Lie Down with Dogs (20 page)

And then I fell.

––––––––

“T
here you are.” Linen towered over me with a drink clutched in his hand. “Where did you go just now?”

A long minute passed while I parsed out where I was (
not
safe at my hotel), who he was and why those things should frighten me. I inhaled through a stuffy nose, but the only scent I could identify was the kind of damp smell I associated with the earth.

The dim room loomed tall and narrow behind him. Parquet floors. Knotty oak paneling. Drop ceiling with thick-grain panels stained dark. The decor reminded me of a gentlemen’s club straight out of the movies. I half-expected Linen to light up a fat cigar to puff while he swirled port in a squat glass.

My captor leaned closer, and the tickle of alcohol and brine hit my nose. “Did you hear me?”

Shared dreams with Rook were private, almost intimate, and I wasn’t about to answer him.

“Where are we?” Lifting my head sent shards of pain knifing through my brain. “What is this place?”

Talking made my jaw throb like I had been punched. Worse was an incessant chattering noise.

My teeth.

When I shoved off the chilly cushions beneath me and sat upright, the whole world sloshed with the motion. I gritted my teeth until equilibrium was restored. The leather couch where I sat had a new-car smell. When I shifted into a new position, gooseflesh raced down my exposed legs. Shorts had been a bad idea.

If I had known I was going to be kidnapped, I would have dressed more appropriately.

“This is my home.” Linen, whose real name escaped me, beamed. “You are welcome here.”

I stood and swayed on my feet. “I appreciate your hospitality, but I should be going.”

He knocked me back with a tap of his index finger. “You’ve only just arrived.” He snapped his fingers, and a door I couldn’t quite see from this angle creaked open. A painfully thin woman entered the room holding an oversized tray level with her breasts. A single glass of clear liquid sat positioned in the exact center. Her hair hung in sculpted curls down her back, and the makeup caking her face tricked me into thinking she was human. Until she stepped closer and a sharp whiff of decomposition hit me.

“Don’t look at her like that,” Linen chided. “She lasted longer than most.”

As I stared down my possible future, I had to ask, “Is this what you have in mind for me?”

“No.”

He answered a beat too late, and I didn’t believe him.

“What did you do to her?” Zombies weren’t exactly uncommon. New Orleans, for example, was lousy with them in the summer. But I had never seen one in person, and never one so well-preserved.

Linen approached the woman and brushed the hair from her temple, exposing a small, clean dot the circumference of the eraser on a pencil. He leaned in close and opened his mouth. Another filament, this one a fleshy color, passed from his lips into the hole. The woman—corpse—jolted when he closed his lips and hollowed his cheeks. He drank deep before retracting his strawlike appendage with a soft groan.

I threw up a little in my mouth.

Worse than the floorshow was the knowledge that zombies are unfeeling. They can be controlled by the person who raised them, but they don’t act without orders. They’re dead. They feel no pain. They don’t think, either. They are globs of people-shaped clay for their makers to impress their will upon.

The woman shouldn’t have flinched.

Linen enjoyed his production so much, I wouldn’t put it past him to give her cues to
act
aware just to unsettle me, but the motions orchestrated by him—her entering the room and carrying the tray—were jerky. Almost like she fought him every step of the way. That one cringe was fluid, responsive. It was real.

The woman, or what was left of her, was still alive.

I tamped down the fury sparking in my palm. I did not want to become more interesting to him.

“You made your point.” I balked when the woman extended the tray toward me. Her trembling fingers rattled the ice in the glass, but I took it because I worried what might happen to her if I refused. Certain she wasn’t fae, I felt safe saying, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, hon.”

Shocked by the warmth in her voice, I lifted my gaze to hers, and recognition slammed into me.

Jenna.

Little remained of the smiling mother of two from the photo Shaw had shown me, but this was no doubt the same woman from the surveillance video.

I wiped every trace of emotion from my face. Showing concern for her might make things worse. For both of us.

“It’s not poisoned.” Linen’s voice dragged my attention back to him. “You should try it.”

I sniffed the contents of the glass. Numb-nosed, I had no idea what the concoction was. Not water. It stung my sinuses like alcohol. “I’m good.”

