Bewitch Me: The Red Veil Diaries: A Witchy/Fae Romance Page 6

  He straightened from the shifter’s lifeless form, the movement rotating the platform a few inches.

  Gareth spared a look for Lane before bending to rock the platform back and forth. “Fucking thing spins, like a carnival wheel. They played goddamned spin the bottle with him.” He kicked the wooden edge. “Fucking leeches made a game out of a gang feeding! Bastards!”

  A single chair with silk fetters sat directly across from the rotating platform. Lane moved toward it, lifting one of the silken ties in her hand.

  “They tied Eve to the chair, making her watch as Mason begged for his life.” Lane winced, images flooding as her fingers twisted the silk.

  “You have a choice, darling girl. Submit or your friend dies.”

  The Sidhe’s hands clutched Eve’s shoulders. Covetous and greedy. He wanted her, but she wasn’t the prize.

  “Where’s your friend? I had hoped the idea of a threesome would be appealing. She frequents these hallowed halls enough, I thought she’d be game,” he taunted, nipping her ear. “I could make you fetch her.”

  Eve’s nipples hardened and he laughed. His hands hadn’t moved from her shoulders, but her clit throbbed and with a single word, she came hard, crying out in her restraints.

  “We can do this all night, my dear. I want Lane Alden. My raven will come home to roost, if I have to kidnap every member of your precious circle. Your supreme eluded me when I wanted her, but this time I will have my quarry.”

  Lane’s hand went to her stomach and she doubled over, retching on the floor.

  “What happened?” Gareth rushed to her side, ripping the silk from her hand, breaking the vision.

  “There were three vampires, and they were all in some kind of thrall.” She dragged in a breath before meeting Gareth’s eyes. “Leith isn’t kidnapping Fae-kissed witches to regain anything. He’s looking for me. He wants me.”

  Gareth hesitated before nodding. “I know.”

  Straightening slowly, she wiped the back of her hand across her mouth. “What do you mean, you know?”

  He waited, almost as if measuring his words. “I was sent.”

  “Sent? By whom?”

  He pulled his hand back from between her shoulder blades. “Does it matter? I failed. Leith has Eve, and now you won’t stop until you find her.”

  “Of course, it matters.” She took a step toward him. “Gareth, please. Since I’m the one he wants, I think I deserve to know.”

  He exhaled, lifting a hand to his forehead. “Ten years has passed since you watched me burn, but for me it’s been no more than a year. No more than that since the Unseelie untied me from the pyre in the motherhouse courtyard, waiting for me to rise from the ash. They burned me in our own backyard, laughing from a distance as they watched you and the others try to save me.”

  “I was there, remember. We were too late.” She paused. “I was too late.”

  “You were spelled, Laney. You all were. They used a power the Seelie queen is still trying to decipher. All we know is it requires blood. Witch’s blood.” His eyes met hers. “Raven blood.”

  “Eve.”

  He didn’t reply.

  “How would they even know she’s Fae-kissed? She hasn’t completed her initiation.”

  Gareth looked at her. “They know. Almost as if they can smell the latency. They tried and lost with me, so taking a novice is the next logical step. The truth is, they can control a witch that hasn’t fully come into her power, and a Fae-kissed Raven is even more of a prize.

  “When they took me, they thought they captured a weapon. A rare Phoenix Fae, albeit a half-breed. One they could keep and bleed for their own purposes. What they didn’t expect was me taking an iron sword to their throats three days later, giving it back to them three times over.”

  Lane’s heart squeezed at the remembered visions she glimpsed. “Three times three. You have nothing to regret. You followed our rules. Whatever you put out, comes back threefold.”

  “Leave it to you to find poetic justice, courtesy of our Wiccan Rede.” His eyes flicked to the platform again. “We need to find Eve before it’s too late.”

  “We?” she asked. “You still haven’t said how you know about all this. By your own admission you said you were in Faerie.”

  Gareth’s eyes took on a gold hue, and Lane gasped, taking a step back. “You really are a Fae. Is there even any witch left?”

