Chapter 26

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

T he five miles between the portal exit and the location where Uthe believed Lyssa's son and Mason's daughter might be held were heavily forested. Tree branches and foliage pressed in on them as they emerged. There was no path.

"I miss Adan's mapping ability," Maddock said with a grunt, holding the branch that had smacked him in the face away from Lady Lyssa's as she stepped past it. "He could have gotten us closer."

"Stealth is probably a good call," Merc observed.

"Yeah. So was yours on Yvette. I'm not seeing latex and stiletto boots working here. Though she might have been able to use that whip of hers like a machete."

Merc offered a grim half-smile. Maddock and Yvette routinely goaded one another to justify their magical sparring matches, bouts that risked severe injury but both enjoyed too much to give them up. Merc was sure Maddock was hoping he'd pass the comment on to the Circus Mistress to draw her wrath.

Just as Yvette would have done, Merc was sure, Lady Lyssa had changed into hunter gear; black tank, brown cargo pants, thick soled boots, her hair braided and coiled on her neck. She was used to being prepared to fight, a reassuring thought.

Her head was up, eyes searching the thick canopy above them. "This forest is old. The type of place a Fae would seek, if they were in our world."

Maddock and she exchanged a look, and Lyssa shook her head. "I don't sense any. Not yet. But the warning sign should be heeded."

"Agreed."

Thanks to Daegan's tracking abilities, they did find a deer trail in short order. They could have used magic to open up a path, but such signatures were like sending smoke into a daylight sky. With the level that had been in play on the island, there was no way of knowing if eyes were already upon them or not, but playing it safe made sense. While Merc was tempted to take to the air, he kept his wing cloaking in place, mindful of Ruth's suggestion.

When they were within a mile of the proposed location, Mason and Lyssa came to an abrupt stop. One of Lyssa's hands landed on Jacob's arm, the other on Mason's. Their fingers twined together.

"What?" Maddock whispered.

"We can feel Kane and Farida," Lyssa said, her voice tight. "But we're being blocked from communicating. Both of us."

"I can feel Kane like he's next to me," Jacob added, "but it's like his mind is gagged."

"Trads can't do this," Lyssa said, low. Her eyes took on a killer's flatness. "Let's keep going."

Mason and Lyssa continued, side by side, Jacob to Lyssa's left. Without direction, the rest spread out. Being experienced hunters or fighters, they knew what was required.

At the half-mile mark, Merc detected the Trad vampires, as well as other aromas associated with a camp. Maddock had cloaked all of them, but when they were within a hundred yards and starting to see buildings through the thinning trees, a tinny voice echoed through them. Someone was using a megaphone.

"Lady Lyssa, is that you? Did you accept our hospitality, or did you and Lord Mason send lackeys? For your children's sake, I hope you came yourselves."

"Only a magic user like me could have detected the cloak," Maddock muttered to Merc. But obviously the speaker didn't know how many—or who—it contained.

Maddock moved to Lyssa and murmured to her. She glanced at Mason and Jacob, and the three of them proceeded forward. Merc, Maddock, Daegan and Gideon melted into the forest again, taking different points of the perimeter.

By the time Lyssa, Mason and Jacob came out of the trees, Merc had found a tall pine with an optimal view of the camp. He also Lyssa stiffen and pause, and followed her gaze to the cause.

A fucking guillotine. It had been set up in the center of the small compound, which included a cabin and several tents. The frame of the guillotine was polished wood, the blade new and sharp, gleaming from the camp lights that illuminated the night.

Kane, Lyssa's son, was suspended from a frame of recently cut wood, positioned several feet above a bed of wooden stakes. His arms and legs were pulled out to either side. Farida was next to him on the same type of device.

Merc studied the cables and weights holding them in place. Being familiar with the Circus's methods of taking things quickly into the air or dropping them in front of a surprised audience, he recognized the far more diabolical purpose. A lever would activate the system, which would drop counterweights, aiding gravity by increasing the speed and force at which the frame would drop. With its vampire occupant.

Two vampires wearing cargo pants, T-shirts and hiking boots stood by those levers, gripping them firmly. If they were attacked, the levers would go down with them.

The guillotine may have been the first thing she'd seen, but as soon as their children came into view, Lyssa and Mason's attention locked upon them.

The teens had been suspended for far too long, weight pulling against shoulders, back and hips. One of Kane's shoulders had dislocated, probably because he'd struggled against his bonds. The joint was swollen, his face taut with pain. Farida's long hair cloaked her countenance, but when she lifted her head, it was drawn from lack of blood, her gaze feverish. But also feral. The fight hadn't left these two.

As their parents stepped out of the forest, Merc saw longing, rage and fear flash through their offspring's eyes, but they said nothing. Vampires were closer to wild animals than humans, their young trained early on how to react to threats. They wouldn't reveal anything which would give an enemy an advantage. Just like Ruth, the first time he'd encountered her, in the tall grass with the lion.

The mind link was still absent, evident from the flash of distress that crossed the young faces as they'd reached for the one comfort they'd thought might be in their grasp. If they were under less duress, they would have anticipated it, because no way their parents could have been approaching, this close to them, and not have the mind link reactivate long before they appeared, unless someone had imposed spell work to continue blocking it.

He saw the rage in the parents, but Mason and Lyssa were old enough to control such reactions. They had one focus; take any opportunity to get their children to safety. And annihilate the ones who'd dared threaten them.

