Burned (39 page)

I snarl like an enraged animal. Yes, yes, and
yes
. It abso-fucking-lutely did. Alina was cold in a grave and I was on fire. I was
glad
I’d come to Dublin, glad I’d gotten lost and stumbled into his bookstore, because something in me that had slumbered all my life was waking up. How can you be
glad
you came to the city that killed your sister? How can you feel exhilarated to be alive when she’s dead? How could I let anything ever make me feel good again?

“You couldn’t deal with it, and you couldn’t despise yourself any more than you already did, so you turned it on me. You want to hate me for taking that memory and stashing it away for a while, go ahead.”

I snap, “I don’t want to hate you for it. I want to find a way to forgive you for it. And
that’s
what scares me. You took my memory, my choice to deal with or refuse to deal with what happened. You took a slice of my reality.”

“I’ll say this one more fucking time: I couldn’t have taken it if you hadn’t been so willing to throw it away. The brain is a complex thing. It inscribes, it etches, it’s bloody well sticky. The memory was always there, that’s how you found it. I merely kicked it beneath a rock. You put the entire force of your will behind my kicking it. You
helped
me hide it. I relieved you of what you considered a despicable stain in your mind. Best fucking night of my existence.” He laughs and shakes his head. “And you couldn’t get rid of it fast enough. I didn’t want to hide the memory from you. I wanted to cram it down your goddamn throat. I wanted to force you to face it, to want it, to want me, to be willing to fight for what was possible between us with the same single-minded devotion as you fucked. Well, Ms. Lane, you’ve got your precious memory back. Will you throw me away now?”

I’m horrified to realize that’s the choice. Keep him or don’t. Stay or go. How do you trust a man who took one of your memories from you? How do you convince yourself he won’t do it again? And if I did convince myself of it, wouldn’t I pretty much
be
that lamb in a city of wolves he’d accused me of being that night? Believing what I wanted to believe, over the far more likely truth: recidivism is human nature.

We are what we are. Actions speak.

He intuits my thoughts without even being able to see my face. “Yes. Actions speak. Analyze mine. Not long after I used Voice on you to tuck away your memory of that night, I began teaching you Voice, knowing you would be immune to me ever using it on you again. I leveled the playing field. In a court of justice, one might consider that atonement for a—” He breaks off and laughs softly. “—crime of passion. And that, my dear complicated fucking Ms. Lane, is the closest thing to an apology you will ever get from a man who apologizes to no one. Take it or leave it.”

He’s up, past me, and out the door before I can even reply.

      31      

“Like an army falling one by one by one”

MAC

Fact: you can never know another person completely.

Fact: you are born alone and die alone.

Fact: there is no such thing as safety. Only vigilance, determination to survive, and a willingness to be ruthless about it.

Fact: love is not perfect.

Fact: neither am I.

Those five facts are the bile with which I digest the events of my day.

I marvel, as I sprawl on the chesterfield in front of my favorite gas fireplace aft of the bookstore, at the way my thought processes have refined. There used to be so many pit stops and detours between my mental points of departure and their eventual destinations, but now it goes kind of like this: Do I love him? Yes. Is he perfect? No. Am I? No. Will I leave him? No. Okay, that’s resolved. Time for a nap.

I wake when the doorbell tinkles, roll over, rub my eyes, and shove my hair out of my face. I slept hard. It occurs to me that I didn’t rehang the bell after Ryodan ripped it off the frame. Barrons must have done it.

First thing I do when I open my eyes is look down at my hand. Yup. Still invisible. Awesome! I’m in no hurry to give this up. Besides, I feel deep couch marks all over my right side, from my arm up to my cheek. I’ve been tufted. I hate walking around with sheet creases and now I have little sphincter-like explosions all over the side of my face.

I become aware of a slow burn in the pit of my stomach and leap up to an instant crouch, biting back a growl.

I smell Unseelie Prince.