  “I’m still very much a witch.” He exhaled, shrugging. “I’m a half-breed, like you, but I’ve found acceptance and purpose in the Seelie Court. Light Sidhe can be capricious and impolitic, same as their dark Sidhe counterparts. They are quick to take offense and retaliate when given reason, unlike the Unseelie who are cruel for sport.

  “The Seelie queen is kind and does her best to be just. Well, as much as a Fae can be. There’s a tentative truce between the two courts. A common enemy will do that. Just look at the Vampires and Weres since the HepZ outbreak.”

  “You know about that?” Stunned, she looked at him.

  “There’s little we don’t hear about. You forget, Faerie mirrors the mortal plane.”

  She snorted. “I don’t believe that for a second. Soot, grit, smog. I don’t think so. The only things we share are greed, ambition, and debauchery.” She spared a pained glance for Mason.

  He lifted his fingers to her cheek. “What about me? Do you believe me?”

  The simple touch opened another cascade of memories and how Gareth was everything to her—

  Once upon a time.

  The way he looked now, with his lips parted, she angled her head to match his, primed for a kiss. She covered his hand, the urge to crush her mouth to his almost too much.

  He pulled away slowly. Lane didn’t fight him or say anything. Not because she had no words, but because she didn’t trust herself.

  “So, Golden Boy, how are we going to locate Eve?”

  “Golden Boy?”

  He was right. This was no time for humor.

  “Sorry, Gareth. If you’ve found something that works to help you heal, then who am I to poke fun? Maybe I’m jealous, but that doesn’t excuse the fact this entire situation is all my fault.” Her regret was clear, and she glanced at her feet.

  “No, Laney. This goes way beyond you. You saw the three vampires when you read the residual energy. Leith had help. From the inside. Both courts suspected as much. Why else would I be here? In this club?”

  At that, her head jerked up. “Wait, vampires are working both sides?”

  “Not exactly. But it explains why your shifter friend looks like a chew toy. It’s all about the blood, Lane. Nothing works in this club without it.”

  “It’s a vampire club, Gareth. Not exactly a trade secret. Despite the fact our blood doesn’t do the trick.” She lifted a hand. “Present company excluded, obviously.”

  “That’s a fallacy. Witch blood may be poisonous to vampires, but the Fae trace in ours counteracts that anomaly. You saw the effects for yourself with the vampire at the entrance. Fae blood in its purest form is more than a temptation for the undead. It’s addictive, the same way vampire blood is addicting to Weres.”

  She shook her head. “Not always. I know vampires and Weres who share blood and more, if you know what I mean. They consider themselves mates, and they’re perfectly fine.”

  “Weres and shifters don’t need blood for sustenance. Plus, they’re basically human, despite their dual natures, and can choose moderation. Vampires don’t discriminate when it comes to blood wants and needs. So, if a willing donor happens to be even more adept at manipulation than the undead feeding from their vein?”

  “Like a dark Sidhe.”

  He nodded.

  She wasn’t convinced. “If our blood is safe, and our Fae trace so alluring, then how come we’re not swarmed by trolling undead as if we’re their next meal?”

  “Two answers. One. Glamour. Two. The truth about Raven blood is a very well-kept secret. Purposefully well kept.”

  “This sucks.” Sh
e exhaled, puffing her breath out in an agitated rush. “Pun totally intended.”

  “I agree.”

  Lane crossed her arms, scanning the mayhem once more. “So, what’s our next move?” She hesitated, eyeing Mason’s prone body.

  “What is it? What do you see?”

  Lifting a staying hand, she walked toward the platform and bent over the restraint holding Mason’s right wrist.

  “Well, well, well.” She reached for the dead Were’s clenched fist, and untangled a few strands of long, yellow hair from his fingers. “I think our unfortunate friend might not have died in vain.” She held the glimmering strands to the light and smiled. “Bingo.”

  “You can’t scry for a Sidhe, Laney. They don’t respond to summonses.”

  She grinned. “Who said anything about a summoning? I’m thinking we use it to crush the bastard, but first we need bait.”

  “Oh, no you don’t. The first thing we need to do is get you to get to the motherhouse. Caitlan will have the place warded better than Faerie itself. I’ll take things from there.”

