Radiant Shadows (9 page)

Ani was still shaken hours after she left Bananach—a situation only made worse by the fact that someone was following her.
Perhaps Bananach let me leave only to find out where I’d go?
Ani wasn’t sure. The Barracuda’s windows were tinted so dark that she couldn’t see the driver, but she could tell that her stalker was arrogant. To follow someone in such a sweet ride spoke volumes about the driver’s personality. In a faery, that sort of surety and egotism wouldn’t be surprising, but most faeries didn’t drive. It wasn’t an option with so much steel, and having a custom car made of faery-friendly materials was foolish.

There are a few though.

She tried to think over the rare faeries who’d found beautiful machines appealing enough to have nonsteel machines constructed. It was a small list. Mostly, faeries would ride a beast glamoured to look like a motorcycle or even have a car fashioned out of magic and earthen materials. They
wouldn’t be able to create this. The engine growled with barely restrained energy, so much so that it appeared to shiver as it crawled after her.

She turned down the alley.
No, not a faery.
Odds were that a mortal drove the Barracuda; she could confront a mortal.

It turned in behind her. The typical heavy scent of exhaust was absent as the car eased up on her and paused. It sat—engine idling, body humming—but no one emerged. The windows stayed closed.

“Fine. If you won’t reveal yourself”—she stepped toward the car—“we’ll do it this way.” She was beside the driver’s door. Letting her fears and angers out on someone stupid enough to cross a daughter of the Hunt seemed pretty tempting, but she gave one more warning. “You really shouldn’t try me.”

The car didn’t back up; the driver didn’t get out or turn off the engine.

Ani grabbed the door handle—and froze. The material under her hand wasn’t mere metal. She looked inside the now-transparent windows.
Empty.
The car in front of her wasn’t faery-made. It was something far rarer, something out of children’s tales that she’d long since stopped believing in.

A riderless steed.

Under her hand the car pulsed, like a purr. It vibrated through her body.

“Mine?” she asked.

Each other’s.
The words came unbidden into her mind.

It had a voice that she heard. Unlike when she rode another’s steed, hers was in her mind, a part of her.

Of course, I am.
The voice was genderless.
I am yours. You will not ride any other now.

“Never again. Just you.” She stroked the long sleek lines of the hood. It was everything a classic should be: power and beauty, strong lines and a great engine.

It shifted under her hand, becoming a black Ducati Monster with chrome-spoked rims.

“Daaamn.” Ani felt it laughing as she all but drooled on motorcycle.

Then it was a horse, a skeletal steed capable of trampling every creature in their path. It lifted and lowered one leg, cracking the already-broken asphalt under a steel-sharp hoof. Like the most perfect Dark Court denizens, it was beautiful in its horror. “You’re gorgeous.”

And lethal, Ani.

“Yeah. That’s what I said. Lethal
is
gorgeous.” She stroked its neck. After the terror of facing Bananach, there was little that could ease her anxiety. This could. This did.

You needed me.

“I did,” she whispered.

I felt your need to
run
and so I’m here.
It closed its eyes and rested its head against her shoulder.
We can go from here.

It had selected her, chosen her. She had her own steed, not Chela’s, but her own. Halflings didn’t have steeds;
unclaimed steeds didn’t roam in the mortal realm. Yet, it was here.

Come, Ani.
The steed became a car again. It opened a door.
Ride with me. Away from here.

Ani slid into the driver’s seat. The engine turned over with a satisfying growl
.

“Oh.” She breathed the word, and the car tore out of the alley with speed that made her heart race.

Take the wheel. I trust you,
it assured her.

“Take it back if I fail you.” She’d driven an actual car a couple of times, but not enough to be certain she could handle it.

Always. I’ll keep you safe, Ani. Always. You’re mine now.

“And you…” She couldn’t say the sentence.

So her steed did.
I am yours. Always.

