On the Edge, page 27
“So it has to be something subtle. Can we poison them?” Tom asked.
Declan shook his head. “I doubt it. I know that the first time it was found, they had tried hemlock and arsenic on hounds with no result. Ideally, we need a slow-acting trap, something that would kill them slowly or in a gradual fashion so as not to alarm Casshorn out of his sleep.”
“Like drowning?” Tom asked. “Lure the hounds out into a lake and drown them one by one?”
“Possibly. Unfortunately, they can hold their breath for a long time, and they’re good swimmers.”
Silence fell. Leanne wandered over and came to sit in a rocking chair.
“Too bad we couldn’t electrocute the hound like that troll,” Declan said.
“Oh, now that is a capital idea, Sahgent.” Tom nodded. “Except we don’t know if electricity works against then.”
“It does,” Leanne said. “Before Karen Roe left for the Broken, she told me she killed a hound with electricity. Ta sered it to death.”
“How do you Taser something to death?” Tom’s eyebrows rose.
“Her mom got it into her head that Karen’s house would get broken into and bought her one of those expensive gun-looking Tasers,” Leanne said. “You pop a cartridge in and fire, then you disconnect the cartridge and reload. She’s kind of hard to buy for, so every Christmas or so the family would get her some of those cartridge packs. They’re like sixty bucks for two. She shot the beast once, but it didn’t croak, so she just kept reloading the cartridges and shooting it until it stopped wiggling. She said the damn hound cost her over two hundred bucks.”
“Well, we can’t take time to Taser them, and I just don’t see how we’d be able to stick each one of them with a live wire. They’d overrun us,” Tom said.
“Why don’t you just put the two together? Drop a live wire into a lake and electrocute the lot of them until they drown?” Rose asked.
The men looked up, and she found herself on the receiving end of two stares, one green, one brown.
“What?”
“That’s a good plan,” Declan said.
“It might work,” Tom said.
Declan glanced at him. “Is there a large enough lake nearby?”
“Laporte Pond,” Tom said.
Declan got up. “I need to see it.”
Tom nodded. “It’s perfect. It will take us a good hour to get there on foot, though, so if we want to go today, best to do it now. I need to check on my daughters anyhow, make sure they cleared out. Holly, I’m not worried about, but Nicki meanders like molasses in January. She was supposed to be out this morning, but I bet she’s still there, squatting on her bags like a mother hen.”
“I’ll come, too,” Rose said. “If you’re going to curse Casshorn, I’ll have to pick up a couple of things from Grandma’s. The boys are reasonably safe here for the time being.”
Leanne sighed. “That’s all good, but how are you going to make the hounds go into the water?”
Declan’s face was unreadable. “We’ll use bait.”
“Like what?” Leanne frowned.
“One of us,” Rose said. “The hounds are attracted to magic. He means me or him, Leanne. One of us will be bait.”
TWENTY-TWO
ROSE hugged herself and peered at the placid, tea-colored water of Laporte Pond. Twelve hundred feet long and close to five hundred feet across at the widest spot, the pond sat in a depression just west of town. Tall grayish cypresses flanked it like guards, their bloated trunks blocking the shore completely except for the far west end. A broken, dilapidated dock jutted sadly from the center of the pond.
Next to her, Declan crouched and dipped his fingers into the water. Tom Buckwell gave him a wide berth. Declan wasn’t buying all his “Aw, shucks, Sahgent” nonsense, and she suspected Buckwell realized that as well, because he watched Declan the way one would watch a large predatory animal.
“There used to be a rowboat,” she explained. “You could take it to the dock and fish. The boat sank about two years ago, and nobody bothered to get another one. And you can’t really swim in it—too much algae.”
Declan pivoted on his feet and glanced up to where twin power lines were etched against the sky.
“We’re stealing power from the Broken,” Tom explained. “Used to be there was no way to run a power line into the Edge. But about fifty years ago, the boundary crawled out farther into the Broken, about forty feet or so. Nobody knows what caused it, but when it was done crawling, we found a power pole in the Edge and the line was live. We got together and made a deal with the local co-op that owned the pole. We pay them a shitload of money, and they don’t ask what’s draining their power.”
