A Sliver of Shadow (32 page)

“Not hardly, Abby.” Brystion curled his upper lip. “Go do your girl thing over there if you have to, but I refuse to simply walk away and leave either of you unprotected. I’m surprised the prince allowed it, frankly. What with you two being so important and all.”

“
Now
you care.” I ignored the barb and led Melanie over to the rocks, finding a seat on the largest one. “Besides,
we’ve got an accord of sorts. Surely there’s honor in that, even among daemons?” I arched a brow at him.

“You tell me. I only happen to be one.” Without waiting for a reply, he marched several yards away to lean lazily against the golden smoothness of a nearby beech, his dark eyes gleaming as he watched us. I turned my back on him.

“You gonna tell me what all this is about? I know you’ve got your secrets with the violin, but we can’t go into this blind … or at least I can’t.”

She pushed the hair out of her face, tucking the flyaways beneath her bandana. “It’s complicated.” She rubbed at her neck, lingering on the spot Nobu had exposed.

“Isn’t it always?” A halfhearted chuckle escaped her. “You don’t have to tell me all of it if you want to wait until we’re somewhere more private.”

“Ion already knows the story,” she said wryly. “After all, he was there.” She slid the battered violin case from her shoulder, popping it open to reveal the instrument in all its silver-hued glory. The sunlight played upon the bridge so that the colors seemed to ripple beneath it.

“I was TouchStoned to Nobu once.” She said softly, stroking the strings with callused fingers, sadness lingering about her mouth as she said it. “Before I came to Portsmyth. I was stupid and arrogant and I thought I could bend the world to my whim.” Her lips pursed. “I was a better musician than he was, but not by much.”

“And modest too,” I added with a small wink. I tried not to look over at the incubus, but curiosity burned within me. I’d known they were close, but it was irritating to realize he knew such an intimate part of her that I did not.

Her gaze became distant as she watched the caravan trundle past. “We wandered from place to place, playing for our supper. They were good years. And then I had to go and spoil it all by trying to take on more than I could handle.”

“So how does the violin come into play? Or is this the part that gets complicated?”

“Yeah. Did you know the Devil has a violinist for a TouchStone?”

“Erm. No. And you’re being awfully free with that name now, aren’t you?”

She shrugged. “Nobu knows I’m here, so He knows I’m here. Nothing I say or do at this point will change that.”

I wondered at her nonchalance, but decided it wasn’t worth pointing out. The tremor in her voice was more than I felt like rubbing her face. “So. TouchStone?”

“Yeah. In a nutshell, I challenged him for a chance to win an instrument that would allow me to open Doors to the CrossRoads with the Wild Magic. Seems simple enough, except for the part where I lost.”

I blinked at her. “You lost?”

“Mmm. On a number of fronts.” Her fingers curled around the neck of her violin. “Turns out it was more of an audition than a challenge, if you catch my drift.”

A terrible thought crossed my mind and I stared at her in horror. “Christ, you’re not
His
TouchStone are you?”

“No. Not yet.” She rubbed violently at her neck, craning her head to show me her silver violinist hickey. “The Devil’s mark. Nobu was forced to kiss me there to seal the bargain when I lost, but he absorbed the sin of my arrogance in doing so.” Her gaze flicked to Brystion, her eyes glazing with unshed tears. “My soul was forfeit by all rights, but Nobu traded himself for me. The joke was on me, of course. Even though no one else can play the thing, I can’t make Doors for myself either.”

A lightbulb went off in my head. “Hence the short-term Contracts.”

“Yeah.” Melanie fumbled in her pocket like she was looking for a cigarette. “I can’t really trust anyone for very long.
The OtherFolk, I mean. They all know I can open Doors and almost all of them want full control of that. I did the Contract with Talivar for you … and because I didn’t have much choice if I wanted to play again.”

I flinched inwardly, glancing down at her wrist. No sign of broken bones now; the flesh was soft and supple. Our eyes met, regret and courage sliding between us without another word. I rubbed my own knee in sympathy. There was obviously a lot more to this story than she was going to go into, but I had enough for now.

