Ever After (10 page)

“You speak as if you understand what it's like to long for the one you love,” she said on a sigh.

“I do,” I admitted, raising my wineglass in salute.

Guinevere lifted her glass in response and opened her mouth to say more when a small thud sounded outside the dining room. She frowned, her gaze trained on the doorway. “What in the world was that?”

Apprehension shot through me, clenching my gut when I thought of Arabella, searching through all of Guinevere's things. When my hostess got to her feet, I rose along with her, and eased her back into her chair. “Please,” I said with a grin. “Allow me.”

I didn't wait for her response before striding out to the foyer and glancing around, searching for Arabella. The patter of light footsteps sounded down the hall, so I followed. Although I knew she had the cloak, I could sense her presence before I reached the door to the library. I eased it closed behind me. The moment it latched, Arabella shoved the hood from her head.

“You two are getting awfully cozy,” she noted, an angry edge to her voice.

“Isn't that what I'm supposed to be doing?” I whispered. “I'll be the first to admit, I had Guinevere all wrong. She's really just terribly misunderstood.”

Arabella rolled her eyes. “If you believe that . . .”

“How's the search for the ring going?” I asked, changing the subject.

She shook her head. “Not great. I've looked everywhere I can think of in her bedroom. I even checked the guest rooms. Nothing.”

“So much for Merlin's ‘in her jewel case' theory,” I murmured. “Where next?”

She let out a sigh and glanced around the room in which we were standing. “Going to have to look down here. I'll start in this room. Try to keep her distracted.”

“I thought you didn't want me to get too cozy with her,” I teased with a grin.

Arabella narrowed her eyes at me and playfully smacked me on the arm. “Just keep her talking.” She started to pull the hood back up over her head but paused and wagged a finger at me. “
Talking
. But nothing else.”

I couldn't help smiling, enjoying the fact that she was feeling a little jealous. I was still grinning when I returned to the dining room. “All's well,” I assured Guinevere. “Just the house settling.”

“That's a relief.” She chuckled a little. “I've been hearing all sorts of noises in here the last few days. I can't tell you how many times I thought someone was in the house, only to discover that there was no one there.”

This brought me up short. “When did the noises start?” I asked, resuming my seat at the table. While I was gone, the dessert course had been laid out and yet another glass of wine poured.

She shrugged. “Right before the relics were stolen from the Met. I'd been a little jumpy about leaving them, and thought I was just imagining the sounds here because my nerves were already on edge. I'm glad to know it was nothing more than this old house's bones creaking.”

I forced a smile, wondering if the same thief who'd stolen the items from the Met had also visited the house, looking for more—perhaps even searching for the very ring that was reported to be on the premises but Arabella couldn't seem to find.

“Have you noticed anything else strange about the house?” I asked. “Anything else give you cause for alarm?”

“Not until now,” she said, her tone wary. “Why do you ask?”

I gave her a reassuring smile. “No reason. Just want to make sure you're safe here, that's all. This house is rather secluded, after all. I'm surprised that the friend who gifted it to you for your stay would leave you out here all alone.”

“I'm not alone,” Guinevere corrected, rising to her feet and coming toward me. “I have my maid and my manservant.” She came around behind my chair, trailing a fingertip across my shoulders. “And now you're here.” When she reached the other side of my chair, she slipped the straps of her dress from her shoulders, letting it slide down her slender form to pool at her feet. As I'd suspected, she'd been wearing nothing beneath.

Ah, hell . . .

I swallowed hard, hoping Arabella wouldn't choose this moment to come checking up on how my little chat was going. “Guinevere—”

She draped herself across my lap, but in her tipsy state, she lost her balance and fell backward. Instinctively, my arm went around her waist to keep her from tumbling off.

“My lady,” I began, “please don't think—”

Suddenly, she was pressing her lips against mine. Before I could even react, an angry gasp from within the room brought Guinevere's head up, and she glanced around in confusion.

Well, shit. Arabella.

This visit was just going to all kinds of hell. Things couldn't have looked worse than they did at that moment with the former queen of Camelot draped across my lap, completely naked but for her stiletto heels. I took hold of her arms and gently but firmly eased her from my lap and onto her feet.