Declan looked at the dock. Rose followed his gaze. The dock wasn’t very big. Twelve by twelve feet. Old tires hitched to its sides bobbed in the water. Either she or Declan would be on that dock, flashing to get the hounds’ attention. She’d been thinking about it for the last two hours, and the more she thought about it, the more certain she became that she should be the one. She could do it. Get on the dock. Electrify the pond. Flash a few times to attract the hounds and watch them pile into the deadly water. Simple enough. How hard could it be, right?
She pictured herself on the dock, surrounded by hounds. And what if electricity didn’t work on them? Alarm squirmed through her. No, it was a mistake to think like that. She raised her chin up a bit. It would be fine. Even if the electricity didn’t kill them, it would be fine. She had more than enough flash to deal with them.
If she stood on the dock instead of Declan, he would be safe. He could go after Casshorn while she dealt with the hounds. Casshorn would be asleep, and Declan would have an easier time dealing with him. If she could just occupy the hounds, he might come out of the fight alive.
Rose hugged herself tighter and glanced at Declan. He was looking at her.
“A man who knows what he’s doing could hold that dock for a long time,” Tom was saying. “I figure we cut the line there.” He pointed at a break between two cypresses. I know some fellows in town who work at a tire-retreading plant. We can get some bias tire tread—the stuff comes in rolls—and roll it out on that dock to insulate it and keep you from slipping into the water, ’cause if the beasts get to the dock, you’ll be standing in some slimy gore. We’ll get you some rubber-soled boots, and you’ll be good to go.”
“There is no need for him to be on the dock,” Rose said. “I can do it. I’ll be fine. My flash is almost as powerful as his.”
Tom made a low grumbling noise into his beard.
“Casshorn will be asleep,” she said. “His hounds will be occupied. It’s the perfect time for Declan to go after them.”
“No,” Declan said.
“Declan, this makes total sense,” she said.
“No.”
Tom shrugged. “If he says no, it’s a no. It’s his show.”
“Why the hell not?” She crossed her arms. “It’s a good idea. You won’t get another clean shot at him like that, Declan!”
He simply rose. “I’ll escort you to your house.”
Tom furrowed his eyebrows at them. “Well, you sort it out between yourselves. I’ll swing by my daughters’ places and pick you up at your house in about an hour. Two, if I have to drag Nicki out of the Edge kicking and screaming.”
THEY didn’t speak on the way to Éléonore’s house. Adele had plenty of supplies at Wood House, but any self-respecting curser preferred to use her own. If nothing else, Grandma would feel better with familiar things. Rose collected the twigs and herbs while Declan stood guard over her, and she had to restrain herself to keep from smacking him to get the grim expression off his face.
They returned to Rose’s house in silence. “Would you like some tea?” Rose asked as they went up the steps.
He nodded.
She went into the kitchen. He had no reason to be stubborn about it. Her plan made perfect sense. It also had one added benefit, which she decided wasn’t important enough to mention. If things went wrong—and they were bound to go wrong when you’re standing on a rotting hunk of wood in the middle of an electrified lake surrounded by monsters—if things went wrong, she would go down alone. Declan would still survive to fight another day. He had more of a chance against Casshorn than she did.
It was a good plan. She just needed Declan to see it.
She poured the boiling water into the teapot, set the tea to steep, and went in search of him.
She found him behind the house, at the woodshed. He sat on the bench, his larger sword on his lap, and he slowly, methodically drew a soft cloth along the blade.
Rose sat on a tree stump scarred with the strikes of countless wood axes and waited. He ignored her.
“My way is a good way, Declan. You know it is. My control is better than yours. I’m more precise.”
He glanced up. His eyes were pure white. Great, his brights were on, but nobody was driving. She had to make him see reason.
