The Cold Kiss of Death

heart.

Which explains why so many of London’s faelings—humans with lesser fae blood—end up victims of the fang-gangs in Sucker Town through no true fault of their own.

Of course, no one likes to air their dirty laundry in public, so the accepted reason for the sidhe not visiting London when they were known for putting in appearances elsewhere was that they preferred to live in the Fair Lands rather than have to deal with the hustle and technology of the capital city.

‘Maybe one of the gates from the Fair Lands has been opened?’ I said, resting my chin on my knees. ‘If so, then another sidhe could’ve come through ...’ I trailed off and watched Tavish and the water in front of him from under my lashes. I built a small ridge of sand in front of me with my toes.

He snorted again, and waves crested far out in the dark sea. ‘There’s nae one o’ us could open our gates wi’out the others knowing.’

I’d been hoping for a more informative answer than that, like whether the gates had actually been opened, but Tavish was wylde fae, and the wylde fae can be tricky. They can talk around things when they want, sometimes for no other reason than a bit of mischief.

I tried another tack. ‘What if it was a sidhe who opened one of the gates? Would you know then?’

‘There’s naebody like the fae when it comes tae carrying ill will.’ His smile had a hard edge to it. ‘And lately the Ladies Meriel and Isabella have been refusing even tae treaty wi’ the queen’s ambassador.’ He lowered his head, the silver beads tinkling as his dreads fell forward, and blew ripples across the overflowing pool in front of him. ‘Should another sidhe take it intae their minds to visit, they’d find nae entry through. The gates are sealed from this side now.’

Damn: so the gates were a dead end. Still, the CCTV footage had to be worth a look. Warm water slipped past my little ridge and over my toes, swilling sugary sand about my feet. ‘Can I watch the recording then?’ I asked, inching back. ‘I might be able to see something.’

‘’Course y’can, doll.’ He smiled and slipped back beneath the water’s surface. ‘Come for a swim wi’ me first.’ He whispered the words in my mind.

I pushed myself to my feet, moving as slowly as I dared, feeling the pull of his magic. ‘Swimming with you isn’t a good idea, Tavish.’ The water swirled around my ankles, soaking my jeans. I looked towards the tent, knowing I should walk out onto dry land, but the water wanted me to stay, and there was something wistful in the way it crept like a curious fish around my knees. I gazed down at Tavish, floating under the water, a trail of turquoise and aqua bubbles rising from his gills. Fascinated, I watched as they flashed like shooting stars over the dark surface of the sea.

‘Come intae the depths wi’ me, my lady.’ His eyes were glowing silver orbs. ‘Death clings tae your heart.’ His voice turned soft, cajoling. ‘Let me hold you close, sing tae you o’ the everlasting rhythms of the sea, let me taste o’ the darkness that stains your soul, steal those sweet breaths as they leave your soft lips.’ He reared out of the water, glorious and naked, his muscles lean and firm under the shining wetness of his green-black skin. ‘There is kindness in the depths, and peace.’ He offered me his hand and his pledge: a pledge to lift the sorrow that fell about my shoulders, to pull away the heavy cloak of self-blame and grief and despair for those that I’d hurt, for those I’d lost ... for those I’d killed. He tossed his head, the magic cascading over him in rainbow hues that glittered and sparkled in the brightness of the sun.

And he took his other shape.

My pulse sped with wary excitement. He was still Tavish, but not. In his horse guise his nature ruled him, stripped away his civilised veneer, made him wild and feral and more like the magic itself.

The kelpie horse whickered softly, nostrils flaring, and stepped closer. He butted his nose against my chest, his whisky-peat breath warm against my T-shirt. I stroked the softness of his muzzle, his chin whiskers tickling along my arm, and reached up to trail gentle fingers over the black-lace gills that fluttered under my touch.

‘You’re beautiful,’ I whispered, the water sliding around my thighs. ‘Beautiful and beguiling—but you know that already.’ He whinnied, mocking, derisive, his two-toed hoof pawing a groove in the sand. I ran my palm down his sea-slick neck and moved to rest my hand on his forequarters. ‘It’s tempting, to think of riding into the sea with you, to give you what I feel, to let you take that from me ...’

