Remnants of Magic (30 page)

The beast loomed over its victims, snarling a grin. The arousal of aggression still flooding through him, making Lugh’s body ache for more.

“Enough.” Lugh’s own voice sounded foreign to his ears. Deeper. Throatier.

The beast, its violent desires served, skulked back into the shadows of his mind. Appeased for now, but not vanquished. It grinned with wicked amusement at Lugh, knowing its advantages. They wrestled now, but the beast won ground each time they battled. And eventually, Lugh would forget himself in its animal haze.

It had happened to Lugh before. The eclipse, as the fey called it.

And if he lost himself into the dark lusts, then all he’d fought for since the Collapse was lost.

That… and that alone… strengthened Lugh to forestall the black passions of his beast.

Lugh snatched up his torn jacket and the shoulder pack and continued on his way, leaving the wounded to recover enough to make off with their dead or be discovered by the waking city in a few hours, as fortune would have it.

Chapter Two

From the street, the building was not extraordinary from the others in this section of Dublin. Tall windows showed the interior hallway and the steps to the second floor landing. Lugh could see the doors to both apartments there. According to his directions, London’s was the flat on the right. Even with the curtains closed, the lights burning inside her flat cast a visible illumination. Selena informed him that London was still awake at this hour, and was expecting him. So he entered the building and made his way up to her chambers.

Lugh rapped twice and then braced his hands on either side of the doorframe. Closing his eyes for the moments while he waited, Lugh felt his own weariness catching up to him. During the last two nights with Selena he’d not slept. Her passions matched his own, leaving him pleasantly exhausted in the wake of their embrace. She’d fed more substantially from him this past evening than the previous one. He’d allowed the vampire to feast from the vein in his neck, which was a sign of his compromised state. As was his unintentional healing of his wounds.

Before being poisoned with dark magic, he’d not have allowed her such generous access to his blood. Of course, the vampire craved it, and always would for its taste and addictive qualities, but he could scant afford to sacrifice his strength or his magic to feed her desires. Although, this second evening in her company had been about more than simply trading pleasure for the artifact from the first realm of fey that the vampire had recovered for him.

Within Lugh, the beast purred like a great cat, satisfied and lazy with the indulgence of its hungers. Though in repose, the beast never slept, ever watchful and waiting for its next chance to rise. More than once before he’d been poisoned with dark magic, but never so slight that he maintained a sense of himself. In his mind, Lugh could choose to stretch out a hand to the feline and stroke its sleek black fur. It aroused and intoxicated him to give in to the temptation, to allow it to indulge its wicked desires, but once the beast slaked its need, Lugh could withdraw from it. It teased him with a sense of control that he knew to be false. Just an illusion to placate him so he might not drive the beast fully from his soul. But once the new realm was secured, and the threat of the Fade vanquished, Lugh would indeed cast away the darkness that invaded him.

This scant amount should not require excessive intervention to shed. Unlike before. This darkness was merely sunspots upon his heart of magic. Not the true horror of the full eclipse. Like as not, Willem could recount in gruesome detail all the brutality the eclipse had wrought, although Lugh possessed only fragmented memories of the nightmare.

In the past few months, the growing pain of the Fade had tormented him. Stoically, Lugh endured and pressed on. His quest too important to allow his personal agony to falter his step. Determined to sacrifice himself to save the fey and their magic, if need be.

But now…

He had to labor to bring such devotion to mind. The Fade weakened him mercilessly. The darkness restored his strength. It renewed his sense of power. Reminded him of passions. It seduced him with lusts he longed to indulge.

Even when he resisted, the lure remained ever present to succumb fully to the beast. Like the pressure of arousal against the constraint of good sense.

The door opened and Lugh lifted his gaze, taking in the woman before him. The dark sweats hung comfortably loose upon her petite frame, disguising her more tender features. The letters USMC appeared in bold strokes upon her chest. His curiosity did not extend far enough to lead him to inquire as to what those letters meant.

