Page 32 of Changeling (The Incubus Saga #2)

“So you’re not both fae then,” Faust said absently, looking completely assured of having the upper hand even if Nathan was still free to move about.

“I thought it was strange to have an incubus and a succubus working a case like a couple of seals. So it’s what, a strange partnership of seal and fae?

That still doesn’t explain why you’re all covered in incubus pheromones,” he said with a sneer at Nathan.

“What can I say?” Nathan shrugged. “Sometimes I just can’t help bringing my work home with me.” He dropped his flashlight at the same time as he reached for the gun tucked into his jeans. He had it out and steadied on Faust before the guy’s eyes had even left the rolling flashlight on the floor.

“You’re quick for just a human,” Faust said.

“You, too, I’d imagine.”

“Oh,” Faust smiled slyly, “I’m much more than human. I’m going to live forever. And no one, especially not you, is going to take that away from me.” Faust said that but he didn’t blindly fire at Nathan or Shiarra, not when a gun was also pointed at him.

“Funny thing about eternal youth,” Nathan said, nodding at his own weapon, “it doesn’t make you immortal. And I gotta say, if it was working so well for you, why did you have to start stealing memories again after all these years? Hadn't you had enough?”

A snarl twisted Faust’s face. “The thinning of the Veil is disrupting the spell, something I could have fixed with enough new memories if someone hadn't made the place collapse.” Faust spoke with anger now, circling Nathan, while Nathan remained in front of Shiarra.

“I suppose I have you to thank for that. Those squatters who lost their memories while the place was locked down had it coming. The last two sets of memories I received, however, were certainly a surprise, incomplete as they were.” Faust grinned. “Friends of yours?”

Shiarra made an angry ‘ouff’ behind Nathan, trying unsuccessfully to throw herself out of the runic trap. “You bastard!” she snarled. “At least my kind understands the preciousness of life.”

Faust laughed loudly. “Of course you do. And I’m sure your natural immortality has nothing to do with making that easier.”

“So let me get this straight,” Nathan said before Shiarra could retaliate; he had to keep Faust occupied.

“You thought you had taken enough memories to last forever, but with the Veil thinning, you were starting to age again, so you opened up shop on a couple unsuspecting people just looking for a place to sleep. What happened, the sidhe you made a deal with forgot to mention the warranty?”

Faust growled. He was continuing a constant circle around Nathan, while Nathan shifted in kind, keeping Shiarra protected behind him.

“Nathan,” Walter said from beside the runic trap—at least for once he hadn’t been banished since they weren’t actually dealing with a sidhe. “There, the chair,” he gestured not too far from Faust. “If you can hit it right…”

Nathan held back a grin at the suggestion. Just a little further , he thought.

“My dark sidhe master told me everything I needed to know,” Faust said. “He passed through the thinning Veil only weeks ago and told me how to fix my lost years. I just need a few more memories—”

Nathan rolled his eyes as the full truth dawned on him, and he cut Faust off.

"The dark sidhe tricked you, idiot. This kind of power localized to one spot?

It's like a manmade Power Point, only completely unstable.

The Veil is thinner here because of you, and that sidhe knew all along that once you served your purpose, your eternal youth would be gone and you'd die like you were never even here.

Stealing isn't going to work anymore. Your master just wanted a faster way through the Veil. "

"That's…ridiculous. It's been over a century since we first made our deal."

"A century is nothing to fae," Shiarra scoffed. "We’re immortal, remember, which you keep harping on. We have all the patience in the world. You're just a fool."

“You don’t even care about the people you hurt,” Nathan jumped in again. “The people you've hurt up ‘til now…you took their whole lives from them.” He watched Faust’s movements with deadly precision.

One more step. Just one more.

Then Faust stopped.

“I never forced anyone through the second door,” Faust said, his head held a little higher as his grip adjusted on the rifle.

It amazed Nathan how much he looked like that picture they had found—surfer blond hair that had looked white in the faded black and white photograph, handsome clean-shaven face, fit body—and he had been able to maintain that same appearance for decades.