Jacob, for all that he was a human servant, showed he was truly his mistress's mate, because he was a deadly presence at her side, watching for that same opportunity.

A half dozen vampires were positioned throughout the clearing with crossbows. Loaded with wooden stakes with metal tips to ensure they penetrated skin and muscle swiftly, the shaft would bring death to the vampire target.

"They will not be pleased," the Trad with the megaphone informed Lyssa. "You're early." The megaphone made a staticky, whistling noise as he lowered it.

Merc assumed this was Grollner, and not just because the stump he stood near held a chess set, where he'd apparently been playing himself. Maybe his lackeys weren't smart enough to present him a challenge. He was built bullish, with thick shoulders and powerful thighs. His brown hair was snarled down his back, his pale blue eyes overflowing with keen intelligence and zealotry. The worst combination when trying to find a weak spot.

"It throws a wrench in their plans," Grollner noted. "But I'm glad. The waiting was getting tedious. Fortunately, your son is a pain in the ass, so he inspired us to get our axes out and build a better mousetrap to keep him subdued." He gestured to the pulley system. "We were so pleased with the results, we put the girl up there with him. He gets a little pissy when she's out of his sight. They're a true credit to you both."

He nodded to Mason and Lyssa. "Not a plea for mercy out of either of them. But he has a very creative vocabulary."

Chatty bastard. But Merc wasn't fooled, and neither was anyone else. Lyssa's green eyes were polar frost. "What's the purpose of the guillotine?"

"To kill you and Lord Mason. One of our more well-heeled members fondly remembers the French Revolution. He had this reproduction made a couple years back and has been using it to finish off his food sources when he's depleted them. He says it's so they don't suffer needlessly." Grollner's lips lifted in a grim smile. "But we all know that's bullshit. He likes to use the damn thing. Likes its efficiency."

"So you choose to use our children to achieve your objectives, instead of fighting us with honor."

Grollner shrugged. "There's too much emphasis on noble battles to the death. Different times call for different measures. We can return to the honorable ways afterward. No one calls a knight to exterminate rats."

"Once you choose dishonor, there is no path back," Jacob said quietly.

"A human's opinion is worth nothing," Grollner said to Lyssa, not deigning to look in Jacob's direction. His smirk vanished, his lips tightening. "You have backup in the woods. Our friends say four of them. There's a price for trickery, my lady."

The vampire holding the lever on Farida shoved it to the halfway mark. The frame dropped like it was on greased rails.

With a roar of rage, Mason leaped forward. The bows came up, but Lyssa was faster. She put herself in his path, using a deftly wielded combination of strength and magic to hold the much larger male vampire at bay, though he snarled and his heels dug into the ground, trying to push past.

It took a moment before Lyssa's murmured insistence, her restraining hands upon him, brought Mason back to himself, letting him see his daughter had not been impaled.

The frame had screeched to a stop, inches from the stakes. Even if Lyssa hadn't tried to "trick" Grollner, there would have been some excuse concocted to do it, because he wanted them to see how rapidly the sentence could be carried out. To ensure obedience. Compliance.

Merc's gaze narrowed. They had proven how rapidly it could happen.

Now he could calculate.

Lyssa glanced toward the forest and made a come out gesture.

"A wise decision, my lady. And impressive magic use. I thought we'd have the pleasure of seeing Lord Mason's daughter weep after my vampires staked him with a half dozen arrows. Not as satisfying as the guillotine, but I wouldn't want to lose any of my men to his pointless rage."

Mason had regained control of himself, but his amber eyes on Grollner were the timer of a nuclear bomb, marking the seconds. His daughter's rasping breaths as she controlled her own adrenaline surge punctuated the clearing. Merc suspected Mason felt every ragged breath as if it were cut glass in his own lungs.

Responding to Lyssa's bidding, Maddock emerged from the south, Daegan and Gideon coming from the west. Merc slid out of his tree and moved into view on the eastern side of the camp. As Grollner examined all of them, Merc allowed a fog of his incubus power to roll out and drift through the campground, surrounding Grollner's vampires. Getting their cocks hard, testing how open to distraction they were.

"A human sorcerer." Grollner's contempt toward Maddock was obvious. "A vampire warrior and his servant. And you…incubus." His gaze flicked toward Merc. "Did you hope he could compel us to fuck each other to death, Lady Lyssa?"

"He's a capable fighter," Lyssa said, her expression flat.

"There's nothing to fight. You could have left them at home." Grollner was done with the preliminaries. His gaze latched onto Mason. "You first. Go to the guillotine, kneel and put your head into it. Lady Lyssa will follow."

"You could have killed him on the island," Lyssa said. "Why now?"

Grollner shrugged. "Our invisible friends wished to avoid being directly involved in the killing of a Council vampire."

"They had no problem killing the owner of the island."

"He was of low rank. Of no consequence."

If Ruth had been here, Merc would have had to peel her off Grollner's face. She would have come away with his clawed-out eyeballs in her clutched hands.

He thought of Mal's love for his daughter, the straightforward intelligence and strength of the male. Of Elisa, the woman who'd nurtured Ruth and given her the courage to embrace her softer qualities, her submissive nature. Given him that gift.

Yes, someone was going to die here.

Grollner glanced back toward Mason. "Since we needed your blood, fresh, it was also important that you come to us, as you have done. The plan has had its hitching points, but it has succeeded."

