Motor City Fae (20 page)

Ric was magnificent and her heart soared as she watched him thrust, pivot and parry with preternatural skill and speed. Unfortunately, so did his opponents. She had no doubt he’d be more than a match for these two if he’d been at full strength, but he wasn’t and after a few long, long minutes, even she could see he was flagging.

All three had scored hits. Both opponents were bleeding from several minor cuts and Meagan had to bite back a scream when one of their blades bit deeply into Ric’s thigh. She knew no one outside could hear, but she didn’t dare distract Ric. They had him flanked now and it didn’t look like he’d be able to hold out much longer.

If only she had a weapon. They were so focused on defeating Ric that they were completely ignoring her. She looked around the clearing for something to use as a weapon, maybe a fallen branch, or a beer bottle, or anything.

Nothing. Even the boards on the picnic table were securely bolted down. Damn it, what she wouldn’t give for her bat right about now. She could practically feel it in her hand as the picture of her favorite softball bat formed in her brain. It was twenty-eight inches of tip-loaded aircraft aluminum, in shocking pink with a turquoise handle. It hung on a rack on the side of her garage, but she’d give almost anything to hold its familiar weight in her hands.

And then it was.

How it got there she had no idea, but she wasn’t about to question a miracle. She crept up behind the combatants, lifted the bat to her shoulder and took her stance. As the one with his back to her lunged forward at Ric, she swung for the bleachers.

The wet thwack of the bat echoed off the force field.

She’d hit him in the side of the head and he went down, hard.

“Meagan!” Ric cried out and grinned as he stared down his remaining opponent. “That’s my girl!”

The other elf must have been distracted by seeing his buddy fall. He failed to parry and Ric’s sword bit cleanly into his chest.

Almost as if he were in slow motion, the elf crumpled to the ground. His own sword dropped from his hand and he grasped Ric’s blade as if trying to dislodge it from his rib cage. After a moment, his hands fell and his eyes went blank.

Ric wiped his sword on the assailant’s jacket and reached for Meagan. She took his hand, her eyes never leaving their attacker as his body slowly faded, eventually disappearing from view. She blinked and realized that even the bloodstains on the grass were gone.

Meagan spun, looking for the one she’d hit, since she wasn’t totally sure he’d stay down. He, too, was gone.

She looked up at Ric, questions in her eyes.

He touched his finger to her chin, gently closing her gaping mouth. Since his other hand still held hers, that must mean he’d blinked the sword away. The sounds of cars and footsteps intruded and she realized the bubble had disappeared too. And there she stood with a battered, bloody elf and a bright pink bat in her hand.

“What…”

Ric eased her back down on the bench and gently tugged the bat from her hand. He weighed it thoughtfully.

“Nice choice. And you wield it well.”

“Three-time all-state batting champ,” she replied. “I know I don’t look like much of a jock, but my parents insisted on me getting some exercise.”

“Where did it come from, Meagan? Was it under the table or something?”

“No. It was in my garage, I think. I was thinking about it, wishing for it and suddenly it was here.”

Ric shook his head. “You’re a powerful force, Meagan Rose. And it’s grateful I am that we’re on the same side.”

“Where did they go?” She was pretty sure the one was dead, but how had they disappeared like that?

“It’s a spell that was cast on all of our people about a century ago. Modern forensics can detect the differences, so none of us can end up in a human morgue. Whenever one of us dies in this realm, the body is immediately transported back home.”

“And the blood?”

“Contains cells, so is part of the corpse and transported as well.”

“So they’re both dead?” She felt nauseous and laid her head over her crossed arms on the picnic table.

“I’m afraid so, love.” His hands were gentle, massaging her shoulders, smoothing her hair. “I’m so sorry, Meagan, but if it’s any consolation, they’d have murdered the both of us without a trace of remorse. Those were hired assassins and they were here for you. I’d far rather it be them than us.”

He was right of course. Still, the nausea surged and she stumbled off the bench and into the weeds to vomit. Ric was right beside her, holding her hair back and speaking softly until she was done. Once she stopped, he handed her a damp washcloth he’d ported in from Aidan’s house and drew her into his arms as she burst into tears.

