Читать книгу Grey's Magic - Dawn Addonizio - Страница 7

Scarlett yawned as she rolled out of bed and headed for the kitchen. Bradan, the brownie who shared her cottage, had already put on the tea kettle.

“Mmm,” she sighed as she took the first sweet, scalding sip.

Even though brownies tended to stay out of sight and shunned compliments, Scarlett knew that Bradan secretly enjoyed it when she acknowledged his efforts.

Her lips twitched as she replaced the lid that he’d left off the honey jar. Anyone who didn’t live with a brownie might think it was carelessness. But it was really a silent message that she needed to stop by the local apiary for a refill.

As a rule, Brownies refused to take payment for their housework. But they loved honey and became miffed if the owner of their house allowed the supply to dwindle.

She cradled her steaming mug in her hands and carried it to the open back door. Leaning against the frame, she surveyed her wildflower garden.

The air smelled of fresh rain, loamy soil, and green, growing things. The blue-eyed-grass and golden-samphire were blooming, a sea of purple and yellow creating a tranquil setting for her first workout of the day.

She rolled her neck and shoulders to loosen the muscles, then drained her cup and jogged through the misty morning drizzle until she was beneath the cover of her workout area. She stretched and gave her rack of weapons a cursory glance before opting to practice her hand fighting. She obviously needed it since she’d almost allowed a human to best her last night.

Agent Derrington’s image flashed through her mind. Skin as smooth and rich as caramel softened the rugged planes of his face. Deep mahogany eyes pierced her with their intelligence. But there had been something gentle about them as well. Something that calmed her and stirred her pulse at the same time.

She shook off the thought and dropped into a stance, beginning a set of alternating punches and kicks and trying to lose herself in the rhythm. She’d been training every day since she was seventeen years old. It gave her confidence and strength knowing that she could fight her way out of any situation.

Her people, the sidhe, were immortal warriors who traditionally began sword practice at age eighteen. But she’d started a year early. Pat had been training for the Seelie Police Academy, and she’d begged him to teach her the sword, as well as the other martial arts styles he was learning.

All of the hours they’d spent training together had set the village rumors about them flying. But they’d never been romantically interested in one another. It was just that being with him, and learning how to defend herself, had been the only things that made her feel safe after the rape.

She fumbled a kick and nearly lost her footing.

She cursed under her breath, hating her mistake, and hating even more the memories that came to the surface whenever she spent time in the human realm.

They were like poison lurking in the darkest corners of her psyche. Sometimes she flushed them out of her system for a while, but they always came seeping back to torment her.

The thought of the rape itself made her want to squeeze her thighs together and never let anyone touch her between them again. But just as bad was the humiliation. The self recrimination over putting herself in a situation where it could happen in the first place. And the helpless shame that she hadn’t fought harder and gotten away from the men before they could debase her like that.

She was an immortal warrior, for goddess’ sake. If she couldn’t fight them off, she should have at least blinked away from them. But she’d frozen. How stupid was that? She was a magical being, and she’d let a couple of disgusting humans rape her.

Scarlett felt a sharp pain in her finger and looked down to see that she’d picked at her cuticle until it was raw and bleeding. She sighed and walked over to the shelf where she kept her healing dust.

It was always like this. As if once the memory resurfaced, her mind wouldn’t let it go until it played through every miserable angle of the experience, leaving her a quivering pile of nerves in its wake.

It was her day off from teaching sword techniques, but she knew better than to sit at home and stew in her memories. She had to find something to keep her busy.

Preferably something that would tire her out enough to ward off the inevitable insomnia, and the reliving of her torment behind closed eyelids that refused to conjure sleep. It was nights like those that had led to her escaping into the oblivion of Morpheus far more often than she knew she should.

She showered, pulled on clean workout clothes, and headed to the center of her village to find a sparring partner.

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

“What up, G-man?” Liza’s cheerful voice chirped through the cell phone.

“How’s my favorite crime analyst this morning?” Grey asked.

“Jealous,” she pouted. “How’s F.L.? You bang any surfer chicks yet?”

Grey chuckled. What did he care about surfer chicks? The newest star of his fantasies was a tough strawberry blonde with sea-green eyes and a soft Irish brogue.

