I plucked the hourglass from its perch.
Closed my eyes tight.
Waited for the boulder to roll on top of me.
And let out a shaky breath when nothing happened. I mean, no darts shooting from the walls? The ceiling wasn’t slowly shrinking to crush me? No giant swinging axes ready to slice me in two? The whole thing was rather anticlimactic in my opinion.
That is, until I turned around and came face-to-face with Reaver.
The weight of his stare pressed upon me just as well as any shrinking ceiling. And the accusing finger he pointed at me was no less piercing than a poison dart striking my chest. He took a step closer, and the sound of his footsteps rang in my ears like sharp metal cutting me down.
Tyler would be home from his meeting any minute. Fuck, fuck,
“That’s a neat little trick,” I said, backing away from the granite podium, sidestepping Reaver. The glamour he wore for human benefit slid away, and my jaw sagged-just a little-in awe. No wonder all of Fae-kind wore glamours. Any human would be dumbfounded to gaze upon them in their true forms. Though I can only describe him as beautiful, it didn’t detract at all from Reaver’s masculinity. His once-pale skin appeared deeper now, more bronze with a strange, golden luminescence, as if he held sunlight within him. Eyes, larger than they’d been, slanted in an alluring almond shape, and his ice blue irises ran with veins of the same golden light reflected in his skin. Still tall, still lithe, his limbs seemed even more willowy and graceful, but at the same time, his frame was powerful. Strong. And I knew that if he wanted to, Reaver could have broken me without even batting a lash. With the trees, water, and false sky as a backdrop, he looked like an ancient forest god. And, for all I knew, he was.
Somebody was high-and-mighty. I took a step to the side, and then another, putting the rectangular pool between us. He mirrored my actions, taking his place at the opposite side of the water and followed me with matching steps.
“You’re not going to talk me out of this.” Forget the hip boots. I’d been caught in a shit storm of hurricane proportions. Caught in the act and not even denying my role as thief, I was as good as busted. If Reaver decided to turn me in to the PNT Council, I was bent-over-a-barrel-fucked. “I need this thing,” I said, weighing the hourglass in my hand. “I wouldn’t take it if I didn’t think I had no other choice. I’m not a thief-usually. And as for being a murderer…” I was.
He continued to walk, mirroring my movement until we’d reached the end of the pool and the foot of the marble staircase. I can’t say I particularly cared for his threats, not with Tyler already suffering at the hands of malicious magic. “Are you threatening me?”
Wasn’t gonna happen. His big talk was nothing more than an attempt to get me to return his trinket. This broken thing was my ticket to Raif’s daughter. She was the first piece of the puzzle. Through her, I’d be able to link to recent events. And, maybe, solve the mystery of Tyler’s illness and strange behavior. Reaver would get his glass back over my dead body. I stumbled as Reaver’s words sank in. “Why did you call me a Guardian?” And did he know that my raven-haired antagonist had called me the same thing?
He cocked a brow, and his knowing smile did little to comfort me. False sunlight glittered through the leaves of a birch tree, and I joined its company, fleeing Reaver’s presence for the main floor of the house. When I hit the top of the stairs, I slammed back into my corporeal form with all the force of a Mack truck hitting a wall. Katana at the ready, I looked around for whatever had kept me from traveling unseen. Near the foyer, my gaze found Moira.
Reaver’s sister blocked my path, her lips moving unintelligibly. I don’t know how, but she kept me confined to my solid form. Levi said Sidhe possessed some serious magic, and apparently Moira was a heavy hitter. Her eyes narrowed as she took me in from head to toe, and from behind her back she produced two wicked-looking short swords, the blades forged into a waving pattern ridged with gleaming barbs. Superhuman healing or not, if she managed to cut me with one of those, it was going to hurt like a sonofabitch.
“Is it true you can talk to the dead?” Well, Levi said she could, and when would I get another chance to ask her?
Showcasing none of the elegance she’d displayed at the PNT summit, Moira was dressed for a fight. Her long, fawn-colored hair had been pulled back, and her outfit would’ve had a marine weeping with respect. All the navy blue ensemble needed was a splash of camo and she’d be ready for a black-ops mission. A corner of her mouth lifted in a smirk as she gave me a head-to-toe appraisal. “Would you like to speak with someone? It’s not necessary. Continue on, and you’ll be joining the dead shortly.”
Well, crap. This was
“Easier than you think.” Moira’s tone would have dropped a less stalwart warrior. She crouched in a battle stance, rocking her weight from foot to foot, and twirled the crooked swords in her hands. She didn’t wait for me to charge but ran with inhuman speed across the foyer and into the great room, where I stood like an idiot, awed by the graceful ferocity of her attack. Too bad I had to fight against her instead of alongside her.
Moira definitely had the advantage. She swung her arms with practiced precision, leaving me no choice but to parry her attacks. The force and speed of her movements sent me to the floor, and I hugged the hourglass close to my body, using the katana as a shield as she continued to attack. She lunged at me, aiming her blades for my midsection, and I landed a solid kick to her right hip, sending her stumbling back against the wall. While she collected herself, I launched my body from the floor and attacked, slicing my blade across her arm before she could defend herself.
A shriek that should have broken glass erupted from Moira’s throat, and the smug look she’d worn earlier transformed into one of mindless rage. Someone was a sore loser. Maybe that was why Reaver didn’t keep board games in the house. The break in her attack had given me the advantage, though, and positioned me close to the door. I took off running as if ghoulish fiends were chasing me, but that bitch was faster than any undead creature I’d ever seen in the movies. All I knew was one second she leaned against the wall favoring her injured arm, and the next she had me by the hair, dragging me through the open door and back into the house. I used her movement for momentum, slamming her back against a wall, but froze when I felt the cold barbs of her blade resting just below my jaw.
“No!” Reaver shouted from the top of the stairs. “Moira, you can’t!”
Her labored breath caressed my cheek, and her grip on me tightened, the steel biting farther into my skin. I felt the trickle of blood and the fusing of my skin as it healed. Reaver approached us slowly, his arms held out imploringly before him as he calmed his sister with soothing tones.
“Moira, let her go.”
What. The. Hell? My eyes widened in disbelief as I took in the worried expression on Reaver’s face. How could he possibly be concerned for the person who stole from him? If I’d found someone in my apartment stealing my stuff, the fucker would have been toast. Believe it.
“She’s not worthy,” Moira said, her voice shaking with rage. “Let me kill her or we’ll all suffer for her stupidity.”
Not the first time I’d been called stupid in the last few days. I drove my elbow into Moira’s stomach, eliciting a grunt of pain. She tightened her grip, grabbing my hair so hard, I felt strands pulling loose from my scalp. “I want her blood!”
“Get in line,” I seethed. “Let me go and I won’t separate your head from your shoulders.”
