Wicked Enchantment (32 page)

Aislinn’s whole body jerked as she realized for the first time what removing the Shadow King from his throne would mean. She was the next in line for possession. She was, for all intents and purposes, overthrowing the royal of the Unseelie Court and putting herself in his place. No matter her reasons for doing so, that was the end result.

Gods, she’d never signed on for this. She’d never dreamed of this, never
wanted
it.

The ironic part was that she’d never have made a move for the Shadow King’s throne if Aodh hadn’t tried to kill her and threatened those she loved. By trying to avoid the fate he most feared, he’d brought it about.

Niall took another step into the light, leaving one half of his body in shadow. The one bright blue eye that Aislinn could see glittered coldly. “So call your crew, Lord of the Wild Hunt, and let’s go take out the trash.”

 

 

 

 

AERIC
had rented an apartment using cash and a false name during the last week. It was an anonymous place on an anonymous street in the border area between the
ceantar dubh
and the commercial district. A sticker on the door and a broken lock declared it had already been searched by the Shadow Guard. A sparse place, meant only for one person or maybe two, it had a single bedroom, one bath, and a small living room and kitchen. Today it fit six people and one dog.

The dog was a sleek black hound named Blix, a hunt hound, in fact. He’d come with Bran, who, according to Gabriel, had an affinity for animals. As far as Aislinn could tell, Bran seemed to get along better with four-footed living things than the two-footed variety. Though Bran had lost his furred friend early on when Blix had decided he liked Aislinn more. Lex, Bran’s crow, stuck close, however, never leaving Bran’s shoulder.

Now Aislinn sat on the floor of the bare living room, long gray skirt pooling around her ankles on the floor, while the others murmured in the kitchen. Melia had brought them both a change of clothes. Out in the kitchen, Gabriel spoke in that lighthearted, arrogant way he had, asking them how badly the Shadow King had questioned them about him. Now she knew there was much more under the surface of that carefree, rakish mask he wore. He was very concerned his friends had been in danger because of their connection to him, but he was trying not to show it.

“He questioned every woman who ever spent a night in your bed,” Aelfdane said, a smile in his voice. “It took him a long time.”

“Yeah, because fuck if that isn’t almost every woman in the Black Tower,” Aeric added.

Gabriel laughed. “That’s not true. I only sleep with the pretty ones.”

“Oh, really? Then how do you explain Aeria?” Melia chimed in.

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Aeria has gorgeous eyes and a—”

“—nice pair of tits,” Aeric finished for Gabriel.

Everyone laughed.

“Yes, well, we just want you back there and all returned to normal, so you can go back to your old ways,” Melia finished.

His old ways. Yes. Aislinn was sure Gabriel wanted that, too.

She leaned her head back against the wall behind her and threaded her fingers through the hound’s short hair. Tomorrow morning she would do all she could to ensure that happened. She wanted things back to normal for herself, too, whatever that new “normal” was going to be. As long as it wasn’t dead, she’d be okay.

However, the likelihood of her—of any of them—still being alive by tomorrow evening was somewhat in question. Okay, a lot in question. But that was something none of them talked about. Positivity was the name of the game on the eve of one’s death, apparently. She could see the allure.

They spent the day and evening planning for what would happen in the morning. By nightfall all of them had gone the way they’d come—one by one, cautiously, keeping to the shadows. At the window, she watched Bran ghosting away into the night with the odd Netherworld hound at his side and his crow like a smudge of charcoal perched on his shoulder. The moonlight silvered the pavement of the street and licked shadows up the sides of the nearby buildings.

She felt Gabriel more than heard him come to stand behind her. “Okay?”

Inhaling carefully, she took a moment to answer. “As okay as I can be on the eve we attempt to overthrow the Unseelie Court.”

“Surreal, isn’t it?”

“Unbelievable.” She paused. “You’re lucky to have such good friends.”

“They’re more than just friends; they’re my family. I’ve been with them since whatever mystic powers chose me for the Wild Hunt.”

She continued to stare out the window at the darkened street. Not a fae soul could be seen out there now. “How did it happen?”