Lyssa's lips thinned, but her jade eyes gleamed with a decisive light. "Your Fae allies can't lie. It's far easier to work around the question, ‘were you involved' than ‘did you do it?'" She spat on the ground, an impressive act of contempt.

The Trad's eyes glittered. "A distasteful alliance, but it was necessary to achieve our objective."

Confirmed. Lyssa's bluff had proven useful. Merc saw the brief flash of it in her gaze before it was gone. Too quick for Grollner to note it.

"And what is that objective?" she asked. "I'm sure you've practiced a speech about it to impress us."

Grollner's gaze narrowed. "I'm happy to have you go first. You can put your fucking arrogant neck in the guillotine right now."

"I personally enjoy diabolical scheme speeches," Gideon spoke up. "So if you're in a sharing mood, we're all listening."

Grollner shot him another look of contempt. "You will be dead in a few moments, human."

"It's not a long speech, then?"

Daegan shoved Gideon out of the way as one of the vampires released an arrow. It would have punched the former vampire hunter in the chest, but Daegan deflected it with a turn of his body, Gideon rolling to his feet on the other side of him, knife and stake out and ready.

"Hold," Grollner snarled. "Unless you want your children to die."

That had been directed to Mason and Lyssa, who had sought to take advantage of the distraction, but the Trad and his company had vampire speed as well. Even if not a match for Mason and Lyssa, it was enough. The crossbow holders had closed ranks in a solid line between the vampire parents and their children. Mason or Lyssa might get through them, but the delay would cost them precious time.

"If they die, you lose your leverage to control us," Mason said.

"If they die, it is regrettable, because we have plans for them. But if they must be sacrificed to protect ourselves for our overall objective, it will be done." Grollner's lip curled. "My allies are far more powerful than you, Lady Lyssa. Make no mistake, you will not be able to cut me down, no matter how fast you are."

"So your overall objective is to destroy vampires like us." Lyssa gave him a disdainful look. "Same shit, different day."

"With some more clever twists than my past Trad brethren. Without its two most powerful advocates for the changes that turn vampires away from what they should be, the Council majority remaining will likely revert to more traditional, less human-centric ways. There are those on your Council who have entertained having a Trad representative. We will make that happen."

"I think you underestimate their intelligence," Lyssa said. "Which is what happens when you isolate yourself, create your own echo chamber and feed it only with the information that supports your view of the world."

As she engaged with the Trad, Merc was scanning the area, his senses wide open. If their allies were watching from close by, they were damn powerful Fae, their cloaking making them impossible to locate.

"Your son will live, Lady Lyssa." Grollner's eyes flashed at Lyssa's words, but he had the bit in his teeth. "He'll be raised properly, learning how vampires are supposed to live. Your daughter," his gaze moved to Mason, "has a promising lineage. She might spawn a child to expand our ranks, if enough of us try to plant the seed."

Lyssa's hand tightened on Mason's arm once again, but this time the male vampire only grew more still. Like a snake getting ready to strike at the rat obliviously walking over his coils.

"As they grow and adhere to our culture," Grollner continued, "our way of doing things, they will teach others, bring a different way of thinking to the ‘civilized' vampire world."

"I will fucking die first."

Despite the quivering that spoke of the agony of his physical state, Kane glared at his captors. And Farida wasn't going to be outdone. She hissed and spat on her handler, punctuating Kane's declaration.

When the vampire backhanded her, the force of the blow snapped her head to the left, and blood spurted from her nose and lip. It made her cry out, but when she sent him another look of murderous fury, it was an echo of what was on her father's face.

"No matter what else happens today, you will die."

Even though the Trads seemed to have the tactical advantage, Mason's menace was so palpable, Merc saw uncertainty flicker in the face of the vampire who had struck Farida. A reaction that could be contagious, at least among Grollner's backup. Lyssa and her group weren't acting like the outmatched force they were supposed to be.

"They do not have the advantage here," Grollner said sharply. "Remember our allies." He looked at Kane. "Allies powerful enough to wash everything out of your mind, except the memory of this place as your home, your world. And me, your father."

"My father stands over there," Kane told him.

"No. He is the human sperm donor." Grollner sent Jacob a contemptuous look. "Who never should have been involved in your raising. The scant few times our human cattle have borne us children, the females are killed shortly thereafter to remove their weakening influence."

His unpleasant smile moved to Lady Lyssa, then to Mason. "You were spared until now because the fresh blood of the parent is necessary for the memory wipe spellwork."

"I find it interesting these allies are here, even if hidden from sight." Lyssa's gaze moved over the forest. "As if they don't trust you to get the job done. They know you are not strong enough to stand against us on your own."

"You think I can be baited into doing something foolish, Lady Lyssa?"

"No." Her frank honesty caught Grollner's attention. "It's a question I think you should be asking yourself. They helped you kidnap the children to get us here. You need us for the blood, because the children, keeping them, is your prize. But also the bait."

"Yes," he said. "And you are here."

"Not for us. For you." Her half laugh was a blade being drawn. "As distasteful as you find your alliance, I can promise you it is ten times more so to a powerful Fae. If I do not finish you off here, they will. I guarantee it."

"Your children will still be dead," he said tightly. "If what you say is true, they will not allow any of us to live."

