“As the humans say, ‘Not so fast, Investigator…’” chimed a voice from above our heads.
Phaedra.
A harpy set the Alfar down on the roof of the studio. She peered down at us, her face calm as Kaya, or Kaori, fluttered away. She was making a point: Alfar didn't need any backup.
“We have your people, Phaedra. And we know what they've done,” Ryu shouted. He was losing control of his temper, fast.
“You have nothing,” the little woman replied, “except for dead humans and theories. You have also forgotten that I, too, have your people.” From behind us, both harpies prodded our friends out into the little clearing around the studio. Caleb and Daoud were battered and bruised, but they were alive.
“You are interfering with an official Court investigation, Phaedra, and your minions have committed crimes that will end in their execution,” Anyan growled, not letting up his hold on the spriggan.
“Interfering? How? My people have committed no crime,” Phaedra purred. “You attacked them for no reason. They were merely investigating the murder of these two unfortunate women, just like you…”
I looked to where Graeme and Fugwat lay, covered in blood that wasn't their own. Was she serious? They had to have killed those women. They had to—
“You lie, Alfar,” Ryu roared, and the shields around him ignited in an eerie blue light. My boyfriend did have some mad skills at his disposal.
“Enough,” Phaedra hissed as we heard a gasp behind us. The harpies had raised a wickedly sharp, hooked claw to the throats of both Caleb and Daoud. The harpy holding Daoud, either Kaori or Kaya, had already pierced deep into the djinn's neck.
“We are at an impasse. We have your men; you have ours. You believe one story… I think that the Court will believe another. So I suggest we make an exchange… your men's lives in exchange for a race. Whoever makes it to the Compound first gets to tell their version of events. And then we can let our king and our queen decide.” Phaedra's smile was cold, calculated, and confident. She knew who Jarl would side with and that Orin and Morrigan would follow his lead, at least publicly.
“Never,” Ryu snarled, but his protestations were cut short by a strangled gasp from Daoud as the harpy's claw slashed across the djinn's throat. I'd seen Daoud's uncle, Wally, seamlessly replace his own amputated arm, and Daoud was doing something similar with his own torn flesh. But every time he healed himself, the harpy cut deep again. Blood was everywhere, and Daoud's face grew unhealthily pale as the harpy who held him slashed at his throat again and again—
“You have a choice, Investigator. Eventually your man will bleed out, and not even a djinn can recover from a true death. Do we have a deal?”
Ryu's shoulders were so tense with anger he was already quivering. He glanced at Anyan, who, after a brief moment, nodded.
“Fine,” Ryu barked, his voice brittle with resentment. “Let my men go. And we will see you back at Court—”
Before he could finish his sentence, Kaya (or Kaori) slashed once more across Daoud's throat. To our horror, her sister Kaori, or Kaya, did the same to Caleb. The satyr's hands found his throat, holding shut the wound and beginning to heal himself, but the djinn dropped to the ground like a stone.
Anyan turned with a shout to Caleb, letting up on the spriggan as he did so. Fugwat, his brute face awash in anger, made as if to follow him. I threw up another of my springy, physical shields at the barghest's back, feeling my power eaten up by the unfamiliar exercise. But my shield held, and the spriggan bounced back, to be grabbed by the incubus and dragged toward the harpies. Phaedra's gang hightailed it out of there, leaving us to attend to our wounded.
Anyan was already healing Caleb, while Ryu worked on Daoud. We all cooled our heels, waiting. If Camille, Julian, or I ran after the Alfar, we were toast. So we watched as Anyan finished with Caleb, and then both men immediately turned their attention to Daoud. For our part, we funneled power to the satyr so that his exhausted body could still pump healing energy into the ragged wounds in his friend's neck.
After what felt like hours, but could have been only about twenty minutes, Caleb looked up.
“He'll live. But he needs a blood transfusion as soon as possible.”
The satyr stood, swaying a bit before Julian ran up to charge the big man with elemental force until Caleb could draw his own power from the earth.
Anyan gathered Daoud up in his arms, cradling the other man to him as Ryu barked orders.
