Cruel Enchantment (16 page)

He dropped the mock key on the table—an inaccurate representation of the final key—and held up one of the photographs of the box. He pointed to a series of markings on the bottom front. “Right here. Those are the schematics for the key. I’m
fluent
in Old Maejian”—he gave a withering glance—“obviously better at the language than your so-called translator. Does the man drink much?”

Her expression went stormy. “Calum does good work for the HFF, Aeric.”

He grunted. “But does the man drink? ’Cause looks to me, he does.
A lot
.”

She glared at him and he had his answer.

“Anyway, those marks tell me the shape, size, and density of the key. The mock-up doesn’t tell me any of that. It’s a fucking complicated piece of work. I can’t just make a mold from the mock-up, pour hot iron into it, wait for it to harden, and knock it out. I’m going to have to carve this sucker by hand.”

“You can carve . . . iron?”

“I’m the only fae who can.”

“Good thing I came to you, then.”

“Honey, you never
came
to me. I dragged you kicking and screaming to me.”

“No doubt,” she muttered.

“Also, I’m going to have to add in extra-special fucking faery magick, according to the translation you brought me. All that’s going to take time.”

“That’s something we don’t have.” She chewed her lower lip. “How much time?”

He shrugged a shoulder. “Won’t know until I start. At least a week if I’m working on it nonstop. I’ll be at the mercy of my magick. Once it’s gone for the day, once I’m too tired, it’s gone. Gotta wait until I recharge. The Energizer Bunny, I’m not.”

“This is not good.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t like the idea of being stuck with you for another week, either.”

She bolted from the couch, biting her thumbnail. “No, I mean, this is
really
not good.”

“Why? The box isn’t going anywhere.”

“The longer we wait, the greater the chance the Phaendir will find out about the discovery of an ancient fae artifact at Atlit Yam. If that happens, they’ll seriously muck things up.” She whirled to face him. “And we’ve wasted two weeks already.”

“Calm down. Even if they find out, the piece will be as unobtainable to them as it is to us.”

“Yeah, they’d need you.”

“No Phaendir would ever set foot in Piefferburg now, not after the way the goblins dealt with the last bunch that came in.”

She shook her head as if she pitied him. It ratcheted his blood pressure. “Don’t be naïve. If the Phaendir want you, they’ll get you.”

“Maybe,” he barked at her, “but they still wouldn’t get the fucking key, now would they?”

She stared at him for a moment. “Anyone ever tell you your accent gets more pronounced when you’re pissed?” Without waiting for a response, she started to pace. “They might not need a key. Their magick is powerful when they use it in a concerted effort—like the hive mind magick they use to keep the warding up around Piefferburg. There’s no telling what they might be able to do with that box.” She came to a halt, her brow furrowing. “Plus, David will be in danger. They’ll send the brothers over there to take him out.”

Why did he get so annoyed every time she talked about this guy? Especially when she talked about him like she cared. “Yeah, well, David better be able to watch his back,” he growled.

“He can, but I still worry about him. Listen, I need to contact the Phaendir. They’re going to be wondering what happened to me.” She pulled the cell out of her pocket and looked down at it, saying nothing. Dread sat in the line of her chin and in her eyes.

“How are you going to explain where you’ve been for the last two weeks?”

She blew noisily, moving a tendril of hair out of her face. “I’ve been thinking about that. I suppose I could go over to the Rose, meet up with the
Faemous
crew, and concoct some story about where I’ve been. Honestly, though, I don’t want to set foot in the Seelie Court. I don’t want to go anywhere near the Summer Queen if I can help it, even in heavy glamour.”

“You were ready to come to me glamoured. I guess that means you fear the Summer Queen more than me.”

She looked up at him. “Yeah, I do. She scares me witless, even now.”

“Okay, so what excuse are you going to feed the Phaendir for not showing?”

“I’m going to tell them the truth.”

“A modified version of the truth, anyway.” She pushed buttons. “Okay. Here goes, um . . . everything.”

Aeric watched as her former glamour overcame her features. In a moment, she was Emily Millhouse, Worshipful Observer and personal assistant to the Archdirector of the Phaendir. She met his eyes once, then turned away. “Brother Maddoc?” Even her voice had changed.

Pause.

“No, no, I’m okay.” Her voice shook a little as if she were frightened but putting up a brave front. “No, really. I’m fine. I’m mean, no worse for the wear, anyway.” Shaky laugh. “I’ve had an exciting couple of weeks.”

The voice on the other end was barely audible, but Aeric heard it become more strident.

“What happened to me? Let me tell you. . . .”

She mostly did tell him the truth. In her version of the story she’d been kidnapped on the road to the city by a rogue Unseelie and taken to the Black Tower. There she’d been saved from the wretch’s evil clutches by the new Shadow Queen. Sensing her misfortune to be actually a turn in her favor, she’d lingered, exploiting her chance to get into the Shadow Queen’s graces. Her plan was working, Emmaline-as-Emily said, because she was on to some hot information about the
bosca fadbh
. She needed more time to mine it.

Aeric’s jaw locked as he watched her, a muscle ticking in his neck. She was good. She was
really
good. Using just the right voice inflections, she projected an image of a sheltered, gentle woman who was in over her head, yet committed—no,
passionate
—about her cause and who would risk all to accomplish her goal. Goibhniu, she almost had him convinced by the end of the phone call.

She clicked the off button and turned toward him. “That went as well as I think it could have. Brother Maddoc didn’t sound suspicious, but with him . . . well, you wouldn’t know he was suspicious until blood was oozing out your ears.” She grinned. “I have no oozing blood, so I guess everything’s okay.”

“You did that very well.”

“Thank you.”

