Ever After (19 page)

I nodded. “So do I.” I reached out and snatched one of the knives from Arabella's belt and sliced open the Huntsman's thigh before he could even flinch. It was a shallow wound, little more than a scratch, but he howled in pain as the curse hit his bloodstream. “You have five minutes until the curse paralyzes your heart,” I told him evenly. “Start talking and I'll consider retracting it.”

“You can do that?” Arabella whispered.

I threw a glance her way. “My curse. My call.”

The Huntsman's back suddenly arched off the ground, the curse wringing a raw cry from him.

“Looks like five minutes was a bit off,” I corrected. “Probably more like three. Start talking.”

The man glared at me through the haze of his agony, sweat beginning to bead on his forehead. “Bugger off.”

“Where are the other relics?” I demanded. “The ones you stole from the Met. Where are they?”

He shook his head and attempted to force a smile through clenched teeth. “Up your ass.”

I made another slash with the knife, this time cutting across his chest. “I just cut your time in half,” I informed him. “Better get on with it.”

His muscles were beginning to twitch uncontrollably, his legs bending and extending in rapid succession, but still he refused to say a word.

“Where are the relics from the Met?” I asked again, speaking slowly.

“Eat shit.”

“Where is the magic mirror you stole?”

“What mirror?”

“Nice try,” I snapped. “It's
the
magic mirror—Fabrizio.”

He laughed, a dark sound that squirmed along my skin.

“Who is your employer?” I demanded, trying another tack.

He spit toward my face, missing. “Go fuck yourself.”

I sent a casual glance at the spittle that fell short.

“This isn't working,” Arabella said softly.

I made another slash across his chest, my desperation to save Arabella sending me to that dark place where I'd once dwelled. “Answer any
one
of the questions, Huntsman, and I'll stop the curse.”

“Gideon,” Arabella admonished, “he's not going to talk.”

The Huntsman clenched his teeth tighter, groaning with pain, the veins in his neck bulging. His face was turning purple now, his time rapidly running out. And I didn't give a shit. All that mattered to me was getting the information that would save the woman I loved.

I heard Arabella's soft curse and glanced up at her, the wary look in her eyes when she gazed at me giving me pause. I turned away from the confusion I saw there, somehow knowing that my torture of the Huntsman, worthless asshole that he was, had irreparably damaged her image of me.

The weight of that realization sat like a rock in the center of my gut, weighing down my hope of ever reclaiming what we'd had before. But if it meant Arabella would live, it was a risk I was willing to take.

“Last chance, Huntsman,” I ground out, my voice as deadly as my resolve. “Tell me—”

“They're at Guinevere's!”

I held up my hand at the Huntsman's sudden outburst, closing my fist and halting the progress of the curse. “What's at Guinevere's?”

He was panting, dragging in great gulps of air, wisely unsure of how long the reprieve would last. “The relics from the Met,” he wheezed. “Guinevere's had them all along. She took them and reported them stolen to get the insurance money.”

I pulled my free hand down my face. “You've got to be fucking kidding me,” I muttered. “So, you were at her house not just for the ring, but for the other relics as well.”

“If they were there the whole time, where were they hidden?” Arabella asked, clearly skeptical of the Huntsman's story. “I searched the house from top to bottom looking for the ring.”

The Huntsman chuckled. “That you did. I enjoyed watching your little drama play out.”

I opened my hand, giving him just a hint of the curse. “Answer the question.”

He turned furious eyes on me. “There's a safe behind a piece-of-shit painting in the sitting room.”

I knew exactly which one he meant.
Damn it!
I'd been staring right at it. I'd known something was off about the painting that looked like a preschooler's art project. I'd been drawn to it for reasons I couldn't comprehend, even though the painting itself was far from interesting or exceptional. Now I knew why. But I kept my expression blank, not about to let on that I knew what he was talking about it.

“And the mirror?” I asked, not about to let up on him now that he'd broken his silence. “Where's Fabrizio?”

“Not my handiwork,” he spat. “I know Fabrizio of old. I'd sooner pay someone
else
to steal it than have to put up with that arrogant pain in the ass.”

I shrugged, conceding the point. “Fair enough. Who else knows about it? Your employer? Did he take it?”

He eyed me askance. “You'll have to ask him.”

“Love to,” I shot back. “Where can I find him?”

The Huntsman laughed again. “Right under your nose.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I demanded.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Ask your king.”