Even for the early hour, London appeared intense and focused. Far too alert, as if she’d drank an unseemly amount of coffee. Her dark eyes lit upon Lugh with a question she didn’t ask. Not that she needed to, for he knew the weight of her heart, and of the secrets she hoped to harbor from him.

Devious, but nothing compared to the spinning of ‘truths’ that the Seelie could weave.

“I’ve returned, as I told you I would.” Lugh reached out and stroked her hair in a simple sign that she would interpret as affection, but served another goal. Connection. He’d barely begun her conditioning when he left to deal with the problems that troubled the wood elves of Adara Grove. With time and correct handling, he could mold this human to his purposes.

Or you could kill her, and be justified in doing so.

The beast purred that thought into the stream of his consciousness. But the cat only peered out at him with its shining emerald eyes. Its sleek sable body remained curled upon itself, paws tucked under. It teased him with the thought that echoed through his mind. Making him wonder if perhaps that wasn’t the better course.

London touched a hesitant finger to his cheek and drew it back. A smear of blood glistened on her fingertip. “A little worse for wear?”

The crimson glisten brought a wicked grin tugging at his lips. His body, and the beast, still hummed with the pleasure of violence. “Not mine.” Leaning closer, he debated stealing the blood from her lovely, tapered finger. But if he drew her flesh into his mouth, he’d surely bite her.

And wouldn’t that frighten her in such an amusing way?

Unable to resist a tempted grin, he inquired of London, “May I enter?” He shouldn’t have had to ask permission. Accepting her as his companion implied certain conventions. The first was that all she possessed became his. Thus, she had no private space to which he need ask permission to enter. But he allowed her this chance to invite him.

Backing away, she rubbed the blood between her forefinger and thumb. “Then whose blood is it?”

“A werewolf’s.” Lugh crossed the threshold. Shrugging out of his jacket and shoulder pack, he surveyed the space. Directly to his right a narrow hallway led to a bedroom and bathroom. Before him stretched a living room designed for comfort with deep cushioned furnishings and blond wood and glass tables. To the right of the living room opened a dining room that functioned like an office, with papers and machinery covering all the surfaces of the table. Tucked in behind the dining room, a small kitchen hummed with appliances. “Selena spoke of your vocation. You track misplaced persons and items?”

London followed him as he moved about, more interested in his casual inspection than in what he’d asked. “Yeah. Freelance work mostly.”

As she spoke, her arms crossed protectively over her chest, she watched him peruse the papers strewn about. Clearly, his curiosity caused the tense manner in which she clutched herself. Lugh understood why. Most of the parchments appeared to convey the largely mythical accounts of Lugh’s own supposed history. “Personal research?”

“Just educating myself.” London began stacking the papers, clearing the table. Hiding the evidence.

If she’d hoped to discover something consequential from such documents, she’d be disappointed. A rueful smile tugged up his lips. “And do you feel enlightened?”

“Not especially.” She deposited the pile onto the seat of one of the chairs. “There isn’t much accurate information about the fey floating around.” London tried to defuse the apparent focus of her inquires, but not cleverly enough to fool a Seelie. She’d been investigating him specifically, not the broader spectrum of the fey in general.

But Lugh allowed her to believe that he’d accept her redirection. “Nor would we wish it otherwise.”

Within him, the beast stirred. Stretching forth its paws, it debated about rising. The woman’s guile roused its attention, for this wasn’t the first time she’d attempted to deceive him.
You should kill her. Be done with her.

Ignoring the beast, Lugh slung his jacket over the back of one of the dining room chairs. His fingers brushed over the tears from the werewolf’s claws. Not so horribly damaging that the jacket couldn’t still be functional. From a pocket he extracted a small vile of clear liquid that contained another dose of the dark magic. He slipped it into the hip pocket of his jeans, keeping it closer on hand. Just having it near reassured him, as if it acted like a talisman against the encroaching Fade.

The shoulder pouch he rested upon a clean patch of table. He extracted the parchments from within. “It is the lack of accurate information that makes the work I shall tax you with a challenge. These are the only documents I have depicting known relics from the first realm of fey. Easily over ten millennia old. If they still exist, finding them is essential. Do you think your tracking skills might locate some of them?”

