Cursed to Death Page 22

  The four other advisors shook their heads as though Hunter had just said he had inoperable cancer.

  “whatever it is, these are the symbols that Hunter’s grandfather saw,” Sasha said as calmly as possibly, letting them see the stored cell phone pics again.

  “Well, man, tell us, is it possible to get this attack off our allies?” Sir Rodney said, standing and beginning to pace. “There must be something to do for this?”

  “First things first,” the lead advisor said slowly. “They are wolves. They can track. If they go back to the three establishments and go to the top floors—the attic, the eaves, somewhere remote that isn’t used—where no one who wasn’t looking for something would go . . . they will be able to cancel the spell against the castle . . . which will remove the deleterious effects on all Seelie Fae that hail from Forte Shannon. They can lay the cold iron with the necessary herbs that we cannot touch. From there, we will have our glamour back and can send out search-and-destroy parties to aid them. Without proof positive, we cannot raid Unseelie Sidhe mounds or go after Goblins, digger Gnomes, Dwarfs, or Gremlins . . . Any of these could have been agents in delivering bits of hair, personal effects, the things necessary to make a bond to each victim’s etheric body.”

  “To attack Sylphs,” another said and then clarified when Sasha frowned. “Air elementals, milady—we must be strong. Air elementals work in the etheric realms. When we attempt to remove the sigils from the etheric body doubles or the property they’ve been attached to, they will fight with all their might.”

  “Our job is to first break the spell on the fortress, and then all Seelie Fae will be whole and can in turn help us,” Shogun said, glancing around. “That we can do—but what is witchwood . . . or rowan?”

  “Our Wood Sprites can show you in the morning. But they cannot touch it. The plant is highly toxic to us,” Sir Rodney said. “Once you collect it, you must go out of the encampment. It is a toxin for us—you have to take it to the three locations, and then return to us with it washed off of your hands and free of your clothing.”

  “How long do we have?” Hunter said, leaning forward on the table on his elbows.

  “You have already lost three moons. You only have one more. Then the final moon in the sigils is the night of the Midsummer Night’s Ball . . . The stroke of midnight is also when the magick becomes strongest and next to impossible to break.” The lead advisor looked around and his gaze settled on Sasha. “You have a question. It is in your eyes.”

  “Yeah . . .” she said, losing patience. “Let me get this straight. We hit the streets tomorrow, try to keep this on the down low from human authorities that will be crawling all over these joints that we have to go back into without the aid of shadow-jumping stealth . . . and we have to do this by tomorrow before sunset so the Seelie can come out and ransack wherever to find our sigils—the thing that’s making us weak and vulnerable. Did I get that right?”

  Five small heads nodded in unison.

  “Okay,” Sasha said, ruffling her hair up off her neck in frustration. “But all the while, we’re getting crazier and crazier—and now we’re finally thinking this is magick that could possibly only be delivered by the Unseelie.”

  No one said a word. It was suddenly so quiet in the large meeting room that Sasha stood to keep from screaming.

  “And these sigils of ours could be anywhere in the world,” she said flatly.

  Again five heads nodded in unison.

  “And we’re pretty sure that Vampires are involved, like we just found out tonight that the Buchanans were lying in wait for us, so these sigils could be on any of the abovementioned estates—which are heavily fortified.” Sasha walked around the perimeter of the table slowly as though hunting something in the center of it. “There has to be another way to break the Unseelie spell against specific individuals. I get it that you can unbind a group that was bound as a group more simply . . . but someone went after us on a very personal level.”

  “They did, indeed, lassie,” the lead advisor said quietly. “There is a way . . . but . . .”

  “Why us?” Sasha looked around the room. “If it’s the Unseelie, why us—the Wolf Federations? We’re not involved!”

  “I’m afraid you are,” the lead advisor said calmly. “If you are our strongest allies, the ones who united our fractured Parliaments, then, sadly . . .”

  “The friend of my enemy is my enemy,” Shogun said flatly.

  “Yes,” Advisor Garth said with a weary sigh.

  “That is some Vampire bullshit, if ever I’ve heard it,” Sasha said.

