Night Myst (Indigo Court #1)

Night Myst (Indigo Court #1) Page 5

But something was different . . . While Chatter's eyes still glistened pale blue, the blue of cornflowers, Grieve's had changed. They'd grown dark--no white showed, and no pupils, just glistening ebony orbs. But unlike a vamp's, scattered amid the inky blackness sparkled a field of glowing white stars. Like the woman in Rhiannon's vision.

"Grieve . . . what happened to you?" My whisper sliced through the silence, my heart thudding in my chest. As I took a step forward, Ulean hissed in my ear, stopping me.

Be cautious, be careful.

I paused, tuning in to the energy and went reeling. Grieve had an edge to him that I didn't remember, a palpable arrogance. Chatter--not so much. But Grieve felt wary, almost hostile.

I caught my breath, wanting to throw myself in his arms, but I restrained myself and gave them a gentle nod. Play it light, keep it superficial at first.

"I'm back, boys. I'm home. To stay. Did you miss me?"

Chatter broke the silence first. He held out his arms, pulling me close.

"Dear Cicely. Of course we missed you. We heard word on the wind that you were home." He smelled like sweet grass and raspberries and his hug ran through me like sheets fresh from the dryer on a cold night.

"But you shouldn't be here. Not now. You need to leave the wood," he whispered so low I had a feeling that even Grieve couldn't hear him. "Before the dark comes, get out of here for your own safety."

I stepped back, staring into his eyes. He looked frightened.

"Chatter--I missed you." I turned to Grieve, hesitating before I said, "I missed you, too." Please, oh please, don't reject me.

Grieve held back. He didn't reach out like Chatter had. "You returned." There was a hint of distrust in his voice and he looked angry. "I thought you were done with me. With New Forest. You said as much, last time."

"I guess I deserve that," I said, stung even though I knew he had every right to be angry. I scuffed the ground. "Are you so unhappy to see me?"

He took a step back and shook his head. "You must leave. You have to get out of this wood. Now. And stay away, especially during the night." But as he watched my face, his eyes lit up and the tip of his tongue crept out to lick the corner of his lips.

Confused, I wasn't sure what to think but my body answered for me, hunger welling up as I watched his thick, full lips curl into the hint of a smile. Just the look of him made me want to reach out and . . . Touch me, take me, taste me, feel me, hold me. My wolf let loose a low growl, hungry.

Grieve had implanted himself on my heart years ago, the roots taking strong hold. His rejection hurt, even though I knew I'd brought it on myself.

"If I'm so unwelcome, why are you worried about me?" I crossed my arms. "I can take care of myself, you know."

"You're the one who should be worried, Cicely," Grieve said, his eyes narrowing. A hint of threat rode the wind and I eyed him cautiously. Oh yes, Grieve had changed drastically.

Never show fear if you're not sure whether they're friend or foe. Lesson number twenty-nine from Uncle Brody, an old black man who lived in the first rooming house we'd stayed in after leaving the Veil House. I still thanked that old geezer. He gave me a running start--his cautions a guidebook to living the life into which my mother had dragged me.

"I'm not six years old anymore. Too old to be captured for a changeling."

"Not the subject to joke about. Not now, not here." Grieve slowly reached out for my hand. "You've fully grown up. You're more beautiful than you were the last time you came to visit." His gaze raked over me like hot coals.

"I'm home to stay, Grieve. Marta's dead and I'm taking over her business."

I froze, forcing myself to breathe normally as he took hold of my hand and brought it to his lips where, one by one, he brushed a kiss against each fingertip, soft silk against my skin. Slowly, he turned my arm so my palm was facing up, and lowered his lips to my wrist. I closed my eyes, sinking into his touch. I remembered that touch, those lips.

His feral smile was punctuated by dimples that were neither cute nor comforting. Sharp, brilliant white teeth shone against the dim light of the forest, and, as I watched, he grazed my skin with them, leaving a trail of thin, red marks from two tiny fangs I'd never noticed before.

What the fuck . . . What was he doing? Biting me?

My skin welted up and a flush raced from the wounds through my bloodstream. I was spinning, like when I had the flu or the one time I'd eaten tuna fish and ended up passing out from an allergic reaction.

