Death's Lover (24 page)

Dazed but standing before him was the embodiment of all his desires. Beside her was the frail form of Lise, smiling down at him.

“Eve.” Fear pierced his heart. His heart jackhammered in his chest.

She blinked. Twice. Three times. Her brows lowered, and she murmured a shaky “Cian.”

That sultry voice had him shooting to his feet, pulling her into his embrace, and burying his nose in her hair. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and it was like coming home.

“My heart.” His voice cracked, and he trembled. “I’m so sorry.”

Eve shook her head. Reaching up on tiptoes, she planted a kiss against the corner of his mouth. “No. Don’t apologize. It was all my fault. I should have been more understanding. I should have listened to you. I shouldn’t have—”

He placed his finger against her mouth, stopping her. “We were both wrong. I’m so sorry I hurt you.”

“Me too, Cian.”

He gave a short bark of laughter. His gothic rose, back with him. Alive. Jubilant, he lifted Eve in his arms and twirled her around.

She laughed, that deep, throaty sound that shivered down his spine. “What are you doing?”

Her joy turned her eyes golden—not just lioness gold; this was the purest, glittering kind. If he’d had any doubts, then here was his proof. Eve was truly an immortal.

“Eve, you’re immortal.”

“What?” Doubt touched her brows. She touched a hand to her cheek.

Lise nodded. “Yes, that’s right. An immortal, my dear. You are Cian’s perfect mate and are destined to travel the long path with him. You need never fear death’s touch again. As for you…” Lise glanced at the queen. “This is over,” she sneered, turning the full might of her powers on the queen, her eyes raking The Morrigan’s body like claws.

Dagda walked forward, grabbed Lise’s hand, and dropped a kiss upon the knuckle. “Chosen. I’m only grateful that you arrived when you did.”

The Morrigan hissed. Blue eyes going wide, she twirled on him. “You knew she’d come?”

“Of course, Chaos. Did you think me so foolish as to not plan ahead? I’m only sorry you got as far with Cian as you did.”

Her nostrils flared, hands fisted by her side. But slowly the sparks of her anger subsided and she gave a jerky nod. A grudging smile tipped the corners of her mouth. “I guess that means I lost after all.”

He grinned and grabbed her hand, pulling her into him. “It would seem so.”

“Bastard.”

Dagda shrugged and swatted her backside. “Let us leave, wench. These two have much to discuss.”

“Tell me this: why did you two fight so hard to save them?” There was no disgust in her voice, merely curiosity.

“All in due time, Chaos. Now come. I believe it is time you tasted of your own punishment. The rack room. A good flogging perhaps.”

A visible ripple traveled through The Morrigan. She bit her bottom lip.

“Lise. Cian. Eve.” He nodded to the three and dragged his very willing queen out of the room.

Eve shook her head. “That woman scares the hell out of me. She’s not right.”

Cian ran his hand down her back. It was so good to have his witty, saucy witch back. “You
should
be scared of her, Eve. Dagda can control the queen, but barely. Always watch your back when at the court.”

She looked at him, worry lines marring her forehead.

Lise clapped them on the shoulders. “Good advice, Cian. You might think about introducing your mate to the elders of the house. Garnering favor is never a bad thing. I’d start with the house of feathers. Wistafa maybe. I think she and Eve would get along admirably.”

He nodded.

“One thing I don’t understand, Lise.” He hugged Eve tighter to him. “Why was Eve required to die in the first place, if I carried her soul within me?”

Lise gave a heavy sigh. Sorrow tipped the corners of her mouth. “Balance had to be restored. Her mortal self had to die. What you didn’t know, Cian, was that you were saving her all along. You had to share souls. Once you did, she’d survive.”

A physical tremble rushed through Eve, and Cian strummed his fingers down her back in a soothing, calming motion.

The noise of shifting feet alerted them to another presence. Cian looked up and Eve sucked in a breath.

“Oh my god, Curtis. You’re a…”

Frenzy shook his head, pulling off the pendant and shifted to true form. Red hair and swirling silver eyes giving away his heritage. “I am called Frenzy, and yes, I am death.” He opened his mouth as if to say more, but nothing came out.

Eve’s jaw dropped open. “It was you, then. You bewitched me, caused me the headaches and blackouts. Why? What happened to the real Curtis?”

