Instinctively, she threw her hands up and froze the pillow in mid-air, the magick seeming to flow from her very core, warming her, and out through the tips of her fingers. She couldn’t see it – but she felt it.

  It was weird that, all along, she’d held this magick inside. And yet she had never once had a glimmer of it – aside from when she was near stones.

  “Sorry, but I needed to test you,” Blake said, stooping and picking up the contents of her toiletry bag from where they had scattered across the floor. Pausing, he held up a foil packet, and Clare blushed from her hairline all the way down to the tips of her toes.

  “We’ll not be needing that,” Clare said succinctly, grabbing it from his hand and shoving it back into her bag. She kept her back turned as she buried the small toiletry bag deep within her knapsack and worked desperately to calm her embarrassment.

  “I’ve cut up an apple and have some biscuits here if you’d like a little snack before bed,” Blake said.

  Clare turned, pushing her braid over her shoulder. “Thanks,” she said. She crossed the room and picked up a couple of biscuits, a slice of apple, and a bottle of water sitting on the table. Turning, she stomped back to the bed, then curled up by the headboard. Leaning over, she put her food on the bedside table – aside from the slice of apple, which she shoved in her mouth – and snagged her phone from her purse. Pulling it out, she pointedly ignored Blake as she began to scroll through Facebook to see what else was going on in the world.

  And almost choked on her apple when the phone was yanked from her hand.

  “Hey!” Clare said, coughing as she tried to clear her throat. Swallowing, she glared up at Blake who towered over her side of the bed.

  “You can’t use your phone.”

  “Why the hell not?” Clare asked.

  “Fae love electronics. They’ll track you quite easily. I should have told you to turn it off earlier.” Blake cursed long and low as he turned her phone off and handed it back to her. Clare looked at the small, seemingly innocuous, white iPhone like it was a grenade.

  “They can do that?”

  “Yes,” Blake said simply, then turned and went back to the table. He sat and focused on his food, making small notes on a pad of paper. Silence filled the room, and with nothing to distract her, Clare began to get antsy.

  “Any other rules I should know about, oh wise one?” Clare finally asked.

  “Don’t wander off on your own. Tell me where you’re going at all times. Don’t use electronics. I’m always right, you’re always wrong. That should cover it.”

  She almost threw a pillow at him. But, deciding to be an adult, she restrained herself. “I’m going to sleep. You’re sleeping on the couch.”

  Blake looked up at that, glancing at the couch – which was clearly too small for his large frame – and then back at her.

  “No, I’m not. But you’re welcome to sleep there. It will fit your size better.”

  Stuck, Clare stared him down mulishly. She really didn’t want to sleep on the couch. But she didn’t trust herself to sleep in the same bed as him. Angry, she pulled the top blanket off of the bed and grabbed a pillow. Refusing to meet his eyes, she walked to the couch. Crawling onto it, she pulled the blanket over herself to hide her body while she slid her jeans off. Pulling them out, she hung them over the arm of the couch, then turned toward the back of the couch, punching a cushion to adjust herself better. Lumpy and made of a scratchy fabric, the couch was not suited for sleeping.

  “I’d appreciate it if you’d turn the light off,” Clare finally said, so angry at the situation that she wanted to scream.

  “Yes, dear. I’m just going to get ready for bed.”

  Clare rolled her eyes as she heard him use the bathroom, then almost jumped when she heard the clink of his belt and the zip of his pants. It took all of her willpower not to turn around and take a peek. Instead, she pulled the thin blanket further over her head and prayed that sleep would come quickly.

  Or even at all.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Blake shook his head at her stubbornness as he slid under the covers of the bed. For someone who carried a condom in her toiletry bag, she certainly was a prude about sharing a bed. He could just see the red-gold sheen of her hair in the sliver of light that he’d left on in the bathroom.

  It was taking every ounce of his willpower not to walk over to the couch and yank the blanket off of her. He’d almost wept in delirium when he’d seen her jeans come out from beneath the blanket.