“Seems like he still cares about you. Maybe there’s a way to make it right.” I nudged her gently, wrapping my arm around her waist. She rested her head on my shoulder.

“If he does, it’s nothing I deserve. Besides, the moment I agree to my end of the bargain, he’ll be set free.” Her knuckles whitened. “I’m nothing more than a cowardly, selfish bitch.”

“Makes two of us,” I murmured. “We should start a support group where we write sad poems in our journals about it.” She sucked in a shuddering breath. It wasn’t quite a sob and not a laugh, but it was better than nothing. I gestured at the incubus. “He can be our dark and smexy mascot of broodiness.”

He raised a brow in my direction, but there was a hint of amusement about him as he spoke. “My life’s aspiration, clearly. And we should probably get going. Wouldn’t want to keep the Queen waiting.”

“Eh, I’ve always rather enjoyed being fashionably late.” I picked up the violin case for Melanie, giving her a hug before clambering off the rock. “I feel like we should be leading a procession in, Pied Piper style.”

“I know just the thing.” A hint of her old self peeked through her eyes.

A moment later the first bars of “Safety Dance”
hummed from the strings. I bit my lip trying not to giggle. Together the two of us broke out in lopsided chorus as I twirled about her. Ignoring the stares of the elves, we strutted up the center of caravan, Brystion trailing behind us bemusedly.

T
he castle rose up in the distance, ensnared within the hollow heart of a massive tree. Or maybe the castle was the tree, carved into the very bark like some sort of living sculpture. I wasn’t sure what I had been expecting. Something out of Camelot, maybe. Towering spires of pearlescent ivory and frosted sugar–pane windows. But the wild twining of the tree trunks suggested a different story altogether, its dark and feral beauty threatening to swallow me up into a prison of sap and rotting vegetation.

Melanie and I had woven in and out of the procession with various levels of nervousness and hysterical laughter. At one point we were joined by Phineas, who insisted on reciting bawdy haiku. Still, it was my only defense mechanism left, the knowledge of what was at stake taking root in my mouth until my tongue was only a desiccated lump. And now, here we were, approaching the very heart of Faerie itself.

Around me, the elves shed the visage of their Glamours, taking on a wilder countenance of their own, everything about them sharper and paler, the magic nearly seeping from their skin. My eyes blurred with it, and I felt as though
I were an elephant shuffling through a bounding herd of deer.

Before long we were at the front of the procession, the line halted at the massive gate of thorns barring the path. Talivar and Moira dismounted from their horses. If there was any sense of impatience about them, I couldn’t tell, my vision lost in the appearance of the nearly four-foot-long spikes blocking our passage as far as I could see. The elves both seemed taller than I remembered, with eyes slanted high and wild. Talivar’s hair had come loose and the tattered edges of my amateur chop job framed his face in a dark tangle.

I didn’t quite look at Melanie, but her presence at my side was a welcoming shadow of mortality. I would have hidden in it if I could have. The weight of Faerie pressed upon me with a terrible certainty.

“The Queen has sealed the entryway,” Talivar said, his voice soft. “A sacrifice is required to pass.”

“That sounds reassuring,” I muttered, getting awfully tired at the Fae woman’s paranoia. Maybe it was unfair considering her kingdom was about to be invaded, but all these little trials seemed like a big waste of time given our own situation.

Moira gave me a wan smile. “It requires a drop of blood from each person who passes.” Her eyes flicked to where Brystion stood. “Although it would normally not allow the passage of daemons—”

“My blood has already been tasted by the gate,” the incubus said brusquely. “It knows who I am.”

“Of course.” To me and Melanie, she gestured at a tiny thorn midway up the first branch, very much like where a lock might be on a normal door. “Simply place a finger here and the gate will allow you to pass.”

