Chapter Thirty-Five

Gregorio turned around in her seat and grabbed my arm. She held on tightly. She thought she knew what I was thinking, but she didn't. I was mortal, and I knew it. But I was also part brownie and part human, which meant I could do magic inside the car. I could do every bit of magic I had, and not suffer. I didn't want to get out of the car. I needed to lure Cel to the car.

If I could get him close enough, I could kill him but be surrounded by metal, so that his magic could not harm me. We could turn the trap against him. If only we could figure out how to lure him to me. If I'd thought of it before Doyle and Rhys got out of the car, they would have done it, but I'd been too emotional. Goddess, help me think of something!

"Gregorio," I said, "I need to lure the prince to me, to this car."

"Are you crazy? He's making people bleed from a distance."

"We both have a version of the hand of blood. It runs in the family. But magic cannot touch us in the metal of this car. But my magic can go out."

"Why can your magic work in the car, and his can't?"

"I'm part human. My magic works here, just like yours and Dawson's."

She looked at her driver. The two women exchanged a long look. "If we get her killed, the least that will happen to us is being given a dishonorable discharge," said Corporal Lance. "We'd be lucky not to be brought up on charges."

Gregorio turned back to me. "Lance is right."

"Listen to the screams. Your men are dying. My men are in danger. We can stop this, because once the prince is dead, his allies will melt away into the night, because if he can't take the throne, there's no point to this fight. They're fighting to kill me and win the throne for their choice. If we take away their choice, we take away their reason to fight."

The women exchanged another look. A particularly piteous scream rose in the silence between gunfire and magic. It was the sound of death. It was the sound of mortal life being ripped away.

"If I were willing to do this, how would I lure him?" Gregorio asked. The moment she said it, I knew she'd do it, if I could just think of a way to bring him to me.

I spoke, thinking aloud, because I had no clear plan. "He wants to find me. He knows by now that my guards are not with me in the car. If I were him and his allies, I'd find me."

A mist formed on the other side of the road in the fringe of trees. It wasn't a wide road, and before I could even voice a warning, figures appeared out of a mist that shouldn't have been there, and hadn't been there just moments before. I should have remembered that I was still on faerie land, and wishes can come true. I'd wanted Cel to find me, not all of his warriors. Be specific when you wish in faerie, and be careful what you wish for.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Siobhan stepped out of the mist, her long white hair haloing around her like spider silk caught in the wind. She was close enough that I could see the runes carved on her white armor. I knew that the armor seemed to be carved of old bone, but I had seen her on the dueling sands, and knew that the "bone" was as hard as any metal. The sword she held in her hand was also white. The blade was a killing blade, even if I'd been immortal. It was overkill for me. Then she held her blade up so it caught the moonlight. Blood gleamed on the edge of the bone blade. It might have been the blood of human soldiers, but then again, it might not.

She meant me to think it was the blood of my men, my lovers, the fathers of my children. She meant the sight of that blood to be a blow that would soften me up for the real blow to come. But I would have known if Doyle's blood decorated her blade. I would have known if Rhys had been touched. As much as I valued Sholto and Mistral, my heart would survive their deaths.

"Shit," Gregorio said. I felt her start to cast a spell, a prickling build of power. It was a pale thing, but very real.

"Don't," I said. "I know what to do."

"Are you insane?" the driver asked. "Look at them."

I glanced at the other soldiers with Siobhan. In their armor, they looked more like Seelie sidhe. Their colors were silver and gold, but there was also armor that seemed to be made of leaves, bark, fur, and things that humans had no words for. The Unseelie had kept closer to their origins, and not traded everything for metal and jewels. I recognized some of the soldiers, but some I had never seen in full armor. But they all stood behind Siobhan, not in front of her. Kill her and the rest would be leaderless, a snake without a head.

"I grew up seeing them," I said finally.

I concentrated on Siobhan, she who had been Cel's right hand for longer than any remembered. She whom Doyle feared, and the Darkness feared almost nothing. But some magics are no respecter of power; they will kill a king as quickly as a beggar.

I lowered my window. She called out to me, "The blood of your Darkness decorates my blade."

I unbuckled my seat belt, and came to my knees, unsheathing Aben-dul as I moved. The odd hilt with its carved horrors fit my hand as if it had waited forever for my fingers to grip it. It came smoothly, like drawing silk across the skin. I pointed the blade at her.

She laughed. "You surprised me when you used the hand of flesh on Rozenwyn and Pascoe, but I know to stay out of reach now, Princess. I don't need to get within reach of that little hand of yours. I can kill you from a distance, and free faerie of your mortal taint. We will put a true prince on the throne this night, and your challenge will be forgotten."

Rozenwyn and Pascoe had been twins, and maybe that had caused the hand of flesh to combine them into one mass. It had been one of the most horrible things I'd ever seen. Horrible enough that Siobhan had offered up her sword, and surrendered to me and my guards.

