As the gate vanished, Liam snorted. “Too bad there’s not a damn thing Maeve can actually do to Siobhan.”
Conal winced at a familiar jab of guilt. If only there’d been something he could have done to save the kids thirty years ago without involving Maeve. Unfortunately, there was fuck-all a Changeling could do to a demigoddess. Only Maeve could have kept Siobhan from hurting her ten-year-old daughter. He’d been willing to do whatever it took to save Iona and his sisters. And now the bitch is after the twins again.
“We’ve got to get my sisters to safety. I’m going to need my sword.” Conal headed into the bedroom, Essus riding one shoulder. Helena trailed him, silent as a shadow, alert as a wolf.
He’d aimed for elegance when he’d decorated the house, and his bedroom was no exception. Two of his stepmother’s abstracts adorned the eggshell-white walls with exuberant splashes of color. The four-poster bed was cherry, its elegant lines matching the bureau and armoire. Darkbane hung in its scabbard, shoulder strap hooked over one post.
The minute his hand closed around the wrapped leather hilt, a familiar surge of power rolled over him, seductive and intoxicating. Unable to resist, Conal drew the weapon. As it whispered from its sheath, the long, intricately engraved blade burst into leaping currents of violet energy that rolled up and down its length in waves. Conal blew out a breath as he felt the tattoo on his cheek, normally invisible, began to burn with magical energy.
Darkbane enhanced his strength and allowed him to shield against spell attacks. It wasn’t Liam, but between it and Essus, he could command enough power to defend his sisters. And Helena, too, should it come to that. She’d risked a lot to save him, and he’d damn well make sure she didn’t suffer for it.
“That’s one of Maeve’s blades, isn’t it?” she asked. “I can almost hear the Mother’s voice in its song.”
He looked up. “Yeah, after Siobhan…” left me with psychic scars…”Maeve let me choose a weapon from her armory.” The Sidhe goddess forged everything from stilettos to battleaxes with her own hands, all of them in high demand by every king and hero in the Mageverse. He counted himself fortunate that she’d given him such a gift -- especially considering she’d included the three Familiars in the package. Essus, Danu and Finvarra had been protecting him and the twins ever since.
“You chose well,” Liam said in approval. “Isn’t that Darkbane?”
“Yeah.” He sheathed the great blade and shrugged into the sword belt, so the scabbard hung diagonally down his back. “Now I’ve got to break the news to my sisters that we’re targets again. Aislyn can telecommute -- she runs the Donovan Foundation.” He looked up to find Helena watching him steadily. “The trouble is Branwyn. She’s a reporter more than an executive, and she’s going to hate having a bodyguard.”
Helena huffed. “She’d hate being Siobhan’s ‘guest’ even more.”
* * *
Conal had to leave a message for Branwyn, but Aislyn was easier to reach. She agreed to meet them at her condominium in Atlanta’s Buckhead neighborhood.
Liam opened a gate, but Helena had to stop Conal before he could step through. “Let us go first to clear the house. Siobhan may have someone waiting.”
He nodded tightly, though something in his eyes said letting her take the lead offended his sense of chivalry. Well, you’re going to have to get over that, my Changeling friend.
Time to shift. She closed her eyes, centered herself, and reached for the roiling burn that was her link to the Mageverse. The hot, bright pain of transformation blazed up in her chest like a bonfire and raged through her body from heart to fingers and toes. The world jolted and shrunk. Suddenly scent flooded her nostrils. When she opened her eyes, she found herself towering over Conal. He looked up at her and flinched, ever so slightly.
What the hell do you expect? He spent today getting tortured by werewolves. You’re furry. Get over it. Forcing herself to ignore the sting of rejection, Helena stalked through the gate, moving quickly, shotgun at the ready.
Swinging the long weapon in arcs, she paced quickly through Aislyn’s condo. It was an elegant, airy place, all white streamlined furniture and lush, colorful fabric throws. Huge photos hung on oyster-white walls, depicting grinning kids playing basketball or planting vegetables in urban gardens. A lanky Black graffiti artist wielded a spray can as he turned a run-down building into a canvass for rising hope. A grinning old man in a Vietnam Vet cap ladled stew from an enormous kettle into a teenager’s bowl. All Donovan Foundation efforts.
The apartment also smelled of cat. Not as in a litter box needed changing -- more clean fur and alien magic. Another of Maeve’s Familiars. What she didn’t smell was werewolf. Thank God.
Helena padded into the main bedroom and then paused. The antique furniture was carved dark walnut, with a mirrored vanity and bureau. The wide bed was draped in white lace and living vines. She eyed it. “You do realize hiding doesn’t work with a werewolf.”
A voice came from beneath the bed in a surprisingly deep female growl. “Get the fuck out.”
Liam spoke up. “Danu, it’s Liam and Helena. Maeve has assigned us to protect Conal and his family. Including you.”
Something small, white and very fluffy shot out from underneath the bed. Huge blue eyes stared up at them. “Why?” The cat’s voice climbed at least an octave in anxiety. “Is Conal all right?”
“He’s fine,” Helena said.
“Now,” Liam added.
Danu immediately caught the implications of his grim tone. “But he wasn’t before?” She had an accent as thick, sweet and Southern as pecan pie. “What happened?”
“Siobhan.”
Danu hissed, her ears flattening, her long, bushy tail lashing in rage. “That cunt!”
Helena suppressed the impulse to laugh. “Gotta agree there. Come on, Aislyn’s on her way.” She turned, almost tripping as the cat darted past her clawed feet. The little Familiar could move with surprising speed. Apparently, she was more fur than fat. And that was just one of the ways Danu’s appearance was deceptive.
Maeve told Helena once that a thousand years ago, she’d had a vision that spirits from an alien magical universe would soon arrive. She’d been waiting with her menagerie when the dimensional gate opened and the beings arrived… and promptly begun to die. The Mageverse’s magic was too alien for them to survive without living hosts.
The Mother had used her power to fuse the spirits and her animals. The result had been powerful Familiars with human-level intelligence and magical abilities. She’d treated them like her children ever since. Maeve did adore the Donovans if she’d given them three of those precious Familiars.
“We’re clear, Conal,” Helena called. “You can come in now.” She reached the living room just as he stepped through the gate, Essus on his shoulder, Darkbane shedding violet sparks in his hand.
“Conal!” Danu raced to launch herself at him in a weightless bound. He caught her neatly with his free hand, and the cat stretched to rub her head frantically against his jaw. “Oh, what did she do to you? Are you all right?” Shooting a glare at Essus, she snapped, “You were supposed to protect him, you useless feather duster!”