Текст книги "Burned"

Автор книги: Karen Marie Moning

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Текущая страница: 20 (всего у книги 27 страниц)

“You couldn’t deal with it, and you couldn’t despise yourself any more than you already did, so you turned it on me. You want to hate me for taking that memory and stashing it away for a while, go ahead.”

I snap, “I don’t want to hate you for it. I want to find a way to forgive you for it. And that’s what scares me. You took my memory, my choice to deal with or refuse to deal with what happened. You took a slice of my reality.”

“I’ll say this one more fucking time: I couldn’t have taken it if you hadn’t been so willing to throw it away. The brain is a complex thing. It inscribes, it etches, it’s bloody well sticky. The memory was always there, that’s how you found it. I merely kicked it beneath a rock. You put the entire force of your will behind my kicking it. You helped me hide it. I relieved you of what you considered a despicable stain in your mind. Best fucking night of my existence.” He laughs and shakes his head. “And you couldn’t get rid of it fast enough. I didn’t want to hide the memory from you. I wanted to cram it down your goddamn throat. I wanted to force you to face it, to want it, to want me, to be willing to fight for what was possible between us with the same single-minded devotion as you fucked. Well, Ms. Lane, you’ve got your precious memory back. Will you throw me away now?”

I’m horrified to realize that’s the choice. Keep him or don’t. Stay or go. How do you trust a man who took one of your memories from you? How do you convince yourself he won’t do it again? And if I did convince myself of it, wouldn’t I pretty much be that lamb in a city of wolves he’d accused me of being that night? Believing what I wanted to believe, over the far more likely truth: recidivism is human nature.

We are what we are. Actions speak.

He intuits my thoughts without even being able to see my face. “Yes. Actions speak. Analyze mine. Not long after I used Voice on you to tuck away your memory of that night, I began teaching you Voice, knowing you would be immune to me ever using it on you again. I leveled the playing field. In a court of justice, one might consider that atonement for a—” He breaks off and laughs softly. “—crime of passion. And that, my dear complicated fucking Ms. Lane, is the closest thing to an apology you will ever get from a man who apologizes to no one. Take it or leave it.”

He’s up, past me, and out the door before I can even reply.

31

“Like an army falling one by one by one”

MAC

Fact: you can never know another person completely.

Fact: you are born alone and die alone.

Fact: there is no such thing as safety. Only vigilance, determination to survive, and a willingness to be ruthless about it.

Fact: love is not perfect.

Fact: neither am I.

Those five facts are the bile with which I digest the events of my day.

I marvel, as I sprawl on the chesterfield in front of my favorite gas fireplace aft of the bookstore, at the way my thought processes have refined. There used to be so many pit stops and detours between my mental points of departure and their eventual destinations, but now it goes kind of like this: Do I love him? Yes. Is he perfect? No. Am I? No. Will I leave him? No. Okay, that’s resolved. Time for a nap.

I wake when the doorbell tinkles, roll over, rub my eyes, and shove my hair out of my face. I slept hard. It occurs to me that I didn’t rehang the bell after Ryodan ripped it off the frame. Barrons must have done it.

First thing I do when I open my eyes is look down at my hand. Yup. Still invisible. Awesome! I’m in no hurry to give this up. Besides, I feel deep couch marks all over my right side, from my arm up to my cheek. I’ve been tufted. I hate walking around with sheet creases and now I have little sphincter-like explosions all over the side of my face.

I become aware of a slow burn in the pit of my stomach and leap up to an instant crouch, biting back a growl.

I smell Unseelie Prince.

I duck low to remain concealed behind the silhouette of the couch and begin inching quietly back toward the private-residence half of the bookstore, then remember they can’t see me. Duh.

I straighten up and peer through the low light, wondering what the hell my rapists are doing in my home.

I blink. They’re standing in the entry with Fade, Dageus and Drustan MacKeltar, and R’jan, who is attended by the new Seelie advisor-vote Ryodan recently approved.

The doorbell chimes two more times in quick succession as Barrons and Jada step in, dusting rain from their shoulders.

What the hell?

“Why did you ask me to come?” Jada says to Barrons. “And what are they doing here?” She narrows her eyes at the princes who hiss and posture aggressively.

“I didn’t.”

“I received your message.”

“I didn’t send one.”

Jada moves to leave. Barrons places a hand on her arm and she turns slowly back and looks up.

