Courting Darkness (15 page)

“I don’t know who he was. The first time, he tried to charm me, that much I can tell. I think he thought I was human and easily swayed. When that didn’t work, he left. Today he came in, trying to bribe me by offering me a brilliant cut diamond. It was gorgeous, but I don’t need diamonds. He seemed puzzled when I wouldn’t take it.”

I licked my lips. “Describe him?”

“He was around five nine, wiry but muscled. Bald with a single ponytail that was gathered from the center of his head. He looked . . . different, but I don’t know how to describe it. Dressed in leather and fur. But I know this: He knows how to work magic. And he was intent on finding out when you were going to be down here, which is why I’m glad you came in through the back today.”

“Yeah . . .” I hesitated. Coming in the back way was no guarantee to remaining anonymous. “I think I’d better get home. Delilah and I have a problem brewing, and I don’t need another on top of it.”

I called for Delilah and she came dashing down the stairs, carrying a sheaf of papers. “We’ve got to go. I shouldn’t be here right now.”

She gave me a quizzical look, then shrugged. “I’ll meet you at the car. I want to grab a couple cookies from the coffee shop.”

Smiling—Death Maiden or not, Delilah would forever be my younger sister—I nodded. “Just don’t take too long.”

I gathered up the books—it was time to go through them before sending them to the accountant—and then headed out the door, after thanking Giselle for keeping such a good watch on the shop. I climbed in the car and waited, watching the snow lazily fall on the ground.
Too much,
I whispered to myself.
Too much worry, too much to face, too much to lose.

And then Delilah jumped in, warm cookies in her hands, and we took off for home, bathed in the wash of the fresh-fallen snow.

 

“Who do you think it was?” she asked on the way, handing me a cookie.

I waved away the sweet. For once, I didn’t have much of an appetite. “I think . . . I think it was someone connected with Hyto. Remember, Trytian said he was traveling with a snow monkey.”

“Fuck.” Delilah leaned back in her seat, nibbling on the chocolate chip cookie. “They know where the shop is, then.”

“Can you imagine what a dragon could do to my shop? To the restaurant? To all the people there?” Visions of screaming customers, caught afire from dragon’s breath, raced through my head. Hyto wasn’t
just
Smoky’s father. He was a terrifying dragon—easily capable of destroying everything I’d worked to build up, along with any number of innocents. And he wouldn’t care—FBHs were dust specks to him. And I was the thorn in his side.

“What are you going to do?” Delilah’s voice dropped, and I realized she’d suddenly grasped the severity of what could happen.

“I don’t know. Should I close the shop for now? Stacia killed Henry because of me. And she was leading a targeted campaign. What a crazed dragon might do . . . I can’t even think about it.”

I carefully navigated around a car stuck on the road. The streets were beginning to ice over with a thick layer of compacted snow beneath the glaze that was forming now that the temperature was dropping again. Though the traffic had melted off a layer of the snow during the day, now that it was afternoon the runoff would begin to freeze into black ice. Seattle drivers had no clue how to drive in the winter—and I was right there along with them. Except my reflexes were better than the average FBH’s.

By the time we neared the house, we were reduced to twenty miles per hour to avoid sliding into a ditch. I finally turned into our drive with a sigh of relief. Home glistened like a welcome scene out of a Thomas Kinkade painting.

As we scurried toward the house, slogging through the snow to the porch—which someone had shoveled clean, though it was starting to pile up again—the chill of the air caught me. The temperature was dropping fast and would likely hit the low twenties tonight. That would make for a lovely commute tomorrow.

“If it’s this cold now, I dread to see what it’s going to be like tonight.”

Delilah nodded. “I wish Menolly would skip driving her Jag and just go for a nice long walk to the Wayfarer—the cold wouldn’t bother her.”

“That might be a good idea. She wouldn’t really hurt herself much in a crash—at least not most crashes—but she could hurt someone else without meaning to.” As I opened the door, the bustle of the day hit us full force.