“Shh, love, it’s all right. I’m so sorry, but so glad that you’re safe. I thought it was over, that I’d failed to protect you, but out of nowhere, you saved us both. I’m terribly proud of you, Meagan.”

She wept even harder and he sat on the bench, pulling her into his lap.

“You only did what you had to do to survive, sweeting. I know it’s horrid, but you’ll cope, I promise.”

His words were whispered and punctuated with tiny kisses to the top of her head. He kept her there, holding her close and whispering comfort while he let her cry it out.

Somebody must have stopped, because she heard him murmur something to someone else, but she couldn’t hear him over her sobs. It wasn’t until later, when they were back in the car, that she remembered to ask how he’d explained the situation.

Ric flushed, actually turned red to the tips of his ears.

“Come on, ’fess up.”

“I told them you were scared to tell your parents about the baby,” he admitted. “And a bit car sick.”

Meagan was mortified for a second and then laughed.

With Ric’s charm, she was sure the good Samaritans had bought it, hook, line and sinker. And it’s not like they were anyone she’d ever see again. She adjusted her seatbelt and turned on the ignition. “How’d you explain the blood and the bat?”

“I blinked the bat to the car,” he replied. “It’s behind your seat, should you need it again. As for the other, my glamour covered the damage. Look closely.”

Sure enough, she could see the faint aura overlaying his image. His natural state was clearer to her now than his glamour, but she could fuzz her vision and see the other. And in the glamour, his clothes were undamaged and his skin unblemished. The cuts and stains vanished like the points on his ears.

“I have so got to learn how to do that.” It would be awesome when she got paint on her clothes.

Looking down at his leg, she saw that though he’d wrapped a cloth around his upper thigh, blood was still seeping through. “You need a healer again, don’t you? I should just get you to a hospital.”

“A human hospital would be a bad idea, love.”

“A healer, then.” He really didn’t look good.

“I’ll survive, though a painkiller or six might help a bit. Don’t suppose you’ve got any in your purse?”

”Yeah, help yourself. They’re in there somewhere.”

After a short pause, while she backed out of the parking space, another thought occurred to her. “Do they work on elves?”

“Better than on humans, actually. Our metabolism is different; some drugs hit the system faster and harder.”

He rummaged through her purse, found something and set her purse back on the floor, before blinking one of his coffees into his hand and swallowing the painkillers.

“Can you get me a soda?” She’d pitched hers at the bubble.

“Get it yourself. I know there was some in your fridge.”

“But I don’t know how.”

“You did with the bat,” he reminded her. “Visualize what you want, where it is, where you want it. I’ve never known of anyone who could transport items without any instruction. You’ve a lot of power, Meagan. You can do it.”

They were still in the parking lot, so she pulled over to the curb and tried. She visualized the one-liter bottle of diet cola that she’d left in the fridge. She thought about the size, the label, the flavor of the liquid. She pictured it here, in her hand.

It took a while. She didn’t have the adrenaline rush that must have helped her before and Ric, damn him, wasn’t being helpful at all. But on the third try, there it was, tall and cool and sliding out of her hand.

“I did it!” She caught the bottle, unscrewed the cap and took a long swig.

“You sure did, my love.” Ric gave her a warm glance.

“I can’t wait to watch you set all those stuffed shirts at court on their pointy little ears.”

After one more drink, she wedged it between her knees and wished she hadn’t dropped her doughnut. At least Ric had rescued her bag of Snickers bars. She rummaged for one, let herself savor the rich salty sweetness of the chocolate, caramel and peanuts before she put the car back in gear.

Ric turned on the radio. “Let’s go, Meagan. Next stop, Chicago.”

It was starting to get dark as they left the Indiana Turnpike for the Chicago Skyway. Meagan had made the road trip to Chicago before, so the industrial decay of Gary, Indiana, was familiar, but somehow, this time it all seemed different. So much in her world had changed. She kept checking the rearview mirror for trouble.

“Relax, love, we’re almost there.” Ric’s voice was tight with pain. His eyes were squinted half-shut and the bandage on his leg was soaked through with blood.

Relax? Not likely.

“How do you know they won’t be waiting for us in Chicago?” She managed to keep her voice calm and even, though she was damn near hysterical with fear.