After a few dizzying hours, Ani directed her steed into an alley near the tattoo shop. The riding had helped her settle her emotions, given her space to calm down, but Bananach’s demands weren’t something she could make sense of on her own. She couldn’t kill her king, even if she wanted to. She had no desire to give Bananach her strength or her blood. And, despite her dislike of Seth, she wasn’t sure she could kill him.

Would one of the three acts be enough to appease War?

Ani didn’t know, but what she was certain of was that Niall, her king, would not be forgiving of Seth’s murder.
But if he didn’t know…
The possibilities were there. Ignoring
Bananach wasn’t a viable plan; she was crazy, dangerous, and powerful.

Could I kill Seth?

He didn’t really belong in the Dark Court. If he mattered to Irial, it would be different. On the other hand, he
was
of the High Court and loved by the Summer Queen. Angering them wasn’t a great idea.

Neither is angering Bananach.

The engine stilled, and Ani slipped out of the driver’s seat of the Barracuda and gently closed the door. It was a beautiful beast, but it was safe in the alley. The biggest risk was that it would eat some foolish mortal who tried to strip it or leaned on it, but the steed seemed tired enough that she didn’t really expect any blood on the grill when she returned.

She leaned down to the hood of car and whispered, “Be back soon.”

Its engine rumbled briefly, and then the interior lights shut off.

Ani walked up the sidewalk to Pins and Needles. She paused there. Once she crossed the threshold, there’d be questions. If she answered, there would be a lecture. Her brother hadn’t survived on the borderland between Dark Court and mortals without a spine of steel. He’d taught her what she needed to survive—and not flinched at the inhumanity in her or at the mortal sweetness in Tish. Somehow, he’d loved them both, despite their differences.

“You going to come in?” Rabbit stood on the other side of the front window. His goatee was a braid in black and a garish shade of orange. The bone plugs she’d carved for him after one of her first hunts were in his ears. His clothes were his standard thrift-store fare: dark trousers and a mechanic’s button-up falsely proclaiming him an employee of Joe’s Stop and Go.

Home.

She put her palms on the glass pane of the door, covering the hours he was supposedly open for business.

Rabbit watched her with his usual taciturn expression. He’d ask her too many questions later, but just then, he saw what she didn’t admit: she was afraid. Her brother had been the one to croon comforting words when she came home sobbing or raging; he’d taught her to cope with a world that confused her. He’d helped her come to the realization that the things that set her apart were strengths as much as weaknesses.

She opened the shop door and went into his arms.

He held her as carefully as he had when she was a little girl, and they’d thought she might turn out to be more mortal than not.

Like Tish did.

“Want to tell me what’s wrong?”

“Maybe.” She stepped away and wandered over to the red vinyl chair in the far corner.

Rabbit flipped the sign on the door to closed and threw the bolt. “Well?”

“I saw Bananach.” She picked at a loose thread caught under a piece of black electrical tape Rabbit had used in lieu of stitching one of the rips in the chair. “She wants some things from me.”

“She’s trouble.” Rabbit pulled down the shades so that any passersby wouldn’t see them sitting inside while the sign was turned.

“Aren’t
we
trouble, Rabbit?” Ani looked up at him. He looked like trouble; stereotype or not, her family looked like the sort who’d be fine bending or breaking a few rules. They
had
broken both mortal laws and faery traditions
.
He’d hidden them from the brute that killed Jillian, the High Court, and most of the Dark Court. He’d stolen mortals’ wills and freedom when he’d bound them to the Dark Court in ink exchanges.

“There’s trouble, and then there’s
her
.” Rabbit sat down cross-legged on the immaculate floor of the tattoo shop. Even out here in the waiting room, he kept it as clean as he possibly could. When she was a child, she’d built Lego cars and Popsicle-stick towns on that waiting-room floor at night when Rabbit worked.

“She wants me to do some things… and…” Ani folded her hands together and clasped them tightly and then forced herself to meet his gaze. “I don’t want to tell you.”

