Page 11

Chapter 11

Murder Husbands

Cian

T he drama in the pool stalled out, Rageshi returning to bathing, and Cian sighed, glad he wasn’t going to be treated to a show of seduction between Rageshi and Ricon. He had nothing against sex—he enjoyed it when in the mood. He just needed more of a lead-up to the event and he had never been one for voyeurism. At least Ricon didn’t seem to mind the attention—more confused by the amorous elder vampire than anything approaching dismay.

“I’m going to go check the trap I laid,” Cian said quietly to Rory.

“Bored?” Rory asked, not objecting. He read Cian’s mood easily. He hated being idle without anything to do, and he wasn’t tired enough to nap in the damp cave.

“A bit,” Cian replied.

“Be careful, brother,” Rory said. Cian nodded once and stood in a single motion, wiping dirt from his ass as he went to the passage. There was a steady breeze, the cave smelling of earth, fungi, and various critters. He didn’t mind being underground—mountain caves were part of his aspect and he was quite unbothered by their locale—but boredom was the true enemy and keeping watch at the entrance to the lair was something to do.

“I’ll come,” Fenric offered, and Cian paused long enough for Fenric to catch up. He led the way into the passage, tracing their footsteps back.

Going back took less time—Cian knew the way, his magic and the rocks around him telling him where to step, even in the deep dark of the cave, having left Daniel’s mage suns behind. As a cat, though, Fenric needed at least a bit of light, so Cian held up a hand and flicked his wrist, pulling a flashlight from the ether. He flicked it on and passed it back to Fenric.

“Thanks,” Fenric said, taking the flashlight and keeping it pointed at the ground and their feet.

Cian hummed softly in acknowledgment and kept going, eager to see the outside. It was still night, according to his senses, dawn still hours away.

They had just reached the cave junction with the multiple passages when Cian felt a bump in the ambient magical fields. Fenric paused next to him, feeling it as well.

“Is it Rageshi? Should we go back?”

Cian checked in with Rory through their connection—all was well back in the lair. “They’re fine. It’s from outside.”

Fenric nodded and took off at a jog down the path leading to the exit, Cian on his heels.

Jogging, they reached the exit far faster than they had coming in, though it still took several minutes, jumping and ducking over and under rocks and ledges and protrusions in the path, narrow in some spots and wide in others. There were no bats chittering overhead—the lair had been sealed against anything larger than a few cave insects, and that was odd to Cian, used to caves crawling with a variety of life. That small inconsistency was enough to distract him from the gradual increase of disturbances in the ambient magic fields.

“Practitioners are nearby,” Cian whispered to Fenric, who looked back over his shoulder with a concerned nod before turning back to the path ahead.

“Enforcers?” Fenric whispered back. There was more light ahead—the glamoured entrance was in view, and Fenric turned off the flashlight, handing it back to Cian, who dismissed it to the ether.

The glamour kept people from seeing through it, but some light from the night sky came through, enough for their eyes to function now that they were out of the deep dark of the cave system.

They both knelt on either side of the opening, listening and using what senses were available to them. Fenric’s physical senses were sharper, while Cian’s magical senses had more breadth and depth to them than the cat-sidhe’s.

With Rageshi awake, the blood magic spells on the lair were broken, fading away naturally, but bits and pieces of the blood magic were glittering like fragments of crimson glass to Cian’s senses, growing infinitesimally smaller as time passed.

The downside to the spells being broken was that the release of energy was drawing attention.

Cian heard it then—the thump thump thump of rotor blades. A helicopter.

“They’re searching for blood magic, and what was released in waking Rageshi is like a beacon in the night,” Cian whispered to Fenric, and Cian reached out mentally for Rory, telling his twin the same. “They don’t need to trace the medallion anymore—the lair is lit up like a bonfire right now with spell remnants.”

Rory was informing the others, his attention split, and Cian returned his focus to the sounds outside the cave. The enforcers that had been miles away now had air support, and were probably circling the area, looking for a place to land.

“I need to see,” Cian said, and he dropped the glamour and darted out into the smaller cave, heading for the small opening that led outside. He paused just inside, kneeling, Fenric following him.

