Precise oaths, p.19
Precise Oaths, page 19
Liliana hesitated a moment to make sure Janice actually had stopped. “I have not yet met Ben Harper. Pete is very honorable. Pete was helping Sergeant Giovanni on a case last night in Raleigh, not cheating on his boyfriend.”
“A case, huh? Those women who murdered the missing soldiers? I saw on the news this morning that the Fort Liberty CID working with Fayetteville and Raleigh police caught them, but they were killed in some sort of firefight on the roof. I don’t suppose you helped on that case too? Is that why Pete didn’t die and you’re not so fine this morning?”
The spider seer blinked. Janice Willoughby sometimes gave the impression with her rapid-fire speech and high energy levels that she lacked intelligence. Liliana knew that impression was false, but Janice’s quick wit still surprised her now and again. “I made sure that Pete would not die before your husband needs him.”
“That’s…that’s just…” Janice swallowed loud enough that Liliana could hear it over the phone.
Normally, Liliana looked at people with her fourth eyes while she talked to them on her phone, but right now, her head hurt too much to open any more eyes. All she really wanted to do was close the two she had open.
“Thank you,” Janice said softly. “I, um, I just, thank you.”
Janice’s gratitude made Liliana uncomfortable. She had not saved Pete to help the Willoughbys. “Pete is my friend. I would not let him die if I could do anything to prevent it.”
“Of course you wouldn’t. He’s lucky to have a friend like you.”
“I am lucky to have a friend like him.”
Janice chuckled. “And I thought he was dangerous.”
“He is very dangerous.” Liliana had watched the red wolf rip a widow spider’s belly open with his bare hands last night.
Janice laughed outright. “Well, you know what I mean.”
Liliana did not know what she meant, but decided her best bet to get off the phone any time soon was not to ask. “I have an opening for an appointment day after tomorrow sometime between 10 AM and 2 PM. Will that work for you?”
“Sure, Madame Anna. Put me down for noon.”
“Done. Goodbye.” Liliana hung up. She had to pull the big book back out to write down the new appointment.
When the book was safely back on its shelf, she mixed some of the white powder with a tall glass of cool water and went back to bed.
She had only just barely survived saving Pete’s life once. Later, when her wounds were fully healed, she would have to find a way to help Pete avoid the other death she had foreseen when he protected Lou Willoughby.
Before that, there was something else she needed to do.
But not today.
It was her last thought before the medicine took her into a blessedly pain-free sleep.
Chapter 17
The Prince And The Old Oak
Near midnight after another day that Liliana had been forced to reschedule appointments by her inability to open her fourth eyes without dizziness and pain, Liliana crouched uncomfortably on top of a streetlight in front of Janice Willoughby’s house, holding her injured arm close. In her good hand, she held a line of her fine silk that ran to the ground and ended in a loop strategically placed, nearly invisible in the stark light and shadow beneath the streetlight.
Her injuries caused her constant irritation, especially the headache and the shoulder, which ached just from the weight of her arm. It should be in a sling, but she didn’t want her weakness to be visible tonight. The healing stab wound in her side itched maddeningly. The gash on her face had sealed shut at least, although one of her first and third eyes were partially swollen shut from it.
The light shining down from the streetlight made her imperceptible to the tall prince and the curly-haired wolf-kin with the embossed leather collar. They would have to stare into the light to see her, and she remained as motionless as the pole so as not to draw their attention.
She felt through the pole the gut-level vibration as the Fae colonel called the Wolfhound to him with a Latin command steeped in earth magic.
She watched curiously, with her first, second, and third eyes as he transformed into his tall, elegant demi-stone form, like something a master sculptor created from a giant dark jewel. The side of his face looked as if some idiot tried to sand his skin with a stone file the roughness of a cheese grater, leaving ugly, sharp-edged imperfections in the otherwise glass-smooth surface. The shifting shadows that wreathed the Fae as he spoke to the Wolfhound weren’t truly black as they had seemed in her earlier vision. Watching up this close, her second and third pair of eyes both recognized pure earth power. The Green in its darkest midnight shade, unseelie Green.
Watching the scene play out in front of her in reality, rather than in future possibility, the dark beauty of the man wreathed in earth power dazzled her enough that she almost missed the moment she should act.
As the Wolfhound on the sidewalk licked blood off his mouth, his canine face twisting from shock to snarling rage, Liliana flipped her line slightly to get the end to come up, then yanked the loop tight around the werewolf’s ankle.
When the wolf-kin leapt toward the startled obsidian prince’s throat, his outstretched claws stopped inches from polished stone skin. He yelped as he fell, stretched out facedown to the earth at the prince’s feet.
Despite his surprise, Colonel Bennet wasted no time planting a boot on the back of the Wolfhound’s neck to hold him down. He waved his hand, and the roots of the great oak writhed up, grabbing the frantically fighting werewolf.
The Sidhe prince stepped back to let the roots of the old oak tree have better access.
When the werewolf opened his mouth to scream, a root went into his open mouth, muffling the sound. It continued through and came out the back of the still feebly struggling wolf-kin’s neck. Blood soaked into the earth and vanished.
