A Sliver of Shadow (42 page)

Panic flooded my brain, even as my body decided it kind of liked it. He trapped my arms above my head, his mouth nipping hot and hard down my neck.
Betrayer!
My inner voice shrieked at me, ignoring the way my hips began to sway beneath him. I blinked, realizing he was using that particular seductive power of an incubus, my skin burning with a fierce hunger in return.

And that hurt worst of all.

Blearily, I climbed out of the lust-induced fog sweltering over my brain that commanded me to submit before him. The urge to slide to my knees, take his cock into my mouth, to open myself wide to his pleasure thrummed sharp and urgent. Would we TouchStone again? The thought nearly made me laugh, but instead I let out a groan, arching toward him.

His own breath came in soft gasps, and the erection trapped between the folds of my skirt wasn’t any sort of Glamour. I uttered a low cry when he mouthed my breast, chafing between his lips and the linen chemise.

“Goddess, I’ve missed this,” he muttered. “So fucking hungry.”

Lust wrapped itself over my flesh like a ribbon. His doing? Mine? “I can’t do this, Ion. Not here. Not like this.”

“I know.” He gritted his teeth as though he fought his own inner battle. “Struggle for me and make it look real.”

A harsh laugh split the quiet of the forest, jerking me out of my hazed thoughts before I could answer. I stiffened, trying to peer over Brystion’s shoulder. The incubus held me back, one hand upon my neck, ignoring my protest. His ears flattened as he turned around, a chilly smile gracing his features. The gold of his eyes had damped down to an obsidian darkness.

I caught the glimpse of a shadowed face and slick scales past the ebony fall of Ion’s hair.

Daemons. A shitload of them.

A hysterical shriek bubbled up in my throat and I actually tried to pull away in earnest, my ardor slamming like a pit of oil into my belly. Where was Talivar?

“Do you mind?” Brystion’s voice dropped into growling purr, his tail lashing from side to side. “I’m not in the habit of sharing.”

“Who said anything about sharing?” The one in front gave me an appreciative leer. “We’ll watch you shag her and when you’re done, we’ll take her off your hands.” The daemon bared his teeth. “And in return we let you go. Seems fair, doesn’t it?” His voice became sly. “Unless, of course, you were to know anything about this Door here. Odd that it seems to be active when the rest of them aren’t.”

Brystion’s hand pressed across my mouth to muffle my cry of alarm.

“Frankly, I don’t give a shit why the hell you think we’re here.” He was stalling and the realization hit me like a slap to the face. How well had those ears heard them coming? He hadn’t even thought to warn me and I could only assume that was to make his seduction of me look at real as possible. The fact that I had apparently given into him with barely a thought flooded me with shame.

The daemons snarled something rude, but Brystion turned his back on them as though he truly didn’t care, warning in his eyes. The thick, meaty hand of a daemon snatched at his shoulder. “And I don’t think you realize the situation you’re in. This here area is off limits.” His eyes wandered over me again. “And we’re taking you into custody.”

Anger coursed through me. “You’re not even supposed to be here. Last I checked, this was Faerie … not Hell. Though
it certainly smells like it,” I sniffed, waving my hand in front of my nose, ignoring Ion’s warning grunt.

I ducked when I saw the clawed hand aiming for my face, half expecting it. Not quite fast enough. The claws snarled my hair and yanked me back.

“Well, now,” the daemon rumbled, staring at my breasts. “Isn’t that interesting?” A sharp tug on my neck and I realized he’d found the Key, still glowing with its recent use.

Beside me, Brystion lowered his head, the glittering points of his antlers eye level with the daemon. “I suggest you let her go,” he said softly.

“Or what?” The daemon’s hand strolled down my shoulders with a lazy motion, even as he gestured with his head at the others to flank him. “
I
suggest you move along. If this is what I think it is, then my job suddenly got much easier.” A ripping sound and I realized he’d shredded the front of my gown. I ground my teeth even as I flushed, my breasts suddenly exposed to their leers. “Think she’ll service my men first, though. After all, we need her alive … not in one piece.”

