered that there was nothing I could say beyond “Forgive me.”
And how useless was that? I closed my mouth and watched her rotate until her spins
petered out, and then she just hung there, facing me. Mud was embedded into the filigree
of her gold. A fat streak of it dulled the smooth belly of her stone.

“Did you do this?” Mannus said.

My gaze rested on Merry clinging to the Royal Amulet. “I did.”

“Undo it. Now.”

“Can’t.” I looked at him and tried to smile. “It’s a done deal.”

They didn’t kill me. Or pull out the knife and start on Bridge again. I got another
bruise on my face, but that was from Mannus doing the eyeball-to-eyeball flare thing.
He seemed big on grabbing chins and squeezing them as he stared into your eyes.

“You said you’d stop that,” Lou said, from over his shoulder. His head turned, and
I was treated to his profile. “I know how to remove it. I can do it at the pond.”

“It better be all right.” He slid them back into the Ziploc bag, and stuffed it into
his pocket. Then he stepped behind me. His knife blade pinched my cringing back as
he sawed through my duct-tape bindings.

“Now,” he said, into my ear, in his soft, lethal voice. “You’re going to come with
us to the fairy pond. And if there’s any problem with these amulets, I’m going to
personally cut my nephew’s throat while you watch.” He paused to let me absorb that.
“Then we’ll start on your fingers. You got that? Stuart,” he said. “Bring Robson.”

Chapter Twenty-two

There was still light outside the Trowbridge home, but it was dying light. Grayed
down except for the western sky, where the sun was now turning an unlikely pink-red.
Shutting the homestead’s door, Stuart said, “Alpha, what do you want done with the
fag?”

Mannus gave an indifferent shrug. “It’s no longer useful.” His attention was on the
sweater he was fussily draping over Lou’s shoulder.

Stuart said to Biggs, “Take care of it. Then come down to the pond to help watch the
prisoners.”

Kill the prisoners,
I thought.

Biggs disappeared into the house.

Trowbridge was crumpled on the paint-blistered porch, unable to stand after Dawn teased
the silver chains from his wounds when it’d become evident that he was too weak to
walk on his own and too much of a silver-festering problem to carry. She’d got them
all, except the one across his belly. There the skin had tried to knit itself whole,
burying the silver chain under a scarred seam, and had mostly succeeded, except for
a place at the right edge, where his flesh had refused to bond. It had left a small
weeping hole. Blood and pus oozed from it, dyeing his shorts’ once-white waistband.

He was so weak.

They kept us apart, which angered Dawn, as it had fallen to her to look after me.
I wasn’t that difficult to guard. I’d stopped weeping. I stood, head slightly bowed,
hands hanging limply by my side. Frightened to my core.

“It’s going to be a beautiful night.” Mannus pulled Lou’s arm through his. He gave
her a quick charming smile. “Perfect for travel.” They started across the lawn.

Scawens cupped a hand to call. “Kid!” When the teenager appeared in the doorway, Stuart
cocked a thumb at Trowbridge and said, “I’ll need help bringing this prick down to
the pond.”

Dawn pushed me forward.

Trowbridge’s dad would have never recognized his property. When I had been a child,
the home’s landscaping had been fastidious, and in my personal opinion, fussy. Sometime
since, the pack had stopped using the mower and now the once carefully tended lawn
was hinterland, filled with the disorder of prickle weeds and the pod-stippled stalks
of last year’s milkweed. Scawens and the kid hoisted up my mate, and I followed them
as they led the way across Trowbridge’s lawn, all of us funneling into a single file,
picking our way through the nettles toward the line of trees that marked the beginning
of the untouched forest that ringed the Trowbridge home. I knew, even without looking
up, where we were headed. But I did glance up, and felt another dribble of dread.
In the waning daylight, the path to the pond seemed like a dark tunnel, the trees
black and forbidding over it.

Bad things waited at its end.

“Let’s go,” said Dawn to me.

I fell down, elbows first, healing hands tucked protectively into my chest. Dawn grabbed
my shirt and tugged me back onto my feet. I took a few more weaving steps across the
weed-choked lawn then sank to my knees. Her boot hit my ass. I curled up into a defensive
comma. She hit me again. It struck me on the third kick that I was doing a pretty
good job of looking ill. It wasn’t that difficult—every time the iron touched the
hollow of my throat I had to swallow down bitter bile. And truth be told, it didn’t
hurt much. Somewhere my body had cut the ties to the neural pathways, overwhelmed
by the horror and cold conviction that if I walked into the throat of the forest with
the iron bell tinkling at my throat, I’d never walk out again.

“You stupid bitch,” said Dawn. “Stop doing that.” She grabbed me by the hair and pulled
upward. I felt my eyes slit as my skin stretched.

“Take her collar off,” Stuart said to her. “She’s slowing us down.”

Dawn sneered. “She’s just pretending.”

I brought a hand up to my mouth and gave Stuart a guileless look.

“Take it off,” he said. “I don’t want to miss anything.”

Her fingers fumbled at my neck and finally I was free. I hid my relief with another
feigned fist-covered burp. She grunted, irritated, and gave my shoulder a shove.

A gnarled root snaked across the path of beaten earth. I hesitated and was rewarded
by another hard shove. Fear ahead, and fear behind. I inwardly shrugged, and took
my first step into familiar woods. Ten years of absence collapsed under a deluge of
memories. Once, I’d wandered here at will. I’d learned which branch of the track led
to the field where the pack gathered for their moon runs. Memorized which turns would
take me to the crop of sunsweet berries. I’d spent hours on this footpath, trailing
after Lexi, half listening to his boy-proud boasts.