“We don’t cause trouble just for trouble’s sake. Not real trouble. There needs to be a reason. You get that, Ani, right?” Rabbit scooted over so he was sitting at her feet. “I can’t keep you safe now that you’re in the court. You
exposed what you are, and they won’t let you live among mortals anymore… not for years to come.”

She tilted her head defiantly. “Irial trusts me.”

“So do I,” Rabbit said before glaring at the door. Someone was trying the handle despite the turned sign and closed shutters. He lowered his voice and added, “So think about whatever she asked of you.”

“I just… I’m scared. If I don’t cooperate…” Her words faded as she thought about drawing War’s anger.

“We’ll figure it out. Come on.” Rabbit stood and pulled her to her feet. “We can talk over dinner. I’ll make dessert.”

He draped an arm over her shoulder.

“Opening ice cream doesn’t count.” Ani tried to lighten her voice. It was what Rabbit did when there was stress: gave her space to relax while he teased out what was upsetting her. She took a steadying breath and added, “I want something you
make
.”

“Deal.” He opened the door to the private part of the shop, where they’d lived for most of her life. “I’ll call Irial.”

Ani stumbled a little. She didn’t want to tell Irial she’d seen Bananach.
Which is why Rabbit’s calling him. Taking care of me.
Her brother had always done what he could to keep her safe. That hadn’t changed. His ability to do as much might’ve changed, but the desire to do all he could was still the same.

“I’ll tell him, Rab.” She stepped in front of him. “You don’t need to get involved.”

Rabbit looked older than he usually seemed. “If she
wants you in her plans, Irial needs to know. The new king needs to know… and you, Miss Impulsivity, need someone stronger than me to be by your side. You call, or I do.”

She leaned on the wall, took out her cell, and pressed 6. The phone rang only a few times before Irial answered.

“Hey. Long time no chat.” The nervousness in her voice was enough to let him know that it wasn’t a social call.

“Where are you?”

“Home.” She closed her eyes so she couldn’t see the worry on her brother’s face.

“Do I need to tell Gabe anything?” Irial asked.

“Not yet.” She heard Rabbit walk away; his footsteps were solid thuds on the floor. She didn’t open her eyes though; instead, she waited for the beep of the oven being preheated, the water as he washed his undoubtedly already-clean hands, and the cupboards opening and closing. Finally, she said, “I need to talk to you. There’s a… problem, I guess. Situation? I don’t know. I need help.”

“Stay at home. I’m coming.” Irial didn’t hang up the phone. He kept the line open, a lifeline she didn’t want to need, to talk while he headed her way. “Did someone hurt you?”

“I’m okay.” She sat down on the floor, her back to the wall as the fear she’d resisted started to overwhelm her. “I’m cooking dinner.”

“I’ll help.”

She smiled. “I’m not making something fancy like you would.”

“Did you
hurt
someone?” he asked.

“No.”

“Then it’ll be okay.” Irial’s voice was the voice that she remembered from her childhood terrors. He was her savior, the one who’d brought her and Tish to safety, the one who made sure they were hidden away from the cruelty of the High Court and whoever killed Jillian. “
You’ll
be okay.”

“I’m not sure this time.” Ani stood up and went to the kitchen. Rabbit kissed her forehead as she paused beside him at their tiny kitchen counter. “Bananach wants me.”

When Tish walked into the kitchen, she squealed as if it had been weeks since they’d seen each other.

“There’s a sound I don’t miss.” Rabbit covered his ear and gave a mock wince. “I’m lucky I’m not deaf by now.”

Ani tossed her phone to Rabbit. “Talk to Iri. I’m going to catch up with Tish.”

“Stay in the house!” Rabbit yelled as they took off toward their room.

No.

