Facets of Feyrie Box Set, page 25
part #1 of Facets of Feyrie Series
“Even if you know it’s wrong?”
“I have no choice. I am bound to the alpha.” Well, I can have a peek at that. A tendril of my power wraps around the link connecting him to his alpha and scrutinizes it —a blood bond. I can’t break it without likely killing him.
“Come on. You’re coming with me.” I wave towards the house. He can listen, or he can die. It’s that simple.
“But I have to let my pack know what has happened,” he says. His back stiffens, and he raises his chin in self-importance. As if I will let him do any such thing.
My eyes pin him to the spot. “You will be able to do that soon enough.” It comes out more of a growl than a sentence, but it has the correct effect. He scampers in behind me.
As we walk through the house, I look around for Ruthie’s room. Some part of me knows the girl probably has something here she will want. I find it in the basement. A small room that faintly resembles the cell I previously lived in. A dirty worn out bed with clean sheets on it takes up the corner. Made neatly. In fact, everything is neat. What there is of it. Ruthie doesn’t have a lot. Grabbing a bag off the floor, I look for things in places girls will hide them.
I start in between the mattresses. In the dresser, I find pictures of a woman I assume is Ruthie’s mother, and I shove those in the bag. What clothes I find go in there, too. Pretty much everything Ruthie owns goes into the bag.
Well, I can fix that. I like to shop; it’s the dragon in me.
“Out there, you looked different. Now you look human. I’ve never seen a shifter do that before.”
Oh, I forgot about him. I remain silent.
“Did you guys clean up my mess outside?” I ask the fiends around me. I feel their answer, sending my silent thank you.
“Who are you talking to?” Ryan is a talkative fellow. It’s annoying. I continue to ignore him and walk up the stairs two at a time. Once outside, I stop right before we get to the car and turn to him.
“I have a fragile girl in that car. If you make one move that scares her, I will make you into a rug, is that clear?” He nods, then his eyes drop to the ground.
Submission looks good on him.
Chapter Forty-Nine
“Where are we going?” Ryan’s hand catches my arm at his question. I look down at it. I don’t like being touched. There are times it isn’t too bad; with kids or my fiends, my dad or—Phobe, but any other time and I’m not keen on it. Corn-fed in the car learned that the hard way.
If Ryan isn’t careful, he’s going to learn the hard way too.
I stare at his hand until he removes it and answers, “To your alpha. He and I need to talk.”
A serious talk. With one of us bleeding from somewhere, kind of talk.
“She. The alpha is a she.” I shake my head at his correction.
Feyrie women, even half-breeds, should be strong. They should be fighters. They should be caretakers and protectors too. Instead, most of the ones I’ve met are flat out rabid bitches that need put down. They should be like my mother, Nisha. A warrior who did everything she could to protect her child.
A pang somewhere in my chest causes me to pause. I press my hand to it briefly and continue.
Ruthie jumps out of the car, her fear stark in her eyes when she sees Ryan.
“He won’t hurt you, Ruthie. I promise,” I reassure her, lifting the bag into her view.
Ruthie drags her eyes from him and meets mine. “You’re covered in blood.”
I smile at her observation and show her all my sharp teeth. “It isn’t mine.” I get the reaction I want and am slightly surprised by. Ruthie smiles. I hand her the bag. Ruthie might not be the type to bring a souvenir, but she’s still of the dark.
“I wasn’t sure what you wanted, so I brought it all,” I half joke, trying to give a reassuring smile. Those sad eyes brim with tears. I find myself hugged before I can move. I stand there stunned until she releases me.
“Okay, let’s go,” I say, easing back from Ruthie. I wave a hand towards the back seat, and Ryan opens the door and freezes. “What?” I ask, looking at the shifter inside to make sure he’s still out.
“That’s the alpha’s son, Marcus.” Ryan sounds so scared about it. I don’t really care.
“So?” The bastard had Ruthie in the trunk of his car. His identity isn’t important. A dirtbag is a dirtbag.
