Rogue’s Possession Page 2

  My skills had been hard-won, paid for with pain and the kind of loss of self that comes only from torture and sophisticated brainwashing. I was frankly lucky to still be sane. If I truly was.

  Carefully I shaped the idea of what I wanted. Precision was crucial if you didn’t want unpleasant side-results. Like with organic chemistry, a slight error turned sugar to poison. To keep it simple, I focused on sinking four of the ships, holding the images of those particular ones clearly in mind. They would come apart with slow grace, the planks becoming sieves. Gently, they would lower into the water, allowing the people on board time to swim away. I added mermaids, beautiful and solicitous, carrying the sailors and soldiers to the beach.

  A lot could go wrong, but it was a key discipline to keep any of those thoughts from contaminating my idea. Only what I wanted. Exactly what I wanted.

  Once I had it, perfect, shining and precise, I pulled on the energy. It seethed inside me like my own personal churning sea. In this way, Rogue had done me a favor, staying away these past few days. My desire for him raged hotter than ever before. Our torrid night together, dream world or not, had barely touched the roaring need he stoked in me. All I had to do was open the door to it and it poured through, setting fire to my idea and making it reality.

  The world shimmered, shifted as the new reality settled in, and the four ships I’d selected began sinking into the waves, like ladies in fancy ball gowns dropping into a gracious curtsy and continuing forever.

  The size of beetles from my perspective, men poured overboard, jumping into the water where mermaids popped up, drawing the swimmers to shore.

  Sometimes I impressed even myself.

  “Lady Sorceress!” My page, Larch, was shouting, his blue fists knotted in my cloak as high as he could reach to get my attention. He pointed to the dragons. Which were headed directly toward us.

  They glittered in the sky, enormous lizards with leathery wings, the moisture in the air steaming off in streamers as they dove.

  With a rumble like a 747 on takeoff, the lead dragon dropped, man-high talons outstretched. I flattened myself, and the claws whistled through the air over my head.

  “We have to get down!” Larch shrieked over the dragon-thunder and the pounding surf. He practically dragged me over the side of the point, letting me go at my own pace only once he was sure I was following him through the slick, sharp-edged boulders.

  Another dragon dive-bombed me, the wind of its passage rocking my tenuous grip on the rocks. Larch crawled under the shelter of one, but I kept going, working my way forward to where I could see the enemy ships again. Larch shouted incoherently after me, which I ignored. I’d rather get munched by a dragon than violate my oath. I still had half a ship to sink.

  To get around the point of the promontory, I had to clamber up a bit. Going down wasn’t an option. The surf boiled just below, the cold brine soaking my boots. It would have saturated the cloak if not for Rogue’s spell.

  A rumble of approaching dragon warned me and I dropped to the side. It barely missed me, the enormous talon snagging a rock just above and shattering it, the shards raining down on me. I really wished they’d go away—one wish that would do me absolutely no good whatsoever.

  The hood of my cloak had fallen back, and my hair plastered to my head in the chill rain and surf splatter. As fast as I could before the next pass, I crawled up and over the point, spotting the five remaining enemy ships. I would just have to try for it.

  The dragon caught me by surprise. No approaching thunder. It must have glided in somehow, because the tip of its talon caught my hood, lifting me into the air. I shrieked, a sound immediately cut off by the loss of air as the cloak strangled me. Before I could think to reach for the ties at my neck, a black object torpedoed through the air, knocking me off the point of the dragon’s claw and dropping me into the cold waves.

  The impact stunned me, knocking the breath from my body. Cold seemed to freeze my lungs, stopping me from drawing air immediately. Not sure which way was up, I thrashed in the water, tangling in the cloak and my own skirts. Pushing through the surface felt like a miracle, until I drew that longed-for breath and took in as much sea water as air.

  I spluttered and coughed as a wave swamped me, carrying me toward the point. The cloak didn’t drag me down, but it wasn’t buoyant either. Remembering the riptide rules, I swam crosswise to the current that insisted on crashing toward the rocks. The water wasn’t cold enough to induce hypothermia right away, but neither did it help. I let the next swell lift me a distance, then struck out again once it passed.

  The rocks, however, were too close. The wave crashed on them with a boom. Another few minutes and that could be my body breaking. I frantically sorted through magical solutions. A flotation device wouldn’t save me from the rocks. I couldn’t just wish myself out of here without a specific plan or a dragon would get me. I did wish away the boots, which helped considerably. Maybe flippers?

  Before I could form a clear image, a bigger wave caught me, throwing me sideways and into the sucking current around a looming boulder. Gasping as momentum scraped me against the sharp edges with bruising force, I choked on water that tasted oddly sweet and tried to hang on to the rock. But the force of the receding water sucked me back into the sea’s mercurial grasp, pulling me under. I thrashed to the surface, tangled in the cloak.

