| |
I wake slowly, blinking and stretching and wondering why I feel so rested. I can’t remember the last time I had such a good night’s sleep.
Wait.
The abominations. The city street...
Memory rushes back in and my eyes pop open as I sit up in a rush, staring wildly around the room. I’m in my own bed. How did I get here?
I put a hand to the back of my head, feeling for lumps or blood, or even any tenderness, but it all feels perfectly normal. As do my ribs. I take a tentative breath in, checking for pain or discomfort from broken bones and puncture wounds, but everything seems to be working as it should.
Did the attack actually happen? It felt so real. Surely, it couldn’t have been a nightmare?
From behind the screen that separates my bed from the rest of the studio apartment, a throat clears. I jump out of bed.
“You’re awake.” The deep voice is full of relief.
Rhodri.
“How long did I sleep?” I fold back the screen, expecting the fae prince, only to find my apartment full of people.
I take a step back, then look down to make sure I am actually properly clothed. Might not be my Sunday best, but at least all the essential bits are covered with a tee-shirt and fleecy leggings. Not what I was wearing when I left work. I hope it was Rhodri who changed me. Out of all of them in the room, he’s the only one who has seen me naked.
I stare around at the group, mentally identifying them all without needing introductions.
“Rhodri, Tarrien. And, Luc.” I turn to the two women among the group, perched together on my sofa. Two women who look so much like me that there’s no question as to who they must be. Unless, of course, these are other half-siblings I haven’t yet heard of. “I assume you two must be Indigo and Aleah?”
The one wearing a slinky black dress, high heeled sandals, and bright red lipstick lifts her hand. “Indie. Pleased to meet you in person at last, Maewen.”
I nod, wishing I at least had shoes on. Everything about Indie is perfection personified, from the top of her flowing dark hair down to her red-painted toenails.
“And of course, that makes me Aleah.”
The other one has no make-up on, and a slightly softer look about her than Indie. She is wearing jeans and a tee-shirt and casual boots. She sports a shy smile. I feel slightly less intimidated by my country-dwelling relative.
She steps forward and extends a hand. “Nice to meet you, sis.”
Sis? Feeling dazed and confused, I take Aleah’s hand and shake. It is quite disconcerting to look into the face of someone who resembles your own reflection.
Make that two “someones”. I slant another glance at Indie and find her studying me with undisguised curiosity. The three of us could easily pass for triplets, though I know from my phone discussion with Indie that she is the oldest at thirty-one, followed by me at thirty, and then Aleah is the baby of us all at twenty-nine.
Mother didn’t muck around in popping us all out one after the other. Not for the first time, I wonder why the banshee Renna felt the need to create so many of us. Along with that is the underlying question as to why she never bothered to stick around and raise us. She visited me once, when I was young, but that was the extent of her parenting. That, however, is a question for another time. Right now, there are more pressing concerns.
“Not wanting to be rude or anything, but someone better explain what’s going on. Why are you all hanging out in my apartment watching me sleep? And, for that matter, how the hell did I get here, when last time I was conscious I was trapped beneath a dead headless shifter, wondering if one or both of my lungs had been punctured and whether that, or my head wound, would kill me first? Did one of you magic me better? And were those abominations lying in wait for me, outside work?”
“We think so, boss,” Luc Durand says. “I suggest you take a seat. We all have a lot to discuss.”
“No shit.” I look around. All the available seats are taken. My studio is not designed for this many visitors.
I back up and perch on the edge of the bed.
Rhodri, who has been standing near the now-folded-back screen, shoots me a questioning look and, when I nod, takes a seat beside me. His body warmth instantly comforts me. At least it does, until he opens his mouth.
“Technically we weren’t watching you sleep, by the way,” he says. “That would be creepy, wouldn’t it? We were sitting here waiting for you to wake, but we did put up the screen to give you some privacy in the meantime.”
I spear him with a stare. “Great. Thanks for that. Now spill. What is going on?”
Indie crosses one elegant leg over the other. “Rhodri brought you back here after the attack, and called us all. Tarrien used his warrior magic to heal you.”
There’s a touch of pride in her voice as she states the latter, and I notice she has her fingers entwined with Tarrien who is seated beside her.
Tarrien gives her an indulgent look. “I’m good at that, aren’t I? I’ve done it for all three of you, now.”
