Charmed Vengeance (29 page)

“Leave. Me. Alone.” From her spot on the floor, Noli sent out another blast, this one aimed directly at King Brogan.

He sidestepped, strode over, and grabbed her by the throat. “You are very much out of your element, little sprite, and lacking a protector. You best watch your step. Also, are you sure you’re well? Your color looks off.”

Her throat grew warm and tingly and for the briefest second his hand shimmered as she struggled for breath. Wait, she had her knife. Kicking up her foot, she fumbled for it.

“Now, give me that piece,” he demanded.

Don’t give in
, that other voice told her as her hand wrapped around the knife handle.

“No.” The word barely escaped her lips as he choked the air out of her. Grasping the knife, she jabbed it in his hand, praying it would force him to release her.

His face contorted in pain. “Why you little—”

“Leave my sister alone,” Jeff roared. Boom. Boom. Boom. Jeff fired his pistol several times into King Brogan leg.

Again, she jabbed him. Take that. His grip lessened and Noli dropped to the floor with a jarring thud, knife falling to the ground. The knife went back into her boot, then her hand found the piece in her pocket. She must keep it safe.

Several other pistol clicks echoed through the room. Brogan didn’t look up, a hand over his bleeding leg.

“No one messes with little sister.” Thad aimed his pistol at Brogan, uncovered eye narrowing. Asa and two women wearing trousers also held pistols.

“Brogan, you need to get off my ship, you’re bleeding everywhere.” Vix’s voice remained calm, pistol still focused on the earth court king.

“I only want what is mine.” The hand not staunching his wounds extended as if he expected Noli to hand the artifact over.

“You didn’t pay for it, it’s not yours,” Vix retorted. “Asa, Thad, escort these men off my ship.”

“I think we should go,” the guard who’d spied on her and V said, guiding Brogan toward the exit. “I’ll send men after Kevighn Silver for the other pieces.”

“You’ll pay for this,” Brogan yelled as he limped off the ship leaving a trail of blood, guns still focused on him. “Stiofán, too. Oh yes, you will all pay.”

A heavy silence filled the air. Noli grasped for breath, crouched on the floor, feeling lightheaded. The piece cut into her hand. She’d done it—she’d even used her knife to help protect herself. At least Brogan hadn’t hurt Jeff.

She’d never forgive herself if he had.

The voice stayed silent. That was for probably better, her head was crowded enough without adding a goddess. “Are you all right, Captain? Who was that?” Thad tucked his pistol away and took a drink from his flask.

“Business gone bad. Thank you for that.” Vix put her pistol away as well.

“Noli, Noli, are you well?” Jeff crouched next to her.

“I can’t catch my breath.” Clammy heat spread across her skin as she rasped for breath.

Jeff pulled her into a sitting position so she could lean against him. “Asa, could you please get Noli some water. It’s all right. They’re gone.”

“Who’s Stiofán?” Vix joined them, concern in her eyes.

“V. Steven.” She took the cup of water from Asa but didn’t feel like drinking. It was difficult to breathe and her neck ached where Brogan had grabbed her.

“We’ll talk about this later, the three of us, while we’re en route to Boston,” Jeff soothed. “Vix and I are engaged, we’re going to Boston for Thanksgiving to tell my family,” he added to the others.

Various congratulations came from those in the room. Noli had no idea who the women were. She closed her eyes and leaned on Jeff.

“If we’re going to Boston, we best be leaving,” Asa finally boomed.

“Noli, you don’t look good.” Jeff smoothed her hair. “Vix, she’s warm.”

“Go put her downstairs, have Winky ready the engines. Hittie, Hattie, thank you so much, until next time?” Vix called.

Jeff scooped Noli up in arms. She should protest. But the words just didn’t come out.

“Will little sister be all right?” Thad asked.

“She’ll be fine.” Jeff carried her down to her little room.

Noli clutched the piece. “I didn’t give it to him.”

“I still don’t understand why it’s so important.”

“It is,” she insisted.

Jeff put her in her hammock and covered her with the blanket. “We need to talk, you, Vix, and I. I’m not sure what precisely I saw and heard back there.”

Noli closed her eyes. “Brogan is V’s uncle.”

“V’s one of them, too? Don’t they have their own realm?” Exasperation colored his voice as he tucked her in.

“V and his family are exiles, forced to live in our realm because of Brogan and Queen Tiana.” She ached all over and just felt … wrong. “V broke it off with me because his mother is the high queen and she ordered him to. May I have my roses?”