“They’ll kill you for that.” This time I show him with my middle finger how concerned I am about them killing me.
A chill runs down my spine. The good kind. Sergean is here. Wait, dad…yes, dad. I have no idea why I still get nervous and sputter all over about what to call him.
“Doubtful.” The male voice startles them all, except me, I wave at him.
“Hi, Dad.”
“Hello, dove.” He smiles at me, happiness shining in his black eyes. I know that I’ve got a goofy grin to match on my face.
I love my Dad.
He crosses to me and runs a finger down the blood on my face, and his smile broadens. “I got your presents. I figured a visit was in order.” Their afterlife won’t be a picnic that’s for sure.
He kisses my forehead, despite the blood on me, and tucks me under his arm, turning to face the others. It makes me feel special. This is a good feeling to have. I keep myself from instinctively stepping away; can’t take dad hugs away from him, or me.
“I see why you want to keep those two.” I smile ruefully at his words. He would see, damn mind reader. His smile turns into a chuckle. His face loses its smile as he turns a serious gaze onto the beta, Ryan. “Now, why is he still breathing?” I look up at the face of my father, so like my own, and let him hear what I think about that.
Ryan has shit to make up for.
Dad looks back down at me. “Makes sense,” he muses.
“Need a ride?” he asks, turning to show me the black SUV parked behind him. The silver letters on the side spell out ‘humvee.’ Lots more room in that than the beat-up car we have, with a trunk that is flopping open. I don’t ask how he got it here.
“Grab blondie, beta boy, we’re going on a road trip,” I say, turning to my father. “You coming to play, too?”
He winks down at me. “I can drive you to the party. How about that?” Laughing, I climb in the front of the truck.
A quick trip through the drive-through replaces the calories I need. And feeds two hungry teenagers—well, for the most part. Magiks always have a cost. In my case, it comes from my body, and it demands copious amounts of calories to make up for my using it. A fact that works for me, I like food.
For Ryan, I get nothing. He hasn’t earned that yet. Ryan provides us directions, reluctantly, and we drive directly to a small town that’s completely inhabited by shifters. As we drive through downtown, what there is of it, shifters step out of the beat-up buildings onto the sidewalks, their eyes on the vehicle.
They obviously don’t get visitors here that often. They don’t like them either. Boy, am I going to make them dislike them more. I’d be a liar if I say I’m not looking forward to kicking someone’s ass again. I thrive on carnage—it’s something I admitted to myself a long time ago. I am what I am.
Oddly enough, the mix of dark and light marks isn’t even. Children are few, but there are some. Strangely, those few children are dormant marks. That’s unusual. When the parents are from the light side of the gene pool, the children are light marked.
Something’s wrong here
“Almost like the fates are trying to tell you something, eh Dove?”
I glance over at Dad and sigh. “How will they feel about what I’m about to do?” I don’t want to hurt these children in any way, and there is a chance I will be killing some of their parents tonight. Which, in turn, might hurt them.
“I don’t think they will mind. Look around you, really look.” So, I do. And what I see makes the temperature in the car drop several degrees. The children are all in the same spot, all except one. All afraid. All of them disconnected from the adult shifters around them.
“These aren’t their children, are they?” I turn to Ryan as I ask. He has the decency to look ashamed.
“They can’t seem to breed. So, they take over other packs. Most of the adults are killed fairly quickly, and the children are kept for… other things.” Other things? Is he saying what I think he is?
“And you participated in this?” Knowing the answer even as I ask the question, but I want to hear him admit it, see the answer on his face.
“I was one of those children. What else am I supposed to do?” His eyes fill with anger as he answers. I stare at him a moment, hard. I can understand surviving. I can. But I won’t forget how he chose to. And neither will he.
“When they hit a certain age, she uses a blood bond to bind them to her. She has some wizard she keeps here to perform the bindings.” That’s more information than I expected, but that’s my Magiks at work. I might not be able to influence a human or a Light Fey. But the Dark are all mine.