He crossed his hands behind his back, the reaper gesture of entreaty. A muscle ticked in his jaw. “He died several days past…”

She inhaled sharply. The sting of her friend’s death washed through her. Cian rocked her, accepting her pain, becoming one with it, and giving his strength back to her. She sighed, calming almost instantly.

“I did what I had to do. It was my job.”

Cian was wrapped in her anger and held her, let her know she wasn’t alone.

“That night, when I helped you find Samhain…”

He nodded and glanced down.

“I reached out to touch you and you pulled away. I didn’t get a headache or blackout.” She paused. “You had to touch me to hurt me, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

She paused. “Thank you.”

There was still pain, and she was consumed by it. It would take some time for her to get over it, but this was definitely a start.

He released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and dropped a kiss on her forehead. She was strong in so many ways. Even after all this, she’d thanked Frenzy.

Frenzy looked at Cian, confusion glittering in his eyes.

“I’ll see you around, Frenzy,” he said, knowing Eve could only take so much for one day.

With a final nod, the reaper turned and left.

“Hmm. I like happy endings, don’t you?” Lise sighed and turned to them with a smile.

“I wouldn’t call it happy.” He glanced at Eve’s upturned face. “But it’s a fresh start.”

She caressed his cheek and gave an almost-imperceptible nod.

“Touching as this all is, I really must go,” Lise said.

“Wait”—Cian grabbed her arm—“how did you know there was a light?” Only now was he stopping to wonder about it. Eve turned in his arms, facing Lise brimming with confusion and curiosity.

“I felt the flow of power. We created your mates, after all. I’d recognize my own spell.”

“What?” Eve asked on a breathless, half-nervous laugh.

He nodded. It all made sense now. “I’ll tell you tonight, Eve, over dinner.”

“You eat?” Her brows lowered, and she gave a tiny shake of her head. “I guess…there are some things I still have to learn about you.”

“I guess you do.” He brought her hand to his lips and dropped a kiss against the knuckle. “No more lies. Ever. My life is an open book to you.”

She gave him her famous crooked smile and his heart soared.

“Come visit me at the club sometime. Gets a little boring and I must admit I’ve grown rather fond of my sisters three,” Lise said.

Cian glanced down at Eve. She nodded. “It’s a deal.”

Lise waved good-bye, then faded.

“Well, what now?”

“I don’t want to stay here, if you don’t mind.”

He kissed the tip of her nose and nodded. “Me either.” She sighed in relief. “So where do you want to go?”

“I’d love to visit my sisters, they’ll never believe this.”

“Celeste least of all, I’d imagine.”

She wrinkled her nose, giggling. “Snarky woman. No, I can’t imagine that she would. I can’t wait to see what she thinks.”

He swiped his hand, opening the portal between the here and there. The swirling funnel spread out before them.

“Wow. What is that?”

“This, my love, will take us straight to your sisters.”

Her eyes widened and she glanced at him beneath her lashes. “Do you have any idea how much money we’ll save on taxis now?”

He chuckled. “I have a feeling life with you will never be boring.” He guided her through the portal, gripping her elbow.

She stopped and turned to him, mischief glittering in her gold eyes. “So, a millennia, huh?”

He frowned. “What?”

“Your age.”

“Who told you?”

“Lise, of course.” She grinned and wagged her finger under his nose. “I told you I’d find out.”

Cian threw his head back and laughed. “Yes, yes, you did.”

L
ise stood before her sisters—the chosen ones—and held out her hands in supplication. “It is done.”

Clarion inclined her head. Ebony curls cascaded against the mother-of-pearl floor. “You’ve done well, Lise. Is this the match we hoped for?”

Beams of sunlight surrounded the sisters in a wash of rainbow. The heavenly setting of white clouds and blue sky was surreal to Lise now, used as she was to the smog and buildings of the mortal realm.

“The souls merged. This is a true joining and will bring the peace death has sought for so long.”

Fatima scowled. Anger glittered in the dove gray of her eyes. “And what of the others? There must be balance. Order. Death grows weary, what if the rest decide to give up? What then?”

Lise narrowed her eyes and held her shoulders straight. “It won’t happen. We will do what we must to maintain order. Even if that means meddling, which I know you love, sister dear.”

