The Iron Witch (9 page)

And it was very, very real.

The clouds chose
that
moment to part. The waxing moon shone down and its light flashed on the tattoos winding along the back of Donna’s hand. Her flesh was barely visible through the silvery patterns that were stamped permanently into it. Xan was too busy to notice anything at the moment, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t find out the truth the moment she grabbed the wood elf.

Well
,
there were worse things.
One of them would be seeing Xan hurt by the creature, and she wasn’t going to let that happen.

The elf’s black eyes flickered in her direction as Donna approached, but it was too late for it to stop her and she was already on top of it. She gripped its spindly arm and gritted her teeth against the pain that settled into the bones of her fingers.

As the pure iron in her hands made contact with the fey flesh of the dark elf, smoke belched from the twiggy surface of its shoulder and the creature howled with inhuman fury. It released Xan and tried to bat Donna away with its free hand. She dodged out of reach—just in time—but kept hold of the elf and pulled it farther away from Xan. She tried not to think about the smell of burning wood. Her eyes watered as the smoke filled the air, and her alarm grew as she saw how high the curling cloud had already risen.
Crap
. Lighting bonfires on Ironbridge Common was illegal, and the last thing they needed was a park warden turning up to see what was going on.

Xan stumbled to his feet, brushing himself off and staring at Donna with amazement. Not horror, she was relieved to note, but something more like admiration. And something else, too, but she couldn’t quite place what it was. She wasn’t sure if it was good or bad, but his eyes flashed viridian-bright in the darkness as he watched her grapple with the screeching elf.

Before she could think about it further, the creature got its other hand around her forearm—still covered by the thick wool of her coat—and tried to free itself.

Xan was suddenly there, too, and the thing didn’t stand a chance after that. They got it pressed against a narrow tree trunk between them, and Xan whipped off his long black coat and threw it over the elf’s head.

Donna wondered if Xan was still seeing a homeless guy, but she doubted the elfskin had held once she’d gotten hold of the creature with the full force of her iron-clad hands. She wondered how Xan was coping with the revelation that monsters existed; was this the second time she was going to have to explain all of this craziness to a friend?

And yet … Xan hadn’t exactly looked shocked.

Just as Donna thought it was over, with the elf subdued beneath Xan’s coat and Xan sitting on top of it while Donna pulled her glove back on with shaking hands, the elf somehow wriggled free and leapt to its feet.
Damn,
t
hose things were slippery
.

The coat was now hampering Xan more than the elf—he couldn’t get hold of the creature before it bolted into the nearest gap between two saplings. The coat caught on a branch, and the wood elf was off and running.

However, Xan—as well as being incredibly agile and undaunted by an inhuman opponent—was
fast
. He dashed after the fleeing wood elf, leaving Donna to wait, her heart pushing its way into her throat with each passing moment. She wondered if she should follow them, but she was pretty certain she wouldn’t be able to keep up. And maybe she’d get lost, and then she might not find Xan at all. Biting her lip and rubbing her arms to keep warm, she was just beginning to doubt her decision to stay put when Xan’s bright hair appeared from a different place in the small patch of trees.

He didn’t seem particularly out of breath, but his cheeks were flushed, probably more from the cold than from exertion. They looked at each other across the short distance that separated them.

What did it all mean? Donna fought down panic and tried to think of the best way to approach this—should she admit to knowing what the creature was?

Xan broke eye contact first and collected his coat from the shrubs. He dusted it off and shrugged it back on, running both hands through his hair as he looked at the ground for a long moment.

“Xan—” she said.

“Donna—”

They both stopped.

Xan walked toward her. “Ladies first.”

She frowned. “What happened to … you know … ”

“Oh, you mean the
elf
?” His voice was filled with loathing, but she was pretty certain it wasn’t directed at her. She somehow knew that the clear note of disgust was aimed solely at the elves.

Okay, so he knew what the creature was.
Alexander Grayson knew what a freaking wood elf was
. And this evening was now officially weirder than ever. Not knowing what to say, Donna kept her mouth shut and just watched him. She hardly knew Xan, but something connected them. She had a horrible feeling that she was going to find out what it was, sooner rather than later.

Xan suddenly stumbled, pain flashing across his face as he clutched his ribs. Her heart pounding, Donna ran to his side and hovered there, unsure whether or not she should touch him.

“What happened?” she asked, feeling useless as he winced and bent over, breathing hard.

He held out a hand. “Don’t,” he said, strain making his voice weak. “It’s nothing.”

“Nothing?”
She was suddenly angry. At the party he had seemed so keen to get close to her, and now he was holding her at arm’s length. Literally. “You’re hurt, let me see—”

Xan knocked her hand away. “I said, it’s nothing. That thing bit me before it escaped. I almost had it.”

At least he could stand straight again, and Donna realized that the anger she’d heard in his voice was born not just of pain, but of frustration—disappointment that the creature had gotten away.

“It
bit
you?” She tried to pull open his coat to see. “Where? Oh Xan, those things are vicious … ”

“Yeah,” he replied, stepping out of her reach. “And you seem to know a
lot
about them.”