I duck low to remain concealed behind the silhouette of the couch and begin inching quietly back toward the private-residence half of the bookstore, then remember they can’t see me. Duh.

I straighten up and peer through the low light, wondering what the hell my rapists are doing in my home.

I blink. They’re standing in the entry with Fade, Dageus and Drustan MacKeltar, and R’jan, who is attended by the new Seelie advisor-vote Ryodan recently approved.

The doorbell chimes two more times in quick succession as Barrons and Jada step in, dusting rain from their shoulders.

What the hell?

“Why did you ask me to come?” Jada says to Barrons. “And what are they doing here?” She narrows her eyes at the princes who hiss and posture aggressively.

“I didn’t.”

“I received your message.”

“I didn’t send one.”

Jada moves to leave. Barrons places a hand on her arm and she turns slowly back and looks up.

He says, “I would prefer you stay.”

I narrow my eyes. What is Barrons up to?

She stares at him for a moment then says, “I will honor your request. Once. In the future you will honor one for me.”

“A simple request of attendance. Nothing more.”

She inclines her head.

Right, she’s nice to Barrons but not me.

I like Jada. She’s strong. Smart. Lethal. Too bad she used to be Dani. Too bad she has no heart. I want Dani back. But I wouldn’t mind keeping Jada, too, once she gets with the program that reads: Mac is good, don’t hunt her. Speaking of why she’s hunting me—where the heck has the
Sinsar Dubh
gone? Three princes are standing here and I’m not hearing a single suggestion that I go postal and kill everyone in sight. The Book has been so quiet it’s starting to make me nervous.

Then the Unseelie Princes are asking why Barrons sent a message threatening to remove them from the council if the princes didn’t meet him here, and R’jan starts snarling about the threat he received from the Highlander to withdraw their protection if he didn’t come, and I smell Ryodan’s hand in things before I even catch a glimpse of him approaching through the rain beyond the beveled glass diamond panes of the front door.

When the urbane owner of Chester’s stalks in, the accusations escalate, all now directed toward him and his sleight of hand.

“Had I summoned, you wouldn’t have come,” Ryodan says to Rath, then barks, “Upstairs, at the table. All of you.”

Yeah, right. He just tried to order nine of the most uncooperative beings I know to cooperate en masse. It’s not going to happen.

Everyone starts growling and arguing again. Ryodan vanishes. Then R’jan’s new advisor is gone.

Long moments spin out while R’jan looks around wildly.

After nearly thirty seconds Ryodan reappears and tosses the body of R’jan’s new advisor at his feet. Dead. I almost laugh aloud at the look of consternation on R’jan’s face.

The Seelie Prince snarls, “You will cease doing that! You killed our fucking advisor! That is twice now you’ve insulted us with—”

“Little point devising new tactics when the old ones just keep working. Pull your head out of your ass and see it coming. The next one to die is you, then Rath. Get the fuck upstairs.”

Jada moves for the door.

Barrons says, “You will remain. Honor your pledge.”

A muscle works in her jaw but she slowly turns back around. “You have five minutes of my time.”

“Five is all I need,” Ryodan says.

Jada gives him a cool smile. “That’s what I’ve heard.”

I smirk.

Ryodan opens his mouth to reply then astounds me by closing it. I was ready for one of his frankly sexual remarks. I was rather looking forward to it. She deserved it for that one. From the look on Jada’s face, she was anticipating one, too.

He says nothing. Interesting. Is it because she’s Dani? Or because she’s not Dani at all?

“Move your asses, all of you,” Fade orders.

When they ascend, growling and snarling the whole way, I hurry up the stairs behind them, to camouflage any telltale
squeaks the planks might make as they shift beneath my weight if I wait until they all reach the top.

Barrons, Fade, Ryodan, and the two Highlanders cram into seats along one side of the square and it’s almost comical to see the five enormous men packed shoulder to shoulder, leaving the Unseelie Princes and R’jan to split the other two. I wonder where Sean is; if he was similarly summoned and chose not to appear or if Ryodan omitted him deliberately.

