Beguiled (11 page)

“I get it,” Maggie interrupted, with a wary look around her. Ailish was so excited now, she was beginning to draw stares from the crowd. “I’ll talk to Culhane about this as soon as—”

Ailish’s smile disappeared. “The Chieftain will not approve,” she said.

Oh, Maggie knew that better than anyone. And she wasn’t really looking forward to the argument she was sure would be coming. Still, if she was going to do this, she was going to have to start somewhere. Might as well be with this decision.

“Yes, but he’s not Queen, is he?” Maggie said.

The line moved again and she thought,
A miracle!
Only the one man ahead of her and she could sign her papers and get out of there. Her stomach rumbled and she silently promised it a giant cookie from Carrie Hanover’s diner as soon as she was free of this miserable place.

“So you will decree this?” Ailish sounded as if she wanted to believe, but needed convincing. “I may tell my sisters that a change is coming?”

“Yeah,” Maggie said, feeling powerful and generous. And it was a logical move as well. Why should they be wasting highly trained fighters? Why shouldn’t they go into battle alongside the men if that’s what they wanted? Worked for Israel’s military.

“Tell them,” Maggie said. “I’ll get to Otherworld as soon as I can, talk to Culhane and then I’ll make it official.”

Ailish bowed deeply, then in a blink, shifted out of the DMV, leaving a few startled people shaking their heads and rubbing their eyes. Thankfully, since they were probably close to brain-dead from all the waiting, they would most likely convince themselves that they were simply seeing things. Maggie knew this because a few weeks ago, she would have done the same thing.

But then it was Maggie’s turn at the counter and she was so pleased, she didn’t care what anyone else was thinking. She laid her paperwork down, leaned her forearms on the counter and looked into the eyes of a Fae wearing a red headband with a pinecone decoration stuck to the side of it.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” Maggie muttered. “Please tell me you actually work here and I don’t have to go wait in another line.”

“Of course I work here,” the Fae snapped irritably. Her glamour was that of a sixty-something woman with frown lines carved deeply into her cheeks. Her silver eyes looked tired and her lipstick was bleeding into the creases on her upper lip. “What? You think I’m just sitting here for my health?”

She picked up Maggie’s paperwork, flipped through it, made a couple of notes and said, “Thirty-seven bucks. Cash, credit or check?”

“Cash,” Maggie said, and counted out the money. Funny, she’d never really thought about the fact that maybe some Fae had to work for a living. She’d just assumed they all lived in Otherworld and only came over to this dimension for fun and games. She handed the money over. The woman took it with crabbed hands, gave back her change and when Maggie moved to take it, the Fae grabbed her hand and held on.

“Hey!”

“I’m Cree-An,” she said, her voice low and fast.

“Cree-An?” Maggie flipped back through her memories and pulled out the nugget of information she needed. Culhane had told her about these guys. “Oh yeah. You guys are death screamers. Like banshee, right?”

The Fae snorted. “The Cree-An are
nothing
like those Irish howlers. But not the point,” she said. “And not what I wanted to talk to you about. I just want to warn you that you’re in danger.”

“Duh.”
Maggie stared at her for a long moment. “Just since I’ve been here, I’ve been bugged by a stray demon and a Gray Man. Not like danger is a big surprise for me right now.”

The Fae refused to release Maggie’s hand. “I’m not talking about these rogue Fae or the pesky demons. . . .”

Pesky?

“I’m talking about Mab,” she said, her grip on Maggie’s hand tightening until it felt as if she were crushing the bones to powder.

Just the mention of the former queen’s name made Maggie feel a little twitchy.

“Not like Mab’s dead, you know. She’s not. She’s just out of the way. Doesn’t mean she’s gonna stay that way.” The Fae leaned in closer, gave a quick glance around, then whispered, “Word is, some of the rogue Fae are planning on busting her out of that dimension and bringing her back into ours. They pull that off, you’re the first one Mab’s going after.”

A sense of dread dropped into the pit of Maggie’s stomach and felt like a couple hundred cold steel balls that rolled around clacking into one another. “Why are you bothering to warn me?”

“You did us a favor. Kept the banshee out of North America.” She shuddered and released Maggie’s hand. “They give me the solid creeps and that’s a fact.”

Amazing. One screaming harbinger of death put off by another. Well, it took all kinds.

“All I’m saying is, watch your back.” Then she slid Maggie’s paperwork toward her and said, “Here’s your temporary renewal. You’ll get the permanent one in a few weeks.”

The Fae looked beyond her and shouted, “Next!” Then she slid one last glance at Maggie. “Oh, and Merry Christmas.”

Ho ho ho.

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Chapter Six

Casia had its own beauty.

Harsh and barren at first glance, there was also a stark grandeur to the continent at the far reaches of Otherworld. Snow and ice ruled here, with vicious winds and churning seas battering at the land mass continuously. White-topped mountains speared into the sky and in the valleys below, the twin suns of the Fae dimension shone brilliantly down on the villages sprawled across the frozen landscape.

The worst of the rogue Fae lived here. Those who had, eons ago, sentenced themselves to an eternity of banishment. These Fae had committed crimes both against Otherworld and the mortal world and Mab herself had ordered their punishment. To be kept separate from the inhabitants of Otherworld by a shield of power. Here they lived out their eternities and for the most part, accepted their fates. Some had even, over eons, earned their way back into Fae society. But there were those who would never leave Casia. Those who were not to be trusted. Ever.

