Deception (Facets of Feyrie Book 3), page 19
Determined to follow through and check on her, I shake my head and keep going. When I come around the corner of the small picnic area, I find her, sitting on the table, her bare feet buried in the snow. She’s wearing shorts in this weather. Does she not feel the cold? Picking up my pace I take off my coat and wrap it around her shoulders.
“I don’t need it, Jameson. Take your coat back before you freeze your ass off,” she says in that emotionless monotone voice that gives me the creeps. I listen, and I take my coat back. Sinking into the warmth of it again I sigh in relief. I tried, so that counts, right? I didn’t come out here to piss her off and have her kick my ass.
“Do you need something?” she asks.
“Everyone is worried about you,” I blurt out.
“Yeah. So?” Since I don’t have an answer for that, I hold my tongue, almost literally. I’m biting it to keep my mouth shut. There are a million things I want to say or ask, but the majority of them will probably upset her, and I don’t want to do that.
“I want to go into town. Would you like to come?”
Her request surprises me, and honestly, no, I don’t want to go, but my mouth says, “yes. I can do some needed shopping.” I have no willpower at all, and when it comes to sticking to my guns with Iza, I’m a pussy.
“Get the car ready, please. I’ll be along shortly,” she says in that same creepy tone.
Bowing, something I can’t say I’ve ever done before to her, I turn and half-run, half-walk back to the Sidhe. Once inside, I yell for Adriem to get the car ready and wait for him outside. I’d rather be cold out here than pacing inside where people will ask questions.
“Why am I getting the car ready?” Adriem asks as he comes outside. He gets in and starts the car.
“Iza requested it.”
“Oh, well, then. Where are we going?”
“She only said into town.” Why doesn’t he ask her himself instead of grilling me?
“For?”
“You ask her. I’m not.” Maybe now, he’ll get the point. I climb in the car and pray for the heater to work soon.
“No, we’ll take her where she wants to go. I think asking her a bunch of questions will piss her off.” Duh.
A few minutes later the back door opens, and Iza gets in, silent as usual, but at least she’s dressed.
“Where to?” Adriem asks after staring at her a long moment in the rear-view mirror.
“Town,” she says with finality. Roughly translating to, stop asking me fucking questions.
“Okay then,” he mumbles under his breath and puts the car into gear. I think that’s the smartest choice, do what she says, and you get to keep your arms.
Plus, this is the first time she’s left the Sidhe in weeks, maybe she’s finally starting to recover. We can all hope, but my pessimistic side that didn’t exist before I lost my finger thinks that there’s a reason she wants to go there and none of us will like it.
I za
I DIDN’T EXPECT to get a call from ARMPIT. I didn’t expect I’d care to answer it either, but I did. Jarvis, the putz, claims to have information that I’d want because I’m hoping it’s the kind that leads me to things I can stab, I’m meeting him. He picked a local restaurant that I’ve never been to. I’m assuming he’s going to have men stashed everywhere. Humans are fragile. If they piss me off, I’ll show them how fragile.
I still owe them for their attempt to take the kids.
My eyes move across the two men in the front seat before looking back out the window. The roads have been ploughed, and snowdrifts are several feet high on either side, its ugly—piling it up that way, but necessary to get cars through. I wonder what this place looked like before humans came here. I bet the trees were thick and the forest floor looked ethereal with the snow blanketing it.
Jameson clears his throat, for the fiftieth time, and tries to look at me sneakily. He sucks at it, and I kind of want to flick his ear so he’ll stop giving me those cow-eyed looks of pity. At least it pulls me out of these weird, morose thoughts I keep falling into. It’s a constant thing now. I stare off into space thinking about shit that has nothing to do with anything.
When Jameson came and poked at me, I was thinking about who invented socks. Anything to keep my mind off— “We’re meeting the idiots of ARMPIT. He’ll bring a crowd because he doesn’t like to go on dates solo.”
