Fairyville (34 page)

She paced to the ancient tapestry that hung on her tower's curved wall, a masterpiece whose tiny figures moved and danced when she drew near. It had been created by the little fey, former subjects who now defended this woman.

Was it really murder if her victim was a human? And was it really wrong if it saved her son?

As queen, Titania enjoyed not only her personal power but the power that passed with the throne. Once upon a time, her husband's defection had threatened her position, but she had recovered, and in the years that followed she had arranged this realm exactly as she liked. Today, everyone else's magic was subordinate to hers. She might hate to admit it, but her son's support was becoming necessary to sustain that state of affairs. His philosophical oddities aside, Magnus was strong—both in magic and in character. The nobles would never dare band against her if he stood with her.

That he would stand with her she had no doubt. Her son had forgone his chance to abandon her when Jovian left—and he hadn't stayed just because his friends were, like some people said. Once Titania removed his human distraction, Magnus was bound to remember how devoted he was to her.

Really, once she weighed all the factors, her decision was easy.

She turned back to the waiting minion.

"Torture the woman first," she said. "Then, if she persists in refusing to give up my son, you may execute your 'final solution.' I'll watch you from my scrying pool."

The minion bowed deeply. "My queen," it said with seemingly genuine respect. "Obeying your orders will be our pleasure."

The attack came fast and furious, the minions having learned their lesson from their earlier misfire at the Vista Inn. Magnus thanked the Will-Be that the last ghost had been shooed in time, because he got no warning that his attackers were on their way. The minions were simply there in the thin spot the ghosts had made, lobbing fear spells and insults with equal glee. Zoe would be given no opportunity to muster angelic resources—or in this case, Magnus impersonating Zoe with the help of her lock of hair.

The disguise was so good it could have fooled him. Knowing his limits, Magnus had to wonder if Samuel had broken the little fairy pact about not working magic for their former oppressors. Either that, or desperation had sharpened his skills. When he gasped out his feigned confusion at what was going on, he could have sworn Zoe's voice issued from his throat.

For the first ten minutes, he put up a show of resistance. Not only would his mother mistrust a speedy victory, but it would insult Zoe to suggest she'd give up easily.

Then again, "easy" wasn't what he'd call this experience. The fear spells were just as skin-crawlingly awful as he remembered from boyhood punishments. It wasn't until the rain of rocks began, however, that he realized he might have underestimated his mother's zeal for scaring Zoe off.

"Wait!" he cried in his beloved's voice, his fear not as pretend as it had been before. "Can't we talk about this? Maybe I could just see Magnus on weekends."

"No you couldn't!" three minions roared in unison.

Their native realm was a hell dimension, neither Earth nor Fairy. Where they'd gathered, a flaming void had opened in his bunker's dome. To make the thin spot more inviting, Magnus had scraped away its protective layer of amethysts. The sound that rumbled steadily from the hole was like an evil electrical generator, and it wasn't long before he wished he'd made the opening smaller. He could see new elementals arriving by the minute, flashing their razorlike white teeth as their bloodlust rose. If Magnus didn't find a way to calm them, they were going to do more damage than he could heal. Already he was bleeding from a dozen wounds, his concentration strained from fighting off the artificial terror.

Had Zoe truly been here, she would have been scarred.

"All right," he said, judging the time had come for capitulation. "I
will give
Magnus up. No man is worth this much grief."

"We don't believe you," the minions chortled, a sound more like rusty chains than laughter. "We can smell fear, and you're not half as afraid as you ought to be!"

Magnus was wishing for his own "in" with Zoe's angels then. Sweat was rolling down him in the now airless atmosphere, stinging everywhere the rocks had broken skin.

"I don't need to be more afraid," he said. "I'm smart enough to cut my losses."

"We'll show you losses," the minions said just as something small and silver flashed through the air.

Magnus raised his forearm defensively. The flash came from an arrow tipped with fairy steel, a metal native to his homeland. He barely registered the slice it made before a second volley of shafts followed. Magnus was stronger than most humans and could heal quickly, but this particular metal demolished his defenses. Where he'd been trickling blood before, now it poured.

Dizziness rose with alarming swiftness. His legs gave way and dropped him to the fluorite floor. The size of the puddle his knees squelched in wasn't comforting.

"Stop," he gasped. "You don't have to do this."

The minions laughed uproariously. "Where are you big stuff angels now?" they said. "Don't you humans know other tricks?"

Help
, Magnus thought, though he doubted any was coming. He'd made Samuel cross his heart and promise to stay away, unsure how safe the little fey would be. Now he saw that might have been a mistake. His vision had begun to fade, darkening around the edges like a tunnel contracting.

The lead minion looked behind its own foggy shoulder, the other elementals parting so it could see. A mirror seemed to hang in the flames behind it, its surface rippling like water. Magnus's stomach did an unpleasant flip. He recognized his mother's scrying pool.

