Scorched Fury: A SkinWalker Novel #5 (DarkWorld: SkinWalker) (6 page)

"Kai, that could work both ways. It could very well be that as a Metal Fae, Tara was just able to track the life of the metal by tapping into her Fae Ethereal power."

I nodded, a thrill of excitement rippling through me. "I have a couple of knives that Tara made." I leaned over and rummaged inside my satchel, retrieving a wide-bladed, curved knife. I handed it over to Mel, handle out. Safety first.

"Good. This should work." Mel took the knife and turned it over, studying the finely-honed edge. "Impeccable workmanship. So smooth."

I grinned proudly. Mel knew, like me, that Tara used her fingers. Her body emitted a power which she used to melt metal with a touch of her fingers.

"Incredible," said Mel, her voice soft as she studied the weapon. Then she turned it over, now all business as she prepared to track Tara.

I settled back to wait, but within seconds of closing her eyes, Mel stiffened, her spine going rigid. She took a ragged, shallow breath. "I see her." She paused for a few seconds. "She's alive and well, although she appears to be stressed."

"Where?"

"A house. A brownstone."

"Can you see a street name? A house number?" I was afraid that Mel would shut me up, but I couldn't help throwing my questions at her.

She seemed unaffected. "Outside the window...the house across the street is 1270. I can't see a street name."

"Anything else significant?"
 

"There's a magnolia tree right outside the window. Nothing in the room that could tell me where she is. And she's alone."

So Mel couldn't overhear anything in a conversation.

"It's ok. I'll project and have a look outside, get us a street name. Be back in a jiffy."

Mel went still and silent, and I scooted forward on my seat, watching her intently.
 

I knew already that bad things sometimes happened to jumpers. Samuel, Mel's friend and mentor was a perfect example. All he did these days was sit and stare off into space. A man, once the most powerful teleporter in the world, now reduced to a catatonic state, caught in an unknown place while he'd projected to help someone. Until now, Mel had been unable to help him get home.

Said a lot for my chances of being any help if she got herself in trouble.

But my concern was unwarranted. Seconds later, Mel took a shuddering breath and opened her eyes. "You going to fly out to Boston or do you need a ride?"

"Boston?" I laughed. "A ride would be lovely, thanks."

CHAPTER 7

M
Y
STOMACH
TREMBLED
AS
WE
MATERIALIZED
in a Boston street, shielded by the shadows that accompanied Mel when she burst forth from the Veil. I was grateful for them. Appearing suddenly on a residential street would draw suspicious witnesses, or the unwanted attention of the authorities.

But the shadows enveloped us, red smoke that, though it contrasted with our drab fall surroundings, was filled with glamor to make it, and us, invisible. We stood alone on the leaf-strewn sidewalk, hemmed in by the endearingly cobbled street on one side and a row of gorgeous triple-level brownstones on the other. Historical residences that would prove attractive even to the most ardent haters of modern duplex living. Even I would adore such a home, despite knowing I was mere inches from my neighbors at any given moment.

I took a slow step toward the stairs, fingers trailing the wrought iron banister, when I sensed Mel hesitate behind me. Looking over my shoulder, I frowned as she fidgeted, throwing her hair out of her eyes with jittery fingers.

"What's wrong?"

She jerked her head, a ragged excuse for a shake. "Nothing. I just thought that maybe you'd want to be alone with Tara?"

My turn to hesitate. "Maybe. But not for too long." I scanned the street, wary still of curious passers-by. "Is there somewhere you could hide safely and project into the room?"

"You don't need your privacy?" She seemed confused.

I laughed. "Tara is my best friend, not my lover." 

After a moment, she shrugged as if having both in the same person wasn't a problem. I accepted that she was just respecting our boundaries and I sighed. "Of course, you may be right about privacy. Tara may not want our discussion overheard, but you and I are here on an important errand. It's not personal and I hardly think she'd mind you listening in."

