Ever After (15 page)

I frowned at the downturn of her mouth, the puffiness around her eyes where she'd been crying. But even more troubling was the faintness of her aura. She was even more exhausted than I'd realized; her emotions were all over the place. And when her eyes lifted and met mine, I felt another emotion—one that was so strong it overpowered the others.

Love.

But it wasn't folded in happiness; it was tinged with pain and regret and sorrow ... and fear.

I closed my eyes for a moment, feeling out her wants and desires. She loved me still. I knew it beyond a doubt, just as sure as I knew that my love for her had never faded. So why did she see things coming to an end between us before we'd even given them a chance?

She heaved a sigh, preparing herself for whatever it was she intended to impart. “I was afraid to come to you,” she announced after a long pause.

I shook my head, not understanding. “What?”

“When I came to the Here and Now,” she explained. “I was afraid you would hate me for breaking your heart. That you'd never forgive me. But there's another reason I didn't find you sooner, Gideon—” She swayed again on her feet, but held out her hand, stopping me when I instinctively stepped forward. “No. Let me finish what I have to say.”

“Arabella, lass,” I said gently, my concern for her overriding my own hurt. “I just—”

She suddenly cried out, cutting off my words as she doubled over in pain, clutching her stomach.

My heart seized in panic at the sight of her in such misery, and I closed the gap between us in an instant. “What's wrong, lass? Tell me the truth this time.”

“What the hell is going on?”

I cast a glance over my shoulder to see Merlin walking in the door, reeking of booze and sex after his long night of carousing. “Don't worry about it,” I barked. “I've got this.”

“Oh, clearly,” Merlin drawled. “She looks like shit, Gideon! What the hell have you done to her?”

Arabella cried out again and her knees buckled, but I caught her up in my arms before she hit the ground. When the wave of anguish passed, her gaze met mine. Her face was pale, clammy, and her lips were turning blue, her Tale aura thinning and growing dimmer even as I watched. My stomach plummeted when a terrifying thought struck me, and I feared I knew what mysterious ailment plagued her.

“Ah, God, no,” I moaned, emotion strangling the words, my knees nearly giving out in my sudden despondency. “No. Not that, lass. Please not that . . .”

Merlin came toward us, holding out his arms. “Let me take her, Gideon.”

I clutched her closer, the sympathy seeping into the air around Merlin serving only to fill me with rage-fueled denial. “Touch her, Merlin, and it'll be the last thing you do.”

He took a hasty step back, lifting his hands. “Your call, old boy,” he said, more pitying than offended. “But she needs medical attention.”

I ripped open a time rift in my desperation. “Then I know just where to take her.”

I
kicked the door of the French Provincial-style home with the toe of my boot, grateful that the secluded Highland Park estate prevented nosy neighbors from seeing me standing on the doorstep with a limp woman in my arms. I shifted Arabella up a little farther so that her head was resting more comfortably against my shoulder. She mumbled something incoherent in response. “It's all right, lass,” I soothed. “I've got y'now.”

I was preparing to kick the door again when it swung open. Trish Muffet's dark green gaze widened when she saw me standing there. “Gideon? Good Lord—what's happened?” She didn't wait for an answer before pulling me into the foyer of her home. She immediately took hold of Arabella's wrist, checking her pulse.

Trish was the FMA's Director of Forensics, but I knew she'd practiced medicine prior to joining the FMA and held multiple medical degrees from both the Ordinaries and the Tales. And I trusted her more than anyone else I knew. If anyone could figure out what was wrong with Arabella, I knew Trish could. She
had
to.

“Can you help her?” I demanded, panic fluttering around in my chest, making it hard to breathe.

“Bring her to the guest room.” She motioned for me to follow as she hurried down the hall toward the grand staircase that led upstairs. “I need to examine her more closely.”

“Her aura's weak, Trish,” I informed her, fear seeping into my words. My throat was tight as I almost outpaced the petite blonde in my haste to get upstairs. “If this is what I think it is . . .”

“We don't know what this is, Gideon,” she assured me, taking me to the first room at the top of the stairs. “Let's not jump to conclusions before I have a chance to examine her. I'll do everything I can for her, but you're going to have to help me, okay? I need you to answer some questions.”

I set Arabella gently on the huge four-poster bed and stepped away, making room for Trish to get to her. She sat down next to Arabella and placed a tender hand to my dear one's forehead.

“How long's she been like this?” Trish asked, lifting Arabella's lids to check her eyes briefly. She looked away before her ability to see into someone's thoughts could kick in, never one to use her talent on the living without their permission if she could help it.

I shook my head. “Dunno. I hadn't seen her in a long time. She's had a few episodes, but she blamed exhaustion ... and then she just collapsed this morning. Shit, Trish, I didn't know where else to take her.”

