Chapter 12

The druid's husky whisper shuddered down my spine, and I threw my head sideways, trying to bash his face. He tightened his hold on my mouth and jaw, forcing my head back into his shoulder.

"I knew you were charming, but plotting my death with a kelpie?" Sarcasm dripped from his deep voice. "And Balligor, I distinctly remember you saying only a few hours ago that you had no idea what was killing fae around here."

A wet grumble rolled off the slimy fae among the reeds. You offered me nothing of value. But if you give me the pretty one, I will tell you.

"Treacherous, isn't he?" the druid murmured. "He would have killed you once I was dead, you know."

As though I hadn't expected as much. I grabbed his wrist with my free hand and tried to wrench his hand off my mouth. His fingers dug painfully into my cheeks.

His lips touched my ear, his whisper almost soundless. "Keep struggling and I'll let him have you. You're way too close to the water."

My gaze darted to the fae's dark head. We were only a step away from the reeds, though I could've sworn I'd stopped ten feet away from the pond.

The fae opened its mouth, displaying rows of jagged fangs pointing in every direction.

"Don't even think about it, Balligor," the druid barked, pulling me harder into his chest. "I have business with this one."

Then do your business with her quickly. I hunger.

"Tell me what you know about the fae deaths, and I'll give you something tastier than a weak witch."

Balligor gurgled another laugh. Foolish druid. Knowing of Death will not protect you from it. Too many know your name.

Water erupted as the fae launched itself out of the pond, a huge mass of seaweed and slime. The druid flung us both sideways, and we crashed to the ground as the fae's clawed feet slammed into the earth where we'd stood. It lunged at us, its fanged mouth gaping. We had no time to move.

Vicious snarls erupted.

Out of nowhere, two shaggy canine shapes charged past us and leaped at the kelpie's throat. It reared back, front legs kicking.

The druid rolled to his feet and whirled toward the kelpie. As the two black dogs darted around it, a golden glow lit his arm. The light filled his hand, and he snapped it out. A golden whip flashed, cutting across Balligor's face.

The fae squealed and lurched back. Snarling throatily, it fled into the pond. A muddy wave splashed across the ground as the creature disappeared under the surging water. I pushed silently to my feet as quiet fell across the small clearing.

The druid lowered his arm, the golden light of his magic fading—and the moment it was gone, I stepped up to his back, wrenched his head back by his hair, and laid my switchblade against his exposed throat.

He went still.

"Send your dogs to the far side of the clearing," I ordered, pressing against his back to limit his movements.

"Really?" he muttered.

"Now."

He sighed, and though he said nothing out loud, the two black dogs retreated across the clearing, their scarlet eyes glaring hatefully at me.

"Is this necessary?" he growled. "I just saved your life again. Clearly, I'm not planning to hurt you."

"You said you had business with me."

"I was bluffing, idiot."

I pulled harder on his hair. "Did you kill her?"

"Who?"

I kicked the back of his knee hard enough to buckle his leg. Slamming him from the same side, I knocked him to the ground and leaped on his chest. He caught my wrist as I aimed my knife at his throat for a second time.

"Did you kill her?" I yelled, shoving downward with both hands.

He grabbed my other wrist, halting my motion, and shouted back, "Who are you talking about?"

I rammed my knee into his groin. His eyes glazed with pain, and my knife dipped toward his throat. Swearing, he heaved his body sideways, throwing me off. I rolled away before he could pin me and pulled my legs under me to leap up.

Curved fangs in a dark snout snapped at my face. I froze. A black dog hovered in front of me, its muzzle ridged furiously. The second one was behind me, judging by the sound of its snarls. My fingers tightened around my switchblade, but the odds were impossible. They'd rip me apart.

Heaving a rough breath, the druid sat back, legs sprawled in front of him, bracing himself with one arm. "What the hell are you going on about?"

Aware that I was moments from death, I surveyed him. Locks of dark hair had tumbled over his forehead, and sweat dampened his black t-shirt, sticking it to his muscular chest. Leather ties hung around his neck, each one holding a rough-cut crystal of a different color. Black fingerless gloves glinted with steel on the knuckles. His alchemy belt was back in place, loaded with potions, and that big knife was strapped to his thigh.