“You call them ARMPIT?” Adriem laughs and chokes it off when no one else in the car laughs with him.
“We’re going to Brandi’s diner, off of the main street,” I say, as I turn to look at the two men hunched over like abused dogs. “I haven’t beaten either one of you yet, so quit acting as I did.”
“It’s the yet that makes me nervous,” Jameson quips, smiling at me, then immediately looks back out the front of the car.
Have I become the boogeyman for them to fear me in such a way? I only slung a few persistent people around who tried to physically bring me into the Sidhe. How fucking annoying of them to act this way, and if they don’t stop it I’m going to give them a reason.
“Why do they want to meet you?” I was wondering when Adriem would get around to asking. It’s a bit unlike him to go along without any kind of comment.
“I’m assuming because they want to bribe me with information, so I’ll go investigate their missing towns,” I tell him truthfully. I see no reason to lie.
“Are you going to?” Adriem has a bit of hope in his voice. He’s not a stay at home type any more than I am.
The last news report said that they’ve been finding bodies of people from the towns out of contact. All of them missing their hearts, which smells a lot like Blood Magiks to me. The schoth are spreading quickly. Video of sirens taking victims at a lake in New York is all over the world. Dragons too. Their guns aren’t working either.
Would it be so bad to check on the people? Fuck Jarvis and his bullshit, but the other humans—the ones being held or killed, they don’t deserve this. A not so nice smile tickles my lips. I’d get to stab something, after all.
“We might look into it, but not for fuckhead. We’ll do it for the people who are suffering.” Going head to head with the schoth is not something I can do, especially… nope, don’t go there. Leaning my forehead against the cold glass, I look back out the window. I can sneak in and have a bit of fun, maybe free some people.
“Okay, a road trip will be nice,” Jameson says, a bit of excitement in his voice. Up until this moment, I didn’t think on how he probably needs to get out of the Sidhe too. Ruthie isn’t the only one people are shunning, Jameson is getting it a little. Not so much anymore but it was relatively bad in the beginning. Honestly, I couldn’t find it in me to care at the time. Not sure I can find it in me to care now. He fucked up. I didn’t kill him. That should be something positive in his eyes.
Ruthie is still in the cage. I haven’t spoken a word to her since the day I put her in it. No one wants to execute an eighteen, freshly turned eighteen, year old girl. Especially one they’ve shared meals with, and laughter. I’m dreading it. I won’t lie to myself about it. It’s easier to leave her in the cage than deal with the dilemma of whether or not to kill her. Eventually, I will have to do something with her.
Doesn’t mean I won’t avoid it as long as possible.
We pull up to the diner, and I find Jarvis right away. He’s standing in front of the door, looking at his phone. Looking around the parking lot, I spot the twelve men he has stationed outside. Considering its winter time, the “construction workers” they’re posing to be looks incredibly out of place. How can they fix anything when they can’t see it because of the snow? Plus, they’re way too clean, because working in slush and muddy snow will not keep your boots looking brand new? Don’t see that happening, either.
The ones in the diner probably stick out like sore thumbs, too. Amateurs.
“There’s at least eight of them out here,” Adriem says, sliding sunglasses onto his face.
“There are twelve,” I correct him and get out of the car.
Jarvis sees me immediately and opens the door for me to precede him. Without returning the blatantly false smile on his face, I do. Inside I take a corner booth with my back to the wall. Adriem slides in beside Jameson and me across. Jarvis jabs at him until he moves over so the smaller man can fit in the seat.
“Thank you for coming.” The smile he gives me is real, although it’s more of a grimace than an actual smile. He hates that he had to ask me for help. “I honestly didn’t expect you to show up,” he says, resting his elbows on the table and steepling his fingers under his chin. This is his intimidation pose. I wonder if it works on anyone who isn’t in his payroll.
“You mean after you tortured and tested captured Feyrie and lied about having the wingless?” He raises his eyebrows and shrugs. “Yeah, I wouldn’t have bet on me coming either, but you have something I want.”