Jada stands, legs spread, arms folded. Tonight she has a knife strapped to each thigh, in addition to an assortment of bulges at her ankles, pockets, and waistband. I carry concealed myself, so have no trouble picking out extra magazines and grenades. There’s blood on her shirt. I wonder who or what she killed tonight, and how many. I miss fighting back-to-back with her.

“Why have you called us here?” R’jan demands. “And where is the O’Bannion?”

I take a position opposite Jada, with the table between us, unconsciously mimicking her posture, studying her curiously. Still dressed in black, still coolly beautiful, something nags about her appearance. My gaze drifts from her head to her feet then back. Her cuff glints silver. Where have I seen it before?

“O’Bannion is irrelevant to the matter we’re discussing tonight.”

The Seelie Prince scowls, no doubt wondering if there have been meetings held without him present, without his knowledge. “And the human that runs the abbey?”

“I run the abbey,” Jada says.

“There is one thing upon which we can agree,” Ryodan says, “and that is we would all prefer the Crimson Hag dead.”

“That is why you brought us here? To discuss the Hag?” Rath says. “She is occupied. We do not care about her.”

“You will aid in destroying our mutual enemies or you are the enemy,” Ryodan says.

Jada says, “No one knows the Hag’s location.”

“The Unseelie Princess has located her,” Ryodan says.

“You know this how?” Jada says.

“You know where Christian is?” Dageus explodes. “Why the bloody hell are we sitting here?”

Ryodan says to Jada, “The Unseelie Princess is now in my employ. Never think to control my city. You have the
sidhe-
seers. That is all you have.”

“The princess is not pure blood,” Kiall says coldly. “You will never admit her to our table.”

I wonder what he means by that. Even I sensed the difference. But what?

“You will share a table with anyone I choose, mongrel or otherwise,” Ryodan says.

“I said, where the bloody hell is Christian?” Dageus says again.

“I would see Christian freed. You may present your proposition.” Jada’s voice is void of inflection. If she’s irritated that Ryodan usurped her plan, she betrays none of it. The fire I saw in his office is now ice.

“His location is difficult to reach,” Ryodan says. “The three princes will sift three of us in. Using one of them as bait and Mac to divert—”

WTF? I bristle.

“You think we will be your fucking bait?” Kiall snarls.

“—we will put the Hag down for good and free the Keltar,” Ryodan says.

“In addition to me, who are the other two sifting in?” Jada says.

“Aye, exactly who the bloody hell do you think is going?” Dageus growls.

“We will cooperate with this plan why?” Kiall says.

“With your new brother back and the Hag dead …” Ryodan lets it hang. He doesn’t need to say more. They would be enormously powerful.

“He is not their brother,” Drustan says softly. “And never will be.”

Kiall says, “In every sense that matters, Highlander.”

“Why should the Seelie give a fuck?” R’jan growls.

“A prince with no royal allies, you are the Hag’s most logical next target. If that is not enough to persuade you, Mac is in the room with us and will kill any of you that don’t cooperate with my plan. You won’t see it coming because she’s invisible. Say hello, Mac.”

Jada’s head whips from side to side, scanning the room.

I can’t freaking believe Barrons told Ryodan I’m invisible! And I can’t freaking believe Ryodan thinks he’s going to use me as his private weapon! My jaw clenches. That man makes me almost as crazy as Barrons does. No wonder. They’re related.

“You
do
wish to rescue Christian, don’t you, Ms. Lane?” It’s a soft warning from Barrons.

He doesn’t know I’m here. He’s assuming. And as the man once told me himself: assume makes an ass out of u and me. I clench my jaw harder. Let them talk to air. Let others think them mad.

Jada continues searching the room intently. I can practically see her ears perked up like a hunting dog. If I’m stupid enough to say something, she’ll be on me in an instant.