Wicked Fantasy (25 page)

“Maybe he should exempt everyone on our side.” Brynn winced as another round of thunder echoed across the courtyard. “We might need a sudden appearance by one of the good guys.”

“Too late.” Conall sucked in his breath as he riveted his attention on the twin faces.

Low rumbling growls rolled from the gaping mouths. The growls grew to roars that made Eric cover his ears. “Jeez, tone it down. That level of noise is a killer for those of us with sensitive hearing.”

Holgarth cast him a dismissive glance.

“You'll scare the customers. They'll want their money back.” Brynn knew how to argue in Holgarth's language.

The wizard spread his arms wide. “Watch silently, Guardians of the Castle.”

The roars died, but the bulging eyes glowed yellow in the darkness.

Holgarth wilted right before Conall's eyes. He sat down on the pathway and took off his pointed hat to rake his fingers through his gray hair. “That kind of ritual takes a lot more out of me than it used to.”

“Yeah, we know.” Conall's legs still felt rubbery.

“Wouldn't it have made more sense to just ban all demons from the castle?” Eric rubbed his ringing ears.

“Gerry can't stay in the castle forever. It's best if we lure him here where we can meet him on our terms, in a place he can't escape from by disappearing.” Conall clenched his fist around the anticipation of making mush of Dell.

Eric nodded. “Gotcha.” He stared into the night. “Got to go. Donna and I have some vampy things to do in the dark.” And then he was gone.

Brynn slapped Conall on the back. “Go take care of your woman. Oh, and if you need Fo, give a shout. Of course, be prepared to cart Conalla along, too. Might be interesting. Fo's baby demon detector has an intriguing skill.” He grew serious. “Okay, so it's kind of scary, too.”

Conall watched Brynn walk away. “She's not my woman.” Who was he trying to convince? If it was himself, he was doing a piss-poor job of it. He didn't get to puzzle over Gerry's status in his life for long, though, because Holgarth interrupted his thoughts.

“I assume you're pondering where to find Jinx. And I'm positive you intend to track him down right now, because you're a man of your word.” The wizard climbed to his feet and dusted himself off. Then he centered his pointed hat on his head, thereby returning his universe to its normal position.

“Sure. I'll get right on it.” Not. He'd spend a few minutes looking for the shifter, not find him, and then head for Asima's room.

“Excellent. I believe I saw Jinx slip into the great hall just before I awakened the Guardians. And if I'm not mistaken, at this very moment he's hiding his ill-gotten goods in a crack in the battlements. If you hurry, you'll catch him.”

“Thanks.” Well, hell. Conall jerked the door open so hard it bounced against the wall with a booming crash. He strode across the great hall as panicked customers scurried out of his path and stomped up the winding stairs till he reached the door leading to the battlements.

Sure enough, Jinx was crouched over a small package he was stuffing into a crack in the wall. With a muffled curse, Conall crossed the distance between them in a few strides and hoisted Jinx into the air by the scruff of his thieving neck.

Jinx squeaked his alarm. “Jeez, watch the shirt. It's the only clean one I have left. Does the castle have laundry facilities?”

“You won't need a clean shirt if you're dead.”

“Got a point there.” Jinx peered fearfully over the wall. It was a long way down.

“I'll take that package from you and then you come with me.”

“And if I don't want to go with you?”

Conall stretched his arm out until Jinx was dangling over empty space. “Do you bounce?”

Jinx gulped. “Okay, okay. You and me, we're a team.”

Conall drew in a deep breath and resisted the urge to let go. He set Jinx down, retrieved the package, and then stuffed it in his jeans pocket. “Follow me.”

He didn't look behind him as he dropped the stolen jewelry off at the registration desk and then headed for Asima's room. Conall could hear Jinx running to keep up. What was he going to do with this guy trailing around after him? He'd better think of something fast, because no way was Jinx moving into the dungeon with Gerry and him.

When he reached Asima's door, he knocked. He was still busy turning over the problem of Jinx in his mind when the door swung open. As music swelled around him, he stepped inside.

