Page 102 of Quicksilver

Jets of fire tore across the river once the first wave of vampires were in range. They went up like tinder, but the flames didn't stop them. Closer, they came. Closer still.

My arms screamed, my back a knot of agony, but I pounded the ice, the skin of my palms ripping as I swung the hammer down.

The ice shuddered and let out an unholy moan, and suddenly the whole thing shattered.

As soon as it happened, a carpet of black smoke rolled across the river, sweeping in fast. The vampires who had staggered out onto the ice plunged into the freezing water, and without hesitation, the smoke seemed to solidify and shove them beneath the surface. It grappled with them, pushing them down, wrapping around them, and dragging them to their watery graves.

“What's happening?” Carrion scanned up and down the bank, wild-eyed.

“Fisher,” I answered grimly. “This isallFisher.”

The vampires stopped coming. The huge Ice Breaker Fae still pounded and smashed at the ice both to the left and the right, but the rabid horde on the Sanasrothian side of the river didn't bother to come again. They snarled and moaned but maintained their position.

“Good evening, Kingfisher!” a voice called out from the dark. “I'm so glad you decided to come out and play! Won't you say hello?”

A fighter who had joined us along the same stretch of bank, a female with bright red hair, paled at the sound of that voice. So did a number of other warriors. “Is thatMalcolm?” She spoke as if she couldn't believe her own ears. “It can't be...”

“It's him all right,” a male with a jagged scar along his jaw said, glowering into the darkness. “He's come out of his fortress to taunt the commander.”

“But...”

“Come on, Kingfisher! Won’t you show yourself? I will, if that's what you’re waiting for!” The throng of monsters onthe other bank parted, and there he was. A tall, slender, unassuming-looking male dressed in black. His hair was straight as an arrow and white as snow, hanging down past his shoulders. His features were fine. Handsome, almost. Blood-red eyes scoured our side of the bank, as if he had no trouble seeing through the swathes of black smoke that still rolled across the surface of the river. “Come on, Kingfisher,” the devil called in a sing-song voice. “I know you're over there. It's only been a couple of weeks since we last spoke, but what can I say? I miss you.”

A rumble went up amongst the Fae at this. MalcolmmissedFisher? It had only been a couple of weeks since they'd spoken? The implication was clear. This Malcolm, king of the vampires, wanted everyone amongst the Fae to know that their precious leader, returned to them at long last, was in league with him in some way. Guerilla warfare at its finest. The easiest way to win any war was to create dissent amongst your enemy's ranks so that they wasted their time and energy fighting each other instead of you. It was a smart move but an obvious one. Still, from the looks on the faces of the warriors surrounding us, Fisher was going to have some explaining to do.

“Fine! Have it your way, darling!” Malcolm called. A cruel smile spread across his face, exposing a row of sharp teeth. “Hide behind your little friends. I'll be seeing you very soon!”

22

THE ITCH

He foundme half an hour later.

I was sitting in front of a fire outside the war room, drinking the hot cider that Ren had handed to me. His eyes were wild, hair even wilder. He made straight for me but barked out a question to Ren. “Have you got the annoying one?”

“I have,” Ren answered tiredly.

“Uh, I hope you’re not talking about me,” Carrion said, but Fisher didn't honor him with a response.

He held out his hand to me and said, “Take it, or I carry you.”

I gave him my hand.

“We'll be back in the morning,” he said to Ren. And then he stepped back into the swirling black vortex that appeared behind him and pulled me into the shadow gate.

Onyx growled, teeth bared, when I stepped into Fisher's bedroom. It was just as it had been during my forced incarceration here after the feeder attack. Moody. Full of shadows and dark corners. In other words, perfectlyFisher.I tensed when I inhaled, my head flooding with the smell of wild mint and pine needles, but it wasn't the room this time. It was the male himself, standing so close behind me that the heat ofhis body warmed my back. Fisher's tattooed hands came around me and worked deftly at the cloak's tie, unfastening it so that it slid from my shoulders.

“You never wore the dresses I put out for you,” he murmured into my hair.

“I don't want to talk about dresses,” I whispered.

“Fair enough. Let’s talk about food, then.”

“Food?”

He nodded. “Don't share food with that prick again, Little Osha.”

“What?”