The Immortal Highlander
Page 49

 Karen Marie Moning

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Gabby squeezed her eyes shut. Inhaled deeply, exhaled slowly.
Then glanced at the clock and picked up the phone. It was dinner-time in California; her mom would be at work at Trio’s, the restaurant she managed.
She dialed the home number, to get the answering machine. She left a terse message explaining that something had come up and she wouldn’t be able to attend the graduation, but she’d send a gift and call in a few weeks. Feeling guilty, as she usually did where her mom was concerned, she added, “Maybe I can fly out for Christmas this year, okay?”
Assuming she was still alive.
Outside the suite, Adam sat with his back against the door, shifting restlessly, impatient for a shower himself, and to further Gabrielle’s seduction.
They could have slept on the train, in a passenger compartment with berth and bath, but he wanted her to taste more of the life he could give her, even without his full powers. Seduction required the appropriate stage, and luxury always made a splendid one. Besides, he wanted to do a bit of “shopping.” Trust would be a hard thing to win from her, but he could and would begin binding her to him this night with sex and gifts—those were his strengths, the things he could give better than any other man.
He knew she liked the suite. He’d seen it in her eyes. He’d seen also her instant wariness when her gaze had fallen on the only bed. He’d removed himself for a time to give her a chance to acclimate, wanting her shower-warmed and relaxed, her guard down (in as much as she would ever drop her guard) when he returned.
A glance down the hall at the clock above the elevators told him it would be soon: fifty-two minutes down, eight to go.
Though he was certain they were safe stopping—the four Hunters Gabby had seen would have a hard time tracking them in modern cities with their millions of inhabitants and confusing man-made scents, and could only cover so much ground—he wasn’t about to leave her alone.
Now that he was sifting place again—despite the tangle he’d left in Kentucky and all the Fae-residue in Cincinnati—he guessed they had a full day, at most two, before Darroc arrived in the general vicinity. Which was an acceptable risk, for by morning they would be gone. But this night, this one stolen night, would be his first.
Then he would implement the plan he’d formulated on the train.
It was now imperative he secure an audience with Aoibheal. She had to be apprised that Darroc had brought forth her Hunters from the Unseelie realm, something not only forbidden but costly to do, as the Hunters were mercenary to the core and handsomely retained by Aoibheal in exchange for powers and privileges.
Adam knew of only one thing Darroc might have promised them to turn them from the queen’s service. The one thing the Hunters knew Aoibheal would never give them: freedom from their realm of shadow and ice. A return to the old ways.
Which meant that Darroc was planning an attempt to overthrow the queen, and soon. And Adam had no doubt that, should Darroc come to power, not only would The Compact be immediately voided, the Unseelie would be freed and it would be war between the realms. Man would be plunged into a Dark Age the likes of which they’d not seen in millennia.
He could no longer afford to waste time waiting for Circenn to resurface. It was no longer a case of him seeking an audience merely because he was fed up with his punishment. The queen was in danger, his Sidhe-seer was in danger, the future of all the realms was in jeopardy, and he was going to have to force Aoibheal to appear.
When she’d first made him human, he’d toyed with this idea initially but had decided against it. Not only had he lacked the intermediary necessary to make it work, he knew the queen’s fury would know no bounds if he did such an unthinkable thing.
But now, he thought darkly, he had a reason. Faery was doing precisely what he’d always suspected it would do without him—falling apart.
In the morning, they would leave for Scotland.
And there, on the first day of August, on the feast of Lughnassadh, a mere ten days hence, one way or another, by fair means or foul, Adam would do the unthinkable.
A thing no other Tuatha Dé in existence would ever even consider doing.
The queen would be incensed at first, but upon realizing why he’d done it, upon discovering Darroc’s treachery, she would be pleased and grateful. She would swiftly reinstate his power and restore his immortality. He probably wouldn’t even have to apologize (for things that he shouldn’t have to apologize for anyway). And all would be well once more.
But tomorrow would be soon enough to contemplate such matters. Tomorrow would be all about becoming immortal and regaining his powers again.