Cruel Enchantment (19 page)

She stood on the balls of her feet, looking fierce. “I can take him.”

“No.” He grabbed her upper arm and yanked her back. “You can’t take this guy, Emmaline. Neither can I. His magick is too powerful.”

She glanced at him and her eyes widened, seeing the truth of his statement on his face. Together they whirled and ran down the corridor. Behind them Kolbjorn ramped up a nice, big bolt of lightning to send at them.

Fucking lightning
. They couldn’t fight that.

They turned the corner just as Kolbjorn let fly. The magick hit the corner they’d only just veered around, sending electrified chunks of sleek black marble and dust everywhere. The boom echoed through the Black Tower and made the floor beneath them shake. Aislinn wasn’t going to be too happy about the damage to her tower. But if Aeric had anything to say, there would be more damage. This bastard wasn’t getting Emmaline—not over Aeric’s dead body.

“I will get you, assassin, and I will make you pay!” Kolbjorn roared behind them.

“Only if you catch us first,” Emmaline threw back over her shoulder just before a bolt of lightning nearly caught her heels. She yelped and shut up.

“You can’t run from me!”

Except they could. Kolbjorn was at a disadvantage because he was so big. They moved faster than he did. Kolbjorn also had to stop to draw enough power for his lightning bolts. That gave him and Emmaline an edge.

They raced through a common area, scattering surprised fae as they went. Aeric yanked her through a door and down a winding stone staircase, one of four that existed in the tower. They pounded down the stairs as fast as they could without tripping and rolling down them. That would be accomplishing Kolbjorn’s goal for him.

Somewhere above them, over the sound of their labored breathing and the pounding of their shoes, came Kolbjorn’s roar of displeasure.

“We need a door to the outside,” said Emmaline.
“Now.”

“Two more flights and we’ll have one.” He wished for one of those nifty secret passageways that Melia knew about. Finally they were at the foot of the stairs. He pushed the heavy wooden door open. It let them into an alley at the foot of the tower.

They weren’t far from Goblin Town. Overcrowded and confusing, it would be a great place to lose Kolbjorn. “This way.” He yanked her along after him.

The narrow old streets of the
ceantar dubh
were spotted here and there with Unseelie fae and those troop who loved the Unseelie. They all got out of the way as he and Emmaline barreled past. This part of town mirrored the area at the base of the Rose Tower, though it was a little less hoity-toity. Though there were few expensive jewelry and dress shops, there was still a lot of commerce—just commerce of a different nature, a little darker. They dodged shoppers on the sidewalk and cars on the cobblestone streets as he led her straight across the
ceantar dubh
to Goblin Town.

They came out of an alley and smack into the heart of it.

“Oh, sweet Danu,” Emmaline breathed beside him. It made him remember that even though she was fae, she was still just a visitor here. This was her first look at one of the more unique parts of the city.

Goblin Town was thronged with . . . well, goblins. Tall, thin, and gray in color, they looked deceptively breakable. Instead, they were some of the most bloodthirsty and threatening of the fae races. Luckily, they also lived by a strict code of conduct and were content to let the other races live as they wished, so long as everyone let them live as they wished.

Most of the fae races had fertility problems, keeping their numbers low. Not so the goblins. Females walked down the streets in droves, one spindly arm hooked through a shopping basket and a goblin baby tied to their hollow chests with brightly colored fabric. The babies sent up thin, alien cries once in a while to mix in with the conversations of passersby, all conducted in the guttural goblin language Alahambri.

Because the goblin population had outstripped the area allotted for Goblin Town when Piefferburg had been created, stores and homes sat packed cheek by jowl, rising into the air through construction add-ons in teetering, towering, reaching extensions. The streets were dirtier here than in the rest of Piefferburg, owing to a combination of overpopulation and a simple difference in culture.

And there were many differences in goblin culture. That was why they required—desired—their own little part of the city. It was a boon the rest of the races had been happy to grant. For example, most of the other races didn’t have the same culinary preferences the goblins did. The marketplace was an area in Goblin Town best avoided by outsiders.