Trillian was setting the table for a late lunch. Iris and Rozurial were cooking up a huge pot of spaghetti and meatballs. Smoky was stomping in from the back porch, and I caught sight of the snow shovel as he hung it back up on its nail.

Shade was in the living room, coaxing a fire in the new woodstove we’d bought to help keep heating costs down. He blew lightly on the crumpled newspaper beneath the tinder, and it caught from the sparks that flew off his breath.

“Shamas at work?” I asked.

He nodded. “Yeah, he has the day shift this week, though he may sleep there if the roads are too bad.” As he stood, Delilah moved to him and he enfolded her in his arms, kissing her deeply, rubbing his hand up and down her back. They belonged together, as if they’d known each other all their lives. Even from the outside, I could feel the bond that had woven between the two.

The doorbell rang and I went to answer. It was Bruce, Iris’s boyfriend. He motioned for me to come out on the porch. Shivering, I followed him.

“What’s up? Why don’t you come in?”

He smiled, then pulled out something from his pocket. He looked like a young man barely in his thirties—right around Iris’s relative age. I wasn’t sure how the aging process worked among sprites and leprechauns, but I knew both were far, far older than me in chronological years—hundreds of years older. His tousled brunette hair was curly, reaching his shoulders, and his eyes sparkled with the purest blue—matching Iris’s own. He actually looked a lot like Roz, only without the dangerous edge. Bruce and Iris made a striking couple.

“I wanted to ask your opinion about something,” he said, holding out a box. “Do you think she’ll like this?”

I flipped it open. There, against the velvet cushion, rested a platinum band with a sparkling mixed-cut blue sapphire that had to be at least a full carat. On either side nestled half-carat diamond baguettes.

Gasping, I shook my head. “Oh, Bruce. She’ll love this. This is . . . this is beautiful.” I glanced at him. “So are you going to officially ask her today?”

He blushed. “Aye, my sweet. It’s time I did it proper. And she is free now, to accept. She called me last night and we talked long and deep. She told me what happened. I know her dark secrets. She told me if I wanted to walk, she wouldna blame me. She did kill her fiancé, after all. But the gods work as they will, and I would expect my lass to follow the will of her Lady and rid the world of evil. She did the right thing.”

I bit my lip. “Iris will want to stay here. Are you willing to move onto our land? We can help you build a home all your own—we have plenty of room here. Seven acres’ worth.”

“I would move to the moon, should that be where my Iris wanted to live.” And when he smiled at me, I felt like the sun had come out. No wonder Iris was taken with him. Bruce O’Shea was like a welcome ray of sunshine and I could practically feel him tugging a rainbow along with him.

“Then come in. And Bruce, in advance, without jinxing it, welcome to the family.” I leaned down and gave him a solid hug. And for one moment, I was able to block out the fear that had taken over my day.

Lunch started out with a bang. We were gathered around the table when Bruce stood up and cleared his throat. Iris stared at him, her mouth full of spaghetti. I grabbed Smoky’s hand under the table. He gave me an inscrutable look but smiled at me.

“Iris and I’ve been courting for a while now, and though I’ve been a fool at times, she’s made me a better man.” Bruce shifted from one foot to the other. “I know her secrets, she knows mine. And now, ’tis time to step up and be the man she’s helped me become. I know you all consider Iris part of your family. Therefore it is only fitting that I beg your permission to ask for her hand in marriage. She is—and always will be—the girl of my dreams.”

He was grinning like an idiot, but I could see fear masked behind his eyes—the fear of being rejected.

Iris gasped, but he looked at me and then Delilah. “You two might as well be her sisters . . . and Miss Menolly, too. Would you object to having me for a brother-in-law, should Iris accept my proposal?”

I broke into a smile a mile wide, wanting to cry. So often our meals were tempered with bad news, but this . . . “I have no objection, but know you this, Master Leprechaun: If you hurt our Iris, you’ll have all of us to deal with.”

