On the Edge, page 5
Four years had passed. All her dreams died a quiet death. She earned her living like most poor Edgers did: by working a job in the Broken for minimum wage, paid under the table. She cleaned offices and made enough to buy food and clothes and a few items to barter when the caravans from the Weird came looking to trade Pepsi, plastic, and clothes for enchanted goods. It was good honest work. It put food on the table. And it killed her a little to do it.
She looked outside where the boys sprawled in the grass looking at the evening sky. At least when her parents had her brothers, they had the presence of mind to have Georgie at a hospital down in town and pay a midwife from the Broken to make sure Jack was legal, too. Both boys had Broken birth certificates and social security numbers. But she had been born in the Edge. Her driver’s license was a fake, and her parents had to fork out a small fortune to the principal of her high school because her social security number belonged to someone else.
At least the boys were legal. And she wouldn’t abandon them the way Dad did. She would starve if she had to, but they would go to a school in the Broken. That was the great thing about the Broken: you could succeed there on brains and drive alone, no magic required. When the boys grew up, they would have more choices than she did.
Still, she wasn’t ready to put her dreams to rest either. One day, she’d find a way to live her life to the fullest. She was sure of it. She just had no idea how she would manage it.
FOUR
THE wind-up clock screamed at ten till six. Rose got up and went about her regular morning ritual: making coffee, fixing lunches, putting on her Clean-n-Bright uniform. She barely had a chance to taste her first cup of coffee when Georgie wandered out of his room, sleepy eyed, his hair tousled. He ambled over to the window and yawned.
“Would you like some Mini-Wheats?” she asked.
He didn’t answer.
“Georgie?”
Georgie stared out of the window. “Lord Sesshomaru.”
The demon brother from their comic book? “I’m sorry?”
“Lord Sesshomaru,” he repeated, pointing through the window.
Rose came to stand behind him and froze. A tall man stood at the edge of the driveway. A cape of gray wolf fur billowed about him, revealing reinforced-leather armor, lacquered gray to match his cape, and a long elegant sword at his waist. His hair was a dark, rich gold, and it framed his face in a glacial cascade that fell over his left shoulder without a trace of a curl. She’d seen that hair before, just before its owner leaped onto her truck.
The pommel of the second, much larger sword, protruded above the man’s back. The man’s gaze fastened on her. His eyes flashed with a white glow, like two stars. Tiny hairs rose on the back of her neck.
“That isn’t Lord Sesshomaru,” Rose whispered. “That’s much, much worse.”
“What?” Sleep fled from Georgie, and he stared at her with wide eyes.
“That’s a blueblood. Get Jack and get the guns. Hurry!”
ROSE walked out on the porch, carrying a crossbow. Behind her, Jack lay at the left window with his rifle and Georgie lay at the right.
The blueblood towered like a spire of gray ice just outside the ring of stones. Tall, with broad shoulders and long legs, he seemed knitted from menace and magic. It’s the wolf cape, Rose told herself. Made him look bigger and scarier than he was.
She stopped just before the ring of wards and looked at his face. Her heart skipped a beat. His features were carved with breathtaking precision, combining into an overwhelmingly masculine yet refined face. He had a tall forehead and a long straight nose. His mouth was wide, with hard narrow lips, his jaw square and bulky, yet crisply cut. It wasn’t a face whose owner smiled often. His eyes under thick golden eyebrows froze the air in her lungs. Dark grass green, they smoldered with raw power. She suspected that if she stepped over the stones and touched his face, he’d spark.
Rose leaned her crossbow on her hip and took a deep breath. “You’re trespassing, and you aren’t welcome.”
“You’re rude. I find it unattractive in all people, women especially.” His voice sent a light, velvet shiver down her spine. It matched him, deep and resonant. Now that the first impact of his impossible face had worn off, she saw a network of small scars near his left eye. He was real, all right. He bled and scarred just like the rest, and that meant he wouldn’t find bullets in his chest amusing.
“Get off my land and be on your way,” she said. “I have two rifles trained on you as we speak.”
“Two rifles manned by children,” he said.
