Trueheart (Portland After Dark Book 1) (29 page)

She struggled to be free of Thomas and the kelpie and the binding cord that cinched their waists together. She had to dance, had to wave her arms, leave her heavy clothes and shoes behind, join that irresistible tidal flow, kiss the beautiful mouths that smiled at her...

...and whispered, "Salt. Blood.
Meat!
"

The whisper grew as the Hunt penetrated into the whirling heart of the spiral, until the leafy sibilance became the wild screeching of trees rubbing together in storms, of hellish violins, of the rabbit taken by the owl.

T
HOMAS
WATCHED THE WOMAN IN
his arms as her head twisted this way and that, following the movement of the fae in their Allantide spiral. He knew what she needed, for it was the same thing he needed. She needed to dance, to sing and shriek out her madness and grief. To fall into the arms of the male that drifted alongside them, his hand trailing along Tess's arm. Thomas batted it away, but it was back immediately.

Thomas turned her head from the dancers with hurtful fingers pinching either side of her mouth, and stared into her eyes. "Don't look at them, look at me."

She did, for a moment, then her gaze drifted to the stranger's hand on her arm, the one that lifted to touch her collarbones—a sweet, tender place Thomas had kissed and nuzzled only hours ago. He hissed at her harshly. "Look here.
Here
, damn you!"

This time she held his gaze for longer, staring into his eyes, the part that stayed Thomas, no matter what the rest of him looked like. The hand that had begun to coil around her throat slid away.

"Salt. Blood.
Meat!
" the dancers cried. Out of the corners of his eyes he saw their attention following the Hunt's progress the way daisies followed the sun.

"Don't look away!"

This, as Tess's gaze slid sideways. She looked back to him, and then she pulled his head down to hers, closing her eyes.

"You're real," Tess breathed. "I came here for you and the souls in this sack. I won't give in." Her fingers groped for the seeing stone, but Thomas rested a hand atop hers. She settled for wrapping her hand in the folds of Thomas's coat and burying her face in his sweaty neck. He felt her lips touching where his frantic pulse beat strongest. She breathed deep, and he wondered whether she was smelling Thomas the trow, or the whirling, summer-wine decadence of dancing fae. It could not be summer, here at the precipice into winter. It could only be glamour, and glamour was never true. Her senses might fool her, but her heart never would. Of this Thomas was sure.

"Salt. Blood.
Meat!
"

She whispered her doubt to Thomas. "Doesn't it make you need to dance with them?"

His chest swelled on a long inhalation. "Yes. Yes. Every single moment, yes. But I won't, ever again. I don't know if I can get you out of this, but I'm going to try."

The noise of the crowd receded, just a little. "We can do it," she promised him. "We can."

His laugh was brittle and sad, and she held tight to him, breathing him in, her hand cupped above his beating heart. Thomas thought of nothing else. No plans, no thoughts of iron or water or what they could do next. For a little while only Tess existed for him, the warm center of a very small circle scribed by the binding cord.

Then there came a dizzying moment when the center of the spiral was reached, a feeling like the bursting of a bubble inside him, and the coil turned to the other direction. They were coming out of the dance, and the absolute
need
seemed to lessen, the touch of the other dancers along their bodies, and those of the Hunt, less insistent or persuasive. The cries of hunger did not diminish, however. As the Hunt neared the outer arm of the spiral, they grew louder and louder.

Tess being Tess, she would not hide her eyes forever. She peeked out of Thomas's collar to see where they were heading. At the edge of the spiral was the set of arched double doors into the Queen's chamber, guarded by the two grinning, dancing kelpies. The Hunt picked up speed again, fueled by the tingling energy stored up by the spiral, and headed for the doors as if it would crash straight through them.

The kelpies flung open the doors at the last possible microsecond, as Tess was flinching away from the inevitable crash. The pack hit the doorway and stopped as if it had run into a glass wall, yelping and leaping over and over again in thwarted eagerness. But Hunter and their kelpie mount went blasting through, hooves and feet clattering and sliding on a floor as transparently black and glossy as obsidian, shadow given substance.

Hunter's antlers swung round to them as he stopped, his staff aloft in one hand. With his other, he gave a yank on the binding cord. Tess and Thomas toppled from the back of the kelpie, which leaned toward Tess with an unmistakable leer on its face, its penis sliding free of its horse-body sheath.

