~ Fourteen ~
AS ROYCE WATCHED him play, hidden in her invisibility, it occurred to her that young David was nearly seven years old.
How many times she had ruffled his dark, wavy hair and hugged him close. She had so enjoyed playing ‘nanny’ until his parents were able to hire Miss Gretchen.
She had been the perfect choice, and Royce remembered how she had found the older woman sitting on a bench in a park. Miss Gretchen’s children were grown and off to different parts of the world, and she was lonely and in need of something to do.
Royce had taken her by the hand and delivered her to the Hanson family. She had stayed close those first few weeks, needing to see for herself that it was working out for young David and Gretchen.
And then the Dark Fae began escaping in numbers.
Royce blinked away the day she almost lost young David. He would not have died, but he would have been paralyzed. She was glad she broke the rules. She was glad she healed him. It was the only acceptable thing to do!
She sighed as she watched him now and thought about having a child of her own. Fae were not so lucky—it was difficult for them to conceive. Would she and Chance perhaps have a baby one day? The notion made her tingle all over.
David’s father must have set up the tent for him in their fenced-in backyard. What a wonderful idea! She could see that he was totally absorbed in setting up his ‘camping’ equipment, and Royce giggled to herself.
His mother was in the kitchen. Royce planned to go in and visit with her before she went to David, but just now watching him play was all that she wanted. It reminded her of a simpler time—a time before the Dark Fae—when all seemed right with her world.
“He is a beautiful child, isn’t he?” said a horribly familiar voice in her ear.
She wrenched out of the hands that had gripped her shoulders and backed away, shocked and horrified. When in the cloaking of the Féth Fiada, Fae were invisible to humans, but not to other Fae.
Royce gasped because she couldn’t speak.
Pestale!
Her mind reeled with this unexpected turn of events.
Pestale … here … with David and his family!
What had she done? She had led him right to her one weakness. How did he know she would come here? How did he know about David and his family? Did he actually know how much this human family meant to her, or had he simply followed her scent just to get to her? Perhaps he wouldn’t realize she cared about this family. Were they safely out of the equation?
He was also cloaked in the invisibility of the Féth Fiada. His face drawn in hard lines, he said, “Now then, Seelie Princess … we shall talk on
my terms
.”
* * *
Chance and Trevor eyed their surroundings. They stood in the central hall of an old English Tudor-styled house. It was furnished with dark mahogany pieces of the time. Other than that, nothing about the place felt right.
There was no sign of life.
They had their swords ready and moved in unison in a slow circle, but Chance knew it was for nothing. Pestale wasn’t there.
“What trickery is this?” Chance asked of himself out loud. He had a really bad feeling. Why would Pestale trick them into believing he was here in the past? And then it dawned on him, “Trevor, he has gone to our time—
he has gone after m’lass!
”
Terror rushed through his veins. Was he destined to lose his beloved, just as his father had—at the hands of another man?
NO! No …
He shouted the words,
“
Tabhair ar ais
,”
and with a sudden shift they were walking through the same tunnel Royce had traveled only a short while before.
“I doona like this time travel—it doesn’t feel right,” Chance grumbled worriedly. “We haven’t time for this. I need to shift to her.”
“I agree,” said Trevor. “The queen always said time travel was dangerous even for the wisest amongst us. She said … the temptation to change and alter things that had no business being tampered with was too great.”
“Aye … ye mean if I went back to the day Lana was killed and saved her? Something bad would come of that?”
“I think so. No one knows, do they, what would happen if we changed the past,” Trevor said thoughtfully.
“Aye, well then, if I could I would. I would stop her from being killed, and I canna believe anything bad would come of that.”
“No, but if she was meant to be lost to us, Chance, then we might lose her a day later … a month later … who knows,” Trevor suggested.
Chance sighed and pointed with the sword he still held. “Aye then … time to step out of this time portal … and kill the bastard before he gets to Royce.”
“I believe it is a magical wormhole, not tunnel,” said Trevor.
Chance didn’t answer as they took their first steps into their time and found themselves on the edge of the Lower Lake in Killarney.
“Now—where would m’lass go?”
Trevor gave it some thought. “The nightclub—the nightclub where he abducted those poor women from!”
They regarded one another and then shifted.
* * *
Royce’s only concern was for David and his family. She couldn’t think past that; all she wanted to do, at any cost, was to get Pestale away from them.
She shifted, sure he would follow her at this point, and stood on the busy main thoroughfare of Temple Bar, waiting for him.
It was still early evening; dusk had not settled, and the crowds had not moved in yet. No one noticed her sudden appearance or Pestale’s for that matter when he arrived only a few moments after her.
Her eyes narrowed as she studied the tall, black-haired Dark Prince, and he smirked at her. He looked like evil waiting to happen. She felt repulsed as he reached out and took her elbow to steer her towards a quiet pub on the corner of the main thoroughfare and a short, one-way street.
“What did you think you were doing, Princess?” He clucked his tongue. “You know better than to try and escape me. You aren’t cloaked in black magic, and your scent—your delicious scent—is so easy to track.”
She knew how to disguise her scent, but she hadn’t wished to. She had wanted him to follow her. She knew he was too far gone. It wouldn’t even occur to him that she was protecting David and his family by steering him away. He didn’t think along those lines.