Damn Georgie. He shouldn’t have let himself be seen. “They won’t hesitate to shoot you,” she assured him.
“I can rip through your wards with one blast. Bullets make no difference to me,” he said. A white sheen rolled over his irises and melted into their green depths.
Ice skittered down her spine on sharp claws. He could, she realized. This wasn’t an idle threat. He wasn’t the first blueblood she’d fended off, but none had talked or looked like him. People said that the true aristocrats, bred for generations deep within magic, were striking. If that was true, he must’ve come from the dead center of the Weird. “What is it you want?”
“What do you think I want?”
She gritted her teeth. “Let me make this completely clear: I won’t sleep with you.”
Surprise flickered in his eyes. Thick eyebrows crept up. “What? Why?”
Rose blinked, lost for words. He actually found it shocking that she didn’t fall over herself to spread her legs.
“I’m waiting for an explanation.”
Rose crossed her arms. “Let me guess. You’re the fourth son of a blueblood family down on its luck: no title to tempt an heiress and no inheritance money to purchase a noble bride. You’ve heard about the mongrel Edger girl who flashes white and decided that since you can’t have an heiress or a title, you can at least sire a brood of powerful babies, so you came to shop for a bride in the Edge. I have no time for people like you.”
“Trust me, you’ve never met anyone like me.” He made it sound like a threat.
“You mean an arrogant snob who’d force a woman into his bed without any regard for her feelings? Actually, I’ve met plenty. Been there, done that, bought a T-shirt.”
He frowned. “What do shirts have to do with anything?”
“There’s nothing for you here. Go away, or I’ll make you gone.”
He grimaced. “You’re rude, vulgar, and you speak in an atrocious fashion. You’ll take so much work before you can be presentable. And you actually feel that you’re a suitable spouse for me?”
That hurt. “That’s right. I’m rude and vulgar. A mongrel. That’s why you should leave me in peace. Run along to your fancy ladies. I’m sure one of them will gladly fall on her back for you and be overjoyed to pop out a litter of bluebloods. I won’t marry you, and I won’t be your mistress. Leave us be.”
“I have no intention of leaving until I get what I want.” He stated it as a fact and fixed her with his gaze. Fear blocked her throat. There was no give in those eyes and no mercy. Only savage magic and iron will.
“If I wish it, you’ll marry me. Shooting me, running me over with a vehicle, or trying to sour my disposition will do nothing to help your cause.”
She raised her chin. “I’ll fight you to the end,” she promised. “You’ll have to kill me.” She jerked her crossbow up, sighting his chest.
“I have no intention to hurt you. Go ahead and fire,” he said. “I won’t count it against you—it will save me some breath.”
She shot him.
It happened so fast, she barely saw it: a thin shield of purest white flashed in front of him, striking the bolt in midair. The metal and wood disintegrated. He looked down on her. “Your bullets and your bolts can’t injure me.”
Rose bit her lip, fighting a shiver. It took all of her will to continue glaring at his face.
The menace in his eyes eased a bit. “I understand why you insist on being unreasonable. This is to be expected, considering your upbringing. Still, we have a dilemma. I mean to have you as my bride. You mean to refuse me. A man’s home is his refuge. I have no wish to share mine with a feral cat who spends all her time sharpening her claws and thinking of inventive ways to flay me when my guard slips. Nor do I want to fight you, especially not with the children here. They might be accidentally injured, and witnessing our violent clash wouldn’t be good for them. There’s a traditional way to resolve this. Challenge me.”
“What?” Rose blinked.
“Give me three challenges,” he said. “Three tasks. I’ll excel at each one. When I succeed, you’ll come to me willingly and you’ll obey me.”
“And if you fail?”
He permitted himself a half smile. “Don’t concern yourself with that possibility. I won’t.”
“If you fail, you’ll go away and never bother us again.”
He shrugged. “Yes, that’s how those things are usually worded.”
Rose’s mind sped through the possibilities. “And if I refuse?”