Delilah laughed and clapped her hands. “I agree. I so agree. Oh, I wish Menolly were awake, but Iris, you can tell her first thing.”

The men murmured, but I shut them up with a look. I turned back to Bruce. “Go on, then. If you want some privacy, the parlor is free.”

“No,” Iris said, slowly. “You are family. You’ve seen me through so much. It’s only fitting you should share this.” She stood and Bruce knelt at her feet, taking her hand in his.

“I am not of your race, I am not of your background. But I come to you, a son of the Rainbow Goddess. A son bound by the golden locks of both the goddess Iris, and my love, Iris.” He clasped her hand to his lips and kissed it. “I promise you: I will honor you, give you shelter, give you children if it be the will of the gods, and love you as long as love shall last. Will you, Iris Kuusi, accept my offer of marriage and join me as my wife?”

Iris stared at him, her eyes glazing over like clouds in a blue sky. She sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Bruce O’Shea, I am not of your race. I am not of your background. I am the daughter of the goddess Undutar, priestess to the snow and mist. I am a child of the ice floes. I accept your offer to marry. I will honor you, make a home for you and our children, should the gods bless us. I will protect the household, and love you as long as love shall last.”

And then she burst into tears, smiling, and fell into his arms, kissing his face, his eyes, even as he sought her lips.

 

After lunch, Smoky, Trillian, and I wandered into the living room. Delilah and Shade had volunteered to clean up so that Bruce and Iris could have the afternoon to themselves, and they were also taking care of Maggie.

Roz meandered in, looking bored. “Vanzir called. He’ll be home in a few minutes.” He gave me a short but meaningful look, and I gave him a quick nod. Crap. We’d have to be on guard. Again. Everybody but my husbands knew what had gone down.

I decided to fill the guys in on what Delilah and I had found. During lunch, Bruce’s proposal had taken precedence and I didn’t want to spoil it for Iris. Whether we discussed what next to do then or at dinner wouldn’t matter.

“Come upstairs—you, too, Roz. I want to tell you all something, and I should tell Morio while I’m at it. Delilah will fill Shade in on matters.” I dashed down the hall and stuck my head in the kitchen. “I sent the guys upstairs. I’m going to tell them about Chase. You run down the situation with Shade and come up after you’re done with the dishes.”

“No problem.” Delilah waved me on. I’d started up the stairs to meet the guys when I heard the front door open. Must be Vanzir. And once again, we’d be walking on eggshells.

Smoky and Trillian sprawled on the sofa in Morio’s room, while Roz sat on a nearby ottoman. Morio was propped up by a wall of pillows. He looked a little stronger today. I hurried to his side and planted a long kiss on his lips.

“How was your day?” He stroked my cheek, his nails black and sharp. He hadn’t changed into either his fox or demonic form since he’d been hurt—he wouldn’t have the energy to change back.

I pressed his hand to my lips and kissed each finger, licking the tips gently. He shuddered, closing his eyes. Morio had seldom talked about his heritage—he was Japanese and had come over when summoned by Grandmother Coyote, one of the Hags of Fate—but I suddenly wondered: What would his family think of me? He was married now. Had he told them? I’d never even thought to ask.

“Love, does your family know about your marriage to me?” I tilted my head, waiting.

He cupped my chin, lifting it slightly. “Yes, they know about you and your sisters. They know about us. Someday, you will meet them. They were . . . not entirely pleased, but neither were they against it. They reserve judgment. And they trust my instincts.”

That was more than I’d hoped for. I nodded and didn’t bother to press the subject. As far as Trillian was concerned, I knew that he had long ago left his home and abandoned his family—or rather, they’d abandoned him. It wasn’t even an issue with him.

Just then, Vanzir came creeping into the room. He was pale, which was normal—he looked a lot like David Bowie as the Goblin King in
Labyrinth
—but tonight he looked even more withdrawn. His eyes were luminous, swirling kaleidoscopes of a color to which we couldn’t even put a name.