“You need to drink,” he chastised me. “You don’t want to get dehydrated.”

“I saw what you did to Mai.” Whatever he gave her, she had gone off her rocker. “I’m not interested.”

“Mai was a silly girl drinking a fruity drink at a bar. You’re a woman who’s gone sixteen hours without fluid. You must be thirsty.” He tilted his head. “Unless... When was the last time you fed?”

“None of your damn business,” I said hotly.

I barely shared that shame with Shaw. No way was I exposing the raw guilt festering in my gut to this psycho. My regret was mine, and I wasn’t in an introspective mood.

His expression shifted, and he let the question slide. “Drink.”

“Not happening.”

“You seem to be under the mistaken impression that you have a choice.” The fleshy appendage hissed through his lips, snakelike and threatening. “Perhaps I have been too lenient with you. Perhaps you don’t respond as well to the niceties I expected someone of your social status to appreciate. More’s the pity.”

He snapped his fingers, and Jenna lunged at me. She palmed my scalp and yanked my head back with one hand. Condensation lubricated the glass, and she jerked it out of my hand in one smooth motion.

I had a choice to make. I could hurt her, or I could let her hurt me. No matter who she was to Shaw, it wasn’t in me to accept this kind of punishment and not fight back. Time to summon reinforcements.

“Tahlil paque
.” To me.

My voice rang clear and strong through the room.

And nothing happened.

Linen laughed under his breath, savoring my confusion. “I wondered when we would get to this part.”

“What have you done to my guards?” I snarled.

“So protective.” He crossed to me and brushed his bony knuckles along my cheekbone. “Would you feel better if I let you see them? If you knew both males were perfectly well and unharmed?”

I nodded as much as I was able. Jenna wasn’t letting go. Smart woman. The element of surprise only worked once. No matter. Backup was coming. Between the guards and me, we could take Linen. Jenna too. If we had to.

Linen spoke louder so his voice carried through the doorway. “Odhran, Daire, come in here, please.”

Righty and Lefty entered the room wearing somber expressions. Neither looked at me. Probably better that way. They needed to focus on the threat. Any minute now, they would draw their weapons.

Any minute now...

“There.” Linen patted Righty on the shoulder. “Is that better?”

“Hi, guys.” It was the best greeting I could manage while the not-exactly-a-zombie had my head cranked back, yanking a fistful of my hair out by its roots while she waited for further instructions.

However, it wasn’t enough for Linen, who lifted his own glass in a mock salute.

“Thierry, if you could only see your face.” He expelled a small, cruel laugh. “You trusted them. You’re still waiting for them to spring forward, swords drawn to disembowel me on their way to rescuing you.”

I felt the blood rush from my cheeks. “That was eerily similar to the scenario I had in mind, yes.”

“We are loyal to Faerie.” Righty cut his eyes toward me. “We are faithful to the crown and the one who wears it.”

I ran a finger across my forehead. “Last I heard they were sizing it to fit me.”

His gaze lowered, and he didn’t speak again. Lefty stared at me—hard—but he didn’t say a word.

Linen flicked a hand toward the door. “You may go.”

They nodded in unison and exited...without as much as a pinky wave at me.

Linen was right. Even now my nerves were strung tight, waiting, expecting the guards to smash the door into splinters, barrel in here and deck Linen before untying me. Then I would feel stupid for the doubt seeping into the back of my mind, making my mouth taste bitter with fear.

But they had left me.
Left
me.

What had Righty meant by saying he and Lefty were faithful to the one who wears the crown?
Duh.
How else would they have gotten this gig? The crown-wearer? That would be
me
. Yet here I knelt, alone and cold, on a hardwood floor with a parasite gloating down at me and a she-zombie cranking back my neck until vertebrae popped.

The more time that lapsed, the more certain I became they weren’t coming back.

Linen would expect me to ask, and so I did. “Do they work for you?”

“Not exactly.” His eyes rolled toward the ceiling. “They’re on loan.”

Yeah, to me. Or so I had believed. “They were assigned to me by the consuls in Faerie.”