I slowly straightened, not sure whether I should strangle the son of a bitch for what he was implying or save that dubious honor for my king. Disbelief and confusion crashed over me in one great wave. And for a moment, I was so stunned I forgot to halt the curse infecting the Huntsman. But his anguished scream snapped me out of my stupor.

With one hissed word, I waved my hand, immediately relinquishing him from the magic's grasp. Exhausted from this last onslaught, the Huntsman slumped over in a heap, unconscious.

“Dear Lord,” Arabella breathed, her eyes wide when she turned her head to look at me.

I sent a dark glance her way, but didn't say a word in defense of what I'd done. I had the answers I needed. And I didn't regret for a moment the means I'd had to employ to obtain them.

But Arabella's unasked questions weighed so heavily on my conscience, I turned away and dialed Red Little's cell.

“You miss me already?” she drawled by way of greeting.

“What can I say,” I quipped, “it must be your sunshiny disposition.”

She laughed. “I get that a lot. Let me guess—calling about Guinevere?”

I frowned. “No. What about her?”

“Just got word she's awake,” Red explained. “Thought that was why you were calling. As soon as she's feeling up to it, we'll question her about what happened and get everything sorted out.”

“I'm glad to hear she's conscious,” I told her. “I'm certain she'll be able to clear my name.”

“That's the plan,” Red assured me. “So, if you weren't calling about our lovely Lady of Camelot, what's doin'?”

I glanced at the Huntsman, still lying in an unconscious heap on the ground. “I have a present for you.”

“Aww, for me? You're gonna make Nate jealous.”

“Yeah, well, a few more seconds and I would've been giving this present to him. But this one's all for you.”

“Color me intrigued,” she said. “Let me hand off the boys to Gran and we'll be on our way.”

As soon as she disconnected the call, I texted the address for Merlin's flat, then turned my attention back to the Huntsman. He was beginning to stir. I crouched down beside him and placed my hand on his arm, sending out a binding spell to keep him from getting too friendly when he came to.

“What the
bloody hell
happened here?”

Arabella and I spun around to see Merlin standing in the doorway to his flat, a tall, leggy blonde under one arm and an equally statuesque redhead under the other.

“You two have
got
to be the worst houseguests in the
history
of... of
houseguests!
” he sputtered. “Look what you've done to my furniture! And—
blimey!
—my shelves! Do you have any idea what those books are
worth?
And—” His words broke off when he finally noticed the Huntsman lying on the floor. “Hel-lo . . . Who's
this?
”

I glanced toward Merlin's visitors. “Perhaps you should ask your lady friends to depart.”

Merlin blinked at me in dismay. “My what ... ? Oh, yes, yes.” He plastered on a smile and turned toward the door, his arms spread. “Seems our plans have changed, my darlings.”

The women pouted in almost perfect unison, simpering in disappointment as Merlin ushered them out.

“But you
promised,
” the blonde sulked.

“Oh, I know, I know, ducky,” Merlin soothed. “I was looking forward to our little party too.”

“I thought we were going to play with your magic wand,” the redhead moped.

Arabella grunted in disgust and rolled her eyes. “You and everybody else,” she muttered.

I smothered a smile, wondering how I'd ever mistakenly believed that she and Merlin could've been romantically involved. My darling lass had no doubt seen through his advances in a heartbeat and put him in his place with a wry look or an acerbic word.

When the women were gone, Merlin turned back to us, his devil-may-care attitude gone in an instant. His expression was stormy, his anger a palpable force in the room as he strode toward us. And for a moment, I thought he might actually unleash that infamous, phenomenal power I'd witnessed on more than one occasion in our days in Make Believe, the same power that had made him an almost unstoppable force when he was adviser to the kings of Camelot but which had taken a regrettable backseat to illusions and parlor tricks. But before he could give us a glimpse of the Merlin of old, he turned that furious gaze upon the awaking Huntsman.

“Who
the fuck
are you?” he demanded of the assassin, his voice deeper and deadlier than I'd ever heard it. “And what the hell are you doing in my home?”

“He came to steal the relics,” Arabella explained before the visibly rattled Huntsman could respond.

Merlin grabbed the Huntsman by the collar and jerked him upright. “I don't take kindly to someone stealing from me or my friends,” he snarled. “Those who cross me tend to suffer
most
grievously.”

“Red Little's on her way,” I assured Merlin. “She's going to take him into custody.”