“Is this some sort of bluelood chivalry thing? Because I have news for you, you can’t exactly afford to be chivalrous, Declan. Right now, you’re an army of one with me as your National Guard volunteer unit. You have to let me help, and this is the best way to do it.”
He said nothing.
“At least talk to me, damn you!”
He set the sword aside and walked to her. The determination on his face shot a bolt of alarm down her spine. She backed away. He caught her and pushed her back lightly. Her back pressed against the wall of the house. She realized that for the first time they were truly alone, with no risk of interruptions. Well, if he thought he could bully her into backing down, he had another think coming.
“Rose.”
Rose jerked aside, but he barred her escape with his arm. “You’re stronger, I get it,” she ground out. She tried to push him aside, but she might as well have tried to push a train. He didn’t move an inch.
“Rose,” he said softly. “Look at me.”
She glared at him. Their stares connected, and there was something so arresting and possessive in his grass green eyes that words died on her lips. He looked at her like she was some great treasure. Like nothing else mattered.
He looked at her like he loved her.
Warmth touched her cheeks, and she knew she blushed. He looked her over, studying her neck, her eyes, her throat, slowly, taking his time. She was locked in his arms. The heat of his body seeped through the thin fabric of her shirt. She smelled him, that very familiar scent of sandalwood, and clove oil he had used to clean his sword, and sweat. His chest pressed on her, the muscles hard but supple, and her nipples tightened. She was caught.
“I’m going on that dock instead of you,” she said.
“No.”
“You don’t understand.”
“I understand perfectly.”
His big body braced hers. His hips kept her pinned. He raised his hand and slid his fingers up the side of her neck in a long caress, up her chin, and to her lips. She shivered. He brushed her lower lip with a calloused thumb.
“Kissing me won’t make me more agreeable,” she whispered.
“I’m not trying to make you more agreeable.” His voice was rough and low. “I just can’t help myself.”
The muscles on his arms flexed, and she realized Declan was fighting for control.
He swallowed, his eyes dark.
A million reasons to get away streaked through her head. He was a blueblood, and she was an Edge mongrel. He lied to her. He wanted to own her. They had no future together. He . . . If someone told her that right now in this very moment, trapped between the wall of her own house and Declan’s rigid body, that she could have one thing and one thing only before she died, she would choose to be with him.
Nothing good ever happened to people who didn’t take chances.
She kissed him, molding herself against his large frame, supple softness to his hardness.
His control snapped. He lunged for her, pushing her against the wall, and kissed her back, furious and passionate, drinking her in. The echo of the kiss rolled through her body, dragging a low moan from her. She slid against him, working her hands up the hard muscles of his back.
He pulled her to him and buried his face in her neck. His teeth and tongue played with her skin, rasping over the sensitive spot on her pulse, painting heat over her flesh. Warmth spread through her. Declan kissed her again and again. Her body tightened. He ground into her, and she slid up and down with him, giving soft resistance to the hard thrust of his erection.
His voice was a hot breath in her ear. “God, I want you.”
“I want you, too,” she whispered. She wanted him so badly that every time he touched her, she wanted to hold on to him to keep him from letting go. The thought of him standing on that dock, collapsing under the weight of hundreds of hounds, almost made her scream in frustration. He wasn’t going to die there. “I’m still going on that dock.”
His voice was low and so suffused with need, it was almost a snarl. “I know. I’m coming with you.”
“What?”
“We’ll do it together.”
He thrust his hand under hers, pushed her bra down, releasing her aching breast, and brushed the nipple. A jolt of pleasure, intense and unexpected, rippled through her.
“I can handle the hounds. You don’t have to . . .” she whispered.
“Yes, I do.”
He kissed her again, stealing her breath, and nipped her lip with his teeth. She pulled at his T-shirt. She wanted him naked, she wanted to feel his skin against hers.
He pulled away from her and swept her off her feet. “Bed.”
She wound herself about him, kissing his neck and the corner of his jaw. “Good idea.”
