21
What must a prince do to get a Valentine’s Day kiss, MacKayla?”
The words floated out of the darkness, Eros skittering across my skin, pricking me with a hundred tiny little Cupid bows. Even with Pri-ya-induced immunity, I still thrill to the musical, sensual sound of V’lane’s voice. I no longer begin stripping when he appears, but deep down inside me there’s a summer girl who never stops wanting to, especially when he’s being playful, seductive.
How many Valentine’s Days in my life had ended with a kiss?
I could count them on two fingers.
And those had been decent kisses, not great ones. Certainly nothing to rock a woman’s world.
I paused with my hand on the doorknob of Barrons Books and Baubles. Barrons had changed the locks on the garage and the back door, so I’d had to park the Viper in the alley and walk around to the front. It had been a difficult night. I was ready for it to end. I wanted covers over my head and deep, dreamless sleep.
Mere hours ago I’d been consoling myself that, even though Barrons was furious with me, at least I would be going to sleep tonight with the comforting knowledge that he was alive.
Right. Happy Valentine’s Day to me.
“I believe human males present flowers.”
I was abruptly wreathed in the delicate scent of roses. A bouquet appeared, tucked into my arm. Petals tickled my nose. The ground at my feet was strewn with them. Dewy, lush, they gave off an otherworldly, spicy scent.
I leaned my forehead against the diamond-paned cherry door. I could see my demolished shop through it. “Did you come here to accuse me of being a traitor, too?” It would be just like a Fae to shower me with gifts while threatening me. I was through justifying myself. Seeing Barrons’ lifeless eyes again had nearly put me back on the cliff’s edge. I had no idea why I hated seeing him dead so much, when I knew he wasn’t really. Lor had assured me he would be back, although he couldn’t say when. Why couldn’t he say when? Did Barrons’ body have to heal, and certain injuries took longer than others?
I couldn’t get the image out of my mind. Now I had two visions of Barrons to torture myself with: gutted and shot. On top of that, I was terrified for my parents. Terrified by how easily the Book had infiltrated those closest to me. First the abbey, then Darroc, Barrons, and now a threat to my parents. I could no longer dispute Ryodan’s conviction that the Book was finding me. Playing with me. But why not just kill me and get it over with? Did it really think I would—as Ryodan said—“flip”? Nothing about the Sinsar Dubh made sense. Sometimes it gave me a splitting, crushing headache and I could sense it coming a mile away. Other times, like tonight, I didn’t have a clue it was in the same room with me.
It killed everyone else it came into contact with. But not me. It hurt me, but it always left me alive. Why?
I’d demanded Lor remove Mom and Dad from Dublin. He’d refused to even consider it. Said nobody would lift a finger unless Barrons told them to. So much for their demands for my head—apparently Barrons had the final say about everything.
I could always persuade V’lane to sift in, get them, and whisk them somewhere safe, except … well, maybe it was the sidhe-seer in my blood, but I just couldn’t trust my parents to a Fae.
“I am not a fool, MacKayla. You were playing Darroc. My only question is why.”
A weight slid from my shoulders. It was about time somebody believed in me. Figured it would be V’lane. “Thank you,” I said simply.
I turned around and my eyes widened appreciatively. V’lane is always a vision. He’d muted himself, donned his “human” form, but it did little to diminish his otherworldly allure. In black pants, boots, and a black cashmere sweater, with his long hair spilling down his back and his velvety skin dusted with gold, he looked like a fallen archangel.
Tonight, he was even more majestic than ever. I wondered if leading a Seelie army had given him purpose he’d lacked, if he was no longer an immortal riddled with ennui and petty desires but was becoming a true leader of his people. He would have his hands full trying to lead the Seelie court. Perhaps if Jayne and the Guardians shot and caged enough of them, they’d pull their heads out. A little hardship and suffering would do the Seelie a world of good.
“You never doubted me? Even when I was standing there in the street with the Unseelie army?”
“I know the woman you are, MacKayla. Were you Fae, you would belong to my court.” He studied me with ancient, iridescent eyes. “My army is not as discerning as I. They believe you are his ally. We will persuade them otherwise.” A smile touched the corners of his lips. “If nothing else, your claim that Barrons was dead gave you away. I saw him tonight with you at Chester’s.” He paused. “I am uncertain how you managed to deceive the Unseelie Princes. They were convinced he was dead.”
He delivered the statement so blandly that I almost missed the question, and the threat. Lacing his silken words was steel. Beneath his playfulness, V’lane was in a dangerous mood. But why? I knew he’d been at Chester’s. Had something happened after Lor had whisked me out and dumped me at the Viper? Did he know the Sinsar Dubh had also been there?