  He supposed that was what happened after a self-imposed celibacy. There were no rules about being celibate while being a protector. But it hadn’t taken long after he’d first seen Clare for him to realize that there was no other woman for him.

  Instead, he’d channeled his lust and angst into spending long hours at the gym, and into ruthlessly killing any Domnua that got within a city’s range of Clare. Now that her time had come, though, there were too many Domnua for him to handle on his own. It was best that they left.

  Clare made a noise in her sleep, making him sit up a bit to examine the bundle on the couch. Was she sleeping or was she crying? He held his breath as he listened.

  When another whimper came from the blanket, he slid from the bed and padded over to the couch. Silently, he stood over her. When she squirmed and whimpered again, he realized she was having a bad dream. Without another thought, he bent and picked her up, cradling her in his arms as he went back to the bed.

  Clare didn’t wake as he placed her gently in the bed, still wrapped in the blanket, and pulled the covers over them both. Instead, she whimpered again and turned and wrapped her arms around him.

  Blake’s eyes widened and he glanced down to see if he could see the gleam of her eyes in the light from the bathroom. But no; she still slept.

  Blake sighed and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, while she burrowed even closer into his side. At least she wasn’t whimpering anymore.

  Resigning himself to a night of no sleep, Blake stared up at the rafters and began to plan their next step.

  Which turned out to be a blessing. Had he been sleeping, he would have missed the Domnua who slid through the thin crack at the bottom of the cottage’s door.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  A noise like a keening wail woke Clare with a jerk. Disoriented, she looked around as shadows writhed in the sliver of light that fell from the bathroom.

  Remembering where she was, but confused as to why she was on the bed, she squealed as she saw Blake’s arm come up and drive a dagger through a shadowy being. A shock of silver light, a flow of liquid silver to the floor, and she suddenly realized they were under attack.

  Scrambling up from the bed, Clare pushed open the bathroom door so that the whole cottage was illuminated. Blake turned in a circle, his eyes resting on her for only a second as he continued to scan.

  “The window over the sink!” Clare squealed, having caught glimpse of another shadowy something. Blake whirled and moved at his superhuman speed across the room, his dagger flashing in the light just before another shock of silvery light slid to the floor.

  Blake turned and paced the room, flipping on lights as he went, checking in every nook and cranny he could find.

  Holding her hand to her throat, Clare decided now was not the time to comment on the fact that Blake was stark naked.

  But, my, what a sight he was to behold, Clare thought, as her eyes traveled over the intricate tattoos that snaked up his arms, down his back, and across his deeply muscular chest. Her eyes followed one particularly interesting tattoo that led right to his navel.

  “Look your fill?” Blake asked and Clare gasped, tearing her eyes away to rush past him and grab her jeans from the couch.

  “Why was I in the bed?” Clare demanded, changing the subject and forcing the embarrassment down.

  “You were having a bad dream,” Blake said as he pulled his pants on – without any underwear, Clare noted. He began shoving their stuff in bags. “Get packed. We need to get out.”

  Perhaps she should have realized sooner that they were still in a precarious situation, Clare thought as she rushed to shove her things in her bag. She pulled her jacket over her t-shirt and her knapsack to her shoulders. When a shout sounded from outside, Clare gasped.

  “Bianca and Seamus.”

  “Follow me out, your back to mine. Take this,” Blake said, tossing a sheathed knife at her. Surprising herself, Clare caught it. Testing the weight in her hand, she pulled the knife from its sheath, the blade glinting in the light.

  Oddly enough, it felt right in her hand. Not stopping to consider why, she followed Blake into the early dawn, her back to his as they made their way, step by step, to the other cottage.

  With only the faint promise of light on the horizon, the yard was swathed in darkness; the only sound was the light kick of wind across the hills. Adrenaline surged through Clare and she narrowed her eyes, scanning the yard, trying to pick up on anything.

  A streak of silver flashed across the yard and Clare hissed.

