The Crossing (Immortals) (17 page)

Her words evaporated in her throat. Her lips felt thick;
they refused to move, as if they were... sealed shut? Her
horrified gaze met Niniane's satisfied one.

"That's right. No more disobedience. No more death
spells. You'll not speak again until I give you permission."

Artemis swallowed thickly. All right. She wasn't completely defenseless-she could cast life magic mentally.
She assembled a charm in her mind... only to have it unravel before it was well formed enough to cast.

Niniane sighed. "You're a stubborn one, aren't you? But
stupid. I'm the Queen of Annwyn! No life magic you
could call will help you escape."

She was right. Artemis was truly powerless. But she had
to get away. She had to. She'd missed her sunset rendezvous
with Malachi-no doubt the demon was furious with her.
When she finally managed to reach him, she'd have some
serious groveling to do. Groveling and worse.

Her mind blanked as Niniane forced her down the dark
stair. Green elflight twinkled to life, illuminating a damp,
dark, tunnel. Roots hung from the ceiling, brushing her
face. She sneezed violently-once, twice, soundlessly. Her
eyes burned. With her hands bound behind her, she
couldn't even wipe them.

Niniane propelled her forward, unrelenting. "You
stepped into the wrong arena, love, when you set your
sights on my son. Mac may be reluctant to serve up
your punishment, but you'll find I am not."

She steered Artemis into a steeply sloping side passage.
Fifty paces later, the passageway reached a dead end in
front of a tall, ancient doorway.

The door's frame was an arch of shining silver-gray
granite, intricately decorated with a Celtic knot pattern. The door itself was oak, hewn from a single slab of that
sacred wood. Its surface bore carvings of Sidhe men and
women, slender and tall, dancing with arms entwined.

The portal glowed with an ethereal light. Niniane lifted
her palm, and the slab swung inward. Bright white light
shot pain into Artemis's eyes. She squeezed them shut as
the Sidhe queen shoved her over the threshold.

A shiver of dread chased down her spine.

Niniane laughed. "Welcome to the Sidhe Council chamber, witch."

Why the hell should he feel sorry for her?

The answer was, of course, that he shouldn't feel a drop
of pity. The witch wasn't worth it. She'd cast death magic
over him while he worshipped her body, intent on giving
her nothing but bliss. She'd virtually raped a piece of his
soul, blasted through the wards on his estate gate, and, if
he'd read her magical signature at the cairns correctly,
she'd been a breath away from tearing open a portal to a
demon realm when Niniane caught up with her.

And how the hell had that come about, anyway? He
dragged both hands through his hair. His mother must
have spies everywhere. How much did Niniane know?
He'd tracked the two women to the barrows. Niniane was
definitely taking Artemis to the Sidhe Council.

Did his mother know Artemis had attacked the faeries?
Did she know the witch was a talented sorceress trafficking
life essence to demons? If not for the likelihood Artemis
was carrying his child, Mac might be tempted to leave the
infuriating witch in Niniane's clutches.

Niniane, who had abandoned her own half-human infant, would be beyond appalled if she discovered someone
like Artemis was pregnant with her grandchild. No doubt
she would sentence Artemis to death all the more quickly
because of it. The all-too-real scenario caused Mac's chest
to contract so violently it was difficult to breathe.

He dashed through the maze of tunnels, eyes fixed on
the glowing trail at his feet. He only hoped he wasn't too
far behind. Damn Artemis for splitting the tracking spell
he'd put on her. He'd lost an hour of precious time tracking mundanes.

Despite the fact that Artemis had lied to him, had used
him in the basest way-had, in fact, ignited his fury to the
boiling point all Mac could think of was getting to her in
time to save her from the Sidhe council's judgment. Despite Artemis's disturbing affinity for death magic, and his
certainty she was dealing with a demon, he couldn't bear
to see her hurt. Child or no.

He was a bloody idiot. Clearly the battle to save Tain
had done grave injury to Mac's intelligence and common
sense as well as to his soul.