“You know I only have eyes for you, Lizzie,” he teased.

Liza snorted. “Right. I’ve heard that before…usually around the time a guy decides to cheat on me and dump me.”

“You are far too young to be that jaded,” Grey replied with a shake of his head.

“Pfft,” she scoffed. “I’m an old soul. It’s the only thing that gets me through in this line of work. Besides, you know I never let them get away with it. The last guy ended up with his bank account flagged for fraud and his credit cards cancelled.”

“I did not just hear that, Liza.”

She sniggered. “Don’t worry G-man. My hacks are tasty and untraceable. You couldn’t prove it even if you tried.”

Grey pushed air through his teeth to make a static sound. “Sorry, I didn’t catch any of that. I think we have a bad connection.”

“Fine,” Liza relented with a laugh. “You can stop now, Captain America. I won’t say anything else to incriminate myself.”

“Oh, there you are,” Grey said with feigned relief. “I thought I’d lost you.”

“Hysterical,” Liza replied drily.

“I try,” Grey said with a grin. “So, what do you have for me today?”

“It’s not good,” Liza answered, her tone turning somber. “We have another vic. And this time she’s right here in Virginia. Woodbridge, to be exact.”

“Damn it to hell,” Grey cursed. “Are you sure it’s him?”

“She lived alone and her house was locked up tight. Same lack of evidence at the scene and on the body. And same weird, herby smell,” she replied quietly.

“Can you call the office and ask them to book me a flight back this morning?” he said in a tight voice.

“Done and done. You’re on the ten thirty from Miami to Dulles. The county Sherriff is expecting you this afternoon.”

“Thanks Lizzie.” He hung up and let out a chain of expletives.

Could the bastard be taunting him, choosing a victim so close to his home base?

He shoved his toiletries and change of clothes in his travel bag and headed out the door. He would have liked to spend a little more time at the Key Largo scene, but he’d have to rely on his notes.

It was more important to hit this new scene while it was fresh. And it was an hour’s drive to the airport—he barely had time to make his flight.

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

Quinlan frowned at the glint in Scarlett’s eye as she strode purposefully toward the training center. He’d seen that look before, and it usually meant he and the boys’d be in for a rash of bruises before the day was done.

“Hiya, Letty. I thought ya were off today.”

“I am,” she replied with a thin smile. “But that’s no reason to let you gobshites get soft in the sparring ring.”

“Uh oh, we’re in trouble now,” her cousin Thom sniggered, earning a laugh from a few of the younger trainees who were visiting from a nearby village.

She arched a brow at him. “You’re first then.”

Thom’s eyes widened, and then he shook his head in defeat, sending his boyish blonde curls bouncing. “Have it your way cousin. But take it easy on me, will ya? Ya know I was only codding ya.”

Scarlett flashed him a grin. “Don’t worry Tommy Boy. I’ll stay away from your delicate parts this time.”

“All o’ Thom’s parts are delicate,” razzed Aedan, a grizzled old warrior who’d fought with her father in the last Unseelie uprising.

She’d only been a baby at the time, but Pat’s father had been killed in that battle.

Aedan chuckled at the younger man’s scowl. “Don’ worry, Thom. Letty’ll toughen ya up. Spend enough time sparrin’ wit her an’ yer calluses’ll have calluses.”

“Aye. That’s what I’m afraid of,” Thom muttered as he made his way toward the middle of the ring.

The training center was a large, open air arena at the heart of the village. Circled by colorful local shops, it was a daily hub of activity for the residents.

Earth magic kept its grassy carpet verdant and thick, which served to soften a fall as well as any sparring mat. And though it lacked a roof, it was spelled against the elements so that classes and matches could be held in comfort during summer rains and winter snows.

Five fighting rings were clustered at its center, and Scarlett always went for the one in the middle. When fists and weapons were flying in all five rings, she loved to be at the core of all that energy, pretending she was in the midst of a great battle.

“What’s your poison, Thom?” she asked as she strode to the nearest rack of sickles, knives, axes and other assorted weaponry. “Swords?” She trailed her fingers over the hilt of a dull edged practice blade.

Thom scoffed. “Against you? Not bleedin’ likely.”

