Artistic Vision (18 page)

Shane held himself still, barely. He wasn’t giving Klaussner the pleasure of seeing him squirm. “And that would be?”

“You.” Klaussner took the blade and ran it across the dragon tattoo, making sure to cut the wings.

Shane, horrified, scrambled to pull away from the blade.
Gods, please don’t let her wings be damaged.
“Why are you doing this?”

Klaussner smiled at someone standing above Shane’s head. “For love.”

Constance Malmayne stepped into the light, her blue-gray eyes hard, her sleek golden hair knotted at the base of her skull. She smiled at Klaussner, and suddenly Shane saw what had been missing in his visions recently. Cullen and Kaitlynn, even Charles himself, were but pawns in
Constance
Malmayne’s bid for power. The vision that danced before his eyes made his blood run cold. “Does Henri know that you’re planning to kill him?”

Constance smiled. “See, Hobart? I told you his visions would be useful.”

Wait.
Hobart
? “Does
He
know?” Shane tried not to twitch as the blade came close to his tattoo once more. If he moved the wrong way he was terrified he’d accidentally cripple Akane. He dared not say Robin’s name out loud, though he screamed it in his head. If he did say it aloud the two might outright kill him for fear of attracting the Hob’s attention.

“Does who know?”

“That you’re named after him.”

The blade paused. “No. But He will.” He looked up from the blood seeping from Shane’s flesh, those familiar green eyes strange in Klaussner’s thin, horned face. “I am my father’s son.”

The first black tentacle struck and Shane screamed, but when the poison pumped into his system the agony pushed him beyond even that.

Oh dear gods, this had better be worth it.

Akane streaked through the night sky, her wings beating furiously. Dark blood dripped from a cut across one of them, the pain a distant worry. Her wings worked and could carry her to her mate. That was all she cared about.

Akane could sense where Shane was. His blood scented the air, the sweet smell stronger the closer she got. It wouldn’t be long before the others came, before Jaden made his way to his bondmate’s brother, before Tristan tried to save what was left of his clan. Akane didn’t care.

The Malmaynes were dead. They just didn’t know it yet.

She wasn’t surprised they hadn’t taken Shane to the Malmayne estate. It would be too easy to figure out, too easy to check, and Jaden had proven he could get in and out at will. So taking Shane to another location was the smart thing to do.

Too bad for them they didn’t know how strongly bonded she already was to her hybrid mate. Shane’s scent filled her senses; his essence was etched across her soul. She’d be able to find him now no matter where in the world he went.

How could she have been so stupid? She’d finished the dragon mating yet still believed that somehow they would
not
wind up together. Shane deserved someone who could give him a normal life, not someone who would constantly put him in danger or be away from him for long periods of time. She’d known that from the start, but the gold flooding her system had ended all her resistance. She’d marked him, made him hers, and there was no taking that back. She should never have left her lover’s side, never left him vulnerable. It was her fault he’d been taken, and if he died she would curl up around him and die with him.

Had he known all along that dragons
literally
mated for life?

There. She’d found him, found the source of his pain. They’d taken him to an abandoned farm, the dilapidated house and barn ghosts of what the Dunne farm was. She swooped down toward the barn, his scent strongest there. She could hear low, murmuring voices, both familiar, both surprising. It was what she didn’t hear that terrified her.

Two beings breathed. Two. And neither of them was her mate.

Akane blew, fire erupting from her throat, engulfing the dry wood of the barn with her fury. Flames shot into the sky, a beacon to those who followed her.

Two figures ran out of the burning barn. Where was her mate?

Akane swooped down, her rage burning hotter than the fire behind her. On silent wings she glided, claws extended, intent on ripping, on shredding.

One of the running figures glanced back and, shrieking, shoved the other down. Akane got a glimpse of silver eyes and rumpled blonde hair. She chose to ignore the one who’d been shoved down, intent on capturing a Malmayne between her claws. She grabbed the female, making sure her claws dug into the woman’s sides before beginning her ascent.

The Sidhe female screamed and struggled, but it only served to dig Akane’s claws in deeper. Blood dripped down Constance’s sides and legs, the wounds deep. “Let me go!”

Akane laughed. “You took my mate.”

“He’s still alive! He—he’s in the barn!”
 