  “Not a chance.” She met his blue-eyed gaze head on. “There’s a dead Were in the backrooms of the Red Veil, courtesy of a dark Sidhe and his vampire minions. The bastard made it clear he wants me, so what better way to catch him than tempting him with what he wants?”

  “Lane, no.”

  She wasn’t taking no for an answer. “Look, I’m not suggesting I sit naked on a Faerie mound covered in laurels. We need a plan, and yes, that means Caitlan and the motherhouse library. If anyone knows why this Sidhe-tard wants me, it’s got to be Caitlan, or at the very least she’ll know where to look for the answer.”

  Lane moved toe-to-toe with Gareth, going up on the balls of her feet to press a kiss to his lips. “Think of how surprised she’ll be when we show up together.”

  Yeah, right. Just like old times.

  Chapter Seven

  Lane’s footsteps echoed in time with Gareth’s along the cracked sidewalks. The city slowed its pulse in the hours before daybreak, the near quiet unnerving. Especially when you knew what might lurk in the shadows.

  The motherhouse wasn’t far, but at this time of night even a short distance seemed to take forever. A fixture in lower Manhattan, the motherhouse watched in serene detachment as history molded and remolded the surrounding city.

  The house itself was an anomaly, a hidden treasure in plain sight amid diverse neighborhoods. Still, remnants of bygone days were evidenced in the cobbled streets that ran side-by-side with asphalt and rebar. Harkening back to the history that brought the witches to the New World.

  “A half hour ago, you chirped with ideas. Why so quiet now?” Gareth asked, sneaking a look at Lane as they crossed the street.

  “I’m preparing myself for battle.”

  “Good.” He nodded in reply. “Forearmed is best. Especially when you already anticipate the worst.”

  Lane slid a glance his way. “I can’t tell if you’re being straight or snarky.”

  Gareth chuckled. “Both.”

  “Gee, thanks,” she retorted, linking her arm with his. “You’re the one the Sidhe royals sent as reinforcement. I should be confident, not worried.”

  “Now who’s being snarky?” He chuckled again, but slowed their pace, his muscles tightening beneath Lane’s hold. “Caitlan did a good job. I can feel her wards from here.”

  “Par for the course. Her protective vibe has been on overdrive for months. I wonder if she has had premonitions about this all along.” Lane indicated the rich brownstone nestled inside a small fenced yard. “Home sweet home. The old girl hasn’t changed that much since you left.”

  “No,” he replied, taking in the elegant façade. “I’m surprised some developer hasn’t bribed City Hall to press for eminent domain to put up some glass and steel monstrosity.”

  Lane pressed the intercom on the outer gate. “I meant Caitlan, but you’re right about the real estate rats. They sic their lawyers and pocket politicos on us from time to time, but like you said, Caity Cat’s wards are very good.” She winked.

  The gate slid seamlessly into its sheath within the decorative front stone wall. “In case you hadn’t noticed, the gate and the entire perimeter are wrought iron.”

  Lane held out a hand, her delicate silver bracelets tinkling on her wrist. “Caitlan did that…after.” She gave him a quick smile. “Anyway, the iron is by design. She wanted to ensure we never had a repeat of what happened with you.”

  “You can’t put loved ones in a magic bubble, Laney. If someone is intent on harm, they find a way.” He took her hand, kissing it before folding it with his. “Still, I can’t blame her for trying.”

  The slate walk shimmered as they made their way to the front door. They climbed the wide stairs in awkward silence and stood on the porch.

  “You ready?” she asked.

  Gareth touched the raven-shaped doorknocker in reply, and the stained glass framing the sigil glowed.

  “The house remembers you, Gareth.”

  He smiled. “I half expected Caitlan to imbue all kinds of cosmic nasties in case I went over to the dark side.”

  “If she did, the cosmic karma would be for me, not for you. She knows how much I like cookies.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Cookies?”

  “The meme? Come to the dark side. We have cookies?” She curled her fingers, teasing.

  “Nope.”

  “I guess Faerie doesn’t keep up with as much as they think.”

  He smirked in reply, watching her press her hand to the front door. “Witchy biometrics?”