“All anyone had to do to pass through the house safely was choose the right door," Faust said. "Plenty of' people in the beginning left unharmed. Everyone chose for themselves. Those squatters. Your friends.”

“My friends didn’t choose shit,” Nathan bit out. “They were sucked into that damn room when we tried to burn the place down.”

A smile quirked at Faust’s lips again. “Then they must have wanted it. They must have seen . Why do you think you were spared?”

Nathan didn’t want to hear this. He needed to get Faust to move that final step; this standoff couldn’t last forever.

Nathan shifted, pivoting again in hopes that it would cause Faust to move unconsciously forward.

“So I guess for you, as long as people always chose for themselves, the sacrifice was willing and you weren’t responsible. Right?”

“That’s the idea,” Faust agreed. “People look too much to the future these days and forget to live the now they are in. You can’t even begin to imagine how many people over the years chose the wrong door.

And why? All of them saw the same thing when they went inside.

Death . Death is all that awaits any of us with the passage of time,” Faust said as he at last took the small step Nathan needed in order to make his move.

“Well,” Nathan said with a grin, “you are right about that.”

Faust was standing beside the chair now—a chair on wheels beside a roller desk in the corner.

Nathan fired his gun, hitting one of the wheels of the chair and moving it just enough to hit the back of Faust’s knees and trip him, also successfully re-aiming the rifle to shoot into the ceiling instead of at Nathan or Shiarra.

Nathan moved in immediately, but he had been right about Faust being fast, because the guy was steady again by the time Nathan reached him.

Faust tried to reposition his gun, but Nathan grabbed the barrel with his free hand to keep it pointing up and tried to jerk it away.

The barrel was hot from having just fired, making Nathan grit his teeth.

While Nathan tried to reposition his own gun onto Faust, Faust took one hand away from the rifle to grab at that too.

Evenly matched, Nathan head-butted the blond in the forehead and ripped the rifle free.

Faust recovered quickly, however, and charged Nathan, causing him to back-peddle away from the desk and for both guns to slip from their fingers.

Using Faust’s own momentum against him, Nathan spun them around and threw Faust towards the back of the couch where he struck hard and all but crumbled straight to the floor.

Part of Nathan wanted to go for one of the guns again but that would put his back to Faust. Before Nathan could think of something else, Faust was already coming at him again.

Nathan hunkered low and swerved to avoid the first of Faust’s blows.

He came up with an uppercut of his own right into Faust’s stomach, winding the other man, but even with that, Faust managed to drag Nathan down with him by hanging onto Nathan’s jacket and going limp.

They fell to the floor together and, with wild struggles, Faust finally managed to get Nathan into a very experienced and effective hold.

“Nathan!” Shiarra called from what seemed like so far away within the runic trap. Walter still stood beside her, looking just as helpless.

“You have…what? Less than thirty years life experience? And you think you can beat almost two-hundred ?” Faust sneered.

He had an arm hooking both of Nathan’s arms behind him, which made Nathan’s eyes water with the pressure on his injured shoulder. All of Faust’s weight was centered on a leg that was thrown over Nathan to keep him pinned to the floor.

“When you’ve seen what I’ve seen, touched magic and fae as much as I have, you start seeing everything differently,” Faust said.

“Like being able to recognize a succubus and fool her senses. Or weave tapestries of memory just to steal a few meager years. The Veil is coming to an end, boy , and only an immortal will be able to keep up with the dark fae once they retake this world. They already have everything in motion. The chosen changeling has already been tapped. It is only a matter of time.”

Nathan felt a chill run through his body at the mention of the ‘chosen changeling’. His sore shoulder was screaming in pain, and he knew he was being self-conscious of the wounds on his chest, which was slowing him down.

“Ah, but you …I knew there was something about you,” Faust continued. “The house wouldn’t have taken you even if you had chosen the other door like your friends. Because the thing is…” Faust’s voice fell to a whisper beside Nathan’s ear, “…you can’t steal life from the damned.”

Nathan’s eyes went wide with fury, so angry that Faust knew , that he could tell as if ‘this life belongs to somebody else’ was written across Nathan’s forehead.