“You heard that, too, didn't you?” Guinevere asked, confused.

“I think you mistook the intention behind my invitation to dinner,” I told her, picking up her dress from the floor and handing it to her. “And for that, I apologize.”

But apparently my rebuff was the least of her concerns. Holding the dress against her breasts, she strode angrily from the room, calling out, “Who's there? Come out right now, damn you!”

I heaved a sigh of exasperation and made to follow her but Arabella was blocking my path, hands on her hips,
pissed-off
written all over her face. “What the hell was that?” she demanded in a fierce whisper. “You were supposed to be talking, not all—” She wrapped her arms around herself and made kissing noises while wiggling her hips back and forth.

I laughed in a loud burst before I could stop myself, but choked it back when her expression went from
pissed off
to
fucking furious
. I raised my hands before me. “I'm sorry,” I whispered. “I had no idea she was going to throw herself at me like that.”

Arabella gave me a wry look. “Really? The
shag me
vibes she's been throwing out at you all night didn't clue you in?”

“Did you get the ring?” I asked, glancing toward the doorway, pointedly changing the subject. I could still hear Guinevere calling out angrily as she marched through the house.

Arabella huffed and lifted her right hand, showing me the silver ring on her middle finger. I wasn't entirely shocked or offended by the fact that it was the only finger she raised. “Yeah, it was hidden in a cigar box in the sitting room. Seemed a little odd for a former queen to have a box of stogies sitting around, so I took a look inside while you were playing kissy-face with Guinevere.”

I rolled my eyes. “I wasn't—”

A scream upstairs and a loud thud cut me off and brought both our gazes to the ceiling. I bolted for the doorway, taking the stairs two at a time. “Guinevere!”

A muffled cry at the end of the hallway was the only response. I crashed into the room just in time to catch a glimpse of a man in a hooded cloak not unlike Arabella's. He had Guinevere in a headlock, a knife to her throat. When he saw me, he flung Guinevere at me and darted toward the open French doors that led to the balcony. Before I could set Guinevere away from me, Arabella raced by, giving chase.

I took hold of Guinevere's shoulders. “Stay here,” I ordered. “And lock the doors. Don't let anyone in.” Sobbing hysterically, she didn't respond. I gave her a little shake, and bent my knees so that I was at eye level with her. “Guinevere, do you hear me? I'll be right back. Lock the doors.”

This time she nodded.

Not waiting another instant, I bolted for the door and flung myself over the balcony railing, landing in a low crouch, my eyes scanning the darkness. All was still. I conjured a handful of fairy dust and blew across my palm, sending my searching spell out to look for Arabella. Instantly, her footsteps lit up, giving me a trail to follow.

I ran as fast as I could, not bothering to hide my movement, my only concern getting to Arabella before that bastard—whoever he was—could harm her. A moment later I heard someone panting. Then I saw him—the cloaked intruder. He was bent over slightly, catching his breath. I slowed my pace, now creeping forward.

But he must've sensed my presence. His head snapped up. I didn't realize he had a gun until he raised his arm and the moonlight glinted off the steel. I brought up a protective shield with my magic but before he could get a shot off, I heard the hiss of an arrow. The man howled in pain as the point struck home, going straight through his forearm. The gun fell to the ground with a soft
thud.

I barreled forward, taking him down. He grunted a stream of curses but recovered quickly, his fist coming around and striking me in the temple.

I was stunned by the blow just long enough for him to squirm out of my grasp. But instead of running, he turned to kick me in the ribs. Which was a mistake. All it did was piss me off.

With a roar of rage, I grabbed his leg and pulled it out from under him. He landed flat on his back with a gasp as the air shot out of his lungs. I was on him in an instant, my fist slamming into his face twice, leaving his mouth bloody and his nose broken. I raised my fist again when he lifted his hands up in surrender.

“No, please!” he blubbered. “Stop! Gideon!”

The fact that he knew my name brought me up short more than his pleas for mercy. I grabbed him by the collar and jerked him up into a sitting position, then conjured a ball of silver light.

