Bittersweet Blood (The Order #1)

Christian shook his head. “Her mother was fae.”


“And her father?”

“Demon.”

Shock flared in Piers’s eyes, quickly replaced by disgust. “Great, just fucking great,” he muttered. “You know what this means, don’t you? She’s the one they’re hunting for. She’s the abomination.”

“Don’t call her that,” Christian growled.

“Okay, but you admit it—she is the one they’re looking for?”

“Yes. They must have sensed her months ago when she took off the talisman the first time. They’ve been searching for her ever since.”

“And couldn’t find her because she’d put it back on. Which is why they came to us.” Piers ran a hand through his hair. “You swore an oath to destroy her.”

“It’s not going to happen.”

“Look, if you can’t do it, I will. I’ll make sure it’s painless. She won’t even know it’s going to happen.”

Christian stopped, swung round, and placed a fist in the center of Piers’s chest. “If you lay one fucking finger on her, I’ll rip you apart.”

“You could try,” he said. “It might even be fun. We’ve never really known which one of us would come out on top in a fight. You want to go for it?”

They stared at each other for long minutes, unaware of the stream of humanity that parted around them. Finally, Christian dropped his hand. “No.”

Piers rubbed at his chest. “I won’t touch her.”

“Good.”

“But you’d better have a bloody good plan or this has all the potential to plunge us back into the dark ages. You remember the dark ages don’t you, Christian? Chaos and mayhem.”

“I thought you liked chaos.”

“That was before I got respectable.”

Christian almost smiled at the idea. Almost, but not quite. The problem was, he did remember. He remembered it well, and even for Tara he couldn’t justify plunging the world back into that. He had to find a way to neutralize the fae without tipping them over the edge into war. He suddenly became aware that they were on a busy street. People gave them a wide berth, but still they were drawing attention.

“Let’s get moving. I’ll tell you on the way. Where are we meeting?”

“At a bar, around the corner from here. I thought it might be better to be somewhere public.”

“The Walker was okay with that?”

Piers shrugged. “He agreed. So what’s this plan of yours?”

Christian spoke as they walked.

“You think she’ll agree?” Piers asked when Christian fell silent.

“It’s what she’s always wanted, and I can give it to her.”

“You won’t be able to see her again. You’ll have to cut yourself off completely.”

“I don’t know how else to convince the fae. Do you?”

“I’m not even convinced this will convince the fae, but it’s worth a try. And if that doesn’t work I vote for killing him.”

“The Walker?”

Piers nodded. “At least it will give you more time with her and me a great deal of pleasure.”

“And bring the whole fae nation down on us.”

“Might be worth it. I’ve always hated that guy.” He grinned. “I know. I’m a man with responsibilities now. I can’t go around killing people just because I don’t like them, but maybe we could make the odd exception.” He came to a halt. “Right, we’re here. Last chance to back out.”

Christian shook his head and followed Piers into the bar. The room was almost empty and a heavy silence hung in the air.

“He’s over there,” Piers said, nodding in the direction of the back of the room.

The Walker sat in the shadows, facing the door, and his eyes glowed in the dim light.

“I need a drink,” Piers said. “Christian?”

Christian shook his head and waited, impatient, while. Piers ordered a beer. The Walker rose to his feet as they approached. Christian studied him, searching for similarities, and once you knew to look, they were there to see. The Walker had Tara’s green eyes, her fine bones, even the blond hair was the exact color and texture. How could he have missed that Tara was fae?

“I hope this meeting is to tell me you have solved my problem and the abomination is dead.”

Piers took a sip of his beer. “Not quite.”

The Walker’s eyes narrowed, and his mouth formed into a thin line. “Then why am I here?”

“Sit down,” Christian said. “Both of you.”

Kicking a chair out from the table, Christian sat and looked pointedly at Piers. After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, Piers sank into the chair next to him. Finally, the Walker took his seat. “I sense you want something from me?”

Christian nodded. “I want you to release me from the vow I made.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Of course you can,” Piers said.

The Walker cast him a look of intense dislike. “Okay, I won’t do that.”

“I think you will,” Christian said.