He says, “I would prefer you stay.”

I narrow my eyes. What is Barrons up to?

She stares at him for a moment then says, “I will honor your request. Once. In the future you will honor one for me.”

“A simple request of attendance. Nothing more.”

She inclines her head.

Right, she’s nice to Barrons but not me.

I like Jada. She’s strong. Smart. Lethal. Too bad she used to be Dani. Too bad she has no heart. I want Dani back. But I wouldn’t mind keeping Jada, too, once she gets with the program that reads: Mac is good, don’t hunt her. Speaking of why she’s hunting me – where the heck has the Sinsar Dubh gone? Three princes are standing here and I’m not hearing a single suggestion that I go postal and kill everyone in sight. The Book has been so quiet it’s starting to make me nervous.

Then the Unseelie Princes are asking why Barrons sent a message threatening to remove them from the council if the princes didn’t meet him here, and R’jan starts snarling about the threat he received from the Highlander to withdraw their protection if he didn’t come, and I smell Ryodan’s hand in things before I even catch a glimpse of him approaching through the rain beyond the beveled glass diamond panes of the front door.

When the urbane owner of Chester’s stalks in, the accusations escalate, all now directed toward him and his sleight of hand.

“Had I summoned, you wouldn’t have come,” Ryodan says to Rath, then barks, “Upstairs, at the table. All of you.”

Yeah, right. He just tried to order nine of the most uncooperative beings I know to cooperate en masse. It’s not going to happen.

Everyone starts growling and arguing again. Ryodan vanishes. Then R’jan’s new advisor is gone.

Long moments spin out while R’jan looks around wildly.

After nearly thirty seconds Ryodan reappears and tosses the body of R’jan’s new advisor at his feet. Dead. I almost laugh aloud at the look of consternation on R’jan’s face.

The Seelie Prince snarls, “You will cease doing that! You killed our fucking advisor! That is twice now you’ve insulted us with—”

“Little point devising new tactics when the old ones just keep working. Pull your head out of your ass and see it coming. The next one to die is you, then Rath. Get the fuck upstairs.”

Jada moves for the door.

Barrons says, “You will remain. Honor your pledge.”

A muscle works in her jaw but she slowly turns back around. “You have five minutes of my time.”

“Five is all I need,” Ryodan says.

Jada gives him a cool smile. “That’s what I’ve heard.”

I smirk.

Ryodan opens his mouth to reply then astounds me by closing it. I was ready for one of his frankly sexual remarks. I was rather looking forward to it. She deserved it for that one. From the look on Jada’s face, she was anticipating one, too.

He says nothing. Interesting. Is it because she’s Dani? Or because she’s not Dani at all?

“Move your asses, all of you,” Fade orders.

When they ascend, growling and snarling the whole way, I hurry up the stairs behind them, to camouflage any telltale squeaks the planks might make as they shift beneath my weight if I wait until they all reach the top.

Barrons, Fade, Ryodan, and the two Highlanders cram into seats along one side of the square and it’s almost comical to see the five enormous men packed shoulder to shoulder, leaving the Unseelie Princes and R’jan to split the other two. I wonder where Sean is; if he was similarly summoned and chose not to appear or if Ryodan omitted him deliberately.

Jada stands, legs spread, arms folded. Tonight she has a knife strapped to each thigh, in addition to an assortment of bulges at her ankles, pockets, and waistband. I carry concealed myself, so have no trouble picking out extra magazines and grenades. There’s blood on her shirt. I wonder who or what she killed tonight, and how many. I miss fighting back-to-back with her.

“Why have you called us here?” R’jan demands. “And where is the O’Bannion?”

I take a position opposite Jada, with the table between us, unconsciously mimicking her posture, studying her curiously. Still dressed in black, still coolly beautiful, something nags about her appearance. My gaze drifts from her head to her feet then back. Her cuff glints silver. Where have I seen it before?

“O’Bannion is irrelevant to the matter we’re discussing tonight.”

The Seelie Prince scowls, no doubt wondering if there have been meetings held without him present, without his knowledge. “And the human that runs the abbey?”

“I run the abbey,” Jada says.

“There is one thing upon which we can agree,” Ryodan says, “and that is we would all prefer the Crimson Hag dead.”

“That is why you brought us here? To discuss the Hag?” Rath says. “She is occupied. We do not care about her.”

