For Whom the Spell Tolls (28 page)

I just shook my head and started to laugh before my back began to ache and I had to swallow the rest of my amusement. Meanwhile, Knight smiled at the man beside Dia. “Cannon,” he greeted him with a friendly tilt of his head.

“Vander,” Cannon replied, giving Knight a duplicate of the nod Knight had just given him. On a list of hot men, Cannon would easily have been at the top. As a Loki, he was on the tall side, maybe as tall as Knight, with broad, powerful shoulders and equally striking legs. His skin was almost as dark as Dia’s. Whereas Dia’s round, chocolate eyes lit up her entire face, Cannon’s eyes were a crystalline green. They were so remarkable, I had a hard time prying my attention from them. His face was a blend of chiseled lines. His square jaw, lush, plump lips and high cheekbones almost looked sculpted.

Cannon’s back was still toward Dia, and she began fanning herself when her eyes settled on Cannon’s perfectly formed butt. After taking Cannon in from head to toe one more time, I returned my attention to Dia. With a simple nod, I let her know she was right on the money. Yep, she’d landed herself a hottie.

“Ms. Robinson,” Cannon said as he turned to face Dia again with a sexy grin. “Don’t we have places to go and Resistance team leaders to find?”

“Honey, how many times have I told you not to call me Ms. Robinson?” Dia piped up with her hands on her hips. “Diva will do just fine.”

Laughing her contagious giggle, she started for the door, wiggling her hips as Cannon came up behind her and swatted her on the butt, their laughter drifting through the hallway as they disappeared around the corner.

No sooner did they exit than one of our soldiers poked his head in the door. “Sir,” he said, addressing Knight, who sat on the desk, still trying to reach Fagan through the walkie-talkie.

“Yep?” Knight answered.

“Where would you like us to put the rest of the wounded? The dining room is filled to capacity,” the soldier answered.

The living room was our first makeshift ward for the wounded, then the dining room. I could only wonder how many soldiers from each side were wounded because they just kept coming. Although I preferred not to think about it, the dead were temporarily sheltered in the guesthouse, across from the main house. My vantage point at the window seat allowed me to watch body after body being taken inside the house. Not only were we laying our dead soldiers there, but my father’s as well.

“Which rooms are still empty on the first floor?” Knight asked.

“There are two bedrooms next to each other at the end of the hall, sir. Also the kitchen and two bathrooms.” 

“Start filling the two bedrooms,” Knight answered as the soldier nodded and left the room. Knight returned to his walkie-talkie, but eventually placed it on the desktop with a defeated sigh, still receiving no response.

A sense of worry brewed inside me while the question of where Trey was continued to gnaw at me, just like it had been for the past three hours. Yes, I was worried about Fagan too, but to a much lesser extent (it wasn’t like the Drow made it easy to like him). Regardless, I had to know if Trey was okay, which was why I couldn’t adhere to the advice of Sam, Knight and Dia and get some rest. I knew I couldn’t sleep if I didn’t know where my friend was. Furthermore, I didn’t understand how we’d been able to locate the majority of Trey and Fagan’s soldiers while both of them remained unaccounted for.

Yes, our attack on Tipshaw was successful, but it had also taken the heaviest toll of our soldiers. It was, after all, the largest of the Netherworld Guard’s base camps. Even though we’d suffered our largest losses at Tipshaw, the dead soldiers on my father’s side still exceeded ours. Really, all of our attacks had been successful. Even at Squander Valley. Despite the Netherworld Guard being prepared at Squander Valley, our soldiers were quick to realize they had the upper hand by virtue of their sheer numbers. So they continued to fight, even after many others retreated. In the end, they were victorious.

Christina had rounded up the remaining soldiers who fled Squander Valley. Then they basically made the same decision we had: that nobody was going down without a fight. Refusing to surrender or hide out in the forest, Christina and her soldiers marched on and attacked the base of Granttree. They took control of it in less than one hour, which was right about the same time Knight prevailed at Willoughby. That reminded me of something.

“Knight, “I asked, getting his attention without hesitation. The only good thing about being injured was how much more responsive Knight was, much more so than usual. “How come it didn’t faze you when my father’s men apprehended you and he insisted you call your men off?” I asked.