“Just a little trick I learned,” I evaded.
“Barrons was never dead? Was he … incapacitated for a time?”
V’lane and Barrons hate each other, something to do with Barrons killing V’lane’s princess a long time ago. Instinct deeper than I could fathom made me lie. “You’re kidding, right? Barrons is unkillable.”
“I would know how you deceived the Unseelie Princes, MacKayla.” There was the steel again, lacing the silk. It was not a question. It was a command.
He moved into the alcove with me, and the intoxicating fragrance of the Fae court, of jasmine and sandalwood, perfumed the delicate spice of the purple petals crushing beneath his boots. Danger stepped in with him.
I cocked my head, studying him. I suddenly knew where his anger was coming from. He was on a dangerous edge not because he thought I had managed to deceive the dark princes but because he was worried they’d known all along that Barrons wasn’t dead and had somehow managed to deceive him.
V’lane sat on the queen’s High Council. He’d been handpicked by the leader of their race to see through court intrigue to the truth of matters. And he’d failed. His inability to discern truth from lie—from an Unseelie, no less—had shaken him. I understood that. It’s debilitating to realize you can’t trust your own judgment.
However, in this case he hadn’t been wrong. Barrons really had been dead, and the Unseelie Princes hadn’t deceived V’lane. But I wasn’t about to tell him that. Not only had Barrons insisted I lie to V’lane, it seemed I was programmed with an unshakable imperative to keep Barrons’ secret.
Knowing him, he’d probably tattooed it on me somewhere.
Still, I could give V’lane some of the truth. “Remember when you said that I had only begun to discover what I was?”
His gaze sharpened and he nodded. He touched my hair. “I am pleased you restored it, MacKayla. It is lovely.”
Yeah, well, Barrons hadn’t seemed to think so. “You were right. I’ve recently become aware of a place inside me where I know things that I can’t explain knowing. I find things I don’t understand.”
He inclined his head, waiting.
“I found runes that the princes didn’t like. I used them with a combination of others to create an illusion that Barrons was dead,” I lied.
He processed my words: The Unseelie hadn’t duped him. I’d duped the Unseelie. Faint lines of tension eased in his face.
“You convinced Darroc and the princes that Barrons was dead so Darroc would believe you genuinely sought an alliance with him?”
“Exactly.”
“Why?”
I hesitated.
“MacKayla, can we not finally trust each other?” he said softly. “What must I do to convince you? Command me, I am yours.”
I was so tired of lying and being lied to, of not trusting and not being trusted. “He knew a shortcut to controlling the Sinsar Dubh. It’s why the Book killed him.”
“It is true, then, what we heard,” he murmured. “It was not a Hunter after all.”
I nodded.
“And what is this shortcut?”
“I wasn’t able to get it out of him before he died.”
He studied me. “Deceiving the princes so thoroughly would have required immense power.” He began to say something, then seemed to change his mind and stopped. After a moment he said carefully, “These runes you used, what color were they?”
“Crimson.”
He went still, regarding me as if he wasn’t entirely sure what he was looking at. It made me extremely uncomfortable. Then he said, “Did they beat like small human hearts?”
“Yes.”
“Impossible!”
“Would you like me to summon them now?”
“You could, with such ease?”
I nodded.
“That will not be necessary. I accept your word, MacKayla.”
“What are they? Darroc wouldn’t tell me.”
“I imagine he was even more interested in you after he saw them. Tremendous power, MacKayla. Parasites—they graft onto anything they touch, grow, and spread like a human disease.”
Great. I remembered how they’d seemed larger in the bedroom at Darroc’s penthouse. Had I inadvertently loosed another Unseelie evil on the world?
“Used with the Song of Making, they can form an impenetrable cage,” he said. “I have never seen them myself, but our histories tell us they were employed on occasion by the first Seelie Queen for punishment and were one of the ingredients used in the walls of the Unseelie prison.”
I jerked. “How could I possibly know anything about runes used to build the Unseelie prison walls?”
“That is precisely what I would like to know.”
I sighed and rubbed my eyes. More questions. They were beginning to gnaw at my sanity.
“You are weary,” he said softly. “On this night for lovers, where would you sleep, MacKayla? In a silken hammock tied between palm trees, swaying over tropical surf, with a devoted Fae lover to attend your every desire? Would you share a Fae prince’s bower? Or would you climb the stairs in a ruined bookstore to sleep alone in the building of a man who has never trusted you and never will?”
Ouch.