Ani wished she could tell Rabbit everything, but the more she’d thought, the more she realized that this was too serious. She’d come running home, potentially endangering them. Leaving for a while was the best bet.
Especially now that I have the means to go.
Fleetingly, Ani wondered if that was part of why the steed had come to her. She needed to get away to where her presence wouldn’t endanger her family.

“I love you.” Ani hugged her sister. “More than anyone or anything. You know that?”

“You too.” Tish frowned. “So… what did you do now?”

“Nothing yet.” Ani flicked the stereo on, and the speakers immediately thumped to life. The bass was heavy, and the weight of it pushed on her skin.

Home.

She knew that Rabbit realized that the music was to keep him from hearing their words. Her brother might not be as much of a Hound as she was, but he had exceptionally keen hearing. She seemed to have gotten almost all of their father’s traits. Rabbit had some—longevity, strength, hearing—and Tish… Tish had “Hound-light” qualities. That’s what they’d called it growing up: a little stronger, a little faster, a little bit too interested in trouble.

They sat down on Tish’s bed. Ani’s bed was still there, unmade from the last visit, and looking like the haven she needed. She couldn’t stay though, not here, not where her mostly mortal sister was.

“What’s going on?” Tish crossed her legs and waited.

“I’m in a sort of situation,” Ani started.

As quickly as she could, she explained everything about Bananach. Then she said, “Tell them. Tell Rab and Iri
everything.
”

“Ani?” Tish reached for her hand, but Ani was on her feet and backing up.

“I can’t stay.” Ani turned up the stereo. “If she comes after me—”

“No. You can’t
go
,” Tish whispered. “If she’s watching for you… Come on, Ani. Just do that focus thing. That helps.”

Ani glanced at the closed door. “If she comes, she’ll hurt you and Rabbit. I shouldn’t have come here. I need to go away from everyone before she does. It’s safer and—”

“
Iri
knows now. He’ll fix it. We can all go live with him.” Tish stood and took Ani’s hands and held on to her like she had when they were little and Ani was freaking out. “Come on. Just stay here.”

“I can’t, Tish. You stay with Iri, okay? Stay with Rabbit. Stay with Gabr—
Dad.
” Ani felt like something prickly was swarming inside her skin. She needed to run. The thought of staying, of not getting away, made her feel like she was choking. Irial would keep Tish and Rabbit beside him; they’d be safer without her around. She couldn’t stay trapped in the house or put them in danger.

“I need to get out for a while,” she said.

“And go
where
?” Tish still held on to one of Ani’s hands.

“I don’t know yet.” Ani pulled free of her sister’s hold and opened their closet. Grabbing a duffle, she started shoving a few clothes into it.

Silently, Tish helped, giving permission by her actions if not by her words. Tish held out a brush. Tears were in her eyes. “Be careful, NiNi.”

Ani hugged her, barely resisting tears at the sound of the pet name. “I’ll call.”

“Rab has your phone.” Tish reached into her pocket and pulled out her glaringly pink phone. “Take it. I’ll get yours when he’s done talking to Iri.”

Silently, Ani slipped Tish’s phone into her front pocket. They’d switched often enough that they kept each other’s contacts in both phones. “What about Glenn? I don’t have his number in my phone.”

Tish grinned. “I guess I need to go to the club then.”

“No!” Ani shuddered at the thought of her sister out alone. She pulled the phone out and flipped through the contacts. “Copy it down. He can meet you at the shop. No going anywhere alone unless Iri clears it. Okay?”

Tish wrote down the number on her hand and then she slid open the top drawer of the nightstand between their beds. Nestled under the various bras and stockings was a
sgian dubh
that matched the one already on Ani’s ankle
.

Tish held out the black-handled knife and a black leg holster. “Take my lucky one.”

“Are you sure?” Ani patted her other leg. “I already have the prickler.”

“Take mine too. A girl can never be too careful… or too armed,” Tish quipped.

