The Shifting Price of Prey

Chapter Fifty-Two

‘Let us see, bean sidhe.’ Viviane tapped another card. ‘You want to be released from that circle. You want to help your troll friend with his rescue of the victims. You want the satyr safe.’ She gave me another sharp-toothed smile. ‘And you want the last card in the tarot reading so you know how to release the fae’s fertility from the pendant. That card, however, is not part of this agreement, since it is already under contract.’

Left unsaid was that she could fudge the timing of the card’s appearance, to make it less helpful than it might be. But as for the rest, she’d got it spot on.

Viviane shifted a card from the top of one line to the bottom of another. ‘I also get a touch of precognition with the cards. For instance, when it comes to your negotiations with the Emperor, I might be able to help you.’

Help me, or you? ‘What sort of help?’

She frowned, moved another card. ‘I’m not able to say exactly. It seems I might have a conflict of interest.’

‘What does that mean?’

She shrugged. ‘Exactly what I said. Some things I can help you with. Others would negate another bargain I have already made.’

‘Who with?’

‘You know I can’t tell you that,’ she said chidingly.

It was an easy out. Though that probably didn’t make it any less true. And my suspicious antennae said her bargain was with Bastien. The tarot cards had tied in too closely to Bastien’s plans for it to be anyone else. Only Viv’s mention of bargains had my stomach clenching, but if that was what I had to do . . . ‘So you want to make a sidhe bargain—’

‘No,’ she shouted, throwing her hands up in horror, her cards flying round the cave like a flight of panicked garden fairies. ‘Just a small agreement to help each other out the best we can, nothing more, bean sidhe. I do not want the magic involved in this. That is how I ended up enslaved to the cards in the first place.’

I blinked, surprised at her words, and that she’d admitted it. But it also made me happier to go along with her small agreement; it meant no unpredictable consequences for either of us. Of course, it also left a greater chance of loopholes to wiggle out of.

‘So what do you want?’

She clasped her hands in front of her. ‘I want you to get the kelpie to give you the tarot cards as a gift then, at a time and place of my choosing, I want you to burn the cards to ash and transfer ownership of the ashes to the person of my choice.’

She wanted her freedom. With the chain and collar round my neck, I could relate. ‘If I agree, you’ll help release me, help save Finn, help me rescue the victims, and get my answer from the Emperor with no harm to me or mine?’

‘With no harm to you or yours from me, yes. I can’t guarantee what others will or will not do.’

Hmm. Nice qualification for a small agreement. But then loopholes could work both ways. Transferring ownership of the tarot cards was one thing, but she hadn’t said it was to be an unrestricted transfer.

‘Then we have ourselves a small agreement,’ I said. We both held our breath in case the magic decided to chime in of its own accord. Sometimes it can be tricky like that. After a long, thankfully, chime-free minute, we both relaxed. ‘So what happens now?’

Viviane gave me a pleasant smile. ‘We wait.’

‘For what?’

‘Your white knight to appear, of course.’

‘Who the hell is that?’

‘Someone who can release you.’

Crap. She wasn’t going to tell me. I narrowed my eyes. ‘Thought you were going to help?’

‘Incorporeal.’ She waggled her hands. ‘I can look, but not touch. That collar needs someone with opposable thumbs and magic.’ She flashed me her sharp-toothed smile again. ‘But I’ve got it all organised, no need to worry.’

She’d got it all organised? Figured. But then she’d already known I was likely to end up chained in the ash circle. After all, she’d shown me that big grey and black cat on the Moon tarot card, and warned that the beasts were coming for me. Just enough information that I couldn’t call her on it. I was the fool for thinking she’d meant the Emperor’s werewolves. Shame on me.

Forty-odd minutes later, during which I impatiently (and ironically) watched Viviane play Patience, I was pacing the ash circle and rattling my chain like a trapped animal, or the recently condemned.

I stopped as a bellowing noise came, followed by two more. Swamp-dragons on the hunt. And not too far away, judging by the pitch. Viviane lifted her head, focused warily on the cave entrance.

More bellowing. Eager and excited. The swampies had sighted prey.

A loud, angry roar rolled through the air, sounding like the cat roaring on the Moon tarot card. The roar came from right outside the cave.

Gold Cat? Or some other shifter?

I clenched my fists, pacing the circle and listening to the cacophony of noise: growls of warning, the swampies’ excited bellows . . . a sharp yelp of pain followed by a long, breath-holding silence . . . then Gold Cat was backing through the entrance of the cave dragging a body behind it—

Finn.

He was scarily still.

Heart thudding with fear, I slapped my hands against the circle’s invisible wall, shouting at Gold Cat to bring him near. Gold Cat hauled him right to the edge of the ash circle and, sides heaving, let him drop. He fell on his front, face towards me. His shirt and trousers were ripped and mud-splattered, with a distinct whiff of swampie sulphur. His hooves were rough, his hair matted, his long curving horns bloody, and cuts and bruises marked his cheek, jaw and what I could see of his back. He’d been in a fight; the purple colour of the bruises suggesting it had happened hours ago. There was a deep scratch on his forehead, more recent judging by the fresh blood still trickling. I slapped the circle wall again, but still couldn’t breach the ashes.