Their cousin Quinlan laughed, and Scarlett hid a smile. Only the most seasoned warriors would spar swords with her and the entire village knew it.

Every sidhe learned to summon their own soul bound long sword as part of their passage into adulthood. When she’d gotten hers, she’d honed her technique to a razor’s edge. It was her personal guarantee that she’d be able to defend herself whenever she needed to.

“The shillelagh, then?” she asked, half teasing, and Thom groaned. The last time they’d practiced stick fighting his dangly bits had gotten a wee bruised. It wasn’t intentional, but nor was it something he was likely to forget.

“Can’t we just have an old-fashioned hand to hand match?” he pleaded, his eyes flickering toward the group of visiting trainees. A pretty lass, about his age, was watching their proceedings with interest.

“Fine then,” Scarlett agreed on a laugh as she abandoned the weapons rack and joined him in the center of the ring.

She eyed him critically as they circled each other. “Your defensive form has improved,” she complimented in a quiet tone.

Pleasure flashed across Thom’s face and she smiled. He matched her in height, but she was lean and lithe compared to his awkward mix of youthful softness and burgeoning muscle.

He struck out with a quick jab, which she easily ducked. “Good speed,” she encouraged, “but don’t drop your guard,” she added as she snapped a hook at his exposed cheek. She purposely didn’t make contact, but it was enough to startle him and make him pay attention.

She went round with him until he was winded, giving him a few thumps and allowing him to make a show of coming close to hitting her. Finally she took advantage of his waning concentration and swept his leg, maneuvering him into a wrist lock as he stumbled.

Should have led with that move on Agent Derrington last night, she thought with a smirk as Thom submitted to the threat of a broken wrist. Might have saved me some sore ribs.

“It was a fine match,” she said, patting Thom on the back as he rose.

He gave her a good natured grin despite his bruises and rejoined his friends, who were gazing at her with newfound respect. The pretty young girl leaned in and said something to him, and the other visiting trainees nodded in excitement.

“Uh, Cousin Letty,” he began, looking torn between wanting to please the girl and not wanting to provoke Scarlett, “they want to see ya fight the swords. With one of the older warriors,” he added quickly.

Scarlett laughed, resisting the urge to tease him again in front of his friends. “Come join me with a sword, Quin,” she called, tipping her chin in a beckoning motion.

She felt limber and warmed up after sparring with Thom, and she wanted to keep going. Physical distraction was exactly what she needed today.

“Why is it always me ya choose to show up in front of an audience?” Quinlan jibed as he strode over to the weapons rack and grabbed a couple of practice blades. His meaty, tattooed fists tested them for heft and balance, and then he tossed one to Scarlett.

“You know it’s only because I love you, cousin,” she replied, snatching the blade deftly out of the air. “And perhaps you’ll beat me this time.”

Quin snorted and shook his shaggy orange head. “Perhaps with an axe. But with a sword? That hasn’t happened in nigh over a hundred years.”

“Maybe your skill has surpassed mine since last we tested it,” Scarlett replied with a shrug.

“Remember that, lads an’ lasses,” Aedan called to their young audience from an adjacent sparring ring. “A wise warrior envisions victory without allowin’ overconfidence ta cloud her judgment.” The aged veteran winked at Scarlett as he deflected a swing from his opponent’s sickle.

She grinned at him as she adjusted her grip on her practice blade and settled into a relaxed stance a sword’s length from Quin.

“I don’t think wise platitudes are going to aid me against ya today,” Quin murmured as he struck an opening thrust.

She intercepted it and pulsed her blade against his to push it out of the way. “Oh no? I always find Aedan’s advice to be sage and helpful.”

She smiled faintly, refusing to be distracted as she adjusted her field of vision to take in Quinlan’s massive frame, trying to anticipate his next move.

He feinted a downward cut to open up her guard so he could strike her from the side. His thrusts were swift and powerful, but she wasn’t fooled. Her blade met his with a ringing clash as she pivoted to step behind him.

Quin rushed to regain his fighting distance, barely managing to deflect her answering attack, his ribs receiving a hard jab from her sword pommel for his trouble. He winced and their young audience sucked in a collective breath. Scarlett was so fiercely focused, she barely heard them.

