Entasy (Prophecies of The Nine) (2 page)
Roan, my most faithful servant, entered the room as most fae do…silently. "My lord, the scouts checked in and around the wedge tomb as you asked, but were unable to find what you inquired about. Shall I send them into the city to meet the others, or order them home?"
The candles flickered as I walked past my butler on the way towards the chamber room. My home in New York was palatial, but it did not compare to my castle in Ireland. I was, however, resigned to staying here until I concluded my business.
"Send them to New York to meet up with the rest of the horde…and, Roan? Tell them if they fail me a second time, I will feed them to the changelings." He left the room abruptly as I faded to the only place that brought me any peace, the oubliette in the castle where I kept my most valuable possession.
I began to reminisce about the treasure that was no longer in my possession. I had waited two centuries for any sign that she was among us, but I always received the same results from the scouts–she was no longer in this realm and she’d gone into the fade. They even claimed to have found a cairn near Giants Causeway dedicated to my beautiful Aednat. I walked over to the dungeon wall and ran my hand along the rough, grey stone, remembering the day she had come to me.
My guards found her beyond the castle walls and brought her to me as a gift. At the time, I rejected her and ordered them to take her to the dungeon to let the changlings feed off of her. I had no idea what gift they had actually presented to me until she nearly brought down my home with her talents. My beauty managed to take out a few of my favorite warriors before she was brought back to me bloody and beaten. The mere sight of her heightened my desire, and I knew from that moment on that I would do anything to possess her.
The razor sharp barbs at the bottom of the dungeon floor had done quite a bit of damage to her flawless beauty. Her alabaster skin was matted with crimson, which made her look like a peasant, but I knew she was so much more. I had never forgotten the look in her aventurine green eyes when she claimed that she would kill me someday. Ah, the vitality and passion in her words. Even now, the thought of her made my cock twitch with anticipation. To have her raven hair splayed before me will once again be my greatest conquest. Two centuries had passed, but I could still remember the sound of her voice when she cried out. I could not wait to hear those same screams when I had her in my bed once again. Maybe this time she would willingly accept me and not force me to sedate her strength with the tonic.
The booted steps on the stone floor behind me changed my focus back to the now. "What do you have to report, Gavin?"
Gavin walked closer but stood at a distance, which was usually a wise choice when delivering undesirable messages. "I found her, Sire, but she is not as you described. The female I found has the green eyes you spoke of, but her hair is not dark, Sire; it’s red. I do not believe she is the female you have been searching for."
Unable to contain my anger, I said, "I did not ask you to track her to discover the color of her hair. I did, however, ask you to find out if she was human or enchanted. Did you manage to find that out in your surveillance?"
"Yes, Sire. There is something unique about her. I have been entering her dreams, and she knew that I was there."
I abruptly turned to face Gavin. "So my attempts to connect with her have been working. It is her in the dreams." A wicked smile crept across my face.
Not much longer now, my precious treasure.
"When will you be bringing her home to me then, Gavin?" My impatience was beginning to show as my dark fae half began to surface. The fanged beasts I contained within myself were begging for release, begging to taste the blood of the one who dared to anger me. Gavin watched as the beasts swirled around me.
"I am not certain, Sire; she is always surrounded by humans, and without risking exposure…" Gavin’s next words were spoken on his knees. "…tonight, Sire. Tonight she will be home with you."
I dragged Gavin to his feet by the collar of his shirt, and tamed the shadows that threatened to choke the life out of him. "Very well. That is a much better answer." Gavin bowed his head in acknowledgment as we faded back to the house just outside of New York. Walking past the drawing room, I could not help but feel disdain. The fact that I had to be in this place was exasperating. This house was so meager compared to my home in Northern Ireland, but for now it served as the base of operations while we searched for my lost treasure.
"I have one more task for you, Gavin." I removed the pyrite ring from my left ring finger and placed it carefully into Gavin’s hand. "Make sure this ring is placed in her room. Out of sight, but somewhere she can find it."
"Liam, I am afraid that you are sending the wrong commander for this job." Layne's raspy tone shifted my attention.
I watched as Layne, my only female commander, walked into my office. Layne was a tall, slender female with short, cropped golden hair, and curves to compliment her looks. She was perfection: as a woman and as a fighter. No one would ever suspect that she was a vicious demon warrior who could change a human’s emotions with a mere touch.
"This job requires finesse, and let’s face it. Six-foot four-inch demons with tribal tattoos tend to draw the wrong kind of attention–the kind of attention that keeps your treasure just outside your grasp."
I grinned at her arrogance.
"You may be right, Layne. I may indeed be sending the wrong fighter to do the job. Did you have a better plan, my pet?"
"No!" Gavin pushed past Layne to stand before me. "Sire, let me finish what I have started. I only returned here to report my progress. I will not fail you again."
I walked to the wet bar, poured a glass of Cognac, and sipped it slowly, contemplating my dilemma. "Layne, follow Gavin back to New York. If he fails to succeed, which I suspect he will, make sure you bring me back what I want, or you too will pay a hefty price. Are you both clear about my expectations?"
They both agreed in unison before they faded out of my office. I tossed back the last of my drink and looked at the clock in the corner.
Hours, my beauty…hours until you are once again mine.
Screaming and unable to take a deep breath, I frantically sat up and looked around the room. I quickly realized this was just another one of my nightmares. I wasn’t actually surrounded by a wall of flames, and winged creatures were not scratching and clawing at my arms. I took a few deep breaths and looked at the alarm clock. I cursed it out loud for its inability to keep me on my normal, well-established schedule.
