Harlequin Nocturne May 2015 Box Set: Wolf Hunter\Possessed by a Wolf (46 page)

She slowed to a stop just inside the yew hedge. She could see the spreading branches of the old plane tree where she'd been with Faran last night, and her core heated at the memory. Around her, lawns and flower beds flowed beneath the intersecting hedges, early bulbs like spears of green against the dark soil. There had to be a touch of magic afoot, because winter was already fading inside the maze. The air was warm enough that she shed her jacket.

“A lovely place, isn't it?”

She knew the voice before she turned her head. Ambrose. Alarm sang through her, but she refused to show it. She knew his game now, and had no intention of playing. “Is the weather here the work of the fey?” she asked calmly.

He met her reasonable tone with his own. “Older magic, actually. All spellwork—dark, light, sorcery or anything else you can name—is really just a method of harnessing what the earth has to give. We call this kind of place a source. They are all over the world. Stonehenge. Delphi. People still flock to leave their offerings, even if it is just the price of admission to look at a tourist attraction.”

Lexie swallowed, her throat tight and aching with apprehension. She felt trapped by her own stupidity, like the B-movie heroine who'd gone into the basement. And yet, she hadn't been careless. She was in a public place, in plain view. There were plenty of people around, strolling in groups with their cameras and guidebooks in hand.
I'm not helpless, and this is the perfect time to get some information
.

“Why are you here?” she asked. “Not for the souvenir T-shirt, I suppose.”

She turned to study him, looking for something that marked him as more than human. She could see arrogance in his refined features, perhaps a faded beauty that would have awed the viewer once upon a time, but that was all. There was nothing—no pointed ears, no upswept brows, no fairy wings. Faran was right—the fey were impossible to distinguish from humans, at least at first glance.

He smiled, but it was only with his lips. “To work great magic, but you knew that. And maybe to share a few tidbits you might find of interest.”

“You want to instruct me like you did Justin? No thanks.” She took a step back, wanting airspace between them.

“Ah, Justin. I regret pushing him too young.” He waved a gloved hand as if flicking away a regret. “You, on the other hand, will miss the benefit of an early education. I would have hoped for a happy medium, but what can you do?”

Someone bumped her from behind, forcing her to stumble forward. Ambrose caught her, and then cold metal clamped around her wrist. The prickling of the magic stopped dead, as if someone had thrown a switch.

The sudden muffling confused Lexie for a moment. She jerked away, spinning to call out to the man who had bumped her, but he was gone. Something pulled at her arm, nearly putting her off balance. Lexie wheeled with a snarl worthy of Faran. She looked down at her arm, panic flaring in her chest. A band of plain dark metal cuffed her like a bracelet, and a chain stretched from the bracelet to Ambrose's gloved hand.

She was caught. It had all happened in a split second.

“What is this?” she demanded, straining to yell, but it came out no more than a croak. Her voice was gone.

“Shh.” He pulled her close, tucking her arm under his to hide the shackle. “You won't have time to learn much of your fey magic, but there will be room for a few object lessons.”

He began to walk, and her feet followed him. She strained to pull away, but no part of her body would obey her will.

“Now that your magic is awakened, Alexis, you will find some things have changed. For instance, you are completely at the mercy of cold iron.”

Chapter 26

F
aran came back to the palace late, Sam in tow. The Company had decided to return to the city for the fireworks display. Their justification was that they weren't coming as Company soldiers, but instead playing things low-key, arriving for the night's celebration in twos and threes and dressed like any other member of the public. If nothing happened, they'd go home without so much as flashing a fang. If something did, they would be there to stop it.

But however they spun their story, they were disobeying orders—or at least bending the rules into pretzels. That hadn't been an easy decision to make. Fierce argument had raged among the members of the Company, and no one could drag out a debate like a bunch of vampires who had the rest of eternity to make their point.

Faran unlocked the door to the rooms where he was staying with Lexie. He set Lexie's replacement phone on the empty coffee table and blinked, realizing this was the first time he'd ever seen the table free of her junk. With dawning apprehension, he saw her cameras and computer were gone, too, as was the big duffel bag she carried them in. “I don't remember Lexie mentioning a job this afternoon.”

“Are you sure she's here at all?” Sam asked. “I only see your stuff.”

Faran glanced around to see it was true. Without a word, he stormed into the bedroom. All her clothes were gone, too, down to the last thong. For a long moment, Faran stood in front of the depleted closet, refusing to understand. “Where is she?”

Sam stood in the bedroom doorway, his face tight with grief. He might have said “On a plane” or “I told you so,” but Sam wasn't that kind of man. Instead, it was his expression that said history was repeating itself and Lexie had walked out.

“Everything was going great,” Faran said, his voice coming from some other Faran who could still form words. “We had a bit of an argument this afternoon, but still...”

A slow pain was working its way up his gut, sprouting tendrils as it went.
Of course she left. What did you expect? She had a perfectly happy human life and then she ran into you again and poof, she's sucked into the freak show again.
The voice kept going on and on until he slammed it down like a buzzing fly.

