Black Moon Rising (DarkLife Saga) (22 page)

Irulan drug a hand across her face to wipe away a tear and moved toward Fazion.  As much as I would have loved to see the guy get some act-right, now wasn’t the time for us to be fighting amongst ourselves.

“This is what she wants, Ire,” I said and took her by the arm, “She’s the enemy, not Fazion.  As much as I hate to admit it, he was trying to keep you safe.  I can't fault him for that.”  The words left a bad taste in my mouth, but it was the truth.

“Are you listening to yourself, vampire,” the Banshee interjected.  “This man bartered for the life of his kin, by leading me to your family.  Your father’s building, your grandmother’s house, the home that you share with the Sidhe and young vampire that both of you call son.  I found all of you, because of him.”

I may be trying to evolve and become a more mature Valeria, but there is only so much I can take.  She had to die and a slow, withering death by iron poisoning, wouldn’t do.  I needed to be the one to take her life.  I had to be.

I flashed toward her so fast that her lips had barely parted by the time I reached her.  She tried to catch my fist as it zeroed in on her face, but she had no such luck.  I landed a punch to her chin with one hand and followed with another.  She dodged out of the path of one fist and directly into the path of the other.  The blow found its mark and knocked her to ground, minus a few teeth.

She hit the ground with a twist, swinging her legs through the air and tried to wrap them around my own.  Not a chance.  I pulled back my leg and planted a kick to her side before she could touch me.  The Banshee grunted and tried take a breath, but I kicked her again before she could do so.  I kicked her again and again, forcing her across the floor with each strike.

I kicked until my leg hurt and then I kicked some more.  Now that I finally had the upper-hand, I wasn’t going to relinquish it until she was dead.  Or that was the plan.  My last blow sent her skidding across the floor into the Vault door.  Damn that felt good.

I flexed my fingers and started after her but something knocked me back.  I frowned and pushed against the air in front of me.  There was a shield blocking my path.  “Why,” I hissed when I turned and saw both Irulan and Fazion with their hands extended
toward me.

“Because of that,” Irulan said, and pointed at the top of the doorway.  There, seeping through impossibly tiny cracks was what looked like molten metal.  You don't see that every day.  The Banshee began to laugh and push herself from the floor.

“I think we’re going to need your help,” Irulan whispered as we watched more of the stuff drip to the floor.  I joined them and added my energy, strengthening the barrier between us and the mystical goo that was pooled at our feet.

“What the fuck is that,” I asked Irulan then looked at the Banshee, “And why are you not surprised?”

Irulan, an expert on all things dealing with the arcane arts and magic, looked as lost as I was.  “I have no idea,” Irulan said.  Those four words sent chills down my spine.  If she didn’t know that meant she couldn’t tell me how to fight it.

Fazion pushed Irulan behind him and snarled at the Banshee.  “You will not have her.  We had a deal, Harbinger.  Honor our commitment or I will summon the Morrigan.”

The Banshee sighed and shook her head.  “How do you think the Triad will react to your bargaining for her life with those of an entire family? Your drive to protect your kin is admirable but are you willing to wager your life on a gamble?”

That was an interesting question, but one that I couldn’t let him answer.  Whatever he had to say, it didn’t matter.  The pool of molten goo was beginning to take a shape.  If I didn’t know better, I’d say it looked like a woman.  “This isn’t the time for twenty questions,” I said, “The goo is starting to look like she.”

Irulan and Fazion frowned and pushed more energy into the barrier.  I followed suit and turned it up a notch.  The barrier was strong enough, but most of the energy was coming from me, thanks to the recharge I’d gotten from Ire.  If I’m forced into a fight, it wasn’t going to last long; time to try out some of my Trumaine negotiating skills.

“What’s it going to take to get you off of my family's back?  The Fae kings have their panties in a bunch because they think we represent some kind of new power for the Fomori.  How about we promise never to set foot in the FaeLands again?  That will eliminate any threat my family poses to the other kingdoms.”

“You can't do that,” Irulan damn near screeched, “If you don't recharge you'll fade.”

