The Phoenix Charm (8 page)

Her shoulders dropped as some of the tension left her. “Master Devin isn’t here. I’ll fetch someone else.”

“Not the Teg.” The hint of panic in Cordelia’s voice made Michael tense, but a flash of understanding crossed the human woman’s face.

Michael flexed his fingers at his side. He’d considered what to do if Master Devin wasn’t around. He could think of only one alternative. “Where would we find Gwyn ap Nudd?”

The woman’s eyes flashed wide, and she stepped back. She stared at Michael for long seconds, then pointed an unsteady finger at the ceiling. “The king is to be found in the tower above us.” She jerked her head to the side, indicating the direction from which she’d come. “The staircase is a short way back there.”

Boots grated on the rough-hewn flagstone passage behind Michael. The woman screamed, a piercing sound so sudden and unexpected that Michael jumped. Wide-eyed, she turned and ran out of sight.

Michael glanced over his shoulder to see Nightshade standing behind him. “She obviously hasn’t seen a nightstalker before.”

Nightshade frowned and snapped his wings against his back. “I didn’t even have my wings spread.” He held his arms away from his body and looked down at himself with a frown. “What’s so terrible about me?”

“Forget it,” Michael said. All that mattered was persuading Gwyn ap Nudd to release Fin. Without Master Devin’s advice, Michael would have to hope his silver tongue worked on the King of the Underworld.

Damn Nightshade for spooking the human before she could be questioned. The woman must have sensed his predatory nature. Living among the Teg, her instinct for self-preservation would be sharp.

Cordelia followed Michael ten yards along the castle passage to an arched opening on the right where spiral stairs climbed steeply up a tower.

Michael paused at the foot of the staircase and looked back. He caught his bottom lip between his teeth and passed a questioning gaze over them all. “We ready for this?”

Cordelia dragged in a breath and heard Thorn do the same. She gripped his hand. He’d paled, making his green eyes seem huge and unnaturally bright. He’d talked her into bringing him and clearly he was regretting it now. So was she.

The small of her back tightened, jolting unease up her spine. In her experience, the attitude of a group’s members reflected those of their leader. She wasn’t looking forward to meeting the man who ruled the Tylwyth Teg.

“I’ll go first. You bring up the rear, Nightshade,” Michael said.

“Yes, bard. I know my place.”

Michael pinched the bridge of his nose, then gave Nightshade a weary look. “Have we got a problem, you and me?”

Nightshade glanced away, lines of tension framing his
tight lips. Cordelia thought he wasn’t going to answer, but finally he gave a single abruptnod. “I have your back, bard.”

Her neck prickled. She didn’t want Nightshade at her back. She preferred to keep him where she could see him.

“Grand,” Michael said, his tone laced with irony. “Let’s be getting this over with.”

As they climbed, Cordelia counted the stone steps to focus on something other than the nauseating storm roiling in her stomach. At a count of fifty, she paused to gaze out a tall narrow window overlooking the lake. The horse-shaped landmark she’d memorized stood out against the unnaturally blue sky. She prayed she’d soon pass beneath the rocky outcrop on her way home.

After another fifty steps, a second window gave a view of a quadrangle enclosed in the center of the castle. A few Tylwyth Teg made their way back and forth across the paved square where a fountain cascaded into a circular pool. Some of the Teg wore long white robes, others brown jerkins and trousers.

Thorn ducked his head into the opening beside her to take in the view. “D’you know what’s strange?” He glanced up the dingy winding stairway, then back out the window. “If this guy’s the king, why’s he up at the top of this tower in what’s got to be a pokey little room? Why isn’t he in some grand hall on a throne or something?”

A trickle of unease ran down Cordelia’s spine. She glanced at Michael.

“I was thinking the same thing meself, lad.” Michael gave Thorn a slap on the back. Thorn grinned as though he’d won a prize.

“Do you think it’s a trap?” Nightshade asked as the same thought formed in Cordelia’s mind. She pinched her lips together. She hated the way she and Nightshade sometimes thought alike.

“ ’Tis a possibility I’ve been turning over in me head.” Michael rested his hands on his hips, stared up the staircase,
then looked at Nightshade. “Maybe we two should go ahead and check things out?”

Nightshade moved to pass her. She pushed out her elbow to block his way.

“No.” Chills fluttered through her. She remembered the darkness that had invaded her divination mirror during her foretelling for Michael. She couldn’t let him out of her sight in case something bad happened to him. “You two can go first, but Thorn and I will follow. We’re not waiting here.”

Michael gave her an appraising look. She fixed her mouth in an unrelenting line and met his gaze. He shrugged. “I’ll not be arguing with you, lass, if it’s determined you are.” She was pleased he’d agreed, but surprised he had capitulated so easily.

