Chapter Two #2
Sure enough, eight feet of outraged troll tromped in next, his muscular bulk barely contained by his police uniform. His tusks were polished white rather than the usual yellow, and his orange gaze held fear and anger -- but for me, not for himself. “Has this asshole hurt you, Chief?”
I had to work not to flinch at his deep rumble, knowing Rashi would be hurt if he saw my involuntary reaction. I’d never told him about Olwydd, and I wasn’t about to do it now.
Jill and Ken Riley followed, both glowering suspiciously at Dearg, each with a hand on their TASER. Being immune to magic, the husband-and-wife werewolf team might be able to give the prince a serious fight, even with his weaponry and power.
“What the hell are you doing, fairy?” Ken growled, glaring at Dearg, who was looking from me to Rashi with a frown.
The prince obviously knew something about the troll was setting me off, but he couldn’t tell what.
“I asked you a question.” That was the kind of menacing cop snarl I’d never heard from one of my Summerwood officers. I didn’t run that kind of department.
“Ken, dammit, watch your tone!” I snapped.
Dearg glanced at the werewolf. “I showed her a vision Cachamwri sent me. It was… traumatic.”
“That’s one way of putting it. You’re paler than a swan’s wing,” Lapis said, flashing into Demisidhe form to fly a quick orbit around me. Probably scanning for wounds, magical and otherwise.
“Look, I’m fine,” I protested, and managed to rise to my feet without showing just how much effort it took. “And I asked him to show me the vision, so throttle back on the aggression. He’s here to protect me.”
“From what?” Rashi’s voice dropped an octave from his usual rumbling register, thick green brows lowering over the homicidal glare he shot Dearg.
Most people would have flinched at that much hostile troll. Dearg’s gaze was cool, his big body loose and ready to fight. “Cachamwri believes someone is going to attempt to kill Chief Anann.”
“Cachamwri?” Jill stared at him. The werewolf was a short, muscular woman with strawberry blonde hair and intricate tattoos swirling the arms her short-sleeved uniform bared.
“The Dragon God? Why would he care about a Mortal Earth police chief?” Her dismissive tone suggested she thought Dearg was lying.
“That isn’t your concern.” The prince’s eyes narrowed as he looked each of my people over, every bit as suspicious of them as they were of him. “Cachamwri sent me to protect Iona, and that’s what I’m going to do.”
Jill’s brown eyes took on a threatening golden glow -- she was getting a little too close to shifting. “If somebody threatens our chief, rest assured we’ll protect her.”
“Dearg isn’t the threat,” I snapped. Despite my attempt to draw on my power, my stomach was still roiling from the flashback, and my head pounded.
I was not in the mood for a pissing match between my cops and the Prince of the Fuckin’ Fairies.
“I appreciate your collective willingness to save me, but I’m a demigoddess. I can take care of myself.”
Except according to those visions, I hadn’t taken care of myself.
Wouldn’t. Shit. I needed to get rid of my people until I could figure out what in Maeve’s name to do.
“The sword the prince is wearing is Dragon’s Breath.
I can feel Cachamwri’s power radiating from it.
Prince Dearg is going to help me discover who’s hunting me, and then we’re going to…
” Kill them. “…Arrest them if at all possible.” But it probably won’t be.
They all stared at me, obviously finding that statement about as believable as I did.
“Besides,” I added, “may I remind you we have a film crew in Summerwood right now? Sidney Hurst is paying twenty million to shoot here and use our MFX.” Magical Effects looked far more real than mortal special effects because it was real.
It was also a hell of a lot cheaper to use a centaur actor than render one with thousands of hours of computer animation.
I swept my best don’t-fuck-with-me stare over my officers.
“Your job is to provide security for that shoot and for Summerwood as a whole. Dearg and I will take care of…” Whoever’s going to try to kill me.
“Whoever else shows up. Go do the job. None of us want to piss off the mayor. You know how she is.”
They just stood there, looking variously uncertain, worried, or pissed.
I reached for the power I’d inherited from Maeve. “Go!”
The punch of magic sent them heading for the door. I didn’t use my power if I could help it, but I needed some space. If they thought I was in danger, they’d be on me like horseflies on a centaur’s ass.
Lapis hesitated as the rest of Alpha shift streamed out. “If you need us, just call. We’ll be there.”