And froze.

Cats. Lots of cats. All dancing. And in the middle of the dancing cats was Gerry. She whirled and twirled to the music, and her laughter swept Jinx from his mind.

“Whoa, mama! Are those cats wearing diamond collars?”

“Looks like it.” Conall was vaguely aware of Jinx edging around him into the room, but his attention was only for Gerry.

He'd seen so many shades of her emotions, but this was the first time he'd watched her taking lighthearted joy in the moment. As she twirled, her long dark hair floated around her and those green Irish eyes sparkled. In his mind, he didn't see the jeans and top she wore. His imagination painted her in a short red dress that swirled above her knees, exposing a smooth expanse of thigh. Maybe he'd buy her that dress.

“Dance with me, O'Rourke.” She swayed over to him and tugged at his hand.

Okay, this was weird. There had to be at least ten cats in the room, all on their hind legs, all keeping time to the music from the ballet on the DVD. Asima was in the midst of them, her blue Siamese eyes slitted in ecstasy.

“I can't dance.” And he was damn glad he couldn't if it meant pirouetting around the room on his toes with a bunch of cats.

“I'll teach you.” She gave him no choice as she wrapped her arms around him and moved to the music.

Conall found that he couldn't resist putting his arms around her when she was this close. Swaying with her, he drew her close. “This I can do, but nothing fancy or I'm outta here.”

Her laughter was warm against his chest. “You really never danced? Not even when you were young? What did you do for fun?”

He frowned, trying to remember. “It was so long ago. All I recall is training for battle from morning to evening. Childhood wasn't a carefree time back then.”

“I'm sorry.”

She hugged him close, and he gave himself over to the sensation of her body pressed against his, heat building at all the important pressure points.

Conall shrugged. “Eight centuries ago it was the way of life.”

“Would you go back to Ireland if you were free of the curse?” Her arms slipped to around his waist, and she laid her head against his chest.

“Why?” Since all the cats were bopping to their personal rhythm and not paying any attention to him, he allowed himself to put his lips on her hair and then run the silky strands through his fingers.

“Oh, I don't know. Closure?” She sighed and burrowed closer.

“Would you go with me?” He stopped moving. He'd asked something important here, but he wasn't quite sure what it was. Maybe it wasn't the question itself, but how he'd phrased it, as if he was free of the curse and could go where he pleased.

“Yes.” She met his gaze.

He had the feeling they were talking in code again, but he was enjoying their closeness too much to bother pulling out his decoder ring. Shutting his eyes, he gave himself to his senses—the slide of her breasts over his chest, the brush of her thighs against his cock, the scent of citrus from whatever shampoo she used.

“If you could do anything you wanted, what would it be?” With eyes still closed, he savored her voice, all husky and sexy. It rubbed against nerve endings that came alive to the stimulus, demanded more of everything.

“Um, Conall?”

He opened his eyes. “Huh? Oh. What would I do?”
Lay you down on this rug and bury myself deep inside you.
“I don't know. It doesn't matter anyway.”

“Sure it does. Tell me.” She wasn't going to give it up.

“I'd play in the NFL.” There, he'd told her. Now maybe he could get back to enjoying all the close contact.

“Why?”

Conall drew in a deep breath of patience. He didn't want to talk about himself, about things that could never happen in his life. But she wasn't going to let it alone. “Sometimes I miss the battlefield. Not the killing, but the physical challenge.”

“And?” She looked rapt, completely tuned into his admission.

It made him uneasy. He wasn't comfortable letting anyone slip beyond his surface thoughts. But this was Gerry, and for her he'd do a little elaborating.

“I love watching football, and I'd make a good player. I honed my skills on a real battlefield. If you don't run fast or hit people hard enough there, you die.”

“Why didn't you ever try out?” Her fingers crept under his shirt and massaged a searing circle on his back.

“Couldn't. I had other obligations.”