About a quarter of a mile away and closing, the helicopter was louder in the ravine due to the echoes. No lights were visible, but Cian draped himself in a glamour to camouflage himself, and Fenric followed his lead, covering himself in shadow from head to toe. A glimmer of energy, and then Fenric was the large black wildcat, eyes catching the moonlight like silver mirrors, his feline form cloaked in shadows.

“Up the landslide to the trees,” Cian said quietly, Fenric nodded, big pointy ears flicking.

Cian darted out of the cave, Fenric a loping shadow at his side, and together they climbed the landslide of earth and rocks, a small cascade of dirt skittering downward at their passage. They reached the top of the ravine in seconds, and Cian and Fenric ran for cover, heading into the treeline and the deep shadows.

The helicopter was easy to see now that they were out of the ravine, the lights on the copter lit up like stars in the night sky, outlining the trees over which it hovered.

“It’s landing,” Fenric hissed. “Shall we welcome them to Rageshi’s party?”

Enforcers are landing several hundred yards to the west of the cave, Cian thought to Rory, reaching out to his brother’s mind. “We’re going to say hello.” That he said aloud and thought to his brother at the same time.

Fenric growled, long tail twitching, claws digging into the dead leaves under the trees. “You go right, I’ll go left.”

Fenric

Fenric crept through the underbrush toward his targets. Cian was off somewhere to his right, about twenty feet away, and if he hadn’t been so familiar with Cian’s magic, the sidhe would have been impossible to sense.

The forest was dry, the summer sun reducing the area to kindling that needed but a spark to send it into an inferno. There were few animals about, aside from birds, and even those were few for a nature preserve—Rageshi’s hibernation had created the subtle aura of a slumbering predator, and the natural world steered clear of the vampire’s lair.

A strong breeze rustled through the underbrush, bringing to Fenric’s nose news of the enforcers. The helicopter had landed, the rotors slowing as the helicopter was shut down. Bumps in the ambient magic fields spoke of several practitioners in the landing party, reaching out to gather magic, which meant wizard-ranked.

He stalked through the bushes to the edge of a meadow and hunkered down, waiting. Lights spun out overhead, tiny suns from various practitioners in lieu of flashlights. Fenric squinted, keeping the assorted mage lights from reflecting off his eyes, and counted the enforcers that exited the helicopter.

With not even a whisper of sound to herald his arrival, Cian slid from the shadows and crouched next to Fenric. “There’s another helicopter coming, but it’s several minutes out. We need to stall them. Constans is charging up to evacuate the others via The Way Between.”

“Why not the underhill?” Fenric asked.

“Daniel is too new at summoning it, and there’s no time to get it to listen to Rory—we’re seconds away from having company.”

“Underhill for us after we deal with this?” Fenric hissed quietly. Cian nodded once, the long braid falling from his shoulder. Fenric resisted the urge to bat at it with a paw.

With the blades finally still, Fenric was able to hear the enforcers speaking. Emblems of their office glittered on their shoulders. One of them was even a magistrate, likely the person in charge of the group.

“Stay together and stay quiet,” the magistrate ordered in French.

Rory

His brother was impetuous and far too reckless. Fenric was no better.

Cian was in the back of Rory’s mind, showing him the dark forest and the landing helicopter.

“What are they doing?” Daniel asked, eyes stormy with worry.

Rory gripped Daniel in a tight hug. “They’re stalling the enforcers. And staving off boredom.” He pressed a kiss to Daniel’s forehead and turned to Constans. “Connie, we should go.”

“The Council?” Constans asked, worried, and Rageshi watched them, gaze darting between them. They spoke in English for Daniel’s sake. Rageshi stood on the edge of the pool, dripping water, tying the new kilt around his waist, forgoing the t-shirt. He wore no shoes or other clothing.

“A helicopter landed less than a mile from here, the enforcers are tracking the energy released by the breaking of the spells when you woke Rageshi. They know the location of the lair.”

Constans nodded and Rory felt when the City Master began gathering his power to open The Way Between. “I need a few minutes.”

“Cian and Fenric are buying you the time.”

“Can we use the underhill ourselves?” Daniel said. “Though I’m not sure it’ll listen to me if I ask it to come get us.”

“Same for me,” Rory said with a rueful shrug. “The Way Between is familiar to Rageshi, regardless. Let us not stress him out by introducing him to the underhill just yet.”

“What about Cian and Fenric?” Daniel asked as Ricon spoke quietly to Rageshi, translating for him.