  This was not going well.

  A black head popped up next to me, sleek as a seal but with a slavering mouth full of white teeth. The Black Dog seemed to grin at me, full of puppyish joy. It was he who’d knocked me out of the dragon’s grip. He yipped at me and I reached for him, but lost the moment to another swell that pushed me down. Teeth fastened on my shoulder, yanking me from the water. I gritted my teeth against the pain and turned, wrapped my arms around the Dog and climbed on his back, anchoring my grip around his chest.

  I’m not a big person, but the Dog is nearly as large—enough to lift me partially out of the water, all surging muscle beneath me as he swam for the sandy shore. In exhausted relief, I leaned my cheek against his wet fur, the heat of him burning through and warming me.

  Most everyone was terrified of the Black Dog, but not me. For I knew his secret now.

  He pulled me all the way through the tumbling surf, and I let go when we reached the sand, rolling off him onto my back. With enthusiastic affection, he licked my face, meaty breath washing over me.

  Darling sent an urgent thought, an image of Falcon snarling in rage.

  I sat up. “Jeez, I’ve been a little distracted, okay?”

  A dragon wheeled overhead but kept its distance. The Black Dog fell outside a lot of the usual rules of magic—in ways I hadn’t yet quantified—but it seemed the dragons were wary of him. I struggled to my feet, wishing my dress dry. An easy wish and that was so much better. The ships were farther out to sea now, sailing away, perhaps.

  Down the beach, the soldiers and sailors who’d made it to shore seemed to have noticed my presence and were pointing in my direction, near as I could tell. They likely recognized me from previous battles. The tone of their shouting didn’t sound like gratitude for the trouble I’d gone to in saving their miserable skins from drowning. Probably they were peeved about me sinking their ships in the first place. Some people.

  And, of course, I’d foolishly left my weapon tied to my horse’s saddle back on the promontory. My self-defense instructor would give me a tongue-lashing for that—and not the pleasurable kind.

  At least I could do that. I wished for my dagger to be in my hand and it appeared. Not that it would do much good against the mob making its way up the long curve of the beach, but it gave me a bit of comfort. They had a good mile to go.

  I concentrated on the ships, nearly out of sight, obscured by the blustering rain. Now to sink half of one. I’d have to find a way to seal up the opening, like a magician’s trick when they cut the lady in half, to keep it afloat. Dammit—I didn’t know enough about sailing ships, but surely that wouldn’t be aerodyna
mic, or whatever the nautical version of that concept would be. The only real solution would be to keep it magically buoyant.

  “A pretty trick, even for me,” a voice behind me drawled. “Are you sure you can do it?”

  Chapter Two

  In Which I Encounter the Anti-Aphrodite

  Faerie operates on a sliding scale of moral ambiguity. The Golden Rule is turned inside out to become “When others do unto you, weigh the cost to yourself and charge accordingly.”

  ~Big Book of Fairyland, “Rules of Bargaining”

  My heart—the traitor—leaped and my blood heated. Deciding not to give Rogue the satisfaction of knowing he’d startled me, I refused to turn and look at him. I shouldn’t have been surprised. The Black Dog came from him. Or was him. Or was a manifestation of his subconscious nature somehow. The physics of it escaped me, but where there was one, the other followed. And, like Clark Kent and Superman, they were never in the same place at the same time.

  “Howdy, stranger.”

  “Always a pleasure to see you, lovely Gwynn,” he returned. “Though you look a bit worse for wear.”

  “Thanks for pulling me out of the water.”

  “Is that what happened? I wondered.” He spoke from right behind me, the scent of Stargazer lilies and sandalwood weaving through the rain.

  I gave in and looked at him. Though I’d braced myself for it, his sensual impact took my breath away. His long black hair flowed loose, hanging in wet strands over his shoulders. Blue eyes like the sky just after sunset met mine, showing lingering anger tempered with amusement. And desire. My body reacted to it and he knew it, dark lips curving up on one side—the left side of his face, which was covered by a network of inky lines and thorny spikes that seemed to reach out from around his skull, fingers and vines splaying across his skin. At first I’d wondered if it was a tattoo, but now I knew they grew out of the same place the Black Dog did. The pattern continued back into his hairline and down past the black shirt he wore.

  I happened to know they kept going from there.

  Not an image I needed in my head right now. I channeled the flaring heat into banked energy. Should be plenty to keep half a boat afloat.

  “I’ll be interested to see if you can pull this off.” Rogue gazed out at the disappearing ships. “You always seem to have inventive approaches, if amateurish ones.”

  “Don’t bug me. You don’t even know what I’m trying to do.”