They tore through the house and into the bedroom. He dropped her on the bed, grasped the fabric of her T-shirt, pulled up, and the old worn-out cotton tore in his hands. “Sorry.”
“I have another one.” She pulled off his shirt and ran her hands down his body, from his chest over the hard ridges of his stomach, and then she was sliding him out of his jeans and rubbing her hand down the hard shaft of his erection. He made a raw animal sound in his throat and stripped the last shreds of clothing from her. For a moment she saw him towering above the bed, tall, golden, knitted with carved muscle.
She was too hot and too wet and too impatient.
He lunged for her, and she met him halfway, kissing, rubbing, stoking the fire inside both of them. His tongue played on her skin. He cupped her left breast, stroking the nipple with his fingers until it ached. She moaned. His hips slid between her legs. He dipped his head down and caught her nipple in his hot mouth, sending a wave of pure pleasure through her. She dug her fingers into the hard muscle of his back and arched herself, welcoming him. “Now,” she whispered. “Now, Declan, don’t wait.”
He heard her. His lips found hers. He thrust into her, and she gasped. Her body resonated with pleasure, wanting, demanding more. She ground against him.
He thrust again and again, deep, hard, building to a rapid fiery rhythm, his weight a steady sweet pressure on her. She was full, so wonderfully full of him, and she wanted more.
She kissed his jaw and his throat, and he thrust harder. She clawed at his back, taut with strain, and the aching need within her blossomed into a cascade of bliss. She felt herself rising higher and higher, propelled by his thrusts and lost in the hot glide of their bodies, until something within her snapped. Pleasure drowned her, smothering all thought. She screamed his name. Her body screamed with her, gripping him, pumping. He clenched and emptied himself into her with a hoarse growl. They lay together in a hot, sweaty tangle, and for a while, lost in the aftershocks, she couldn’t tell which limbs were hers and which were his.
“That was not the way it was supposed to go,” he said, his voice still raspy with echoes of lust.
“How was it supposed to go?”
He pulled her to him, closing his arms around her, and Rose sank into him, implausibly happy. He ran his fingers along her arm. “Slow and sensuous. Sophisticated.”
She turned on her side and kissed him. “How terribly inappropriate of you, Earl Declan Riel Martel Camarine.”
“You’ve remembered my name. I feel the need to celebrate this momentous occasion.”
“I thought we just did that,” she murmured, out of breath. “But if you insist on a do-over, I’m sure we can do this again in the near future.”
“Do you know what happens when you overflash?” he asked softly.
“No.”
“I’ve done it once.” He pulled her close, his muscled arm under her breasts. “We were trapped in a field while the Gaul’s summoners ran a horde of marloks at us. They’re simian animals, large predatory apes. There was no cover and no support. There were just the five of us, and we stood back to back and flashed. I remember my mouth was full of blood. My vision wavered. I felt like my arms were stretching out into the distance.”
“What happened?”
“William went into rending. Changelings do this once in a while, especially after puberty. They lose touch with reality and go berserk. He went crazy, and we just hit the ground, because when he rends, he kills everything. I’d asked him about it once, and he told me rending is going to the place where there is no God. Make of that what you will. When he finally wore himself out, the five of us were the only things alive on the field.”
“What would’ve happened if you had kept going, had kept flashing?” she asked.
“I would’ve died. I wouldn’t have even known it. You’d think that you could push just a touch further, and then the world would fade and so would your life.” He kissed her cheek. “I won’t let it happen to you.”
She frowned.
“You don’t know when to stop,” he said. “You overdo it. I’ve watched you flash for two hours straight, when you were trying to get Ataman’s defense down. You have no clue where your limits are.”
She rose on her elbow. “Declan . . .”
“There were times when I’ve deferred to you. The time when you stopped me from going after Simoen or the time when you told your elders about William. I did so because you understood the situation better. It’s your turn to defer to me. I know what I’m talking about, Rose. I was a professional soldier for over a decade. You’re brilliant, but you need training. If you go on that dock alone, you’ll die, and I won’t let it happen.”