“That’s what I mean. Ya have that look in your eye today, Letty—the one that says no one who joins ya in the ring is going to leave unscathed.”

She frowned at him, keeping her footwork nimble in case he was trying to distract her for his next attack. “And just what do you mean by that? Are you saying I’m being too hard on you, Quin?”

She saw an opening and sent a quick, playful jab toward his chest. It wasn’t meant to connect, merely to illustrate his carelessness. He leapt back with a rueful laugh, shaking his head as he rejoined her.

“That wasn’t too rough for you, was it?” she whispered with a smirk.

“Ya know I wouldn’t suggest ya downplay your combat skills for anyone,” he chided softly. “All I’m saying is that I can always tell when something’s on your mind.”

He twisted his wrists and his sword swept around in a lightning fast arc, almost catching her off guard. She met his blade just before it struck her shoulder, her arms straining as she bound its momentum with her own in a resounding clash of metal against metal.

Knowing she was no match for his brute strength, she sidestepped and allowed her muscles to go slack. His sword flew downward, missing her by a hair, and she jabbed him angrily in the ribs with her pommel again.

She glared at him as they regained their distance and faced each other once more.

“I’m not trying to piss ya off, Letty,” Quin said with a sigh. “I’m telling ya I know something’s wrong and I wish ya’d tell me what it is. Every so often ya show up here with that steely glint in your eye, your finger bloody like ya’ve been worrying it with your teeth,” he tilted his head toward her hands where they gripped her sword. “And ya leave everyone ya spar with a bit more bruised than usual.”

He glanced meaningfully down at his ribs and she gave him an apologetic grimace. Her last jab had been vicious and angry, aimed at the spot where she’d hit him before. It wasn’t in the spirit of a practice match, especially one with weapons.

Even if he’d been distracting her with observations she didn’t care to hear.

She had never imagined her emotions were so transparent to him. It made her uncomfortable to think someone else might have noticed.

“I’m sorry, Quin,” she replied softly. “My lack of control was careless.”

She sliced at him in a quick, threatening attack, anticipating his counter thrust and using its power to push her blade back in the opposite direction. Her sweeping upward circle landed the blunt edge against the pulsing vein in his neck.

There was no doubt it would have been a deadly strike in a real fight, and Quin smiled wanly. “I believe the match is yours as usual, cousin.”

Thom and his friends cheered, and Quin bowed to her as he stepped back. “Shall we go again?” he offered.

Normally she would have accepted, but her mood for sparring had soured. “I think I’m done for the day.”

He frowned as he followed her out of the ring. “What I said wasn’t meant to upset ya, Letty,” he told her quietly. “It’s something I’ve noticed for years, but I’ve seen it in ya more often of late. I just wanted ya to know that I’m here if ya need to talk about anything.”

Scarlett closed her eyes for a moment and then turned to face him. “I appreciate your concern, Quin. But it’s probably just the stress from Doyle’s human wedding ceremony.”

He arched an orange brow at her. “Ya expect me to believe ya’re all narky from having to put on a pretty dress and get your hair done?”

Scarlett couldn’t help but laugh, though it was partially true. “As if that wouldn’t make you narky?”

Quin snorted, his gray eyes sparkling with humor. “I dunno. I think I might quite like having a bonnie lass fuss over me with a comb. And as for wearing a skirt, my Scottish friends seem to find them downright comfy.”

Scarlett gave him a playful shove and he grabbed her hand, pulling a small bag of faerie dust from his pocket and sprinkling some over her finger where she’d started to pick at it again.

“Why don’t ya tell me what’s really botherin’ ya?” he suggested as he released her.

She sighed, knowing he wasn’t going to let it go unless she gave him something more believable. “It wasn’t just playing dress-up, it was also having to sit through about a hundred posed photographs with camera lights flashing in my face.”

He looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to continue.

She groaned at his persistence. “And then at the reception, as soon as they opened the bar, some piss artist who was already in his cups wanted to get friendly with me.”

Quin’s eyes darkened. “I hope ya told Pat. If I’d have been there...Oof,” he grunted and clutched his side where she’d punched him.