I manage not to roll my eyes but I notice Luc is not so circumspect as me. The vamp detective and I share a brief grin. The truth is, physically I feel damn good. Better than I have in years, so I guess I’ll have to allow Tarrien a bit of self-congratulation because he does appear to deserve it.
“Thank you for healing me, Tarrien,” I say. “Good job.”
Everyone seems to relax a notch, even Rhodri beside me, and I wonder if I really am so grouchy and unapproachable that they thought I would be mad about being saved from injury and possible death.
Jeez. I know I can be prickly, but I don’t think I’m that much of a monster. Am I?
Come to think of it, I owe Rhodri some thanks, too.
“You saved my life, back there with the abominations. No way I could have taken out that were before it got me. Thank you.”
Rhodri looks pleased, and a thought occurs to me.
“How did you know I was in trouble? Or was it merely coincidental timing, that you arrived when you did?“
“Ah.” Rhodri shrugs as if trying to loosen his shoulder muscles.
The tension in the room notches up.
I narrow my eyes at him. “Well?”
“I...um...well...I planted a tracking mike on your shirt. I was still in Faerie when I heard that thing say it was going to take you.”
“You did what?”
Luc Durand stands and moves in that fluid way vamps have, closer to Rhodri and me on the bed. “Steady, boss. Remember his action saved your life. He only wants to protect you. We all do.”
As fast as my temper flared, it deflates into nothing. Luc is right. And Rhodri looks suitably wary. He knows he crossed a line, there.
“Just ask me next time, okay?” I say.
Luc moves back to squeeze in beside Aleah.
“I will,” Rhodri says. “I give you my word, Maewen.”
He lays a hand on my thigh as if to confirm his sincerity. I imagine his fingers traipsing their way further up my leg until he reaches my mound and begins to explore more fully. Stop, I tell my brain. Stop thinking about that, in a room full of people you barely know. Concentrate on what really matters.
I must communicate something of my conflicted thoughts, because Rhodri squeezes my leg briefly and then removes his hand altogether. But the memory of his fingers on my flesh, even through the thick fleece of my track pants, remains for a while.
“After I called Tarrien and brought you back here, we contacted Luc,” Rhodri says. “While Tarrien worked to heal you, Luc arranged for Indie and Aleah to get here, too. It’s time we all work together to stop this threat. And we have a way to do that, Mae. Tarrien’s dad contacted him again last night.”
Now they have my attention.
“You could have led with that!” At their gaping looks, I try to soften my tone. “Okay, I guess you would have, if I’d let you. Tarrien, can you catch me up please? I feel as if you all know more than me at the moment.”
I don’t like that feeling at all.
Tarrien unclasps his hand from Indie’s, and leans forward. “Father wanted to know more about my protection duties, particularly as it pertains to banshee-human hybrids.”
My heart thumps hard. The threat is real, particularly for the females in this room, and maybe for other siblings out there I have yet to discover.
“What did you tell him?” I ask.
Tarrien glances at Rhodri before he answers, as if seeking permission to speak. Sometimes I forget that Rho is a royal, and therefore Tarrien’s boss. Rhodri gives a tiny nod, and Tarrien continues.
“I told him I had been tasked by the prince to guard all three of you, and it was proving difficult given how different you all are from each other and how you all tend to want to go off on diverse tangents.”
I frown. “That’s not good. I need him to focus on me, not...” It seems ridiculous to be shy saying their names. I swallow and finish, “I do not want him focusing on Indie or Aleah.”
Indie sits forward. “We’re not delicate freaking flowers, Maewen.”
Aleah moves on the couch, clearly not to be outdone by her half-sister’s attitude. “No, we’re not. Indie’s right. We’re half-banshee. We’re stronger than you think. And I want to take down these bastards who killed my dad. And my friends.”
Something shifts within me. I’m not the only one of us who has lost people in the past. Of course, I already know that on a rational level, but somehow, Aleah’s words reinforce the fact that my losses are not unique.
“You’re right. I’m sorry about your dad, Aleah.” My voice is gruff. “And your best friend, Indie.”
My songstress half-sister mentioned what happened to her friend Sienna when we spoke on the phone. Both women acknowledge my words with a nod.
“We’ll stop them,” I say in what I hope is an encouraging tone. “One banshee hybrid might be tough, but imagine the three of us working together. There’ll be no stopping us.”