He could see Shiarra from his position too, and he knew she had heard Faust. Her face was filled with the most awful confusion.

Nathan didn’t want her to understand. He didn’t want pity from her, too. He was not something to pity .

Nathan struggled as hard as he could, and when he was sure Faust was confident in his ability to keep him pinned, Nathan went suddenly limp—just like Faust had done to him. This unbalanced and surprised Faust enough for Nathan to slip just one arm free. That was more than he needed.

Reaching back, Nathan grabbed a handful of Faust’s hair and pulled as hard as he could, rolling forward at the same time so that Faust flipped over onto his back in front of Nathan. Quickly, Nathan straddled Faust to hold him down, using one of his own effective pinning moves.

“Guess that makes me more Faust than you,” Nathan said dangerously. “You didn’t sell your soul to the Devil. You didn’t have to. You’re just like those damn dark sidhe bastards.”

Faust surprised Nathan by responding with a laugh.

“The thing about Faust, kid , is that even though he makes a pact with the Devil in that story, he still receives the gift of everlasting life.” With a broad grin, Faust slammed his body upwards, managing to get one limb free just as Nathan had, and sending further pain shooting through Nathan’s body at the contact to his chest.

Before Nathan knew it, they were struggling again, but Nathan was sick of this.

He was done. Some crazy youth-stealing geezer was not about to one-up him.

Nathan got in a good kick to Faust’s stomach, scrambled to his feet, hauled Faust up with him, and rushed for the nearest wall, slamming Faust back hard.

They were both breathing heavily now, but Nathan could tell that Faust was much more dazed than he was.

“For the record…” Nathan gasped, “Faust gets… redemption …you limp-dick. Not the same thing.” Nathan held Faust with one hand while the other reached into his jacket for where he’d stashed his ankle blade after opening the window.

Faust immediately tried to struggle again, one of his hands grabbing Nathan’s wrist to prevent the knife from coming at him.

“You know…with the right weapon…you can kill just about anything if you stab it in the heart,” Nathan said in a low voice, fighting against Faust’s hold on his wrist as he brought the knife closer and closer to Faust’s chest, “even a man.”

Nathan wasn’t entirely certain how he found the strength, but one final surge forward was all it took, as if his arm had been aided by some unseen force, and cool metal slid cleanly into Faust’s body.

He stared at Nathan wide-eyed, but he would get no sympathy in the replying look.

Nathan may not take joy in killing, but there were some people you just couldn’t feel sorry for.

Faust slid slowly to the floor when Nathan pulled the knife free again and stepped back.

He turned to find Walter standing just behind him, looking stunned.

Nathan merely shrugged, hoping his Spirit Guide didn’t think any less of him.

But Walter smiled, shaking his head as if to dismiss Nathan’s unspoken fears, almost as if his shock was from something else entirely.

When Nathan turned back to the wall, the actual moment of Faust’s death was made quite clear as his body turned ashen, aging years within moments until there was bone, and then nothing but dust that settled on the floor.

“How very Portrait of Dorian Gray ,” came Shiarra's voice from behind Nathan.

Nathan turned back with a start, but managed a half grin.

He had almost forgotten she was there. “Well…I was gonna say, how very Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade , but whatever floats your boat.” Nathan wiped his knife clean on his jeans, retrieved his lost gun, and then walked over to the runic trap.

He sliced through the circle with the blade, flicking the paint until the seal was broken.

“Thank you,” Shiarra said simply. Nathan didn’t miss how her voice was softer than usual.

“I’ll…get things set here so we can burn the place. Better if there’s nothing left. You call Sasha and see if killing Faust did the trick.”

“No,” Shiarra said, touching Nathan’s arm with a firm hold. “You call. I’ll take care of this.” Her tone allowed for no objection, and Nathan had the silliest urge to hug her.

She could say anything right now; ask him about what Faust meant—even though he had a feeling she’d already figured it out —say something about how cold he had been while killing Faust—though he was pretty sure she didn’t mind one bit—or who knows what else.

But she just took the last of his burdens and told him to call home.

Because wherever Jim and Sasha were would always be home.