The Witching Hour (The Grim Reaper Saga (Urban Fantasy Romance)) (10 page)

Tamryn shuffled up, her shoulder braced under Harry’s arm. Harry leaned against her heavily, looking slightly worse for wear. Cracked lips, swollen eyes. That was gonna be one heck of a mug tomorrow.

They glanced at each other--an uncomfortable tension grew and twisted around them.

Finally Harry blurted out, “I’m going home.”

“Wait,” Tamryn said and turned to Eve. “You gonna be okay if...”

“Yeah.” She nodded, knowing her sister felt a need to tend to the sickly. Though if you asked her, Harry was really milking it with that ridiculous woebegone expression on his face. Pathetic. Men. Catch a little cold and it was like doomsday, their world was thrown into a tailspin.

“Go. Go.” She shooed Tamryn and Harry off. “Just be safe and call me when you get there. K?”

Tamryn nodded, and walked off murmuring soft words of encouragement.

“Oh brother,” Celeste said in an aside. “That bears begging to get a poor-baby lay. Well, I hope Tamryn’s smarter than that. He’s not gonna stick around after tonight, you ask me.”

Eve nodded, not really paying much attention to her sister. She couldn’t stop herself from repeatedly glancing at Cian. It was more than just the good looks. Something about the quiet, unpretentious stranger beckoned her. Somehow he seemed so familiar. Yet she knew that face was not one she’d ever have forgotten. What was it? The nagging thought teased at the back of her mind.

But nothing. The memory just wasn’t there. Infuriating. She wasn’t going to be able to go to bed tonight until she put the mystery of the man out her mind. She sighed. Nothing for it, she was in for a long night.

Cian was quiet, watching the alleyway warily. With a gentle grip he grabbed her elbow and steered her and Celeste in the opposite direction.

“I’ll walk you both back. Death still walks among us.”

“How dare he commit to that oath?” The Morrigan growled her disgust into hers and Dagda’s chambers.

Dagda hooked his thumbs together, quiet and contemplative. She stalked through the room. Her black gown trailed behind her agitated march like shadow.

She whirled on him, pointing her finger directly at his chest. “How dare he?”

He shrugged. “I couldn’t say.”

She flared her nostrils, the ivory of her skin mottled with anger, her eyes a glowing red. He inhaled her rage with each breath he took. It stretched inside him, powerful and malignant, spreading its poison throughout his body. He was immune to her sorcery, but the mortals had never been. This was how his queen incited her wars.

She looked like a warrior priestess, her multi-hued hair crackling around her head as a charmed cobra. “I’ll obliterate Frenzy for this.”

He took a deep breath, these were icy waters and he needed to tread lightly. “And what would that accomplish, Chaos?”

“Why do you care?” she snapped. “Is that any concern of yours?”

He cocked his head, feigning disinterest.

She narrowed her eyes, stalking toward him, slowly, methodically. “Why do you continue to involve yourself in these matters? What aren’t you telling me?”

“Nothing that concerns you, dear queen.” His tone was velvet edged in steel.

A wicked grin curved her lips. “So, we are once again at an impasse, fighting on the opposite side it would seem.”

He inclined his head.

The Morrigan licked her lips, now only mere inches from his grasp. Every nerve in his body was aware of her, the energy thrumming through her veins, the fire of fury in her eyes.

“A wager?” Her black brow cocked in challenge. “I get to the human first, she dies, as does Cian and Frenzy.”

Dagda grabbed her wrist, yanking her into his lap. She was stiff, but only for a minute. Then she relaxed and began to rub her nose down his neck.

“What makes you assume this is about the mortal woman?”

She bit his left ear lobe. Gentle at first, then hard enough to get his attention and make him wince.

“Don’t play the fool, Dagda.”

Shifting, he moved her directly over his hard length. Her eyes widened and she wiggled her bottom on him, making him groan in response.

“Fine,” he said, voice husky and full of desire. “I win and they live. Those are the terms.”