“One life for the many, Ire, it's worth it.”

“Not to me and not to David,” she countered.  She willed away her glamour and for the first time that I can remember, let her crown manifest in the mortal realm.

“On my order as a princess of the realm, you will tell me who brought false accusations to the Morrigan and you will refrain from attacking my wife until I call a tribunal with the Triad.”  She spoke in old world Gaelic with the accent to match.

The Banshee lifted an eyebrow and to my utter amazement, sheathed her sword.  “I can't undo what the kings have done, but I can answer your other question.”  She looked to her right at the woman that was forming and nodded her head.  “This is your accuser, Tuatha.”

Irulan stepped to the edge of the barrier and titled her head as she stared at the fiery, golden-yellow shape and its delicate features.  She had spindly arms and legs, and pointed ears.  Its face was lean and angular, with an aquiline nose.  Whatever it was, it was definitely Sidhe.

“I don't know who or what you are, but whatever quarrel you have with me, you could have brought to me, and not involved the Morrigan.”

“I beg to differ,” the thing said as it opened its eyelids and looked at us with ash filled eyes.  “Your farce of a union with this thing is an affront to the pledge that you made to me.”

What?  What the fuck was this chicky-thing talking about?  I looked to Irulan and almost swallowed a cow when I saw the look on her face.  Irulan, MY Irulan that I was happily married to and raising a son with, Irulan, who I’ve know my entire life, was wearing a look that I had never seen before.  It was scary; odd mixture of disbelief, terror, amazement, and I’ll be damned if there wasn’t a twinge of love with a dash of longing thrown in there.

I had no words for what that look invoked in me. I wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her; rattle that look right off of her face.  I almost dropped my hands to do so, but Fazion grunted, no.

“That would not be a wise move, vampire,” he said and stepped to my side.  “I know that I didn’t make the best first impression and offering your family for Irulan’s life didn’t win me any brownie points, but everything I do is driven out of wanting what’s best for her.  I look at the two of you together and realize that is you.”

“Your point?”  I was trying to ignore him so that I could pay attention to the conversation that was going on between Irulan and the liquid tramp, but Fazion refused to be tuned out.

“You will hear things; Irulan may act out of character, but you hold tight to the bonds that you share and the knowledge that she loves you.  If you lose sight of that, you will lose her.  Do you hear me?”

If that’s what passes as a pep-talk in the FaeLands, I was in serious trouble.  Instead of shooting down his attempts at reassurance, I nodded and called Irulan’s name.  It fell on deaf ears.  Ire had a hand pressed to the shield and tears were pooled in her storm-ridden eyes.  She looked like her heart was breaking, and in turn, I felt my own crack.

I pulled my attention from her, to the woman she stared at and saw that she had lost the melted-metal look, and pulled a soft-lilac glamour.  The memory of a picture that I had seen only once jumped into my mind.  Everything clicked into place.

“Who is she, Ire,” I asked.  In the pit of my stomach, I knew.  There is only one person that could lay claim to my wife.  One person that could put that look on her face, but I needed to hear confirmation.

“She is but illusion, so it matters not,” Ire said through clenched teeth, her Americanized accent forgotten.  “What type of magic is this?”  She asked the Banshee.  “What daemon did you invoke to suit your needs?”

“I assure you I am not the product of magic, demonic or otherwise,” the female answered.  “I am the same Carrie that shared your bed for so many years, and the same that you pledged your undying devotion to.”

Irulan choked on a sob and another piece of my heart broke away.  Her hand began to shake, and I felt the barrier quiver.

“She is not the same woman that you loved, Irulan,” Fazion called out.  “Your bonded wife and sworn mate, is here beside me.”  He held out his hand and urged Irulan to take it.  “And she needs you to stand with her.”

Another tear slid down Ire’s face.  Then she did the unthinkable and dropped her hands.  The pull of the barrier readjusting was unimaginably strong.  It needed energy to maintain its structure and so it took from the strongest source available.  Me.  It like a freight train was trying to drag me away.

