“He did,” Conal said. “Now let me sheathe this sword before I impale somebody on it.”
The cat huffed and leaped down, and he slid Darkbane into its back scabbard with the ease of a man who could do it in his sleep. Even as the blade clicked home, the apartment door flew open. Aislyn raced into the room in a whirlwind of agitated magic. “Oh, God, Conal!”
With an alarmed screech, Essus abandoned Conal’s shoulder to wing around the room as Aislyn threw herself at Conal. He caught her, hugging her so hard she grunted, his eyes squeezed shut in relief.
He never expected to see her again, Helena realized. It made her heart ache for her own family, whom she hadn’t seen since Christmas.
“I’m all right.” Gently, Conal pulled back a few inches. “And we’re all going to stay that way.” His voice held cold determination.
Aislyn put her hands on either side of his face so she could stare deeply into his eyes, as if trying to read the truth. Whatever she saw there made her suck in a breath. “It was bad, wasn’t it?”
He nodded toward Helena and Liam with a tight smile. “It would have been a lot worse if not for Maeve’s people. They took the bastards out.”
“You got three of them yourself,” Helena said. “Under the circumstances, that was pretty impressive.”
“Jesus.” Aislyn swallowed, looking sick. She was as beautiful as her brother was handsome, with a heart-shaped face and her own pair of dimples. Her eyes were the same unearthly violet as his, though her hair was a cascade of platinum curls that foamed around her slender shoulders. She wore a calf-length wrap dress in swirling royal blue silk that made the most of her lean, long-legged figure. Strappy yellow sandals displayed pedicured toes, nails painted with red polish.
The chime of an incoming text sounded. Conal released her to pluck his phone off his belt, read the screen, and swipe a thumb over it.
“What’s going on, Conal?” a woman’s tight voice demanded, sounding remarkably like Aislyn’s.
“Are you alone?
There was a long pause. “Oh, hell, what now?”
* * *
This time Liam’s gate transported them to Donovan Cable News’ Manhattan headquarters. DCN’s sixty-story blue-glass tower sliced toward the sky, curving like a katana. Five years among the Fairies had left Helena jaded when it came to gorgeous architecture, but even she was impressed. Donovan’s penthouse occupied the tip of the sword, offering a dazzling view of the city through its floor-to-ceiling windows. Unfortunately, nobody was in the mood to admire the scenery.
“Siobhan gets crazier every year,” Branwyn Donovan growled, one hand absently stroking Finvarra. The two-foot-long Chinese dragon wrapped around her throat like a scarf, a brilliant counterpart to her camera-ready ensemble of peach silk blouse, a wide white belt, and skinny yellow slacks. A chunky necklace accessorized the outfit, its pink stones clashing with the Familiar’s scarlet frill. Not that it mattered, since a glamour kept the dragon invisible to mortals.
“Jesus feckin’ Christ,” Finvarra growled. An iridescent sheen rippled over his green scales, violet shading into gold as he lifted his long triangular head. The bright red frill ran from his nose to the tip of his restlessly twitching tail. The little dragon had the thickest Irish accent Helena had ever heard and a tendency to swear in Gaelic. Which would have seemed weird, given the Chinese thing, but Maeve’s buddies adopted the accents of whoever took their fancy on Netflix Night. Which explained Liam and Taken.
Branwyn ran a soothing hand over Finvarra’s twitching tail. “Think Maeve can get her to back off?”
“I doubt it,” Conal said. “There’s not much Maeve can do to her, thanks to the geas, and Siobhan bloody well knows it.” His expression went stony with determination. “That’s why you need bodyguards.”
The reporter glowered. She and Aislyn were identical twins, though her hair was as black as their brother’s. Evidently Aislyn’s extravagant blonde waterfall of curls was a dye job. “And how the hell do you expect me to explain a bodyguard to interviewees?”
Conal shrugged. “Give her a boom mic and have her run audio.”
Oh, hell no. “I need my hands free,” Helena protested. “In any case, you won’t be going on interviews. I can’t guard all three of you if you separate.”
“That’s a nonstarter,” Branwyn said, eying her coolly. “Look, I’m a combat journalist. People have been trying to kill me for years. I can take care of myself.”
Finvarra stretched his long neck until he could look her in the eye. “Not against werewolves, you can’t, and I can’t protect you either. Remember what happened with that great hulking gobshite, Justice?”
Branwyn winced and admitted reluctantly, “Fair point. I thought he was going to eat you.”
“I thought he was going to eat both of us.”
Helena’s brows shot up. “Are you talking about Bill Justice?” He was the werewolf who’d helped her survive the Bite. Without him, her own magic might well have incinerated her. “Justice wouldn’t eat anybody. Especially innocents.”
“Yeah, well, he threatened to chow down on Finvarra.” Branwyn scowled. Even that looked good on her. “How were we supposed to know he was bluffing?”
“Well, you did shoot video of them back when the Magekind were still in the broom closet,” Essus pointed out from Conal’s shoulder.
“I wasn’t going to out them,” she protested. “I was just trying to get Conal more information on what was going on.”
“Yeah, but they didn’t know that.” Her brother paused, lips pursed in thought.
Damn, Helena wanted to kiss that mouth. He’d probably run screaming. Which was a damn shame, and not just because of the Burning Moon. Even half dead from torture, Conal had picked up Liam and run to her rescue. She remembered the flashing glimpse she’d gotten of him -- half-naked, blood-splattered, wild-eyed, long black hair flying -- killing every werewolf in his path despite his horrific wounds. That was either heroism or sheer, bat-shit crazy.
“Maybe we need to enlist more help,” Finvarra suggested. “Adam might do it.”
“Could work,” Branwyn agreed. “These Warlock’s Wrath assholes are just as big a pain in the ass for Arthur as they are for us. They blew his PR campaign right out of the water when they killed that actress.”
“Do you have a way to contact him?” Conal asked.
“Yeah, and so do you.” She plucked her phone off her belt and held it up. “I’m sure you have his number.”
His brows lifted. “AT&T has cell towers on Mageverse Earth?”
Branwyn rolled her eyes. “No, but that’s why they call it magic.” She started dialing the phone. As it began to ring, she hit speaker.
A familiar voice answered two beats later. “Hey, ‘Wyn. If you’re looking for a quote on that…”
“A team of werewolves kidnapped my brother and tried to kill him.”
“Shit! Is he okay?” Adam’s voice had gone cold and tight. Conal was gratified to hear concern in it.
“He’s fine now. But he almost wasn’t. Siobhan has hired Warlock’s Wrath to go after him. Apparently she’s decided that’s the perfect way to resolve her mommy issues.”