Kyn Series (13 page)

Acting on pure instinct, she grappled with the wardrobe behind the door, pulling it until it toppled over. It crashed across the door diagonally, blocking it. Not a moment too soon. Heavy thuds and curses erupted from the other side.

Running high on adrenalin, Tessa whirled around, checking the cot which held Spud. Startled blue eyes stared back at her, then watered as he wailed, obviously scared by the sudden noises.

“Shh, shh, it’s gonna be okay, I promise,” she whispered, already looking around the room for something she could use as a weapon. She’d blocked the door but there was no way she could block the window.

She gathered Spud into her arms, trying to soothe him. “Shh, shh, little man. I need you to be quiet, okay?” she murmured, backing up and looking for somewhere to hide him. There! Under the changing unit!

“Sorry about this,” she whispered, kneeling down and shoving him as far toward the back as she could.

Just in time. As she straightened, the door crashed inward. The wood of the wardrobe, a nursery-sized one rather than full-sized, groaned in protest as she pushed it along the carpeted floor.

“Get out! Help! Help! Someone help us!” Tessa shrieked like a banshee, hoping beyond hope to wake someone up in the surrounding units. She threw things at the Pixie clambering over the wardrobe. Changing baskets and trailing nappies flew through the air and obscured his vision, but the bottles were far more effective, heavy with baby oil and lotion.

“Lisa, I’ll never complain about your stockpiling again!” Tessa promised in an undertone as she hurled bottle after bottle with bruising accuracy, grinning as the Pixie yelped and tried to cover his head with his arms. She’d always been a good pitcher as a kid. But time was running out, and she knew it. Soon, she would run out of ammunition and she had no clue what she was going to do. She was half Pixie, yes, but she was also female and small, for either species. Her grasp on magic wasn’t going to help much either, since she could only manage low level glamour, appearance, and perhaps some “fairy lights,” but that was about it.

Fairy lights. That was it! Tessa threw the last bottle, managing a clear strike on the guy’s forehead, which rocked his head back. Could she do it? She had nothing to lose by trying. Closing her eyes, she reached deep down inside herself. It was wonderful how imminent threat aided her concentration, delving into the part of her which was pure Pixie. She smiled as she opened her eyes, feeling the familiar tingle in her fingers as the Witching, the magical layer in everything, surrounded her, reacted to her.

She raised her hands, spreading them out as tiny balls of light appeared over her palms. Fairy lights, a charm to amuse children and considered a party trick and nothing more. The Pixie didn’t seem impressed, rubbing his head as he straightened and glared at her.

“Pretty, but it ain’t going to help you one bit, bitch! Hand over the kid!” he ordered, as he advanced menacingly. This was it, now or never. She tested her hold on the Witching, finding it firm, then flicked her wrists. The lights, normally benign orbs which fluttered around like fireflies, turned into something akin to wasps.

The soft buzzing around them increased to fever pitch. One broke away, the Pixie’s eyes following it, hovering higher than the rest for a moment. Then it dive-bombed, heading right for the intruder’s eyes.

“
Holy shit! Get it off me!
” He flapped his hands and arms as he tried to fend off the attacking ball of light, which had acquired the tenacity of a terrier. Ignoring the flailing hands, it dodged and darted in, attacking repeatedly.

That seemed to be the signal, as the floodgates opened and the rest attacked like a horde, diving and circling, completely blinding the Pixie. As he fumbled around the room, trying to shake them off, Tessa looked around for something to knock him out with.

“Fluffy toys, fluffy toys… Christ! Isn’t there anything harder than a damn
marshmallow
in here?” she exclaimed in frustration, running out of options…and time. The glamour she’d cast wouldn’t last forever, and she wouldn’t be able to cast again for at least an hour.

Then her gaze glided down the side of the shelves. There, tucked away in the corner, was James’ prize possession. A baseball bat signed by someone or other. Tessa grabbed it like it was a lifeline, dragging it out from the tiny gap. Palms sweaty and heart pounding, she padded toward the Pixie. Could she do it? Could she actually swing the bat and hit another living creature? She wasn’t a violent person…not really…she was all mouth and bluster.

“Argh, you wait, bitch! When I get these damn things off me, I’ll fucking gut you!” The Pixie’s bellowed threat made up Tessa’s mind for her. She drew the bat back, and closing her eyes and wincing, she swung it with all her might.

It hit with a meaty crunch, the Pixie’s threats and complaints falling silent, along with a dull thud, as something large hit the floor. Tessa opened her eyes in surprise, looking down at the prone form of the Pixie. She’d done it! She’d actually done it!

