Shatter - Sins of the Sidhe (35 page)

For now, Adam’s biggest worry was to make sure that the weapon Rowan was given wasn’t going to kill her or curse her when she goes to use it. Many weapons are tricky and must be used with much caution. It was still surreal that she even had the
Beagalltach
, which was also known among the Fae as the “Little Fury.”

No irony was lost there.

Adam wanted to touch the blade, hold it for but a moment, but knew that would be a fools’ move. The blade was made from the Gods’ own fires, and could sing a spell enchanting the person wielding it. If that person gave into the song, they were lost forever – obsessed with only the blade and not caring for anything else. There was only one way to break that type of spell: Death by the blade itself. It has executed many of its own masters over the millennium. The
Beagalltach
was a powerful and dangerous weapon indeed. Anyone who heard the music and gave into its song was deemed too weak to have the right to wield it and would have to die.

Adam hoped like hell Rowan didn’t hear any music.

Walking past the snoozing little tick on the couch, the Sidhe went over to his desk and started rifling through more papers. He’d been up all night trying to discover a way to find and break into Lorcan’s secret realm. It had been done twice, once with Devlin and once with Rowan, but neither of them knew how they accomplished such a feat. Young magic - it’s as unpredictable as the wee ones who use it and is the very reason training and guidance is so necessary.

So far, Adam had little success in finding anything that was helpful. The human world didn’t have a huge selection of magical instruments, and even fewer tools for entering new worlds. He had a mirror of his own that could take him to different Fae Worlds, but he’d hidden it well and it was under lock and key for a reason. He did not want to use it unless there was no other choice. He could ask for help, but Adam dreaded the idea of having to ask for any favors from another Fae. He didn’t want to risk being in their debt.

No, they needed to come up with a way to reach Lorcan on their own. Luring him out would be better because they’d at least be fighting on their own turf. But Lorcan has been hiding for so long, there was no reason for him to come out now. This was not going to be easy.

Lorcan paced back and forth in his bedchambers. He was desperately trying to find some way to get out of here now that he was full Sidhe once more. He longed to feel the wind in his long hair, sun on his skin, and fresh blood on his tongue. The mirror that he used to reach Rowan and other less fortunate only worked in a spiritual realm. He’d have to be in a dream state to walk through it now and his body was too alive for sleep. It had been so long since he had actual feeling in his limbs and body he wasn’t about to give it up so quickly – even if it was for just an hour or two of sleeping.

Pacing and reveling at his marvelous self, he planned his next course of action. He needed to bring Rowan to him, capture, and keep her with him for good. There would be no escaping for her this time. After he punishes Rowan for running off, he’ll make love to her until her body can no longer move, then he’ll claim her himself. Break her if necessary.

Fuck it; he’ll break her if it isn’t necessary.

His precious queen will be the key to collecting a new army for him. Souls will easily flock to her call, and once they do, he’ll twist them all into mindless savage demons that will fight for Lorcan’s crown. Together, Lorcan and his queen will rule in the Faelands.

Lorcan relished the thought. Rowan will make an excellent queen – dark, determined, and powerful was she. The hunger inside his loins for her was almost too much to bear. His shaft ached and throbbed in his leather pants, making them insufferable. He’d keep them on though. The pain and tension it caused him to feel was as excruciating as it was exhilarating. He liked it.

Walking towards the obsidian walls, Lorcan made a slow, deliberate slice in his arm on the jagged rocks and watched a few precious drops of blood fall to the ground. He stayed focused. Calm. Gathering his strength, he walked around the blood staining the floor and spoke old words… dark words… forbidden words… the black hole started as a pinhole, and then grew larger in mid-air.

Lorcan smiled. It had worked. He had to use black magic like this before to get a hole big enough for his shadows to use when he needed humans brought to him in the past. It was not an easy thing to do and his waning energy suffered much for his actions.

Black magic costs triple the payment. This time was no different, as it was a harder effort to make the hole strong enough to let him out. But he didn’t care, he was anxious to get out and the Druid’s blood made him feel invincible.

Lorcan called out for his demons to bring back as many bodies as possible, he’d have to gorge on their blood later to make up for the loss of power he’d just suffered. With a greedy smile, Lorcan stepped one black boot into the hole and then the other and he went into the human world ready to claim the woman who was his.

The air was crisp and cold. Inhaling, he let his lungs fill with the good stuff and let out a scream of triumph. Lorcan’s boots hit solid earth and crunchy leaves and he knew he was unstoppable.

Once he’d stepped out of the large black hole, it shrunk slightly in size. ‘Tis a Fae trick – a survival tactic. Holes like this only grant entry to those who seek it and know that it’s there. It doesn’t show itself to anyone else. It was an age-old trick when the Fae were hiding from the humans who sought to capture them and use their energies for their own selfish gains.

Unfortunately for Lorcan, once he’d crossed the barrier into his realm centuries ago, he’d destroyed the entrance in an attempt to keep enemies at bay. He’d all but locked himself in that day. Recognizing his foolish mistake, Lorcan spent lifetimes chipping away at the darkness, cracking the opening to make it big enough for his demons to slip in and out of. ‘Tis why it’s taken him so fucking long to become whole again. Diminished to a shadow, he didn’t have much to survive on, and was reliant on the energies of others.

If Rowan hadn’t come along that day, offering her blood, her power, he’d still be trapped as a weak and pathetic version of his former self. It had taken him much effort to gain power before she came along. Most of which was done with some type of black magic and each time it was one step forward and three steps back for the Sidhe.