She nodded. “The curse.” Her fingers slipped to the edge of his jeans and wiggled underneath the material until she cupped his cheeks. “So do it now. I'll come and cheer.”

She squeezed and he groaned.

“Of course, you could only play for about ten years, and then you'd have to retire before anyone noticed you didn't age.”

Conall never found out where her clever fingers would go next because without warning the door was flung open and Morrigan stood there in her bare-butt crow form. Crap.

Ten pairs of kitty eyes lit with interest.

“Forget it, girls. I'm one bird that's off limits.” Her beady stare focused on Conall and Gerry. “Any sex going on here? Don't think you can sneak off to someone else's room to do it.” She glanced around. “Let me guess. More messengers of Bast. Does the goddess know all her help is partying on company time?” She narrowed her gaze. “Diamond collars? Bast is overpaying all of you. Leather collars and minimum wage, that's all any of you're worth.”

That opinion was met with hisses and growls.

Oblivious, Morrigan rattled on. “Talking about collars, I just saw a snake slithering down the hallway with one of them. Any of you lose an extra you packed?”

“Ooomph! Ugh!” When the stampede for the door cleared, Morrigan was flat on the floor with a scattering of black feathers around her. “Damn. I can't afford to lose any more feathers.” She looked around the catless room. “Guess the party's over.”

Conall clenched his fists, imagining he was squeezing the life from Jinx. “I'll kill him.”

Gerry put her hand on his arm. “I'd help you, but I have to take him back to face trial. Right now we have to get to him before the cats do.”

He knew his smile spoke of his hopes for an evil outcome for the shifter. “We'll walk slowly.”

“No, we won't.” She tugged at him. “Those cats will eat him alive if they catch him.”

“I'll go with you.” Morrigan seemed energized at the possibility of a bloody end to Jinx.

Reluctantly, Conall followed Gerry out the door. This keeping-Jinx-with-him promise wasn't going to work. He needed to find someone with paranormal power who'd be willing to take over the job, someone who could bind Jinx to him.

But who'd be stupid enough to do that? Maybe someone who needed what Gerry and he could offer. And that would be . . . He'd have to think it through.

“Slow down. Crows' feet take tiny steps.” Morrigan sounded cranky. “I hope you guys realize that I'm on top of everything. You can't hide from me. It didn't work the first time, so give up on looking for a hidey hole where you can have sex. I've kept Conall miserable for eight hundred years, and the misery isn't going to end anytime soon.”

“Yeah, we get that, goddess.” He glanced down at her. One well-placed stomp would make up for a lot of those years. Problem was, Morrigan was immortal, so all he'd do was piss her off.

“I don't have anything personal against you, Gerry. But you're going to have to restrain your lust for him. It's doable.”

Gerry's expression said she'd be open to some stomping, too. “How?”

“I noticed the demonic vestal virgins wandering around. Talk to them. When they're finished, you won't want Conall anywhere near you.”

“Been there, done that. Didn't work.” Gerry kept scanning the hall. Probably looking for any sign of a snake's tail sticking out from a crack.

Personally, he was hoping for the sound of mortal combat followed closely by cat voices raised in shouts of triumph.

“Who called the virgins from hell?” Morrigan was chatty tonight. “Most have found they're more trouble than they're worth.”

“Edge.” Conall answered absently as he headed for the stairs.

Edge
. He stopped walking. He grinned.

“I don't sense any bloodshed.” Morrigan turned around. “This is boring. Remember, I'll be watching.” And she walked away.

“What're you so happy about?” Gerry followed him as he picked up his pace.

“First we find Jinx, and if the cats have left anything worth saving, we take him to Edge.”

“Any idea where Jinx might head?” Conall didn't slow his pace.

Gerry trotted to keep up. “The great hall.”

“Why?” Not willing to wait for the elevator, he took the stairs.

“The more people around, the easier it is to lose pursuers.”

They entered the great hall to chaos. Cats everywhere. Confused customers. Puffing castle workers chasing cats. Lesson learned? Cats run faster. And in the middle of the mess, Holgarth.