"She's bluffing," I said aloud for the soldiers' benefit. "She would have to drag me from the car to work magic, and she won't touch me."

"Why not?" Gregorio asked.

"She fears the hand of flesh."

"What is that, the hand of flesh?"

I didn't bother to explain, because in moments, if all went well, it would explain itself.

Siobhan started to close the few yards that separated us. She would come closer, just not too close, so whatever she had planned needed less space between us. The others came at her back, gleaming in their armors of many colors and many shapes like an evil rainbow, combined with your brightest dream and worst nightmare. We were the Unseelie, terrible and wonderous.

"Whatever you're going to do," Gregorio said, "you better do it fast."

I opened the invisible mark on my hand that held the hand of flesh. That mark now touched the hilt of Aben-dul. It is an enchanted weapon, but when it finds its rightful wielder, there is no learning curve. There is only a sense of rightness, and knowledge, as if the use of the weapon were like breathing, or the beating of my heart. I did not have to think how to focus the hand of flesh down that blade. I simply had to will it.

Siobhan reached behind her and lifted a pack off her shoulder. She opened the flap, and began to fiddle with something.

Gregorio screamed, "Bomb!"

"It can't take out this vehicle," the driver said.

"What happens if she gets it through a window?" I asked in a careful voice, because if even my voice wavered, it would hurt my control. I had never used Aben-dul before, and it was like trying to walk up a steep flight of steps with something hot and dangerous in your hands. Careful, or it spills.

"No one can throw through this glass," the driver said, thumping her window with a knuckle, "so just roll up the window, Princess."

"You have no idea how strong Siobhan is," I said. "She could throw anything through any glass."

The driver turned in her seat and looked at Gregorio. "Are the sidhe that strong?"

"Intelligence says yes."

"Shit," the driver said, and she started scrabbling for something on the floorboards.

I kept my attention on Siobhan and her package. I'd meant to simply unleash the power, but now, suddenly, I had to focus it. I aimed the sword at the hand that held that innocent-looking pack. If a soldier told me it was a bomb, I believed her.

Siobhan stood and reared her arm back to throw. Then the arm wasn't quite as long as it had been. I thought, flow, twist, become... The flesh of her hand flowed over the strap of the pack. I'd seen my father do this, concentrate on the part of the body he wanted to damage. He'd had to touch the body to do it, but the principle was the same. He'd been able to flow flesh to a degree, and stop it if he wished. I didn't have that control yet. No, being honest, at least to myself, I had a plan for the bomb, and it didn't include stopping short of the worst that the hand of flesh could do. The plan relied on doing my worst to Siobhan.

She screamed and shrieked. The darkly glittering throng at her back stepped away. She stood there with the pack melding to her body. But she moved in a circle of empty space. None of them would chance touching her. They knew the story of what had happened to Pascoe and Rozenwyn; no one would risk such a fate.

She began to run toward our Humvee. Even as I prepared to destroy her, I admired her bravery. She knew what I was going to do, and she would, with her last effort, try to take me with her. Her determination was flawless.

A rifle shot rang out, so close I was deafened by it. Our driver, Corporal Lance, was shooting out her window, and had taken out one of Siobhan's legs at the knee. I hadn't even been aware that Lance had rolled her window down. But I had to focus, had to keep the spell where I needed it. Had to... Siobhan's flesh rolled, her face going under a wall of her own internal organs as if water were drowning her. But she was sidhe, and she could not die for lack of oxygen. You could drown me. It had been one of the proofs my aunt had used to call me worthless. But Siobhan would not die just because her mouth and nose were inside a ball of her own flesh. Sidhe do not die that easily.

Moonlight glittered on blood and shiny things that should never see the light of day. There was nothing left of her but a ball of flesh. Her heart was on the outside, pulsing, living, just like the last time I'd done this. I was too far away to hear her scream, but I had no doubt that she was screaming. Screaming or cursing me.

"What is that moving on her front?" Gregorio asked.

"Her heart," I said.

"She's not dead?"

"No."

"Jesus!"

"Yes," I said.

Some of the armored figures had dropped to their knees, but not all. I saw Conri, in his red and gold, he who had tried to kill Galen once. I aimed the sword at him, and he began to melt. It could have been anyone though, any who stood. If they knelt, they could live, but if they defied me, they would suffer. It was that simple.

As Conri screamed, and twisted inside out, the last standing warriors dropped to their knees. The ones who were already on their knees pressed their faces to the ground. It had bothered me when my guards had tried to do that, but this night, this moment, I was glad of it. They had come to kill me, and all whom I loved. If I could not destroy them all, then I needed them to fear me.

Corporal Lance yelled as she handed her rifle to Gregorio and rolled up her window. "Close your window, we gotta move!"

"Why?" Gregorio asked.