Mel nodded, although the look in her eyes was uncertain. I ignored it and hurried up the stairs. With one last glance at Mel, I knocked on the door, grimacing at the fist-sized head of a lion, it's giant canines biting onto a brass knocker.

The door opened a few seconds later and a woman, who bore a striking resemblance to Gracie, stared at me. She was wraith-thin, her large glassy blue eyes watery as they reflected light from every angle. Her glamor was ragged, lacking the elegance with which Tara drew hers. And the slim, thorn-riddled branch around her neck confirmed my suspicion.

A Fae slave.

"May I help you?" she asked. Her tone held a hint of annoyance that I dared disturb her by knocking. Odd in the demeanor of a slave, but then Fae slaves were known for enjoying their enslavement.

I ignored her tone and nodded, forcing my lips to rise in a smile. Probably looked maniacal, but I couldn't do anything about it. "I'm here to speak with Tara."

The Gracie-doppelganger's eyebrows rose a few inches. Her cheeks flushed and as she swallowed a thorn sank into the curve of her neck, drawing blood. I forced myself not to stare as the blood pooled and dribbled into the neck of her linen shift.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean." Her eyes scanned me from head to toe and I wondered if she knew she spoke to a shifter, or if she thought I was a human who didn't deserve even a lowly Fae slave's time.

"Look. Let's not waste each other's time. I'm a friend of Tara's." Again the woman flushed, her cheeks reddening as I mentioned my friend's name. Still, she didn't budge. Losing patience, I said, "I'm here on Supreme High Council business and it's of utmost importance that I speak to her immediately."

I didn't usually pull rank but the servant's haughtiness had begun to grate on my nerves.
 

At the mention of the Supreme High Council the Gracie-duplicate took a step back, gave a hesitant nod. "I can bring Mr Dawson down to have a word with you."

I gritted my teeth, breathing slowly through them. "I'm not here to speak to Mr Dawson." I spoke sharply, annoyed that although she was moved to action, she was still ignoring my request. "I'm here to speak to Tara and I need to waste as little time as possible. Please could you let her know I'm here."

The woman stilled, then straightened, a cool smile on her lips. "And who exactly are you?" Again her tone was dismissive, as if she spoke to a human.
 

"I'm Kailin Odel. Tara knows me."

One eyebrow rose.
As if.

I didn't react, just waited on the threshold as the woman turned and disappeared into the front room on the right of the small hall. Footsteps hurried toward me and Tara appeared, flying from the room and enveloping me in a giant hug.

Gracie 2.0 stared from the threshold, shocked and wide-eyed at our physical contact.

I hugged Tara back.
 

Okay. Hopefully this means I won't be kicked out on my ass.

Then she grabbed me by the upper arms and shook me hard. "What the hell are you doing here?" Her tone was harsh and urgent.

I patted her hand gently, as if tempering a wild animal. "I'm sorry to have to do this, but we need to talk. It's extremely important. Otherwise I would never have intruded on your privacy."

Tara's features softened. Her skin was even paler than normal and as she relaxed her markings surfaced, dark, shimmering and moving lazily on her skin like living things.

The servant gasped as she stared first at the swirling tattoos, then at me. When her gaze returned to Tara's face, the disapproval was clear.

Tara sighed. "Stop being so dramatic, Ani. Kai is a dear friend and she's seen my markings too many times for it to affect her."

"You showed her your markings?" The girl herself seemed horrified, first at Tara's daring, and second that
she'd
 had the audacity to question her own princess.

Tara's stern look admonished the girl, the darkness in her eyes deepening to match her ebony hair. Then her expression softened and she sighed. "Yes, Ani. We're best friends. As close as sisters."

The girl sucked in a soft gasp. It seemed everything was shocking to her and I hoped the reaction wasn't a regular occurrence.
 

Tara looped an arm into mine and drew me into the front room. Over her shoulder she called for something to drink, then said, "You must excuse Ani. She's not used to meeting non-Fae, least of all one that is a confessed, on-hugging-terms bestie of the Queen."