London shifted through the pages. “I can check with some of my contacts, but most won’t work cheap.”

On its feet now, the beast paced within him. Poisonous green eyes fixed on London. Impatient. Knowing its chance would come and watching for it.

Willing himself to focus equally on the conversation and self-control, Lugh stated, “Cost is not an obstacle.” From the satchel, he drew forth stacks of promissory notes wrapped in bundles.

“Holy…” London drew closer, within easy reach, as she stared at the notes in astonishment. “Where did you get all that?”

Lugh felt the cat’s muscles tense, coiling to pounce.

“Do you know what tribute is most commonly gifted to the god of the sun?” Lugh grew outwardly still as inwardly he raised a hand toward the beast, willing it to be calm. But controlling it and conducting a conversation divided his focus. “Gold. My temples runneth over. I know a dragon with allies who converts it into the common currency.”

“And you’re just going to run around toting a bag of money with you?” London flipped her thumb along the stacks of notes, as if confirming that they were all, indeed, genuine.

“Hardly. You are going to use it to see to the expenses, purchase supplies, and allot yourself a generous allowance.”

Within him, the beast glided its silken fur against his outstretched palm, stroking itself against him. And with the sensual caresses, their division blurred. The beast rose up within Lugh with a seductive fury that aroused him.

As he’d done with the cat, Lugh stretched out a hand to lightly caress down London’s short, dark locks.

Then, possessed by the dark corruption, he snatched her by her hair.

The beast surged within, and Lugh stayed its attack through sheer force of will. “No more freelance work. Particularly with wizards or Changelings.”

The fear glistening in London’s pretty dark eyes made him hard. “So Kev told you?”

Twisting his wrist, the beast forced London to angle her head away. To expose her pale, vulnerable throat to him. “What he did not tell me, I suspected.”

Bite her. Tear open her throat.

Lugh stared, so tempted his mouth watered for the taste of her blood.

Between what the wood elf revealed to him and what Lugh had overheard at the vampire club, he knew the taint of London’s past. This woman who once fancied herself the ‘huntress of the Sidhe.’ Cohort to vampires and werewolves. Servant to wizards and predatory fey.

Kill her!

And Lugh struggled to recall why he shouldn’t.

Chapter Three

Lips parting, Lugh sucked in a breath through his teeth. The beast craved to close the distance. To wrap his jaws around the muscle of her neck. To bite down with force enough to rip open her throat and free the spurt of blood.

If he’d not have serviced that need just an hour earlier with Selena, the knife-edge of that urge couldn’t have been countered. But he’d bitten the vampire as much as she’d bitten him. He’d sunk his teeth into her flesh and made love smeared in their mingled blood. He could still detect the scent of blood and sex lingering on his skin.

And this human…

What was her name again? It slipped his mind. Like it mattered not.

But it did matter.

Lugh reached beyond the haze of animal desire into memory.

London. Her name was London.

And Selena valued her.

The vampire had sworn him to protect London from the Unseelie.

If Lugh meant to skate this slim edge between the Seelie he was and the dark force rising within him, he’d need her. The vampire gave him an outlet. A place where his combined lusts for blood and violence and sex could find welcome release. She’d not deny him, nor was she too fragile to endure. A guiltless indulgence. Where he could fancy himself still in control.

Still a Seelie.

And rending this woman whom he’d accepted as his companion wasn’t Seelie.

Lugh’s grip relaxed. “But all that happened before.”

Breathing deep, he cast aside the violent craving. “When you were without guidance.”

The beast retreated, slinking away into the shadows of his mind where it would once more bide its time. “When you did not understand your need or the consequences of your actions.”

He released her hair. “By becoming my druidess, you shall be remade, with a new life and a fresh start.” Forcing a smile far more relaxed than he felt, Lugh stroked her hair one final time, soothing the hurt he’d caused, before drawing back his hand. “But, I require complete devotion and dedication from my druids, if you are still seeking to pledge yourself to me.”