Merlin put his face close to the Huntsman's and hissed, “It's a damned good thing.” He shoved the man away and straightened, taking a deep, centering breath and letting it out slowly before turning his attention back to Arabella and me and coming forward, his arms spread wide. “Are you all right? This bastard didn't harm either of you?”

I shook my head. “Not to worry. And he won't be any trouble for a while. I've bound him until Red can get here and put him in shackles.”

“Did he manage to get what he came for?” Merlin asked.

Arabella shook her head. “No, all the relics are safe. And he told us that the three stolen from the Met are at Guinevere's.”

Merlin's eyes narrowed on me. “I'm guessing that's not all he imparted.”

I met his gaze, not missing the shrewd intelligence there. Merlin might pretend to be an irresponsible reprobate, but he was far more discerning and perceptive than even I'd given him credit for. I had a feeling I'd grossly underestimated my old friend. I would not make that mistake again.

“Fabrizio has been taken,” I told him. “Arabella's theater was in shambles and the mirror was gone. No one besides the three of us knew about the mirror.”

Merlin took a step back, suddenly wary. “I assure you I had no hand in his disappearance. As much as I despise that annoying prat, I bear him no ill will. Nor would I ever do anything that would cause my darling Bella any grief. You must look elsewhere for your thief.”

“I hope so,” I told him. “I would never want us to be unfriendly, Merlin.”

Merlin inclined his head, acknowledging the warning in my voice, his steely gaze offering a warning of his own. “Nor would I.”

I reached for Arabella's hand. “We're going to Guinevere's to gather the other three relics there. I trust you will guard the Huntsman until Red arrives?”

Merlin sent a glance toward the man in question. “My pleasure. I'm sure he and I will have a
lovely
time together until Ms. Little arrives.”

I
n the interest of saving time, I took a chance and shifted us to Guinevere's home, but it was clear that the journey had taken a toll on Arabella from the moment we got there. She didn't complain, though, instead offering me a bright smile.

“Well, here we are again,” she mused, trudging toward the front door. “Shall we?”

I darted forward, reaching the door just before she did, blocking the entrance. “I'll go first,” I insisted, my skin prickling in warning.

She started to protest but must've caught the wary watchfulness in my gaze as I surveyed the surrounding area. There was danger lurking nearby, waiting for the opportunity to attack. She nodded her understanding and slipped her hand in mine.

I eased open the front door, peering uneasily into the darkness. The light switch was just inside the front door from what I recalled of my earlier visit, but I didn't want to flip it on and alert anyone who was watching the house. Instead, I called up a small ball of magic and shined it into the foyer, peeling away the shadows, gauging if it was safe to enter. When I felt certain we weren't in any immediate danger, I stepped inside, my grip on Arabella's hand tightening.

I didn't waste any time before heading for the sitting room where the Huntsman had indicated the treasures were stored. I went immediately to where the painting hung on the wall. Even in the semidarkness, I could see that the painting was slightly askew.

We weren't the first to come looking for the relics. I just hoped the previous visitor hadn't been successful in getting inside the safe that was hidden behind the monstrosity of a painting.

I slipped it from its hook and set it aside, relieved to find the safe behind it as the Huntsman had indicated. Fortunately, the lock was undamaged and there was no magical residue upon it to indicate that anyone had attempted to break in. I studied the edges of the safe, searching for any booby traps that might set off a curse like those I'd already encountered. But it seemed clean.

I glanced at Arabella and shrugged. “It looks like just a regular safe.”

Her brows came together. “Are you sure?”

I took one last look, smoothing my fingertips over the edges of the safe. “I don't sense anything. I think we're good.”

“Now if we only knew the combination,” Arabella mumbled. “How are you at safecracking, love?”

I gave her a sidelong smirk, then winked. At the same instant, the lock popped and the safe door swung open with a quiet creak.

Her eyes sparkled with delight. “Is there anything you
can't
do?”

“I'll let you know when I find out,” I teased.

I was still grinning when I turned my attention to the contents of the safe, relieved to find all three relics there as we'd hoped. I quickly fished out the goblet, the broken dagger, and the penannular brooch with Arthur's dragon's head seal, and handed them off to Arabella. Three more relics safely in my little love's possession, leaving only two to secure: Arthur's helm and Excalibur.

I was just about to swing the door shut when I noticed something else in the safe. “What the hell?”

“What is it?” Arabella asked, going up on her toes to peer around me to get a peek at what had captured my attention.