His head swung round, ears pricking expectantly forward, tail flicking impatiently over his sleek, muscled rump. I leant against his side, my heart pounding with anticipation. His magic tugged at me like a strong current, urging me to go with him, to let him take me into the sea’s warm embrace. He nudged my hip and I licked my lips, tasting not salt, but peat and fresh-water sweetness. I tangled my fingers in the knotted dreads of his mane, feeling my own magic rise to join with his, and light more dazzling than the sun misted from my skin, gilding his green- black coat with shimmering golden dust.

I rubbed my cheek against his neck, placed my lips against his warm skin. ‘Yes, I’ll swim with you, kelpie’— his ears twitched back and I started to draw away—‘one day, but that day hasn’t—’

Green lightning arced around us, sizzling into steam as it hit the water. The kelpie horse screamed with rage, rearing up and lunging towards the beach. The turbulent wave that spread out behind him knocked me off my feet and I sank below the dark sea. I kicked out with my legs, reaching for the surface above me. A hand wrapped around my ankle and I kicked, panicked, until it loosened. I burst out into the air above, heart pounding, gasping for breath. The shore was further away than I remembered—time and space and magic conspire to deceive in Between. I started swimming, annoyance and fear fuelling me. Damn kelpie! And stupid me—I knew better than to let myself get seduced with his magic. Now I had to swim for my foolishness. Ahead of me the kelpie cut through the water, a charging water-horse, and galloped out of the crashing waves onto the shore. His angry screams sliced the air. Another flash of green lightning hit the sand next to him and it exploded in a cloud around him, obscuring him from view.

Someone was throwing Stun spells around like they were firecrackers at a troll’s New Moon party.

Panic hit me before I remembered no one could pass Tavish’s entrance without his say-so. He knew whoever it was attacking. And he wouldn’t have let them in if he didn’t think he could deal with them ... I just wished he’d remembered that he’d left me struggling in his rage-lashed sea. Arrogant bastard. I clamped my lips tight together and doggie-paddled towards the shore, doing my best not to drown. Within minutes my arms ached and the jeans were like lead weights around my legs, determined to drag me under. I trod water as I struggled with the zip and finally managed to push the jeans down over my hips—then promptly panicked again as I followed them under into the depths below.

Water choked my throat and burned down my nose as I struggled back up to the surface and then gulped for air like a stranded fish. Then trying to ignore the cramp stabbing into my left thigh, I pushed out again. But hard as I swam, the shore was still too far away, and I realised that something—either the kelpie or the magic—was holding me back. Anger filled me, giving me another burst of energy. No way were they going to keep me out here any longer. As soon as I thought it, the sea became calmer and easier to swim through, and the beach suddenly got a lot, lot closer.

The kelpie’s screams grew louder in my ears, and other, deeper roars of anger and challenge slashed through them. As my hands and knees scraped against the sandy bottom, I lurched to my feet in the shallower water, then stared at the fight before me. The kelpie reared up, still screaming with rage, his forelegs thrashing through the air, then thudding down discordantly into the sand. A heavy-built silhouette of a satyr rose against the brilliant blue of the sky, horns curving sharp above his head, ready to charge. Finn? What the hell was he doing here? An angry wave crashed into me, taking my legs from under me, and I fell back. I scrambled forward out of the water again, struggling to get my breath, until I was beyond the tideline.

Then I watched, my heart in my mouth, as the satyr lunged between the kelpie’s hammering forelegs, thrust up with his horns and gouged a bloody wound across the kelpie’s chest. The kelpie’s hooves struck down on the satyr’s back, knocking him down, but as the kelpie reared up again, the satyr rolled out from under the hooves and came up into a crouch. The kelpie thudded back down onto four legs, his broad chest heaving, sweat and blood combining in a pink froth on the green-black of his coat.

The fight was awe-inspiring and terrifying, and I understood why their ancestors had been worshipped as gods or feared as demons. It was also fucking stupid, all the more so because I suspected they were fighting because of me—and by the looks of them, they weren’t going to stop until one or both were unconscious. Being fae, that could take a long, long time, and I had better ways of spending mine than watching two idiot fae pound each