“
And that one’s outta the park!
”

Tessa swung around at the voice from the doorway, drawing the bat back again. An automatic reaction, ready to swing for anyone who wanted to take the baby. But it was Feral’s dark eyes that met hers, amusement in them, as he worked to clear the ruins of the nursery wardrobe out of the way.

“Oh my god, Feral!” She half squeaked, half gasped. She’d never been so pleased to see anyone in her life, throwing herself across the short distance and into his arms, the bat falling unheeded to the carpet. “Are you ok? You’re not hurt?” she asked, all but throttling him in her relief.

He chuckled, a deep rumble from low in his chest as he hugged her in return, his hands smoothing down her back, soothingly. “I’m ok. Take more than a bunch of half-assed Pixies to bother me.” He grinned, letting her go to continue clearing the doorway.

“Just remind me not to piss you off, okay?” He chuckled, nodding toward the bat on the floor and the still form of the Pixie. “Where’s the baby? We need to get out of here, like yesterday. Whoever sent this lot…well, they’re playing hardball.”

The Fae Court was the Eighth Wonder of the World. Actually, the First would be more accurate, since it had formed even before Fae memory had begun, and therefore, well before human memory. And certainly before any of the structures on the traditional list had been constructed.

The Court was a law unto itself. It worked to an agenda no one living or sane could figure out. Most of the time it appeared as the archetype of a romantic court. It had high vaulted ceilings and walls made of smooth, veined marble, the veins sparkling silver as they caught the light. Light came from glowing orbs set in brackets on the walls and from will-o’-wisps twisted into glorious crystal chandeliers. It was the sort of place someone would expect a fairytale princess to come around the next corner, brushing her hair and waiting for her “Prince Charming” to arrive. But occasionally, when the Court was stressed, it appeared in different forms. A gothic castle, or even, when it was really stressed, the rough-hewn dirt walls of the barrow as it had originally appeared.

But at the moment, it was a glorious sight to rival the best of any mortal king’s palace—and one few would ever get the chance to see. It was also completely ignored by the woman who swept through the massive doorway. Slender and almost childlike in form, she had the delicate fragility of a full-blooded Fae. One of the old blood, not the new generations whose blood had been filtered by Elven or some other magical creature. There weren’t many left these days. The old lines had died out, leaving just the Seven Sisters and Mab. With the newest generation, they would be gone. Though it was hard to worry so much when a generation could span thousands of years.

She stormed into the large, high-ceilinged hall, her face like thunder. With an imperious wave she ordered the door closed, ignoring the servant who scurried to do her bidding.

“So you failed. Why am I not surprised?” Although her appearance was ethereally beautiful, and the aura that surrounded her invoked feelings of goodness and awe, the voice that issued from the perfect cupids bow of her lips, however, was as sharp as a whip. And twice as venomous.

She stalked in front of the three Pixies sent to recover the Morrigan child, forced to their knees by her guards. All three trembled as she approached. A small smile curved her perfect lips as she switched the hem of her white gown away from their knees, worried about marking the pristine hem.

Fearful, just the way she liked them. Closing her eyes for a moment, she savoured the fear that oozed from their skin. She shivered—such a delicious treat!

“Do you
know
how much energy it cost me to get that brat separated from its parents?” Her voice sharpened as the initial hit from their fear wore off and she recalled their failure.

To a man, Pixie or Fae, everyone in the room avoided the gaze of the princess. The Pixies held before her, the guards doing the holding, as well as the gaggle of Pixies huddled in the corner. Her Pixies, to do with as she wished, after their fool of a Warlord tried to put one over on her, but ended up trapped by Fae law. She’d gloried in taking his pack, and his flesh, for the insult. Pixie flesh and blood were powerful. She hadn’t needed to feed for weeks after the Pixie Warlord had shared her bed.

A mutter from one of the kneeling Pixies drew her attention and she leaned forward. “What was that?” Her voice was a sharp demand.

“It wasn’t our fault!” the “leader” of the trio complained, daring to look up. His bravado didn’t last long and he looked down again, visibly quaking.

“There was a Kyn guy there, a warrior,” he muttered. “We were only expecting the woman and the baby,” he added, flinching, as though expecting a blow.

“Excuses, excuses! Always bloody excuses!” she exploded, seething in anger. If it wasn’t the bloody nanny, suddenly developing a conscience and dropping the brat off on the first Pixie doorstep she could find, it was this bunch of incompetents. A bloody Kyn indeed. Like she believed that!

