Tracking the Tempest
Page 45

Anyan and I stalked about the backyard, his big nose twitching as he smelled the air.
“Seems clean,” he rumbled as we walked the borderline between the mown lawn and the high grass that constituted the rest of the country property.
I nodded my agreement, peering out into where the grass gave way to trees. I could have sworn I saw something—
“There,” I said, pointing. “Anyan, there's a path.”
And so there was, cutting through the brush. It appeared to loop back into the trees behind the house.
The barghest took the lead, using both magical probes and scents carried on the wind to scout our way down the slender trail.
“Water,” he muttered, aware of things I couldn't yet see that made sense only when we rounded a corner and suddenly, in front of us, there was another small, mown glade encircling a pond. It was obviously a swimming hole, as there was a small wooden dock jutting out of the water strewn with pool noodles and two fancy floaties. It was a beautiful spot, unmarred, luckily, by the bodies of the two humans.
Or any sign of our friends.
We sighed and I walked toward the dock. I was starting to realize that I really, really wasn't brave. I was the girl who always sat in the back of the theater, eyes hidden under her coat, thinking at the heroine of the horror film, Don't open that door! Don't you dare open that door! Why would you? Ohmigod, she's opening the door…
And yet, there I was, creeping out onto the wood of the dock, waiting for something to jump out at me from the water, thinking, Why am I walking out on this dock? Why would I do this? Who walks out on the dock?!
But nothing happened, and I was safe. Not least because Anyan watched me the whole time, sending his own strength into my shields, his nose twitching.
He could probably smell my fear. So much for playing the warrior.
I finally crept out to the end of the dock and slowly, carefully peered over the edge. There was nothing: no bodies, no Conleth, no nothing. Just a wayward floatie, half inflated.
“You're doing great, Jane,” Anyan's voice rumbled from behind me suddenly, causing me to jump.
I held my hand over my racing heart as I turned to find him studiously not laughing.
“Don't do that! You nearly gave me a coronary!”
The barghest's control broke and he chuckled. “Sorry. Can't help it. Used to walking quietly.”
“Yes, well, Mr. McCreeperson, let's not sneak up on Jane. Or Jane might pee in her pants.”
“Why are you referring to yourself in the third person? That's weird.”
“You're weird.”
We paused, and then smiled at each other, satisfied with our exchange. I liked the way the skin around his eyes crinkled into crow's feet when he smiled.
“There's more path,” Anyan said, interrupting my reverie.
“Hmm?”
“There's more path,” he repeated, nodding his head toward the opposite side of the little glade.
“Crap,” I said, making my way toward solid ground. But before I could get there, Anyan grabbed my arm.
“Jane, I just want to tell you that I'm serious. You really are doing great. I know you're scared, but you're fighting it. That's all any of us can do.”
I blushed, ducking my face. “Thanks, Anyan,” I replied, as we set off toward the other end of the path.
I had little time to bask in the barghest's affections, however, for as soon as we neared our destination, Anyan tensed.
“Behind me, Jane,” he muttered. If I thought his power had been blanketing me before, it was now almost a physical weight on my shoulders as we walked down the trail. Eventually, we came across another little track branching off from ours. Anyan turned to peer down that trail, his nose twitching furiously. He finally started to walk forward, with me practically treading on his heels as I concentrated on keeping my own defenses up to supplement his. When he stopped dead in his tracks, I was so close behind him that I crashed into him with an “Oof.” He reached behind himself, steadying me on my feet and holding me still. My nose was pressed into the leather of his jacket, my breasts into the small of his back. I also recalled he had stuffed quite a big can in those ragged-looking jeans. Barghest got back, I thought, feeling a powerful—and entirely inappropriate—urge to spank him. Then I remembered biting that same derriere all those months ago, and my cheeks flushed.
We moved forward again, Anyan's hand still on my waist, keeping me pressed against him. My cheeks grew even hotter, and I couldn't believe I was reacting like this, considering the circumstances. I didn't know what Anyan had smelled, what was going on, but it couldn't be good. And yet all I could think of was the feel of Anyan's body against mine as we strode forward.
“What's going on?” I whispered, trying to refocus my energy, just like I'd been told.