“Julian, hot-wire Edie's car and get Daoud and Caleb to the nearest healer in the area. Camille, you and Anyan take the SUV. Jane, with me. Phaedra can't have gotten too far…”
I'd never taken part in a chase, but I panted alongside the others as we raced back to our cars, and I belted myself in as quickly as I could when Ryu practically threw me in his car.
Then we were off, peeling away down the dirt road, away from where Edie and Felicia lay, cooling in their own blood. I closed my eyes at that thought, knowing that I would have to deal with the deaths of those two women sometime, but all that grief and remorse would have to come later.
I took a deep breath as Ryu shouted at Anyan over his phone; they were trying to figure out the best way to the Compound from where we were. Anyan thought they should try to catch up with Phaedra; Ryu thought we should try to beat them back to the Compound. And even though one was a vampire and one was a shape-shifter, they were both male. So both had to be right and neither could stop and ask for directions.
It's funny, in the movies, everyone in a chase scene always seems to know where they're going. They never run into dead ends, or trains, or—
I was just starting to enjoy my musings when, as if on cue, came the attack.
One minute Ryu was arguing and I was pondering the irrealities of action blockbusters; the next everything was awash in fire and the car was spinning like a top. Ryu was swearing, trying to get the BMW back under control when another blast of heat and energy hit us. Everything went upside down, confusingly, until I realized we were upside down. The car flipped once, twice, and then landed on Ryu's side on the side of the road.
Everything was bleary, not least because of the blood that was dripping from a cut on my forehead down into my eyes. I shook my head, trying to clear it, while I called out Ryu's name.
He lay unmoving against the smashed glass of the side window. His body was twisted up in his seat belt, his eyes closed. I tried to reach for him, but my own arms were trapped in a tangle that I realized was my deflated air bag.
I finally unwound myself and touched his shoulder, just as his eyes fluttered open. Relief washed through my system but it was short-lived. My lover's eyes had barely focused on me when they widened. He called my name as I heard a loud wrenching sound behind me. Suddenly, there was a hand on my shoulder and a sharp pain in my neck. My mouth went slack as my limbs went numb. I felt myself pulled upward into the waiting arms of our attacker.
Conleth's insane blue gaze met mine as I sank into his gaze. I struggled, my vision starting to blur, until I felt my muscles fall slack against him. He caressed my cheek with one hand while the other held me close. As everything went dark, I heard him murmuring my name over and over, like a prayer, while I was swallowed by darkness.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The fog clouding my brain dispersed slowly, leaving a dull ache in its place. I tried to raise my head but it wasn't responding. I tried again, with more force, and my head lolled backward on my neck like an egg on a string.
I knew two things. The first was that I was completely fucking terrified. I was terrified that Con had killed Ryu, terrified that I was in Con's clutches, and even more terrified that I knew exactly what Con wanted from me. It involved making super-babies, and it did not involve clothes. Which, except for my jacket, I was pretty sure I was still wearing, thank the gods, since he could have done anything to me while I was unconscious.
Not that you would know if he raped you, since you still can't feel your legs, my brain reminded me unhelpfully. I swore at my brain for making me, on top of everything else, suddenly terrified of not feeling my legs.
Besides my multiplicity of terrors, however, I knew one good thing. I was near water. And not just water, but the ocean… my ocean. I could feel the Atlantic beckoning. She was seething, enraged at my predicament, demanding I return to her. Either that or there was a storm front passing.
I kept my eyes shut, feigning unconsciousness, and did my best to hear something, anything, that would tell me where Con was or where I was. Meanwhile, my extremities were starting to get a pins-and-needles feeling that really hurt, but also informed me that I seemed to be sitting, and that my hands—but not my feet—were definitely bound.
One for the barghest, I thought.
I couldn't hear anything, so I cracked my eyelids. No one was standing above me, and my neck was finally in my own control so I raised my head slowly.
“There you are, Jane,” Conleth cooed lovingly from somewhere to my left.
Fuck, I thought, shuddering at the sound of his voice.
The ifrit halfling was sitting cross-legged on the floor. His fire was totally banked, and he looked like any tall, skinny, middle-class white guy on the street.