He was well armed even without two guard dogs. And all I had was a switchblade, a missing familiar, and a mean disposition.

Locking my stare on his, I asked again, "Did you kill her?"

"I kill a lot of people. You'll have to be more specific." The irritation in his eyes didn't falter as he spoke. He had no idea who'd died or why I cared.

"My coven leader is dead."

Surprise flickered over his features. It seemed genuine. "How?"

"Don't know. She was found dead in her home last night. No sign of foul play."

"But you suspect me anyway? If I'd known you'd hold this much of a grudge against me for saving your life, I wouldn't have bothered."

Scowling, I retracted my switchblade. "Call off your dogs. I won't gut you… for now."

"They're vargs, not dogs. A type of wolf fae."

As he spoke, the shaggy canines trotted over to him. I crouched on my heels, not willing to rise while he was sitting. I wanted a good view of his eyes—vivid green but human, meaning the dark raptor fae wasn't possessing him right now.

"Are they your familiars too?" I asked. "Where's your eagle?"

"Nearby. Where's your familiar?"

"Also nearby." I hoped.

A knowing smile ghosted over his lips. "The crossroads is a strange place. It's easy to get lost or separated."

"And you're an expert?"

"Not even close, but I know more than you, the terrible witch. You must have a death wish to come out here, especially now. And don't pretend it's because you think I killed your coven leader."

"That's exactly why I'm here."

"To accuse me of murdering a woman I've never met, let alone had an opportunity to kill, before you even know how she died? Sure." He pushed to his feet. "I'll show you the way back. Your little shapeshifter will find us soon."

I shot up to my full height, hand clenched around my switchblade. "I don't need your help."

"I'm not helping you. I'm getting rid of you. And I'll be sending a varg to ensure you don't sneak back in for another attempted stabbing."

I gritted my teeth so hard my jaw ached.

"Speaking of which…" He moved toward me, and I braced defensively. He extended his gloved hand. "Give me that knife."

I stared down at his forearm. Rough pink scars ran from his inner wrist up to his inner elbow, as though he'd been raked by razor-sharp claws. They cut through a dark tattoo I couldn't make out under all the damage.

He flicked his fingers expectantly and I refocused. "Huh?"

"I'm not walking anywhere with you while you're armed. Give me your knife."

"Fuck you."

"Charisma oozes from your every pore," he observed dryly. "Give it to me, or I'll take it from you."

I was strong—for awoman—but his total muscle mass still outstripped mine by a dangerous margin. Plus the two guard dogs. Growling under my breath, I slapped my switchblade into his palm.

He pocketed it. "I'm going to pat you down for hidden weapons."

"Like hell you are."

"Again, you can cooperate or we can do it the hard way."

What choice did I have? I lifted my arms straight out to the sides and raised my chin, glaring with every ounce of my loathing. Stepping closer, he swept his large hands down my sides to my waist, then around to the small of my back and over my back pockets. My molars crunched together.

Crouching, he ran his hands over each leg, poked his fingers into the tops of my hiking boots, then straightened to his full height. I craned my neck back. At six-foot-four-ish, he had over half a foot on me and I didn't like it.

His gaze dropped, fixing pointedly on my chest. "Are you one of those women who stash things in their cleavage?"

I slapped my hands to my breasts, cupping them roughly through my tank top. "Do these look large enough to hide weapons in?"

"No." He raised an eyebrow. "But I'm sure they're very nice."

"I'm sure your tiny prick is real fucking nice too."

"Murderous and foul-mouthed. You're seduction in motion, sweetheart."

I snarled, arching up onto my toes to get in his face. He stared down at me, lips curving with cool amusement and eyes locked on mine.

"Got a name?" he asked.

"Not for you."

"‘Sweetheart' it is, then."

"Saber," I spat.

His eyebrows rose slightly. "Fitting."