"Your Graciousness," the minion said as Titania's always lovely image appeared. "The human's strength is flagging. Do you want us to finish her?"

Magnus had a heartbeat to identify himself. He doubted his mother would kill him. Even the hope of his support strengthened her power base. But if he told her, she'd never let Zoe be. He had to keep up this pretense, even if it cost him his life.

His mind became very calm. He was aware that Zoe wouldn't thank him for doing this. Her heart was so big, so forgiving that she wouldn't wish her worst enemy to sacrifice himself for her—much less someone she loved. The truth was, though, that this wasn't a sacrifice for Magnus. He knew as clearly as Zoe did that death was only a change of state. He'd lived many years on the material plane and had fulfilled more dreams than he could count. Zoe was a baby compared to him. She deserved to finish what she'd come here for, whatever that was…
with
whomever she chose.

Love expanded inside him until his heart seemed ready to burst his ribs. His natural possessiveness fell away like some old suit he had no use for. He wanted Zoe happy. He wanted her well. And he'd never felt so purely joyous as the moment he decided to give up everything for her. In the beautiful hum of his elation, he barely heard his mother's words.

"Do it," she said.

A second later, the tunnel of his vision shrank to black.

"He's not here," Bryan said, having peered in all the windows of Magnus's house.

Zoe should have been glad to put off what was sure to be an awkward—not to mention bizarro—confrontation. Instead, she felt like something painful had squeezed her heart, like more than her romantic prospects depended on finding Magnus soon. She found herself wishing they hadn't slept so late. Saturday or not, her instincts told her this couldn't wait.

"He has a sweat lodge on his property," she said. "We should check that."

"It's ninety degrees out," Bryan objected. "Although, who knows how hot
fairies
like to be. Sheesh." He ran both hands through his rumpled hair. "I just wanna tell you guys, I'm not ready for more weird stuff."

Unable to promise this visit would be weirdness-free, Zoe pointed out the beehive dome of Magnus's getaway. It stuck out of the ground maybe thirty yards away from where they stood.

The three of them set off, each with a private sigh. Alex's face was stiff and Bryan's weary. Zoe didn't even want to know how bedraggled she looked tramping across the desert in her short red dress and her hooker shoes.

Halfway there, vertigo kicked her in the small of her back. She stumbled and went down, saved from pitching on her face by Alex grabbing her elbow.

"Hey," said Bryan, beside her, too. "You okay?"

"Too much sun," she mumbled, though they'd only been in it a few minutes. "I'm okay. We need to keep going."

Alex gave her a look that said he knew something was up, but he hauled her onto her feet all the same. The closer they got to the sweat lodge, the worse she felt, hot and cold and like she was seconds from passing out. All her brain would focus on was that she needed to reach that lodge.

"Let me carry you," Alex said the third time she tripped. "Bryan, you get the door."

"Are you sure?" Bryan asked. "She looks like she'd be better off waiting in the car with the AC on."

"Call Michael," Zoe begged in a whisper against Alex's neck. "Call him like you know he's going to come for you."

"
Archangel
Michael?" Alex's eyes were round, and Zoe knew he was going to balk.

"Call your Uncle Henry then. He'll pass the message to anyone you want."

Alex set his jaw, but this help he could believe in. "Uncle Henry," he said firmly. "We need assistance. Angels, please, if you can get them to come."

Bryan had been tugging ineffectually at the sweat lodge's door. At Alex's words it burst open.

"Shit," he said. "More damn rocks."

"Carry me down there," Zoe said to Alex. "We'll be okay. I can feel the angels surrounding us."

"Guys!" Bryan called from the belowground chamber in a strange, tense voice. "I think you need to see this."

Alex carried her down the steps into the dimness. At first, all she could see was the flickering hellfire up in the ceiling. That was startling enough, but then she noticed the slim, still figure lying on its side on the rock-strewn floor.

That sight clutched her throat in a fist of ice.

"It's you," Bryan said, gasping a bit in the stifling air. "That body looks just like you."

Zoe scrambled out of Alex's hold. No matter how the body looked, she'd recognize that energy signature anywhere. She fell to her knees beside it, dimly registering the odd flooring. The figure who resembled her was bloodied all over, its skin ghostly pale in the daylight slanting down the steps from outside. Arrows bristled from its front like a pincushion.

"Magnus," she said, somehow finding the strength to lift his shoulders onto her lap. "Oh, God, what have you done?"

The moment she pressed her lips to his forehead, his disguise shivered and fell away.

"No," said a shocked female voice. "
No
! You didn't make me attack my son!"

Whoever the voice belonged to, Zoe didn't need the angels to banish it. It disappeared with a cry of aggravated horror, taking the circle of hellfire along with it.

At the moment, Zoe was too worried to be grateful.