“It wasn’t a compliment.”

She sighed. “This is what I do. I’m
good
at it, Aeric.”

“Good at lying, yeah. I see you do this and it makes me doubt everything all over again.”

She shrugged. “Okay. I don’t know what to say to that. I’m just doing my job with the best of intentions.”

He leaned forward. “Take that glamour off. I want to see you.”

She complied without argument.
Amazing
. He studied her—from her small, bare feet to the top of her dark head and everywhere in between.

She shifted from foot to foot and glanced around the room while she did it. “Why don’t you just take a picture?”

Only if you were naked, princess
. “You look tired. It’s late and I’m tired, too. You take the bed and I’ll crash on the couch.”

“No—”

“Take the fucking bed, Emmaline. I’m a four-hundred-year-old male fae. Old habits die hard. The woman always gets the most comfortable place to sleep.”

“Hmm . . . wish you would have been clinging to that polite notion before you made me sleep on a concrete floor for two weeks.”

He rubbed his chin. “Yeah, well, that was different. Let’s start over.” The words pulled painfully from him because he still wasn’t sure about giving her this benefit-of-the-doubt thing. He also didn’t vocalize the words
for now
, though they were there.

They were definitely there.

SOMEONE
kicked the door in at around three in the morning.

Aeric bolted from the couch with a battle roar and a readiness that he hadn’t known he still possessed. A dark figure pushed right past him and went to the bed. Emmaline screamed and the sound was abruptly cut off.

He jumped over the couch and raced to the bed, but before he got there, the intruder
oof
ed and flew backward, dragging the nightstand with him. The lamp crashed to the floor. Emmaline leapt from the bed and kicked high and hard into the side of the man’s face, but the huge man barely seemed to feel it and he was on her again. Emmaline yelped and crashed to the mattress under the other man’s body.

Aeric yanked the fae male off her, spun him around, and caught him hard in the jaw with his fist.

The big male bellowed and tripped backward.
Man
, his hand hurt. Whoever he was, he had a hard face. Aeric popped him again, while the man was teetering from the first. The intruder grunted, staggered backward, and sprawled on his ass.

Aeric picked the lamp up and turned it on. It was a miracle it still worked. The intruder stared up at him with blood streaming from his nose and over his lips. “Kieran, what the fuck!”

Kieran pushed to his feet and pointed at Emmaline, who was on her feet next to the bed and in a fighting position. “Do you know who she is?”

“I know who she used to be,” spat Aeric. His blood was up, way up. “The former assassin of the Summer Queen. Our enemy.”

Kieran roared and lunged for her. Aeric bodychecked him up against the wall, making the whole apartment shake. They struggled, but Aeric held him firm, trying not to hurt him and trying to keep Emmaline from getting hurt, too.

My, how times had changed.

“She killed my brother.” Kieran’s voice was a low, dangerous growl. His brows were knit together and his lids half lowered. Murder sat in the lines of his body. “She shot him in the chest with one of her poisonous crossbow bolts.”

Fuck
. How had Kieran found out about her presence here?

Aeric fisted Kieran’s shirt at his shoulders and rocked him back against the wall to reinforce the fact that he had him pinned there. “Your brother was an asshole, a murdering waste of fae flesh. How many times have you said that yourself? And how many innocent Seelie did Diarmad kill in the war? How many noncombatant troop? Record numbers. How many did Diarmad kill and
enjoy
it, Kieran? She was just doing her job for her side in the fight, man. Give it up. It was a long time ago and it was during a time of war.”

Kieran’s gaze fixed on him. “How can you defend her? She murdered Aileen.”

“Sometimes things aren’t what they seem,” Emmaline answered.

Kieran pointed at her. “
You
don’t speak. The only thing
you
need to do is die.”

“Whoa, Kieran. Take it down a notch,” Aeric growled. “She’s right about things not being what they seem.”

“Some things might not be, but
this
is.” Kieran pushed against him with a roar, trying to get past him to Emmaline. Aeric dug his heels in and pressed his elbow to Kieran’s throat. Aeric was one of the physically strongest males in the Black Tower, but Kieran was a big guy, too—maybe one of the only ones who could give Aeric a good fight. He really didn’t want to find out for sure.

“Emmaline is working for the HFF,
for us
. We need to leave her alone.” Aeric reached down one-handed to the side of the bed and came up with a charmed iron short sword. He set the blade to Kieran’s throat. “Let it go for the greater good. If I can let it go, you can, too.” He pushed the issue with the sharp edge of the blade a little. “Right?”

Kieran pressed against him one last time, then went still, glaring at Emmaline as though he hoped his gaze could shoot a lightning bolt across the room at her.

Emmaline said nothing and made no sudden moves. Her hand hovered at her throat as if to protect it. That was probably a subconscious, involuntary reaction to being attacked. Guilt pricked in Aeric. He’d probably created that one.

Aeric held out a hand. “Are we all good here?”

“I’m not the only one who is going to want to see her suffer.” Kieran’s gaze never moved from her.

“I’m aware,” Aeric answered. “Believe me. I wanted the same thing at first.” He looked over at Emmaline. “But now they’re going to have to come through me to get to her. No one touches her. No one.”

No one but him, it seemed, and in a decidedly nonviolent way.

Kieran finally tore his gaze from her to look at him. “You’re asking for trouble.”

“Yeah, so what’s new?”

“You’re asking for half the Unseelie Court to come down on your head.”

Aeric could ask him to keep her presence quiet, but Kieran wouldn’t agree. Kieran’s stake in the information was too personal. “Bring ’em on. They get to her over my dead body.”

“You’re a crazy fuck. That’s exactly what might happen.”

He threw up his hands. “Again, tell me something I don’t know.”