“You will aid in destroying our mutual enemies or you are the enemy,” Ryodan says.

Jada says, “No one knows the Hag’s location.”

“The Unseelie Princess has located her,” Ryodan says.

“You know this how?” Jada says.

“You know where Christian is?” Dageus explodes. “Why the bloody hell are we sitting here?”

Ryodan says to Jada, “The Unseelie Princess is now in my employ. Never think to control my city. You have the sidhe-seers. That is all you have.”

“The princess is not pure blood,” Kiall says coldly. “You will never admit her to our table.”

I wonder what he means by that. Even I sensed the difference. But what?

“You will share a table with anyone I choose, mongrel or otherwise,” Ryodan says.

“I said, where the bloody hell is Christian?” Dageus says again.

“I would see Christian freed. You may present your proposition.” Jada’s voice is void of inflection. If she’s irritated that Ryodan usurped her plan, she betrays none of it. The fire I saw in his office is now ice.

“His location is difficult to reach,” Ryodan says. “The three princes will sift three of us in. Using one of them as bait and Mac to divert—”

WTF? I bristle.

“You think we will be your fucking bait?” Kiall snarls.

“—we will put the Hag down for good and free the Keltar,” Ryodan says.

“In addition to me, who are the other two sifting in?” Jada says.

“Aye, exactly who the bloody hell do you think is going?” Dageus growls.

“We will cooperate with this plan why?” Kiall says.

“With your new brother back and the Hag dead …” Ryodan lets it hang. He doesn’t need to say more. They would be enormously powerful.

“He is not their brother,” Drustan says softly. “And never will be.”

Kiall says, “In every sense that matters, Highlander.”

“Why should the Seelie give a fuck?” R’jan growls.

“A prince with no royal allies, you are the Hag’s most logical next target. If that is not enough to persuade you, Mac is in the room with us and will kill any of you that don’t cooperate with my plan. You won’t see it coming because she’s invisible. Say hello, Mac.”

Jada’s head whips from side to side, scanning the room.

I can’t freaking believe Barrons told Ryodan I’m invisible! And I can’t freaking believe Ryodan thinks he’s going to use me as his private weapon! My jaw clenches. That man makes me almost as crazy as Barrons does. No wonder. They’re related.

“You do wish to rescue Christian, don’t you, Ms. Lane?” It’s a soft warning from Barrons.

He doesn’t know I’m here. He’s assuming. And as the man once told me himself: assume makes an ass out of u and me. I clench my jaw harder. Let them talk to air. Let others think them mad.

Jada continues searching the room intently. I can practically see her ears perked up like a hunting dog. If I’m stupid enough to say something, she’ll be on me in an instant.

To Jada, Ryodan says, “If you think to attack Mac for a reason I’m certain you don’t want to discuss right now, it’ll be war between us. If you’re half as intelligent as I think you are, you know such a war would be futile, pointless, and catastrophic.” To the princes, he says, “We will work together to destroy our mutual enemies. Only then will we kill each other, making it easier for the one who remains to control the world.”

Rath and Kiall look at each other and nod. “That is the first wise thing you’ve said, human.”

Ryodan cuts Kiall a hard look. “Call me human again and you die.”

Kiall is silent a moment then inclines his head. “Mongrel will do. For now.”

Ryodan smiles faintly but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Mongrel is preferable to human.”

“Another wise comment. But we will not be ‘bait’ for the Hag.”

“Nor will I,” R’jan growls.

“Whoever agrees to be bait will get another vote at the table.”

“Who the fuck put you in charge of the table anyway?” Kiall demands.

“In addition to the advisor you killed?” R’jan says quickly.

“None of you are touching me long enough to sift,” Rath says. “I am not one of your fucking ferries.”

“Yes.”

“That would give him three and us two,” Kiall growls.

“A tie, when you rescue your brother,” Ryodan points out.

“A Keltar druid will bloody well not be joining the Unseelie Princes,” Dageus says.

Ryodan says nothing. Merely waits.

“You have no investment in Christian,” Jada says. “I have an investment in the Keltar. They wish him freed.”

“I don’t believe Mac is here,” Jada says.

“Ms. Lane, speak,” Barrons orders.

Ruff, I don’t say, feeling like a dog ordered to bark. Not speaking. I’m not getting used like this. They didn’t even consult with me. Like my vote doesn’t even matter.

