The Faerie Ring (32 page)

In the distance, huge stones stood upright, dotting the rolling hills, and she could see several large, grass-covered mounds. To her left, a single large hawthorn tree stood in a meadow, its limbs outstretched toward the sky like giant arms.

Larkin straightened up and lifted her hem to wipe her bleeding nose, keeping a safe distance between herself and Tiki. “Why did you bring us here?”

“Me?” Tiki couldn’t hide her surprise. She glanced around. The ragged silhouette of a line of trees meandered away from her toward the horizon. A few lights twinkled here and there, as if fireflies were just beginning to blink with the onset of darkness. One small part of the sky was still painted with the fading orange glow of sunset. In the distance, the eerie, piercingly sweet notes of a flute floated on the air, pulling at her. “Where are we?”

Larkin’s voice dripped with malice. “We’re in the Otherworld, of course.”

Tiki’s stomach clenched at the girl’s words. Her eyes scanned the area, taking in her surroundings with disbelief. The air was warm and scented of wet dirt and fresh-mown grass, as if the skies had just poured rain and released the perfume of nature.

Tiki blinked. Had they really crossed over to the world of Faerie? She remembered the burning sensation from her birthmark when Larkin had grabbed her. Could her mark have something to do with it?

The faerie’s blue green eyes snapped with anger. Larkin shifted her stance, her blond hair swinging with her movement, poised to spring. Her words were low and rushed. “Will you continue to pretend you don’t know who you are?”

“I … I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Tiki’s eyes darted from the upright stones scattered about the field to the mounds and on to the trees in the distance.

“To whose court do you place your allegiance?” Larkin whispered. Her lips twisted in a bitter line. “Do you work for Donegal?”

“I don’t have a court.” Tiki took a deep breath. “Who is it that you think I am?” Her heart drummed in her chest, a strange anticipation filling her.

A flicker of surprise crossed Larkin’s face before it was replaced with a calculating look. One corner of her mouth lifted in a sneer. “You pretend not to know of
an fáinne sí
. What game do you play? You must have learned something over the years. Adasara must have told someone.”

For a moment, Tiki had a vision of forcing the information from Larkin with the point of the knife pushed tight to her throat. “I don’t know what that means.” She clenched her teeth together. “Tell me.”

“
An fáinne sí
is a birthmark of Finn MacLochlan, a high king of Tara,” Larkin said. “That mark on your arm practically makes you royalty.”

For a moment, Tiki stopped breathing. Larkin had said her name. “A high king of
what
?” she whispered.

“Of Tara.” Larkin spat the word out as she took a step closer, her face twisted with jealousy. “The ancient Irish faerie court. Where the deities of the Tuatha de Danann joined the Sidhe.” She gave Tiki a derisive look. “Except MacLochlan was a renegade, so you’d be royalty in a court that no one recognizes.”

“You’re lying.” Tiki’s voice was low, disbelieving.

Larkin laughed, and a mirthless smile twisted her lips. “That’s why Adasara hid you in London—”

“Stop it.” Tiki cut her off. She didn’t want to hear another word. “You’re wrong. I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t want to know.” Her voice grew in volume with her frustration. “I just want to go home and never see another faerie again as long as I live.” She ended in a shout. “Where is Clara?”

“Shhh,” Larkin hissed. She held out her hand as if to physically stop Tiki from shouting. Her head swiveled, as though she expected the noise to have drawn attention in the empty field, before her eyes latched on Tiki again with a deadly glare. “If you didn’t bring us here, then somehow you made
me
bring us over, which means I’m the only way you’re going to get back.

“If you keep shouting, we’ll both be captured and rot the rest of our days away in Donegal’s prison. You’ll never see your precious Clara again.” Her lips quivered with emotion. “Trust me when I say he would pay a high price to capture someone like you.”

Tiki looked around, her heart pounding. There was a strange sense of familiarity to the meadow in which she stood.

No, there wasn’t. There couldn’t be.

She jabbed her knife toward Larkin, forcing her to take a step back.

“How do we get out of here?” Tiki said. “Just take me back and give me Clara, then you can run and hide from Donegal or whoever it is that’s after you.”

Larkin’s words were cold. “You’ve forgotten the ring.”