A white glow frosted the green irises. The magic swelled around him, building. It buckled in his grasp, plain even through the two lines of wards. He was monstrously powerful. She got the message loud and clear.
Rose bit her lip. She had no choice. She couldn’t risk fighting him straight on, not with the boys here. He was very strong, and she wasn’t a pushover. He was right—if they clashed, the boys might get hurt just from the collision of their magics. Besides, she wasn’t sure she could win a direct confrontation. But challenges? She could do challenges. If you can’t outfight an enemy, outsmart him, trick him, swindle him—do whatever it takes to win. That was the Edger way.
“Three tasks,” she said, managing to sound upbeat. “Whatever I wish?”
“Within the realm of possible,” he said. “I can’t pluck the moon from the sky and hang it around your neck.”
“I want you to swear to the terms,” she said.
He sighed. “Very well.”
He pulled a narrow knife from his belt and showed it to her. The rays of the rising sun gleamed, reflecting from the wicked metal profile of the blade. “I, Declan Riel Martel, ade Dominik, ade Logran, ade Rotibor, Earl of Camarine, Lord of Longshire, Svyator, and Veres, hereby swear to fulfill three tasks given to me within the next two weeks by . . .” He looked at her.
“Rose Drayton.” He owned more titles than TitleMax. Maybe he could pawn some of them off, if he was short on cash. With his looks and pedigree, surely some Weird duchess or baroness would gladly marry him. What was he doing here, shattering her life?
“. . . Rose Drayton, provided they are within human limits. I swear to cause no harm to Rose or her family and lay no claim upon her or her loved ones while I’m engaged in this challenge. Should I fail, I swear to leave Rose Drayton and her family in peace . . .”
“Alive and uninjured,” Rose put in.
“Alive and uninjured. Should I succeed, I’ll gain a right to claim Rose Drayton.”
He sliced his palm. Magic lashed at Rose. She stumbled back. The ward stones rose a foot above the ground, trembling in empty air in a struggle to deflect the surge of his magic, and crashed back into their spots.
“Your turn.” He held the knife out, handle first.
Rose hesitated. He did swear. The oath was binding. He couldn’t cause her any harm. She stepped over the ward lines and reached for the knife. Her fingers closed over its carved bone handle, shaped like the head of a snarling cat. “I, Rose Drayton, promise to give . . .” God, she couldn’t even remember his names, there were so many. “. . . you three tasks. If you successfully complete them, I promise to come with you . . .” She paused. What exactly followed? She had to word it in the best way possible.
He beat her to it. “. . . and be pleasant and agreeable.”
“That will take a miracle.” She had expected him to add “and sleep with me.” The way he put it left her some wiggle room.
“You’re right,” he said somewhat mournfully. “We did agree on human limits.”
“And be pleasant and agreeable,” she bit off before he changed it and backed her into a corner. “I so swear.”
“Hopeless. The clumsiest oath I’ve ever heard. You’ve had no education at all, have you?”
She sliced her palm. Magic burst from her in an exhilarating rush, surprising in its intensity. The stones rose, shivering once more, and fell. She might not have his education, but she had plenty of power and a brain. She would handle him.
He nodded matter-of-factly. “You’re mine.”
She felt sick to her stomach. “We’ll start on the weekend,” she said, drawing herself to her full height. “Two days from now. During the week, I have to work.”
He turned and walked away without a word.
Rose stared after him. He was the sword that had just sliced her life in half.
The screen door banged open. She turned to see both boys on the porch. Jack glared after the blueblood. His eyes were angry. “You shouldn’t have promised, Rose!”
“I didn’t have a choice.” She strode back to the porch. “He is very, very strong.”
“What if he takes you away from us?”
“He won’t.” Rose looked after the retreating gray figure. “He’s a noble. He’s used to people falling over themselves to cater to him. But we’re not his servants. We’re Edgers. He might be stronger, but we’re smarter. We just need to stump him with a challenge. Don’t worry. I’ll think of something.”
“Can we hide in the Broken if we lose?” Georgie asked.