“Cian will use the underhill to evacuate.”

Cian

His daggers came to his hands with a flick of his wrists and a thought. The shadows were deep and the sky was bright with stars while the moon gilded the trees in silver. His daggers glimmered in the moonlight, sharper than the lines of shadow that fell upon the ground. Every step on the earth stirred the scents of fragrant grasses and sun-bleached rock. Everything in the moment was in sharp clarity, as sharp as his blades.

Eight enforcers, including the magistrate and pilot.

Eight souls about to die for the Council’s greed.

What a waste.

Cian stood on the edge of the meadow, Fenric in the shadows of the underbrush, pressing into the back of his legs with a soft purr. The wind kicked up, small flowers waving in the breeze, brushing over black fur and gray leather.

“Good evening, magistrate,” Cian called into the night, voice echoing off the trees and helicopter.

The humans startled, a few jumping in alarm, not expecting a welcome from within the trees upon their arrival. The echo confused the humans, heads swiveling to find the source of his voice. The magistrate saw him first, a man with a belligerent scowl and eyes that narrowed in suspicion.

To humans he was a silhouette of shadow and moonlight, an unknown danger appearing like a wraith, armor near black, hair rendered silver by the moon. In any other age he might be called a spirit or a forest god, and Cian was glad for the modern times he found himself in. Less superstitious humans to deal with—for the most part. No one fell to their knees in supplication anymore and asked for things he could not provide.

“Who are you, then?” the magistrate called out loudly, holding up a hand to stall his comrades. The humans eyed him with suspicion and some trepidation. “We’re on official High Council business. Best be on your way.”

“A curious stranger in the night, is all,” Cian replied with a slight smile. He raised his voice a bit for their human hearing. “What business does the High Council of Sorcery have in the Armenian woods in the dead of night?”

Fenric watched, jaws parted, fangs catching the moonlight, eyes shining bright in flashes of silver and red. His great head was at waist height for Cian, and he ran his fingers through soft, thick fur, scratching Fenric behind one ear. His companion purred, pressing his head into Cian’s hip, tail whipping in the fragrant grass.

“Our business is none of yours,” the magistrate shouted back, impatient. He gestured with a hand to the nearest enforcer. “Shut this one up, we’ve got somewhere to be.”

“How utterly predictable,” Cian said under his breath to Fenric, who growled in agreement. He’d been polite, too.

The enforcer nearest the magistrate headed for Cian while the others went in the general direction of the cave system. The enforcer didn’t even bother to shield himself—he gathered a spell of gold and orange lines that coiled about each other between his raised hands, a spell meant to cause massive fire damage, and he lobbed it at Cian.

Cian slid to the side a few inches, one hand gently urging Fenric to move with him out of the way, lest his fur be singed by the fire spell. The spell roared past his ear, smashing into the trees behind them, and Cian flipped the dagger in his right hand, holding the point of the blade in his fingers, and with a flick of his wrist, threw the dagger across the meadow.

A wet thunk and the grind of metal over bone, and the enforcer staggered a step before crumpling to the ground. The dagger glinted, lodged neatly in his left eye socket.

The magistrate and remaining enforcers stopped, shocked—and then with a harsh cry, several attacked him at once. Hands gathered spells, throwing them at him in a fierce volley, and he ducked and weaved through them as he moved forward, right hand out, calling back his dagger. It slid free with a harsh groan of metal over bone, blood flying in an arc as the dagger returned to his hand.

Fenric yowled, a terrifying sound in the darkness, and he leapt up from the bushes and tackled an enforcer, taking them both to the ground, the human screaming.

Cian dodged a spell lobbed at his face, spinning around another enforcer, hamstringing the man and dropping him to his knees with a single pass of his blades, before neatly slicing his neck and sliding away from the fount of blood that erupted.

Smoke clouded the small meadow—the spell tossed by the first enforcer had caught on the dry environs, igniting a small fire in the treeline. Cian took advantage of the building fire, slipping into smoke and shadow and circling behind another enforcer.

Three enforcers were dead.

Cian heard another scream, an aborted shout that descended into a gurgle. Fenric was busy. That was four dead.

Shields arose in the night, cutting through smoke and shadow, foolishly illuminating the enforcers within the half-dome shapes of light and energy.

