Bedeviled Page 4

  “You try my patience,” he said, glaring at Maggie.

  “Hah! You’re the intruder here, Sparky.”

  “Are you really a Faery?” the girl asked.

  “Fae. I am Fae,” he said.

  “Picky, picky . . .”

  He scowled at Maggie again.

  “Then I’m kind of sorry I called the police,” the child said, and he shifted his glance to her. The younger Donovan seemed much more reasonable than her aunt. Besides, he admired strength wherever he found it, so he nodded at the girl.

  “Don’t be. You did what you should.”

  “They’ll be here any minute,” Maggie told him.

  “I won’t be here when they arrive.” He let his gaze move up and down the length of the woman who was foretold to be the hope of Otherworld and felt something quicken inside him. Her clothing didn’t exactly mark her as the savior of a race. Her jeans were paint spattered, but clung to her long legs and hugged every curve. Her shirt was ridiculous, but he enjoyed the way it displayed her full breasts. Her hair was a deep red with threads of gold brightening the darkness. Her eyes were blue, her mouth was full and, at the moment, curled into a sneer that he found offensive. Yet there was more here. He felt the crackle of energy in the air and wondered if she did, too—or was she still too human?

  Despite what his body might want, though, he wasn’t here for sex. She was the promised one, gods help him.

  To think it had come to this: a Fae warrior requiring the help of a mortal female. It was almost enough to convince him that perhaps prophecies weren’t all they were supposed to be. But even as that thought formed, he reminded himself that she’d shown him no fear. She had strength, courage. Everything she would need.

  The fact that he could spring from these ropes in an instant was meaningless. She had bested him. For the moment.

  She had actually managed to not only incapacitate him, however briefly, but surprise him as well, humiliating as it was to admit.

  The sneer she was giving him intensified, and Culhane felt his chest swell with indignation. Who was she to look at him as though he were no better than a good-for-nothing pixie? He was an elite warrior of the Fae, and no one in centuries had treated him with so little respect. She might be the hope of Otherworld, but without his assistance she was only fodder for the enemies she didn’t even know existed yet.

  “Won’t be here, huh? Just how were you planning to get out of those ropes?” Maggie tipped her head to one side and let her sugary sweet tone and self-satisfied smile tell him what she thought of him. “Eileen tied them, and she learned knots from the Girl Scouts. Trust me when I say those girls know a little something about—”

  “Enough of this.” Culhane shifted while she was speaking, sliding his body from one dimension to another and back again. With the shift, the ropes binding him came loose and dropped to the floor. He stood up, nudged the sleeping dog off his feet and looked at the woman who was at the heart of his troubles. “Ropes can’t hold me.”

  “Well, shit.” She stopped, glanced at the child and corrected herself. “Shoot.”

  “That was very cool.” The girl was looking at Culhane with renewed interest. “Like magic or something.”

  “Back up, Eileen. Stay away from this guy.” Maggie tried to shove the girl behind her, but Eileen wasn’t going willingly.

  “I’ve told you I won’t harm you or the child,” Culhane said again.

  “Well, sure, if a burglar gives you his word, why wouldn’t you believe him? Forgive me for not trusting the guy who broke into my house.”

  “I didn’t break in,” he told her. “I shifted. Just as you saw.”

  “Really?” Eileen prompted. “You can go through walls and stuff?”

  “I can.”

  “Whoa.”

  The wail of sirens sounded in the distance, and irritation crowded Culhane’s chest until he could hardly draw a breath. This was not how their meeting was to have gone. The woman was too distracted to listen to him. Her world was crowded and noisy, and apparently she had yet to come to terms with what had happened to her today.

  Now, with the human authorities arriving, Culhane was forced to leave before anything had been settled. Yet more irritation. “I have no time for your police.”

  “They’ll probably want you to make time.” Maggie kept a tight grip on the girl.

  Eileen was still shaking her head in awe. “Did you see that, Maggie? He, like, poofed right in front of us. And the knots are still tied. That was so great. Way cooler than that magician we watched on TV last month.”

  “Do you still have the pendant?” Culhane ignored the child and concentrated instead on the woman he’d come to see. As he watched, the blood drained from her face and her eyes became a dark, deep, troubled blue.

  “What do you know about that?”

  “What pendant?” Eileen demanded.

  “Do you have it?”

  “No,” she said. “It was broken. I left it.”

  “What pendant?” Eileen repeated. “And where’d you leave it?”

  The dog began to snore.

  “The pendant’s owner?”

  Maggie cringed a little, glanced at the girl beside her and hedged, “Gone.”

  “According to prophecy.”

  “What prophecy?” Eileen’s voice was getting louder in response to being ignored.

  “It was an accident, sort of,” Maggie told him.

  “Doesn’t matter. It happened as it was meant to. The dust touched you.”