While Nightshade sidled past her in the narrow stairwell, the scar on her neck from Dragon’s bite tingled and her heart sprinted as though it wanted to run away. He paused and glanced back at her quizzically. She watched him from the corner of her eye but refused to meet his gaze in case she betrayed her fear. Dragon had thrived on exploiting weakness.

“You two hang back a couple of steps,” Michael instructed with a nod toward her and Thorn. “If anything happens to me beautiful face, sugarplum, I’m counting on your brains to put matters right.” He grinned at her, and her tension seeped away. Suddenly all she wanted to do was sit on the step, gaze out the window, and enjoy the glorious view.

Michael and Nightshade disappeared up the steps and around the corner. Gradually, the haze in her mind drifted away. With a jolt of annoyance, she realized she’d been fed a dose of silver tongue. No wonder Michael hadn’t argued about her coming along.

She stood, shrugging away her lassitude and pulled on Thorn’s arm. “Come on. Michael’s gone,” she snapped.

Thorn blinked and looked around. “Weren’t we supposed to wait here?”

“That is
not
what I agreed to.” Her sense of foreboding
blossomed like frost on glass. Her head pounded as she ran up the stairs, cursing Michael. The temperature plummeted and she halted.

“What?” Thorn whispered.

“Magic.” She pressed her cheek to the outer wall, trying to peer up the spiral stairs.

“Let Tamsy go first. She’ll know if there’s danger.”

“Gods and goddesses.” Cordelia pressed her aching temples. She should have thought of that. She eased Tamsy out from her bag and set her gently on her feet.
“Go find Michael,”
she whispered mentally, sending the feel of his psychic signature. Tamsy mewed and trotted up the steps. Cordelia sat on the worn stone and melded her consciousness with Tamsy, looked through her eyes.

The magical chill shivered along the connection, penetrated Cordelia’s bones, made her teeth ache. Strong magic guarded the stairway, which didn’t bode well.

Tamsy drew level with the underside of a boot and the leg of a felled man. Cordelia’s heart jumped, fearing for Michael before she realized she could still feel his presence beating strongly in her chest.

Her cat trotted past the prone figure of Nightshade and rubbed around Michael’s legs as he dragged the stalker up the stairs. What had happened? Cordelia drummed her fingers on her thigh in frustration.

She withdrew from the link with Tamsy and cupped her hands around her mouth. “Michael?” she bellowed at the top of her voice, hoping her call carried up the stairs.

“Aye,” he shouted back.

“What’s happened to Nightshade?”

There was a moment’s silence. “He passed out.”

Cordelia pressed her fingers over her eyes to think. What sort of magical trap had Michael and Nightshade walked into? Why had the charm affected Nightshade but not Michael?

“Um, Dee,” Thorn said.

She snapped open her eyes, and he pointed out the window. “They’ve heard us.”

“Oh, rats’ tails.” Cordelia peered outside to see a growing cluster of Tylwyth Teg men gathered in the courtyard, gesturing angrily up at the window.

She pulled her head back inside at the thunder of boots on the steps below.

Cordelia clutched her empty bag to her chest. She glanced up and down the stairs, gnawing her lip. She’d rather brave the magic than a group of angry Teg. “Michael, we’re coming up.”

Thorn blinked a startled gaze at her when she grabbed his hand. They mounted the winding stairs until the chill of magic seeped into her bones.

Thorn’s footsteps faltered. His eyelids fluttered.

“Thorn!” She jerked on his hand, snaring his attention. “Stay with me.”

The strength drained from her legs as she pushed up the next two steps, her muscles stiff and icy cold. When she paused to gather her energy, Thorn sagged against the wall. “Wake up!” She slapped his cheeks. When that didn’t rouse him, she pulled his arm over her shoulders. She managed another two steps before stumbling to her knees beneath his weight.

The sound of booted feet ahead dragged up her weary gaze. Michael’s strong denim-clad legs appeared before her. He heaved Thorn’s body off her and pulled the younger man to his feet. “How you coping, sugarplum?”

Her head weighed so much she barely managed a nod.

“Another ten steps, lass, and you’re there. Follow me.”

Michael half carried, half dragged Thorn the next few steps. The sight of his strong body, unaffected by the magic, reassured her and gave her strength. She focused her energy into her thighs, pushed herself up a step by sheer force of
will. “Good, lass. I knew you were strong.” The sweet stroke of his praise infused her with purpose. The next few steps were easier.

“Nearly there.” Michael grinned back at her, causing a warm fuzzy feeling near her heart. Then he ran on ahead with Thorn.

When her foot landed on the next step, the stone dipped beneath her weight. She grabbed the wall for balance and blinked incredulously at her feet. The granite sank like wet sand, swallowing her boots. She tried to wrest her feet free but the harder she pulled, the deeper she sank.