In a few seconds, the werewolf was gone, the Willoughbys’ lawn grew green and lush, and the old oak settled back to providing a sturdy anchor for the Willoughby children’s tire swing.
The Fae prince leaned casually against the trunk, but Liliana could see the tremble in his free hand.
It had been a display of incredible power, but not an easy one. Colonel Bennet no doubt sought to hide weakness, since he had no idea who aided him or what they might want from him in return.
Liliana’s third eyes were very nearsighted. They couldn’t really see much of his mind or soul aura at this distance, especially not with the potent writhing aura of pure dark Green still playing around his legs. The earth’s soul shone deep and powerful enough to dwarf any other, more subtle colors, like the sun hiding stars.
Liliana dropped gratefully from her uncomfortable perch on top of the streetlight, surreptitiously holding her elbow with her other hand until her legs bent to absorb the shock. It still hurt, but hopefully, her weakness didn’t show. She stepped into the circle of light but stayed warily on the concrete sidewalk. He probably could not bring the old tree to life again tonight, but she wasn’t taking any chances.
He nodded to her, a half-bow with a pained expression and a flash of red anger glowing in his eyes. “Thank you. Your intervention probably saved my life.”
“You expected the Wolfhound who served your family to submit, not attack. He surprised you. You wouldn’t have had time to defend yourself.”
He waved a large hand, carved from a dark, living translucent jewel, an echo of the deep Green shimmering under the surface as if the earth’s soul flowed within him. “And you aided me, even though you’re already injured, I see.” The last was said in a tone of exasperated irritation.
Liliana put a hand to the gash on her cheek self-consciously. She could hide her more severe injuries, but that one was obvious to anyone looking. “The assassin chose tonight to attack. I did not have the option to help on a night when I wasn’t injured.”
He huffed a chuckle. “I suppose not.” The red glow of anger didn’t fade. The Fae had rules about that sort of thing. The very strict, codified, black-and-white rules were far easier for the spider-kin to follow than the nebulous, often contradictory rules of social interaction among other races. It was very simple. If she saved his life, especially if it was difficult and cost her pain, he owed her a favor. By thanking her, no matter how much it angered him, he did the honorable thing and acknowledged the debt.
She could ask almost anything of him now.
But she hadn’t done it to get anything from him like a lesser Fae would, or to one up him like another Sidhe would. “I needed the assassin stopped. I couldn’t kill the Wolfhound with the defensive magic in his collar. You could.” She gave him back the same head nod and half-bow, minus the anger. “Thank you for that.”
Surprise shot the sharp ridges over his eyes that took the place of eyebrows up high, and the red glow of anger in his eyes vanished. By thanking him back, she negated his debt. Obsidian shoulders dropped an inch, releasing tension in muscles made of living stone. “That is generous of you.” He couldn’t thank her again, but the words were the Fae equivalent, turning gratitude into flattery, without implying debt.
She bowed to accept the compliment.
“I had hoped to speak to him,” he commented with mild regret. “I’d like to know who sent him, and why.”
“Your sister, Aurore, sent him to kill Pete.”
“Ah,” he said. “I suspected as much.” He looked at her curiously. He did not try to get closer this time, still leaning against the tree. In addition to giving him time to recover, he also let her keep the distance she’d chosen between them. She appreciated the courtesy, and the indication she wouldn’t have to fight him tonight. She was not in any shape to fight anyone. Neither, probably, was he after his expenditure of magical energy. “Last time I saw you, you told me you were going to kill Pete yourself if I didn’t call him off. Did you get those injuries from fighting Pete?” He gestured to the gash on her cheek.
“I was not injured when I fought Pete, other than my feet got very cold and a little scraped, and one of Siobhan’s bullets grazed my arm a little. He wasn’t injured either, aside from a few bruises and a small bite. I got these wounds fighting at Pete’s side. I convinced him I did not murder your soldiers. But when I told him he should talk to Lady Daphne, the widow spider, I didn’t know she was protecting the real murderer. I was injured fighting widow spiders at his side.”
“He never mentioned that in any of his reports. But I did notice some suspiciously glossed-over aspects, and I saw you on some video surveillance footage we confiscated. Pete is usually better about telling me everything.”
“I asked him not to mention me in anything official. I prefer that the government doesn’t know I exist. He respected my request.” After a moment, she added, “I like Pete.”
The startled, barely there smile on the obsidian face with the silver needle teeth should have been cold, even frightening. All the expressions she’d seen on that stone face up to now had been. Instead, the tiny curve of polished stone lips was a flash of warmth and humor that had Liliana smiling back. “I like Pete too,” the obsidian prince with the crown of silver horns said, his melodious deep voice amused.
“Can you please leave me out of the official reports also? My species is nearly extinct because when officials know we exist, they keep killing us.”
The tall, crowned prince looked down at the place where the assassin that nearly killed him vanished under the earth. “I will honor your wish in this. Pete’s report already doesn’t mention you. I’ll make sure the footage that includes you gets accidentally erased.”