“Because I called while you were in the bathroom to put Deirdre on alert. If there’s trouble on her end, she’ll blink my watch off my wrist. Since it’s still there, I know she’s all right.”

That was clever, she had to admit, even if she didn’t really like the idea of another woman, especially an elf, knowing Ric well enough to be able to blink items off his person.

“Dee’s husband, Blaine, is about the best there is at wards and guards,” Ric continued without hesitation.

“Unless the bastards have gotten someone into her inner circle like they did Aidan’s, the portal there should be safe.”

“Husband?”

Ric slanted her a teasing glance. “Did I forget to mention that Dee is married? She hooked up with Blaine about fifteen or twenty years ago. Blaine’s a mage, which I imagine comes in quite handy for a Guardian’s spouse.”

“Aren’t you all mages? I mean you can all cast spells and stuff.”

Ric shook his head and winced. Damn, she’d forgotten all about the concussion. He needed medical care.

Hopefully someone in Chicago could provide it. “We can all do magic, but some of us specialize in certain types. I’m a bard. Most of my magic is in my music. Some are healers, while others, like your cousin Aidan, are natural leaders, whose main gifts are charisma and a sharp brain.

A true mage, like Blaine, can channel far more power through spells than the rest of us.”

“Can he heal you?”

Ric wiggled his hand in a so-so gesture. “Probably some. Not like a true healer, but he should be able to help a bit, at least enough to get me back to court. The queen’s healers are used to patching me up.”

Aghast, Meagan spun her head sharply. “You do this often?”

“It happens now and again, yes. I told you, Meagan, I’m an agent of the queen. I’ve had to track down renegades from time to time and sometimes they fight back. A bit of danger is part of my job description.”

Her brain chewed on that one as the Lake Michigan shoreline whizzed by on her right. If she were to have any kind of relationship with Ric, she’d have to share him with his work. And that meant playing second fiddle, pardon the pun, to both his music and his clandestine work for the queen.

Ric was running on caffeine, magic and willpower by the time they turned on to Michigan Avenue. Mostly willpower. Normally he loved the bustle and grandeur of Chicago’s Golden Mile, but today he wished every single shopper and club-goer to hell. His head was throbbing unmercifully, his leg was a solid mass of flaming pain and most of all he was terrified for Meagan. If they came at them again, he was going to be pretty much useless. He was too weak to lift his sword and he’d depleted most of his magic reserves to slow the bleeding and remain conscious.

That last attack had come far too close for comfort.

Without Meagan and her bright pink bat, they’d have been finished. Ric could have taken the two assassins if he’d been at full strength, but with the concussion and his power drained from disarming the life-trap, he’d been overmatched. But Meagan had come to his rescue.

He’d never heard of anyone being able to blink objects without any instruction before, but Meagan’s precocity had saved both their lives. He hoped her tender heart could come to grips with the fact that she’d killed in selfdefense.

He directed her to pull the car into the circle drive in front of an ornate Victorian building. Almost instantly, a uniformed valet was there to take the car and a doorman was waiting to usher them inside.

“Luggage, sir?” The doorman tipped his hat at Ric, who braced his hands on the doorframe to pull himself out of the Jag. As soon as Meagan climbed out of the car, the doorman bowed. “Welcome, my lady.”

“Just my guitars and the three paintings in the back, Axel,” Ric replied. “Handle them carefully; they’re gifts for the queen.”

The big man paled beneath his ebony complexion.

“Fine china it is, sir.” Ric wondered if Meagan, who seemed bemused by Axel’s deferential treatment, could tell that the burly doorman was a quarter ogre, as well as being a former defensive lineman for the Los Angeles Rams. Axel snapped his fingers at the valet, who lifted the wrapped paintings and set them gently into the padded baggage cart that had suddenly appeared.

Ric dragged in a breath and held it as he tried to pull himself upright. His arms worked, but as soon as he tried to put weight on his injured left leg, it buckled and he sagged hard against the car.

“Ric!” Meagan rushed around the hood, but Axel beat her, wrapping one meaty arm around Ric and supporting about ninety percent of his weight. Bless the man for not picking him up and carrying him in. Ric liked to think he had some pride left, after all. Meagan immediately insinuated herself under Ric’s other arm, providing lateral support. Ric leaned into her, grateful for any excuse to touch.