Quicksilver (The Fae & Alchemy Series Book 1)

Ren and Fisher both swore at the sight of her. Everlayne’s mouth was open, silent panic carved into her beautiful face. From this vantage point, where Yvelia and Sanasroth were closest, the river the narrowest, it was easy to make out her delicate features. Easy to see that she was terrified. A black hole yawned open behind Fisher. He was a split second away from launching through it, but Ren caught hold of him by the strap of his armor. “Don’t be stupid! The gate won’t open on that side of the river. Gods only knows where it’ll spit you out!”

“All right, fine.” Fisher batted his hand away. “I’ll swim across.”

Ren grabbed him with both hands this time, shaking him. “That’s what they want. The second you’re on the other side of this river you’re fucked. You’ll have no magic, and then what?”

“Then I’ll rip out their fucking throats and make a pile of their rotting corpses,” Fisher snarled.

“She’ll be dead before you’ve mown through ten of them. Can you live with that?”

“Of course not!”

“Then think. Why the hell do they have Layne over there? Why isn’t she already fucking dead?”

A good question. My stomach rolled as one of the vampires standing next to Everlayne ran a mangled tongue along her bare shoulder, keening as it drooled over her skin. It wanted to bite. Badly. But it held back. That many of them could have torn her apart in a flat second, but something was keeping them at bay. Another vampire flattened its nose against Everlayne’s arm, shuddering as it fought against its nature to feed.

Ren cried out, the sound strangled, and it looked like he would ignore his own words and charge blindly into the river. It was Layne’s outstretched palm that stopped him.

“Don’t! Just stay where you are!” she called.

“Are you hurt?” Fisher shouted.

His half-sister smiled sadly. “Only a little. I’ll be fine, Fisher. Don’t worry.” She looked so strange. Her pale skin was lit from within, giving off an ethereal glow. Her hair swirled around her as if she were underwater, and yet she wasn’t wet. Her hair, her skin, her clothes—all dry. The rain came down harder than ever, but not a drop of it touched Everlayne. “

“Run for the river!” Ren shouted. “Swim! As soon as you’re halfway, we can get you!”

She responded with a regretful shake of her head. “I’d never make it, Renfis. And anyway…I can’t.”

“What do you mean, you can’t?” The question was full of panic.

Sweet Everlayne. She’d been so nice to me back at the Winter Palace. I’d been too overwhelmed by my new surroundings to truly appreciate it, but she’d been a friend to me. Had looked out for me. And now she was in mortal peril, and there was nothing I could do to help her. Nothing any of us could do.

Fisher’s jaw worked, a look of devastation on his face. He knew why she couldn’t come. “Her neck,” he whispered. “Look at her neck.”

At the base of Layne’s slender throat shone a thin band of gold. It was a fine thing. Pretty. It looked like it was engraved with some kind of pattern, though I couldn’t make out the details of the design from here. Attached to the band of metal was a thin gold chain. As I noticed it hanging down in front of her, it snapped taut, and Everlayne jerked to her left, almost losing her balance.

Fisher hissed as the crowd of vampires parted, and a tall, handsome male with luminous skin and cropped blond hair came forward to stand beside her. Dressed in black pants and a tailored white shirt, he wasn’t kitted out for war; his attire suggested that this little jaunt out into the rain had interrupted some kind of dinner party. Younger than Malcolm, he was a fraction taller, a fraction broader, and every bit as dangerous. I could feel his power—a sinking, penetrating cold, spilling across the river, leeching into my bones.

“Well met, Fisher!” the vampire called over the river. “I see you’ve managed to restore one of your precious swords. Congratulations. I’m sure that feels like quite a feather in the cap.”

As if Lorreth took the sarcasm in his voice personally, a flicker of angel’s breath crackled through the air. Brighter than the lightning scoring the clouds, it burned my eyes as it crashed into an invisible barrier in the middle of the river and was instantly diverted, shooting harmlessly up into the air.

The vampire didn’t even blink. From the way he smiled, he found the display highly entertaining. “Why don’t you come over here and say hello to an old friend, Fisher. Your sister and I have a bottle of that red you like breathing back in the dining room. Why not join us for a glass?”

“Fuck you, Taladaius,” Fisher spat. “If you’ve hurt her—”

“Oh, please. You know me. I don’t have the stomach for hurting the things you care about. My father, on the other hand…” He trailed off, looking thoughtfully at the chain in his hand. “He does enjoy adding to his collection. And since he recently lost his most vaunted prize, it only makes sense that he’d want to replace it. Come on, you must have expected something like this from him.”

Hatred boiled in Fisher’s eyes. But there was pain there, too. He spoke quietly this time, addressing Everlayne. I could hear him, but only just. “Malcolm bit you?” he asked, keeping his voice level.