"Correct," she said quietly. "So why don't they want us to see them? What is their objective? Their agenda? When you join forces with another, it's the most important question to ask yourself. If—son of a bitch."

A flash of insight crossed her face. Ignoring Grollner's puzzled look, Lyssa turned toward Mason. "Pallas," she said. "He was present at the Council dinner two years ago, when we talked about Kane and Farida's desire to visit the island again. From there, he only needed to know where to put spies and listeners, and be patient enough to wait for the opportunity."

At Mason's look, she lifted a shoulder. "It's been bothering me," she told him. "I've been working on the question. It just came to me. I thought now might be the optimal time to share.

"He and Belizar drank together, spoke of Russia. Pallas spent time there, centuries ago, before the Industrial Revolution. They spoke of the things they wished were still the same. Innocuous conversation, but Belizar told me at one point Pallas said, ‘If you could go back to those times, when vampires and Fae did not mix, and there was no confusion about who is servant and who is Master, it would be better, simpler times, would it not?'"

She turned back to Grollner. "It's one of the dangers of mingling with other races. We recognize our commonalities, but we also forget our differences. Like how good the Fae are at trickery and deception. Pallas is connected to a group of High Fae who resent Tabor's tolerance, and challenge it routinely in his advisory meetings. They were unsettled when Queen Rhoswen and my family alliance turned in a similar direction. They'd felt like they could always count on her animosity toward the vampire world."

She gave Grollner a derisive look. "It pays to do your research before getting into bed with a venomous foe."

Her voice raised. "So we know it's you, Pallas. Do you care to show yourself, or would you prefer to keep skulking in the woods like a coward who won't face his enemies?"

As she spoke, she turned in a broad circle, except for a brief pause when she met Merc's gaze. With purpose. Then she'd completed the circle, and things changed.

The cloaking dropped, and energy flooded the clearing. Overpowering, High Fae energy.

Everyone had to brace against it, foe and ally alike. Kane and Farida's captors hadn't expected it, and Farida's captor was wiping her spit off his face. He stumbled back against the lever. Already at the halfway mark, and well-oiled, the pressure finished the job. The frame dropped.

"No."

With a howl of rage, Mason bowled through the crossbow holders before they expected him. They were knocked aside, even Mason's murderous intentions set aside as he tried to get to his daughter in time.

He was too late. The frame slammed down on the stakes.

Only Farida wasn't there. The restraint was empty. And not just hers. The only thing proving Kane's had held an occupant were four dangling and torn cuffs.

The two vampires who'd been guarding them were on the ground. Dead. Stakes had been ripped from the beds and used to dispatch them.

The startled archers regained their feet and tried to reform ranks. Their weapons' aim was pointed in two directions, one set toward Mason, the second toward Lyssa and the others. Their wild eyes said they'd been well and truly spooked. Only Grollner's roar, reminding them of the presence of their formidable allies, helped steady them.

Lyssa raised a hand, telling Daegan, Gideon and Maddock to hold. To wait. Mason had turned toward her, but even his feral fury banked at her look, his own flickering with calculation. Though it took effort to restrain themselves, not to take advantage of the moment, they obeyed the queen.

"Why do you take my prizes from me?" Grollner snarled at that formless Fae energy.

As the power increased in response, he braced his feet and slashed his hand through the air. "She's right. Don't play these games. She knows it's you. It's too late. You must come forth and help us finish it now."

Slowly the energy gathered into one spot, the northern side of the clearing, behind the guillotine and empty frames. As the power morphed into shapes, it brought Pallas into view of all the assembled.

Pallas, and the army of Fae backing him up.

Twelve High Fae. Fucking hell.

Jacob was sure his brother was having the same thought. They were outgunned.

Do not be so sure of that, Jacob.

His lady had dismissed Grollner and was focused on the Fae male a step in front of the others. He had gold hair and silver eyes, and wore the garb of a water Fae. Blue with silver trimmings, a sword and dagger on his belt. She inclined her head. "Pallas."

"Lady Lyssa." The Fae cast an indifferent glance at Grollner. "We took nothing from you, vampire. Pay better attention. The incubus is gone."

As Grollner spun to confirm it, Mason's attention went to the vampire who had a crossbow aimed at this chest. Mason's lips curled back from his fangs. "Without the element of surprise, you can't fire that fast enough to hit me. Take a few lessons from human hunters." His gaze flicked to Gideon.

"A compliment." Gideon raised a brow. "I may faint."

"An indirect one. And faint later," Mason said shortly.

Maddock seemed unnaturally still, his grip firm on his staff. When he met Jacob's gaze, he offered a slight nod, and Jacob felt a tiny fizz of energy. Since the vampires were scanning the area, nostrils flared, all senses on alert, he suspected the sorcerer was projecting a scrambled net of energy that could cloak the children and Merc, wherever they were.

Jacob hadn't seen Merc release them and kill their jailers. Neither had his lady. She wasn't even sure Pallas and his followers had. However, the important thing was Kane and Farida were out of target range, at least for now. His lady's rage was no less than Mason's or his own, though they all maintained their positions. Waiting for the cue to turn this into the bloodbath it was going to have to be.

He didn't know how they'd win against twelve High Fae. But where there was a will, there was a way. Gideon would call that fluffy bunny optimism. Jacob's brother had his own version of a pre-fight pep talk.

Kill all the fuckers before they can kill you.