Tess turned away with a shudder, one hand struggling with the binding cord, the other clinging tight to Thomas where they sprawled on the shining floor.

"I call Hunter to Court, by the will of my Queen and the Law of the ages!" Thomas shouted, over the top of Hunter, who cried, "Salt! Blood! Meat!"

Tess hiss-whispered to Thomas, "Meat? Are
we
the—"

"Shhh."

"Give me another of your iron nails." Her hand groped over his coat and once again he stopped her. He had eyes and ears only for what was going on here in the Queen's chamber until he knew which way the Queen's inclinations lay. Since she had tried to poison him earlier that day, he didn't think he had much chance of winning his life away from the Wild Hunt, but he had to try. Tess might be the variable that changed the game.

Across the room, the curtains of the Queen's bed stirred. They moved like fog, like smoke, draped fantastically over rock crystal stalagmites. Thomas heard Tess's gasp when they drifted aside. He saw his Queen for the first time as if through Tess's eyes: beautiful in her languid awakening. She patted back a yawn in the exaggerated fashion of a stage actress. She sat nude on the edge of her bed, reaching her arms upward, her fingertips beckoning gently. From everywhere in the room came a flurry of pixies in her direction, and the woman was clothed as she rose.

Thomas was very still beside Tess, his attention riveted on the Queen.

Tess whispered to him, "She's the one who met Aaron! Is that the queen?"

Thomas nodded, not looking away from the woman by the bed. Her eyes were taking in everything: Thomas and Tess on the floor, Hunter beside them, the kelpie cringe-prancing in an ecstasy of terror and delight.

Tess moved a little. Thomas allowed himself a glance in her direction and saw that she had settled the tote bag more securely against her body, pressing her elbow down over it tightly. Good for Tess. It was best if she remembered afresh they weren't here for a friendly visit.

The Queen walked toward them. Thomas struggled to his knees, bringing Tess with him. Hunter's every aspect was cloaked in fury, but he had apparently made his official statement and was now awaiting comment from the Queen.

"Which is the meat?" The Queen halted, glancing from Hunter to Thomas to Tess.

"I," said Thomas.

"Pity." The Queen smiled at Tess kindly. "She looks delicious." Thomas knew the moment when Tess felt the compulsion of that gaze, a desire to do anything the Queen might ask of her, if only she would smile or allow Tess to remain in her presence. He saw the worshipful tilt of her face, basking in that smile's warmth. Such beauty could not intend evil. But then Tess's free hand crept into his and squeezed, and her spine stiffened. She looked past the Queen, to where something else was stirring in the bed.

Tess gasped. "Aaron!"

Thomas saw the dawning comprehension on her face as a hundred questions were answered, but he was sure a hundred more rose to take their places. She trembled in Thomas's hold. He tightened his arm protectively. Let the Queen see. She knew, anyway. Of that he had no doubt.

The Queen looked over her shoulder to the bed where Aaron stood naked and slumped in exhaustion, rubbing his eyes. Dismissively, she returned her attention to Thomas and Hunter. "What is it you have brought me, my huntsman? This is unusual."

Thomas and Hunter spoke at the same time, once again. "I throw myself on the Court's judgment!"

"He must trouble me no longer! He is your meat, my Lady!"

The Queen looked from one to the other, and jerked her chin at the kelpie, standing to one side, ribs heaving with the exertion of the long hunt. "Speak."

The kelpie gave Thomas a sidelong glance, and cringed away when Hunter raised a clenched fist. "He was our prey. But there was a moment of doubt, when we should have taken him, and did not, and thus he is entitled to your judgment rather than ours. My Lady."

Thomas saw the Queen's eyes change. A chill went through him as she appeared—only for a moment—to be nothing but blind fury.

The Queen turned to Hunter. "You have brought me my own knight. How came this? Speak the truth. And release them."

"Leave us!" Hunter shouted at the kelpie, which bared its teeth and then slunk toward the exit. Hunter thumped his staff on the floor of the room and the cord binding Thomas and Tess fizzled away like a cigarette falling to ash. Tess hardly paid attention as the kelpie left. She had eyes only for Aaron, who at last seemed to recognize her through his haze. She and Thomas got to their feet, slowly and painfully.