Trish caught the edge in my voice and twisted around to peg me with an inquisitive look. “She should be at the FMA hospital,” she said mildly, although her eyes asked a thousand questions. “They're better equipped, Gideon. I haven't practiced this kind of medicine on the living in decades.”

I ran a hand down my face, scrubbing at the stubble along my jaw, then shook my head. “Can't take her there.” When Trish's eyes narrowed at me, I borrowed a phrase from Arabella herself: “It's complicated.”

“What's doin', doll? I thought you were joining me.”

Trish and I both turned toward the bedroom door, where Trish's husband, Nicky Blue, stood wearing nothing but a towel, his hair still wet from a shower. It was then that I realized Trish was dressed in only a bathrobe. Obviously, my unexpected arrival had derailed some rather personal plans.

Nicky jerked his chin at me. “ 'Sup, Tiny?”

“My apologies for dropping in unexpectedly,” I muttered. “But I needed Trish.”

Nicky's brows shot up. “That so?”

“This woman—” Trish sent a glance my way.

“Arabella,” I filled in.

“Arabella is a
friend
of Gideon's, Nicky, and she needs my help.”

Nicky gave a curt nod. “Good enough for me.” He strolled in and peered down at Arabella, then turned a concerned frown on his wife. “You okay to take this on, though, doll?”

Trish's hand instinctively went to her belly, and belatedly I realized the reason for Nicky's worry.

Trish nodded, her lips curving into a smile as Nicky pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I'll be fine; the morning sickness isn't bad today. Besides, Gideon can't take Arabella to the hospital. And we can't turn him away.”

Nicky lifted his eyes, his knowing gaze meeting mine. Having made his fortune as head of a very lucrative Tale crime syndicate, Nicky certainly understood the occasional need for discretion. “You let me know if there's anything you need, Tiny. We'll do everything we can to help your friend. You know that.”

I nodded, grateful as always for the friendship I'd managed to form with the couple. They were as much a part of my family now as the Seelies. I would've laid down my life for either of them without hesitation, and I had no doubt they would've done the same for me.

Nicky gave me a reassuring clap on the shoulder before bending down to murmur in his wife's ear and press a kiss to her cheek. The look she gave him in return was so filled with love that I had to glance away, my heart constricting with the knowledge that one of the only women who'd ever looked at me that way now lay unconscious.

I took a few steps back, giving Trish plenty of room to conduct her examination, assisting only when Trish needed to remove Arabella's boots. The process seemed to take forever but was most likely less than five minutes. Still, I waited anxiously, chewing on the edge of my thumb as the seconds ticked by far too slowly.

Finally, Trish smoothed the hair away from Arabella's brow with a tenderness that would've won Trish to my heart if she hadn't already been as dear as a sister to me. “Is it what I think it is?” I asked, my voice little more than a dry rasp. “Is she
fading?
”

Fading
was a mysterious wasting illness and one of the most agonizing ways for a Tale to die. We'd never discovered why it happened, although we suspected it had something to do with the Ordinaries' waning interest in our stories. But that couldn't be the case with Arabella. The Robin Hood story was alive and well in the Here and Now, spawning several movies and TV series just within the last couple of decades.

Trish heaved a sigh and came over to stand before me, placing a hand on my forearm. “It looks that way,” she said softly. “But maybe it's reversible if we can find the reason behind it ... She's fighting hard.”

I brought my hands up to my face, pulling them down my features, then balled my hands into fists, rage and helplessness filling me to the point of desperation. I strode a few steps away then back again, my movements aimless. Dread pressed in upon me so heavily, I feared I might suffocate under the weight of it.

“Did you
see
anything?” I asked of Trish, desperate to know what secrets might've been revealed. “Did you find out . . .” I let my words trail off, not sure what to ask about. I didn't know Arabella anymore, not really. She'd attempted to hide her illness from me. I'd known something was wrong even before her first episode, but I'd chalked up her evasiveness to her desire to shield me from her illegal activities. Hell—who knew what else she might be hiding.

“I didn't look,” Trish told me. “I think whatever it is that lies between you should be yours alone to sort out. When she wakes up, I'll let you ask her the questions that are weighing heavy on your heart.”

I met my friend's knowing gaze. Arabella wasn't the only one hiding things. If I was going to be completely honest with myself, I'd been hiding a great deal from those who were nearest and dearest to me. Who the hell was I to judge?

“There's a lot about me you don't know, Trish,” I said, “things about my past that I've never shared with you.”

She gave me a knowing grin. “Oh, I don't know ... I've probably figured out more than you realize.”

My eyes narrowed, trying to read her, wondering if she'd used her ability on me at some point in the years we'd known each other, but before I could get more than a glimpse of her emotions, she held up her index finger, giving me a look that I'm sure would serve her well in motherhood.