“Freeze,” Brystion barked. Dimly I became aware of a high-pitched whistle. A fleshy thud and the daemon let out a low wheeze, his hands slacking upon my waist. I ducked behind the incubus as two more arrows sledged into the daemon’s head.

“Talivar,” I shouted, unthinking. Had he seen the incubus and me?

The other daemons paused, the largest one letting out a grim chuckle. “The Crippled Prince has killed our lieutenant,” snarled the closest one. “The Fae have made the first shot.”

The hum of challenge burst from behind us, a clarion call of power that made my ears ache. “Oh, shit.”

We’d just declared war.

I
n an instant I was in Brystion’s arms and we were bounding toward Talivar. The tall elf let loose round after round, deadly shafts buying us a little time. Behind us, the silver pull of the CrossRoads snapped away and the Door faded. With our cover blown we couldn’t possibly go through—not if we didn’t want to lead the entire contingent of daemons straight into the Barras.

Not to mention a few of the fuckers had pulled out their axes and started chopping at the woven tree branches that had made up the frame.

“Bitches,” Brystion swore.

I held the scrap of my dress above my naked breasts as best I could, trying to ignore the heated flush of my cheeks. Talivar wasn’t paying any attention to me at all, which was probably for the best, given that the daemons were clearly lining up for some sort of attack.

He gestured at Ion. “Get her behind us. There’s an empty bear den you can take shelter in. The body of the boy is not too far from it.”

“Dead?” The last flare of hope I’d had dribbled away. “What are we going to do?”

The elf’s mouth tightened as he eyed his quickly emptying quiver. “Try to find another way out.”

“But that’s—”

“We don’t have time for this,” the incubus snapped, scooping me up and heading for the woods, ignoring my feeble struggles with an air of impatience. The heat from his ebony skin was blistering against my hands. “You’re distracting him and there’s no sense in making us a bigger target. Besides,” he added smugly, “I think the cavalry is at hand. It would seem Kitsune has tossed her hat into the ring, after all.”

A high-pitched cackle sailed past me, the velvet wings of hundreds of pixies filling the air until we were nearly swimming through a sea of flower petals. One of them grinned at me as it sailed past, displaying a set of tiny fangs.

“What the hell can they do?” I muttered. “They’re so small …”

Ion slid into the cover of a fallen tree and we peered through the branches, watching in awe as the pixies swarmed over the daemons, falling upon them in a flurry of tiny teeth and toothpick swords. It was strangely effective. And bloody.

The daemons retreated, unable to attack such small enemies with any real accuracy, and most of them were getting a sharp stick in the eye for their troubles. It seemed almost comical, their arms flapping in sudden panic. And yet I was struck by how easily the pixies were able to get through their defenses. How much stronger would the Fae be as a whole if they all worked together?

Talivar watched impassively as the group was driven off. With a limping stride, he loped toward us, finding us easily enough when Brystion whistled low. Crouching down, he stared at my tattered dress and then exhaled in a ragged breath. “They’ll be back.”

“Reinforcements,” I said. “And I’m guessing the pixies won’t be able to hold them for long.”

He shook his head. “Not a chance. They had the element of surprise here, but now that the daemons know what they’re up against, they’ll take steps.”

“What about Tresa’s son?” A lump filled my throat.

“Aye. He’s been dead for a while. There’s not much left of him, but I’ll see him properly buried.”

“Do we have time for that?” Ion sniffed the wind, blowing out as though he tasted something bad.

“We’ll put him in the cave,” Talivar said. “I cannot simply leave him here; he deserves better. We have a bit of time.”

“Until what?” I wondered aloud.

He didn’t answer me, moving past us with his head bowed slightly. “Come here,” he said, taking my hand. Our fingers entwined, tight and hard, as though he were absorbing my flesh through his. Leading us down a gentle slope, he paused at the bottom, the leaves crackling beneath our feet.