"Aaron!" she cried again, holding out her hand. "Come with us!"

"Come with you where?" interrupted the Queen. "Do you think you are leaving?"

Tess's gaze flicked back to the Queen. "We came to get Aaron and take him home." She beckoned him with an urgent hand motion. Thomas knew what was in Tess's mind. If she could just get him close enough, she could show him the things in the tote bag, and maybe—maybe he would take a marker and be restored, like Rory.

"But he does not wish to leave."

"He doesn't know what he wants—what's best for him—because you have bewitched him."

The Queen laughed, and every pixie in her dress laughed with her, tiny hands waving in mirth, tiny mouths shrilling amusement. "He has made a choice, that is all. We bewitch nothing. If the bargains are not made by free will, they are void." She looked over her shoulder at Aaron again. "Come, my love. Tell her what she needs to hear, so we can get on with this dreadfully boring discussion. Allantide wanes and I am not half done with my work, and my Court has not had its salt and blood and meat."

Aaron moved out of the drifting curtains of the bed, his eyes fixed on the Queen. He wore nothing except a torc around his neck, twisted of the same slender threads of gold as Thomas's armband. Twined amongst the threads were droplets of ruby—blood red, shining dully in the shadowless light of the room. When he was near enough, he took the hand the Queen held out to him, his eyes filled with adoration and need. He could hardly look away from where the pixies fluttered and crept and caressed his lover's breasts, her hips.

"Tell her, Aaron," the Queen urged him, as if he were a foolish child. "Do you wish to leave me?"

"No, my love. Come back to bed."

The Queen gave Tess a sharp-edged smile. "You see?"

"Why don't you let me speak to him alone? He probably doesn't really understand what's going on around him. Addicts sometimes don't, you know. And you've addicted him to something. I don't know what, precisely, but he needs to come with me."

Thomas felt the blood drain from his face at Tess's words. He would never have imagined speaking to the Queen in such a manner, but Tess had no idea of the fae's power, even though fae magic had chased them out of Tess's house before that same magic swallowed it whole.

The Queen smiled sweetly. "So bold. I see why Thomas is enamored of you. You are much like me."

Tess blinked. "Is that supposed to flatter me? Because—"

The Queen interrupted. "I do not flatter. I have no need of flattery. My people serve me because it is their desire."

Out of the corner of his eye, Thomas saw Hunter's antlered head lift as if he had been stung. Serving the Queen was a duty rather than a desire by now, for both of them. Thomas because he had at last found two things he wanted more than he wanted the Queen—his own humanity, and Tess. And Hunter...Hunter wanted what the Queen had. That much was clear to Thomas. But still she ruled them both, though Thomas did not understand the hold she had over Hunter. Perhaps the huntsman merely stayed close, biding his time. For a moment Thomas wondered what the Unseelie Court would be like with Hunter at its heart and head, and decided it didn't bear consideration. Hunter was a killer.

"I don't think we're alike at all. You've enslaved Thomas. I've seen your
thing
on his arm." Her hand flailed toward Aaron. "You've put one on Aaron's neck. How is that love? How is that desire?"

"So young." The Queen looked at Thomas. "You were once so young. Full of life and ideals, but never so full of spite."

"Aaron!" Tess tried again. "Your family misses you terribly. I saw your mother yesterday. She hasn't heard from you, and she's afraid something bad has happened."

Aaron still had eyes for no one but the Queen. His fingers touched the torc at his neck and lingered there. He stayed where he was, the smoky curtains moving gently behind him as if the bed were breathing.

"You see," the Queen said gently. "Aaron belongs here." Her gaze flicked to Thomas. "As do you, my knight."

"No! Neither of them belong here!" Tess took a step forward, slipping her free hand into the top of the tote. Her fingers closed around something and lifted it out, just as Thomas realized what she was doing and hissed at her to stop.

She held up a snail shell carved of cloudy pale stone and glittering with silver chased through the spiral, between her thumb and forefinger. When he'd seen it in Tess's house, it had seemed a prettily carved stone faintly touched by fae glamour. But now, here in the Unseelie Court, it had a shine all its own, a transient marbling like a curling tress of smoke trapped under glass, and that purple magic dancing along the silver like the sparks from static electricity.