  “With a weakened Louisiana Werewolf clan seeking vengeance and willing to aid in the confrontation,” Hunter said, closing his eyes and massaging his temples. “How do we fix this, reverse the dark spell?”

  “We haven’t gone into direct conflict with Queen Blatand of Hecate since the Penicuik Wars that split apart the Midlothian Council,” the second advisor said in a distraught murmur.

  “If her attack came from the core of her power base, then we would have to capture and behead her top advisors to still this Unseelie magick, and even if we knew they were guilty as sin—it’s much easier to locate the actual sigils and undo the black spell than to capture and un-glamour members of that powerful group to behead them. By rights, there should be a trial . . . and evidence presented, she will argue . . . and then if they are found guilty, the treason charge could be levied and their magick bled away from them. But that is their game. There isn’t time for a trial.”

  “And it sounds like there also isn’t time for us to find the locations of all these sigils that are tainting our etheric selves,” Hunter said in a low, growling tone.

  “Under the circumstances,” Shogun said, rubbing the nape of his neck, “it seems a lot easier to go to war than to try to find a needle in a haystack.”

  Sir Rodney stretched tension out of his back as he walked around the room. “What did the property investigation show? Who might have been angry that their inheritance went to McGregor?”

  “A name came up from our property search as you requested . . . Kiagehul would have stood to gain much, milord,” the senior advisor said quietly.

  “Kiagehul? Cousin of Enoksen and Elder Futhark?” Sir Rodney stopped pacing, closed his eyes, and shook his head. “Enoksen and Elder Futhark are her top advisors . . . Even if we go after his magick by just finding that little weasel, it will incline her to war once she listens to them.”

  “Has anyone seen this man—do we know how to spot him?”

  “No, milord,” the eldest advisor said. “His identity is shrouded . . . but we have our investigators working on this as we speak.”

  “Then war it is,” Sasha said. “We cannot have two major Wolf Federations go down, along with innocent humans on my squad and the Seelie nations in the Americas, because some little bastard got greedy and thought he could get away with murder because the Vampires and some rogue wolves had his back. The queen will have to get over it.”

  Sir Rodney just stared at Sasha for a moment.

  “The queen doesn’t get over anything, milady,” the lead advisor warned.

  “How well do you know the queen and her capabilities?” Hunter asked, turning his attention to Sir Rodney.

  “Do you know this enemy well?” Shogun asked, growing impatient. “We could capture this Kiagehul and interrogate him in a way that would make him understand the need to cooperate.”

  “A manhunt could take who knows how long . . . Plus he could be holed up in Vampire turf or in hiding. If Unseelie magick is behind all this, we send a message to the queen to tell her to call her man back. If she isn’t an accomplice to it, and doesn’t want to start a war, she will. If she’s too arrogant or is somehow involved, then we do this thing.” Sasha walked back and forth, feeling trapped. “But Sir Rodney is right, guys. We have to lift the spell off the Seelie Fae and this fortress so we have a strong offensive, plus a solid fallback position. We’ve gotta get the rest of our team behind
these walls tomorrow.”

  “Then let’s get back to the question that Shogun and I asked, because it is important to know the enemy before deploying a tactic that could backfire.” Hunter leaned on the table, looking across it at Sir Rodney. “Do you know this queen well enough to negotiate with her?”

  Everyone that had been seated around the table was now on their feet.

  “Yes, I know her bleedin’ well enough—and am all too familiar with the full extent of her wrath, which is how I wound up in the Americas and not in the Bonnie Isles,” Sir Rodney said, rubbing his palms down his face. “She’s me ex-wife. A show of force is the only thing she bloody well understands.”

  CHAPTER 18

  “Rupert, please show the lady to her room,” Sir Rodney said as casually as possible, eyeing both male wolves. When Hunter cocked his head to the side, Sir Rodney kept his tone even and calm. “We have all been under an inordinate amount of strain. The morrow brings a major campaign. We cannot afford to have anything rip our alliance to shreds. A good night’s sleep would serve us all well.”