“What about the week Frenzy committed to?” Her warm breath spiked with mint, tickled his nose.

Digging his fingers into her waist, he strained against the desire to rip off her clothes and have her now.

“We let them have it and begin in earnest six days hence.”

She nipped the corner of his mouth. He tittered on the brink of an explosive violence.

“Maybe. Then again, maybe not.”

“Five days. Minimum.”

She inhaled. “Three.”

“Chaos,” he growled, “that is not acceptable.”

She sucked on his bottom lip. “Four. But that is all I’m willing to pledge.”

Clenching his jaw, he knew bargaining for more would be futile. When his Queen set her mind to something she was as unshakeable as stone. “So be it. It is sealed. I bind you to your oath.”

The air quickened with a hot rush of fire. Wind howled through the room, knocking books from shelves and glass containers from desks. Gradually the gale died and an unnatural lull filled the chamber. The pact had been sealed. Both understood the consequence of breaking it.

She smiled, a delighted glint in her royal blue eyes. She looked happy, ready to gloat. That didn’t bode well. The queen hid a secret. He could almost see the cogs in her head spinning. She’d already formulated her method of attack. The Celts called her the Goddess of war and strife for a reason, rarely could anyone out maneuver The Morrigan in strategy.

He frowned, only guessing at what she might be thinking. Knowing his queen, it would be something ingenious and devious. It was now up to him to figure out a way to thwart her. But for now his thoughts were of other things. With an animalistic growl he claimed her lips for his own.

***

The Morrigan sat up; clutching the sheet to her breasts, watching the slow rise and fall of her King’s chest. She slipped on her robe and tiptoed out the room. With silent steps she walked down to the rack room, Frenzy’s flogged and bloody body still hung from the chains.

She smiled, admiring her handiwork as she walked up to him. His breathing came out in short, shallow gasps.

“Listen to me,” she leaned in to whisper in his ear.

He turned bloodshot eyes to her. Even after all this, fear did not glitter in their depths.

“I’m releasing you. Find the witch,” she cocked her head, “don’t take her soul,” she paused, leaving the rest unsaid. By the question in his eyes, she knew he caught her meaning. Not taking ones soul had nothing to do with not harming. There was a difference. She lifted a brow and nodded, then continued, “Follow her. Gain her trust if you can, and when these four days are up, kill her.”

“I vowed a week,” he said through clenched teeth.

She grasped his chin, pulling his face toward hers. “Four days,” she hissed, “that is all. Follow her, then kill her. Is that clear?”

He ground his jaw and yanked away. “I’ll do as you say, my queen.” The words lacked warmth. No matter, what did she care whether death groveled at her feet, so long as they were loyal. And Frenzy was very loyal.

The Morrigan narrowed her eyes. “See that you do. I’m offering you penance, Frenzy. Don’t make me regret it.”

His nostrils flared. He reminded her of a caged panther. Incredible power and deadly grace with a flinty edge of insanity, perfectly diabolical her Frenzy was.

“I want no contact except for the day before her death. Come to me at the witching hour, I’ll make sure I’m alone.”

He nodded.

“Good.” She tipped her chin and ran her hands down his back, doing something she rarely did. Heal.

A black mist flowed from her palms into him, sealing the lacerations and stitching the flesh together. She was not of the great healer bloodline, but what she had was good enough. Within hours he’d be whole, for now, this would do. She reached up and released his bonds.

He rubbed his wrists. Hair like a sea of fire cloaked him to his knees.

“Here.” She shoved a pewter amulet against his chest.

He trapped her hand between his, yanking the chain from out her cold fingers and looked at it, then at her.

She pulled her hand back and growled, “So that Cian does not detect you. If you are to be around his mortal, your mark will be all over her. Cian must not discover the subterfuge. Keep it on at all times. You’ll remain cloaked by the charm within.”

Silver eyes narrowed, a dangerous gleam of madness burned in their depths. Grinding his jaw, he slipped it over his head. Muted blue light flared from out the amulet, covering him. He shone palest blue and then the light faded, swallowed into his flesh.