“You will also have a vote at our table, Mac,” Ryodan says. “Or do you plan to continue abandoning your city in her time of need?”

“Oh, fuck you,” I snap. “I didn’t plan to abandon it at all. I’ve had a few problems of my own to contend with.”

Every head in the room whips to my general direction.

I duck, tumble, and roll instantly. When I look back, Jada is standing precisely where I was an instant ago.

Ryodan is behind her with an arm around her throat. Barrons is standing in front of her. I don’t envy her, sandwiched between those two men.

Or wait, maybe I do.

Jada puts a hand on Ryodan’s wrist, executes a maneuver too sleek and fast for me to follow and is abruptly standing next to him, unrestrained. “You know what Mac is. She cannot be trusted.”

Barrons moves to her left, sandwiching her between them again.

“I do know what Mac is. Your best friend. Dani,” Ryodan says, and it hurts my heart because if I’d really been her best friend, I wouldn’t have run her off into who knows what that turned her into Jada permanently. I understand now what Ryodan wasn’t telling me that night in the Hummer. Dani didn’t kill Alina. Jada did – coerced by Rowena with her vile black arts. And Jada is savagery born of unconscionable savagery done to her. I close my eyes, mourning Dani, the girl who staunchly, bravely, took the blame for killing my sister. If Ryodan is right, Dani doesn’t know for certain that she did. Merely suspects it. If Ryodan is wrong, then somehow Dani was forced to see what Jada was forced to do. I don’t know which thought pains me more.

Kiall narrows his eyes. “Dani. This human woman who stands before us now was once the young female with the sword?” Reverting for a moment to full, mad Unseelie Prince, he swivels his head and fixes Jada with an empty stare, iridescent eyes flashing as he realizes what that means. “Both the sword and the spear are in this room with us. That is unacceptable.” He begins to chime, harshly, gutturally.

“Now you understand why I’m in charge,” Ryodan says.

Jada says coolly, “Because we have the weapons and you think you have us?”

“We are far more lethal weapons,” Ryodan corrects, “and we have you.”

“No one has me or ever will. I assure you, if Mac or I cooperate with you on any matter, it’s because we want something. No other reason.” Still sandwiched between Barrons and Ryodan, she cuts a look in my general direction. “What do you want, Mac?”

Oh, wow, that’s a long list. My sister back. Dani the way she was. The Sinsar Dubh out of me. To be able to trust Barrons again. The black holes in our world gone. And that’s just for starters.

I keep it simple. Someone needs to be the voice of reason in this room.

“I want Christian rescued,” I say. “I agree to put aside all grievances in pursuit of that end. Do you?” I pause a moment, then say carefully, “Jada.” I resume studying her, nagged by something I just can’t quite – oh, holy shit. Her clothing hugs her curves, leaving no room for her to carry anything larger than a gun, knife, or grenade concealed. Jada doesn’t have the sword. At least not on her. I mentally review each time I’ve seen her: nope, she’s never been carrying it. The Dani I know would never stand in the same room with any Fae princes without it.

After a long moment she inclines her head. “I will agree to that. For now. Ryodan, you may tell us your plan.”

I glance back at her cuff. No sword, but a shiny new cuff. What would make Dani feel invincible in the presence of Fae royalty? Not at all worried that they might control her with their sexual thrall, a thing they once did; the only time I ever saw Dani cry. If she lost her sword in Faery, what would she want instead – besides my spear, and if she’d interred me at the abbey, she could have taken it.

The truth hits me with the intensity of a two-by-four to my skull.

“Your cuff,” I blurt, stunned. I was offered it on several occasions. Never looked at it long because I wanted it so damn much I could taste it. “It was Cruce’s.” My gaze flies to her face. “And it was on his arm when he got iced!” The cuff protects the wearer from Seelie and Unseelie and, according to Cruce, other assorted nasties. If his claims about it are true, with it, Jada could literally walk through a wall of Shades and pass untouched. I stare at the cuff longingly.

“Cruce?” Rath growls.

“He was destroyed long ago,” Kiall hisses.

“Remember the fourth when we fucked her in the street,” Rath murmurs to Kiall. “We detected a presence but couldn’t see it.”

“You said ‘iced.’ By the Gh’luk-ra d’J’hai? Cruce is alive?” Kiall demands.