Cian and Fenric were sidhe. A mortal practitioner’s shields had never been an impediment before and were nothing to them now. Cian sprinted through the knee-high meadow grass, and slammed through the shields of one enforcer, the man crying out in disbelief as a dagger found his heart through his ribs. The cry caught the attention of one of the remaining enforcers who, uncaring of his comrade’s fate, threw a spell at Cian and the dying man. The shield flickered out of existence and the spell passed through. Cian ducked behind the human, the spell finishing the job of taking his life, and Cian kicked the body at the enforcer gathering another spell.

The enforcer dodged the body with a curse and fell to the ground, scrambling away on all fours toward the helicopter. He managed to get to his feet and began to run, but a loping shadow cut him off and he stumbled to a halt, breathing hard. Fenric growled, eyes catching the light from the remaining mage lights spinning overhead and the growing fire in the trees. The growl was a deep rumble that shivered through the air, making the enforcer jerk in alarm, backing away from the cat-sidhe, caught between Cian and Fenric.

A blast of bright light from the left made Cian throw himself to the ground, narrowly escaping the spell that burned a path through the air where he had been standing a second before. The magistrate came out of the smoke, gathering another spell between his hands, eyes locked on Cian where he lay in the grass.

Fenric leapt and took the enforcer to the ground, the man’s screams choking off abruptly. The magistrate shouted in anger, and Cian took his chance.

No time for finesse—Cian called upon his aspects and pulled the air from the meadow in a vicious rush, wind sucking everything away.

The smoke fell from the air to pool about the grass, and the growing flames died to embers before winking out. The magistrate coughed, his spell fading from his hands, and he grasped at his throat. Eyes bulging, face growing red, the magistrate fell to his knees, gasping for breath.

Cian got to his feet, and with a few steps, crossed to the magistrate, who stared at him with wide, horrified eyes. Without hesitation, he cut the man’s throat, twirling away from the blood spray.

Cian released the world and let the air rush back into the meadow.

Everything was quiet, even the wind.

Fenric sat beside his last opponent, grooming a large paw, claws spread, eyes nearly shut in concentration.

Cian sighed, rolling his shoulders to release tension from the fight. “What a mess.”

“With Rageshi gone, the animals will appreciate a snack when they reclaim this area,” Fenric replied with a subtle growl, slinking across the meadow to join Cian. He moved like a shadow under the moon. Between one step and the next, Fenric was once again a man, a few stray droplets of blood on his jaw and neck.

“You fight like you’re dancing on a stage,” Fenric purred softly. Cian was entranced at the way Fenric slinked across the meadow, gliding, light and free, fluid and impossible. His heart was racing in his chest, from exertions or the way Fenric stared at him, he wasn’t sure.

Fenric came to a stop right in front of him. His breathing was fast, but surely not from the fight—it happened so quickly. Fenric’s lips were parted and his eyelids were heavy, reducing his eyes to a sliver of peridot green glowing in the moonlight.

“May I?” Fenric whispered, rising on his toes, one hand landing on Cian’s chest.

Cian was not entirely oblivious. Constant, benign physical contact and his avid fascination with all things Fenric gave way to a sudden awakening of what was really going on—Fenric wanted him, and Cian realized he wanted him back, too.

Cian nodded, breath shuddering before he held it, leaning down to meet Fenric.

His lips were soft, slightly cool, and they clung to his with an insistence that wormed its way into Cian and sank pretty claws into his belly. Mindless, he followed the sensations of the kiss, fairly chaste by anyone’s measure, but it rewrote the song of his emotions, inscribing Fenric into his body and soul. Soft, supple lips, a gentle rumbling purr of satisfaction, the sweet honey taste of his mouth with coppery hints of blood.

Fenric tasted like the fierce heights of battle and the sweetness of relief afterwards, heart beating strongly, pulse thrumming, extremities tingling with adrenaline and desire.

The kiss broke and Cian stared down at Fenric, blinking, trying to grasp his thoughts, and Fenric smiled up at him, sharp teeth glinting. His smile was sweet, despite the chaos he set off inside of Cian.

In that quiet moment, Cian realized something profound. He always wanted to be on the receiving end of that sweet smile, and if it came with chaos, even better.

“Was that okay?” Fenric asked softly.

Cian slipped both arms around Fenric and gently pulled him to rest on his chest, smiling down at the man in his arms. “That was more than okay.”