Jacob, Gideon and Daegan had shifted to a wider formation as the crossbolt holders did the same. From their visibly nervous expressions, the vampires might bolt and leave it to the Fae. They had no chance against Daegan, Lyssa and Mason. Grollner's annoyed expression said he knew it, too. But he knew how much Pallas wanted from this scenario, too, as Pallas confirmed.

"If you are removed, there's no longer a bridge to the vampire world, a family connection to the Unseelie Queen," Pallas told Lyssa. "While we do not share much in common with this primitive creature," he nodded toward Grollner, "we desire to restore our respective worlds to what they were, before your influence changed it in unacceptable ways."

Lyssa sighed. "The key change, the paradigm shift, has already happened. You believe eliminating me will put it back in the box? Our connection is no longer the only one between the Fae and vampire worlds. Or the Fae and human worlds."

"The Queen's backing will ensure we succeed."

"You will not have it if she knows of this."

"You assume she does not?" He gestured at his belt, his garb. "I am of the water Fae. She and I share a similar lineage. Use your eyes, half-breed."

Jacob stepped forward. Lyssa put a hand on his forearm and cocked her head at Pallas. "Name calling. You aren't as sure of yourself as you seem. And you didn't say she does know of it. You sidestepped. Even if I fall here, you will lose. She will take your heads herself."

His lips tightened. "Not if you die here. She will be told the Trads succeeded in murdering you and your children."

"Trads who conveniently no longer exist for questioning." Lyssa sent a significant look toward Grollner, who paled. "Are you honorable enough to allow me to deal with him and his men first, Pallas? You won't have to get your hands dirty with their blood. Then the fight will be between you and us. Agreed?"

A sneer crossed Grollner's face. "You have no power to negotiate anything, Lady Lyssa. You will?—"

Pallas inclined his head. "Agreed."

Mason erupted into motion. He came straight at them, taking an arrow in the shoulder as he landed on the one who'd fired it.

"Thank you for the weapon," he said, pulling it out and shoving it into the vampire's chest. He added a vicious twist to the blow to ensure maximum damage to the organ.

In the time it took Mason to put his opponent down, Daegan's katana had whispered free of its sheath and removed two heads. As the Council's enforcer spun, Gideon slid under Daegan's arm and used his wrist crossbolt to kill the one aiming for his Master's back.

Daegan completed the circle, his free hand landing on Gideon's shoulder, twisting him to the right. The next vampire closing in on them had his eyes on Daegan and his lethal blade. Gideon surged up from the crouch Daegan had guided him into and shoved the stake under their enemy's ribs, using the vampire's momentum to rupture the vulnerable organ.

Maddock had conjured a fireball, tossing it up like a baseball player waiting for his turn at bat. It came quickly, two vampires closing in on his position. He deflected their arrows, a thrown knife, plus several bullets from a fired gun. When he launched the sphere of flame, it separated and reformed, two serpents that wrapped around their necks. The elemental garrote severed their heads, the skulls rolling away, engulfed in fire.

Jacob would have given them hell for not letting anyone reach him so he could take his own pound of flesh, but he and his lady had one target on their radar.

Grollner.

The Trad charged to meet her, but she was far swifter. He'd only gone two strides before she was on him. He grappled with her, likely hoping luck would provide him an advantage that simply wasn't there. She was far older, stronger and faster. He'd merely acted on fatalistic courage fueled by the knowledge his cause was lost.

Sliding away like an eel, she slammed him face down on the ground. Jacob closed in, and severed Grollner's cervical vertebra with his knife.

To incapacitate, not kill. His lady had things to say, but they wouldn't take long. Grollner wouldn't have time to heal.

When she was in the mood to embrace the form her Fae blood had given her, it was a winged gargoyle. The echo of it was unmistakable now in the way she perched on Grollner's back, her arms crossed over her knees. When she leaned down, she looked like she was bending down to feed on her prey's juicy eye meat.

Jacob backed off, watching for flank attacks, but each time he thought one of Grollner's vampires would make it to him, one of the other four men intercepted. The few left chose the smart decision. They bolted, but they didn't get far. Several of Pallas's entourage incinerated them with light they could have channeled directly from the sun, no matter that it was currently on the other side of the planet. Poof. That easy.

Yeah, when the fight was engaged with them, it was going to be bad.

An uneasy quiet settled on the clearing. Lyssa's deceptively calm voice penetrated it. "For decades, Trads and the Council have maintained an uneasy truce. One strained by those of your kind who target our female vampires. But you are not a unified people. If a rabid dog strikes at my child, I kill that unfortunate creature and end his suffering. I don't kill all of his brethren. There is no concerted effort among dogs to do harm to human children."

When she was truly angry, all emotion would drop from her voice. And that wasn't the only evidence of it. A polar wind built in the clearing, vortexes that sent shivers up spines, sank into bones. Even Pallas's followers didn't seem immune to it, their gazes shifting around them as if the effect was unexpected, though Pallas remained poker-faced.

Jacob remained silent, standing at his lady's back. The other four drew near to form a circle around them, a protective front. Mason stood near Grollner's head. He wanted to take it, Jacob could tell. But his lady wouldn't allow it.

This one was hers.

"My patience is at an end. You took my son, and my goddaughter. You hurt them." That wind frosted the pine boughs closest to the campground with ice. "You orchestrated the murder of a vampire and his servant, people I considered dear friends. They sacrificed their lives to try and protect our offspring."