Akane looked, listened beneath the roaring of her flames, but no heartbeat could be detected. No breath stirred. “You lie. He’s not in there.” He couldn’t be. If he was inside then… No. She couldn’t think like that.

No heartbeat, no breath meant no life, and that was something Akane couldn’t accept.

“No! Hobart’s poison put him in a coma. We didn’t want him fi—fighting us.”

Akane clenched her hands, ignoring the female’s shrieks. “Why?”

“Transport,” the female gasped. “We needed to take him away.”

“To?”

“I can’t say!” The female gasped as Akane loosened her grip. She grabbed hold of Akane’s arms. “No! Please!”

Akane looked down. She’d taken the female high, high enough that simply letting go would be enough to kill. “Why should I let you live?”

The female was sobbing. “Please don’t.”

“Tell me who you were bringing him to.”

“No! He’ll kill me.”

Akane let go.

The female screamed, barely holding on to Akane’s arms. “I’ll tell, I’ll tell!”

Akane grabbed her again and headed toward the burning barn. “Who?”

The female told her a name that almost had Akane drop her, this time in shock.
 

Robin followed Leo out of the house in a foul mood. The Sidhe’s odd bond with his land had at least given them a heads’ up, but if Leo was correct then the man waiting for them was not one to be trifled with.

But then again, neither was Robin, and he’d danced with this one before.

“Ho, Bres.” Beside him, Leo jumped. It was rare that the leader of the redcaps came from his shadowy lair. The Fomorian was one of the oldest, and last, of his kind, and ruled the redcaps with an iron fist. He’d once been king of the Tuatha Dé and forced them to act as slaves to the Fomorian rulers. Now he ruled the most brutal thugs in the fae world.

Somehow he’d wound up with the beauty of both his Fomorian father and his Tuatha Dé mother, making him one of the most exquisite-looking people to ever walk the earth. Very few could resist his charm when he chose to employ it. Even fewer wished to incur his wrath. He was vicious to those who crossed him in any way.

Robin was not impressed.
 

Bres, his fair head bared in the moonlight, bowed. “Ho, Pan.”

Robin barely managed not to roll his eyes. It had been years since any called him that, false though it was. It was lucky for him that Pan had been amused to be associated with the Hob, finding Robin’s antics entertaining. So few of the Greek gods had that sense of fun Robin so prized that he’d been honored that Pan allowed the falsehood to stand, despite Robin’s objections.
 

To this day he lit incense in Pan’s honor.

Despite the god’s amusement, it wouldn’t do to be pretentious. The gods, even Pan, were capricious, and had a way of making their displeasure known in fascinating, albeit painful, ways. Allowing the falsehood to stand would be bad on a molecular level. As always, Robin objected. “I prefer Hob. Robin if you’re feeling friendly, but we both know you aren’t, yes?”

Bres merely smiled. “Give me the boy behind you, Hob.”

“That you may take him to your bitch-queen? I think not.” Robin would kill Leo himself rather than subject the Sidhe to the tender mercies of Titannia, even knowing sweet Ruby’s life would also end. She’d want it that way, rather than a mate who’d been a plaything for the Dark Queen. The bitch always broke her toys.

Leo shuddered, and if Bres thought for one moment it was from fear he was sorely mistaken. Leo had just linked fully with the earth, using it to enhance his power a thousand-fold. The power raced through Robin’s own, Leo’s connection a shock and a strange pleasure to one who was also of the earth. One by one the redcaps behind Bres began to disappear, sinking down silently ’til nothing was left, not even a twitching nose. Leo had to be using his Sidhe ability to cloud the redcaps’ minds, else they’d be shrieking up a storm. It explained the glazed look in the Sidhe’s eyes when Robin dared glance at him.

“You know how this will end, Pan.” Bres waved his hands languidly. “I’m sorry, Hob. My men have already secured the girl, and another has secured the boy’s brother. Give him to me, and once we have what we wish we will fade away.”

Robin watched without looking as another redcap disappeared into the earth. “My king desires otherwise.”

At the mention of Oberon, Bres flinched, but it was quickly hidden. “I have no quarrel with him or you, but I must obey my queen.”

Robin spread his hands, his nails curling into talons. “Then we are at an impasse.”

Another redcap disappeared.
 