Donna chewed on her lip. She was worried about Xan—about how badly hurt he might be—but she was also terrified about revealing too much of herself. It seemed like someone had declared open season on her most carefully guarded secrets, and she didn’t like it.

She didn’t like it one bit.

“Listen.” She raised her chin and looked Xan fiercely in the eye. “Yes, I know things about them—but so do you. And
you’re
the one who said we had stuff to talk about. That’s why we’re out here in the first place.”

“So let’s talk.” It sounded like a challenge.

“I’m not talking about this stuff out here—no way.”

“There’s nobody to hear us, Donna.” Xan gestured around them at the empty trees and the deserted pathway.

Donna swallowed, feeling suddenly very alone. She wished that Navin was here, which was pretty dumb considering how hard she’d tried to protect him from all the craziness. “I’m cold and I’m scared, Xan. I don’t want to talk here.”

He winced again, touching his ribs as though gingerly testing them. “Sorry, you’re right. I’m being a jerk. Let’s go to my place.”

She only hesitated for a moment. “As long as you let me see where it hurt you.”

A lopsided smile replaced the pained expression on his face. “You just want to see me with my shirt off.”

Donna felt her cheeks flush. “You wish. Come on, let’s get moving.”

She turned away from him and headed back to the path, trying to pretend she couldn’t hear the soft laughter behind her.

As they turned onto the wide residential street lined with oak trees and townhouses, the hair on the back of Donna’s neck prickled. She glanced behind them, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. She tried to shake the feeling that someone was following them, but found herself turning around every so often, trying to catch a glimpse of a pursuing shadow.

It was no wonder she’d gotten so paranoid—now she had
proof
that there were wood elves sneaking around the city (not that the one on the Common had been doing much sneaking). It had been such a long time since the dark fey last entered Ironbridge; they must have their reasons, but Donna wasn’t certain she wanted to know about them.

She shivered in the evening air.

“We’re here,” Xan said, stopping halfway up the street.

They stood in front of the familiar three-story house, almost identical to its neighbors except for the bright window shutters. Donna couldn’t tell what color they were in the shadow-strewn lamplight, but they looked like they might be crimson. The place seemed different, somehow, from the way it had looked on Saturday night. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but it was something to do with the fact that back then, she’d been with Navin and, no matter how much she’d protested going to the stupid party in the first place, there had been an element of adventure about the whole event.

But this time? This time things were very different, and this was certainly no adventure.

Xan walked up the three stone steps and took a bunch of keys out of his jeans pocket. “Well, come on then.”

Donna took a deep breath, realizing that she’d been staring at the windows. She was still on the sidewalk, and Xan was holding open the front door.

“Sorry,” she said. “I was just trying to figure out how to get the lid back on.” The image of Pandora’s Box had come to mind—there was no getting away from it now, and not just with Navin. It seemed she was being forced to let people into her life, no matter what the Order of the Dragon wanted.

His face twisted with confusion. “Um … what lid?”

She smiled and shook her head. “Nothing, forget it.”

Xan was still frowning at her as she walked past him and into the house.

“There.” Donna put the finishing touches on the medical dressing. “All finished.”

Xan raised an eyebrow. “Not bad. First time?”

Dammit
, she thought. A
nother guy in her life who could do that eyebrow thing
. She willed herself not to blush and, for once, managed to stay composed. Xan really was very good looking, with cheekbones a model would kill for. Just sitting this close to him—on his
bed
—made her skin vibrate.

They were in Xan’s bedroom again; he’d said the medical supplies were in the upstairs bathroom, and Donna had chosen to believe him. She didn’t think he was just trying to lure her back to his room, not when he was bleeding all over the place. She’d refused to talk about elves and insisted on seeing his injury before anything else. Not that she was a first aid expert, but she at least knew
something
about the sort of damage the creatures could inflict.

Donna had tried really hard not to think about how toned Xan’s chest was while examining the imprint of the elf’s jagged teeth. This wasn’t the time to act like a teenager.
But I am a teenager
, she’d wanted to shout. It was so unfair—why did these things have to happen? Why couldn’t she just have a normal life? And then she immediately felt angry with herself for the blast of self-pity. She was determined to accept whatever life had to throw at her.

Of course, despite her good intentions, she didn’t always succeed.

Xan had lifted up his gray button-down shirt so she could get to the cuts along the ribs on his left side. There was already a livid bruise against his golden skin, but the flesh had only been broken in a couple places.

As she packed the bandages away, Donna’s mind immediately turned to what came next. Did they have to have the Big Talk? Something had brought this beautiful guy into her life, and she was both terrified and excited to find out why.

“Donna, look at me.” There was that thread of vulnerability in Xan’s voice again. “I have to show you something. It … might be easier than just talking. You want to understand how I know about those things, right? Know about the fey?”

When she didn’t reply, he stepped in front of the bedroom door and began unbuttoning his shirt.

“What are you doing?” Donna heard how thin and breathless her voice sounded. “We already dealt with the wound.”

“Oh, come
on
.” He let out a frustrated breath. “What the hell do you take me for?”

She laughed, nervously. “Sorry.”