Fatima turned a silver white, the air shivering with the snap of cold frost emanating from her every pore in a misty haze.

Naria stepped forward. Purple robes swirled around her ankles, golden bells tied to the sash of her belt jingled with each step. “Lise, the task
is
daunting. You know as well as I how violent and cold”—she glanced at Fatima—“death has become. Perhaps it is time we step back and allow this to happen. Allow it to end. We can rebuild, create a new species. One less prone to hostility.”

Lise set her jaw. “No. I see them as you never will. I live amongst them. They are my children, good or bad. I cannot walk away from them now, not without knowing I’ve given them a hope of more than that god forsaken existence within the halls of the fae.”

Clarion laid her hand on Lise’s shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Then heed Fatima’s vision, love. Aid the reapers to find their right mates and restore the balance of not only death, but life as well. Do not lose heart.”

Her children would find their peace, and perhaps in the process Lise would also see that bloodthirsty queen heeled into submission.

Time ticked on…

Marie Hall has always had a dangerous fascination for creatures that go bump in the night. And mermaids. And, of course, fairies. Trolls. Unicorns. Shapeshifters. Vampires. Scottish brogues. Kilts. Beefy arms. Ummm…bad boys! Especially the sexy ones. Which is probably why she married one.

On top of that, she’s a confirmed foodie; she nearly went to culinary school and then figured out she could save a ton of money if she just watched food shows religiously. She’s a self-proclaimed master chef, certified deep-sea dolphin trainer, finder of leprechauns’ gold at the end of the rainbow, and rumor has it she keeps the troll king locked away in her basement. All of which is untrue (except for the cooking part—she loves cooking); however, she does have an incredibly active imagination and loves to share her crazy thoughts with the world!

If you want to see what new creations she’s got up her sleeve, check out her blog:

www.MarieHallWrites.blogspot.com

T
hey were coming.

Mila panted, sweat pouring down her brow, her back. Her lungs burned with fire as she raced around the corner of the brick stone building, trying to lose herself in the labyrinth of alleyways that bisected the city like a giant tic-tac-toe square.

A glass shard wedged itself into the sole of her foot, but she barely even felt it. Somewhere along the way she’d lost her slippers. She couldn’t recall when or how.

She’d been in bed, dead to the world, and then the dreams had come—nightmares really, a vision of her future. She rarely had visions, but when she did, they always came true. There’d been four of them, shadows converging slowly on her house, their sharp, angular faces leering as they drew close. Mila had sensed their eager anticipation for her death; it’d clung in the air like oily tendrils, making her breathing hitch and her body shudder with an immediate wash of adrenaline.

She’d barely had time to grab a robe and slippers and slip out the bathroom window, running down the narrow pathway that separated her gingerbread-style home from her neighbors’ before she’d have been caught. The only element of surprise she still had left was the knowledge that they didn’t know she knew they were after her.

There was only one chance to escape them. If she could just reach Club X, Lise would give her sanctuary. Mila knew that, she didn’t know how, but she knew that Lise had power, had always sensed the frail-looking woman was more than she seemed.

Footsteps echoed behind her. They were being loud on purpose. She knew what these monsters were; she’d lived in San Francisco long enough, been around the day the creatures had finally come out of hiding. They wanted her scared, wanted fear pumping through her veins; it was an aphrodisiac to them.

They could catch her,
would
catch her. Running was just prolonging the inevitable, but she couldn’t stop, because stopping meant she’d given up, and Mila never gave up. Her grandmother and mother had raised her to fight, to be proud and to know that a woman’s worth didn’t come from being fearless but from being brave in the face of fear.

Her chest ached, her legs shook, she wouldn’t last much longer. It was three in the morning. There were no cabs available right now, but even taking a cab wasn’t safe. She’d put others in danger. They’d stop at nothing to get their hands on her, and she wouldn’t put anyone else’s life on the line—her conscious wouldn’t allow it. The vampires wanted her, and she knew why: because of her powers. But they didn’t know the truth. They’d kill her for something they could never hope to understand, could never hope to harness.

Somewhere an alley cat screeched.

The footsteps were getting louder. A whimper spilled from her lips. Her gaze frantically searching for any sign of escape, she spotted a dilapidated brownstone a few yards ahead. The windows were boarded up, and crime-scene tape was stretched across its doorless frame.