Liliana knew better than to thank a Fae. “That is very generous of you,” she said, with feeling, and smiled up at him. She did not feel safe enough yet to step onto a living lawn with the powerful Fae, but she wished he would come closer.
They stood there smiling at each other for a few seconds, and his tiny warm smile broadened. “Do you happen to know why my sister sent an assassin to kill Pete?” the Fae colonel asked her.
“Yes, I know.” Liliana wasn’t sure if she should tell him. Aurore wanted Pete’s enchanted sword enough to send an assassin to kill him for it. She didn’t want Pete’s powerful protector to feel the same desire.
The prince sighed, his smile vanishing. Another Fae would bargain with him for the information.
She hated the way the idea of bargaining for information sucked every trace of joy out of his face, making it hard and cold again. As he opened his mouth, no doubt to ask her what she wanted in exchange for the answer to his question, she blurted out, “He has a sword.” So much for deciding if he should know or not. “Aurore Principessa wants it. The Wolfhound was meant to kill him and his human beloved and steal it.”
Colonel Bennet’s face of living stone shifted smoothly like oily black liquid, first to a flash of startled pleasure, then to a puzzled expression. “Why would she send an assassin to this continent to kill Pete and steal his sword?”
Liliana shrugged. “The assassin didn’t know. Neither do I.”
He nodded, the silver crown that was part of his head making the motion more pronounced and regal like the movements of a noble stag. Then he shifted.
His body shrank to a size that was merely tall rather than giant. A face of soft, deep brown flesh replaced hard black stone. The silver horn crown shrank into his skull and vanished, replaced by a buzz of coarse black hair with a streak of white on one side.
He took a deep breath and stood straight, dropping the hand from the tree trunk that had been holding a lot of his weight. His hands still trembled a little, but he was beginning to recover.
She understood the rules of Fae bargaining and had done her best to sidestep them, but she also needed information. Since she had given him valuable information for free, maybe he would do the same. “The Wolfhounds serve your family, and their main purpose is as a defense against Celtic wolves. Why would you kill one to protect a red wolf?”
Colonel Bennet’s human face went blank, looking more like a statue than his mobile demi-stone face had. “I did mention that I like Pete.”
Liliana smiled wistfully at the smoke snake of power coiled around his right knee. It was truth, but not an answer to her question.
It was a lot to ask of a Fae prince to not act like a Fae prince.
She sighed, disappointed, and turned away from him. She had given away her only bargaining chips. If he wasn’t willing to give her the information, she had nothing left to use to pay for it.
She walked down the concrete sidewalk back toward her house, holding up the elbow of her bad arm to ease the pain in her shoulder.
His voice behind her wasn’t loud, but it carried to her clearly, vibrating with the depth of earth magic and the ring of a very precise oath. “I will not be bound by the factions and blood feuds of the Old World.”
She turned to look behind her with a delighted smile, but the handsome Fae colonel was gone, a swirl of dark Green settled back into the lush grass where he had been.
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And don’t miss the next book of the Liliana and the Fae of Fayetteville series coming soon!
Until then read MIRROR WITCH, by City Owl Author, Phoebe Walker. Turn the page for a sneak peek!
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Sneak Peek of Mirror Witch
By Phoebe Walker
Sometimes finding humans was too easy.
The werewolf looked across the street into the window of the shop where his quarry was working, squinting past the bright neon signs. Tarot. Psychic. Spells. Its owner had chosen to call it “Other Worlds Emporium,” which made him snort. It was as subtle as a frat bro doused in Axe body spray.
This woman had taken the Council eight years to find? It had taken Booker and his team only a month—but he’d worked his ass off in that span of time. Sure, she was now reading tarot in a New Age shop, like she had been before she disappeared, but she’d managed to stay elusive. She lived off the grid, working for cash, staying a short while in each place, never more than six months—but Booker had figured out her pattern, just in time to catch her here in Ste. Genevieve, Illinois. Another river town, just like all the others.
Most humans were just mobilized patterns, as far as he could see. This one was no exception.
Josephine Ellen Murphy. Born in St. Louis, raised by her grandparents after her mother’s death, put into the foster system at age 16, finished high school while living in an undisclosed location. Held a few unassuming jobs, then became a practicing Wiccan reading tarot in shops and over the phone. No criminal record, no legal problems.
She would never have ended up on his radar—or the Council’s—if she hadn’t gotten mixed up with the Fenris.
Booker entered Other Worlds Emporium with a feigned nonchalance, but the clerk behind the counter still froze in place when she saw him. It was a hard sell, he knew—werewolves may look human sometimes, but they weren’t, even when they tried to act like it. He couldn’t help but sense the clerk’s unease, as he did any time he affected a human’s emotional state. The scent changed, or at least that’s how he interpreted it.
The clerk took a step backward when he moved toward her, but when he smiled at her, flashing what he knew was a matching set of dimples, she smiled back, the tension easing from her muscles and her scent.
“Hi there!” she chirped. “Is there anything I can help you with?”
“Yes,” he said, keeping his voice even and friendly. “I came in for a tarot reading. Josephine Murphy is here today, isn’t she?”