“Ah, yes. Information.” He takes a manila folder that the “waitress” hands him. Opening it up, he turns it towards me so that I can read the contents. There are several photos taken from an aerial perspective, from the satellites the humans have cluttering up their orbit, I’m guessing. The house is located in a rather wealthy looking area, if going by the size of the houses are any indication.
As I flip through the pictures, I see every angle of the outside of the house and even a few of the inside through an open window. It’s a vampire nest, and nest is a stupid word for a bunch of bloodsuckers, but they are drawn to them whether they want to be or not. Several of the people lounging outside at the pool are not vampires. They look too tanned and healthy. That means they’re shifters, which means this is the right place.
The included printouts list the address, estimated occupancy, and other bits of information. It also lists where they go, what they do when they’re there, where they grocery shop and what kind of toilet paper they buy. Jarvis is thorough. I’ll give him that.
“What do you want in return?”
“I need someone to go in and assess the threat these creatures are posing to this world.” Well, that was something I was thinking of doing anyhow.
“How many people have you lost?” He wouldn’t come asking for my help without having tried to do it himself and failing.
He stalls by clearing his throat and adjusting his tie. There had to be a lot of them for this kind of behavior from someone like him.
“The last count was two-hundred and forty-seven. Not counting civilians, which numbers in the thousands.”
“Do you know the exact number of civilians?” Jarvis’s goons are all private mercenaries. The military isn’t even going in. They’re keeping their distance and observing the phenomena. Can’t say I blame them, going by how many of his men are dead, I do not doubt that they are aware of, it would be foolhardy to send in valuable military to die too.
“Not at this time, no.” As expected, he doesn’t strike me as the sentimental type, more like the type that will sacrifice the few for the many—but in a shitty way. Like when they keep sacrificing until it turns into many.
“Okay, we’ll go in, however— I and my people are not yours to command or control. We do things our way, on our time and by our rules.” Conversation done I stand up to leave. Jameson and Adriem stand as well, and we file out of the diner.
“Four,” Adriem says.
“Seven, you two need to learn to be more observant.”
“How do you figure seven? I counted twice,” he argues.
“The large woman sitting at the booth next to ours was wearing high heels. Considering she was also wearing a postal uniform, it stands to reason that she’s not really who she’s playing to be. The teenagers sitting at the counter had chocolate pie in front of them, but neither one of them took a bite or looked at their phones. Instead they watched the traffic outside. How many teenagers you know prefer traffic over their cell phones?” I explain.
“Shit, I see it now. How did you learn to be so observant?”
“Survival,” I answer and get in the car. When Jameson does this weird shuffle between the passenger door in the front and the door opposite me in the back, I almost smile. He looks like someone is jerking him around on a string. After a few looks of worry at me, he makes the decision and gets in the front immediately striking up a conversation with Adriem about how Jarvis reminds him of a guy on the chocolate movie. The car salesman specifically. Picturing the character in my head, I bite down on my lip to stop another smile. He does resemble him. Damn them for making me want to do something besides be angry and mope.
“When we get to the Sidhe, I want you to call a meeting. We’ll choose who goes with us and take a small but lethal force. And no, Jameson, you’re not going.” I watch him visibly relax from his puckered butthole position. Just because he was kidnapped and tortured a little doesn’t mean I think he’s ready to fight schoth.
“What about Ruthie?” Adriem asks a bit cautiously. I choose to ignore the question and look out the window. He still keeps talking. “Iza, people are starting to complain.”
“Then have them kill her.” He holds his tongue from further comment. None of them want to kill her either.
I za
WHEN ARGUMENTS BREAK out about who’s going with us to investigate one of the schoth incursions, I end up screaming for them all to shut up. This is ridiculous, this bickering and yelling over something this important. Some of these people are hundreds of years old, but you’d never know it from their behavior.