Just over the roofs of the unstable, narrow buildings, Aeric could see the golden dome of the Temple of Orna, the primary goddess of the goblins. A hell of a lot of damage had been done to that beautiful place when the Phaendir had dared abduct the Unseelie Royal last year.

“It’s incredible,” murmured Emmaline, coming to a stunned stop at the mouth of the alley.

He yanked her forward, casting a look over his shoulder. “Sorry we don’t have time to sightsee.” She was shivering. “You’re cold.”

“Well, yeah. It is cold out here.”

It
was
cold. He just hadn’t noticed. It was still early spring and the days went from warm to cool in the blink of an eye. “Okay, come on, we’ll get you a coat.” A shop would be as good a place as any to wait out Kolbjorn.

“We’re not going to be able to go back to the Black Tower, are we? Too many Unseelie want to kick my ass.”

Aeric shook his head. “But I think I know where we can go.”

But fuck if they weren’t going to have to stay together. Goibhniu help him.

He led her into one of the many goblin clothing stores, the little bell at the top of the door chiming their arrival. Emmaline was tall and thin, not unlike a goblin. They could probably find something to fit her.

The crowded shop swallowed them up. Racks of clothing, piles of shoe boxes—there was hardly any room to walk.

A goblin female greeted them, her thin lips pulled back in the grimace that passed for a smile in this species. Curiosity regarding their presence shone in her large green eyes. Not many outsiders shopped in Goblin Town. In Alahambri she asked if they needed help. The shopkeeper probably spoke English and both New and Old Maejian, but goblins liked to force the rest of the races to speak their tongue.

While Emmaline stared, Aeric slipped into Alahambri easily, explaining they needed to find a coat that would fit a fae of Emmaline’s size.

The woman went into the back and returned with a dark blue silk jacket with an image of the fat, squat goddess Orna embroidered on the lapel. It was a beautiful jacket, but, more importantly, it would keep her warm. He pulled out his wallet, paid the woman, and they cautiously headed out of the shop.

. . . Only to have a lightning bolt hit the concrete of the sidewalk about a foot from where they stood. Emmaline yelped and stepped backward, a hand to her leg.

No time
. They bolted, running down the street toward the temple. “Are you okay?” he yelled over at her.

“What a dumb question,” she fired back angrily as their feet pounded the pavement.

He wished for a charmed iron weapon of some sort, something more than just his little carving knife, so he could turn and fight. But even if he had one, he couldn’t deflect lightning bolts. He’d still be shit out of luck.

Parked on a side street near a café, he spotted a motorcycle he recognized.
Bran
. He was in Goblin Town often, buying up the animals in the marketplace and setting them free in the Boundary Lands. He dragged Emmaline to it.

“What the hell are you doing?” she asked, casting a nervous glance over her shoulder.

He sought the extra key he knew would be under the seat. “I know who owns this.” He scanned the café but didn’t see Bran anywhere. He was probably at the market doing the animal goodness that only Bran could do. “He’s a friend.”

“He’s not going to mind you stealing his motorcycle?”

“Uh”—he grinned—”yeah, he’ll mind.” Shoving the key into the ignition, he turned it and the bike started with a roar then settled into a kittenish purr. It wasn’t his baby, but it would have to do. “Get on.”

She hesitated, but then Kolbjorn came around the corner and she threw herself onto the back of the bike. She’d barely grabbed his torso before he took off, making her yelp in surprise and clutch at his chest. They sped down the street, scattering bits of paper and other refuse in their wake and leaving a disgruntled Kolbjorn eating their exhaust fumes.

 

 

HOT
blood made its way down Emmaline’s calf and dripped off her foot. Her leg throbbed with hot pain and made her light-headed. Still, she tried to concentrate on the sights around them. Piefferburg was an amazing place. Not somewhere she wanted to get stuck in forever, but a cool place to visit.

She’d seen pictures of the city, of course—the odd mix of old and new architecture, the cobblestone streets and Piefferburg Square. The Boundary Lands were less photographed and they were beautiful. Lush, filled to bursting with flowers that should not be growing so early in the season. The air that met her nose was fragrant and too warm for early spring. This was a place of magick—literally.