Sam shifted uneasily. “I can see you thinking. Keep your head in the game, Kenyon.”

“How do you know it's not?” Faran snapped. He was feeling sick, as though he needed fresh air.

“I know that look. It has her name all over it.”

Setting his jaw, Faran pushed past Sam into the front room. Something didn't make sense. She'd been talking about finding her father. Is that where she went? Had she gone to see her mother?

“Look,” said Sam, “she's obviously left with all her things, which says to me she went under her own steam.”

“Damn her!” Faran swept most of the wine bar onto the floor. The bottles and glasses smashed with a satisfying cascade of glass and scarlet wine. His chest heaved, fighting chains of anger and grief. “Last time
at least
she left a note.”

Silence blanketed the room, broken only by wine glugging from a broken bottle. Faran felt as if he were shrinking, life leaving him atom by atom. It would make sense if she'd jumped ship again—he was still a werewolf, and she was still haunted by a past he was only beginning to understand. And yet, he believed she was stronger than she had been in Paris. He'd heard it in her voice. He'd felt it in their lovemaking. She was too fierce to run now.

“This isn't right,” Faran said, his voice half-strangled. “She would say something, even just a couple of words.”

“What do you think happened?”

Faran swallowed hard. “Lexie's in trouble. They just made it look like she left.”

“Okay,” Sam said, drawing himself to his full height, “then stopping the Five and their ceremony is the best way to make sure Lexie is safe. She was supposed to be part of it, right? If we find them, we find her.”

That at least made sense. Faran scrambled for some shred of reason, some mask to hide the eroding mess inside him. “Fine. Let's end those freaks.”

* * *

It wasn't exactly a dungeon, Lexie thought. The room didn't have that much style. It looked more like a pantry with manacles.

She was chained to the wall, the long iron fetters giving her enough slack to slump on the floor. There was a covered bucket and a bottle of water and nothing else in the room except rows and rows of glass jam jars on the opposite wall, where she couldn't reach. Half the jars were filled with what looked like thick-cut marmalade. Nothing like a homey touch. She crossed her legs, trying to get more comfortable. The chains rattled like Marley's Ghost.

Has Faran noticed I'm gone yet?
She thought of their disagreement that morning. That seemed utterly stupid now. She'd wanted time alone, which was fair, but now she wanted nothing more than to feel his strong body next to her.

Exasperated. Lexie banged the back of her head against the wall. This was just great. So she was to star in a Dark Fey ritual. Hopefully they needed all her blood and wouldn't waste any on torture. Lexie's stomach rolled with pent-up nerves.

The door rattled, making her jump. Her heart began to pound so hard she felt dizzy. Instinct made her curl up tight, wrapping her arms around her knees.

Ambrose entered, locking the door behind him again. “Ms. Haven.”

She didn't bother to answer.

He pulled up a stool and sat down, resting his gloved hands on his knees. He'd been scrupulously careful never to touch her chains with his bare skin, and she wondered if the effect of iron was worse on full-blood fey.

“I do have a few questions I'd like to ask about the events of yesterday,” he said.

She closed her eyes, not wanting to see his face. “You asked me already.”

“And I will continue asking. What did your friend do after he chased my companion?”

“He came to find me.”

“Before that.”

“I don't know. I wasn't there. Why don't you use your magic to find out?”

“You're half fey, more's the pity. Any magic strong enough to sift through your mind would kill you in the bargain, and I need your heart beating to take your blood.” Ambrose leaned forward. “What did your friend tell you?”

“He got cut in a fight. Then we talked about the concert. He was more interested in that.” Which was true, as far as it went. She knew he'd killed the fetch and had taken his wallet, but so far Ambrose hadn't asked that directly. She'd found it hard to lie to him, but she didn't have a problem withholding information.

“Did your friend find Princess Amelie's wedding band?” Ambrose asked, just as he'd asked twice before. “Look at me when you answer.”

She opened her eyes reluctantly. It sounded as if the fetch had retrieved the blasted ring from the hotel and never passed it on. “There was no mention of the wedding band.”

The fey's face grew dark with anger. He flushed until he appeared almost purple, his brown eyes flaring to a deep, coal-hot orange. “Tell me the truth!” he roared. “Tell me the truth or I will suck it from the marrow of your bones!”

Lexie stared. After Justin, it took a lot for a threat to impress her, but glowing eyes did the job. Ambrose grabbed her chains, pulling the huge iron staples from the walls with his bare hands. They fell to the floor with a crash and clatter. Then he dragged her to her feet, gripping her by the upper arms. “Tell me!”

At that, he tossed her across the room, chains and all. Superhuman strength sent her sailing. Lexie's limbs thrashed, desperate to catch herself. The only thing that saved her from smashing against the wall was the weight of all that iron. It dragged her to the ground in a painful, clanking heap.

“I don't know where the ring is!” She squeezed her eyes shut, closing him out again. Her voice had gone tiny. “Honestly, I don't.”

“Do you think to hold out until your white knight rescues you?” Ambrose prowled from one side of the room to the other.