Like the Dullahan. They were the things of nightmares. The source of terrifying legends handed down through generations of humans and told over campfires, the Dullahan were interested only in destruction for the sheer, wild joy they derived from the act. They hunted, they killed and if given the chance, would only rain down misery on any creature in their path.

Culhane wiped blood from the blade of his sword and tossed his windblown hair out of his eyes to stare at Quinn when he materialized beside him. Already, the six Fae Warriors had battled the Dullahan for hours, but the beasts refused to be turned back. Instead, the creatures clung to the hope of escape.

Culhane had known that this would be a hard fight, but took only the five warriors with him because he’d believed that the Dullahan had only begun to foment their rebellion. But the beasts were greater in number than he had anticipated and he and his warriors had been forced to fight like madmen.

The howling, icy wind sliced into him as it pushed past, carrying away the nearly overpowering stench of blood that filled his nostrils. Culhane’s blood was still pumping hard and his heart jolting in his chest. Flashes of recent memories staggered through his mind. The beasts swooping down at the warriors from out of the sky. The Dullahan’s ability to fly had seriously hampered the warriors’ efforts to quell the uprising. But they had evened out the odds by shifting in and out of position, appearing astride the beasts, and then below them.

The other denizens of Casia had kept to their homes, not wanting to be caught in the middle of the battle, which had been a lucky break for the warriors. In this icy prison, one inmate rarely considered risking his own neck for another. And the Dullahan had no friends among the Fae.

Thankfully. If the Dullahan had gotten any support from the others imprisoned here, the battle might have turned out differently.

“McCulloch?” Culhane demanded, needing to know how the other warriors had fared. The last time he’d seen McCulloch, the huge warrior had been hanging from the neck of a Dullahan in midflight, slicing at its throat with his blade.

“Well.” Quinn turned his face into the bitter wind. “Mac shifted to safety before the beast fell.” Then he glanced down at the fallen Dullahan lying around them. “It was a good fight.”

“A hard one, but perhaps it will be enough to quell any burgeoning thoughts of uprisings,” Culhane said, following his friend’s gaze.

The enemy wasn’t dead, he knew. But the beasts were broken. It would take some time for them to gather their strength before another attempt at a revolution.

Broken bodies of the beasts lay around them on the snow, blood staining the pristine white with a nearly obscene splatter. One or two of the wounded beasts screamed in pain and thrashed at the ground as if trying to escape their own broken bodies.

Eyes gritty with the blowing snow, Culhane studied them, mentally trying to find a way to describe them to Maggie. They were a bit like horses, he thought, though they were the size of small cars. Their coats weren’t just black, but were the absolute absence of light. A black so deep it was as if midnight had turned in on itself, swallowing the very stars to become a darkness that devoured whatever it touched.

The beasts boasted huge, leathery wings with a span twice the size of their own bodies. When they flew in on an attack, the heavy thump of those wings against the air chilled the blood almost as much as a glimpse of the long, jagged teeth they used to tear the flesh of their prey. Dullahan hooves were sharp as knives and their strength . . . formidable.

Fatigue pulled at him. Culhane felt rivulets of blood trailing down his own body, and knew that the pains and aches shrieking in his bones would ease soon enough. For now, he had to gather his warriors, then make further plans. If the Dullahan revolted, there might be others just biding their time, waiting for a chance to move on the Queen’s forces. He needed to face Maggie with all of this. Make her see that now was the time to pick up her new responsibilities and embrace them.

“Have you seen the others?” Culhane shifted his gaze to the nearby village, where already the Fae who lived there were staggering outside to witness the damage done in the battle.

“Fine, all of them,” Quinn said with a shrug of his broad shoulders. “O’Hara was burned when one of the bastards hit him with a stream of fire. But he will recover. Muldoon took a hoof down his back, but repaid the Dullahan in kind.” He smiled grimly. “There’s one of our enemies that won’t be thinking of escape for quite some time.”

“Good.” The beast at his feet roared and stirred, as if trying to rise for another attack. Culhane leaped into action. Straddling the beast’s neck, he grabbed hold of the long, matted mane and yanked its head around until he was staring into its flaming red eyes.

“Hear me,” Culhane muttered, his voice deep, nearly lost in the moan of the rising wind, yet even more compelling because he refused to shout. “You’ve seen what a handful of warriors can do to your herd. Sow more seeds of rebellion against your Queen and I will bring the full force of the Warrior clan down on your heads.”

The Dullahan shrieked, lunged, its huge teeth snapping shut mere inches from Culhane’s leg. Then it struggled to pull away, refusing to give quarter even though it was grievously wounded. But Culhane held on, his grip tightening, his gaze locked on his prisoner’s. “I am Culhane. You know of me?”

The beast’s eyes wheeled and it shuddered in his grasp. “Good. Then tell your brothers. This ends here or you will all die. Immortal or not, the Warrior clan will slice your brethren into so many pieces, it will take centuries for the Dullahan to heal. You made your attempt,” he added, giving the beast’s head a push into the ground. “You failed. Continue on this path at your own peril.”

Straightening up, fury still blazing in his eyes, he turned to look at Quinn. Seeing approval in his old friend’s gaze, Culhane nodded grimly. “This task is done. Gather the others and let us leave this icy pit.”

They shifted together as a group and the cold wind blew across their footprints in the snow, eradicating even the memory of their presence.