She sighed. “That was very smart, Georgie, but no. We can’t. First, my promise is binding. If I break it, it will come back to me in a very bad way, and I’m not sure being in the Broken would keep it from catching me. Second, some people from the Weird can enter the Broken for a few days without consequences. Even if we ran, there’s a chance that he would find us . . .”
And he was a lot stronger, too. Just the breadth of his shoulders alone showed the kind of strength she had no hope of countering. She had a feeling that if she shot him, he’d spit the bullet out, sling her over his shoulder, and drag her all the way into the Weird.
What she really needed to do was to stay home to make sure she could pick the kids up from the bus stop and watch over them. But they had to eat, and missing a day of work wasn’t an option. Her job, as bad as it was, was precious. Only businesses with ties to the Edge hired Edgers—the rest wanted a social security number and a driver’s license, and hers wouldn’t stand up to scrutiny. There were places unaware of the Edge that hired illegal aliens, but competition for those jobs was fierce, and they mostly wanted muscle for manual labor. She could be fired in a blink of an eye, and there would be a line of Edgers ready to take her place.
“It doesn’t matter,” Rose said firmly. “We won’t run. This is our home. We’re going to do what Edgers do best: we’ll fight dirty. But we don’t have to do anything about him till this weekend. For now, we just have to watch ourselves and think. Grandma can’t pick you up today. She’s off checking on something with Adele Moore deep in the Wood. And I have to catch a ride with Latoya, because our truck is out of gas. When you get off the bus, I want you to come straight home. Do you understand? Don’t talk to anyone, don’t linger, come straight home, get inside, lock the door, and don’t open it to anybody. Especially him.” She nodded in the direction the blueblood had gone. She fixed them with her stare. “Repeat it back to me.”
“Come straight home,” Georgie said.
“No lingering,” Jack said.
“Get inside and lock the door,” Georgie said.
“Don’t let the blueblood in,” Jack finished.
Rose nodded. It would have to do.
ELSIE Moore hummed softly to herself. It was near eleven o’clock. Time for the brunch. It was going to be a very special brunch, too: she wore her pretty blue dress and had her favorite baby blue silk ribbon in her hair. The sun still shone bright, the weather was pleasant, the garden flowers pretty, and the row of stuffed animals gazed at her with adoration in their plastic eyes.
Elsie smiled prettily, taking her seat at the green plastic table. “Mr. Pitt, Mr. Brosnan, Mr. Clooney, Mr. Bean, how do you do? Shall we have some tea and biscuits? It’s always a pleasure to see you, Mr. Bana.”
The bears looked suitably impressed with her excellent manners. As they should be—she was a lady.
She picked up the tiny plastic teakettle with little pink roses on the side and held it over Mr. Brosnan’s cup. The soft fuzzy paws reached for it.
She tsked. “Mr. Brosnan, I am shocked at your manners. You must wait until I’ve served the tea to all the gentlemen.”
The bear dropped his paws, looking ashamed at being chastised.
A nasty feeling crept down her back, as if someone had poured cold goose fat onto her skin. She gritted her teeth, trying to ignore it. This was going to be a lovely tea.
The feeling intensified. The sickening slimy magic stuck to her, trying to worm its way through her skin into her bony back, and deeper. It was trying to get inside.
Elsie dropped the teakettle and turned around.
It stood on the edge of the lawn, a thing knitted from shadows and darkness. It didn’t like the light and stuck to the shadows cast by the shrubs, blending into the gloom, so the only thing she could see clearly were its eyes: two slits of uniform, slightly luminescent gray, like slanted holes into a skull stuffed with rain clouds.
She threw a teacup at it. “Go away!”
The thing didn’t move. A second pair of eyes opened above the first, the same dirty gray. The top pair looked at the teacup rolling harmlessly in the grass. The bottom pair stared straight at Elsie.
The dreadful feeling along her back grew stronger. The cold slime slid its way around her neck and down. A faint prickling singed her chest and back, as if a dozen tiny needle-feet tested the durability of her skin.
Elsie screeched and swiped at the cups, grabbing the little plastic pieces in a frenzy and hurling them one after the other at the baleful eyes.