“You can have the bloody thing,” Tiki yelled. At her shout, shadows shifted in the twilight around them, and a sudden unnerving sense of being watched filled her. “You can have it when you give me Clara. How do we get back?”

“You’re not leaving so soon?” A deep, familiar voice cut through the night air. A shadow shifted sideways and Marcus stood before them, clad in skintight brown trousers the color of bark. This time Tiki could clearly see the wings on his back, fragile pieces of glass spiderwebbed with black lines. Their slow flutter refracted the moonlight in a mesmerizing rhythm.

Tiki clenched the dagger tighter in her hand and pointed the blade at this new threat. “Stay away from me.”

Marcus’s gaze shifted from Tiki to Larkin, and his black eyes gleamed in the half-light.

“Larkin dear, we’ve been looking everywhere for you. I’m surprised you’d take the risk to be seen here.”

“Shut up,” Larkin snapped.

Marcus raised his eyebrows. “You must know that Donegal has quite a price on your head.” He spoke in an overly sympathetic tone that made Tiki’s skin crawl. “But of course, being the rebel that you are, you’ve always loved to walk on the wild side, haven’t you?” He took a step closer. “Or maybe you enjoy pain and humiliation?”

Larkin snarled at him, her teeth suddenly sharper. “Stop talking, Marcus.”

He shifted toward them. “Jamison has a claw inscribed with your name on it.” He grinned at Larkin with ill-disguised malevolence as he feigned a shiver of horror. “Though I can’t even
imagine
what it would be like to have your wings clamped in one of those barbaric things. It makes me sick to even think about that much iron being so close to me.” He leaned forward and peered at her. “And whatever happened to your face? Is that blood?”

“How did you know we were here?” Larkin asked.

“Actually, I followed the two of you.” He turned to Tiki. “I’ve been keeping a close eye on this one.” He licked his lips. “Waiting for my chance.”

Tiki shuddered as she looked from one to the other. It was her worst nightmare come to life. Larkin and Marcus, together. But this had a twist even she couldn’t imagine, that she would be trapped with them in a place from which she didn’t know how to escape.

“I’m sure no one will miss her in London except maybe Richmond,” Marcus continued. “But if Donegal has his way, Richmond will be dead soon enough, anyway.” The black-haired faerie made an O with his mouth and covered his lips with his fingers. “I forgot you’re in love with him, aren’t you?” His mouth twisted in a disgusted grimace. “A mortal, though. Really, Larkin, it’s so revolting, what are you thinking?” He gave an eloquent shrug. “Donegal will never forgive you for this.”

Larkin smiled at Marcus. “I’m afraid you’re right about that. Though I’m not going to wait around for Jamison to catch me.” She nodded at Tiki. “You wouldn’t mind taking care of her for me?”

“No!” Tiki shouted. “You’re not going to leave me with him. Take me back.” Desperation clawed at her insides. She looked around, but there was no place to even run and try to hide.

“Stop shouting,” Larkin growled. She took another step closer to Tiki. At the same moment Marcus moved forward, too, leering, his façade of pleasantness gone.

Larkin grabbed Tiki by the wrist. A burning sensation ran up Tiki’s arm. The shadows surrounding them deepened and a strange sensation tugged at Tiki, as though her breath had frozen in her lungs. Marcus dove at her, his face alarmingly close, his clawlike hands reaching for her as he shimmered out of view.

Chapter Thirty-seven

I
N
that same heartbeat, they were back in Rieker’s room. Tiki collapsed against the wood floor, her wrist still burning from Larkin’s grasp. Before she could move, Larkin wrapped her hands around her neck, choking her. Tiki tried to defend herself, but Larkin threw her across the room as though she were weightless. Her head hit the wall with a resounding
thud,
and she slumped, semiconscious, in the corner between the side table and the four-poster bed.

Rieker stood on the far side of the bed, near the alcove windows. At their return, he sprang forward and faced Larkin, a long slim silver blade held in his hand.

“Don’t do this, Larkin,” he said. “This is not what we talked about. Give Tiki the girl.”

Larkin spun toward Rieker. “There’s no time, Wills. Marcus is right behind me. Give me the ring,
now
.”

“I told you, I don’t have it,” Rieker said.

Tiki shook her head, trying to clear the starbursts that kept exploding in front of her eyes. She blinked hard, trying to focus. The shadows in the opposite corner of the room shifted and moved to become solid.