The hand she'd clamped over Grollner's shoulder started to morph. That sleek and deadly gargoyle showed itself as it became a powerful claw, with talons that seemed twice as long as her fingers. She stroked the corner of Grollner's widened eye with one, leaving a trail of blood. When he strained to see her face, he saw the shadow of the one her half-Fae blood gave her. Tighter, more feral, a hint of the gray beast.

"You want me to act like a ‘Traditional' vampire, savage, acting only on my desires and needs? I will grant your wish, Grollner. You will not live to see it, but I will dedicate myself to annihilating every Trad that exists in our world. Every. Single. Fucking. One."

She tilted her head toward Daegan, who stood, expressionless, watching the exchange. "It will become his number one priority, sanctioned by Council."

"What will that accomplish?" Grollner rasped it, blood bubbling at his lips. Jacob noted his foot twitch, knew his spine was starting to repair. He sent her the message, and received a brief acknowledgement.

Let him think he has a chance, Jacob. It will make crushing his soul even more satisfying.

His lady wasn't feeling merciful. Jacob was fine with that.

"It will send a message that will take decades to forget," she said. "It is far better to be my friend than my enemy. Go to hell, Grollner, and rot there."

She twisted his head and wrenched it from his body, tossing it away and nimbly leaping back as the blood spurted.

In the same movement, her hand returned to its graceful manicured form. She didn't watch the life die out of Grollner's eyes, the body stop twitching. Instead, her gaze met Mason's, to confirm they were both satisfied. Though his gaze was still lit with amber fire, his tone was one of acceptance and respect. "My lady," he said formally.

She glanced at Maddock, Gideon and Daegan. "You have done well. Now comes the real fight."

The one we will likely lose, Jacob.

Not if Kane and Farida are okay.

He wondered if that was how Mal had felt, relieved his children hadn't been on the island. His heart tightened with grief he couldn't yet afford to feel, for the male vampire he'd respected and liked, tremendously, and for Elisa, who had been impossible not to love. If they'd been there, Jacob had no doubt Ruth and Adan would have fought just as fiercely, refusing to back down even in the face of a sure death.

Vampires of "no consequence." For those who sacrificed for and with others, there was no such thing.

We aren't going to lose , my lady, he decided. Don't be so negative.

Lyssa shot him a glance, then proceeded back across the clearing, two males in lockstep on either side of her. When she was a few paces from Pallas and the others, she stopped. "Thank you," she said, with courtesy. "There was a great deal of satisfaction in that."

Pallas's gaze flickered toward the trees. "I didn't know incubi had teleporting abilities. Lower magical creatures can surprise us."

"There's a bucket of things you don't know. Otherwise you wouldn't have done something this idiotic."

Gideon of course, standing at Daegan's side. Pallas ignored him, responding as if Lyssa had spoken.

"The Trad, and human sorcerers of unknown identity, will be blamed," he reminded her. "No one will assume the High Fae would be involved in something as crude as this. You will die here, and be unable to tell Rhoswen, Tabor or your Council anything. We will hunt down your young and dispatch them. With the incubus."

Lyssa bared her fangs. "Let's see who's right and who's not."

A few hundred yards from the clearing, concealed by Maddock's anchored cloaking spell, Merc perched in the thick boughs of a pine. Farida was inside the circle of his arm and wing on one side, Kane on the other. Neither teenager had looked away as the queen ripped off Grollner's head. They'd quivered with the desire to be at her side while she did it. Vampires didn't shy from bloodshed.

"We need to join them," Kane said for the twentieth time. Merc had had to restrain him forcibly during the fight with Grollner's forces. "They need help standing against the Fae."

Yeah, they did. But he knew what his charge was.

On their trek through the forest, Lyssa had asked it of him. "Ruth has spoken of your speed. Is it…greater than a vampire's? One of my age, or Mason's?"

"Yes. Exponentially."

Lyssa nodded. "If you see an opportunity to free our children, take it. Get them out of harm's way. You do not leave them until we have prevailed, or until you can deliver them to Council."

She'd paused, her mouth tightening. "I apologize. I know Ruth has given you her marks, but you aren't a servant. You aren't a vampire. I can't command you. I can only ask. I know you're an accomplished fighter. But it is your speed and your ability to fly that I need."

"I will do as you ask." He met her gaze. "I am here to be on your side. Because that is Ruth's side."

Lyssa had moved to face Pallas and his High Fae. Even if the males with her had the same magical power—and only Maddock came close, maybe—they were a fleet of sailboats facing down fighter jets.

Kane sucked in a breath. Waves of power were gathering, pulling oxygen from the air. Winds began to lash the trees and make the trunks sway.

"We are going to help them," the young vampire ordered. He sounded exactly like his mother. Except he wasn't.

He gave the boy cruel honesty. "You're not strong enough, and you will get them killed by dividing their attention between the fight and protecting you."

Anger flashed through Kane's eyes, but so did pain. "They had me out in the yard by the time it happened, but I saw how valiantly they fought. I heard…I heard her cry out when he died. I want their deaths."

"Elisa taught me how to sew a skirt hem," Farida said softly. "I was working on the stitches, right before they attacked."

Merc thought of how Elisa had put him to work in the kitchen. Curving her flour-dusted hand over his to show him how to pinch a pastry crust.