“Blood,” he whispered, and my libido fizzled away as if it had never awakened to begin with.
“Shit,” I replied.
“That too,” he murmured, distracted by everything the wind was carrying to him.
We stopped again, and I peered around his big frame to see that in front of us was a little house. It looked like an oversized children's playhouse or a small artist's studio. Or a writer's retreat, I realized, my heart falling into my boots.
“Stay here, Jane,” he murmured, but I kept on his heels as we walked forward. I wasn't going to let him face whatever was in there alone.
The door to the little studio was locked, but Anyan didn't bother with mojo. He just raised a big-booted foot and kicked in the door. It swung open, banging against the wall. Two bodies lay splayed, drenched in blood that looked fresh. Anyan swore, trying to pull me behind him before I saw too much. But it was too late. I screamed once: a short, sharp burst that took all my lung capacity. I clapped my own hand over my mouth a second before Anyan did.
He turned me around and pulled me to him to shield my eyes from the sight of Edie's and Felicia's bodies. For they were definitely dead. Very definitely dead. And, from the amount of blood on the floor, walls, and the ceiling, and the haunting expressions on their shattered faces, they hadn't died easily.
“Shh,” he said, but it wasn't to comfort me. It was a sharp shush, meant to stop my horrified bleating. He pulled me out of the doorframe and onto the studio's little porch. Pulsing with power, his shields held me still behind him as he sniffed, raising a hand that suddenly held a swirling-green mage ball.
Anyan pivoted just as Fugwat broke cover and ran toward us from the trees to our left. Still unsure of his intentions, we waited until he fired a mage ball directly at us, not breaking stride. The spriggan was surprisingly fast for something so bulky, but he was no match for Anyan's own aim or power. The barghest blasted Fugwat square in the chest with a crushing wave of force, and even though his shields absorbed most of the blow, it was still powerful enough to send the spriggan skidding over the ground.
We heard a shout from our right, and suddenly Graeme was running at us, his beautiful face contorted in rage. Anyan was still holding down the struggling spriggan with his power, and I knew if the barghest came to my aid, it would be at the expense of unleashing Fugwat. So I concentrated, putting all the power I had into making my shield not just a barrier for magic, but on making it a wall.
And with a satisfying thump, the incubus bounced off my shields like he was a giant rubber ball. Landing on his back in an undignified sprawl, he shot me a look of pure venom. But before he could rise, Ryu was there, summoned by my scream. Graeme crab-crawled backward to where his compatriot lay, as the three baobhan sith approached, wicked-looking mage balls sizzling in their upraised hands. Graeme knew he was bested, and his body sagged where he sat.
Meanwhile, Anyan concentrated his power on holding down the spriggan, so I shifted my own shields to encompass both of us. He smiled at me, funneling everything he had into pinning down the small giant, leaving me in charge of protecting us.
Part of me thought he was nuts, but another part of me appreciated the faith he had in me.
Ryu walked around to the studio, poking his head inside. His free hand clenched into a fist, and when he turned back to face the culprits, I could tell he was barely containing his fury.
“What the hell have you done?” Ryu demanded of our two prisoners, his voice cold with rage.
Both males stared up at him mutinously, silent.
“Who are you working for? Phaedra? Jarl? Yourselves?”
Neither Graeme nor Fugwat spoke. Ryu nodded to Anyan, and I felt the barghest's power squeeze around Fugwat. The spriggan endured for a while, before he gasped. But before he could break, Graeme interrupted.
“Torture us all you want, baobhan sith. You'll get nothing. We serve a greater cause than ourselves.”
There was an iron intractability in the incubus's voice that seemed to boost Fugwat's own resolve. The spriggan pressed his meaty face into the earth, as if to gag himself.
“Fine,” Ryu said, glancing in my direction. I wondered what he would have done had I not been there. “Maybe Orin and Morrigan can loosen your tongues.”
Ryu straightened, his voice taking on a crisp tone of authority. “Graeme Incubus and Fugwat Spriggan,” he said, “You are hereby charged with endangering the secrets of our race and violating our code of human-Alfar relations. You are stripped of all rights as of this moment, including the right to fair combat. With these words I commend you to the tender mercy of our king and queen. Let their judgment—”