  “Safe haven,” Sasha said quietly after a moment. She stared at Hunter until his hardened gaze lost some of its resistance. “Good night.” She nodded at both Hunter and Shogun, in the proper order, and then bid Sir Rodney good night. Her eyes said thank you as she turned to follow Rupert down the long corridor that led to an entirely separate wing of the castle. The Seelie Fae were such diplomats; it was a shame that their peaceful way of life was probably going to devolve into an all-out war.

  For now, though, her being in her own suite alone was the only way, the only thing that made sense. Who knew when irrational possessiveness would return, and none of them could afford that level of drama right now. At the moment, she was so exhausted, if she didn’t lie down, she would fall down—and if any male, wolf or not, tried to put his hands on her, she’d definitely have to kill him where he stood. More to the point, she needed every ounce of brainpower to noodle the problem of what to do about the individual spells that could make them all self-destruct.

  Rupert stopped in front of a massive door, bowed, and then stepped before her to open it in a grand, sweeping gesture. “If it please milady?” he asked in an ebullient tone, his eyes expectant.

  “Wow . . .” Sasha murmured. She didn’t move, just gaped for a moment as she took it all in.

  Everything was white on white on white and twinkling with Faerie dust sparkles. Tall white candles sputtered with iridescent flames, and a perfect wash of blue-white moonlight spilled across the bed and floor. A series of thick white alpaca rugs dotted the polished stone floor. It seemed as though, for all that was lost in the rest of the castle and village in terms of bewitching, nothing was spared on making her room spectacular.

  There was no getting used to Fae surprises, no matter how much she tried. As silly as it was, for a moment she felt like a princess, and almost looked down to see if her mud-crusted boots had somehow turned into glass slippers. Now, as she stared at what lay before her, she felt too dirty to even walk into the pristine space Rupert offered. The wolf life pretty much followed natural law, but the Fae had a way of turning even the most basic of life’s accoutrements into a wonderland.

  An ornate, four-poster bed was positioned against the far wall, draped in gossamer sheers. White satin pillows littered a thick duvet. Behind an opaque screen that was partially open, she could see the edge of a white porcelain claw-footed tub. Her gaze quickly took in the antique white vanity loaded with every conceivable potion and lotion a woman could dream of, down to a sterling comb-and-brush set.

  Sprays of white roses in delicately etched crystal vases were everywhere—on the vanity, on the bedside tables, on the dining area table, and two bookended the fireplace mantel.

  Lush white-on-white satin overstuffed chairs and a love seat were scattered about. An antique white armoire stood against the wall flanking the bed. Closer to what seemed like the outer, less personal space of the grand suite was a table set for two, complete with a silver-domed tray and slim, elegant silver chalices.

  “I literally don’t know what to say.” Sasha turned to Rupert, who seemed pleased by her admission. Yet, with the obvious strain on castle resources, a twinge of guilt and worry niggled her.

  “Shall I draw the lady a bath?”

  How could she say no? Sasha hesitated and then looked down at her clothes for a second.

  “The closet is full, milady.” Rupert waved his arm, not entering her room and keeping a dignified distance from her. “Everything here has been attuned to your total comfort. Just ask and it is so. Your soiled clothes and boots can be left in the white hamper by the armoire and within an hour you can retrieve them folded and laundered, your boots polished, as though new.”

  Sasha looked over her shoulder quickly as she heard the sound of bathwater filling the tub. She could only imagine how her guys were taking all of this. Woods and Fisher probably had tears of joy in their eyes. She just hoped the alphas weren’t affronted by this extraordinary display of Fae male prowess. Wolves did the strong sexy thing; the Fae did the smooth sexy magick thing—but regardless of species, a male display was a male display, peacock-plume spread or rhino head butt, it was what it was.

  “There are fresh towels in the bath laid out for your use, milady.” Rupert stood aside further to encourage her to enter the room. “In the closet is a variety of choices, from ball gowns to more casual options. And when you desire a meal, just state your choice out loud, then lift the lid off the silver platter, and your meal shall be served. If the selection should not please you, simply cover it up and it will be immediately removed. You may observe the same process when you have finished dining.”

  “This is really, really, really . . . over the top, and deeply appreciated . . . but the expense of all these resources on me . . .”