The tree shuddered and Merc increased his grip on them both. The battle had engaged. The clearing lit up like the Circus at the end of a performance, bolts of power, sparks, flashes of light. As he suspected, Maddock and Lady Lyssa held their own on the first barrage, but it wouldn't last. Pallas and his supporters knew what their advantages were, and they weren't in the mood to draw it out. They were employing their Fae magic liberally, making it difficult for the others to get into the action enough to make a difference.

Daegan was the exception. Whomever he fought had to engage with him directly, countering his swordplay with their own weaponry, as if he was immune to most of their magic.

Merc thought of what he'd heard about Daegan, whispers around the Circus. Some say he is Lucifer's son. A fallen angel.

No, not a fallen angel. But if he possessed an angel's blood…

He'd promised Lyssa to protect the children, but to his way of thinking, Kane and Farida would be far better off in the world if their parents were, too.

Ruth would concur.

"If you swear not to leave this tree, I will lend my aid," he told Kane. "You must stay here and protect Farida."

She was strong and tough, but she was also a young female vampire, very much at risk in this environment. This wasn't the only Trad enclave in the area.

"I don't need anyone's protection," Farida said, but when she clasped her hands together, they were visibly shaking.

Merc and Kane exchanged a look, and when Merc rose, pushing out of the tree to hover before them, Kane drew her to his side, the two of them settling in the crook of the branch. "It's all right. I'm not going to let anything happen," he told her.

Farida put her arms around him, her face against his neck. As Kane held her more tightly, her lids lifted to Merc, showing him her somber gaze.

She knew how to keep Kane out of the fight.

"Go," Kane ordered. "Please."

Merc shot away from them. He swooped into the clearing as Pallas was driving Lyssa back, trying to skewer her with showers of ice crystals. She was shielding, blocking, sending back spellwork to pull the ground from beneath his feet, calling rocks and branches to strike him, tangle him up. It would not be enough. He was pure High Fae, and her magic use, though a lot of raw power, didn't have his centuries of honing and skill.

But certain kinds of raw power could prevail against centuries of polish. Which appealed to Merc, because he could imagine how irritating the Fae would find that.

There were reasons he and Ruth got along.

Maddock was trying to hold back five, and Mason was backing him up, doing what he could. He knew some basic protection spellwork, and his strength and speed were formidable. Six were currently engaging Daegan and his blade, Gideon also doing what little he could to assist, just as Jacob was with Lyssa.

Merc went for the head of the snake, barreling toward Pallas. His theory about why Daegan seemed unaffected by certain Fae magic was about to be tested. At this speed, the protection shield Pallas was using to block Lyssa might hit Merc like a brick wall. Or…

Merc went through the shielding like a bullet through smoke. He drove the Fae off his booted feet. Before Pallas stopped rolling, Merc was on top of him, wings beating like a hawk's when landing on prey. It confused the Fae, kept him disoriented as Merc gripped his arms, pulled them back and out of their sockets, his feet snapping Pallas's spine like a twig. He yanked the Fae up, a broken doll.

He would likely heal, but Merc had immobilized him for now. He dropped him, spun and went for the group harassing Maddock, knocking them over like bowling pins. He moved so fast in their ranks, none could see him as he broke more limbs, spines and necks. The echoes of their howls followed him, but Maddock could now handle them, pressing the advantage Merc had offered him.

While the Fae magic was less effective on Daegan, it was preventing him from delivering a killing blow. So he'd adapted, choosing the tactics Merc had. When he had the opportunity, he'd cut off hands, or a leg below the knee, severing bone. The Fae were adapting too, however. Three of them combined forces, and the ground beneath Daegan's feet exploded.

The detonation catapulted him through the air, but he landed on his feet and closed back in like a freight train, with a bloody-fanged snarl.

While he didn't want to disrespect the perseverance, Merc took two of them before Daegan reached them. More cracking, breaking, dropping of bodies. One, taking advantage of his distraction with other opponents, got in a lucky fire spell, burning one wing all the way to the connecting muscle in his back, a searing pain. It hurt like hell but more importantly, it grounded him, a tactical disadvantage.

Then Gideon shocked the Fae—Merc was impressed himself—by coming out of nowhere to jump on his back and plunge his knife into his side like his arm was driven by a jackhammer. As they tumbled to the ground, the Fae twisted, wrapping a barbed wire of flame around the closest thing he could reach, Gideon's chest and right leg. In less than a blink, the human would be in pieces.

Merc yanked the Fae away from Gideon. Though only one wing was functional, the force of his pull took them a few feet in the air and then Merc fell to his back, the Fae writhing upon him. He cracked his neck when the Fae had wrapped that barbed wire around him. Though the flames fizzled out, the burn felt as deep in his flesh as Gideon's knife blade in the Fae's.

It didn't matter. The Fae was disabled.

Merc rose, ignoring the pain, the odd flap of his burned wing. Pallas's supporters littered the clearing. Some draped over Grollner's vampires in those weirdly intimate poses that Merc supposed always happened on battlefields.

Daegan knelt next to Gideon, a hand behind his head, his wrist to his mouth, giving him blood to counter the effect of the Fae's fire. Daegan probably needed some blood himself. They'd all taken hits. Lady Lyssa and Jacob would tend to one another the same way, and Jacob or Gideon would donate to Mason if needed, though the male vampire stood next to Lyssa on his own two feet.