"Wizards. You don't think when you're doing spells." She started the engine and we started forward. "Raise your damn window!"

"If you raise the window, I can't do this spell," I said.

"The bomb is still going to go off."

"You said it couldn't hurt this car," I said.

"You're our protectee. I'd rather not take the chance."

She eased us forward, and started angling around the truck in front of us. The radio was asking why we were moving. The word "bomb" seemed to galvanize everyone. Engines roared to life, and unfortunately, there was confusion. Too many people had fallen to the illusions and tricks, so there were just a few moments of confusion while they sorted who would collect the people who were hurt or dead. Seconds only, but seconds count.

I don't know what I had thought would happen. I simply put the bomb inside Siobhan's body. Had I thought that her flesh would be enough to contain the explosion? I think I had, but I was no solider. I wasn't truly even a warrior. I made the mistake of someone whose main ability is magic. I didn't think of the physical, and suddenly the physical was all there was.

The concussion of the bomb rocked the Humvee, splattering it with bits of flesh, bone, and shrapnel. My window was open. Something smashed into my right shoulder and upper chest. I was rocked backward, thrown onto the seat, and ended on the floorboards.

I'd lost my grip on Aben-dul. I managed to yell out, "Don't touch the sword, whatever you do! Don't let anyone touch the sword!" I forced myself to get up and grope for the hilt. If Gregorio or Lance touched it, they'd be turned into what Conri and Siobhan had...

Gregorio's face was over me. "You're hit!" She turned back to the driver. "She's hit. The princess is hit!"

I just kept trying to reach the sword. It was as if the world had narrowed down to me getting the hilt back in my hand. I couldn't let them touch it. They wouldn't know. They wouldn't understand.

Gregorio ripped my cloak away. I crawled back up on the seat as Corporal Lance drove us over the uneven road. My hand closed on the hilt as I felt Gregorio behind me. "I have to see the wounds, Princess, please."

She'd climbed into the back with me. Her hands were bloody as she reached for me. I turned from her, and used every bit of concentration I had left to slide Aben-dul into its sheath and set the locks.

Gregorio turned me to face her as the Humvee bounced over the road. "Fuck! We need a medic, now!"

I looked down where she was looking, and saw nails sticking out of my body where the leather coat had left it bare. I stared down at the blood and the things sticking out of me, and thought, "Shouldn't it hurt more?"

"Her skin's cold. She's going into shock. Shit!"

I thought, "No, I can't go into shock. That might kill me. Wouldn't it?" I couldn't seem to think clearly. But the moment I decided not to go into shock, the pain hit me. It was like a smaller cut, when it doesn't hurt until you see the blood. But this was not small, and the pain was shearing, burning. Why did it burn? Was it my imagination, or could I really feel the nails embedded in my flesh?

I grabbed Gregorio with my left hand, because I couldn't raise the right one. Something was very wrong with my shoulder. "I need Doyle. I need Rhys. I need my men."

"We're getting you to safety, then we'll worry about your guards," the driver yelled back.

Corporal Lance kept us moving, and the other Humvees moved so that we could. We were moving past the car that had held Galen, Sholto, and Mistral. They weren't in it. Gregorio was trying to get me to lie down. I batted her hands away. Where were they?

I sent my magic seeking them, and felt a tug on that line of power. Someone who was attached to my power was hurt, very hurt. His life flickered like fire in a strong wind. Death was coming.

I couldn't think of anything else but that I had to get to him. Had to get to him. Had to... I touched Gregorio on her face, and whispered, "I'm sorry," then smiled at her. I called my glamour and let her see not what I wanted her to see, but anything she wished to see. Anything if it would get me out of here, and to that flickering light I could feel out there in the dark.

Her face softened, and she whispered, "Kevin."

I smiled, and when she leaned in to kiss me, I kissed her back, ever so gently, and laid her down on the seat with a smile still curling her lips. She would dream of the man who had given her that kiss. It was a type of glamour that was completely illegal, under the same heading as a date-rape drug. But I had no interest in anything but getting out.

I opened the door. Lance slammed on the brakes, and yelled, "What are you doing, Princess?"

"He's dying. I have to help him." I stepped out into the road. I used my good arm to cradle the injured one, and began to move through the trees. I would have run, but that line of power was flickering too low. If I ran, I would lose it, as if my running were a stronger wind than his life could survive. I prayed, and wrapped glamour around me. Glamour to keep our driver from seeing me and dragging me back. Glamour to hide from the sidhe who wanted me dead. Glamour to make me look like whoever the person expected to see, and would be glad to see. It was a type of personal glamour that I had never tried before, but I just suddenly knew that I could do it. I hid by being whoever or whatever they needed to see, and I moved away from them all. I had to find him before he died. I wouldn't let myself think who it was that I chased in the dark. There would be time enough to see who I had lost when I got to his side.