‘Viviane,’ I shouted. ‘Do something. He’s hurt.’

She held up her hands and shook her head. ‘Sorry. Incorporeal, remember.’

Fuck. I kicked the circle, straining to grab its magic, then stopped as Gold Cat snarled and spat at me as if to say, ‘Get back!’ Hope springing in my heart, I watched as it swiped its tongue over Finn’s bloody face then pushed at him with its head. His body rolled over, landing on the ashes, his arm dropping inside the circle.

I dropped to my knees, reaching out to grab him, but as my fingers closed over his wrist, Gold Cat leaped over him and the ashes and vanished in a cascade of golden stars.

Magic exploded inside me, desperate heat spreading through my veins, throbbing between my legs. I tightened my hold on Finn and pulled him fully into the circle, not caring for anything other than needing him in here with me. He moaned, lids fluttering open, eyes a muddy-green with pain. They lit with relief when he saw me.

‘Gen?’ he murmured. ‘Thank the Gods. I thought . . . killed . . . worse.’

I wanted to tell him how ecstatic and relieved I was to see him alive, wanted to find out how hurt he was, wanted to ask him what had happened, wanted to tell him I was fine, wanted to get him to take the damn collar off, wanted us to escape. Wanted to tell him about the magic driving me. Wanted to warn him. Wanted to stop it. Instead, I took his face in my hands and thrust my magic into him, exalting as the muddy-green in his eyes flickered emerald and he reached up to grip my arms.

His eyes turned solid gold with my Glamour. I lowered my lips to his in a searing kiss.

The steady beat of Finn’s heart woke me. My face was pressed into the curve of his throat, my body sprawled atop his where we lay on the furs, and despite Finn’s sleeping breath warming my hair and the languorous wellbeing leaving my muscles yielding and pliant, I could feel where a certain part of him was nowhere near so soft. Could feel it so intimately that there was no way I could deny we’d had sex, and we’d evidently fallen asleep still joined.

Only I couldn’t remember any of it.

Stunned, I prodded the blankness in my mind. I could recall the swampies bellowing, Gold Cat dragging Finn into the cave, Viviane lifting her hands and shrugging . . . then a fuzzy memory of pulling Finn into the circle, the magic and need driving me as I kissed him. But nothing more. Shocked disbelief washed over me, fracturing my sleepy aftermath.

I couldn’t remember what we’d done.

Was this some sort of cosmic joke? Had someone stolen my memory? Or hexed us, or maybe just me— Crap. The Morpheus Memory Aid. One of its side-effects was memory loss. Why the hell did it have to hit now? Then something more horrifying hit me. I’d Glamoured Finn.

Fuck. I’d forced him. Disgust whirled through me. It didn’t matter that he might have said yes if the circumstances were normal; he hadn’t had the chance. I was as bad as his ex, the Witch-bitch Helen.

I started to move then found myself flipped over and a very awake-looking Finn gazing down at me, horns curving at full length, eyes shining gold. Part of me was selfishly grateful he was still caught in my Glamour, so I had a few more minutes before I got to see his revulsion at how I’d trapped him. And if I was truthful, even sickened with myself as I was, I wanted a few more minutes to enjoy the position I’d woken up in . . . and was still in. Finn flipping me over hadn’t dislodged anything, and what hadn’t been exactly soft before was becoming less that way even as we lay here, much to my body’s obvious delight. It reacted happily, tightening around him with desire.

‘Sorry,’ I muttered, ashamed heat burning my face. ‘I didn’t mean that.’

‘Hey.’ He grinned, did something that made me gasp beneath him. ‘Nothing to be sorry for, Gen. I am a sex god, after all’ – he winked – ‘and us sex gods love it when we’re appreciated. It does wonders for our poor battered egos.’

‘Yeah, about that—’

He silenced me with a long lingering kiss, one that made my toes curl and made me want nothing more than to take this where he thought it was headed. As he started moving, my heart cracked a little and I broke the kiss, turning my face away.

He stilled above me. ‘Gen?’

‘I’m sorry,’ I said, staring at the back of the cave, noticing the leather collar and its broken padlock. Finn must’ve removed it at some point. ‘We can’t— I can’t do this.’ Tears stung my eyes.

He gently turned my face to his, brushing his thumb across my wet cheek. ‘Gods, Gen, what’s wrong?’

‘Finn,’ I said softly. ‘I’m not sure if you’ll understand me, but I’ve trapped you in my Glamour. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. Whatever we did last night, it’s my fault. But we can’t do this now. And I can’t release you unless we’re not touching.’

‘You’ve Glamoured me?’ He gave me a perplexed look as he shifted back slightly.

‘Yeah,’ I said, feeling strangely reluctant to lose my connection to him. ‘I’m sorry. You need to move so I can free you.’

