Catch & Hold-Legend (Legend series) (17 page)

“Wait … I have something for him,” Danté said on a hard and very ferocious note.

“What?” I teased on a whisper, just trying to lighten the moment, trying to assuage my fears. “Are you going to throw a thunderbolt like they do in the movies?”

“As a matter of fact,” Danté said gravely, “yes.”

And much to my complete and utter amazement, a wild look came over Danté, and even the sneer he wore from ear to ear did not mar his handsome face as he proceeded to do just that. From both of his outstretched hands a ball of fire erupted and made a straight path of lightning that went for and hit Aaron with fully charged electricity.

I still hadn’t gotten over my surprise at this ability Danté obviously owned when my mouth dropped open even further—the warlock absorbed the electricity and made two shaking fists at us. He appeared totally unharmed and in fact seemed more angry than afraid. Now
, that
was disturbing.

I really was bereft of speech as Danté snorted irritably and shifted, leaving me standing there not sure what to do, thinking we were not getting off to a good start.

I am impulsive, and although I love plans, I usually end up making them from moment to moment. Here was a situation that needed some thought, but there was no time. We had a warlock that could absorb thunderbolts! Damn, that was trouble, and what the hell was my Danté doing now?

And then I realized. It wasn’t Aaron that was superman all at once. It wasn’t because he was a powerful warlock. It was because he was holding an ancient Seelie Relic in one of his closed hands, and apparently my quick-thinking prince had realized this at once. What to do? Okay, what to do?

And then Rolo said, “Sister … it has been a long time.”

And the Seelie Relic whispered, “Brother.”

All at once, things didn’t seem so dire. Sister—brother? That was good, right?

Danté didn’t know about the Hallows being related, and he had already moved menacingly as his shift had brought him face to face with the warlock.

I noticed that while Dunbar appeared startled, he still was not frightened. In fact, he started to laugh.

Oh—Danté would not like that. I hurriedly sent him a mental message about the Hallows and was relieved to see him smile.

However, he still seemed to want to engage the warlock in hand-to-hand, and we didn’t have time for that. “Danté, wait!” I shouted as I shifted and pushed Danté out of the way just as the warlock brought up the Relic and whispered a chant in ancient Gaelic.

I heard Rolo call out, “
Sister … no
!”

And then the spell that the warlock used with the aid of the Hallow hit me like a charging and enraged bull determined to bring down anything in its path, and it did. I was flung into the air, but as I went down I reached out and grabbed hold of Dunbar’s clothing and, hot damn, if I didn’t bring him down with me!

Pain shot through my body, and it wasn’t the result of the fall. Dunbar had jabbed me with something …

And suddenly the world began to spin, and my body was assaulted with fire. It burned through my veins, and I heard Danté scream out my name. Even in the haze I was lapsing into, I could see Danté pummel Dunbar as he lay on his back beside me. I was accosted with more pain than I had ever experienced in my life. I’d had some headaches in my time, but nothing like the stabbing pain that shot through my head and into my eyes. Pressure squeezed at my temples, something had punched me in the gut, and I didn’t want to puke in front of Danté … but there was a moment when I thought I was going to do just that.

All this while, I held my head because I thought it was about to split in two, while Danté—Danté beat the shit out of Dunbar. I saw it, and for a moment I managed a smile, and then …

And then everything went black.

* * *

The orb was beginning to cloud over. Lately it had been cutting itself off from the images I sought. Sometimes I thought I heard it say, “Gaiscioch may have no more …”

Orbs are odd and uncontrollable, loyal usually to only their maker and the person they are gifted to. This orb was made by the Dark King and given to Morrigu. It was beginning to shut me out more and more as though it knew I didn’t have permission, but even so, I caught the last of the images: the warlock stabbing the Daoine, and Danté jumping at him, but not before the warlock collected her blood on the knife.
 
And then, just as I had spelled it in advance to do, the knife with her blood came back to me. I had it—
I had the Daoine’s blood!

Her blood was the key to everything, and soon I would test it. Hurriedly, I stored it away and shifted outside Morrigu’s bedroom door.

I needed to know where Pestale was before I worked the Mirror with the Daoine’s blood. I didn’t want him walking in on me.

I knew where he usually was these days. It was as though he couldn’t get enough. His relationship with Morrigu was a wonder to me. He seemed to care for her, but how could he when he was a Dark Fae … without emotion of any kind?

Yet—I had seen him treat her with ‘understanding’ if not actual tenderness, and he did not need to do so.

I had no time for that as I purposely slammed the door open and walked in to find … exactly what I expected: Pestale there, taking his pleasure with Morrigu.
Perfect.

They both heard me and looked around even as he still pounded into her and she groaned with pleasure and fell back down against the mattress.

I pretended to be jealous and shouted, “Ah, Morrigu—you say you love me, and yet here you are … hurting me to the quick!”

“No … no, do not say so, Gaiscioch. Come then … join us,” she said, lifting her beautiful, hateful head and directing her gaze, her mad gaze at me.

“Share you with
him …? Never!
”
I answered, making a good show of it before I turned and slammed the door shut after me.

There, now I could be private with the Daoine’s blood and my portal …

* * *

The first thing I heard was Danté’s beautiful voice in that sexy accent of his, calling me. He sounded so far away as I reached out my hand for him and felt him take my fingers in his and kiss them.

He had been running his hands over my body, filling me with warmth and healing power. I heard him whisper something about a knife wound … a knife wound? Ah, I had been stabbed with a knife, and evidently it had been laced with Danu poison.

Danté’s dear face was out of focus, but I reached for it all the same and managed to touch his cheek.