Darkness impinged on her vision, spinning circles of shadow around her gaze so that only pinpricks of light remained. She opened her mouth to call Michael, but no sound came out. With a creeping sense of dread, she realized this wasn’t an illusion designed to frighten, but a powerful magical trap.

Her fingers clutched at her empty cat bag. How would she survive without Tamsy’s reassuring presence? She lost her balance, slapped down her palms to steady herself. The stone oozed over her hands, up her forearms, sucked her in with frightening speed.

Tamsy?
She extended her senses. But as the slick substance engulfed her, all she heard was a deafening hum of nothingness.

Michael?
The thought trickled out with no force behind it. They weren’t bonded in any way, so he wouldn’t hear her. By the time he noticed she was gone, he would be too late to rescue her.

Michael hitched Thorn’s limp body higher and pulled him up another step. Who would have thought the lad was so damn heavy? Two more steps and the chill in Michael’s bones eased. Another step and a warm breeze fluttered his hair as he drew level with a window. He snatched in a breath and let the air hiss out between his clenched teeth as he
reached the landing at the top of the tower. Strength flowed back into his muscles. Thorn groaned and opened his eyes.

“What’s up?” he mumbled.

“A charm set on the steps, lad. Nasty one, as well.”

He eased Thorn down, back against the wall beside Nightshade, who was blinking and rubbing his eyes.

“My body felt heavy; then everything went black,” Thorn said around a yawn.

“I don’t remember what happened.” Night shade wriggled forward to stretch his wings from their cramped position.

Michael frowned. He’d been weakened but never thought he’d lose consciousness. Why had the charm affected them differently?

Stretching the muscles in his back, he turned to give Cordelia a hand up the last few steps.

The stairs were empty.

Tamsy mewed, a tentative, confused call. Michael stared, blinked; his heart missed a beat, then raced in his suddenly hollow chest.

The cat yowled, a piercing, anguished cry, shooting distress through Michael.

“Cordelia!”

With Tamsy scampering beside his feet, he ran down the steps to the point where he’d last seen Cordelia. He stared around the corner. Had she fallen? Surely, he’d have heard her shout? Lethargy stole up his legs. His lungs tightened, each breath a struggle to draw enough air.

Tamsy sniffed and scratched at the rocky steps. Trusting the cat’s instinct, Michael kneeled beside her, looking for a break that would indicate a hidden trap, but the rock was solid. Chills raced across his skin, and a barely contained panic sawed at his mind.

Tamsy nibbled and clawed at the stone.

He pushed the frantic creature away, ran his palms over the step. The sensitive pad of his finger found a soft bump.

Fear swelled and nearly swallowed him as he recognized a
corner of the cat bag. He plucked at the tip of fabric with big clumsy fingertips.

“Dee!” Thorn shouted and descended a step.

“Keep away.” Michael gasped with the effort of speaking. He cast Thorn a fierce look, loaded with warning. The young man backed up, eyes wide, until his back hit the wall.

“What’s the matter, Michael?” Out of the side of his eye, Michael saw Nightshade scramble to his feet. He ignored the stalker and concentrated on catching hold of the tiny tab of fabric.

Little by little, he teased and twisted the corner of the cat bag out of the stone. Hope pulsed, yet this could mean nothing. She might have dropped the bag. The noisy footsteps ascending the stairs below came to a halt. Whoever pursued them knew better than to chance passing through the magical booby trap.

When he had the whole bag exposed, his heart stalled as the end of the looped strap was about to be released.

“Hurry,” Thorn shouted, his voice an anguished cry.

With a careful pull, Michael revealed the end of the loop—and a hand, gripping so tightly the knuckles were white.

Tears sprang into Michael’s eyes at the sight of Cordelia’s death grip. He’d thought she was mentally stronger than the others, that she’d overcome the worst effects of the charm. He shouldn’t have left her to make her own way.

Thorn wailed and half tripped, half jumped down the steps to his side. “Get back.” Michael clutched a handful of the young man’s shirt and shoved him away before he bumped Cordelia’s hand and hurt her.

Nightshade grabbed Thorn under his arms and dragged him back to the landing.

“Don’t make Michael have to rescue you too, boy,” Nightshade growled.

Gently, Michael pulled on the strap. He watched in an agony of impatience as the rock softened, allowing Cordelia’s
slender hand and delicate wrist to slide free. The silver ring on her finger had cut her skin. Blood seeped from the wound, trickled down her arm.

Breathing through his mouth to fight his emotion, he stroked her fingers so she felt him, knew she wasn’t alone. Tamsy nuzzled her hand and Cordelia’s fingers twitched. Michael maintained a steady tension on the strap. He worried that if he raised her too fast, the friction of the rock might scrape her skin. Tamsy paced restlessly, rubbing against his knees, mewing nervously, and fluttering her small pink tongue on Cordelia’s arm.