He leaned down close to her back, a hand to each side of the windowsill, pinning her there, and spoke near her ear. “The previous Lord of the Wild Hunt died and his host disbanded. One night something—some force—pulled me from my sleep and compelled me to the top of the Black Tower. At the top were the others—Melia, Aelfdane, Aeric, and Bran. We just
knew
why we were there. I was the only one with the ability to call the Wild Hunt and the only one able to ride Abastor, the black horse who leads the others. Eventually, as my second in command, Aeric also developed the magick needed to call it down.” He chuckled. “But Aeric still can’t handle Abastor.”

“Were Melia and Aelfdane already married when they were called to be a part of the Furious Host?”

“No. They fell in love as a result of being on the hunt together.” He gave a low laugh and the sound in the darkness reminded her of fall wood smoke or the scent of a fine cigar. “They’re an odd couple, I guess. She’s so battle hardened and he’s deceivingly fragile looking, as a male Twyleth Teg, but they’re well suited and very happy with each other.”

“I get Aeric O’Malley. He’s very old, a blacksmith who can no longer craft the weaponry he used to in the old days. I remember the romantic story about him and his beautiful fiancé, Aileen. Emmaline Siobhan Keara Gallagher, the Summer Queen’s assassin, killed Aileen out of jealousy and Aeric was heartbroken. He is strong, loyal, and brave. Bit of a temper. Good sense of humor. He respects you.” She shook her head. “But I don’t get Bran.”

“Bran.” He let out a slow breath. “He’s in a different world most of the time. Quiet, dreamy. We think he’s mostly wilding, probably only just this side of Unseelie. His power is with the animals and with birds. He doesn’t talk just to hear his own voice. When he speaks it’s to say something worth hearing. He’s secretive, but I would trust him with my life.”

“You
are
trusting him with your life.”

“I am.”

“If you trust him, I trust him.”

He grasped her shoulders and turned her to face him. The shadows half concealed his expression, moonlight catching the other side in pale silver. He stared down at her for a moment before dipping his head and catching her lips against his.

She’d meant to push him away. She’d meant to tell him no if he tried this tonight. But now all her protests dried in her throat. At dawn she was bringing an army of unforgiven dead down on the head of the Unseelie Royal. By tomorrow at around brunch time, it was doubtful she’d even still be alive. Why not take this night and spend it in the kind of ecstasy she knew only Gabriel could give her? Saying no to him didn’t make sense, not at this point.

She rose up on her toes and pushed back at him aggressively, her teeth nipping at his lower lip. He shuddered against her and yanked her up against his chest, his mouth slanting over hers. Forcing her lips apart, he slid his tongue within to dance against her tongue. Fisting handfuls of her skirt, he dragged the material upward, rubbing his palms against her outer thighs, then going higher.

He pushed her back, so she half sat on the windowsill, and yanked her underwear down. She helped him get them off her legs as her fingers quested and found the button and zipper of his jeans. She stroked his length as soon as it was in her hand, and he groaned. She couldn’t wait to have it inside her.

“Wait. No, no,” he murmured, cupping her face in his hands and forcing her to look at him. “I want you slower than this, better.”

She nipped his lower lip again. “We have all night.” She laughed a little against his mouth. “What? Did you think you’d sleep tonight? I won’t be able to.” Her fingers danced along the underside of his cock. “Might as well have something to do.”

“Bad girl.”

“Apparently I’m the worst. Just ask the Shadow King.”

“No.” He shook his head and nipped her throat in almost a punishing way. “No, we’re not going to talk about him. His name doesn’t cross your lips again tonight.” He smiled and kissed her, a sweet drag of his mouth over hers. “Anyway, I can think of better uses for those lips.”

She thrust her hips forward and found the slick head of his cock. He slid inside her and her head fell back on a moan as he pushed deep within. Kissing the arch of her throat, he moved inside her, taking away the horror of the upcoming battle and the uncertainty that dawn would bring.

 

 

“THEY’RE
here.” The words slid like ice down the back of Aislinn’s throat. Her fingers curled into the silky fur of the hound that stood waist-high beside her. Blix was an ever-present fixture this morning.