“Auryn, Licar, Alagard, Adriem, Michael—Arista, you’re going with me. The rest of you will stay here and guard the fucking Sidhe. End of story.” The silence is deafening.
“Let me out of here, Iza!” Ruthie demands from her doggy crate. The mood I’m in leaves no room for her shit right now. Whispering a request to my annoyed hair, a piece detaches itself and slithers down my shoulder to my hand.
“Can you keep her in check?” It rears up like a cobra and growls. Turning I toss it at her. With a small splat it hits her face and as she’s yelling and clawing at it, while it attaches itself to her scalp then proceeds to bite her. She’s lucky it’s not using venom—even my hair doesn’t want to kill her. This whole reluctance thing is frustrating, she did something awful and got people killed.
Phobe was killed.
Gritting my teeth, I turn away from her and pause at the door. “If she tries to escape, kill her.” That’s an order for everyone remaining, including the strand, and the Sidhe.
“You can’t do this to me!” When she starts yelling again, I walk out the door. Of course, I can do this to her. Considering death is the only other alternative, I think she’s getting the easier end of the stick. A stick I should beat her fucking ass with.
Annoyed with myself I shake my head and prepare for what’s coming. I need to see the outside of the shield to know where to look for a weak spot. All shields have them, might take me smacking it a little first. A lot of it depends on the strength of the mage who created it.
The drive to get to the chosen encampment is close to six hours. I pack my gear in a duffle bag because sitting with knives and guns strapped all over me in a car crammed with people isn’t comfortable. Alagard’s elbow has made itself a home in my rib cage, while Licar—who’s in the front seat with a sleeping Auryn on his chest, has pushed the seat so far back to sleep that I have no leg room. They insisted on riding in the same car when we have more than one car to use.
Is this their way of getting me back for leaving them with a squalling Ruthie?
At least I can ignore the snoring from the old dragon. I’ve gotten so used to the sounds of it because sleep hasn’t been my friend. Instead, I wandered the Sidhe late into the night. While doing this, I developed the habit of checking on everyone while they slept. This is the reason that I know Jameson sleeps less than I do, most nights. When he does fall asleep, it’s in the library while pouring over information on the Guide. He’s trying to find a way to kill him, an answer I could give him if he asked.
Strip away the Magiks protecting him and slit his fucking throat.
As long as he’s protected by the motherfucker that killed Phobe, I can’t touch him—no one can. He’s too strong, layered with protections on top of protections, and anyone who tries to get him will die doing it. Looking at it straight on, it appears impossible. Ruthie, however, gave me some information that I needed without even meaning to tell me.
The key is the necklace, if we can destroy it, we destroy him. Something I’d like to do rather messily. I think I’ll do some wall art with his intestines, maybe use his skin to make a hammock. One that I’ll make Ruthie sleep on, so she never forgets what she did. I truly believe her being alive and aware of everything going on, will ultimately be a worse punishment than any kind of death—no matter how violent. Death gives closure. I don’t want her getting closure. She doesn’t deserve it. When Michael finds love again, he’s a good boy—man—so he will find it, that will be the icing on the cake.
“That look on your face does not bode well for some unfortunate soul,” Alagard muses in a sleepy whisper.
“She’s not an unfortunate soul. She’s an asshole.”
“Ah, I see. You know,” the scratching of him rubbing his beard fills the pause, “I’m a bit proud of you for not bending under the pressure of old laws.”
Looking over at him I chew my lip while thinking about what I want to say. When I decide I shrug and say, “I put some thought into it, and it had a lot to do with me not caving. Some old laws are okay to follow, like letting an enemy honorably defeated in battle become dinner or die in their way of choosing. But the Feyrie who made most of those old laws are dead and gone. Their time has passed, they did things their way. This is our time, now, which means our rules. It’s only fair that we do things our way, and people learn to adapt because that’s way more important than following old outdated laws. It’s the only thing that will save the Feyrie as a whole.”
“You’ve put some thought into this.” The surprise in his voice is almost insulting.