“Um, sure.” Jeff retrieved her pot of roses from the worktable. Noli wrapped her arms around the tiny pot as if it was a doll. Much better.

“I don’t feel good,” she murmured, trying to get comfortable in her hammock.

I don’t feel good either,
the sprite whimpered.

“You sleep, we’ll figure this all out later.” Jeff’s fingers traced her cheek. “We’ll figure this all out later. I promise.”

Kevighn entered through the swinging wooden doors into The Thirsty Pooka, deep within the blackwoods of the Otherworld. Once, it had been his favorite watering hole. Despite the shady characters frequenting it, the tavern was actually quite safe. Safe enough to bring Creideamh. So he’d thought.

People stopped drinking and throwing knives to stare at him.

“What are you doing here, huntsman?” a large ogre sneered, cleaning his teeth with his dagger as he sat at a table filled with other ugly, smelly, large ogres.

“Yeah, you’re kind isn’t welcome here,” a goblin added. They were smaller than ogres, but just as strong and twice as ugly.

Kevighn’s heart sank as others in the bar echoed the sentiments. They’d begin throwing things at him any moment.

“Stop.” A cloaked figure at the wooden bar stood, barely taller than Kevighn, but imposing nevertheless. Immediately, the bar fell silent.

Ciarán had spoken.

“Kevighn, did everything go as expected?” The dark king’s hood fell back. He gestured to the bar. “Sit.”

Everyone returned to their business. Kevighn took a seat next to him. Ciarán signaled the bartender, a rather comely lady leprechaun, for two drinks.

“The pieces are mine now?” Ciarán asked.

“Yes.” He felt no guilt at giving them to the dark king. However, he had a feeling Noli still had a piece. It would be safe with her and when they needed it, he could get it.

“It’s quite the gift.” Ciarán accepted the clay mug from the bartender, who stood on a box to see them. She handed one to Kevighn.

“Brogan is collecting them?” Kevighn took a sip of decent ale, dark and cool. Ciarán made it himself.

“Indeed. He’s contracted others to collect the pieces as well from museums, private collectors, and even archeological digs all over the world. He knows where many of the pieces are—but not all.” His eyes twinkled. “Though I don’t appreciate him using my name.”

“What do you plan to do with them, if I might ask?” Whatever it was, it would be less self-serving than Brogan.

Ciarán shrugged. “What do you expect? I’m going to rebuild it, just as he is trying to. Only I shall be successful. A rebellion is brewing. Tiana isn’t good for the Otherworld, and no one can stop her except for me.”

Well, conceivably the Bright Lady or the magic herself could stop the queen, but there was only one time in memory where that happened. That was when the Bright Lady broke apart the staff, scattering its pieces to the ends of the mortal realm. Without the staff, the land had to rely on the blood of mortal girls for nourishment.

Most of that era had been forgotten—especially by the monarchs. Even the stories told to children to explain the sacrifice forgot that small detail.

“Rebellion?” Kevighn breathed. Even thinking the word could be treason. Being dark court didn’t make them immune to spies or the high queen’s wrath, “Yes, Queen Tiana cares naught for the Otherworld and her subjects.” Ciarán shook his head. “Pity.”

“We still need a queen.” There had always been a high queen, one who possessed a rather peculiar set of gifts— the ability to use all four elements.

Ciarán’s hands wrapped around his mug. “I think most have forgotten Tiana’s daughter. She lives in the mortal realm with her father.”

“Did she inherit her mother’s abilities?” Kevighn did a double take. “Are you planning on killing the girl?” Ciarán’s face contorted into a look of disgust. “You don’t honestly think I’d do that? No, we’ll raise the girl here, with us, continue collecting the pieces, and when we’re ready, we’ll have our revolution. Tiana will be overthrown, and this girl will be the new high queen.”

There were many, many holes in Ciarán’s plan, but it wasn’t Kevighn’s place to question him. “How will you get the girl in the first place?”

“That is where you, my dear friend, come in.” Ciarán clapped him on the arm. “I need you to do what you do best—get me the girl.”

“You want me to go to Los Angeles and steal the girl away from the former king of the earth court?” Kevighn couldn’t quite believe his ears.

“You do know who her chief tutor and companion is, right?” Ciarán’s smile grew sly as he swirled the drink is his glass. “I don’t think anyone will mourn if you killed Quinn the Fair in the course of your task.”