She could feel the sluagh a moment before they appeared in the square. The chill of them touched the back of her neck and slid beneath her shirt. The sluagh winked into existence before her, a shimmering gray army of unforgiven dead.

Each of them held a weapon. Some fisted hammers, some swords; others wielded scythes. No matter the weapon they gripped, all of them struck fear into the hearts of those few who could view them in their noncorporeal form. She was glad this was happening now, in the early predawn hours, before the city was filled with onlookers.

A split second after they appeared, Aislinn commanded them before they could act of their own volition. “
Sluagh, obey me
. Stand still and do not move until I order it.” She raised her arm and her voice boomed out of her, shivers of magick rocking her on her feet.

The sluagh went stock-still at her command. Even the slight rustle of moving bodies stopped.

She took a careful breath and touched Blix at her side for support. Her other hand gripped the charmed iron dagger Gabriel had given her. The twisted leather grip felt good in her hand. “Sluagh, take corporeal form.”

A subtle sound, something like the faint creaking of leather, filled the air and the sluagh were corporeal. Making them corporeal meant everyone could see them instead of just herself, Gabriel, and the Furious Host. A murmured hush rose like a wave in the square interspersed with a few surprised screams.

“Oh, fuck,” breathed Niall on her other side.

Behind them, in the Black Tower, the inhabitants had begun to stir. Shouting and pounding feet, all coming closer. Alarm at the sight in the square. The sluagh seemed to frighten even the goblins.

“Aislinn,” said Gabriel. “I would hurry if I were you. The goblins are on their way.”

Yes, Shadow King would have ordered them to the square already. “Legion of unforgiven dead, sluagh, hear my commands. You will hunt down the royal of the Unseelie Court, Aodh Críostóir Ruadhán O’Dubhuir. Once you find him, you will return from whence you came . . . taking Aodh Críostóir Ruadhán O’Dubhuir with you. Anyone who raises a hand against you, you have permission to battle. Otherwise, you will raise your hand to no one, harm no one, as you execute my wish.” She paused, hearing the approaching horde behind her.

The doors of the Black Tower opened; men and monsters poured through.

“Aislinn,”
Gabriel said again, his voice full of warning.

“Move, sluagh, go! Carry out my order!” she yelled.

Gabriel yanked her to the side, sweeping her out of the way just as the first wave of Shadow Guard and goblin combatants washed forth from the Black Tower into the square. The black hound bounded alongside her and Gabriel. On their other side were Melia, Aelfdane, Aeric, Bran, and Niall. Overhead Lex flew in a wide circle over the square. From a distance away, in the gray early morning murk, the two sides—the sluagh and the forces commanded by the Black Tower—collided.

The sluagh were merciless and efficient. Killing machines. That was how Aislinn knew they would win. The Black Tower didn’t stand a chance against this army of immortal unforgiven dead. Not against all-too-mortal goblins and men.

Aislinn wanted to turn her face away from it, but she was ultimately responsible for it. Therefore she needed to watch. She needed to see every one of the Shadow King’s supporters fall in their defense of him, every drop of blood spilled. She needed to see every goblin life lost, goblins who didn’t fight of their own free will, but because they were enslaved by the Shadow Amulet and compelled by the Unseelie Royal’s will.

She had set this into motion and she needed to see and take responsibility for it all.

“Come on,” said Gabriel. “We’ve got to use this chaos to slip into the Black Tower.”

“Here come the goblins,” Aeric yelled. “Straight at us.”

“Hells!” Niall answered, watching in horror with the rest of them as the horde of goblins—released on the populace by the Shadow King, no doubt—poured in among the sluagh and fought them for the highest horror honors.

The sluagh and the goblins were controlled by Aislinn and the Shadow King respectively. The difference was that Aislinn had instructed the sluagh not to harm innocents. She was certain the Shadow King had given no such order to the goblins.

A seven-foot-tall powerie with his bald head dyed bloodred attacked Aelfdane, swinging a club at his head, which he ducked and missed by a hair. Melia screamed and attacked with a blast that sent the powerie careening backward. Melia was one of the only Unseelie fae able to use her magick that way, luckily enough for her husband.