“There.” He gestured to the prone form of a child curled into a fetal position, half buried beneath a hollow log.

I knelt down beside the lifeless boy. His skin was waxen and soft in places, like the rotting edges of an overripe fruit, but his face retained a terrible innocence, pale eyes reflecting a glassy confusion. I choked back a sob, sliding the ruff of red-gold hair from his forehead. The chill of his death ran like the prickle of ants’ feet upon my fingertips.

“What did he die of?”

“I don’t know,” Talivar said, his voice thick. “But I suspect it’s the same as what the Queen suffers.” He pulled up the threadbare remains of a sleeve, revealing thick scratches scoring the boy’s arms. On closer observation, I noticed the ragged fingernails, the rust of dried blood beneath them.

“They poisoned him,” I said, tears burning hot. Had it been exposure to whatever his mother had been working with? Or perhaps Maurice had ordered it done to keep Tresa pliant, or to find a cure … or any number of things. It made no difference. A child was dead.

“Give me your knife.” I held out my hand without looking up. He hesitated for the barest of moments before unsheathing his smaller dagger and pressing it into my palm. If he had any inkling as to what I meant to do, he said nothing as I sliced off a lock of the boy’s hair.

Talivar was right. We couldn’t take him with us, but some part of me wanted to take this small bit, if only to prove that he’d been alive, that he’d had a voice in the world.

Clutching the hair tightly, I handed the dagger to Talivar. He gave me a nod of approval, but there was nothing particularly happy about the motion.

“The den is over here. It’s been abandoned for at least a season.”

Brystion followed us in silence, his dark eyes thoughtful. Together, he and Talivar cleared a bit of space and gently laid the body into the shallow hole, collapsing it when he was fully entombed. It wasn’t much of a grave, but it would have to do. At least the woods were peaceful enough, and he’d be covered shortly by a blanket of golden leaves.

Small comforts.

“What will we tell Tresa?” I said finally, breaking the silence. In the distance I could hear the sound of drums. The daemons would be on the move soon. “I doubt she’ll give us the antidote now.”

“If there even was one.” Brystion glanced down at the hair still woven through my fingers. “We should get out of here before those fuckers come back.”

The prince shook his head. “We’re not going to be able to outrun them. There’s an entire encampment of the bastards
over the far ridge. Which is the only way out of this valley, by the way,” he added dryly. “Short of scaling a few mountain peaks—and none of us is dressed for that sort of snow.”

His mouth tightened and he ducked below the branches of a fallen tree. “The Key must not be allowed to fall into their hands.”

His words stung, even though I knew he was right. Lover or not, TouchStone or not, at the moment I was merely a commodity and a resource.
And quite possibly the only way we had to get out of here in one piece,
my inner voice reminded me.

“Surely, there has to be another way. Another Door?”

“They won’t be easy to find without the CrossRoads open,” Talivar said, snapping his fingers. “But there’s a set of old ruins further down the hillside … they’ve been around forever. If there was ever a place for a Door, that would be it, though I suspect it’s been closed for some time.” His gaze lingered at my neck. “It could be that the Key would convince it to open.”

“It’s worth a shot,” I said.

He exhaled sharply, sliding his fingers through the sweaty fall of his hair. “All right. Let’s get moving, then. I don’t think we’ve got much time left.”

The calls of the daemons rang out nearby, their great feet tromping through the golden leaves signifying they were on the hunt. Without another word, Brystion hoisted me up. “Hold on to me as tightly as you can.”

I wrapped my legs about his waist and my arms around his shoulders. It seemed a bit obscene, honestly, but I was a bit past caring. A pixie fluttered by, bowing to Talivar, its voice a hissing sibilance I couldn’t understand.

The prince nodded at the little thing. “He’s taking his people and leaving. They’ve done all they can do and there’s
a sorcerer at the daemon camp. He doesn’t want to lead his people into death.”

“At least ask him if he knows anything about the ruins or the Door.” I was all for exploring, but given the time constraints, prudence dictated we find the way sooner rather than later.