I saw Everlayne’s mouth move, but I wasn’t blessed with Fisher’s gifts. I couldn’t cast my voice, and my human hearing was nowhere near as sharp as his, either. She spoke four or five words, and the tiny flicker of hope went out in Fisher’s eyes. Ren saw his reaction and dropped down onto the snowbank, landing heavily on his knees, his legs refusing to support him anymore.

“So he’s bitten her. She’s not dead!” I stepped closer to Fisher, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Surely she’ll be okay? If there’s venom in her veins, Te Léna can heal her like she healed me.”

Ren shook his head. He stared at Layne, and she stared right back at him. Her shoulders shook, her chest hitching up and down unevenly. I considered it a small blessing that I couldn’t hear her crying over the roar of the rain hitting the river. “She can’t come home now,” Ren whispered in a broken voice. “She’s his.”

I glanced between the males, my heart skipping beats left, right and center. “What do you mean, she’s his?”

“It means she’s enthralled to him,” Fisher said.

My eyes pricked fiercely. “Enthrall? What…what does that even mean?”

“Later, Little Osha. I’ll explain it all later.” Fisher could barely get the words out around his grief.

Ren forced himself back to his feet. Shouting across the river, his hands shook at his sides. “What do you want, Taladaius? Why did you bring her here?”

The blond vampire sneered at Ren. “Careful, Renfis. I am Lord of Midnight to you. I won’t be addressed so familiarly by one so low—”

“He’s a million times the male you’ll ever fucking be,” Fisher hissed. “Now answer the fucking question and tell us why she’s here!”

“Why do you think?” Taladaius answered tersely. “He bid me bring her. She’s a trap. He wants to bend you to his will, so he’s taken something precious to you, and he’s broken it. Are you shocked?” He didn’t wait for Fisher’s reply. “You will either come and try to save her, even though doing so would be futile, or else you’ll come for vengeance’s sake. Either way, he knows you’ll come. He doesn’t care why. Only that you do.”

Vengeance? I didn’t like the sound of this. How the fuck had Everlayne wound up in Malcolm’s hands, anyway? I had so many more questions, but now wasn’t the time to ask them. I waited to see how Fisher would respond to this, but his chin dipped down, the quicksilver in his eyes spinning so fast that it formed a solid shining ring around his iris, and he said nothing. It seemed as though he was waiting. A moment later, I figured out why. Breathless, Lorreth skidded down the slope, joining us. Just like the rest of us, he was covered in ichor and dirt. His expression bore a fury that promised to end worlds. When he saw Taladaius standing on the other side of the river, holding Everlayne’s chain like she was some kind of animal, and his face darkened. “Motherfucker!”

“Evening, Lorreth.” Taladaius grinned menacingly at the warrior.

“Fuck. Is that…” His face paled. “Is that Everlayne?”

Fisher was frozen still, staring across the river at his sister. It was Ren who answered. “Yes. It’s her. Malcolm’s already tagged her.”

“Bu…” He glanced around wildly. “But that’s…that…”

“Where is he?” Fisher growled at last. His words were quiet, cast at Taladaius. The vampire chose to shout back his answer with a laugh, so all could hear.

“He’s waiting for you, my friend!”

“Where?”

“At the place where the two of you brokered your last deal. Honestly, I think he’s hoping for a repeat performance.”

“There won’t be any more deals,” Fisher snarled.

“I suppose we’ll see about that, won’t we.” Taladaius considered his fingernails. “Your darling Everlayne was bitten twelve hours ago. You can do the math. As we speak, my father rides north with the better part of his horde. If you aren’t there to meet him when he arrives at his destination, he’ll see that she makes it through the change and then spends the rest of eternity on her back, being fucked raw by Ammontraíeth’s most depraved residents, one…after another…after another. Or you give him what he wants. It’s that simple.”

“And what the hell does he want?” Lorreth demanded.

Fisher flinched, as if he wished the warrior hadn’t even asked. “He wants me,” he whispered.

Taladaius’s bark of amusement was as harsh as cracking ice. “Yes, it’s true you’re on his wish list. Always, my friend. But he doesn’t just want you this time. You might have been a valuable player in this game before, but a lot’s changed of late. There are far more interesting pieces on the board.”

“He doesn’t get anyone else.”

“You, of all people, know that Malcolm gets what Malcolm wants,” Taladaius chided. “He’ll have his prize, and you know it.”

“WELL, HE CAN’T HAVE HER!” Fisher’s declaration boomed over the Darn; it could probably be heard in the bowels of Ammontraíeth. The terror that rolled off him hit me like a slap to the face. I felt it deep in my bones. And…I felt something else, too. Taladaius. His attention shifted to me, though his dark eyes, brimming over with merriment, remained locked on Fisher.

“You can kick and scream all you like,” he said. “But he wants the Alchemist, Fisher. If he has to burn down all of Yvelia to claim her, you know perfectly well that he’ll do it.”