He smiled, self-assuredly, as if he couldn’t wait to answer my question. “Because I knew Melchior was bluffing. He had fifteen soldiers here at most; we had forty. End of story.”

“But how did you know he only had fifteen?” I continued.

“Bram told me.”

“What do you mean ‘Bram told you’?” I asked, frowning. “I was there the whole time and I don’t recall Bram saying one word to you about how many soldiers my father had.” So what if I sounded a little more irritable than normal? I mean, I
had
just died before miraculously returning to life. Who said that would be easy?

Knight smiled more widely and gave me a smug expression, hinting that there was something he knew that I didn’t. And more, he valued any information he was privy to that I wasn’t. “Bram told me in a manner of speaking,” he started. “When in the Netherworld, Lokis and their vampire brethren have an interesting relationship.”

“Here we go,” I muttered, shaking my head, because I’d already guessed the answer was probably “it’s just another Loki skill.” But when he didn’t tell me what exactly, his relationship with Bram was, I had to prod. “So?”

“In the Netherworld, Lokis and vampires share the same telepathic wavelength. If Bram wanted me to know something, all he had to do was think it.”

“Really?” I asked, sounding annoyed. It was just unfair that Lokis possessed cool abilities in the Netherworld, while fairies had to deal with reckless wings and sexual crack.

“Really,” Knight responded with a boyish grin.

I sighed. “And what did Bram tell you?”

Knight shrugged. “Pretty much the truth. Your father had no security at Willoughby, and as long as I didn’t end up in shackles, I could easily lead our rebellion. So that’s what I did.”

I remembered Knight asking my father not to allow his men to see him handcuffed. I also remembered the hop in his step and how he wasn’t the least bit concerned about spending the remainder of his days in my father’s dungeon. My father must have been clueless as to how many forces we’d brought with us because if he’d known how vastly overpowered he was, he’d never have agreed to anything Knight requested.

I nodded and my thoughts turned to Bram and the last time I’d seen him, when he believed I was dead. “Any word from Bram?” I asked, facing Knight, a knot of worry tightening my stomach.

He shook his head. “Nothing. I imagine he’ll show up sooner or later though.”

I just nodded and hoped he was right. I had to see Bram again, if only to thank him for everything he did for me, for us. But mostly, I didn’t want him to think I was dead. I wanted him to know that I’d survived. After witnessing the pain in his eyes when he’d believed me dead, I wanted to correct him. I had to let him know he didn’t have to grieve on my account. I couldn’t help wondering if I’d ever get the chance.

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” I heard a woman’s voice coming down the hall and recognized Rachel when she appeared in the doorway, surrounded by our soldiers. Her hair was a mess, blood covered half of her face and dirt colored her entire body. She looked like she’d been crawling through a muddy sewer.

Knight glanced up and immediately smiled with relief. He stood and hurried toward her, gripping her shoulders as he inspected her. “MJ, are you …?” he started.

“I’m okay,” she said again, her voice softer this time. She smiled up at Knight, matching his expression of relief. Then she shook her head, implying she’d had one hell of a trip.

“Everything is okay now,” Knight said as he opened his arms and she fell into them, wrapping her arms around his waist. They hugged for a few seconds before she looked up at him curiously.

“Is everyone accounted for?” she asked.

Knight shook his head and exhaled a pent-up breath of frustration and concern as he stepped away from her. He looked at his radio, as if hoping Fagan or Trey might call at any moment. “Everyone except for Fagan and Trey. We’ve recovered most of their squadron, but have yet to locate either of them.”

Rachel just nodded and gulped, saying nothing. “I hope you find them soon,” she said finally.

Knight sighed. “Me too.”

“Was Tipshaw a success?” Rachel asked, her eyes lighting up with hope.

Knight’s smile was broad and beautiful. For the first time since everything had gone down, I realized just how much weight was now off his shoulders. He’d waited for this moment for so long, building The Resistance with Christina and taking their time to ensure everything was just so. And now that he’d seen his dreams to fruition, his pride and overarching happiness was beyond obvious. What was more, I was incredibly proud of him—of all that made him him.

“Everything was a success,” he said softly.

Rachel studied him for a second or two, astonishment and awe visible in her features. “You mean we won?” she asked in a mere whisper. “We defeated O’Neil?”