“Irulan listen to me.  The Carrie that you knew died in my father’s dungeon’s almost three centuries ago.  If you do not add you energy to ours, all your efforts to keep Valeria alive, will be for nothing,” Fazion yelled.

Instead of coming to join us, Irulan did the exact opposite and stepped through the damn barrier.  Once that happened, it didn’t take a genius to figure out what was coming next.  Fazion broke his concentration and ran to grab her.  The barrier’s pull got even greater.  I tried to compensate for the loss but couldn’t keep it together.  I’d been shot, beaten, broken, blasted and burned, and healed it all without taking blood.  After using so much energy to get the Banshee inside our trap, I was spent.

The instant the shield fell; the Banshee hit me with a wail the knocked me for a loop.  I felt like I was in a Tilt-A-Whirl as I flipped through the air.  I crashed into a stack of wooden crates, obliterating them as I came to a stop.  “Shit,” I groaned as my head bounced against the floor.  My shoulder was on fire, and my back felt like a pretzel but I wouldn’t have time to access the damage.  The Banshee was standing on top of me with her sword drawn and aimed at my throat.

“I hope you’ve prayed to whatever god you believe in,” she said as she drew the sword behind her head.

As a matter of fact, I was praying harder than I ever had before.  Whatever happened to my shoulder guaranteed that I wasn’t going to be able to fight my
way out of the current situation.  I was going to have to rely on my fledgling abilities to save my ass, and my batteries were damn near empty.

The gleaming metal cut through the air, on a direct path with my neck.  I stretched my fingers and prayed like hell that I had enough juice for one more blast.  The sword was so close that I could count my eyelashes in its reflection, before I felt my palm begin to tingle.  Score one for the big guy.  I let go of the energy, flooding the Vault with light.  The blast hit the Banshee’s wrist, knocking the sword free from her grip.  It clanged to the floor, and I smiled at her.

“I guess he heard me,” I coughed around a mouthful of blood.  That wasn’t good.

The Banshee sneered and kicked the sword skittering across the floor.  “I don't need a sword to finish you.”  She reached down, grabbed me by the throat, cutting off my airway.  I sputtered and tried to cough as she hauled me into the air.  “Care to find out what I did to the Tuatha-bitch?”

“Call her a bitch again and you'll find out what happens to people that piss me off,” I growled as best I could.

“Defiant to the end aren't you?  I think I’m beginning to respect you, Halfling.”

“I’m flattered,” I spat.  My shoulder was useless, and my magic was tapped.  My mouth was the only thing I had going for me so I might as well use it.

“As you should be,” the Harbinger answered.  Her chest expanded as she took a deep breath.  Then she began to puckered her lips as if she was about to whistle, but instead of a melody, out came a high-pitch, mini-wail.  It came out in a tight stream that hit me in the center of my forehead.  My head snapped
backward, knocking my teeth together.

My head began to throb.  I could hear the steady thump-thump, thump-thump of blood as my head pounded.  It felt like my brain was going to explode from the pressure.  I tried to moan, but nothing came out.  I flexed my jaw to make sure it was still working and tasted blood on my lip.

The Banshee began to talk around her wail.  “First the blood vessels in your nose burst and then those in your ears.  Your eyes will be the last to go.  By the time I’m done, all of your senses will be destroyed.”

I was getting beyond tired of having, ‘life-flashing-before-my-eyes’, moments, but damned if I wasn’t having one again.  I thought of David lying on that cot and what my death would mean for him.  The Harbinger was out to destroy everyone that had FaeVar’s royal blood running through their veins.  That meant my mother and brothers were next in line and daddy would die trying to
protect them.  Without Trumaine protection, as Tristan’s turn, he would go to Eric Meriwether.  I promised him that would never happen.

“Ire,” I croaked.  “Baby, please.”  I couldn’t see past the bitch in front of me, but I knew she was there.  I could feel her confusion and shock, hear her crying…and that woman (I use the term loosely), talking.  I didn’t have time for her to work through her blast-from-the-past issues.  I needed her now.  David needed her.  I called again but still there was no answer.  Just the Banshee’s continued wail as she tried to vaporize my brain.