“Georgie?” I breathed. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“You know this guy?” Arabella asked, now standing beside me, her bow in hand. She must've grabbed it from her stash of tools outside Guinevere's house at some point during her pursuit.

I got to my feet, dragging Georgie up with me. “Yeah, I know him. He's a petty thief who's been dealing fairy dust.”

Georgie held up his hands in front of his chest, taking a few hesitant steps back to put a little distance between him and me. “I swear, it wasn't what it looked like,” Georgie stammered. “I wasn't gonna do nothin' to Guinevere. I was just supposed to take something. That's it. But she surprised me.”

“What were you supposed to be stealing?” I demanded, with a glance at Arabella.

Georgie's frightened gaze darted back and forth between the two of us, probably trying to figure out which one posed the bigger threat. “Just jewelry,” he insisted. “That's it. I was just supposed to grab some shit and get out. They told me I could keep whatever my employer didn't want.”

“Who's your employer, Georgie?” I asked, taking a menacing step forward. “Is it the same asshole who's got you dealing D?”

Georgie's head bobbed up and down. “Yeah, yeah. Same guy. But he's just a messenger. None of us knows who the real boss is.”

“Then who's the messenger?” I pressed. “Gimme a name, Georgie.”

“Can't,” Georgie insisted, shaking his head frantically.

Arabella nocked another arrow and drew back, this time aiming at his chest. “Can't,” she asked, “or won't?”

Georgie whimpered. “
Can't,
I swear! You don't understand what'll happen to me if I give you a name.”

I jerked my head toward Arabella. “I know what'll happen if you don't.”

“Okay, okay!” Georgie glanced around, his nervous trembling visible even in semidarkness. “It's”—he lowered his voice, whispering—“the
Huntsman
.”

“Bloody hell,” Arabella breathed, just as horrified as I was to hear the name.

Bloody hell
was right. No wonder Georgie was ready to piss himself for the second time in our association. The Huntsman was
the
Tale assassin. There was a reason Snow White's stepmother had sent him to do her dirty work. The Huntsman had no morals, no scruples. He was ruthless. That part of the story about his having a change of heart? Total bullshit. Snow got lucky, that's all. It was the one and only time the guy ever failed in his assignment that any of us was aware of. There were days that I deeply regretted the deeds I'd committed as a soldier and a thief and a servant to my king. But I seriously doubted that the Huntsman ever gave any of his crimes a second thought. He enjoyed the hunt ... and the killing.

And for whatever reason, he'd set his sights on the same treasures we had. It didn't surprise me that he'd hired a little piss-ant like Georgie to do the shit work. He didn't have the time or the inclination to deal with petty jobs and recon work. He liked the big jobs—and if there was killing involved, even better. No, the real question was who the hell had hired
him.
Because no matter how much the Huntsman would get off on having all the relics of Arthur Pendragon and the power that went along with them, I found it hard to believe he'd be enterprising enough to come up with the scheme on his own.

“Where do you meet up with him?” I asked. “Have you ever seen him in person?”

Georgie nodded. “Yeah, yeah. He's a big-ass dude. Huge. About as big as you, Gideon. Got one of those military-style haircuts.”

I ran a hand down my face. “Thanks, Georgie. You just described about a hundred different Tales in the U.S. alone.” I sighed and decided to try a different line of questioning. “How's this all connected to the fairy dust thefts?”

Georgie shook his head. “Hell if I know. I'm a nobody, man. You know that. They don't tell me nothin'!”

I nodded. “Okay. Well, here's the way I see it, Georgie. Thanks to your little fuckup back at Guinevere's, I'm betting the FMA will be here in about five minutes. So, you can tell me what you know now and I'll tell them you were there to do a simple B & E job. Otherwise, I'll confirm whatever she tells them you were up to. And I can assure you, Georgie, you have a long record of assault charges on women. You think Al Addin—or Tess Little—is going to let you off with a slap on the wrist for another attempted sexual assault? You've only been out of FMA prison for a couple of years after doing all that time for the last ones.”