Eventually, Lorcan had used enough of his power to acquire a unique mirror for his limited traveling (even if it was only in the dream state), and for the army that he’s raised- if army is what you’d call them. Most of his demons were screaming, mindless, wrecks. Others were still small, weak, and new. They’re lucky they are already dead… many were so whiney and insufferable he’d like to kill them twice.

Now, after lifetimes of waiting and searching, he was a full Sidhe again, walking amidst the trees on a cold October night. It almost sounded like a fairy tale: Lorcan was now walking the earth, searching for his happily ever after. He laughed at the thought.

His happily ever after will be when he drinks the blood of all the nobles and crushes their skulls to dust. He’ll not settle for one court, he’ll take them all. All the Faeworlds shall be under his command. He will not stop until all the Fae are submissive or dead. He will be a fierce ruler with his dark queen by his side – be it by choice or by chains.

Mmm. The thought of Rowan in chains was a delicious one. She’ll be in them no matter what.

Sliding his glamour into place, Lorcan looked like any Sidhe warrior would look like in this day and age: A gorgeous brawny man, waist length black hair pulled back, nice eyes, leather pants, boots, and sans wings. He looked like sin dripped in sex. Lorcan had to admit, it felt good. He was hungry, a wolf on the hunt for fresh meat.

It took him a few moments to gain his sense of direction. Looking around, Lorcan noticed everything looked different now that he was in a solid form. Colors were brighter and crisper, noises were much louder. He didn’t have far to walk in the woods before he came to a large dirt clearing. There were some odd machines clanking and black smoke puffing from the noisy beasts. They were pushing down trees and killing the land with their large tires and metal-toothed fronts. Lorcan wanted to crush the humans operating those machines. Filth, the lot of them. But he dared not get so close to so much metal. His energies would be best spent elsewhere at the moment.

Pushing past the urge to kill (for now) Lorcan kept walking until he hit a street. Cars zoomed and beeped along beside him as he attempted to walk down the sidewalk. Looking around, the Sidhe was lost but not discouraged. He just needed to find a landmark. Coming to an intersection, he went left and saw a pink house that was used for a small yoga and wellness center. Bingo.

Lorcan’s lips curled into an evil smile – he knew just where he was now. Boots thudding on the pavement, his pace quickened and heart raced. He followed the sidewalk until it dead ended and he made a right. A little further down the road, he crossed two more streets, made a left and there it was: the one-level home he’s watched Rowan go into countless times with its colorful pots adorning the steps, mums past blooming and in need of deadheading. The front windows had large carved pumpkins sitting on the sills; their faces glowing from the candles lit within.

He was at the door, quick as a flash, and his heart raced from the adrenaline pumping through his veins. He’d tracked down his prey, and now came the fun part: the capture.

The front door was locked- not that it mattered. A wave of his hand and the bolts gave way and Lorcan stepped quietly inside. The house surprisingly smelled good to him, like flowers and sunshine. Colorful pictures were hanging on walls, blue carpet plush and bragging fresh vacuum lines. Music was pumping loudly through the kitchen. So loud, his entering the house went unnoticed. Walking slowly towards the music, he stopped for a second to enjoy the view before him.

The blonde bombshell was dancing around the kitchen and singing into a wooden spoon. Hips swinging, long hair and thin build, she was entertaining… and alluring. Full lips mouthing out the words of the song, her eyes were full of mischief. Aye, she was quite a catch. Her zest reminded him of Rowan.

He stepped into the kitchen and he came up behind her, wrapping his arms like a snake around her waist. She twisted around to face him and tried to scream, but he muffled her shrieks with his lips on hers. His shaft pulsing in its tight confines, he had to remember what he was here for. She kicked and fought in his arms, but he only held on tighter, his arms squeezing like two anacondas. The woman was a fighter, and that only turned him on further. He pulsed out a small wave of Sidhe magic, and it was enough to lull the woman to sleep. On an exhale, she sagged in his grasp, eyes fluttering shut, and she was out like a light.

Getting her back to the woods in the daylight would be tricky, but not impossible. Not wanting to attract attention, Lorcan decided he’ll wait until dark, when he can use the cover of night and shadows, to bring her back with him. Laying her limp body on the couch, he had nothing but time to kill. Unfortunately.

Antsy with so much energy running through him, Lorcan decided to explore the woman’s house. Going from room to room, he rummaged through her things. The kitchen was clean and cupboards mostly empty except for some green tea and some bags of pretzels and organic corn chips. Takeout menus were plastered all over her refrigerator along with a calendar that had scribbling all over it. Inside the icy box he found some water bottles, fruit, and half gallon of milk that was almost empty.

Moving on, he went down the hall and into a bedchamber. The room was painted yellow and had a white bed up against the far wall. The quilt was thick and heavy, and there were several smaller throws folded on the end of it. Her closet was packed with clothes and the hangers were so crowded they were practically on top of each other. A lineup of too many shoes was displayed on the floor. Boots, pumps, flats, flip flops, you name it, and she had it. Lorcan walked over to her dresser and opened the drawers one by one: socks, panties, bras, t-shirts, sweaters in that order. He stood up, frustrated at the monotony of it all.

Eyes scanning the top of her well-organized dresser, his heart skipped a beat and a genuine smile stretched across his face. She had a display of framed photos, some must have been family, but there were pictures of the blonde and his beloved queen.

One photo in a wooden frame was of two young girls camping in the woods, arms around each other making goofy faces. Another was in a silver frame, Rowan and the blonde holding up some red drink with an umbrella in them and wearing big brimmed hats and sunglasses. The last picture was in a frame he knew to be one of Rowan’s own creations. Blues, purples and greens swirled together and surrounded a photo of Rowan and the blonde, cheek-to-cheek, smiling on some beach.