Kevighn drew in a sharp breath. “You’re offering me the chance to kill him?”

Ciarán nodded. “If it were my sister, I would have killed the bastard straight out.”

“You could—I couldn’t.” It still would have caused a war.

He grinned over the rim of his glass. “It won’t cause a war now.”

For reasons unknown Quinn had joined his former king in exile.

“I’ll do it.” Maybe Stiofán would be there and give him a reason to kill him as well.

“Good.” Ciarán raised his glass in a toast. “To brotherhood.”

Kevighn raised his. “To brotherhood.”

They drank. Putting down his glass, Ciarán gestured to the bar. “Welcome home. It’s about damn time. Your talents are wasted on the likes of her anyway.”

Kevighn looked around at the various dark court folk—brownies, goblins, ogres, the banished, and the generally unscrupulous, the real “monsters” behind the stories used to scare mortal children. Perhaps the high court looked down on dark court folk, but they possessed a code you’d never find in anyplace else, especially the high court. They welcomed him back as if he’d never left.

He clapped his old friend on the arm. “It’s good to be home.”

Ciarán was right; it was about damn time.

Noli’s mouth felt stuffed with cotton. She hurt too much to even consider moving. The door opened, but Noli kept her eyes closed.

“I brought you coffee, how’s the patient,” Vix whispered, the door closing behind her.

“Her fever’s not breaking,” Jeff murmured. “I’m worried.”

“We’ll be in Chicago soon to refuel. I think we should get Noli a doctor,” Vix replied.

“No, I think our best chance is to refuel, press on to Boston, and bring her to grandfather’s.”

Right, she was unwell. Her skin blazed and she wanted to drink a barrel of water—which, unfortunately, required sitting up.

“Jeff … do you actually think your family will welcome us?” Vix blurted. “It’s so sweet and old fashioned that you want me to meet them, but what if they turn us away? At least in Chicago we can find a doctor. She’s so pale and still.”

“Grandfather Montgomery is a lot of things—but he won’t turn us away on Thanksgiving, especially when I’m trying to do what’s right,” Jeff returned. “Also, if Noli’s unwell, it’s a non-issue. Mother will never allow Grandfather turn us away.”

For once Noli wanted her mother. Mama always knew how to make tea just right and when coddled eggs would be better than toast. Real sheets, cool ones which smelled nice, would feel so much better on her too-warm skin than hammock strings.

“Are you certain? It just feels so … risky.”

“We need to take her to Boston,” Jeff insisted.

Noli’s struggled to sit up. “I want to see Mama.” The words felt as thick as badly knitted socks, but if she didn’t speak up, they may stop in Chicago instead.

“Easy.” Jeff helped her sit, hammock rocking with her movement. “How do you feel?”

“Warm.” She shrugged off her blanket. “And thirsty.”

Jeff handed her a cup of lukewarm weak tea, which she drained in two gulps and returned to him. He placed it on the worktable, sat on her workbench, and picked up his own mug. Dark rings circled his eyes and stubble dotted his chin. Vix didn’t look any better as she leaned against the closed door. The three of them took up all the space, crowding the miniscule space.

Taking a handkerchief, Jeff dipped it in some water and handed it to her. Noli wiped her face with it. Her entire body throbbed and the tea did little to slake her thirst.

“Where are my roses?” She looked around.

Jeff gestured to her worktable. The wilted roses drooped, tiny leaves and petals raining onto the floor. “Would you like your pot of mint?”

“Please?” She just wanted to be near something green and growing.

“There you go.” He tucked the pot of mint in her arms and put the fallen blanket back on her lap. “Would you like something to eat?”

“I don’t feel like eating.” Really she just wanted to drink some water and go back to sleep. “I’d like some more tea or water, please.”

“I’ll get some.” Vix left.

“I want to see Mama.” She just didn’t want to be left behind in Boston. “I feel horrid.” Even her hair hurt. She noticed she still wore her blue dress and corset, though someone had removed her boots.

Jeff squeezed her shoulder. “We’re going to Boston. Grandfather will summon a doctor, and Mother will have the kitchen make you coddled eggs and tea.”

“And Mama and Grandmother will have your and Vix’s wedding all planned before we even finish Thanksgiving dinner,” Noli laughed. “Better you than me.”

Throwing back his head, he laughed. “True. You’ll help Vix out, won’t you?”