  The door lock clicked open, and she reached for the knob. “Layered spell work, but basically the same premise. Except ours makes the trespasser wish he’d never been born.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” he replied, but then hesitated as she turned the door handle. “Are you sure about this, Laney? I’m prepared to handle Leith on my own.”

  “This goes deeper than making a rogue Sidhe my bitch. I need to know my history, Gareth. Maybe that will explain why this happened in the first place. Whoever Leith is to me or to you, or whatever his relationship to either court, the truth needs outing. For Eve, but also for Mason. My gut tells me he was an innocent that got caught up in something he didn’t understand.”

  “Okay. I know you’ve got skills, and that Caitlan has your back, but this is not going to be an easy fight.”

  The sobering thought forced her to glance at the street, and how different things were twelve hours ago when she and Eve set out for their night on the town.

  The front door creaked open, pulling Lane’s attention from the street. A woman with long silvery-pink hair stood in the doorway, her large blue eyes sweeping Gareth before she uttered a single word.

  “So, the prodigal returns.” The large onyx stone on her index finger winked in the hall light.

  “Caitlan.” Gareth flashed a close-lipped grin. “As welcoming as ever. Though I didn’t expect you’d greet us yourself.”

  Her aqua eyes gave nothing away. “It’s the least I could do, considering how forthcoming you’ve been over the years.”

  “And she’s back,” he replied with a short sigh.

  Lane frowned at them both. “Give it a rest, both of you. Caitlan, you’re as happy to see Gareth as I am, so cut it out. We were all traumatized by what happened ten years ago, Gareth especially, since he’s the one that burned at the stake. I’m sure he has a long and interesting explanation for how he survived, and why he thought it best to keep that fact a secret, but right now we have bigger Fae to fry.”

  Neither said anything in reply, and Lane met Caitlan’s considering stare, despite the awkward silence.

  Lane exchanged an uncertain glance with Gareth. “Okay then. I’ll take your no comment as a yes.”

  She took a step toward Caitlan, still blocking the entry. “Are you planning to let us in, or should Gareth and I strategize from a hotel room somewhere?”

  Their Supreme step
ped to the side, the motion an acknowledgment of the situation, not an absolution.

  “Gareth, I had your old room prepared,” she replied, closing the door behind them. “I’m sure you can remember the way.”

  Lane spared her quizzical look. “I didn’t tell you we were coming.”

  “And I didn’t bake a cake, so we’re even,” Caitlan answered with a dismissive wave.

  “How-ja do. How-ja do.”

  Caitlan flashed him soft grin.

  “Okay, then. I’m sure that’s a private joke of sorts, and one I haven’t a clue about, but it only proves me right. You are happy to see Gareth, so cut it with the wicked witch stuff.”

  Caitlan considered the younger witch, giving her a half smile. “It’s not a private joke, it’s a hit song from the 1950s…If I knew you were coming, I’d have baked a cake…but I am guilty as charged. I’m glad you’re both home, though I am a little insulted you doubted my powers of precognition.”

  She sighed, letting her gaze fall on Gareth again. “It’s good to have you home, little frog, but don’t think for one second you’re excused from giving me a detailed accounting.”

  “Little frog?” Lane raised an eyebrow.

  “Long story. Don’t ask.”

  Caitlan winked at Gareth’s quick blush, but then sobered again. “You two can play twenty questions once this dirty business is put to bed. My guess is you’ll need our library, though I’m afraid you’re on your own. We all are, as I’ve sent the rest of the initiates into seclusion. I will answer what I can, but without our archivist, I can’t promise much.”

  “What happened to Grania?” Gareth asked. “Is she still full of piss and vinegar? I remember thinking she was so pickled sour, she’d live forever.”

  Sadness creased Caitlan’s face, and Lane elbowed Gareth’s side. “I’m sorry, Gareth. She died quite suddenly, last year. Caro has taken over, but a history like ours takes time.”

  Caitlan turned her eyes toward the stairs. “Go on up, then. Most of your belongings were put into storage, but I managed a pair of sweats and an old tee from a trunk I kept. They’ve been washed and folded and are on the bed in your room. I’ll see the clothes you’re wearing are washed and returned by morning.”