Still too stunned to answer, I produced a handkerchief and reached inside again to take hold of the silver chain and pendant that lay tucked in the very back corner of the safe, nearly hidden by the other mementos and a few carefully folded documents. I held the chain up before my eyes, studying the design.

“It's lovely,” Arabella breathed. “I've never seen such intricately crafted designs on a pendant. But the symbols look familiar.”

I sighed. “It's because you've seen them before.” I held my wrist before her eyes, revealing the king's bonds upon me. “These symbols constitute the Seelies' family crest. They are the symbols of my king's house.”

“Why would Guinevere have a necklace that bore your king's crest?” Arabella asked.

“Perhaps we should go ask her.”

 

“How are you holding up?” I asked Arabella as we made our way down the hallway toward Guinevere's room at the Tale hospital.

She gripped my hand and offered me a smile that was far weaker than the last time I'd asked. “Peachy. You?”

I brought her hand to my lips and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “Worried about you. I shouldn't have taken you with me to Guinevere's house. The travel has worn on you.”

“Sorry, love,” she said, lifting her chin a bit higher. “I'm not about to let you have all the fun. What if someone dark and deadly had been skulking about in the shadows? What would you have done without me there to protect you?”

I chuckled. “What would I have done, indeed?”

When we reached Guinevere's door, I glanced up and down the hallway to gauge how much interest our visit had caused, but at this time of night, the doctors and nurses were scarce and those who were present seemed preoccupied with keeping up with the duties that were normally handled by twice as many staff during the day.

I pushed open the door and slipped inside, pulling Arabella in after me. The room was lit by only one small lamp in the corner so as not to disturb Guinevere, whose blonde hair was in a tangle upon her pillow, evidence that although she slept, her rest wasn't peaceful. When I took a step toward the bed, her eyes snapped open on a gasp.

“It's all right,” I assured her quickly, keeping my voice low, soothing. “You're safe, my lady.”

“Gideon,” she sighed, her lids closing in relief. “I was worried you might be . . .”

“The Huntsman?” I prompted. “Or the other assailant?”

Her lids lifted again with more than a little effort. “You saw them then?”

I shared a glance with Arabella. “Something like that.”

Guinevere's lips trembled, and her chest began to heave with emotion. “I tried to stop him,” she said. “I tried to keep him from hurting the others, but—”

“Hush now,” Arabella soothed, coming forward and placing her hand on Guinevere's arm. “There's nothing you could've done.”

Guinevere's eyes snapped. “Who the hell are
you
? How would you know?”

“This is Arabella Locksley,” I introduced, conveniently leaving out the part about Arabella being the offspring of Guinevere's unfaithful husband. “She's a friend.”

Guinevere's eyes lit with understanding. “Ah, so
this
is the reason you didn't accept my . . . invitation?”

I inclined my head. “Indeed she is.”

“Well, I suppose I shouldn't be
too
insulted. She's pretty enough.” Guinevere closed her eyes again, sinking down into her pillows. Her strength was failing, her recovery still not certain. It was this fact, no doubt, that kept Arabella's retort from slipping past her lips. That and the fact that I had pulled her slightly behind me, putting myself in the line of fire between the two women before any additional exchanges could take place.

“Guinevere,” I said gently, “we just wanted to assure ourselves that you were recovering as reported. I am delighted beyond measure to see that the reports were, in fact, true. I also wanted to assure you that we have the Huntsman in custody.”

“Thank heaven for that,” she murmured. “I hope that bastard gets what's coming to him.”

So did I—especially considering his declaration that he'd be out of FMA prison in no time thanks to the influence of those who required his services.

“And what of the other one?” she asked.

I hesitated before admitting, “Still unaccounted for. But we're doing everything we can to find him. Do you think you'd be able to give a description?”

She shook her head. “No. It all happened too fast. He was wearing a mask. I never saw his face.”

“But you did see the Huntsman?” I pressed gently. “You could identify him as one of the attackers?”

She nodded. “Yes. The other man even called him ‘Huntsman' when he sent him after you and the man who attacked me upstairs.”

At least my theories of multiple attackers could be proved. Now we just needed to figure out who the hell the mystery man was.

“We won't take up much more of your time,” I assured her. “I'm sure the FMA will send people along later to question you more extensively.”

She nodded.

“Before we go, though, I wanted to return something of yours.” I took the necklace from my pocket with a handkerchief and draped it across her palm.

The moment the silver hit her skin, her eyes snapped open on a gasp. “Where the hell did you get this?” she demanded, her voice breaking.