‘Gen,’ he said earnestly, ‘we talked about all this last night at length. I’ve told you before, and I explained then, you can’t trap me. See?’ He closed his eyes, took a breath and when he opened them again, they were his normal moss-green. ‘It’s just more fun sharing magic.’ He gave me a brief half-smile. ‘I know you were knocked sideways with the effects of that stupid cambion’s magic coming on top of the fertility spell and all the ambush stuff, but we didn’t do anything either of us didn’t want to last night, or at least—’ His expression turned troubled. ‘Are you saying something different, Gen?’

‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘I can’t remember. I’ve used two of those Morpheus Memory Aids in the last few days. I think their magic’s—’

‘Morpheus Memory Aids usually cause spotty memory loss, like forgetting if you’ve locked the door, or where you left your keys. It doesn’t strip away a whole night.’

‘Well, it has.’

Distress crossed his face. ‘Gen, we didn’t just have sex, we talked about stuff. A lot of stuff. Nicky, Helen . . . us. Don’t you remember any of it?’

‘Seriously, Finn. Nothing after I kissed you, no.’

His expression turned horrified, and he was gone so fast I felt a breeze. A fur landed on top of me and I hugged it as I sat up. He had his back to me. Sleek sable hair coated his hips and thighs, and a black tuft nestled at the base of his spine: his tail. The fact that he was too upset to hide it sent my pulse spiking with anxiety. It sped faster as I saw he was tearing Carlson’s backpack apart, ripping off all the smaller pockets. He tossed it aside then scanned the cave as if searching for something. Suddenly his eyes lit on Marc’s clothes by the cold fire. He snatched them up, shoved his hand in the jeans pockets, but came up empty. He threw them down in disgust.

‘What are you looking for?’ I asked, hating that my voice shook.

‘Something that would explain why you’ve lost your memory.’ His gaze fixed on the fire. He grabbed a stick and poked the ashes. ‘Nothing.’ He rushed back, his jeans appearing as he did, and crouched down next to me. ‘What’s the exact last thing you remember, Gen?’

I looked into his worried face, tamped down my own panic. ‘The swampies were outside the cave, I could hear them, and something like a fight, then Gold Cat dragged you in, pushed you into the circle.’ I frowned. ‘I remember wanting to talk to you, but instead I kissed you. Then nothing until I woke up.’

Finn took my hands, an odd look on his face. ‘You said a gold cat dragged me in. What cat, Gen?’

‘Gold Cat. It’s a primal spirit, an animus,’ I said slowly, unease clutching my gut. ‘The ritual went wrong and I somehow made an ùmaidh and the animus bonded to it.’

‘I don’t know anything about primal spirits, Gen,’ he said worriedly. ‘But you have to sever part of your soul to make an ùmaidh. It’s not something you can do without the right knowledge. What’s this cat look like?’

‘Same size as the shifters’ cats. but not as chunky, and it’s gold with black stripes, not dark grey. It brought you here.’

Finn shook his head. ‘I don’t remember any gold-coloured cat, Gen. Just the gnome and the big cats that ambushed us.’

‘You were unconscious when it brought you in,’ I said, trying to stay calm, but hearing my anxiety in my voice.

‘Yeah.’ His eyes flickered down at my arms, at the fading needle-marks there. ‘Gen, we talked about this last night, how you couldn’t remember much about what happened after the ritual went wrong. But you were sure you were okay. Maybe I was a bit hasty believing you. I think—’

‘You think what? That Gold Cat isn’t real? That I was hallucinating it or something? Finn, think about it. Hugh was waiting for us to turn up at Old Scotland Yard. We’d been kidnapped. Why would we stay the night here and talk and everything?’

He frowned. ‘I said that to you, but you reminded me this is Between. Said we could spend a week here and make it just an hour in the humans’ world if we wanted. That we shouldn’t waste the opportunity. You wanted us to get rid of the fertility magic, and to sort things out between us, before we went back. You never mentioned any gold cat, Gen. And we talked about . . .’

I stopped listening as Gold Cat padded silently through the cave entrance. I grabbed Finn’s arm. ‘There! Look!’ As he turned, the cat huffed in exasperation, crouched and leaped. As it flew towards us I shoved Finn out of the way and braced for impact. It didn’t come. Instead, the big cat seemed to merge into me in a brush of soft fur, sharp claws and alien magic. As it did, my skin felt stretched tight enough to split, the colours in the cave muted to grey and the taste of fresh meat filled my mouth. I looked at Finn’s shocked expression and a cascade of memories poured over me; our voices mingling in laughter and tears, our limbs tangling in passionate pleasure, and the deep satisfaction of knowing he was mine.

My mate.

And I/it was his.

Mated.

No! I tried to shout, to push it out, but it raked claws through me, slicing me into smaller and smaller bloody pieces and casting them down into the darkness.

As I fell it reached out to Finn and as my lips met his, I felt it find the memories of it returning as the Gold Cat to the cave, of his and my waking minutes, of my telling him about it, and steal them from him.

The memories rained down on me, burning like acid tears.