Page 77 of Redeemed
I don’t want to test their tolerance by walking through the lobby. Instead, I pull the shadows around me and my burden. I stop just inside, casting around for the stairs. There. A door, next to the elevators. I take them two at a time, climbing the six flights to our room. When I get there, I can’t knock with the Princess in my arms, and it would be rude to walk in unannounced. I simply call his name.
“Connor.”
The door pops open like he’s been waiting right inside. “Dia á sábháil. You’re here.”
Our gazes lock, a jumble of words we can’t say. He flicks a glance at the Princess, then steps aside so I can enter.
Brodie, the one from the Elites, is stretched out on one bed, and Sheena’s in the chair. Brodie gives me a sleepy grin and closes his eyes, as if he thinks we’ll have privacy if he isn’t looking.
“David.” Connor’s husky cry pulls my attention back to him.
“Where is he? I can’t find him.”
Connor’s expression tightens and he stares across the room. “In the house. Jacques’ house in Malibu.”
The dread I’d been running from now weighs down my limbs. The Princess is unbearably heavy, and moving slowly so neither of us shatter, I set her down on the other bed. “I left him on the beach. He had…others, and I needed to get the Princess away. It’s…my fault. I shouldn’t have left him.”
“I left him too,” a new voice says.
I spin in his direction, tensed for a fight. Marcus is looking as shabby as I am.
“When you took off, one of them followed you.” Marcus grimaces. “David told me to go after him, so I did.”
I hadn’t sensed any pursuit. “You kill him?”
Marcus shrugged. “Yeah.”
“Thanks.”
“There were too many of them, though, and…”
Connor picked up when Marcus’s words faded. “Early this morning, we saw David, Abby, and Cliffe get marched into Jacques’ house.”
I collapse on the edge of the bed, hands covering my face. “Okay, so how do we get him out?”
“We don’t.” Connor hands me a folded piece of paper. Jacques’ familiar calligraphy makes a bad situation so much worse.
You have something I want, and I have something you want. I suggest a trade. Your minions have already scouted the location, and if necessary, I can perform the spell with a werewolf sacrifice. I suggest you arrive well before midnight.
J
“I have a plan.” Connor crouches next to me, his hands on my knees. “Mo shíorghrá, we can save him.”
“But the Princess…”
“We just needed to be sure you had her.” He doesn’t let go of me, shifting his weight so he’s sitting on his heels. “Are you satisfied,onóir amháin?”
I straighten, covering Connor’s hands with my own. A woman materializes, a crone. The Morrigan.
“We have a bargain,meascach.” She stands behind the couch, absently toying with one of Brodie’s blond dreads. He doesn’t seem to mind, but Marcus eases away from all of us. “I’ll create an identical copy of the body for you to offer in trade.”
“How long?” Connor sounds reluctant.
“Give me the real Princess.”
My gaze narrows. “That doesn’t answer his question.”
She laughs, an unhinged sound. “Give me the Princess and I’ll have the replica ready in an instant.”