Frenzy was now undetectable to any fae. They could look at him but all they’d sense was the mark of mortality. Warm satisfaction seeped through her veins. Everything was going according to plan. There was no way she’d fail.

Who’d suspect the treachery she was about to put into motion?

She smiled.

“And how am I to get close to her?” He yanked on the amulet, gruff voice full of displeasure.

She patted his cheek, a mocking smile tilting one corner of her mouth. Impatience built inside her chest. The heaviness of budding anger settled in her gut. “Have you forgotten all your skills, Frenzy? Perhaps I was wrong in keeping you in my court so long.” Her fingers trailed up the ridged scars of his bare back. “I could always find another if you don’t feel up to it.” With a deft flick of her wrist she sank one of her nails in his flesh, not deep, but enough to draw blood.

He growled low in his throat and pulled out of her grasp. She laughed, licking the stain of blood off her nail.

Silver eyes swirled. Frenzy was so unpredictable, so animalistic. On the verge of insane. With none of Cian’s weakness toward mortals. The perfect scout.

“Wait out the night. You’ll know what to do on the morn’. And for your sake, do not fail me again.” Then she turned and fled back to her chambers and the warm body of her consort.

***

Eve’s heart was in her throat. Fire scorched her lungs as she ran barefoot through a wild thicket of trees. She gasped, sweat poured freely down her forehead.

The footsteps were gaining on her. Crashing through the trees, swishing aside the blades of grass.

Stones bit into her feet. She felt the sticky wetness and knew she bled, but she couldn’t stop. She had to keep running.

She pushed herself harder, her arms pumping, her muscles screaming in protest.

It was so dark. The sliver of moon the only light around for miles.

The footsteps were close.

An icy chill swept down her spine. She glanced behind her shoulder ignoring the stinging pain of tree branches slapping against her cheeks.

A dark silhouette followed, a barrel shape ripping through the woods with purpose.

A paralyzing fear gnawed at her brain.
Keep running. Don’t stop.

She twisted around trees, jumped over fallen branches. She slipped on a pile of dead leaves, her bloody feet making it slippery and wet, difficult to find traction.

She scrabbled for purchase, her nails clawing at the dirt until she stood upright.

Breath on her neck.

Oh Goddess.

Fingers grazing her back.

She tried to run away. Hard hands clamped onto her waist, pulling her down. Eve screamed through her teeth, her ankle twisting out from under her as she fell hard and wrapped her arms around her head.

Her heart was like the toll of bells, pounding in her throat, her head. A whispering wind riffled through the woods. Crickets chirped. Owls screeched and wolves howled.

Nothing happened. The breathing was still heavy, lungs grasping for air, but nothing was happening. Curiosity was a burning thing. Who was this? She had to see. Cautiously, she dropped her arms and opened her eyes.

“You,” she whispered, her fear turned to shock.

Solemn blue eyes studied her. Cian knelt before her.

“I’m sorry. So sorry,” he said, tracing her jaw with his knuckle. Then he leaned in and kissed her.

***

Eve shot up, pushing the covers off her legs. Her breathing came in short, sharp gasps. Her bedroom was bathed in shadow, the only light coming off the red lava lamp sitting on her dresser.

She blinked, trying to clear her head of the dream. Her mouth was dry, stale. She got up and wrapped herself in a bathrobe, rubbing her temple and releasing a shaky breath.

Shot full of adrenaline, her veins thrummed with it. That had felt so real. She touched her cheek, not feeling a physical sting but remembering the sharp slaps with a clarity that astonished.

She looked out the window, at the safety of the city, miles away from any forested area and wondered what the dream had meant.

It was dark outside, the moon a thin crescent dangling in the fog banked sky like a silver pendant. She leaned her head against the cool glass and closed her eyes.

Why had Cian been following her? Chasing her? Why had she felt such fear of death and then only comfort?