As the spiraling heat flared through me, all I could think about was what it would feel like if he took hold with those teeth and never let go. Common sense warred with my body. I shook my head to clear my mind, and managed to throw off the glamour.

Chatter shook his head, looking browbeat. "Grieve . . . please . . . not her." He stepped forward, stopping as Grieve motioned with his other hand. "Grieve, she's our Cicely."

"Hush. You talk too much, Chatter." Grieve never took his gaze from my face. Afraid to make any sudden move, I kept silent as Grieve brought his hand to my mouth.

As he traced my lips, I slowly parted them, unable to resist as he slid a finger just barely inside. I slowly wrapped my tongue around it, tasting him gently. Cloyingly sweet, like sugared dates. He tasted different than I remembered. I tried to back away, but he grabbed my wrist and held fast, staring into my eyes.

Ulean brushed by me on the wind. Don't lose yourself to him. It's not safe here. Snap out of it. Wake and beware.

The abrupt sting of her touch against my skin cleared my thoughts again. I forced myself to focus. "Grieve, let go of me. Now."

His brow narrowed and a nasty look crossed his face, but he acquiesced. I slowly backed away, then hopped onto a deadfall where I brushed away the snow and squatted, my chin on my hands, elbows resting on my knees. I knew two things: Grieve had changed, and change or not, I still wanted him. I was ready to curl up inside his embrace for good.

When I felt steady enough, I said, "What the fuck's going on, guys? What's happening out here?"

The dark look fading, Grieve shook his head. "Go. Don't stick around this town, Cicely."

Chatter spoke up. "It's bad, Cicely. We've lost so much over the past few years--"

"Shut up," Grieve said, not even glancing at him. Chatter closed his mouth and bowed his head, looking contrite. I caught sight of a series of bruises on the back of his neck that looked like thumbprints. Please tell me Grieve didn't do that . . . but I didn't say anything. I couldn't bear to think the marks were Grieve's doing.

I tried to sort out the interaction between them. Grieve was a prince in the Court of Rivers and Rushes, nephew to Lainule, the Queen. Chatter was his cousin, but not one of the nobility. Grieve had always been a control freak, but he'd been fair. Now, his heightened sense of authority set me on edge. Chatter had always been jovial. Now he darted glances over his shoulder. He reminded me of a whipped puppy.

"People have died. You know that, don't you? Members of the Thirteen Moons Society are dying and disappearing. Marta is dead, her throat ripped out. Heather, my aunt, is missing." I stared at Grieve, forcing myself to not break eye contact.

Chatter glanced at Grieve, who gave him one shake of the head.

After a moment, Grieve said, "I'm going to tell you this once, and only once. And I only tell you because I once loved you. Convince your cousin that it's in her best interest to leave. Take her and get out of town. This wood . . . all of New Forest . . . is now ruled by Myst, the Mistress of Mayhem, Queen of the Indigo Court. Any more than this would be unhealthy for you to know."

Once loved you . . . I reeled, but tried to keep my composure. I'd known he probably wouldn't wait for me, but the proof hit me like a sledgehammer in the gut. And then I realized he'd mentioned the Indigo Court, and a cold sweat washed over me. What did Grieve have to do with Rhiannon's vision?

"Grieve, I'm staying. I missed you. And I need your help."

"Stick around and you'll get more than my help," he said, taunting me.

Tears sprang to my eyes, but I dashed them away. I wouldn't let him make me cry. "That sounds like a threat."

"Take it any way you want."

Sliding off the tree, I wiped my hands on the legs of my jeans. "Our roots are here. My aunt's home is here. She's a member of the Society." Impulsively, I added, "So, what will it take to get you to help me? You want me to beg? To cry? I will--for her life, I'll get down on my knees and beg your forgiveness."

Grieve's eyes flashed and he grabbed my arm again, twisting the leather of my sleeve. "Don't challenge me, Cicely. It's not safe."

The weight of his hand on my body was like fire.

Angry and embarrassed, I tried to pull away. "And don't you push me. I'm harder than you think, and I won't put up with anybody treating me like crap."

