The Crossing (Immortals) (9 page)

A pause. Then, "Come winter, I won't be here."

They approached a village. He stopped to allow two old
crones to inch along a pedestrian crossing, then took a left
into a petrol station. He opened his door, turned in his
seat, and met her gaze. "Do us a favor, love. Don't try to
run. You won't get far, anyway."

She nodded. He got out of the car, pausing to do up his
zipper and belt. She sat very still, staring straight ahead.

He didn't trust her. He cleared his -throat- When she
looked up, he caught her gaze and pointedly cast a keeping
spell about the car, tight enough to stop even a gnat from
entering or exiting. Her lips thinned. He raised his brows.
She huffed, crossed her arms, and gave him her back.

He chuckled.

He filled the tank, checked the oil, and paid. All the
while, he kept one eye on her, not quite trusting her not to
do something foolish. Returning to the car, he dropped
the keeping spell and slid into the driver's seat. He'd bought a bag of crisps at the station's vending machine.
He tossed it in Artemis's direction.

She caught it with one hand. After a brief hesitation,
she lifted it to her lips and tore off a corner of the bag
with even white teeth.

She might as well have dragged those teeth over the
stiffest part of his body. Lust kicked into his groin. All that
male blood she'd been talking about earlier drained to
parts south, leaving him light-headed.

And she hadn't even used any magic.

Unsettled by his appalling lack of control, he snatched
her pack off the floor of the car and started rummaging
through it, more carefully this time. She stiffened, but
didn't try to stop him. Most likely because she knew she was
powerless to prevent him from doing whatever he wanted.

She had the usual detritus. Banknotes, credit card, loose
change. Chewing gum, a package of nuts, a few petrol receipts, the car key he'd been looking for earlier. A photo
wallet.

Curious, he flipped the last open and found a dozen or
more pictures, all of what he thought was the same child.
First as a baby, then as a toddler, and finally as a lad of about
six, a wide grin showing the gap where his front teeth used
to be. In some of the photos, the child was alone; in others,
he had his skinny arms wrapped around Artemis. The lad
shared her dark hair and eyes, and the stubborn tilt of
her chin.

Artemis made a soft sound, something akin to a whimper. He looked up to find her eyes filled with such pain
that his instinct was to gather her into his arms.

He didn't. "Your son?"

She nodded.

"Is he... gone, then, love?"

"No! No, not that. He's just... sick." She snatched the
photo wallet from his fingers and held it tight against
her body.

He frowned. "The life essence you stole-you didn't intend it for him, did you?"

"Yes," she said too quickly. "Yes, that's it."

His eyes narrowed. "It won't work, you know. Healing
requires pure life magic. Stolen life essence is tainted by
the death spell used to harvest it. But then, a witch of your
obvious talent and training would know that." He paused.
"Which means you must have another reason for gathering energy."

"No. That's not true."

If he hadn't been watching her so closely, he would have
missed her flash of panic. It was there and gone that quickly.

His jaw hardened. "Don't lie to me, Artemis."

"All right. I won't. But what does it matter about the life
essence? I gave it back."

"To Gilraen's village, yes. But what about the others?"

Her eyes flashed guilty. "But... they had so much!
They didn't even miss the little I took."

"That's not the point. What you did is highly illegal.
What happened to the magic? Did you sell it?"

"Y-yes."

"To a demon?"

"To... to humans. Demonwhores."

"Who turned around and presented it to their masters."

"No. The whores I sold to used the life essence for themselves. To... to counteract the effects of their masters'
death magic. You know what that does to demonwhores."

Her casual words hit him like a fist in the gut. Yes, he
knew what a demon's death magic did to a whore. Leanna
had tried her best to shield herself from it, using her muse
magic to collect the life essence of her lovers as leverage
against her master's touch. But in the end, his sister had
fallen completely.

"If your demonwhore friends are so bloody worried
about the toxic effects of death magic," Mac said evenly, "they shouldn't have gotten tangled up with demons in the
first place."

"Most people don't think things through before summoning a demon. They think they can handle the situation."

She was right about that-Leanna certainly had believed she had the upper hand on the demon she'd summoned. And so, apparently, did Artemis. Because Mac
didn't believe the witch's story for an instant. She had to
have a demon contact.

"You know, love, somehow it occurs to me that if you
were really brokering faerie life essence on the black market, you'd be living a bit less rough than you are at the moment."

"Look." Artemis made a good effort, but she couldn't
quite hide the desperate note that had snuck into her tone.
"If I give my word I won't steal any more life essence, will
you please let me go?"

He cocked his head. "Perhaps I would. If I didn't know
you were lying through your teeth."

She sucked in a breath, looking a bit green around the
gills, but she didn't deny the charge. With a grim nod,
he fished the car key out of her pack and inserted it in the
ignition. Starting the engine, he drove out of the petrol
station.

He'd just pulled onto the road when Artemis turned
and gripped his arm. Her hand shook. He swerved to the
curb, braking sharply.

"You have to let me go. I swear I won't bother another
faerie village, or any other Celtic creatures. After tomorrow, I won't even be in the U.K.Please. How can I convince you?"

His anger dimmed a bit. Her heart was in her eyes; she
was no longer trying to hide her desperation.

"What's wrong, love? What kind of trouble are you in? Is it your son? Do you need life magic to heal him? Where
is he? I could help him myself, perhaps."

She drew back sharply, her eyelashes sweeping downward.
"I... its kind of you to offer, but I'm afraid you can't help.
Please. I know I can't fight you. Just let me go."