“True.” Ani lifted her pants leg and fastened the holster. She might be Dark Court enough to like carrying a traditional blade, but she wasn’t a fan of shoving it into her
stocking or boot. Tradition was important, but adapting was good too.

Ani slid the knife into the holster.

Tish opened the closet. “Holy irons?”

When they were in elementary school, Irial had taken them on a series of field trips to different houses of worship. At each place, a man or woman said prayer words over a handful of blades. By the end, the girls had a box of sharp things blessed by representatives of a number of the dominant mortal faiths. Like many of the gifts Irial had given them, the “holy irons” were practical presents.
One never knows,
Irial had said,
and we aren’t the only things that go bump in the night.
Ani hated carrying the blessed steel because it was a deterrent to many faeries she’d like to get closer to, but she wasn’t going to take chances.
Not now.

She shucked off her shirt, slipped on a vertical shoulder holster, adjusted it, and then slipped one of the remaining blessed blades—an eight-inch partially serrated tanto blade—into the sheath that now rested on her side.

“Hold still.” Tish straightened the holster straps. “Take it all. I’ll get Iri to restock for us.”

Ani nodded. Then she grabbed a punch knife, iron filings compressed in a pepper-spray-style container, and a spring billy. She shoved them all into her bag with her clothes. No amount of weapons would give her the strength to overcome Bananach, but overaccessorizing wasn’t a bad idea when planning a road trip.
And Bananach isn’t the only trouble out there.
The thought of hostile solitaries, of Ly
Ergs, of being alone without the Dark Court’s protection made Ani pause—but the thought of endangering her family by remaining in town outweighed any hesitation. She grabbed a bang stick.

Tish absently folded and unfolded her hands. Her nerves were getting more unsettled, but she didn’t want to add to Ani’s stress. She never did. Her emotions said everything her words didn’t. She was afraid—but so was Ani.

And neither of us need to talk about that.

The smile Tish offered was proof that she understood the impossibility of discussing those truths. Even more telling were her words: “Dad’s going to be furious once he catches you.”

“Who says he’ll catch me? He’s not the only one with a steed now.” The thought of Gabriel hearing about her steed was all that made her happy just then.
He’ll be proud.
She turned her back and, softly, whispered, “Love you.”

Tish grabbed her and held on as tightly as she could. “Be careful. Please?”

“You too.” Ani held her sister just as fiercely.

Tish squeezed her harder, and then stepped back.

Together, they popped the lock and hefted the window.

With her bag slung over her shoulder, Ani climbed out and to the street. Tish dropped the bang stick to her and then closed the window carefully. The curtains fell over the window, and Tish was gone.

Ani was halfway down the block within a breath of her feet touching the sidewalk.
This is for the best.
She knew
that—especially as she wasn’t a block from the shop before she was being followed again.

Without changing her stride, she headed toward a side street that would put her near where the Barracuda was parked. Calmly, she made her way toward the steed.

Can you hear me?
She thought of the car, imagined the thrill of driving with it, and the warmth of its hood when she’d walked away.
Are you awake?

Yes, but this would be easier if I had a name, Ani.
Its voice had the same vibrating hum as its engine did.
I thought on it. I lack a name. Being a Steed With A Rider means I get a name.
It rumbled the words inside her mind.
It is important to be Named.

Okay, but right now? Not the best time,
she thought back.

Soon,
it said.

She dropped her duffle, reached down, and slid a
sgian dubh
from its ankle holster. Then she turned around so she was facing her pursuer—and faltered. The faery from the Crow’s Nest who’d kissed her and tasted her blood stood in the street.

“It’s
you
,” she said.

“It is.”

You should not speak to this one, Ani,
her steed rumbled. Ani felt it ease up behind her. Right now, it was a Hummer, oversized and bulky, looking like far more steel than most any faery could stand. Being a creature not a machine, there was no actual metal, but the illusion was convincing. It should be frightening.

Pretty Boy in front of her wasn’t shying away though.