  “Left!”

  Blake pivoted and sliced through the streak, and the same flash of light and puddle of liquid silver followed. And wasn’t that fascinating? The Domnua glowed in the dark. Pleased that she would be able to pick them out at any time of the night, Clare began to feel a little more confident.

  Until she realized that if she could see them – they could see her.

  The thought sobered her quickly, taking her newfound confidence down just a notch, as they worked their way rapidly to the nearby cottage. Just as they reached the door, Clare paused.

  “Blake.”

  “What?”

  “The horizon,” Clare whispered, and Blake turned, immediately putting Clare behind him.

  The Domnua Blake had just killed must have been sent as a test. Because just clearing the ridge behind the cottages was a faint light, as though the sun were rising. But instead of golden rays brushing over the horizon, silver shot out.

  “Get in the cottage,” Blake ordered.

  “I can’t just leave you here,” Clare exclaimed. “I’ll fight too.”

  Blake turned and opened the door, shoving Clare into Seamus’s arms.

  “Hold her.”

  “Blake!” Clare shouted, but he was already gone from sight, racing into the horde of silver beings that careened over the hill.

  “Bianca, hold Clare. Blake needs me to fight,” Seamus said, turning and shoving Clare into Bianca’s arms.

  “I can’t just stay here,” Clare shouted as Seamus ran from the cottage, a silver sword in his hand. Seamus brandishing a sword was a sight in its own right, but Clare only had eyes for Blake as he slashed his way through fae after silvery fae.

  “We aren’t really going to let them fight this on their own, are we?” Bianca asked cheerfully. Clare’s head whipped around to look at her friend. With two daggers in her hands and wearing a leather coat Clare had never seen before, Bianca looked prepared for battle.

  “You’re not going to force me to stay in here?”

  “Since when have we ever let the boys do the fighting for us?” Bianca asked. “Let’s show these boys that we can hold our own,” she added, and raced into the dawn, Clare one step behind her.

  Clare’s heart stopped in her throat. There were just too many. It seemed as though they poured in from a never-ending spout. When one went down, the next flowed over the hill. Clare winced as Blake took another out, but not before the Domnua scored a hit on his arm.

  “Maybe now would be a good time to use that freeze-frame magick trick?” Bianca asked – then squealed and drove her knife into something behind Clare’s back.

  Clare didn’t have to look behind her to know that a silver puddle lined the ground.

  “Nice catch. Can you see them now? And good call on the freezing,” Clare muttered, turning to where the worst of the battle raged. Holding her hands out – and she wasn’t sure why she did, but she’d seen it in the movies – she mentally shot her magick at the Domnua.

  “Well, what the heck? Sure and you’re right…I can see them now, just a glimmer of something,” Bianca exclaimed, pivoting in excitement, “I wonder if it’s because I slept with Seamus.”

  Clare stopped for a moment to consider those words, but forced herself to refocus on the more critical situation at hand.

  Seamus paused as the Domnua that had just leaped at him froze in mid-air.

  “That’s a girl, Clare, right bloody brilliant of you,” Seamus called and made short work of seven frozen Domnua next to him. Blake, with his otherworldly speed, worked his way steadily through the crowd. Whenever they began to unfreeze, Clare just threw another bolt of magick at them.

  “Back here!” a voice yelled, and Clare whipped around to see a woman in a white nightgown race from the back of the farmhouse and slice a fae through the heart.

  From her pale violet glow, Clare could discern she was a Danula.

  Bianca paced the yard with Clare, circling her constantly as Clare steadied her breathing and focused on freezing anything that dared to step into her line of vision.

  Moments later, stillness greeted them, the only sound that of heavy breathing from Blake and Seamus.

  “Are we clear then?” Clare called, still circling with Bianca.

  “Aye, my wards aren’t signaling anymore,” the woman called, coming forward and wiping her dagger on her nightgown.