  “There was dust in the pendant?” Eileen tugged on Maggie’s arm, but her aunt didn’t tear her gaze from Culhane’s.

  “Um . . . yeah. It did.”

  “I feel the power,” he said, taking one step closer to her, keeping their gazes locked. “Even now it’s taking you over.”

  “What is?” Eileen wanted to know. “Dust? How does dust take you over? Over into what? And what pendant?”

  “No, it’s not,” Maggie argued, holding up one hand to show him what was left of the faint glow in her fingertips. “It’s fading.”

  So much she didn’t know. So much she had to learn. “No, it’s not fading. It’s becoming a part of you. Becoming stronger.”

  Her jaw dropped and her eyes looked even wider than before. If she became much paler she would simply blend in with the white cabinets behind her. “What?”

  “Aunt Maggie . . .”

  “Not now, sweetie.” Maggie looked at her hands, then at him, and Culhane felt her fear. Good. She should be afraid. Gods knew he wasn’t looking forward to this any more than she was.

  “Look, this is all some kind of mistake.” Maggie held her niece close to her side. “I’m sure we can work something out. Maybe I could go get the pendant and have it fixed.”

  “It wouldn’t change anything.”

  “You know,” she said, as if her fear were slowly being replaced by a sense of outrage, “I’ve had a really crappy day. And I’m done talking about all of this. So unless you want to take a fun ride in a squad car with some nice officers, I suggest you hit the road.”

  “You’re telling me to leave?” He couldn’t believe her audacity. “I leave when I decide to, and I return the same way. As much as you would wish to ignore everything that’s happened today, there is no going back now, Maggie Donovan. You can’t undo what happened any more than I can.” He stepped into a pale wash of light sliding through the kitchen window. Outside, clouds filled the skies and a storm built its fury.

  Inside, a storm of another kind was building.

  “You’re the one.” Culhane stood tall and straight, looking down into her eyes, willing her to feel the inevitability of this moment. He drew on his centuries of power, of strength of command, to impart to her the gravity of the situation they all found themselves in. “This is immutable. I’ve waited. Watched. But that is over now. Your time of destiny has arrived.”

  She looked from him to the girl and back again. Then she smiled. “Sure it has.”


  He sighed.

  Pulling Eileen even closer to her, she wrapped both arms around the girl and glared at him. “I don’t know what you’re trying to pull, but the cops are almost here, so if you’re planning a stealthy escape you might want to work on that.”

  “I’ll be back,” he told her as the sirens outside abruptly cut off.

  “Nice Arnold imitation.”

  “Arnold?”

  “Never mind.”

  Culhane took a step closer as pounding sounded from the front of the house. The human police were here, demanding entry. “There’s much to explain—without the child involved.”

  “Excuse me,” the young one interrupted. “I’m not a child. I’m almost thirteen. Well, I will be in ten months.”

  Culhane held up one hand for silence, and Maggie looked dumbfounded when he got it. From the front of the house came the frantic pounding of fists and the explosive shouts of the police. He fought a fresh burst of impatience. None of this was going as he had planned. But then, dealing with mortals was always fraught with exasperation.

  “When your police have left, I’ll return.” Then he shifted again and couldn’t stop himself from smiling—just a bit—when he heard the child say, “So cool.”

  By the time the police were gone, Maggie figured she’d had a full enough day for anybody. Instead of trying to cook, she picked up the phone, ordered pizza for her and Eileen and tried to forget about everything that had happened.

  Not easy to do when your brand-new, surprisingly annoying superstrength kept intruding. Sure, it had come in handy when she opened a bottle of wine. But snapping the doorknob off in her hand was a pain in the ass, and she didn’t want to think about having to replace the showerhead. Hmm. Although . . . maybe she’d get one of those water-massage things this time.

  With the way her luck with men was going, a shower-massage orgasm sounded like way less trouble.

  Just the thought of the word orgasm had Maggie twitching uncomfortably on the couch, which upset Sheba, asleep beside her on the cushions, so much that it actually forced the dog to roll over. “Sorry,” Maggie muttered, stroking one hand down her lazy dog’s back.

  Sheba wouldn’t understand about the orgasm thing anyway. She’d been spayed at six months. But for Maggie, it had been so long since she’d had a good, solid, earth-shaking orgasm, she could hardly remember what it felt like. Joe had not only been boring, but surprisingly untalented in certain areas—not that she wanted to speak ill of the eaten. Then up popped this burglar in suede pants and leather boots, and all of a sudden Maggie was imagining all sorts of interesting things.

  Her body was clenched, and she had to will it into submission. “Get a grip, Maggie. Not only did the guy disa-freaking-ppear right in front of you, but he’s some kind of nut, too.”

  But then, how had he known about the pendant? About what had happened to her earlier? Had he been following her? Did he know what that thing in Joe’s office was?

  Frowning, she pushed Culhane the weird from her mind and shouted out, “Hey, kiddo, you finished with your homework?”