She didn’t move any closer. “I thought you left.”

“I did.” He watched her with the same unflinching stare as at the club.

She shivered. Part of her wanted to ask if he’d tracked her, but another part of her preferred not knowing. “Do you know who I am?”

He gave her a thorough looking-over. “The faery from the club… or should I know something else about you?”

She straightened her shoulders and stared at him. It certainly wasn’t a hardship to do so. “You were following me.”

“Yes. Are you going to run?”

“Should I?”

“No.” He walked past her, turning into a narrower alley that was heavy with shadows. “You should come with me.”

She hoped that he’d followed because of their kiss, but she wasn’t a fool. Everyone wanted to curry favor with Gabriel, or Irial, or Niall: he was likely here because of politics.

Or because of Bananach.

“Did… War send you here?” she asked, rather than following him.

He paused and glanced back. “No one sent me. I am here for my own interests.”

She shivered. “Interest in what?”

“You,” the faery said, his voice a whisper from within the shadows.

Ani stepped into the mouth of the alley.

He’s not prey,
her steed muttered.

Just a little fun, a little nourishment before we leave,
Ani told her steed
. I won’t kill him… unless I need to.

The temptation to not tell the faery who she was warred with her inherent sense of good sportsmanship.

“I’m not solitary,” she hedged.

He held his body with such easy grace—no tension, but awareness of her every move. She’d watched his reactions as she stepped closer. He tracked her like one accustomed to fighting.

“I know that.” He almost smiled; one corner of his mouth quirked up. It wasn’t Dark Court cruel, High Court bland, or Summer Court sweet.

“Are you Winter Court?” she asked. Her hand was behind her, holding her knife.

“No. The cold doesn’t suit me.” He did smile then. If he wasn’t sin-pretty before then, the look on his face as she walked closer made him near irresistible.

She watched his eyes; storm-dark clouds were hidden there, but they weren’t warm. “You’re not Summer,” she said.

“Neither are you.”

If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was Dark Court, but power like his didn’t hide in the crowd, and between Irial and Gabriel, she’d had plenty of education on her own court’s powers. “And you look like too much fun to be High Court.”

“Indeed.” His eyes told her what his words weren’t admitting: he was dangerous. Every instinct she had whispered
that he was formed of the same sort of shadows Irial was. He should be in her king’s court.

I can’t fit in the alley in this form, Ani.
Her steed’s voice was a muffled warning as she walked toward the faery.

“What are you?
Gancanagh?
Water fey? Help me out here. Solitary, but with enough juice to stroll through this place.” She moved her other hand closer to the knife on her side.
Not that it will help much.
If she was right about how strong he was—and he must be to walk in Huntsdale so carelessly confident—she wasn’t strong enough to take him. She held his gaze. “Who are you?”

“Devlin. Sorcha’s order keeper, but—”

“Fuck.” She stepped backward. “I’m not going to
her
world. I belong to Ir—to
Niall
’s Dark Court. I am protected. You can’t take me.”

Panic rose inside of her like a riot of winged things struggling to escape too-small spaces. She retreated farther, scurrying backward until a gust of sulfuric breath warmed her back. Her steed had transformed again.

I
told
you,
her steed grumbled.

She glanced behind her. It wasn’t a horse, but a reptilian thing that stood where the Hummer had been. Green scales covered a massive body. Claws the length of her forearm dug into the ground beside her. Feathered wings folded tightly together on her steed’s back so as not to brush the buildings on either side of the alley. It parted its jaws to flick a thin black tongue.

The massive head lowered and for an instant she thought it was going to swallow her.

Don’t be foolish. I wouldn’t eat you—
it paused, leaving a strange quiet in her mind that told her that it was still mid- thought—
no, not even if I were starving. Curious. I’ve never had a rider until you…. I might save you before me. Huh. That’s—

“Can we talk about that later?” She looked into one enormous, swirling eye.