“Just let me do this.” Xan continued to work on the buttons, his eyes fixed on hers. It was intense and weird, and she wondered if she should feel more afraid.

“Wait a minute,” she said finally. “I think we’re having a misunderstanding here … ”

“Shut up, will you? Trust me.” His tone made her stop. What was it about this guy that made her
want
to trust him?

Xan’s fingers looked steady as he got to the top button of the shirt. He turned to face the door, so that his back was toward her, and allowed the shirt to slide off his shoulders and fall softly to the floor.

The skin on his back was as smooth and golden as it was on his chest. He was broad-shouldered, and his muscles were lean and sculpted. His waist tapered neatly to the top of his jeans.

But it was none of this that held Donna’s attention. None of this that made her gasp with shock and a strange sort of recognition.

Above Xan’s shoulder blades lay two livid scars, several inches long, covered with bumpy scar tissue. White, pink, and magenta. The palette of colors told the old and painful story of a gradual healing process. The scars stood out starkly against the warm tone of his skin.

With one hand to her mouth, Donna stepped forward despite her horror. She had to
see
. If he was going to trust her—someone he hardly even
knew
—with this, she could at least show the respect such a revelation deserved. She stood within touching distance, wanting desperately to reach out to Xan in that moment. Her hand wavered, then settled back against her fluttering belly.

Up close, she could see twisted ropes of scar tissue deep beneath his flesh, not just across the surface. Whatever it was that had happened must have hurt like hell. It was unimaginable.
Well, maybe not unimaginable
… She felt a sympathetic twinge in her hands and arms as she craned her neck in the dim light to examine the badly healed wounds. Sadness tightened her throat at the thought that
his
healing had come with such terrible scars. It made her feel a rush of gratitude toward Maker, for the care she’d received after her own terrible injuries.

Releasing a painful breath, Donna brought her attention back to the room. Back to Xan.

“What happened?” Her voice was low but steady.

“I think you already know.” Xan’s voice was muffled, his back a painful map of loss and history.

Shaking her head, even though she knew he couldn’t see her, Donna tried to reply. “No, I don’t know. I
don’t
.”

“It’s where they tore out my wings.”

“Wings,” she echoed, faintly.

Xan turned to face her, turning those dreadful scars away so she no longer had to look at them. He bent down to pick up the discarded shirt and hastily shrugged his way back into it, leaving it unbuttoned.

She stood there for a moment, motionless, allowing herself to breathe slowly and evenly.
Be calm
, she told herself.
You can be calm in the face of this
.

Another thought came to her:
Isn’t it interesting that I don’t doubt him? Not for a second
. She could thank her twisted upbringing for that.

“You’re not saying much,” Xan said, all traces of his earlier confidence wiped from his face. There was a deep frown-line between his brows, and his eyes looked heavy and tired. Shadows danced on the planes of his cheeks and the dip of his throat.

“I don’t know what to say.” Donna gestured with one gloved hand, trying to find the right words. “I don’t understand why you’re showing me this. Xan, your
back
—”

Xan shrugged. “I’m used to it now.”

Donna felt a pain in her chest, one that almost matched the ache in the bones of her hands and arms. “No you’re not,” she said. “How can you ever be? Nobody could get used to that.”

“How can
you
know that?”

“Because I’m speaking from experience.”

And Donna did the thing she’d never imagined that she would do. She swallowed, then carefully and slowly peeled off her long velvet gloves, feeling not unlike a burlesque act. Except an experienced burlesque dancer’s hands wouldn’t be shaking as much as hers were right now. She tossed her hair back and tried to meet Xan’s eyes as she held both hands out, palms down, in front of her.

It was one of the hardest things she had ever done.

From mid-forearm to the tips of her fingers, Donna’s arms and hands were covered with swirling silver artwork. It was as if a tattoo artist had created a spectacular silver pigment and used it to ink her arms in intricate whorls and curves; curls that extended down to her wrists, and then across the backs of her hands and down each finger. If you looked quickly, there was the illusion that her hands and arms were made of metal—it was only when you looked properly that you realized a delicate pattern enclosed her flesh.

What people wouldn’t know was that the marks were the result of magical wardings branded not just onto the surface of Donna’s skin, but
inside
as well. There had been operations when she was a child, magical operations that she chose not to think about. Not because there had been pain at the time, but because of the strange cold metal that now encased her bones. Maker might be a master craftsman, but Donna sometimes had a hard time appreciating his work when it made her feel so
cold
.

But this strange beauty was part of her now, forever. Her skin never itched or tanned under the sun, or scalded if the water was too hot.

Xan didn’t say a word for what felt like a lifetime. Donna swallowed hard and forced herself to look at him as he drank in the sight of her. He was transfixed by the shimmering silver spirals that wound around her wrists and up toward her elbows.

His eyes shone brighter than ever as he looked at her. “I knew there must be a reason that I met you. You’re like me. You
understand
.”

Donna couldn’t help a small, sad smile. “And you understand me, too.” She pulled on her gloves again, concentrating on the task so as not to see the warmth in Xan’s gaze. There was a buzzing sound in her ears and she felt lightheaded.

“Thank you,” Xan said, his voice grave.

“For what?”