The alpha has a pocket Schoth. A prisoner, or a conspirator? Either way, it doesn’t matter; I’m still going to do what I came here to do. Now with a lot more pleasure.
“You like her?” I ask him nonchalantly.
“Like who?” He knows exactly who I’m asking about.
“The alpha.” His lips thin and he stares out the window. Watching him, seeing the answers in the expression he is trying so hard to school; I shake my head.
“You loved her. That was stupid, wasn’t it?” Sarcasm drips from my voice. I’m not trying to sound anything but.
“I don’t need some stranger reminding me of my shortcomings, thanks,” he bites out.
I consider smacking him upside the head but at the last minute, change my mind. It won’t hurt nearly as much as the guilt swirling around inside of him. I do understand the need to survive, but I bet some of the things he did weren’t to survive at all. They were done for the ‘love’ he had for that alpha bitch.
Which I can’t help but hold against him, dark mark or not.
“It will take a long time to make up for it. A lifetime, really. You’re stupid to have let a vagina convince you to go against your very nature. How did that turn out for you?” I snark.
When the ‘love of his life’ replaced him, because she did, I’d bet money on it.
With a growl of rage, he lashes out at me. I twist in my seat and catch his fist, pushing back. Leaning just far enough between the seats to put my face close to his, I snark back.
“We all have to face our mistakes, Ryan. It’s time for you to face yours.” I let go, and he sits back, shoulders slumping.
“What could you know about anything I went through, you pampered twit? I survived. That’s what should matter.”
The car comes to a tire-screeching halt. Dad turns slightly in his seat to look at the shifter. I watch from beside him, not sure of what is coming, but I’m incredibly curious about it.
“She managed to survive things that would make you piss your pants. You watered down dog. And she did it with only costs to herself. Do not think to judge her. Ever. Or I will send you to the land of death myself and make you suffer everything that happened to her. You live at her wish only.” How he manages to sound so menacing without raising his voice, I will never know. Speaking like he’s talking about the weather instead of telling Ryan he can kill him at any second.
I know another who can do that. An ache goes through my chest. I shove it down. Now is not the time to think about blue skin and sharp teeth.
Ryan’s words don’t offend me at all; he doesn’t know me, probably never will. But my father is offended on my behalf. I can’t help but smile. He turns partway towards me and meets my gaze.
“You protect them too much. They do not see you as you are, so they do not act accordingly,” he states and then clears his throat. He starts driving again, his dark eyes on the road.
“I love you too, Dad,” I whisper for his ears alone.
“What the fuck are you two?” Ryan demands, fear bleeding through his words.
A fiend appears directly in front of Ryan. Its red eyes meet his as it lets out an eerie howl, displaying two rows of razor-sharp teeth. It disappears as quickly as it appeared. His face pales, and he turns to stare back out the window. I wink at Ruthie and Michael, whose mouths are hanging open.
As we park, I look once more at Ryan in the back seat. Knowing, without a shred of doubt, I’m gonna want his head on a stick before the evening is over. Taking in a bracing breath, I open the door and hop out of the truck.
Dad comes over to my side and hugs me tightly. “Be careful in there, dove. Duty calls.” It always does. I try not to feel bitter about it. Really hard. I succeed, sometimes. A sad look at me, and he’s gone.
Cracking my knuckles, I grab the unconscious shifter out of the backseat and drag him behind me while walking towards the door to what was once a movie theater. It’s time to start the party.
Chapter Fifty
Almost struck blind by the color vomit in the room, I look around at the gaudy, eye-watering colors, a little sick to my stomach. It’s like walking into a seventies horror flick—something I’ve watched a lot of over the last few months. Bright gauzy fabric hangs all about the room. A four-poster bed with the same fabric takes up a corner, and most of the shifters are lying around on various pieces of ugly furniture spread throughout the room.
That’s a good way to maintain the theme.
They’re also wearing pleather. Pleather. Not the cool leather type but the shiny one that you use Vaseline to slide into. My lip curls in distaste. I’m not much for fashion but, god, do they have to be so cliché?