He didn't even pause before the closed door to the
Sidhe Council chamber. Shoving the door open, he burst
into the room, blinking against its sudden dazzling light.

Eight alabaster columns supported the chamber's skyblue dome above. Artemis stood atop a platform set in the
center of the chamber. Her head jerked up as the door
crashed against the wall. Something like hope flashed in
her eyes. He suppressed the urge to dash to her side. It
wouldn't do. She stood upon the platform of the accused.
By Sidhe law, no one could stand with her.

Her hands were bound behind her and her lips were
pressed firmly together-sealed shut, he had no doubt.
Niniane didn't appreciate back talk.

He swung his gaze to his mother, who stood before her
councillor's throne-one of seven bejeweled chairs set in
the spaces between the columns. Her lips were pursed
with displeasure at his sudden appearance.

Conflicting emotions warred in Mac's chest. He hadn't
spoken more than a dozen words to his mother in over a
year-since the day he'd told her an Old One had hauled
her only daughter through a portal to a demon realm. Mac didn't know why he'd expected to see a glimmer of regret
when Niniane learned of Leanna's fate. But he had expected it, and it hadn't surfaced. Now, even though Mac
cared for his mother, and knew she felt his withdrawal
keenly, he could hardly bring himself to look at her.

"Manannan. Whatever are you doing here? Your presence isn't needed."

Mac crossed his arms and popped his shoulder against
one of the columns. "I disagree. This woman is my responsibility. I have no doubt that you know that."

Niniane's hand fluttered. "She was not in your custody
when I apprehended her. I've already summoned the Council. We will examine the criminal-a criminal, I might add,
you should have brought to us a day ago-and issue a verdict. You will have nothing to do with the proceedings."

"We'll see about that."

Niniane huffed. A bell rang, and Artemis stiffened. A
door directly opposite the one Mac had entered opened.
This second portal led directly to the Celtic Otherworld
and opened only for members of the Sidhe Council, the
elders charged with deliberating human crimes against
Celtic magical creatures.

One by one, the councillors entered, bowing to their
queen as they passed. Mac eyed each in turn. The wrinkled face of Saraid, the most ancient of Sidhe, reflected
the passing of a half dozen millennia. Even so, her blue
eyes were bright as a child's and the points of her ears did
not droop in the slightest. Her twisted yew staff rang
against the chamber's stone floor, marking each slow step.

Behind Saraid strode her son, Briac, dark and somber,
nearly as ancient as his mother. The ermine trim on his
robe trailed sparks. Behind Briac glided three telepathic
sisters-they'd been born triplets, an exceedingly rare
and fortuitous event in Sidhe history. Lustrous red curls
cascaded like liquid flame down their backs. Enid, Enys,
and Erlina-Mac had the damnedest time telling them apart-were renowned for centuries of fair judgments in
Sidhe/human disputes.

Tadc was the last of the councillors to enter, his waistlength blond hair gathered in a queue so tight it had to cause
his scalp to ache. Of all the councillors, Tadc's contempt for
the human race was surpassed only by Niniane's.

The Sidhe did not so much as glance at the accused.
Pacing to their thrones, they remained standing until
Niniane's regal nod gave them permission to be seated.

Seating herself, Niniane gave her skirt a final brush of
her hand. "The trial may begin."

Tadc was the first to rise. His pinched eyes looked
Artemis up and down. "What is this creature?"

Mac uncrossed his arms and stepped forward. "She's a
witch."

Tadc raised a brow. "Human?"

"Mostly."

Niniane regarded her son steadily. "Manannan apprehended her a day ago. He should have brought her directly
to us. He did not." She sighed. "You're always too soft
where humans are concerned, Mackie."

Mac's cheeks heated. Niniane knew he hated that childhood nickname, but she continued to use it as a way of
keeping some small power over him. It galled him he
couldn't help cringing every time he heard it.