The woods had never been this alive in Ireland, this condensed with sprae. Being who she was, she’d always been aware of the various nature fae, but back then they hadn’t been allowed to really let loose with their magick. Back then the most magick she’d noticed in the forest had been a shadow out of the corner of her eye, or maybe a sparkle that shouldn’t have been in the foliage. Here, ironically, the nature fae were free to do their thing and their magick made everything beautiful.

If the humans weren’t so stupidly afraid, they could enjoy this, too.

It seemed like they drove many miles, an hour out of Piefferburg City for sure. There they went off-road and followed a small, overgrown path into the woods. She clung to Aeric, her arms around his tree trunk of a torso, her hands barely able to link on the other side.

Finally they came to a stop at a small cottage that was overgrown with weeds. “This place belongs to the birch ladies,” he said, shutting the engine off. “Normally I would let them know we were here, but I don’t want to endanger them if Kolbjorn tries to hunt us down. They won’t mind if we use this place, though. The birch ladies help travelers in need, especially female travelers.”

“The nature fae already know we’re here,” she answered, her voice sounding breathless. “I’m sure a birch lady will be arriving shortly.”

“It’s possible. The small ones might let them know.” He paused. “Uh, Emmaline, you can let go of me now.”

“Sorry.” She’d rested her head on the back of his broad shoulder. He was so warm. She unwound her arms and dismounted. Putting pressure on her leg made her yelp. Damn, it was worse than she’d thought. She limped a few steps then sank to the ground.

“What’s wrong?” His gaze skated over her body, froze on the blood soaking the bottom of her pant leg. “What the fuck, Emmaline? Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt this bad?” He sounded enraged.

“We needed to put distance between ourselves and Kolbjorn. No time to stop. It happened when we left the shop in Goblin Town, the lightning bolt. I was running on adrenaline, didn’t feel any pain until you found the cycle. I figured getting on the back and getting out of the city was preferable to fainting at that time.” She touched her head. “
Oh
. Might be a good idea now, though.”

Danu, she
was
going to faint. Oh, hell, fainting would be so embarrassing. Especially after the way she’d kicked that fae’s butt back at the Black Tower for a whole minute and a half. She’d been feeling so badass, too.

His hands cupped her shin, making her wince. Her skin was laid open in a wide gash from her ankle to her knee, speckled with tiny bits of pavement. When Kolbjorn had exploded the sidewalk near them in front of the shop, she’d caught some shrapnel.

He lifted her in one smooth move and she blacked out for a moment. When she came to, he was laying her on a bed covered with a thick multicolored eiderdown. The inside of the cottage was chilly and small but clean. He muttered at her under his breath as she weaved in and out of consciousness.

When she could, she glanced around. There was a small kitchen, a fireplace, and couple of rocking chairs. The place looked idyllic. “Where are we again?”

“A safe place. The birch ladies keep these little houses all over the Boundary Lands. Just relax, okay?”

“How did you find this place?”

He bared his teeth at her. “Because I’m a special snow-flake. Now chill out, be quiet, and stop asking questions.”

She chilled out. Chilled out so much that she passed out.

Searing pain made her come screaming to awareness sometime later.

“Drink this.” He pushed a cup at her. “Fuck, I was hoping you’d stay unconscious while I did this.”

There was an obvious question that needed to be asked in response to that, but she was pretty sure she didn’t want to hear the answer. She gripped the cup in shaky hands and looked down. He’d stripped her jeans off. They lay in a bloody—cut to ribbons?—heap on the floor near the bed. She wore only her white cotton panties. Normally that would have seriously pissed her off, but the gash stole all her righteous indignation.

She examined the wound and heard a tiny sound. A moment later she realized the tiny sound had come from her.

He followed her gaze to the slash in her shin. “Yeah, it’s bad. It’s kind of a miracle the bone didn’t snap, but luckily it’s just a flesh wound. Some of the sidewalk from Goblin Town sliced you open. I cleaned it out really good while you were out, but you need stitches.” He jerked his head at the cup. “Drink.”

“
You’re
giving me stitches?”