  “I’m Morrigan. I apologize that this happened on my property. I had thought my wards were intact but it seems they figured out a way around them. It won’t be happening again,” Morrigan promised, reaching out to shake Clare’s hand. Judging her to be in her mid-sixties, with fierce blue eyes and a grey braid that hung to her waist, Clare sized Morrigan up as someone she was happy to have on her side.

  “It isn’t your fault,” Blake said, coming to stand by Clare. “The Domnua are advancing. We’ll need to move on immediately.”

  “I understand. It was an honor to fight on your behalf,” Morrigan said, sweeping into a low bow in front of Clare. Startled, Clare grabbed her arm and pulled her up.

  “Please don’t bow to me. We’re all fighting the same battle. I’m the same as you are,” Clare said softly, the fine aftershocks of adrenaline making her voice shaky.

  “Ah, ’tis kind of you, Na Sirtheoir, but no, we are not the same. It’s I that should be thanking you. You’re fighting for the world as we know it,” Morrigan said kindly. “I’ll get coffee on while you pack your things.”

  Morrigan slipped across the yard, and Clare turned to see Blake examining a wound in his arm.

  “You’re hurt,” Clare pointed out, reaching out to touch his arm, but he pulled back from her. The slice didn’t look deep, but its edges were tinged with silver.

  “Don’t touch it. It’s one of their tricks. Once their poison is on you, they’ll be able to track you more accurately.”

  “Poison!” Clare exclaimed.

  Seamus had returned to the cottage and now came up to them, a small jar in his hand. Opening it, he dipped his fingers in a violet gel and smoothed it quickly over Blake’s wound. The silver disappeared and the wound knit rapidly. Clare and Bianca looked at each other in disbelief.

  “Well, now, we’d be billionaires if we could sell that healing salve,” Bianca commented and Clare nodded.

  “Isn’t that the truth of it?”

  “Enough talk. We must move. Don’t even think we’ve won the battle. They were just testing our strength. You’ll do well to remember this: While you battle for your world, they are battling for their freedom.”

  Which made them even more dangerous than Clare had initially assumed.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  They are fighting for their freedom.

  Clare kept repeating the words in her head as they bumped along a narrow lane, Blake having chosen to take the back roads away from the farmhouse.

  “Should I feel bad for the Domnua?” Clare finally asked, having worked her way around to what was bothering her.

  Blake and Seamus both laughed at the same time.

  “Not in the slightest, love. You’ll do well to remember that they’ll murder you without a second thought,” Seamus said.

  “Yeah, but, I mean, why? Like, is there any way we could all co-exist? You know how we feel about slavery and all.” Clare shrugged, feeling a bit stupid but still wanting to know the answer.

  “They’ve always been bad,” Blake said, looking over at her. “They are of the dark underworld. Living on this plane of existence would not change their inherent darkness. It would only give them another playground.”

  “They’re not like us, Clare,” Seamus said. “They don’t view right and wrong the way we do. There is no conscience. I suppose we’d call them sociopaths.”

  “I have a question,” Bianca piped up, and Seamus slid his arm around her. Clare had noticed they pretty much hadn’t stopped touching each other since the battle this morning, and she wondered what had transpired in the cottage during the night.

  “How come they can be here? I mean, if Blake has been protecting Clare from them for years, and they seem to be able to just pop up out of nowhere and try to kill her – aren’t they already free? Or here? What’s stopping them?”

  “Because the ones who come here to walk the earth are their army. Somehow, along the way, or woven into the curse, they were granted access.”

  “Well, then why wouldn’t they just put their entire population into the army and come live on earth?” Bianca asked.

  Silence filled the car for a moment.

  “I have absolutely no idea. And isn’t that a terrifying thought,” Blake admitted. “Though now that it’s been brought up I’ll be sure to report it. We wouldn’t want them to get ahead of themselves now, would we?”

  “Is there a higher-up you’re reporting to then?” Clare asked.

  “Something like that,” Blake said, then pressed his lips together.

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20