He pushed her roughly towards the pub. “Hush now … no quiet mind links with your lover, the Milesian. We can’t have that, now can we?”
“What makes you think I would listen to you—do anything you ask?”
“Because you don’t want me to harm that boy—what was his name? David—ah, that’s right. Young David. You broke your queen’s rules for David. You healed him. I watched you heal him.” He reached and caught a lock of her hair. “It was the first time that I saw you … and knew you had to be mine.”
She was in shock. He knew. He knew all about David. He knew how to get to her—through threats directed towards David. What—oh what was she going to do?
Ignoring the hostess who met them at the door, Pestale walked Royce to a dark corner, pulled out a chair, and pushed her into it. He pulled one up close to her and sat. “There. I see we understand one another. There will be no more running from me, because I know now where he lives.
You led me to him
.”
She was responsible for this.
She had no idea that he would follow her scent. She had thought he was in the past—now she understood why it didn’t feel right. It had been illusion. She had led him to David. It was all her fault. She sat perfectly still. She was stunned, and her mind was trying to find a solution.
“I thought you were in England … in another century,” she said, stalling for time. Chance and Trevor would come; they would help her protect David.
“You saw what I wanted you to see,” he answered deliberately as he played with the saltshaker.
A waitress ambled over, but he chased her away with a thought and returned his attention to Royce. “You aren’t hungry—are you, love?”
She ignored this and frowned. She had to stall him. “Yes, but you were there.”
“I was, but only for a short time. I have learned a great many things about you, Princess.” He gazed at her for a long moment and added, “What I learned told me what I needed to do. Those girls died … for a reason. They died because I knew what
you
would do. You wouldn’t leave them there in the past. You would take them back to their time, their loved ones, and that is what you did. And then it was just a matter of waiting a bit longer for you to visit the human family you have grown so attached to.”
“Are you telling me that you butchered them for no other reason than—” she spat at him.
He cut her off. “Yes.” He sighed. “What is all the fuss? They are humans … their lives are nothing.” He reached for her hand, but she pulled it away sharply. “You will give me your hand. You will give me your mouth and lay yourself down for me—and one day you will do so willingly.”
Royce felt fear clutch at her insides. “I don’t see it that way.” She gave him a hard look. “What I see is a cold-blooded killer, selfish and dark inside—I could never be with someone like you!”
“Allow me to explain. As I have said, you will be mine—all mine and very shortly. I followed you, and now, I know where young David and his family live. There is nothing you can do about that. It is time for you to accept the inevitable and begin to think how you may enjoy eternity at my side.”
“The inevitable—eternity with you?” she said in horror.
“You will come with me willingly. You will leave a message for Chancemont LeBlanc and your Fae pal, telling them you have decided it would be more … fun to rule the world at my side than take orders from your Seelie queen.”
“Or?” She knew the answer even as she posed the question.
“Or, simply put, I will torture and maim the child,” Pestale said with one dark brow arched.
How could he? How could he be so evil? “It won’t work,” she snapped. “Chance will never believe such a thing of me. You think you know me, but you don’t. He, however, does, and he will search you out and kill you!”
“I don’t really care what he believes. In the end, he will have no choice but to believe it, for if he finds us and asks you to return with him,
you won’t
.”
She had to think. She had to find a way out of this. She was desperate. She called on her invisibility and her Death Sword simultaneously.
She sliced through the air to get at him, but he was too fast for her; he’d already shifted behind her and held the wrist of her sword hand firmly. “Do not make me punish you, lovely Princess. I want you, yes. I may even have to admit feelings for you … that I had not thought possible, but I will hurt you if I must to get my way. That hurt will be indirect. I would start first with the father … then the mother.”
Royce closed her eyes, and her shoulders slumped. She sent her Death Sword away, fearing he might grapple it from her. She didn’t believe the sword would allow itself to be taken by any but one of her family, but at this point she was taking no chances till she could spell it. She was in trouble, so she threatened, “Chance will chase you to the ends of the earth. He has sworn vengeance, and in the end Chance will beat you—whether you have me or not.”
“Ah, but how can he chase me through time without the Peckering? You have it, and she answers to you.” He clucked his tongue. “
Think, you
—I planned this all ahead.”
“He will find a way. He will work with my queen to find a way into whatever past you scurry to, and he will kill you, regardless of what I say or do.”
“Will he? I think not—I am thoroughly prepared, you see … and shall await his arrival should he break the time barrier without your Peckering and enter my domain.” He reached for her hand. “Now come …”
“
You will not touch me
,”
she said, seething.
“There is the father, the mother, the child,” he said quietly. “Will you sacrifice them?”
“
Yes
,”
she bluffed. “For I will
not
be touched against my will! I am coming with you because I believe I can find a way out of this. I will give in for the moment to only that—accompany you to hell, but I believe Chance will come for me and will kill you … I …”
“Very well,” he said confidently. “As long as you come with me. I know in the end you will be seduced by the desire I have for you.” He took her wrist and pulled her in close for a kiss.
She allowed him to touch her lips with his and then bit him, hard. When he drew back in pain and shock, she said in a voice that was a mixture of fury, disgust, and hatred, “Don’t try that again.” For emphasis, her sword once again appeared in her fist, and she swished it through the air, spelling it with ancient words.
“What have you done—what spell was that?” he asked, mild concern displayed in his expression.