“Precision” and “expediency” rank right up there with “grace” as Jada’s middle freaking names. I puked on the ferry. She sure didn’t. I caught the lovely, not-one-hair-out-of-place Jada scornfully regarding my projectile over the side. We were all testy and tired and the passage was stormy and I don’t have sea legs.
Now we’re in Austria and it’s cold, and although I dressed warmly, anticipating a mountainous climb, I wish I’d put on more layers. I’ve been in a Hummer H1, modified for comfort—as if such a thing is possible in a Hummer—for a day and a half straight, sharing the front seat, half astride its enormous console with Barrons and Ryodan on either side. They put Dageus and Drustan in the backseat, and Jada behind them, to keep her and me as far apart as possible, although, loath though I am to admit it, she’s the most even-tempered of us all, relaxed, focused, and apparently undisturbed by any facet of her current physical conditions.
Sprawled like a long-legged, curvy commando in the far back on top of rappelling gear, gloves, grappling hooks, and other assorted supplies, and aside from eating protein bars and jerky constantly, Jada looks smoothly in her element.
The interior of the Hummer smells of beef jerky. And testosterone. It’s been the most trying road trip I’ve ever been on.
Before plotting our course, we’d studied Ryodan’s map of the many places that were iced, so we could avoid treacherous black holes. Between dodging untethered IFPs—other countries lack the Nine to tidy up for them—detouring around blocked roads and freeways, having to find petrol for the ferry, and siphoning abandoned vehicles for more gas, this drive has made sifting a thousand times more desirable than it already was.
Along the way, amid the eternal grousing that happens when you pack six alphas of varying temperaments—who can work together for a common goal but would probably kill one another—into a sardine can, we’ve been discussing possibilities and plans.
The princess scrawled a picture at the bottom of the scrap of map. After much debate we all managed to agree Christian is somehow attached to the side of a mountain in the Dreitorspitze range, but we have no idea how high or low. We just have to find the right mountain, scale the face of it, and get him down. Oh, and kill the Hag so she doesn’t rain down death on all of us as we try to escape.
Simple, right?
We agree that our primary goal is to rescue Christian, secondary to kill the Hag. However, any way we look at it, both need to happen. The Hag can fly alarmingly fast for short bursts of distance, although Ryodan claims she can’t sustain it for long according to his sources. Considering how creepy-crawly and numerous his sources are, I believe he knows what he’s talking about. If we have to climb up for Christian, it won’t be quite as dangerous. But if we have to go down for him from above, once we free him we’ll all be on top of a mountain, with no cover, and one very pissed off Hag circling. Unless she’s somewhere else, hunting something else, if we could get so lucky. Fact is, we won’t know anything until we see the scene.
“We need sifters,” I say for the dozenth time.
“Wake the fuck up, Mac,” Ryodan says, “there aren’t any. Few of the Fae can sift, and we’ve killed most of the ones that can.”
“Maybe you should have thought of that before you killed the princes.”
“The princess refused to disclose their location until we did.”
“Dree-lia can sift,” I point out.
“Have you any idea where to find her, lass?” Dageus says. “None of the Seelie are responding to our summons.”
“We could go into Faery and hunt for them,” I say. I scowl when the lumbering Hummer nearly tosses me into Ryodan’s lap, and brace myself better on the console.
“Aye, and potentially lose years of our time trying to locate her,” Drustan growls. “Leaving Christian on the cliff, dying over and over. Bad plan.”
“We don’t need sifters,” Jada says. “I can do this.”
“We can do this,” Dageus says. “ ’Tis the only option. We won’t be returning to Christopher without his son. He’ll be bloody well furious enough that we left without him.”
We’d told no one what we’d learned of Christian’s whereabouts and stole off like thieves in the night to prevent the other Keltar from joining us. The larger our party, the greater the risk. After twenty minutes of heated debate, with Ryodan insisting Jada be included, we’d narrowed our rescue attempt to six participants, picked her and the Keltar up, and left Dublin immediately. I’d argued against the Keltar. Both Barrons and Ryodan had insisted we take backup.
“We’re close enough for now,” Barrons says, as we slow to a stop beneath a rocky outcropping that should keep us hidden from above. When he turns the engine off, Ryodan takes a pair of binoculars from the dash and gets out, quietly closing the door.
I finally have the whole seat to myself!
I sink into it gratefully and stretch my legs as we settle back to wait for the details of his reconnaissance mission to finalize our plan.
Three hours later Ryodan’s back with a second SUV, and bad news. Christian is indeed chained to the side of a mountain, about a half mile from here, a thousand feet above a rocky crevasse. Although Ryodan located a spot accessible by vehicle where we can conceal it near the Highlander’s location, as we feared, there’s no way to get to him from below.
Ryodan estimates he’s roughly two hundred feet from the top of the sheer stone face. There are cables driven into the backside of the mountain, a modified path for hikers. Ascent is possible. Descent will make us targets, except for me, of course.
Unfortunately, when I touch people, they don’t turn invisible like my clothing and food, so I can’t get everyone back down that way. Nor do I have any desire to have these particular five people clutching pieces of me for hours.
“Why did you acquire another vehicle?” Drustan asks.
“Backup plan. If something goes wrong and we need to split up.”
“Wise decision,” Dageus says.
According to Ryodan, the Hag has built herself a nest on a splinter of rock opposite Christian, about a quarter of a mile away from where he’s chained. While Ryodan watched, she swooped in, flayed him from breastbone to groin, then returned to her nest to resume her gruesome knitting.
“Exercise in futility. One would think she’d cease doing it,” Jada says.
