The Matchmaker's Mark (10 page)

"You must leave."

"No." They answered together. Again.

"Guinness likes it here," Amy insisted. "And you've protected me so far. My head even feels normal."

So he'd done a small bit of magic to ease the goose egg on her head. Alone, he couldn't shield her for long. He groaned, earning the hound's attention. He glared down at the beast. "How can you consider a dog's preferences over your own safety?"

"He was a gift from Aunt Camille." Amy's tone was as biting as winter wind on the icy, treeless plains. "So my eyes are weird. No one but Maeve really knows the difference around here."

Dare took a breath and tried again. "The Matchmaker has a team, needs a team, for support, to manage requests, and protect her from those who don't want her around."

"So call in the team. We've got a good system here in the meantime," Maeve said. "Camille knows I'm good as family. We can do this."

Tired of the repetitive message, Dare stared at the woman. Mere hours ago, while Amy had been lying unconscious on the office floor, Maeve had been trying to crawl inside his clothing. What changed?

"Look –"

"Hush," he ordered, pushing away from the table. He was missing something, some vital magic if the Matchmaker effect no longer influenced Maeve. He stretched out with his senses, searching for the smallest tendril of power, but he couldn't 'see' beyond the Matchmaker herself. The power radiating off Amy was disconcerting, daunting. It should have Maeve begging at his feet. How did he prove the urgency of her situation?

"Your aunt is imprisoned or dead, Amy. Because of her position."

"Ridiculous. There's another explanation."

He shook his head, scrubbed at the stubble on his jaw. Wondered at his extreme lack of ability in the face of this challenge. He'd helped match trolls, for the love of holy matrimony. "This is hardly a secure place for you."

"According to you, if I go to a hotel, the staff will start an orgy the moment I arrive." She motioned for him to sit down. "Have another helping."

"I'm not hungry." But he sat, searching for the right angle, the tipping point, as Camille called it. What did he know? Remembering her account of Maeve's odd behavior before the werewolf attack he poured more noodles onto is plate. "This morning wasn't proof enough of the Matchmaker's effect?"

He didn't bother hiding his smirk as both women blushed.

"Save it and all your magic lingo," Amy scolded, glaring at him. "I'm not letting you lock me in a room. Especially a room without Guinness. I can't pop him in a crate and overnight him to the house, you know."

He didn't care if they thought he was a hard ass. However Camille disappeared, by choice or by force, it was enough to cause the transfer of power and he wasn't taking any chances with this Matchmaker. "As the only one in this room with experience, I'm in charge until you have an acceptable team in place."

They stared at him a moment before bursting into laughter. Curse the whole girlfriend system and all their devil networks.

Amy got her breath back first. "I can't just use Camille's team?"

"Not if you stay here." There, he noted that gave them both pause. He used the silence to try and root out what magic might be enhancing Maeve's resistance. The flowers? They were from the florist on King Street. Maybe it was just the depth of their friendship, but that would imply a level of control that had taken Camille years to master.

"I bet the very first matchmaker didn't have a team."

Dare scowled at Maeve. For a 'best' friend, she seemed determined to get Amy killed in a hurry. "No, she didn't. Which is probably why she advised otherwise for those who inherited the post."

Amy cleared her throat. "So how did you meet Aunt Camille?"

"She was my second assignment after graduation." He struggled with the slippery noodles on his plate. "What is so appealing about Thai food?"

Maeve chuckled. "You said you liked it."

"I do. Tonight it seems particularly challenging." He nudged the plate aside, only to move it again as the dog came sniffing around. His hand brushed the basket of flowers and he felt another jolt of magic. Not comfort this time as much as joy for life, as if he'd been whisked down memory lane to the brightest moment of his childhood.

Being so far from the assistance of Camille's well-trained team, he had to consider tapping local power to protect the Matchmaker. "You have not received a package from the M – from Camille?"

Amy sighed, clearly perturbed, though he'd directed the question at Maeve. He didn't trust her not to hide such a delivery from him, thinking she was protecting her friend. He'd never had a greater appreciation for his role on the security detail rather than at the negotiations proper. Relationships were a pain in the ass, and personal agendas twisted up things that should be easy.

"We've covered this," Amy began.

"Only the letter, delivered by you. If she sent a package –" Maeve continued.

"A book."

"– a package like a book," Amy agreed. "My assistant probably assumed it was the annual delivery of grandma's fruitcake. No one wants to open that."

"True enough."

"You know about my grandma's fruitcake?"

Darian winced, making a cross with his fingers.

"He knows," Maeve confirmed. "But the letter says the package would be hand-delivered."

"Like I delivered the letter," Dare said, nodding. He could only hope the book's messenger was having better luck. What had Camille been thinking, taking these risks?

"Dare, you've more than qualified yourself as a friend of the family, but that doesn't mean I'm leaving Charleston before this class is done. I made a plan and a list of things I wanted to do here."

He understood plans, respected lists, but the danger surrounding her was very real. "And what of those things with their own plans and lists that include your capture or death?"

It hurt to even speak the words and he rubbed his chest where his heart ached with guilt and failure. He didn't expect it to get easier. The Guards trained him, but some things – the grittier sorts of things – couldn't be adequately expressed by theory.

He'd watched Camille write thousands of letters during his service as her bodyguard. Personally, he'd posted several to Amy. Not once had Camille given a single clue to the trouble she was facing.

The trouble she'd faced alone.

"You really think Camille is gone."