Maddock had collapsed on a stump, his hand over an injury in his side that soaked his fingers with blood, but he was already doing an incantation to stem the blood flow and seal the wound. He would hold until they could deal with things here. Merc would get him back to Charlie for the healing he needed.

Then Merc noticed all of them were staring at him. He hadn't let on how much stronger he would be in a fight with the Fae. Or that their magic couldn't pin him down, block or hold him, even if it could burn or cause injury. But in fairness, he hadn't known that himself, until he tested it. Or the upper limits of his speed, which had made even the Fae unable to see his actions to remove Kane and Farida from their bonds.

He guessed he'd finally have to acknowledge he really was more angel than anything else. Fuck. While advantageous for this fight, he wasn't looking forward to admitting Marcellus was right.

However, it might give the senior angel a small smile, and he needed that, with his heart sick over his fortune teller's plight. Because of that, Merc supposed he would suffer the blow to his pride.

A thought struck him then, and he turned, trying to see, an absurd reaction, because even an angel couldn't twist his head around like an owl. He reached behind him, under the wing.

"It's still there," Lyssa said. His gaze snapped to her. "The burn has seared the design, but your flesh will heal and restore what's there. Nothing can remove a binding symbol on a servant's flesh except a removal of the three marks."

"Sometimes it doesn't even disappear if you become a vampire yourself," Jacob added. He met Lyssa's gaze and brushed a lock of hair from her bloodstained cheek.

A groan distracted them, a helpless flailing from one flaccid limb. Merc stalked over and picked up Pallas by the throat. The male was bloody, sweating, putrid. Merc had broken his body badly, but the bitch of immortality was he'd heal despite it. Pallas's eyes burned with hate.

"You are no incubus," he rasped.

"Yes, I am. But I'm something else, too." Merc's grip tightened. "You harmed my female. You took her parents from her."

What he felt wasn't just on Ruth's behalf. Elisa had given him a hug. His first platonic, affectionate, just-because hug. She'd whispered in his ear, "Take care of our girl." Like she believed he could. And would.

Pallas had no idea who he was talking about, but it didn't matter. Merc wasn't saying it for him. "I expect killing him and his supporters would cause problems with King Tabor?"

That question was directed to Lyssa, who'd come with Mason and Jacob to stand beside Merc. Daegan assisted Gideon to his feet, so they, too, could join them. "Are you getting tired of holding him up like that?" Maddock asked from the nearby stump.

"Not particularly." Merc shook the Fae like a baby rattle, and Pallas choked, blood and something more unsightly coming out of his mouth. "He's light. See?"

Lyssa looked not at all displeased with Pallas's discomfort, and her gaze had a reddish tint. The tip of a sharp fang was lengthening again.

"My lady?" Jacob spoke. "I believe Merc needs to know what you want done with him and his companions. The ones that are still alive."

She blinked, and her gaze returned to jade green. "It would go smoother if we had a sanction from King Tabor for it. Perhaps we turn them over to him and let him and Queen Rhoswen handle it."

"But this one is the leader. The one directly responsible for what happened on the island."

Merc glanced at Lyssa. She met his gaze, nodded. "Yes."

Merc returned his attention to Pallas. "It would be wise if you all stepped back," he said.

As Marcellus had taught him about being an angel, it had crossed Merc's mind, wondering if he could weave the incubus power into the angel's, in such a way that the balance the angel side protected was unaffected. A bringing together of darkness and light. Not in conflict with one another, but just the opposite.

He was happy to find out, on an entirely unwilling subject.

The two power sources met within him and circled, like snakes considering a mating dance. After a pause, they drew closer. Then closer. As they began to twine around one another, and determine how they fit, Merc laid his mental hands on them and helped. Then he took the merged power where he desired.

He moved it outside of him, up, twisting it around his arm like Medusa's serpents. Pallas felt it coming, saw it, his eyes widening. When it plunged into him, he cried out, a strangled, horrible noise. Merc didn't look away, watching with satisfaction and critical disinterest. The Fae's cheeks became sunken, his eyes more so, his lips thin and prominent.

What life energy he'd pulled forth held no appeal for him. Merc let it drift away on the wind, inert and useless. When he at last released Pallas and stepped back, the High Fae's limbs were no longer broken. He stood on his own two feet, swaying like a sapling. Upright, but subject to the whims of the breeze. His expression was vacant, his eyes empty.

"You healed his limbs," Lyssa murmured.

"I believe his own healing ability did that. It is exceptionally strong. His mind wasn't. It's gone and will not return. An example to the others while the Queen decides their fate."

He hoped Ruth approved of the compromise. "I'll help you transport them to the Fae world," he told Maddock, who seemed in a rare state of speechlessness. "And then I'm taking you to see Charlie. Or the inside of a hospital."

When Maddock pulled his gaze away from Pallas to answer, the words died on his lips. The others followed the direction of his gaze and similar expressions of astonishment or speculation gripped them.

"What is it?" Merc asked.

"I expect none of you is carrying a mirror," Maddock said dryly. He removed a compact from a pocket of his long coat, and winced as the movement pulled against his injured side. "Not for powdering my nose," he said at Gideon's smirk. "Useful for certain spell work."

He extended it to Merc, the mirror open so Merc could gaze down into it.

His eyes had changed. They were black, with a glimmering hint of silver. There were no whites left.

Like a full angel.