Grieve was dangerously close. The truth: I was afraid, but I knew better than to show it. This new Grieve scared the hell out of me, and yet--for all of his fierceness, the headiness I remembered was still there, compounded by whatever this new energy was. I wanted to push his buttons, to throw down the gauntlet. The wolf on my stomach growled, but whether in warning or challenge, I wasn't sure and right now, I didn't care.

"Listen to me and listen good. If you insist on being stupid and staying, then I can't help you. And I very well may . . ." He paused.

"You might what?"

"You are so beautiful and strong," he said, his voice husky. "Your energy still sings to me . . ." His lips were near my ear and his tongue flicked out to tickle my neck. I couldn't help myself. I pressed against him.

He fisted my hair, holding me fast as he whispered, "You know what the men of the Indigo Court do with beautiful women, don't you? You want to find out just how I've changed, don't you, Cicely? I could teach you what it means to be paramour to a dark prince."

"I refuse to play your game," I whispered back. "You can't frighten me."

One more inch and he'd be kissing me. As Grieve pressed his lips to my neck, I caught an odd smell. Dust and chill evenings under the autumn stars. Fields burnt to ashes and musk. The metallic tang of blood. A primal scent that set me on edge and reminded me of graveyards.

"Grieve!" Chatter's voice shattered the silence.

It also seemed to shatter Grieve's focus. He furrowed his brow and roughly shoved me away, ignoring me when I tripped over a root and fell into a soft pile of snow and leaves. "Don't come into the ravine again. Stick to the land around the house. Stay out of the town at night, and you might be safe. At least for now."

"But why is it dangerous for me to be here? What's out here? Why are you pushing me away? What's the Indigo Court? Tell me!"

Chatter backed away as Grieve motioned to him.

"Stubborn woman," Grieve said. "I don't want you here." But the tone of his voice said otherwise. "You don't belong here anymore, Cicely Waters, and if you insist on staying, there's nothing we can do to help you or your aunt. Take my advice and keep your nose out of the world of Fae. It's never been a safe place to play and it's far more dangerous now. Mortals are play toys . . . expendable. The magic-born are in danger."

He paused, then added, "Especially witches. Especially you."

A sudden gust rose up, blowing leaves and snow around my head. As I turned away, shading my eyes from the swirl, there was a quick noise and I heard a faint, "Goodbye, Cicely. It was good to see you again. I'm glad you're back but I sure wish things were different," whirling in the wind.

Chatter's voice. As quickly as it had come, the breeze died and I turned back to find both of them gone. I looked behind a few bushes, but could find no sign that they'd ever been there.

A moment later, a noise from a nearby tree startled me. The owl--a great horned owl--ears tufted up, eyes round and brilliant topaz in the dim afternoon, let out a deep, resonant series of five hoots, sending a chill up my spine as it stared at me with its round, glittering eyes. The bird was huge and I could swear it was studying me. Nervous, I backed away, heading toward the edge of the forest, stopping once to glance behind me. The owl still stared, like it was waiting for me to say something. Hurrying, I turned the bend and broke into the open.

As I raced back across the lawn to the house, Rhiannon and Leo were standing on the porch. When she caught sight of me, she hustled me inside.

"You look frozen through, and scared to death," she said, bustling me into the living room. "What happened? Did you find anything?"

I shook my head, barely able to find my voice. I didn't want to talk about Grieve, about how he'd changed and pushed me away.

"It's . . . Don't go in the woods. Please promise me that you won't go in the woods without me."

She gave me a long look, then nodded and let me go. "The lawyer's booked but he'll meet us in a couple of hours, after he gets off work. He'll meet us at Anadey's Diner."

"Fine. I need a bath." Even though I'd showered before we went out to search for Heather, I felt oddly dirty.

I jogged up to my room and began filling the bathtub with water as hot as I could stand. I poured in several caps of Heather's lavender bubble bath and the steam rose, working its magic as it began to calm me down. The encounter with Grieve had left me feeling like spiders were crawling over my body and I nervously scratched my arm as I waited for the water to warm up.

As the afternoon began to settle, an odd light flickered from somewhere deep in the Golden Wood. I closed my eyes to listen for anything the wind might have to say, but the only image I could see was that of a great horned owl, screeching in the trees. And its piercing shriek sounded for all the world like someone saying, "Leave this place, Cicely--leave while you still can."