"What I don't understand," Mac said slowly, "is how
you came to know of her."

A small smile played on Niniane's lips. "Why, your paparazzi, of course."

Mac stared at her. "You've been in contact with my
fans? My human fans? I don't bloody believe it."

Niniane hated humans. He couldn't fathom she'd stoop
so low as to make an alliance with one of them. But it
made sense. Pieces to a nagging puzzle fell into place. His
unraveled glamours. The uncanny accuracy of his fan blog. The speed with which the fangirls tracked him. Of
course Niniane had helped them. And they, in turn, had
helped her.

"That underfed photographer is especially handy,"
Niniane was saying. "If not for him, I'd hardly know what
you were up to anymore." Her lips thinned as she turned a
disgusted eye on Artemis. "But really, Mackie, don't you
think you've gone too far this time? Consorting with a
death witch? What could you have been thinking?"

"A death witch?" Enid cut in. Or perhaps it was Enys.
"What is her crime?"

"She's cast death magic against Celtic creatures," Niniane stated. "She siphoned life essence from faeries. I've spoken with dozens of victims since I learned of the attacks.
Apparently, since the summer solstice, many, many villages
have succumbed to this witch's dark arts."

A shocked murmur swept around the circle. The councillors muttered and shook their heads. Briac regarded
Artemis as if she were a particularly disgusting species
of slug.

"Deaths?" Saraid's voice was colder than the North Sea.

"None," Niniane admitted. "The amounts stolen were
relatively small."

"So as not to draw undue attention to her crime," Tadc
murmured. "Clever for a human."

Mac shifted on his feet. "In at least one instance," he interjected, "the accused returned the stolen life essence
when it became clear her attack had endangered the life of
a young one. The child recovered fully."

Niniane waved a hand. "A minor point. Clearly, the
witch is guilty. I propose a death sentence."

Alarm widened Artemis's eyes. She shook her head, her
throat bulging. She stumbled forward a step, in Niniane's
direction, teetering at the edge of the platform.

Niniane leaped to her feet, elfshot bursting from her fingers. The bolt hit Artemis. She bent double, staggering
back to the center of the platform. Her lips worked, but
couldn't part far enough to let out a cry of pain.

Damn it all to hell. Bugger Sidhe law. Mac surged toward the platform. Sariad's reedy voice drew him up short.

"Take care, Mac Lit, that you do not do something you
will regret."

Mac barely restrained himself from leaping onto the
platform. Saraid was right; breaking Sidhe protocol would
hardly help Artemis's cause. He settled for inserting his
body between Niniane and Artemis. "Assaulting a prisoner? That's beneath you, Mother. And as for this witch's
punishment death is not an option. Nor is slavery in Annwyn. I will not allow either sentence."

Niniane's fair brows rose to her hairline. "Why? Just
because you've had sex with this whore?"

Mac's jaw clenched, sending a sharp pain into his temple. "No. Because this witch hasn't caused any lasting
harm to anyone. She doesn't deserve to die."

"You're a grave disappointment to me, Manannan.
Slumming with a death witch. Really! When are you going
to stop your irresponsible darting about the human world,
playing that obnoxious noise you call music, shirking your
responsibilities to your own people-"

Mac's fingers curled into fists. "I have not shirked my
responsibilities."

"No? Then tell me how this witch has been able to assault so many faeries. Because you were not here to protect
them, perhaps? You were flitting around Europe. Asia. Australia. The Americas. If you'd stayed in Annwyn-or even
in Scotland-where you belong, it would not have happened."

Mac was in no mood to face the truth of that. The elders eyed him; his face burned. "Where I go and what I do
is none of your business, Mother."

Niniane pointed her slender finger and shook it. "When will you learn, Mac? The Prince of Annwyn must rule
from Annwyn."

"Mother." Mac's teeth clenched so tightly pain radiated
into his jaw and down his neck. "Can we please return to
the subject at hand? The trial of this human?"