“Hush now, little love … he used Danu dust to make the poison. It has made you momentarily ill and caused you pain … harmful, but it is not fatal. The question is why? He used the warlock to draw us here, I think for this, but why?” He looked away from me and added, “And I have not found the knife … somehow Gais has retrieved the knife.”

“Dunbar knifed me!” I said because it was so shocking. “Danté, the knife must have been covered with my blood … where is it?” I looked at the warlock’s unconscious, bloodied, and battered body.

“It is gone, my Z … Gais has it,” Danté answered, and a puzzled expression came over his face.

“Why?”

“He must need Daoine blood … your Royal Daoine blood.”

“This can’t be good.” I sighed, still feeling like puking my guts out but holding back.

“The Dark King was a Daoine Royal before he evolved—all his relics would respond to Daoine blood. Gais has found a way to release himself to this Realm by using your blood.”

“Oh, Danté … the prophecy has begun. We didn’t know it would start with my blood.” I shook my head. “Now what?”

“We consign Dunbar to a place of keeping where the queen can have the Trackers question him.”

“Hmmm,” I said. “Yes, question him.” I still felt woozy as I looked at Aaron Dunbar and snorted. “He looks dead—how can they question him?”

Dante grinned and with a soft chuckle said, “Because he is not dead.” And then he pulled me into his arms, and his hand continued to heal me.

There we sat on the damp grass beneath the Grampian Mountains, until I remembered and asked, “Well then … what now, shouldn’t we send him off before he comes to?”

“He will be unconscious until the queen revives him. He isn’t dead, as I said, but nearly.”

We both looked at Aaron Dunbar, who was a bloody mess.

“Send him now … quickly, send him to the queen,” I whispered, because even though Dunbar was a warlock, he was also human. I didn’t want Danté punished for killing him, and I was worried that Dunbar might just die in the next few moments.

“Yes,
enfant
.
” He smiled and kissed my forehead. “Have I ever told you that you are a bossy little thing?”

“And the Sister Hallow? Do you have it safe?” It was amazing, but my wound was gone, my nausea was gone, and I was feeling fit and ready to go.

“Yes … she has been quietly conversing with Rolo.”

“Send that to the queen as well, and hurry, Danté,” I told him, suddenly worried. I knew that we had to get it safely away before Gaiscioch managed to get his hands on it.

He said nothing for a moment as he concentrated, and then he whispered, “Done. Are you finished giving orders yet?”

“Hmmm, let me think …”

He kissed me then, long and sweet, and if it weren’t that we were stretched out on the damp grass beside Dunbar, who was very nearly a corpse, I think I would have blinked off Danté’s clothes …

“Dunbar,” I mentioned to him softly.

He sighed. “Right.” He turned and glanced at the warlock before his eyelids just slightly closed, and the warlock was gone as well.

“You sent him to the queen, right? Not to some hellish dimension …
right
?”

“Right.” He laughed, and then he had me in his arms and was shifting us through space.

I closed my eyes this time. I don’t know why. I thought I was getting away from that habit. I am a Daoine, and I shouldn’t close my eyes while I shift—that’s childish.

When I opened them again, we were in my bedroom and we were both naked. He was kissing my face, then nibbling at my ears, down my neck, and whispering words that made me shiver and groan.

“I can’t lose you,” he said almost desperately. “I can’t, Z … you have to stay safe for me. You can’t throw yourself into things helter skelter.”

“I don’t remember doing that.” I frowned.

“That’s because you don’t think—you just dive in head first and usually end up in trouble. Can’t you try and wait for me. Can’t you think first to call on me?”

“Always … I always want to wait for you when you aren’t there.”

“Then do it … try, for my sake—try and think of me as your partner. Don’t rush in without me.”

“Okay.”

“Promise?”

“I promise not to break my promises to you, so I will promise only this … that I will always try and wait for you … call on you instead of going in alone—when I can.” I sighed, because even that I knew would be a trial. I am spontaneous and usually don’t think before I act—bad, I know.

I meant to keep my promise to him, I did, but I was already worried because something deep in my gut told me I wasn’t going to be able to keep it …

* * *

“Pestale …?” Morrigu touched my face, and I allowed her a smile. I had genuine ‘feeling’ for Morrigu, but make no mistake, if I had to shut her away to obtain my goals, I would—perhaps with some regret, but I would. Do not mistake this wayward ‘feeling’ I had for Morrigu as a weakness; I am what I am, and I am proud of what I am.

My father—the so-called all-powerful Dark King—had not been able to make me totally in his image. I looked like he did before he ‘evolved’, as he called it. But I didn’t have his flaws …

I could put my feelings aside. If my son had tried to force my mate—was about to rape my mate—I would have killed him, not just turned my back. Even so, I loathed him, for somehow he’d made me … love him before all that occurred. No—
love
perhaps was too strong a word, perhaps …
care for
him would better fit.

As it turned out, I was not what you would call ‘pure’ evil like my next in line brother, Graely. He cared for nothing and no one—not even me. He feared me, but he did not love me. I am very different from them.

I have variegated shades within my character, but my opinion of what is ‘good’ and what is ‘evil’ is probably very different than the average Seelie Fae’s opinion of the same. I dwelled too often on these things … but Morrigu was calling my name again.

“Yes, lovely one?”

“When I am with you, Pestale, I almost feel … I do feel better. My thoughts come clearly. Is that some magic you do?”

I touched her exquisite cheek. She was a hundred thousand years old and still looked twenty-five. She was supremely beautiful. It was a wonder that I had never grown tired of her beauty. “There is no cure, darling, you know that, but I do what I can for you, and perhaps it helps. You do always seem ‘better’ when you are with me.”

She snuggled into me and closed her eyes. It was no wonder she had gone mad. She was not a Royal and did not have what she needed to stave off the insanity, and my so-called father never thought to let her drink from the Cauldron and preserve her sanity.