“All is not governed by logic,” Ryodan says. “Though you like to pretend it is.”
“Fools and the dead are not governed by logic. Survivors are.”
“There are biologic imperatives, like it or not,” he says. “Eating. Fucking. For humans, which you are, sleeping. For her, knitting.”
“I eat. And sleep. Fucking is only relevant if one intends to reproduce. I don’t.”
“Christian,” I remind. “Stay on point.”
“The point is I don’t need any of you,” Jada says. “Give me the spear. I’ll return in two hours.”
We all ignore her.
Ryodan says, “The bitch actually lances him then sits on him like an insect on a cocoon, taking her time collecting his guts.”
“Bad for him, good for us,” I say. “The problem with the Hag has always been getting past those damn legs she uses as weapons. That’s how we get close enough to kill her.”
“What are you suggesting, lass?” Drustan says.
Jada says swiftly, “I’ll kill the Hag first, then rescue Christian.”
Ryodan says, “The Hag is nested like an eagle on a splinter of stone, impossible to scale.”
“I could,” I say. “I’m invisible.”
“Physically impossible,” he clarifies, “it’s hundreds of feet, straight up. Nobody’s climbing that needle. That’s why she chose it. We’re going to have to kill her somewhere else.”
“I’m the logical choice to kill the Hag,” Jada says. “I have the cuff of Cruce. She can’t harm me.”
“I will make the descent down the face of the cliff, invisible, and give Christian the spear,” I say coolly.
“The Hag hunts by echolocation; she targets her prey by sound,” Jada says. “Visibility is irrelevant.”
“Fallacy,” Ryodan says. “Although she has no eyes, she employs both visual and auditory guides. When she targeted Christian on the abbey’s grounds, he wasn’t making noise.”
“You don’t know for a certainty she can see,” Jada disagrees.
“You don’t know for a certainty she can’t,” he says.
I say, “Once I give him the spear, the next time the Hag attacks, Christian can stab her while she’s resting on him. Then we free him. I’ll wear the cuff to be certain I won’t be harmed if she attacks while I’m climbing down to give him the spear.”
“You’ll wear the cuff the day you can take it from me,” Jada says coolly.
“You’ll use the spear the day you can take it from me,” I return just as coolly.
“It’s a solid plan,” Drustan says to Jada. “More so than yours.”
“Agreed,” Ryodan says.
Jada says, “You fail to consider anatomical limitations. Ryodan said Christian is chained, both hands, arms spread wide. With which free hand do you expect him to stab the Hag?”
I open my mouth then shut it. Well, damn. “How are the chains fastened?” I ask Ryodan.
“From what I could see, driven in with metal rivets.”
I shrug. “I pry one free.”
“You aren’t strong enough,” Jada says.
I bristle. “First of all, I am, but second, I have a few bottles of Unseelie flesh on hand for just such emergencies.” Loath though I am to eat it again, I never leave home without it. All weapons, necessary.
“Walking on the wild side, Ms. Lane?” Barrons murmurs.
“And you think the Hag won’t notice someone freeing one of his hands,” Jada mocks. “Or that he’s suddenly hanging from only one.”
“We go at nightfall. He may be strong enough to hold himself by clutching rock, or I drive a spike in for him. It’s doable. How quickly is Christian healing?” I ask Ryodan. If he’s in bad shape, hanging on could be difficult. “When do you think the Hag will next attack him?”
“Hard to say. I didn’t linger.”
“I’m the one he sacrificed himself for,” Jada says. “I’m the one who will rescue him.”
“Illogical and emotional,” I say acerbically. “Debt owed does not determine best woman for the job. Besides, I’m immune to the thrall of a Fae prince.”
“As am I,” she says. She raises her arm and flashes that darned cuff at me that I really wish I had.
“You know I’m right,” I say. “The plan with the greatest odds of success is the one I just detailed. And I don’t need your bloody cuff. I can do it without it.”
I glance at Barrons, who’s looking in my general direction. His eyes say, You’re comfortable with this?
“Yes,” I say. I love that about him: he’s alpha to the bone but when the stakes get high, he doesn’t go all ape-shit crazy trying to keep me out of the game. When I choose my place to stand, he supports me standing there.
“It’s no’ about who saves Christian and kills the Hag. It’s about saving him. Period,” Drustan says quietly.
I say, “And like it or not, Jada, my invisibility is the edge we need. If I go down, there’s only a cable hanging over the cliff at night. If you go down, there’s a cable and a whole five feet ten inches of human body visible.”
Everyone but Jada murmurs agreement.
“And if the Sinsar Dubh decides to seize a perilous moment to wrest control of you?” Jada says.
“Aye, how is it you have the Book?” Drustan says. “Is it similar to Dageus and the Draghar?”
“It is,” I tell him. “And it can only take control of me if I kill. That’s why I’m handing Christian the spear.”
“Even if it’s an Unseelie you kill?” Dageus says.
“You’ve killed and lost control before,” Jada says. “I saw her. The Gray Woman. And the Garda you killed. I saw your shrine.”
“Which is why I’m handing Christian the spear,” I repeat irritably.
“I won’t be spotted scaling the cliff,” she says. “I’m wearing black and will darken my face.”
“Dude”—I use the word deliberately—“I am wearing an invisibility cloak.”
“Ryodan and I will make the climb with Ms. Lane at dusk,” Barrons says. “Jada, you will remain here with the Keltar.”
“The bloody hell we will,” Dageus explodes.
“Bullshit,” Drustan agrees.
“No,” Jada says flatly.