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Fifteen

T here. Right there on his knee. A smudge of dirt next to the perfect crease in his beige Armani pants.

Reynard pulled a pristine white handkerchief from his breast pocket and dabbed at the offending spot with short, irritated strokes. It must have come from the door when he’d climbed into the vehicle. The Mortal Plain was such a dirty place. He hated that about being here.

Not much longer now.

“I still can’t believe the fool didn’t realize he’d have to leave after what he did.”

He looked up at the young man who spoke. Ramos lounged comfortably in the seat across from him, looking as if he’d been born in a limousine. Reynard smiled at the thought even as he amended it. The young man had not been born in a limo—only conceived in one.

“It’s because, as you say, Ramos, he’s a fool.” He dabbed again at the smudge before stuffing the handkerchief into the ashtray. It was ruined now. Dirty. “Flynn could think of no other way to accomplish his task.” He shrugged. “It’s of no consequence to us now. He’d be useless in the next phase anyway. That’s why you’re here.”

“As always, Father, it is my honor to serve you.” Ramos bowed his head, shining black hair sweeping across his shoulders at the movement. When he looked up, laughter danced in his pale green eyes. “And my pleasure.”

“So eager to face a Guardian, my son?”

Excitement lit those eyes for only an instant before Ramos’s mask was back in place, hiding whatever emotion the man might feel. Reynard thought, not for the first time, how very like him his son was. Pity he was half Mortal.

“I look forward to releasing a Guardian’s soul, Father.”

“You want me to think you enjoy only the end result? I find that hard to believe.”

This time Ramos made no effort to hide his smile. “I relish the whole of it—the joy of the chase, the thrill of the challenge. And if along the way I can bring misfortune to a Guardian, well, it’s like dessert after an excellent dinner.”

Reynard regarded his finely manicured nails before looking up at his son. “The woman is the key. We mustn’t forget that. If Flynn was correct and the Guardian has claimed her, you do realize that taking her from him would cause him great distress.”

“Not only do I realize it, Father, I’m counting on it.”

Yes, so very like himself.

“Don’t forget you’re my brother during this visit, not my son.”

Ramos laughed. “Yes, the fact that we look the same age might be a little disturbing to the locals. Don’t worry, Father. I won’t let you down. Have I ever?”

“No, you haven’t. Of course, I’ve never asked anything this important of you before.”

Unflinching pale green eyes fixed upon his. “I’m quite aware of that. It’s because of what I am. Because I’m not a…”

The annoying chirp of Ramos’s cell phone interrupted their conversation.

“Yes?” His eyes met Reynard’s. “One moment.” He placed the small telephone to his chest. “It’s Qasim. His man in London wants to know when you’ll deliver the…item they’re expecting.”

Insignificant Mortal. Although he had served his purpose, Qasim was no longer necessary. Once he had the woman…

“Tell him there will be no delivery. I’ve no more time to waste on his petty problems.”

Reynard settled back against the soft leather seat and sighed deeply, his son’s conversation with the Mortal merely background noise to his thoughts. No longer would he need to deal with the annoying Mortals and their fanatic causes. No longer would he have to depend on the release of souls from their pitiful Mortal hosts to extend his life and keep him young. A female descendant of his people was within his reach. The real thing this time.

He glanced at his son from beneath lowered lashes. Ramos didn’t know about Qasim’s cause, nor the true nature of the items they provided the man. While Reynard trusted his son to deal with the vague details and the Mortals involved, he could never forget that Ramos was half Mortal himself. And Mortals had an irritating habit of getting emotionally involved in causes, forming attachments to other Mortals, to annoying ideals of right and wrong. Most inconvenient.

Still, his son had proved his worth on many occasions. His gift of inner sight had worked to ferret out traitors Reynard might never have found on his own. More important now, Reynard’s people were unable to battle on the Mortal Plain. But his son was not fettered with such a restriction because he was partly a child of the Mortal Plain—a half-breed. He was the Nuadian version of a Guardian. Reynard’s secret weapon. A weapon he had chosen at last to unleash.

If only he could have sired a girl child. While all descendants of the Fae had the ability to see their people in their true form, only female descendants could also see the gates to the Realm of Faerie. Males could see them only after they had been escorted through a gate once.

A daughter would have solved the problem long ago, but female children, rare for all Fae, were completely denied the outcasts. His people. The Nuadians. Yet another injustice he’d repay the High Council for when he made his way back.

Once he had control of this woman, this descendant of his race, it would be just a matter of time until he was back in his beloved Faerie Realm, standing at the Fountain of Souls. Just a matter of time until he dipped his hand into the fountain, drank his fill and immersed his body in the life-rich waters, insuring his immortality and continued youthfulness.

Just a matter of time until time itself wouldn’t matter at all.