“It was taken from your safe,” I told her, watching her closely to see if the half-truth would play as well as I'd hoped.

She closed her fingers around the pendant, squeezing it so tightly that she would no doubt have an imprint of the symbols embedded in her palm when she finally released it. “Thank you for returning it,” she said, her words clipped.

“I know the value of such a piece,” I told her, intentionally keeping my tone conversational. “These pendants are quite rare and not often relinquished by the owner. I'm curious how you came by it.”

She laughed bitterly. “Did I steal it, you mean?” Before I could answer, she placed her closed fist upon her chest, clutching the pendant to her heart. “It was given to me, if you must know. I thought it was a token of great affection, a promise. But I was mistaken.”

“Do you mind if I ask who gave it to you?” I pressed.

“Yes, I mind!” she snapped, her eyes brimming with tears. “I mind a great deal. I thought—” She took a deep, shaky breath and glanced away, clearly not wanting us to see the emotional response she had to the necklace.

Arabella took my arm and nodded toward the door, signaling that it was time for us to go.

Dissatisfied with the answers I'd received, I wanted to press further, make Guinevere tell me which Seelie had given her the token of love and devotion she clutched in her hand, but the sorrow I could feel in her was enough to keep my questions at bay.

I let Arabella lead me to the door, but before we exited, I paused and turned back to Guinevere. “Whoever he was,” I told her, “he loved you a great deal. Those pendants bind one to another when a Seelie shares it with his beloved. And that bond is unbreakable unless the one who forged the necklace destroys it. No matter what has happened since you received this token, the heart that loved you once loves you still.”

Guinevere turned her eyes up to me, the tears brimming there finally making their way to her cheeks. Without a word, she brought the pendant to her lips, a single sob shaking her shoulders.

I closed the door behind me and walked in silence beside Arabella as we made our way out of the hospital.

“Was that true?” she asked after several moments. When I glanced down at her but remained silent, she asked again, “What you told Guinevere about the pendant. Was it true?”

I nodded. “The magical bond is embedded in the silver when it's forged. I've created several of them in my time with the king, most recently the one Lavender shared with her husband. Each one is unique, specifically designed to represent the beauty of two people's love for one another.”

Arabella tugged me to a halt and grasped the silver chain around my neck, bringing my own pendant out from beneath my shirt. “And this?” she prompted. “Is this the same kind of pendant?”

I nodded, taking it gently from her grasp and tucking it back under my collar. “It's a Seelie custom. And being an Unseelie slave, I didn't have the right to bestow my heart where I pleased. It was only after our relocation to the Here and Now ... after everything ... that I was allowed to possess one. A small freedom granted as a gift by my king as a token of his gratitude for risking my life to protect his daughter.”

Arabella walked in silence for several moments, but I could feel the questions pressing upon her, her curiosity itching to be scratched. Finally, she said in a burst, “If Lavender hadn't left you when you came over, would you have bound yourself to her?”

The question brought me up short. I turned to face Arabella and shoved my hands deep into my jeans pockets. “Does it matter?”

Her face went through a variety of contortions as it revealed many emotions within the span of a few seconds. “No, of course not,” she finally said. “But, I mean ... um, well, yeah, actually, it does matter.”

I narrowed my eyes at her, wondering what kind of answer she wanted. I had a bad feeling that no matter what I responded to this particular question, it was going to be wrong. But avoiding it altogether wouldn't have been helpful either.
Christ
. I was centuries old, had lived through wars, famine, pestilence, and gruesome violence the likes of which still haunted my nightmares. And yet nothing frightened me quite as much as the wrath of this angry woman.

I squared my shoulders and rallied my courage, deciding to just stick with the truth and then deal with whatever fallout might occur. “I was already bound to Lavender when we came over,” I admitted. “She gave me her pendant in Make Believe.”

Arabella's eyes went wide and she blinked at me for several seconds, her expression impossible to read. Finally she swallowed hard and her mouth opened and closed several times as if she was trying to form the appropriate words. But all that came out was a quiet, “Oh.”

I waited, not sure what was coming next. In fact, I waited with such tension that the muscles in my shoulders began to ache. Unable to take the suspense any longer, I continued, “Our pendant was destroyed after our relationship was discovered and she agreed to release me from our bond to protect me. I won't lie to you, Arabella—it was a difficult time. For the second time in my life, I'd lost a woman I loved.”