“If I fall asleep for a thousand years, I’m counting on one
of you to come to the rescue.” I’d intended it as a joke, but the elves merely stared at me as though it might very well be an option. Shuddering, I watched as one of the elvish guards stepped forward and removed her gauntlet, her hand nimbly snaking forward. She didn’t even flinch as the thorn pricked her and I began to wonder if this was merely a formality after all. The thorns parted to allow her passage and she slipped easily through the curving vines without even snagging her cloak.

I glanced down at my own dress and shook my head. If I didn’t manage to somehow trip over my own feet and hurdle headlong into the thing it would be a small miracle. I allowed myself to be jostled aside as the body of the dead Protectorate was brought through, her shrouded form a clear reminder of why I was there.

Don’t be such a pussy, Abby.
I straightened, watching as the cart was allowed to pass without incident. “She has paid her price,” Melanie murmured beside me. She bound up her violin in its case as we waited. “I’d rather not see what happens if I get blood on the wood.”

“Probably a good idea.” Phineas nudged me with his horn. “Pick me up. I can’t reach the thing.”

“Guess the Fae don’t believe in pet doors.”

“Everyone’s a comedian.” He scrambled into my arms when I stooped down. “See if I do you any favors later on.”

Stretching out a dainty hoof, Phineas scraped his foreleg on the thorn lock, hissing at the streak of scarlet marring his perfect white coat. I followed suit, refusing to be cowed by a giant plant.

As my finger brushed the point, I stiffened, the pain sharp and sudden, lancing down my arm. Immediately a burning heat swelled along my fingers, a deep pull as the thorn absorbed the blood. I had the distinct impression it would happily suck me dry if I continued to stand there, and
I jerked my hand away, surprised at how deep the point had gone.

Clenching my hand into a fist, I shifted Phin in my arms, the vines slithering open to reveal a tunnel. I smiled at Talivar, trying not to let my uncertainty show. “I’ll meet you on the other side.” I could feel Ion’s eyes burning into my back, but I resisted the urge to look at him, ducking under the brushy overhang.

It went quickly, the thorns parting as I stepped forward and then closing at my passage. In the murky depths I saw the white gleam of bone, an empty grin of a skull hanging upon a thorn like a teacup. “Looks like someone didn’t have permission.” Phineas’s ears flattened. “This place always gives me the creeps.”

“I’m surprised they’re even afraid the daemons could get through, frankly. Faerie seems to have its own protections.”

He gave an equine shrug, nipping at my bodice. “Fire still works. As do chainsaws,” he added. “Or iron. The advances of your world have changed the balance among the paths. It makes them uncomfortable.”

“I’m just the messenger.” I hopped over a large root, my boots grinding against the bark. “But I guess I can understand it. Suppose they haven’t brought in firearms yet?”

He snuffled into my shoulder. “No. They don’t work too well here. Something about the firing mechanism doesn’t allow for them. Yet.”

“Small favors.” Up ahead, a burst of light signaled what I could only assume was the exit. Sure enough the vines split open and I emerged into a large clearing, the other elves standing at attention, their crystalline gazes spearing me. I blinked at the rush of sunlight, and carefully set down the unicorn.

A heartbeat later revealed Brystion shouldering his way through the hedge, his dark eyes finding me almost immediately. My heart lurched at his beauty, but I told it to shut up.

“Why can’t I quit you?” I muttered. For all my fine words to Talivar, the truth was that I wasn’t over him.

As though he could sense my thoughts, the incubus approached me, his face unreadable. “Did it hurt? Getting pricked?”

Volumes of innuendo in
that
particular statement.

Before I could answer he took my hand, turning it over to run a careful finger over the now-clotting wound. “Shall I kiss it and make it better?” He raised it to his lips, his gaze never leaving mine as the faintest hint of gold flared to life around the dark pupils. I willed myself not to react, but a small whimper escaped me anyway.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because you’re taken,” Talivar said coolly, brushing a stray leaf from his shoulder. I jerked my hand back, flushing hot. The elven prince stepped in front of me. He and Brystion were nearly the same height and the two men sized each other up with a simple nod.