He was tempted, but knew he couldn't do it. Her fervent promises were lies. Artemis might not be whore to a
demon, but he'd bet his immortal soul she was doing business with one. For whatever reason, she was desperate for
life essence. If he let her go, she'd steal more-from faeries,
or worse, from humans. If she overstepped her limits again,
someone would end up dead.

"Tell me the truth," he said quietly.

She didn't quite meet his gaze. "I have. As much as I
can, anyway."

"If you won't talk, I can't help. And as for letting you
go-forget it."

"What... what do you mean?"

"I mean I'm not letting you out of my sight. Not until I
figure out what to do with you."

Artemis wanted to scream. It was only by a supreme act of
will that she managed not to. How had she gotten herself
into such a colossal mess? Found out and kidnapped by an
elfin prince of Annwyn. An immortal, no less.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

For one vulnerable moment, she'd actually considered
confiding in Mac. His beautiful eyes had conveyed such
compassion. When was the last time a man had looked at
her that way? Never, that's when. What Artemis usually
saw when she looked into a man's eyes was something
much less complicated.

Fear. Of who she was. Of what she was capable of.

Mac didn't fear her at all. He was far too strong for that,
both physically and magically. He batted away her spells as
if they were gnats. On one level that made her afraid, but
on another, it made her feel... hope. She longed to transfer the weight of her burden onto his broad shoulders.

Except that she couldn't. She was her own hope. Mac
might be vastly powerful, but he was a creature of life
magic. He couldn't cast death magic. And where Artemis
was headed, death magic was king. Life magic was useless.
Mac would be about as much help as a litter of newborn
kittens.

She sidled him a glance. He was driving too fast, with
only the fingertips of his right hand touching the steering wheel. His right elbow rested comfortably on the open
driver's-side window. This, on a road so narrow that a person standing in the middle could have stretched out his
arms and touched the stone fences on either side. Gods
help them if they met a car coming the other way. Artemis
anchored a hand on the dash and a foot on the floor and
prayed they wouldn't.

The road curved sharply. Her stomach lurched, but the
sensation wasn't completely due to Mac's sudden veer to
the left. Her wristwatch had taken on the psychic proportions of a ticking bomb. She shut her eyes so she wouldn't
have to look at it. Time was flying by at lightning speed,
even faster than Mac's driving. Less than eight hours now
until sunset.

Brakes squealed, yanking her eyes open. A black car
barreling toward them barely managed to careen into
a narrow lay-by in time to avoid a headlong crash. A
rude gesture and an angry blast of horn chased Mac as he
sped by.

Heart slamming against her ribs, Artemis sucked in a
breath and tried like hell to find her balance. Unfortunately, Mac had flung it to the North wind. She had to get
a grip; without her magical balance, she might well give
up. And she would never do that. She'd give her last
breath, and beyond, to get to Zander. Her little boy. The
only person in the world she truly loved. And who truly
loved her back. Desperate tears stung her eyes.

A lump in her throat burned. But giving in to hysterics,
tempting as that might be, was not going to get her anywhere. If her stint in the military had taught her anything,
it was to face facts. She was, for all intents and purposes,
being held prisoner by a demigod. All the jokes and banter
aside, Mac was one pissed demigod. And rightly so. What
Artemis had done was unconscionable. But she hadn't had
any other options, other than giving up on Zander alto gether. And that she would not do as long as there was
breath in her body.

She fell back on her training. Analysis, then action. All
right, then. To-do list. Item one: escape Mac. Status: doable,
if the right circumstances arose. If he got distracted, or
eased up on his vigilance. Either was likely to occur eventually. She'd just have to be ready to jump when it happened.

Item two: find and raid one last faerie village. Status:
tricky. Once she escaped Mac, he was sure to put every
faerie settlement in the Highlands on alert. She'd never
get what she needed then.

It was possible, of course, to steal life essence from
other sources. Humans, for example. Mac, being Sidhe,
probably wouldn't care so much about that. But humans
hadn't a fraction of the life essence faeries possessed.
She'd have to steal from hundreds of people. If she lost
her balance and went too far... she didn't want to think
about it. The consequences could be disastrous. But it was
a moot point, anyway. It would take days to skim what she
needed from humans. She had seven hours and forty-five
minutes.

Sick at heart, she moved on to item three: make her
Samhain sunset rendezvous with Malachi. But what if she
showed up with less than the agreed payment? Would he
still deal? Would she have to offer him... additional
compensation? The idea made her shudder, but she knew
she would do it. What was her own pride worth, compared
with her son's life?

She pressed her hand to her chest. The moonstone
warmed her palm even through her army jacket. She
swore her heart had stopped beating for an instant when
the gem snagged Mac's attention. Thank the gods she'd
been able to distract him-again, with sex. Even without a
spell, they'd nearly crawled inside each other. And when their powers touched... that had been incredible. She'd
thought faerie villages were the deepest pools of life?
They were puddles to the ocean of Mac's immortal soul.

She froze.

Dear gods.

The answer to her desperate prayers was right here,
staring her in the face. Or, more accurately, sitting beside
her, driving like hell on wheels. She didn't need another
faerie village or even a throng of humans to resaturate the
moonstone.

She could skim Mac.

She'd only need a drop of his potent immortal life
essence. The question was-could she steal from him?
Without his knowing? Because she was dead certain that if
he discovered what she was up to, pissed was only the beginning of how angry he'd be.

She turned the problem over in her mind. The spell
she'd used on the faerie villages was out. The victims of
that spell had to be unaware of the spell-caster's presence.
Mac was only too well aware of hers.