“I don’t need you or Pat to rescue me, Quinlan Ursan. I can take care of myself.”

She gave him a stormy look and he held his hands up in surrender. “That I know ya can, Letty Thresher. But I’ll never not want to thrash some sot who tries to paw ya at a pub.”

She sighed irritably. “He didn’t try to paw me, exactly. He was just lushing and being generally annoying.”

Quin nodded and clicked his tongue at her. “I see. Well what is it that has ya so out of sorts, then? Because nothing ya’ve said so far sounds particularly dire.”

Scarlett hesitated and Quin’s eyes softened. “Ya know ya can tell me anything, Letty.”

She knew it was true. Quin had a kind heart and could match wits with anyone in their village, despite his fierce appearance. He would probably even keep her secret if she asked him to.

But she couldn’t bring herself to tell him. It was bad enough to admit how powerless she’d been. But it was downright embarrassing to admit that she was still having panic attacks over something that had happened almost two hundred years ago.

She massaged her temple and tried to think of an explanation he’d accept. Before she realized what she was doing, she found herself telling him about Agent Derrington.

“I went for a walk to clear my head and I came across a man. He was lurking in the darkness near some bushes, and I assumed he was up to no good, so I attacked him. He turned out to be a policeman.”

Quin’s eyes widened. “Ya attacked a human peeler?” he asked incredulously. “What did he do?”

Scarlett nibbled her lip and tried not to smile. “He defended himself. Quite vigorously.”

Quin roared with laughter, startling a nearby class of trainees and earning a stern look from old Fianna, who was leading them in a meditation exercise. Quin mouthed an apology and placed a hand on Scarlett’s back to lead her to a more secluded corner.

“Bad craic, Letty! Was he very angry? He didn’t try to arrest ya did he?” He snorted with mirth, as if the thought amused more than concerned him.

Scarlett chuckled. “No. We had a bit of a tussle. Then he backed off and tried to reassure me that he was no threat.”

“I’ll bet he did,” Quin grunted, pride and affection shining in his eyes. “Mustn’t have taken him long to realize he wouldn’t best ya in a fight. But why was he lurkin’ in the bushes in the first place?”

Scarlett shifted uncomfortably. “He said he was investigating a murder. But the strange thing is, Quin, I smelled a Morpheus potion on him. I use it for insomnia sometimes and it’s very…distinctive. That’s why I was so quick to attack him. I thought he meant to use it on me.”

A deep crease appeared between Quin’s bushy brows. “What the bollox would a human policeman be doin’ with a Morpheus potion?”

“I don’t think he had one,” she replied quietly. “I think he picked up the scent from his crime scene.”

Quin’s eyes widened in understanding. “Shite, did ya tell Pat?”

Scarlett shook her head. “Not yet,” she admitted. “We got into a bit of a tiff at the wedding and I haven’t spoken to him since.”

“Ah, Letty,” he said softly, “I know ya don’t want to admit how hard it was for ya to see Pat with his new lady friend at yer brother’s weddin’. But if ya think someone from our realm murdered a human, ya’ve got to tell him.”

Scarlett blinked at him with the dawning comprehension that he thought the cause of her ‘narkiness’ in the sparring ring was her supposed unrequited love for Pat. The realization both relieved and annoyed her.

She’d never seen fit to correct the assumptions that she was holding a torch for Pat. Letting her kin believe that was easier than explaining why she’d never been interested in dating someone else.

But for Quin to believe that she’d withhold information from Pat about such a horrible crime because of it...well, that was just insulting.

“I’m not bajanxed, Quin,” she snapped. “I have every intention of telling him.”

“Of course ya do,” he agreed quickly. “I didn’t mean to suggest...” he faltered, his massive, heavily inked shoulders drooping in resignation. “I’m sorry, Letty. I’ve upset ya again, and I didn’t mean to.”

Her scowl melted away and she sighed. “I know you didn’t, Quin. And I’m on my way to tell Pat today.”

He smiled in relief and pulled her into a bear hug. “I’m glad we had this talk,” he rumbled.

“Me too,” she murmured, her remaining annoyance dissolving as she hugged him back.

It was impossible to stay mad at her cousin. Even if he was a giant idiot sometimes.