“Of course. Now git.”
She got.
I watched them leave, fighting an irrational impulse to call them back.
* * *
Dearg
When Iona’s officers cleared out, I relaxed fractionally.
My werewolf instincts were far too close to the surface.
After fifteen years, I was in decent control of my wolf, but if someone pushed me far enough, I could still lose it.
The visions of Iona’s suffering had tested my self-control to its limits.
I studied her -- and guilt gave me a swift kick.
When I’d walked through the door, she’d looked strong, confident, in control.
The first few vision deaths hadn’t seemed to bother her, not even the sickening one with the griffin.
But the troll section had made her pale, eyes going wide with terror.
But why? Yeah, the bastard had hit her with a boulder, but that didn’t compare with getting eaten by the griffin.
It wasn’t just the vision that sent her into a tailspin.
It triggered something, some memory. Something.
Considering what I’d heard about her mother’s court, my money was on Siobhan the Mad.
Nothing could fuck you up like childhood trauma.
I grimaced, remembering Erim, the bodyguard who’d treated me like a son -- until a Fomorian king had turned him into a puppet and used him to beat and kidnap me when I was eleven. I hadn’t trusted a bodyguard since.
What the hell had happened in Siobhan’s court?
And why did the thought of Iona’s suffering make me want to kill?
True, I’d care about any wounded innocent -- I’d fought to protect kids from abusers in the past -- but my rage felt more intimate than that.
As if I’d known her a lot longer than twenty minutes.
Then she’d looked at me, her green eyes wide and vulnerable -- until her scent changed, taking on the tang of desire, twenty minutes or no twenty minutes.
Maybe those visions of making love to her had more truth than I’d thought. The thought was intriguing.
Iona watched me intently, no sign of shock. Fully present. I felt the impact of that gaze like a slap. My heart began to pound.
She looked away. I started to reach for her, until common sense gave me a swift kick. This isn’t a good idea. The mission is to keep her alive, and I don’t need to lose focus.
I turned to give us both some privacy and gazed around Iona’s office.
Her diploma in criminal justice from University of Illinois Chicago hung centered on the wall over her desk next to a certificate from the CPD’s Training and Support Academy.
Graduated at the top of her class, too. Other framed items included clippings from the Chicago Tribune about homicides she’d solved, and a Bulls jersey signed by some player whose name I didn’t recognize.
There were other memorabilia: sharpshooting and martial arts trophies and a basketball autographed by the 2036 Bulls team.
Various magical knickknacks glowed softly from shelves packed with books of South Carolina law and texts on investigative techniques, criminal psychology, and forensics.
“We’re going to need to set a trap for him,” Iona said suddenly.
My head snapped around. “Oh, no, we are not. Cachamwri ordered me to serve as your bodyguard. Bodyguards don’t use their protectees as bait.”
She gave me a cool green-eyed stare. “I don’t answer to Cachamwri.”
“But I do. I’ll not dangle you out there and let something eat you. Besides, Cachamwri told me if you get yourself killed, we’re all screwed. Your death is the pivot point that could plunge us all into chaos.”
She blinked. “You’re kidding.”
“Ask him.”
Iona stood to pace, striding from wall to wall and back for several minutes before she spoke. “I don’t believe in letting an enemy take the initiative. It makes a lot more sense to lay a trap for the bastard than have him pounce when we’re not expecting it.”
I opened my mouth -- and closed it again. Dad, too, believed in confronting his enemies head-on at the time and place of his choosing. Didn’t mean I had to like it. “What exactly do you have in mind?” If I wasn’t careful, I strongly suspected she’d go behind my back and end up as something’s lunch.
“Actually, I thought I’d show you around. I recognized most of the places from your vision. They’re all located in Summerwood.”
“The problem with that is that we’ve changed the future where those visions took place.
In every event I Saw, you were alone, which is why Cachamwri sent me.
I’m the wildcard element designed to keep your enemy from getting to you.
But that means we can’t be sure your assassin -- or assassins -- will attack you the same way they did in the vision. ”
“With all due respect, Your Highness” -- that last word sounded a little dry --”you’re a Sidhe prince, despite your other talents. You obviously have a formidable reputation, but I’m a demigoddess.”
“Which did you no good in those visions.”