“Do I have to do
everything
around here myself? Do
not
answer that, Talven!” she ordered sharply as her Guard Captain looked up, a frown on his handsome face.

That was the trouble with some of these half-breeds. Pretty to look at, but very much a case of “the lights were on but no one was home.” Talven, a Sidhe half-breed, fit that description “to a T.” The hopeful expression in his eyes bolstered her feminine ego while also irritating the hell out of her. If she were to kick him, she was sure he’d thank her.

She tutted under her breath. “Get these idiots out of my sight,” she ordered, with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Get them cleaned up and sent to my chambers. I’ll deal with them later.”

The low moan from one of the trio, while they were hauled to their feet, got her attention. But not as much as the fresh wave of terror that rolled toward her. She held out her hand, an unspoken order to stop as she stepped forward.

The sound had come from the youngest. Barely in his twenties with smooth, handsome features, and a strong, well-muscled body. He had the sort of looks that fired her interest, her body awakening as it felt the pull of attraction.

“Oh, don’t worry.” Her voice was a soft croon as she moved closer to press against him, nestling her slender body along his. He flinched, trying to move away, but the hard hold of the guards held him immobile. “There, there,” she murmured, her voice soft and loverlike as she stroked the side of his jaw. A fine tremor racked his body as she leaned in, to lay a gentle kiss on his lips.

“It’s all going to be fine, I’ll be gentle with you, I promise,” she assured him, a promise which didn’t seem to console the young Pixie. Faced with what she assumed was one of his worst nightmares wrapped up in a breathtakingly beautiful package, his breathing was panicked, his eyes wild as he looked at anything but her.

Growing tired of the game, she reached out and pulled his jaw around. He struggled, but she was far stronger than her delicate appearance should allow, even for a Fae. She caught his forest-green eyes with her own dark gaze. “We’ll have ourselves a good night you and I,” she whispered.

His terrified moan, more animalistic than anything, echoed around the chamber. At the same moment, a hot, acrid smell assaulted her sensitive nostrils. She leapt away, pushing off from his broad chest, her nose wrinkling in distaste as a dark stain spread over the front of his trousers.

“Oh for heaven’s sake! Get them out of my sight!” she hissed in annoyance. What was it with men these days? She longed to find a real man, not one that lost control of his bodily functions when she so much as looked at him. One who would stand up to her…

“Right, the rest of you,” she turned on her heel and glared at the huddled group in the corner as the others were dragged away, “get out there and get that damn baby, I don’t care how you do it. Just
do
it!” She barked her orders, a warning in her voice alluding to their fate should they fail her again. The atmosphere in the room grew cold, as though the very building were affected by her mood.

“Now
go!
” she snapped, turning in a flurry of skirts to stalk up the length of the hall. Movement broke out behind her as the Pixies made their escape, followed by the measured tread of her guard. A small sigh escaped her as she approached the dais at the end of the large hall. She paused at the bottom of the steps and looked at the throne.

Made of stone, it was one of seven, each sitting in a hall of its own around the Court. Or, when required, pulled by the Court itself into the Queen’s hall to sit flanked around Mab. One throne for each of the Seven Sisters. The Seven Fae princesses. Beloved by the land, all powerful amongst the Fae, and all that crap…but she wanted to be
more
powerful. She wanted, needed…

* * *

“What are you, some sort of one man army?” Tessa asked, leaning in the doorway of the main bedroom and watching Feral pull a multitude of weapons from a case. Ten minutes had seen a rapid exit from her sister’s now trashed apartment, Feral only allowing enough of a delay for her to grab her weekend bag and one for the baby. She knew her sister was going to
kill
her for the state of the place, but right at the moment, Tessa couldn’t bring herself to worry.

She shrugged the skinny fitting t-shirt she’d pulled on into place, smoothing it automatically over her now denim-clad hips, as she watched him with interest. She’d known he was dangerous from the moment she’d seen him on her doorstep. She knew enough about the Kyn to know the heavy tattoo-like marks across the side of his body and down his arm marked him as a Kyn warrior. Baddest of the bad-type dude. But it was one thing to know that intellectually, and quite another to see him kitting up.

Gone were the well washed jeans hanging low on his hips, the slight “V” of hair on his washboard stomach that disappeared into his waistband, teasing her beyond belief. They were replaced by a near identical pair in black denim over heavy black boots, teamed with a polo that clung lovingly to the heavy muscles of his chest and shoulders. The clothing, combined with the “badass” attitude that surrounded him, was undoubtedly enough to make old ladies crossing the street move to avoid him. And that was before the weaponry was considered.