She’d seen that abandoned house before, in her dream. Below a metal grating was a secret entrance, a tunnel into the sewers dug out decades ago to help smuggle drugs. In the dream she’d crawled through it, finding a silver ladder affixed to the wall, which led up to the street. A sewer main had busted three days ago; city workers had been at the site, but the man responsible for replacing the manhole cover had gotten a call from his wife. She’d gone into early labor, he’d been careless, and the cover wasn’t on all the way. Which meant she could maybe push it off. The tunnel was barely ten yards from the entrance of Club X. The chance of safety was slim, but it was her only hope.

The breeze stirred, carrying the stench of the streets with it along with the sound of a coat flapping, like the rustling movements of bat wings. Her heart lodged in her throat as she dove inside the door, landing hard on her knees. Pain exploded in her joints and she had to bite down on her lip to keep from whimpering.

They were toying with her, like a cat with a mouse seconds before the kill. A quiet sob tore through her chest as she scrabbled back to her feet. It was so dark in here, and the smells were terrible—the place was musty and squeaking with rat chatter. Trying not to think about any of that, she held her hands out in front of her and made her way toward the kitchen.

She didn’t need to see to know where she was headed; the map of the house had imprinted itself in her mind the moment she’d dreamt of it. Ten steps down the hall, turn right at the first door, now she was in the kitchen.

Walk five steps forward and…Her fingers grazed the outline of an old fifties-style fridge. Planting her back against the side of it, she shoved off the balls of her feet, working it back away from the wall. From the metal grate hidden behind it, she was so close. A horrible metallic grinding sound reverberated like a gunshot through the nearly empty room as she pushed the fridge away from the wall. She was being too loud. They would find her, but she didn’t have a choice to go more slowly. It was now or never.

Almost there, almost there, I’m almost—

“Did you really think you could run, little mortal?” The voice was like ice, heating her flesh in a frigid embrace, breaking her out in a wash of goose bumps.

Squealing, she didn’t have time to think, because hard hands dug into her shoulders and flipped her around. Flailing wildly, she raked her nails down his face and then stomped down on his foot as hard as she could.

He hissed, then something connected with her jaw and all she could see was a halo of stars. Pain flared and throbbed through her skull as she sank to her knees.

“She’s in here,” the male called out, and Mila saw several shadows converge.

Reaching into her nightshirt, Mila yanked out her rosary. “Hail Mary full of grace, hail Mary full of grace—”

A woman laughed, then jerked her chin up. Nails bit into her skin, broke through it, and then something thick and warm slid slowly down Mila’s jaw, bringing a wafting metallic scent with it.

“You think your God can save you now? We’ve been looking for you a very long time, little seer. The time for running has ended. We want what you have.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her words came out short and choppy through clacking teeth.

This time the hands that touched her were gentle, gliding, and then they framed her face, forcing her to stare into the glowing blue-eyed gaze of her captor. The burn from his eyes highlighted his features, and she cringed. The man staring at her had half his face melted off; his lips were grotesque on the left side, looking almost like they were sliding slowly down. His skin was mottled and as pink a newborn rat’s.

“We will get what we want, mortal.” His voice shivered with raw power, and Mila knew there’d never been a chance of escape.

For the first time she’d seen a future that was not to be. But she didn’t have time to question it. How she’d seen safety, felt deep in her bones that Lise would save her…only to now stare death straight in the face.

His thumb rubbed along her cheekbone; his one eye searched her face. The other was nothing but an empty socket. He smirked, the right side of his lips tilting up just slightly.

“This is what your kind has done to mine. You swore we were safe, and yet still you try to hunt us. But your powers…” His mouth parted and a sort of hungry gaze burned back at her, his breathing rose as if he were…sexually excited. It made her stomach turn. “Your powers will level the playing field.”

“But you don’t understand. It’s not…It’s not what you—”

His nostrils flared and he clamped her lips shut forcefully, his long nail nicking her flesh and making her hiss air between her teeth at the sharp burst of pain.

“Shut up. We played your game. Now it’s time for you to play ours. Vanity”—he looked at the feminine shadow standing beside them—“hold her legs. This might get messy.”

Her screams echoed through the night.