Knight smiled and I watched Rachel’s shoulders shake as she lost control of herself and started to cry. Knight wrapped his arms around her and held her, patting her on the back while she tried to regain her composure. He eyed me too, I figured to double check that it was okay for him to comfort her. I smiled back because I was more than just okay with it. The bonds between Knight and me had grown too strong for the threat of jealousy to snap them. What pleased me even more, however, was that Knight could be there for Rachel, who clearly needed him.

“Rachel?” Hearing a voice, I looked up to find a striking man standing in the doorway. His eyes bore the expression of someone who’d been incredibly worried. But now, his worry began to vanish as he laid eyes on the woman he, no doubt, loved. He was very tall, maybe six-four, with brown hair and blue eyes. I sensed a kind of sweetness in his disposition. Since we were in the Netherworld, I couldn’t determine exactly what type of creature he was. If I had to guess, though, I thought maybe he was an elf—he just had a sort of regality about him.

“Mike,” Rachel said as she released Knight and caught the man’s gaze for a few seconds. Tears began to build in her eyes again as she ran across the room, before throwing herself into Mike’s arms. She continued to cry as he held her tightly. Glancing back at Knight, I found him looking at me. As soon as we made eye contact, he smiled and I could see his love for me gleaming in his eyes.

Neither of us said anything. I just watched him return to the desk where he picked up his radio again and tried to reach Fagan. As with the first zillion attempts, this one was also in vain.

Looking outside, I watched two of our soldiers carrying a cot with a covered body into the guesthouse. Moments later, the soldiers walked outside again, before disappearing through a portal. They were, no doubt, collecting more of the wounded and dead. Exhaling a sigh of despondency, I tried to discourage myself from looking in the direction of the guesthouse again. Observing all the death and destruction of war only depressed me.

“Dulcie,” I heard Knight’s voice and looked up at him expectantly. His expression was unreadable, but his prior elation was now nowhere to be seen. I brought my attention from Knight’s face to the soldier who stood beside him. It seemed like the young man was playing the part of messenger because Knight nodded to him in thanks as the man turned around and left the room. My attention fell on Erica and Sam, who were still busily hovering over the list of soldiers’ names. They were in the midst of deep conversation.

“What’s wrong?” I asked when I brought my attention back to Knight. He looked as if he’d just seen a ghost. I had to immediately gulp down the rock of apprehension that started climbing up my throat. Knight didn’t respond, but approached me, his stride heavy. When he was directly in front of me, he glanced down and there was a gravity in his eyes, which struck me. It was an expression I’d only seen once before—when he’d held me in his arms and thought I was dead.

“They’ve located Fagan and Trey,” he said softly, his tone and words giving nothing away.

I sat up, ignoring the ache in my back. Somehow, I already knew what Knight was about to tell me; I could feel it in the pit of my stomach. And it was a feeling I absolutely detested. But even though I was convinced I knew the truth, I still needed to hear it from his lips. “And?” I asked in a hollow voice.

“Fagan was badly wounded,” Knight said, swallowing hard. “Our men are transporting him here now.”

There was a dreadful silence that clung to the air. I knew I needed to ask about Trey, but I dared not. I was afraid what Knight would tell me. “And Trey?” I asked finally, my voice breaking.

Knight dropped his eyes to the floor and shook his head. I had to catch my breath while my entire body felt like it was collapsing. When Knight looked back up at me, there were unshed tears in his eyes. “Trey didn’t make it.”

I shook my head in denial. I couldn’t believe that Trey was really gone. A hollowness began to build within me that seemed to fill my entire being. My stomach plummeted to the floor and I couldn’t breathe. I also couldn’t think, couldn’t form one cohesive thought in my head. Instead, it felt like an enormous rock had just flattened me and stolen my ability to breathe, let alone form words.

“I’m sorry,” Knight said as I brought my eyes to his. I shook my head, still having a hard time accepting the truth of his words. The horrible feelings of loneliness and grief reminded me of a time long ago … my mother’s untimely death. Now as they returned anew, it seemed like I was time-traveling back all those years. My heart was in the process of ripping in two, just as when I’d learned the awful truth about my mother.