"I already know your name," I sneered. "Zakariya."

"Zak. No one calls me Zakariya."

"The MPD does."

A muscle in his jaw twitched. I leered. He scowled.

Realizing we were standing inches apart, our faces indecently close and gazes fixed on each other, I dropped onto my heels and stepped back.

He cast me a brief, assessing glance, then turned. "This way. See you later, Balligor."

The latter statement, which he'd directed toward the pond, sounded more like a threat than a farewell. The reeds rustled in answer, but no dark, slimy head appeared.

I followed the druid away from the water, keeping a few steps behind him, my hand opening and closing as I wished for my switchblade. Would he give it back? And what should I do next? Going straight home, possibly into the waiting arms of the MPD, wasn't part of my plan. Not that I had much of a plan.

I couldn't see or sense Ríkr, but I knew he was nearby. He was lurking in the shadows or hiding up in the trees like the cunning little ambush hunter he was.

Zak—thedruid waved at me. "Hurry up. It's easy to get separated in here."

He'd mentioned that before. I glanced around at the shadowy trees and curtains of flowering vines, looking for a likely place to—

Reaching back, he grabbed my wrist. I jerked my arm as he pulled me forward again.

"Forget it." He pulled me to his side. "There are nastier fae lurking around here than a kelpie. Do you actually have a death wish?"

I snorted.

"From where I'm standing, it's starting to look like it. You were chatting with a kelpie like he was a toothless hob, and you barely flinched when my vargs were in your face."

"I told you when we first met that I don't scare easily."

"There's a fine line between brave and stupid. You fight like a cornered lynx, but that doesn't make you a match for a grizzly bear."

"Are you the grizzly bear in this analogy?"

"I'm saying you're not as tough as you think you are."

"How the fuck would you know?"

He rolled his green eyes toward the misty forest canopy. "Has anyone ever told you you're excessively prickly?"

"I thought I was charming, according to you."

"In your own special way," he retorted, sarcasm returning in full force. "Do you threaten to disembowel everyone you meet?"

"Only the people I really like."

He barked a short laugh, and I bit the inside of my cheek, tamping down the urge to shoot off another combative remark. I wasn't normally conversational… though I supposed this wasn't much of a conversation.

Tugging my wrist, he detoured around a crumbling pillar. "Is there a particular reason you want to slit my throat so badly?"

"Do you really need to ask? I saw your bounty listing."

"That's it? So your hobbies include volunteering at an animal rescue, a farrier apprenticeship, and bloodthirsty vigilante justice?"

That was hitting a little too close to the truth, though I wouldn't call my compulsive acts of vengeance a "hobby."

"Or are you after the bounty itself?" he mused. "That cold million tempts a lot of mythics."

"I don't give a shit about money. You're a kidnapper and a murderer."

"The rumors of my abduction activities have been greatly exaggerated."

"Let me guess. You aren't responsible for dozens of murders either."

"I don't keep count, but that part is probably accurate."

My eyebrows scrunched. Why would he deny one but not the other?

His grip on my arm tightened, and he yanked me toward him. I thumped against his hard chest as he looked down at me with cold eyes, the strange dusky glow of the ethereal forest highlighting the angles of his face.

"You came after me for a reason." His deep voice, rough with threat, rolled down my spine in a shiver. "Tell me what you really want."

I bit my lower lip until pain stung my senses. "I haven't decided yet."

"What?"

"I'm considering a few options."

His menacing aura faded into confusion. I gazed up at him, my teeth worrying my lower lip—and he slapped his free hand against mine, stopping me from slipping my fingers into his pocket in search of my switchblade.

He pulled my hand away from his pants, now holding both my wrists—and his mouth shifted into a rueful, half-exasperated grin. "You're something else, Saber."

An odd, weightless twist in my lower belly caught me off guard. I bared my teeth at him.

He pushed me in front of him, keeping a hand on my shoulder so I didn't run off, and I breathed a silent sigh of relief that his face was out of my line of sight and couldn't keep messing with my head.

Because he was really messing with my head, and I didn't understand why.