  “Almost. Want to help me with my math?”

  Maggie laughed, half turned on the couch and waited for Eileen to poke her head around the hallway door. They both knew all too well that Maggie’s relationship with math was sketchy at best. “Did you really ask me that?”

  The girl grinned. “Just kidding.”

  God, having Eileen here with her was really turning into a gift. No better way to avoid thinking about a certain annoying male than to focus on the kid you were babysitting. “I figured. Did you call your mom?”

  “Not yet. I will, though, before I go to bed.”

  “Okay.” Maggie checked the clock on the wall. “You’ve got a half hour before lights-out.”

  “Got it.” Eileen smiled. “Unless, of course, you want to be a totally cool aunt and let me stay up to watch Supernatural.”

  “Nice try,” Maggie told her, remembering Nora’s strict instructions on TV time and bedtimes. The woman would have made a great general. Nora might be a little flaky about her own life, but she ran Eileen’s with discipline and structure. “I’ll tape it for you, though, and you can watch it tomorrow.”

  Eileen’s narrow shoulders slumped. “Fine. But I’ll be the only one in school tomorrow who doesn’t know what happened. Your only niece, the one who loves you, will be completely left out of the discussions about Jensen Ackles. I’ll be ostracized by my peers, but don’t let that worry you. I’ll probably get over it after years of therapy. . . .”

  Maggie grinned. “Any seventh grader who can use the word ostracize in a sentence is already standing out in a crowd. I’ll risk it.”

  “Fine.” How Eileen managed to look disappointed and haughty all at once was a mystery, but she managed. When she slammed her bedroom door for emphasis, Maggie just chuckled.

  “God, ‘normal’ is such a great thing,” Maggie murmured.

  Determined to push Culhane and everything else out of her mind, Maggie focused on some stupid reality show playing on television. As she paid attention, she told herself that TV was really sinking to a new low. Had they completely run out of ideas? This show was supposed to be about a woman choosing her mate from a group of gorgeous demons.

  “Oh, please. What a stupid gimmick. Demons? Who believes this shit?” She punched the button on the remote and stabbed it so hard the damn thing splintered in her hand. “Perfect.” Now she was stuck watching the show because she was too lazy to get up and change the channel by hand.

  But after a few minutes even Maggie was interested. Apparently set in La Sombra, a town in northern California, the show featured some truly gorgeous “demons.” As she watched, her mind started wandering back to earlier that day. If these guys were demons, then maybe what she’d seen in Joe’s office was one, too. Seriously challenged on the attractiveness meter, but . . .

  Was it possible? Were there actually demons out there?

  A second or two later she laughed at herself. “Come on, Maggie, demons? What’s next? Bachelor vampires?”

  “Vampires wouldn’t show up on television.”

  “Yow!”

  The air rippled in front of her, blurring her view of the television set. Before she had time to worry that she was being struck blind, though, the blurry effect ended and Culhane was standing there in all his leather-covered glory. So much for normal.

  “We will talk now.”

  “You have got to stop doing that.” Maggie jumped off the couch, but instead of landing she just kept on going up and up and . . . “Hey!”

  She looked down and saw that she was actually floating. “Ohmigod.” Already a few feet off the floor, she pinwheeled her arms frantically, trying to get back down where she belonged. That didn’t work, though, and she probably looked like she was doing the backstroke or something. Stomach churning, throat tight, her gaze flashed to her own personal pain in the butt. He was smiling.

  The bastard.

  “Are you doing this to me? Because if you are, this is not funny.”

  “I’m not the one doing it.” One jet-black eyebrow lifted. “Your power is growing.”

  “Power? This isn’t power. This is floating. I don’t want to float. I want to stand.” Not entirely true. What she wanted to do was lie down with an ice bag on her head and a glass of wine close at hand.

  Instead she was still rising. This couldn’t be good. Looking down at Culhane, her sleeping dog and the living room, she idly noted that she really needed to vacuum. And dust. Especially the top of the entertainment center. Good God.

  “Get me down from here.”

  “I think not,” he said, sitting on the couch, where she’d been only a moment before. Stretching out his incredibly long legs, he rested them on the coffee table and crossed his feet at the ankles. Beside him Sheba the Wonder Dog slept on.

  Maggie looked around desperately for something to grab onto so she could lower herself to the floor. But she’d waited too long. Now ther
e was nothing within reach, and as her head bumped the ceiling, she winced and glared down at the man below her.

  “If you’re ready to listen to me, I’ll help you down.” He folded his hands atop his flat abdomen and looked comfortable enough to stay there all night.

  “Help me down first. How can I listen to you when I’m floating?” She braced her hands on the ceiling and shoved. For a second it worked. Her body lowered a little, but then she bobbed back up to the ceiling again. Weird to know how those giant balloon animals in the Macy’s parade must feel.