Concern dripped from his words. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I—” It hit me. “It wasn’t the consuls, was it? Rook arranged for them.”

Linen patted my cheek. “He did indeed.”

Parting words from my last dream came to me in a lucid snap.

She didn’t tell me.

“Rook relied on guards from his brother’s household.” The household he inherited when I killed Raven, a prince, and the rightful Unseelie heir to the throne of Faerie. “Guards who were loyal to Raven.”

She didn’t tell me.

The Morrigan.

“No, not Raven.” It was bigger than him. “The Morrigan.”

What hadn’t she told him? Which part? That my guards were deep in her pocket? He must have known. So either he accepted the risk on my behalf, or he was complicit. Had he known about Linen? Or had these machinations all been the Morrigan’s doing? And if the crown wasn’t mine, then whose was it?

Righty and Lefty—they must have been spying on Mai and me since day one. They were plants, obviously, but I figured they reported to Rook. Not this guy. Their betrayal explained how Linen knew where and when to put in an appearance at the hotel, and how he circumvented our
Thierry-as-bait
plan so easily. The guards had been feeding him intel. Easy enough when you can
poof
from one location to another.

“I understand you were unhappy with your marriage.” Linen’s mouth curled in an approximation of a smile. “That is no longer an issue. The prince regent will soon be a smudge on the annals of Faerie history. That leaves you free to—” he smoothed a hand down his shirt, “—enjoy the pleasures afforded you.”

Hot moisture leaked down my cheek, tears I blamed on Jenna’s grip scalping me. Stupid, stupid fae. Rook should have known better than to trust his mother.

“No tears.” Linen tutted. “The girl who gets her fondest wish can’t unwish it.”

I hauled my pendant from my shirt and pressed a thumb to its center. “I summon the Morrigan.”

He cocked his head, listening, waiting. “She appears to be otherwise occupied.” He wrested the medallion from me and studied it. “The conclave should have known better than to expect one such as her to come to heel when called by the half-bloods and exiles of the fae realm. That was their first mistake. The second was allowing your father to set his pathetic threshold with her standing on this side of it.” He dropped the necklace and shook his head. “They gave her this world.”

The shock of his implications jolted me. Mac was the one who set the threshold?

“You didn’t know.” He threw back his head and howled with laughter. “Macsen Sullivan loved this world, its people.” He pointed to me. “You’re living proof of his fascination with mortals. Maybe it was the hound in him. They are called
man
’s best friend, are they not?” Linen paced across the front of the room. “His inane rules not only applied to Faerie, but to the mortal realm as well. It’s his law the conclave adopted, and it was his decision to spill his own blood to create the threshold to Faerie, so that he would know who and what crossed into this world through his tethers.

“But Macsen was so flush with power in those days, so young to his new form and so eager to enact large-scale change that he forgot about the small things. He forgot those who were not fae were not his to command. He forgot those who were sworn to other gods were not his to control with his blood-red ink and paper skins.”

Linen’s tirade lasted until he ran out of breath. Good thing too. My brain was stuffed and couldn’t hold any more revelations.

My father had laid the threshold into Faerie.

My
father.

The threshold into Faerie.

All this time I figured Mac had slipped out of Faerie on a lark, that he had been bored and came here to play human. But what if his purpose was greater than that? Instead of taking a vacation from his duties in Faerie, what if this had been part of them? Maintenance on this side of the threshold?

No wonder that particular feat wasn’t common knowledge. The power it must have cost...unimaginable. And that was the bottomless well from where my power came. No wonder the conclave wanted me kept close.

I swiveled my eyes to track Linen. “What does the Morrigan want with me?”

He kept quiet for so long my back spasmed from Jenna’s death grip on my hair. “The Black Dog’s blood mends the fence that keeps the monsters where he feels they belong. That’s why he ran. He knew the fae were done with their vows of peace and their subservience to humanity. The fastest way to sever those ties was to break the man responsible for them. Only we can’t seem to find him.”

My father was many things, but he was not a coward. “He’s hunting King Moran’s killer.”

“He witnessed the beheading.” Linen slanted a pitying glance my way. “That is a nonissue.”