“Ruby is safe. He’s bluffing. He doesn’t have her.”

Robin tried not to flinch as Leo’s words echoed in his head. The boy was
strong
on his land; very few could breach Robin’s mental barriers. He found himself more and more impressed with the Dunnes every time he played with them.
 

“Good. Now get out of my head.”

Leo’s silent chuckle echoed in his head, but Robin decided to let it pass. The boy deserved his brief moment of triumph, for things were about to get ugly.

Bres was going to attack, and he was far more dangerous than any redcap could ever hope to be.
 

“You fucking bitch.”

The female shivered, her legs curled up as high as they could go. They were over the burning barn now, the heat blistering to Sidhe flesh. “Please don’t kill me.”

Akane growled and flung Constance away from the burning barn, ignoring the female’s cries. Her mate
was
in the barn, unconscious, possibly dead. His scent wafted to her on the embers, fresh but subtly wrong. She let forth a keening cry, listening for an answer.

None came.

Akane entered the barn, her senses alert to any movement. She hadn’t seen the male who had accompanied the female when she’d flown back down. Where he was she didn’t know, nor did she care so long as he was far from her mate.

Near the back, toward what used to be the tack room, she found him. He was strapped to a table, his jaw slack, his eyes glittering in the firelight under half-closed lids. Black tendrils, ones she’d seen before, were embedded in his sides, his thighs, his arms, pumping something into him. Something vile. Akane could smell the wrongness. Whatever had poisoned her mate would leave its mark on him. She crooned to him as she yanked the tentacles away, desperately trying not to gag at the stench.

She’d seen Robin use these before to maim, to kill, but the foul, putrid odor from these tentacles smelled nothing like the poison Robin used. It was as if someone had taken Robin’s essence and fouled it beyond redemption. That foulness raced through her mate’s system, tainting it.

Dear gods, what if Shane changed somehow? Would the poison drag him down into the Black? Could it?

He moaned, then coughed, the smoke of the burning barn becoming thick and fierce. Akane lifted her mate from the table and raced from the barn, taking flight once they were free. She had the scents of both the female and the male. She would recognize them again. The male bore traces of Shane’s blood on his claws, something he would pay for.

But first things first. Her mate was in her arms, and he lived. Akane raced to the Dunne farm and the one place he’d want to be when he awoke.

Bres struck, just as Robin thought he would, at the weakest link: Leo. Fortunately the Sidhe had come prepared, using the earth itself to protect him while he unsheathed his sword. It swayed and buckled, forcing Bres back a step.

The leader of the redcaps smiled at Leo’s sword. “Cold iron doesn’t work on me.”
 

No. Robin had known that. Neither the Tuatha Dé nor the Fomorians shared the Sidhe’s allergy to iron. It took something else to kill one such as Bres. The only one who had come close had been Lugh, who’d tried to poison Bres by filling three hundred wooden cows with a bitter red liquid, then “milking” them and forcing Bres to drink the liquid. Bres, under a geas to obey the rules of hospitality, had drunk the liquid, but instead of killing him it had merely forced him into a slumber so deep they’d all thought him dead. When he awoke, a thousand years had passed and Oberon, his queen Titannia by his side, was on the throne. The Tuatha Dé and the Fomorians had been nothing more than a memory, even to those whose lives were measured in centuries.

What part Bres played in Titannia’s fall Robin didn’t know, but some day he intended to find out.

Robin carelessly blocked a redcap, skewering it on the point of a claw before turning his attention once more to Bres. The man was attempting to take down Leo by any means necessary, ignoring the Hob as if he wasn’t even there.

Well. Robin would have to fix that.

Robin smiled sweetly, and Bres tripped, almost falling on the point of Leo’s sword. He flicked his hair back from his shoulders and Bres’s belt broke, his pants slipping from his narrow hips. When Robin sighed, bored of the game already, Bres’s sword broke.

Unfortunately, the tip flew through the air and gashed Leo’s face, narrowly missing his eye. Startled, the Sidhe backed up a step and right onto the point of a redcap pike.
 

“Damn. Missed one.” Robin muttered to himself in disbelief. How could he have missed one of the little fuckers? He reached out his hand and twisted. The redcap fell in screaming agony, his kneecap shattered.