“Who the hell are you?” The demand comes from a gilded, golden chair sitting in the middle of it all. Seriously, a throne? I turn to look at the owner of the voice and right away can only see one thing.
Boobs. Just out in the open. Big fake boobs. Huge boobs.
“Boobs,” I mutter. Michael snorts and looks away from me to hide his smile.
“Ryan, why have you brought meat to my parlor?” I ignore her and manage to tear my gaze away from the sight that can’t be unseen. I toss the unconscious shifter at Ryan’s feet. Let him deal with it. I’m looking for something. Or someone. The Schoth that I can smell but can’t see, yet.
Ah, there he is.
With just a little effort, I pierce through his illusions to the man underneath. He dresses as gaudily as everyone else here. Well, now I know where the alpha gets her fashion sense. Schoth have none.
Lifting my hand, I wiggle my fingers in greeting to him. The look on his face is almost enough to make me laugh out loud. The Schoth has Light Magiks, but they aren’t strong enough to be a threat.
Not this time.
“Why is my son unconscious?” The way the alpha asks is just so… casual. So, motherly instincts aren’t the Boobs’ strong suit.
“My liege, this is,” Ryan clears his throat. He has no idea what to call me and so he looks for rescue. I shrug. “Honestly, I don’t know who she is, but she insisted on meeting you,” he gives in and answers.
“Love what you’ve done with the place,” I comment, wandering to my right to pick up a pair of pink fuzzy handcuffs. I eye them, a little disgusted at their purpose, and toss them at one of the shifters staring at me from the velvet chair I lifted them from. Subconsciously, my feet shuffle to the right.
Well, this is interesting. Something is tugging at me.
“So, I’ve come for the children. If you give them to me, I’ll make the damage minimal.” If one calls them all being dead ‘minimal.’
The alpha laughs, more like cackles, and looks to the Schoth who steps forward, pale-faced. He and I both know I shouldn’t be able to see him. And the fact that I can makes him nervous.
“Who are you to threaten me at all, meat? I am the alpha here. My word is—”
“Blah. Blah. Blah. I don’t care. Your pet can’t stop me, and he knows it.” The alpha turns again to the Schoth.
“My lady, she is not what she seems. You must be cautious.” The alpha laughs at his words. She isn’t that smart, is she?
“She is in a room full of my brethren and a mage. What can she possibly do?” I hear her words, but at a distance.
The Magiks inside of me twitch. Something pulls me harder towards one of the couches. I step around platters of food, pieces of strewn clothing, and the bodies of shifters sitting on the ground. The couch is in the dark, but I can see its occupant clearly. A boy of no more than ten lays upon it, completely nude. Bruises mar his flesh. Scars, some of them old, are all over him. Shackles tether him at the wrists to the velvet prison of the chaise.
His green eyes lift, and he looks at me. My breath catches at the emptiness in them. They’ve broken this child. Hesitantly, I approach him. I don’t want to scare him. I grasp the end of the chain and pull it easily from its connection. Kneeling, I carefully break the manacles on his bony, bloody wrists.
For the first time, I deliberately seek a connection with a dark mark. Through layers of trauma, through layers of Light Magiks—that I tear through with menace, I find it. I find him.
It nearly breaks my heart.
“Knox,” I whisper. Slowly he focuses those beautiful green eyes. He blinks, and the brightest hope I have ever seen flares to life in them. So, he’s not completely broken. My hand shakes. I cup his cheek, using my thumb to wipe away the single tear that trickles out of his eye.
“You came.” It’s a whisper of words, so soft. Filled with so much emotion.
“Oh, Knox—I’m so sorry it took me so long, but I’m here now. Are you ready to go home?” I’ve no idea where the words come from, but they feel right. A small, fragile hand lifts and covers mine. His fingers are even bruised. Oh, this poor child. I know what he’s endured. This is why I am here now.
To save him.
“Michael?” My voice is soft, but he hears me. He is at my side in an instant. I feel rage so profound it makes me shake, but I hold it in check. I must. It will scare the kids. That’s something I don’t want to do.