I flipped off the covers and headed towards the bathroom to splash some water on my face. I leaned against the bathroom cabinet and stared at my reflection, thinking that everyone might have been right about how drained I looked. At this rate, I was going to need theatrical makeup to cover up these dark circles. I had no idea why I was having such horrific dreams. Hell, it had been like living in a Freddy Krueger movie. The moment you fell asleep, you was screwed. I wasn’t sure how much more of this I could take. I was afraid to lie down anymore, but I needed some friggin’ rest.
I padded to the kitchen, popped a K-cup into the slot, and waited the sixty seconds it took for my coffee to brew. I sure missed Vivi being around. She was always the first one up, and always had a little mini-breakfast waiting for the next person to rise and shine. I grabbed the creamer out of the fridge and couldn’t help but smile at my smartass brother’s subtle joke. He had pinned a 4 x 6 snapshot of one of their wedding photos to the fridge with a "suck it" magnet.
He so needs counseling.
My brother Tynan was a true smartass with an incredible sense of humor, while his long-time girlfriend Genevieve was the calm, sensible one. We had all wondered over the years how someone so level-headed and book-smart like Vivi could be with a jokester like Ty, but their connection to one another was undeniable
They had tied the knot a few weeks ago. God only knew what took them so long to finally get hitched, but at least now they were official. Two more years and they would have been common law for crying out loud. There was only one day and a wake up until they returned from their honeymoon in Ireland, and then the noise level and the normalcy of the everyday would make all this nightmare crap alright.
I glanced at the clock as I headed to the bathroom.
Shit. I need to get my ass in gear.
I wearily turned on the shower and waited for the steam to build. A shiver ran up my spine as I remembered the words the creature had used. "Kylah, it’s time for you to come home."
Note to self–go to the bookstore and get a book about dream interpretation.
The shower felt fantastic, and I wished I could have lingered in the warmth of the water for a little longer, but alas, time was not on my side this morning.
I quickly did my makeup, threw my hair up in a ponytail, and got dressed. All I needed now were shoes and I would be out the door. My cell phone rang as I grabbed my boots out of the closet. I knew exactly who was going to be on the other end of that call, and I was not looking forward to hearing anyone yell at me at the moment. I shoved my feet into my boots and sighed as I took one last look in the mirror above the entryway table. Yes, I was going to be late again, but it wasn’t like anyone was going to die over not having their costumes hemmed. I grabbed my coat and hit the answer button on the phone as I locked the front door.
"Good morning to you, too, Jake." I rolled my eyes as I listened to the diatribe that followed.
My assistant liked to use the names of his favorite designers and today it was "Dior." The fact that I did not call him by the correct name had now derailed the original intent of this entire call. I hit the elevator button and waited while "Dior" carried on about the dresses and the actors who all needed something specific done to their costumes.
When the doors opened, I paused briefly before I stepped into the elevator. Normally, the elevator was packed, but today there was a gentleman casually leaning against the back wall reading the front page of The New York Times. "Morning," I said as he nodded. He was tall, fairly attractive, and wearing a faded black leather coat. There was nothing particularly menacing about the man, but the tattoo that appeared to creep out of the collar of his disheveled white shirt did lend itself to more of a "don’t screw with me" persona. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but there was something oddly familiar about him. I quickly dismissed my paranoia when Dior began ranting again. I stepped inside and pushed the close arrow buttons on the panel.
I could not stifle my grin as the doors closed. The spotty cell phone reception allowed me to miss most of Dior’s bitch session on the way down to the lobby. The only part I managed to hear was that if I didn’t get my ass to work soon, the lead actress was going to be late for her pedicure, and it would be my fault. "Okay, well I am on my way, and I am certain that Brooke can wait ten more minutes for me to get there. I’ve had to wait for her plenty of times." I stepped out of the elevator, and couldn’t help but feel as if the tattooed man was creeping up behind me, but when I turned to look, no one was there.
Shrugging it off, I pushed through the revolving lobby door and stepped out onto the avenue. A smile crept over my face as soon as I saw Olivia getting out of her black town car. Olivia had this uncanny ability to stop men in their tracks. She was a spoiled Italian princess, petite, with sapphire blue eyes, jet black hair, and a thick Brooklyn accent. When she walked into a room, time stopped and all eyes went to her, male or female.
It was almost as if people were struck stupid at the mere sight of her. She, however, was oblivious to anything other than her latest shopping conquest. I guess the years of being a mob boss’s daughter and having a freakishly overprotective brother could change a girl’s perspective. I thought Dillon and Tynan were overprotective, but Vincent Batianni would beat both of my brothers in that category…hands down.
"Kylah, you have got to see my new Louboutin’s…they are gorgeous!" Olivia beamed as she moved to show me her new shoes, but at the same time, a businessman walked by George, our doorman, as he was hailing a cab for another resident.
The next series of events played out like a slow motion scene in a movie. The businessman could not take his eyes off of the slit in Olivia’s skirt. As the slit moved to show most of her thigh, the poor man then tripped and bumped into Olivia’s beefcake bodyguard. Joe, aka Mr. Muscle, lost his grip on the Louis Vuitton bags in his hands and fell towards the car, bumping into Olivia. The stream of expletives from my petite little friend would have made a sailor blush. "Do you have any idea who my father is, you stupid ass mother…?" was the last sentence I heard before I turned to head in the direction of Starbucks. "See you later, Olivia. Don’t forget about Saturday night–love you!"