“Duh, iced means dead,” I say coldly, in a belated attempt to exercise damage control. Their idle comment about fucking me in the street was like a shot of adrenaline to my heart. I inhale slowly, exhale even more slowly, waiting for the Book to goad me. There’s only silence.

Kiall sneers. “I do not believe even the one you called the Hoar Frost King could destroy our brother. Where is he? You will tell us now.” The Unseelie Princes lunge to their feet, staring directly at the spot I used to be standing in.

I’m a dozen feet away, half concealed behind a bookcase, hand pressed to my lips, wishing I could scrape most of my words back into my mouth tonight.

“Her brain vanished when her body did,” Ryodan says to Barrons.

“Apparently,” Barrons says.

“That’s not true,” I say hotly. “The realization startled me. I blurted. Excuse the hell out of me for being stunned to realize the one who was so busy incriminating me for trafficking with the Sinsar Dubh was also trafficking with the Sinsar Dubh. And why isn’t anyone looking accusingly at Jada?” I want to know how the heck she got that cuff off the frozen prince. That worries me. A lot.

“The Sinsar Dubh,” Kiall says softly, eyes gleaming. “It is here as well? In Dublin? Where?” He and Rath begin to chime hollowly. I can imagine their alien conversation and it’s all my fault: Our brother is alive and the Sinsar Dubh is near, we can bring them together and rule the world!

They don’t know their brother is the Sinsar Dubh and would destroy them before teaming up with them.

“And she just keeps making it worse,” Ryodan marvels.

“She is the Sinsar Dubh,” Jada says coolly. “She has it inside her.”

“And Dani just joined her,” Barrons observes, fascinated.

“As one of our Pri-ya,” Kiall murmurs to Rath, like I’m not standing right here, listening, “we could control both her and the power of the Unseelie King.”

“Pri-ya doesn’t work on me anymore. And nobody controls the Sinsar Dubh,” I say irritably, then snap at Dani, “I can’t believe you just ratted me out like that!” I duck and roll again, soundlessly relocating as Rath and Kiall begin to prowl the room looking for me.

“You did it first,” Jada says. “The cuff is an invaluable weapon. Dangerous to leave where it was.”

“You lost your sword. Admit it.”

“I know precisely where it is.”

Maybe she does. But wherever it is, for some reason she can’t get to it.

“We shall see,” Rath threatens me. “Perhaps it merely takes longer now.”

I open my mouth to ask how Dani got the cuff and if the removal of it in any way compromised the integrity of Cruce’s prison, then clack my teeth together before I say anything else spectacularly stupid. At the moment, the Unseelie Princes think I am the Book. Last thing I want them to know is that their long lost brother is, too.

As the princes continue stalking, I warn them, “I have the spear. Touch me, you’re dead.” They don’t know it’s a bluff. I draw my spear in this room, and who knows what will happen? I duck, roll, stay low.

“Where is Cruce?” R’jan demands.

No one says a word. There were only three “Seelie” present the night we interred the Sinsar Dubh: V’lane, who was actually Cruce; Velvet, who is dead; and Dree-lia, who’s apparently told no one among her court what happened. Wise woman.

“You invite us to this table yet treat us as slaves. You lie, deceive, and manipulate,” Rath snarls.

“Oh, gee, we act like far more civilized versions of you,” I mock.

“You have information you do not share,” Kiall fires back. “We are no longer allies. Fuck you.” He and his brother vanish.

“Uh, did they just sift out?” I say, looking around warily, ready to duck and roll again in a heartbeat.

“We are no longer so predictable,” R’jan purrs.

“Predictable enough,” Ryodan says.

R’jan sifts out an instant before Ryodan gets to him.

“My head is not up my ass. The advisor was disposable. We knew you kept secrets. We kept our own.” The Seelie’s words linger on the air, disembodied. “Your wards no longer work on us.”

“Your wards don’t work?” I say incredulously.

“So they think,” Barrons murmurs.

“Och, that was bloody grand,” Drustan growls. “We’ve no sifters.”

“Aye,” Dageus agrees. “So now what’s the fucking plan?”

Ryodan smiles faintly. “That was the plan.”

I gasp when the Unseelie Princess from whom I’m supposedly protecting the Nine sifts into the room, materializing directly behind Barrons and Ryodan.

She takes each by an arm.

Then all three of them are gone.