Marcus hadn’t bothered to assume his glamour when he’d crossed over. Instead his muscular chest was bare and the light winked off the iridescent finish of his wings. He snarled at Larkin, anxious to draw blood, but he hesitated when he spotted the knife in Rieker’s hand. His eyes latched on Tiki in the corner, then shifted back to Larkin.

“Leave, Marcus,” Larkin said in a low, threatening voice. “This is none of your concern.”

“Ah, but I think it is.” His black eyes glinted with an evil pleasure, shifting from her to Rieker. “All this time I thought Richmond had something to do with the ring’s disappearance, but now I’m not so sure. You both seem to be a bit too interested in her.” He motioned to Tiki. “A pickpocket.” He smiled, revealing his sharp teeth. “Why is that? I’m starting to suspect that
she’s
the key to finding the ring.” He licked his lips. “And I know just the persuasion to get her to loosen up and talk.”

Rieker took a step toward him, his knife held loosely in his hand. “Don’t make me use this, Marcus,” he warned in a low voice. “You need to leave. Now.”

Marcus’s nostrils flared as if picking up the scent of his prey. “Not yet.”

At that moment two faeries shimmered into view, one with long silver hair, the other with long white hair. They wore glittering tunics over the same tight, barklike trousers that Marcus wore.

“You were heard when the two of you were in the valley,” Marcus said to Larkin, making no attempt to hide his pleasure. “Seize her!” he yelled.

The silver-haired faerie surveyed the room, a metal device held in his hands. He went rigid when he spotted Larkin. His eyes locked on her, then at once the two newcomers leapt at her. At the same time Marcus lunged toward Tiki, and Rieker dove to intercept him.

With a cry of rage, Larkin defended herself against the two men, her teeth snapping, her fingernails arched into claws. In a semicoherent daze, Tiki struggled to make sense of the madness in front of her. Larkin seemed to flutter in the air as she tried to escape the attack of the two strangers, her cries of rage ripping through the room.

Tiki concentrated on Rieker’s tall form as he grappled with Marcus. He seemed to welcome the attack, doing battle with Marcus, but the faerie’s claws ripped at his flesh, tearing through his clothes, peeling back skin. Blood sprang from numerous wounds on his arms and legs.

Tiki struggled to right herself, but her limbs were sluggish and wouldn’t obey her commands. There was something she was trying to remember, but it slipped away just out of reach like an elusive dream.

On the other side of the room, Larkin fought with the two men. She snarled and snapped like a wild animal, trying to tear at them with her hands and teeth. The silver-haired man was trying to hold her arms behind her back, while the other was trying to clip what looked like a metal clamp onto the faint outline of her wings.

Faerie blood, a thick, iridescent green liquid, had spilled on the floor, making it slippery. The scent of thyme was overwhelming. Suddenly Rieker let out a guttural cry as Marcus slammed Rieker’s wrist into the dresser, knocking his blade away.

Tiki watched the silver dagger skitter across the floor, light reflecting helter-skelter off the moving blade. She needed to remember something. She pushed herself to her feet, her hands clenched as she took a wobbly step forward. She needed to help Rieker.

“What in bloody hell?” A shocked voice penetrated the melee within the room.

Rieker jerked his head toward Leo’s familiar voice.

Out of the corner of her eye, Tiki saw Marcus make his move toward Rieker. Glistening fangs, as sharp as any blade, were exposed in his evil snarl, and in that split second she remembered.

Her dagger was still clutched in her hand.

She reacted on pure instinct. She leapt forward in front of Rieker, swinging the dagger with the momentum of her movement. The blade sank into the center of Marcus’s bare chest all the way up to the hilt with frightening ease. A breath of air crossed the back of her hand as it gripped the knife, and she wasn’t sure if it came from the faerie’s lips or the hole in his chest.

Marcus’s features twisted in agony, and his startled eyes found hers.

“Iron?” he gasped in disbelief through teeth clenched in pain. Tiki released the knife and jerked back, but she wasn’t fast enough to avoid contact with his hands as he tried to pull the blade free.

Rieker yanked her away from Marcus’s crumpling body, then dove for his own blade. With a lightning fast move, he swept the blade to the faerie’s throat, but it wasn’t necessary. Marcus’s eyes rolled back in his head, and with a last gurgling sigh, he was still.