Lexie didn't respond. Nothing she could say would make a difference. Instead, she tried to gather her legs under her, grateful that she could still move.

“I wouldn't count on rescue. After all, you've walked away from him before. Allergic to dogs, are you?”

That made her look up, a chill sliding down her insides.

“Oh, yes, I know what Mr. Kenyon is and who he works for. The supernatural community isn't all that large, no matter what side you're on.” Ambrose's smile was real, but it was malicious. “I cleaned everything out of your rooms. As far as he knows, you've run away, just like you did before.”

“You can't do that!” she said before she could stop herself.

“I can and I did, Ms. Haven. If you want anything to change, you'll tell me what I want to know.”

She was suddenly afraid—not of the usual things like death or pain, but of leaving that loose end dangling. She'd seen the pain that caused the first time, the complete breach of trust.
Don't let him think I left because of who he is
.

But she didn't know anything about the ring. “I can't help you.”

Ambrose reached down, using her collar to haul her up. Cloth cut into her throat, choking off her air, but he kept going until she was dangling with her toes just brushing the floor. “I could kill him, you know. A silver bullet is all it would take. I could build a fetch with your face to do it.”

Lexie clawed for air, fighting the heavy chains to scrabble at her throat.

But Ambrose just kept talking. “That's how Leopold meant to be rid of the princess and his brother. By Marcari law, not even Prince Kyle could escape execution once he's seen murdering his bride-to-be. No thanks to your lover, we have to start over on that one.”

The fey hurled her to the floor. She cried out as she hit the ground, but the noise was drowned by the cascade of chains. Tears sprang to her eyes, part pain and part grief. Faran! She would save him any way she could, but she was trapped here, in cold iron, and she had no information to bargain with. Frustration welled up in her, a clawed, squirming savage thing. She began to sob, a deep racking wail of helpless rage.

“I can't tell you what I don't know!” she shrieked. It rang against the tiles like a curse.

This was the man who had destroyed her brother. Who had made her childhood a living hell. Lexie looped the chain on her right wrist around her hand, a primitive corner of her mind planning to beat Ambrose to death with her shackles.

His nostrils flared as if she smelled foul. “You know, I'm starting to believe you. Your brother never withstood me this long.”

“He was a
child
!” Lexie screamed, and swung the chain with all her fury.

But physics were against her. The long chain made a savage clank against the floor, but she could barely scoot it across the ground. Ambrose sidestepped her attack with a look of distaste.

“Useless creature. I'll give you some time to think of an answer that might save your life.” With that, he slammed out of the room as abruptly as he'd come.

Lexie roared her wrath at the blank, motionless door.

* * *

When Sam and Faran reached the palace grounds, it became hard to think about anything but the crowds of people cramming the lawns. The pyrotechnic display being held tonight was an old tradition, dating back to a time when men wore curly wigs and women's skirts were as wide as sofas. And while the good old days might have seen Handel, Vivaldi and their contemporaries providing the entertainment, tonight's stage was graced by a series of acts, ending with a set by Maurice.

Although open to the public, the number of people admitted to the palace grounds was limited by lottery. Those who got in showed a token just like the one Faran had found in the anti-Kyle's wallet. And, not all of the grounds were open. The water garden and the maze were roped off for safety reasons.

Taking advantage of the growing darkness, Sam and Faran found their way past the security ropes to the maze. Sam motioned him to silence. Another figure was drifting through the darkness. Faran recognized the silhouette and felt his spirits lift a notch. It was Dr. Mark Winspear, the Horsemen they called Plague.

Never one for pleasantries, the doctor gave a curt nod. “I've been busy while you two have been buffing your nails. The plainclothes Company members are in place throughout the grounds.”

They were standing on the west side of the maze, in the deep shadow formed by the great wall of yew and a boxwood topiary of an enormous lion. The two vampires seemed to merge into the darkness and, even though werewolves weren't on their grocery list, Faran couldn't help a primitive prickle of wariness. On nights like tonight, he was very glad to be on their side.

“So what about inside the maze?” Sam asked. “Have we eyes in there?”

“That will be us,” said Mark. “I was looking at the red dots marked on the map Faran found. There are, not surprisingly, five of them. I believe those are the positions around the central sundial where the participants in this ritual are supposed to stand. They were the original positions of some ancient standing stones.”

“They need the blood of the Haven line,” Faran said, swallowing hard to keep his voice even. “They'll bring Lexie here.”

“We think so,” Mark replied. “But even with your information and what the Company has found out, we're guessing at a lot right now. We need to wait and watch.”

Not what Faran felt like right then, but this was still his best chance at a rescue. Half levitating, half climbing, Mark and Sam melted into the shadowy treetops. Leaving his clothes under the yew hedge, Faran took wolf form and slunk through the trees, hunching beneath the bushes to watch the bare mosaic with its sundial in the middle of the maze.

Barely a minute later, a pair of security guards came through, walking quickly so they could leave the spooky paths again. As Faran heard their footfalls recede, the first band took the stage at the other end of the grounds. In the distance, the crowd roared approval.