  “Is what Sir Rodney expressly demanded,” Rupert said with a worried smile.

  Sasha monitored the slight strain in his voice and the troubled look in his eyes. “Then please tell him thank you. Let him know that I was simply blown away.”

  “You heard Doc,” Clarissa said, rubbing Bradley’s shoulders, standing behind him as he hunched over a computer keyboard. “Sasha told you no less. That’s your fifth cup of coffee and you have to get a couple hours’ rest.”

  He didn’t look up from his task of typing and furiously scribbling notes as he responded to her. “There has to be a way to call the doppelgangers to us . . . And if we create a charm that is made of iron, rowan . . .”

  “You’re scaring me,” Clarissa murmured, hugging him from behind. “Sasha said to stay put. Silver Hawk can’t even get back into the shadow lands now, anyway. Come on, let’s get out of Dr. Williams’s office and go get some shut-eye in the residents’ lounge with everybody else.”

  He nodded, quickly acknowledging her hug with a fast peck on her cheek. “The shadow lands aren’t blocked to all Shadow Wolves, just to the ones who’ve been targeted—the leadership. I’ve been studying the sigils,” he said, finally looking up at her. “Their wolves might have been blocked in a blanket spell against the leaders and their top lieutenants, the very clansmen that would be accompanying them to the Fae ball. But to shut down all the shadow lands would be too much of a drain on their dark resources, and they’d have to have had a power-of-three location spell that was time-sensitive to the light.”

  Bradley pushed away from the desk and stood, talking as he walked about, thinking out loud. “ ’Rissa . . . What if Bear and Crow put on the alpha amulets that would allow them to enter the shadow lands with cold iron and rowan and whatever else I can come up with to break the stranglehold this curse has on our etheric doubles?”

  “But what if they get lost in there . . . They aren’t alphas that can go in alone.”

  “What if they had a seer?” he asked quietly, staring at her with an unblinking gaze.

  “I can’t go through the shadow lands; no human physiology can.”

  “I would neve
r put you in harm’s way,” he murmured, seeming hurt that she thought he would. “But an astral projection of your mind to their minds, your unfettered consciousness, could guide them as well as help them lure the misguided etheric bodies to them. All they would have to do would be to pierce the sigils that were fused to them, and the doppelgangers would be freed of the impediment. Then you bring them out of there as quickly as possible.” Bradley ran his fingers through his hair. “On the outside, you’d have me, Silver Hawk, and Doc to anchor you in the power of three on this side.”

  “I could do that,” Clarissa said, gaining confidence as the concept sank in. “In fact, I could fuse my consciousness with Silver Hawk’s before I went in as a guide with Bear and Crow. His wisdom in there would be invaluable.”

  He smiled and let out a deep breath. “Yes! I love it when it begins to come together—finding the solution. At least part of it. I’ll start working on how they bewitched the Fae fortress after a few hours of shut-eye . . . Yeah, you’re right, I am tired, but the coffee is kicking my behind. Tomorrow we have to get to the occult shops to get iron bullets, handcuffs, iron rods, and to see of they have a stock of rowan and herbs.” When she didn’t comment, smile, or blink, his enthusiasm ebbed. “What?”

  “Your mind,” she said softly, going to him, “is so beautiful that I am at a loss for words.”

  Sasha watched her clothes and boots drop into the hamper and disappear. Standing naked and dirty in the middle of the floor, there was nothing to do but take a bath. Common sense told her that the light-headed feeling of peacefulness was nothing more than faux Fae euphoria. But knowing that all was well and her guys were safe, she didn’t fight it. A hot tub filled with rose petals and sweetly scented bubbles was calling her name.

  She crossed the room and slipped behind the privacy screen, testing the water temperature with her hands. Perfect. What else had she expected? Sasha giggled and then splashed her face with a little of the water, then released a light moan. Even the water was bewitched. The scent of roses and something she couldn’t define, but was heavenly, filled her nose. Her skin drank in the ultra-soft wetness . . . the water didn’t feel like water. It was as though any harsh minerals and iron had been removed from it . . .