Dare sympathized with Amy's inability to speak of a more dire, permanent result, but there was no getting around the facts. This young woman had come into the power with unparalleled speed. "There is ever only one Matchmaker. You have the eyes." He thought of Maeve's earlier advances. "You have the effect. It is time to accept it and behave accordingly."

She reached down to pet the greyhound's ear. "It's so much to take in. Too much. What I considered an exercise in mythology and legends of literature, you're saying was my aunt's way of preparing me."

And that worried him more than he cared to admit.

There was an explanation, one only Camille could provide. How had he spent every day and night with the woman and not known her, not known what she'd been thinking or planning?

It took a canny woman – or a fool – to send a legendary book of power across continents through the mail service. Camille wasn't a fool. A fool wouldn't have cared enough to make provisions for a sudden demise. And thinking of her demise saddened him.

"I need to get out of here," Amy said, coming to her feet.

Finally! "We can be on the road in an hour." But the weak smile on her face deflated him. "Of course that's not what you meant."

"No. There's too much I want to see here. Can't we just walk down to the Battery? The houses still have Christmas lights up."

"Surely you've done this with her already." He pointed at Maeve. He didn't want to think about how much energy it would require to escort her among susceptible humans and keep her safe from the more dangerous elements.

"Well, yeah. But you haven't. You should see something of the world."

Dare did a double take. Was this more hand me down memory? Camille had said the same thing before she'd sent him off with the letter for Amy. He'd seen plenty of the world traveling from one assignment to the other ensuring the safety of the Matchmaker.

"We can keep it short. It's really a nice night."

Dare relented. Compromise was key in negotiations. "We'll have to keep it short. I don't have a lot of strength left to shield you."

"Shield me?"

"Your effect on humans. It's probably increasing by the hour. With a shield charm I can keep them sane. With a small modification, I can add enough to keep you safe from other species as well."

"I see."

"Cool!"

For the first time the two women had had different reactions.

He shrugged. "It's a compromise." A tactic he rarely practiced. Camille listened to his advice. He knew better than to waste time comparing this matchmaker with the last one, but circumstances had changed so quickly, it was a natural reaction. "We go out and do this and you go home to the book."

"I don't intend to go home until I spend a day on the beach."

He didn't like that gleam in her eye or the 'take a shot' tilt of her chin. Dare felt the blood pulse in his pointed ears. "The beach." Choose your battles. A favorite phrase of Camille, the Elite Guard, and his mother. He might even call it his motto. "We'll discuss it later." After she spent some time out in public, witnessing the havoc she created. He made a sweeping bow to the door. "After you."

"Come on, Guinness." The dog leaped to action, prancing as she clipped the leash to his collar.

"You two have fun," Maeve called after them.

As he watched Amy saunter out into the cool evening he felt a wicked urge to lift the magic he was using to protect her. It was the fastest way to convince her to heed his advice, but he needed her to trust him. At least until she was in possession of the book and another of the Elite Guard could relieve him.

He walked beside her down the narrow sidewalk, with no care for the few centuries the humans celebrated. Bleak thoughts about his future clouded his view. Gilly had sent him another text while they'd been arguing over Thai food and it wasn't any cause for hope.

What was he going to do? Traveling just to 'see the world' wasn't his idea of a good time. He missed Camille, he missed his professional calling. Why send him away just when she needed him most? His breath hitched as pain lanced through his heart.

"Are you all right?"

He forced a smile and shrugged off her concern.

"You're doing the shield thing for me, right?"

He nodded.

"Does it hurt?"

He shook his head and pointed to the twinkling lights of the nearest house as they turned onto the street lined with massive mansions. The architecture was beautiful, but he wasn't the sort to enjoy living in a big crowd of people who weren't aware enough to acknowledge his existence. Although he had to confess, Charleston was less populated than other areas of the world the Matchmakers didn't think he'd seen.

"Will I always need someone to shield me?"

He shook his head again, not trusting his voice. His mind was running through the odds of finding Camille. Regardless of the hard line he'd given Amy, he refused to believe she was dead. He wondered if he could find her now that she wasn't the Matchmaker. To those who knew of magic and legends, the Matchmaker glowed like a beacon. It was one reason she traveled with a team. For protection, assistance, and companionship.

A bolt of panic hit him like an uppercut to the chin. If Camille wasn't dead, only contained, what would her captors do when she lost her powers?

Amy nudged him, tipping her head toward a human couple who'd gone from casual conversation to an intense liplock. Cursing his distraction, he stepped between Amy and the couple to blunt her effect. "We should keep moving," he said, grateful when the dog trotted ahead, forcing her forward.

"Did I do that?"

"Who else?"

"Maybe their mutual interest?"

He snorted. "We should go back." He was low on patience and his rolling emotions only made protecting her more difficult. For her safety, and his sanity, he needed to get her to the Matchmaker's book and find a bodyguard for her. He didn't know any elves in the area, just some lore about a tree of life. He'd asked Gilly to investigate any local resources, but it would take time.

"It's chilly here by the water," she said.

The interruption was welcome, and though it wasn't an enthused agreement, he appreciated the effort. "The lights are nice," he admitted as they crossed South Battery to head back up to Maeve's neighborhood.

She snorted. "There's a great little dessert shop over on Market."

"No," he grunted. His stomach was twisting itself inside out. "I'm losing my hold."

"What?"

But he couldn't talk and keep her protected. He kept moving, urging her forward, desperate to find safety. They passed into the bright wash of a streetlight and Amy gasped, tugging on her ear as she looked at him.