His lips quirked as he continued arming up.

“Yup, pretty much so. Have to be when fighting the Rogue. We patrol in pairs but there’s always the chance your partner could fall. Then you’re on your own,” he said shortly, his face tight.

A brief flash of anger, a rage so complete, crossed his face and it took Tessa’s breath away. She didn’t need him to spell it out to tell her that something bad had happened in the past, that a partner had gone down. Curiosity filled her, but the forbidding look on his face warned her off.

His movements were deft, appearing to move with the ease of long experience as he strapped knives and blades over what seemed like every available body surface. Sheaths on the inside of his wrists, more in the heavy boots.

“You need
all that
for what you do?” she asked, her curiosity about him increasing. He moved with a grace she found fascinating, retrieving a heavy belt from across the back of a chair in the corner and buckling it around his lean hips. This was a different man from the one she’d been laughing and joking with back in her sister’s apartment.

*

“Not really, no. They’re mostly backup,” Feral replied, wondering idly if she ever stopped talking. Not that it bothered him like it usually would. He liked working with his patrol partner, Vixen, for one reason—she wasn’t into idle chatter. Women had a reputation for gossiping, but had nothing on men when they got together. Some of his previous partners had chattered so much he’d given serious consideration to killing them and hiding their bodies in a dumpster. But Tessa’s questions didn’t bother him at all.

“These are my main weapons.”

He shifted the heavy belt on his hips and reached to the small of his back. Without thinking, his fingers sought and found the guards of the blades in the sheaths fitted against his lower back. The next second, the blades were in his hands and he doubled his fists, moving easily into a guard position. Flexing his muscles, he showed off in a way he hadn’t done since he was a teenager, when he’d begun bulking up to warrior weight.

The blades weren’t knives, daggers, or anything that resembled a human weapon. More like heavy knuckle dusters, they fit across his hands, the razor sharp blades across his knuckles glinting in the beam cast from the hallway light. They were ancient weapons. Kyn weapons that had come with their race when they’d crossed from their home dimension.

“Hmm, those little things?” Tessa’s frown and the slight smile on her lips both appeared skeptical.

“That’s it, just diss the blades! Typical woman!” he huffed, pretending to be insulted as he slid the weapons away with a flourish.

“Oh no, after earlier, believe me, I’m more than happy with whatever you’re packing, sweetheart,” she said, the tone in her voice honest. Feral grinned as his mind made a dive for the gutter. This was just too easy.

“Whatever I’m packing huh? You sure you can handle it honey?”

The smile that curved her lips fired his blood, but not as much as the look of challenge in her eyes as she fell easily into the game. “Oh, you’d better believe it…and if we didn’t need to get out of here, like pronto, Mister Boss Man, I’d be proving it to you.” She reminded him they needed to move.

His chest expanded in a sigh of frustration. “Ok, I’m done. Grab the kid and let’s get gone.”

* * *

“Mikal, it’s Feral. Oh fuck it! I hate these damn things,” he muttered as he slid out of the seat of his truck, phone against his ear. He waited impatiently for the beep to start again. “Mikal, Feral. Got a bit of a situation. Bunch of Pixies broke in and trashed my neighbour’s place. I got her out and we’re at the Grey Lady. Give me a call when you’re free, would ya mate? Catch you later.”

He flipped the phone shut and reached for the bags Tessa held. “You sure we’re going to be able to get a room?” He eyed the front of the building dubiously.
Don’t these places need bookings or something?

She looked up at him as she slid from the passenger seat, Spud in her arms. She hadn’t been too happy about travelling without a proper baby seat. She’d argued with him halfway to the hotel, but then resorted to glares the rest of the way. Feral hid his smile, she was even prettier mad. He’d have to wind her up more often.

“We’re lucky to be here at all! What would have happened if the cops had stopped us?” She gritted her teeth. “You’d have gotten a ticket or something and they’d have taken Spud from us…we’re not his parents, they’d find that out straight away and then where would we be?”

Feral shrugged, the handles of both bags caught easily in one large hand, the other free, just in case they got jumped again. “I’m Kyn remember? I’d just have pulled a Jedi mind trick on them… ‘These aren’t the droids you’re looking for.’” He grinned as he waved his hand ala Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Her lips quirked a little, despite the glare she treated him to.

“I see my subtle charm is working as planned. So, what about it? You reckon we’ll get a room here? Not that many paranormal places…”