The Queen?

My turn to stifle a gasp. "Crap. Is that why she was so shocked? I didn't bow or scrape or anything."

Tara laughed softly and pulled me onto a white and gold striped loveseat, its curved legs gleaming with gold leaf. "You are forbidden to ever do such a thing with me."

I shook my head, face serious. "No way. I give kowtowing where it's due." I grinned and then sighed. "I'm sorry again. I never would have disturbed you if it wasn't important."

"How did you find me?" Tara tilted her head and studied my face, genuinely curious, yet the tiniest bit disapproving. I had, after all, broken the rules.

"Mel helped me track you."

Tara nodded, her eyes now shining with amusement. "And it took you this long to come see me?"

Hesitating now, I frowned then shook my head. "Yes, I could have asked Mel to track you weeks ago. And no, I didn't. I respected your privacy, Tara."

"And now you don't anymore?" she asked, her expression neutral.

My heart thudded. Was she angry with the intrusion? "No. I still do. I'll be gone as soon as we've finished speaking. You must know that this is important. It's not personal at all."

Tara made a face. She actually looked disappointed and I wondered if I'd said the wrong thing.

I lifted my hand. "Not that I didn't want to see you. I-"

Tara laughed softly. "Stop it, silly. I'm not upset. And I knew you'd respect my need to be left alone. And I also know that this, whatever it is, has to be important or you wouldn't have come."

She sat back and crossed her legs and only then did I register her dress. Deep green flecked with shimmering lime, it looked like wild moss, only woven into a floor-length dress that would be right at home at a ball or on a runway.

At her neck she wore a string of shimmering crystals, each glittering with every shade of green, which for all I knew were rare gems. Garb fit for a Fae Queen.

I cleared my throat. "The Chicago Ash Tree is dying and we need your help."

Tara's pale skin whitened as the blood drained from her face, bringing her swirling tattoos into stark contrast. "What did you say?" Her voice brimmed over with shock.

Not the kind of shock one experiences on hearing something the first time. No, rather the expression on her face indicated that she'd heard about the dying Ash before.
 

I leaned closer. "The Ash." She looked upset.

"You know?"

Tara's shoulders drooped. "Yes, and no."

I cleared my throat as the silence dragged on. I seriously didn't have time to waste enjoying deep silences and I had to shrug off the urge to shake her by the shoulders and insist on an answer. But one did not shake royalty, even bestie royalty.

Tara shook her head. It was obvious something weighed her down. "Sorry. Yes, I know about the Ash Tree being sick, and no, I didn't know about your Ash Tree."

"
Our
Ash?" My eyes widened. "Crap. Don't tell me the Boston Ash is sick too?"

Tara nodded. "It's the reason I was called to Boston so suddenly. The Ash is vital to the Fae and signs of its affliction was enough to gather the troops."

"Have you been able to figure out what's wrong with it?"

Tara shook her head. "I've had my people investigating, but they haven't uncovered any definitive reason."

I stiffened, scowling.

"What?" asked Tara, watching my face now. She tilted her head. "What do you know?"

"Something you should know by now if you've been researching the tree's illness."

Before Tara could answer, someone swept into the room, bringing with him a touch of winter.

Tara's gaze shifted to the newcomer then glanced at me giving him a regal introductory wave. "Kai, meet Elan."

He was tall, his body well-muscled despite his slim figure. He wore an ice-white silk suit, probably something Italian from the looks of it. And his attire contrasted with Tara's gift-of-nature gown. His ice blue hair gleamed, shot with white, and he pulled off the dual tone in a very attractive way.

Attractive probably because of the glamor he wore. The silver of it glittered on his cheekbones, dusting his shoulders and hugging him like a silken shroud. Beneath the glamor, his cheeks were grey, hollow with age, eyes deep and ancient. A dangerous creature to be sure.