“No, I've not used my ability on you,” she assured me. “And I'll thank you not to use yours on
me,
Gideon Montrose. That was our agreement. Unless you sense that I'm craving double-fudge chocolate ice cream with whipped cream and caramel drizzle. Then bring it on.”

I laughed a little and inclined my head, grateful for her attempt to distract me from my worry and help me bring my emotions back to heel. “As you wish.”

“Now, I'll leave you two alone for a little while so I can get dressed,” she continued. “Arabella would benefit from some fairy dust to slow the
fading
process and help with the fatigue and pain she's experiencing. If you're willing to share until I can get a licensed distributor here—”

“I'll give her every bit of mine if it'll help,” I interrupted, “but we're not calling in anybody else.”

Trish frowned at me in exasperation. “Gideon, you're an Unseelie. Yes, I'm well aware of that fact—don't look so surprised. I also know that your fairy dust isn't as powerful as a Seelie's. I'll just call in Lavender's sister Poppy.”

“No!” I barked more harshly than I'd intended. “Trish . . .” I hesitated, but my new vow to be completely honest with my friend pressed on my conscience. I heaved a sigh and continued, “I've been disavowed. The king has distanced himself from me because of the trouble at Guinevere's. I can't ask one of his offspring to help me right now.”

Trish put her hands on her hips in a huff, her brows furrowing in frustration. “Your fairy dust will give her some of her strength back, Gid,” she said. “But we need time to figure out how to
save
her, and if you want the effect to last, we need a Seelie's fairy dust. That's probably why Arabella's been stealing it.”

My eyes widened in surprise. “How'd you know ... ?”

Trish cocked her head to one side and looked at me like I was an idiot for even asking the question. And I was.
Of course
Trish had been the one investigating the crime scenes and would've been very familiar with the evidence on the case. “Her magical signature is the same as one of those at the crime scenes.”

“
One
of the signatures?” I repeated. “Then you've identified the others?”

She nodded. “There are at least three distinct signatures—maybe more. Unfortunately, several of the crime scenes were contaminated by your king's guards. No offense, Gid, but some of them are bumbling idiots. It's no wonder the transports were stolen with those guys guarding them! Now go ahead and lie down with Arabella, lend her your strength. But think over what I've said. Poppy's the best fairy dust therapist in Chicago. Perhaps she could come here on the sly without her father finding out.” She paused at the door and turned back to me, weighing her words for a moment before adding, “You know, we all have our secrets, Gideon. But trust me when I tell you, living in the past will do nothing but bring you misery.
Now
is all that matters.”

I was struck dumb by Trish's pronouncement, which so closely echoed Arabella's own insistence. For several moments, all I could do was stare at the closed bedroom door. They were right, of course. I'd denied myself a great deal by dwelling in the past, clinging to what
was
instead of focusing on what
is,
and completely denying there was even the possibility of a what
could be
until last night
.
And when Arabella had intimated this morning that things between us were only temporary, I'd immediately closed off my heart again to keep her at arm's length. But in guarding my heart, I could be denying myself one of the greatest joys of my life—a joy that now might be fleeting at best.

A shaky sigh behind me brought my attention back to my little love, so beautiful even though some of her vibrancy had been robbed by this horrible illness. I stretched out on the bed beside her and pulled her into my arms, cradling her head in the crook of my elbow. She moaned softly, her brow furrowed.

“Hush now,” I crooned, smoothing her hair, conjuring a sprinkling of my silver fairy dust and letting it drift down upon her. “I've gotcha, lass.”

She inhaled, pulling the dust into her lungs. I offered another dose, marveling at how the silver clung to her skin, her hair, her lips, instead of instantly dissolving as it did on most Tales. After a third dose, she began to look like the winter fairies I'd watched as a child as they skimmed the surface of the ponds, freezing the water little by little. I'd marveled at their beauty, the way their skin sparkled in the moonlight.

I tenderly smoothed her hair away from her brow, still finding it hard to believe that she was alive and in my arms. But as soon as the happiness began to creep into my heart, the knowledge that she was dying stabbed through it. Now I understood everything—the reason for the fairy dust thefts, why she'd been stealing the purest form of the dust in hopes of controlling her symptoms, her need to find the remaining relics that her mother had created for her father to keep him alive ...

The panic and desperate need to
fix
what was wrong with her, to find a cure for this horrible wasting illness that would take her from me yet again, clawed at my guts, squirmed under my skin, making me restless, anxious. Never in my life had I felt this kind of helplessness.

I was a warrior—a man of action. My instinct was to fight and destroy, conquer my enemy. Since coming into the king's service I'd learned patience, self-control, but I was still a guardian, a protector to all those I cared about. And yet I felt completely helpless to save the one person who had meant more to me than anyone else in my life. I'd take her place in a heartbeat, trade my life for hers without question. But not even my fairy dust was potent enough to relieve her symptoms for more than a little while. For that she needed a Seelie's magic.