  “Sink half a ship. Careless of you not to mind that aspect of the bargain.”

  “Eavesdropping, were you?”

  “I don’t have to,” he retorted. “You still think far too loud. Anyone with a nugget of ability can hear your internal monologue.”

  “Sorry I disturbed you.”

  “Oh, you disturb me all right, passionate Gwynn. What will you give me to help you out?” He traced an unnaturally long finger down my cheek, the sensation sending currents of heat through my blood. “I have some suggestions.”

  “I’ll bet you do.” I sounded breathy. This was not good. “But the bargain is that I’d do it. So quit bothering me and let me figure this out.”

  He gestured grandly at the churning ocean, then folded his arms and watched me expectantly.

  “Can’t you go somewhere else?”

  “I’m protecting you.” He nodded his head at the mob of men who’d gotten significantly closer. “Yon angry humans seem to be headed this way.”

  “Yes. I know. Let me do this and I’m out of here.” I tried to concentrate, straining my eyes to pick out one ship. Rogue’s gaze felt like a caress on my skin. My cheek tingled where he’d touched me.

  “Do I make you nervous?”

  Yes. “No. Be quiet.”

  With a precise wish, I redistributed the people on board to an equal number on each side, trusting in the magic to handle the math. I called up the mermaids and cut the boat in half, letting one side sink. This was no gentle drop, but that couldn’t be helped. Envisioning the half I wanted to keep afloat with the breach sealed over, I wished it buoyant. Then frowned out to sea. I really wanted to see if it worked.

  “Change the material of the ship to something else.” Rogue was looking out to the horizon. “It’s the wrong shape to stay afloat long like that. It will just drain you. Then send it to shore.”

  “Can you see it?”

  He glanced at me, fulminous blue eyes definitely amused under arched black brows. “There are many ways of seeing. Too bad you don’t know them.”

  “Nice,” I muttered. In my heart, though, I could admit that part of me enjoyed sparring with him. As much as he taunted me, he always seemed to consider me a worthy opponent.

  Not sure why the image sprang to mind, I kept the sealed-up ship shape, but changed it into fiberglass. Strong enough to hold the people, light enough to float well. Hopefully I hadn’t just thrown the whole ecosystem all to hell by introducing that. I wished up a current, to drag the ship to shore. Then let it all go.

  Rogue waited, one eyebrow cocked. Nothing happened for a few minutes, then Darling sent me a purring compliment and showed me the nobles going home. Another victory. Yay me.

  “Well done.” Rogue smiled at me, gaze warm, and slid a hand around the back of my neck in a sensual caress. “Let’s continue our discus—”

  He broke off when the air seemed to shimmer and gel. A sound like a gong rang through the sand, and the waves quieted, peeling back from each other. Like a perverse Aphrodite rising on sea foam, Titania appeared in the breach.

  Lovely, yes, like all of Faerie. Her naked body featureless as a Barbie doll’s, colorless gleaming hair flowing around her, untouched by the surf or rain. Her pale eyes, long-lashed but unnervingly like a white rabbit’s, fixed on us.

  “Oh no.” I choked on the words. It hadn’t worked. I’d broken my vow and now here she was, my personal nightmare, come to take her pound of flesh from me. Which could be literal. Or worse.

  Rogue edged in front of me, a protective gesture that moved me beyond measure. “This isn’t about you.” He pitched his voice so only I could hear him. “It’s about me. She may not notice you.”

  Not likely, but for once I kept my mouth shut and stayed behind Rogue’s tall form. I didn’t know if he was a match for Titania, but I sure as hell wasn’t.

  “Lord Rogue, my handsome love,” she cooed in a tinkling child’s voice. “I’ve been looking for you. You left me so precipitously.”

  “How can I serve you, Titania?”

  I’d never heard Rogue sound obsequious. It chilled me to the bone.

  “Who’s your little friend?” She peeked suddenly around Rogue’s arm, quick as a striking snake. My heart skipped several beats and she blew me a little pink kiss. “Just being silly. I remember you, Sorceress—Rogue’s new plaything. Are you enjoying it? He’s a magnificent lover, isn’t he?”

  My thoughts fluttered, moths hitting a hot bulb and frying instantly. “Your Highness...” I curtseyed a little, hoping that might appease her. Rogue could say her name out loud, but I couldn’t. With the fae hive mind, they could all refer obliquely to their insanely cruel goddess-queen, which I heard in my head as “Titania”—my internal association for queen of the faeries, thanks to AP English—but when I said it, they heard it as her actual name. Which could invoke her attention. Nasty attention. Like now.

  Titania reached out to touch me, her extra-jointed fingers a nest of spider’s legs. My grip tightened on the dagger still in my hand and I longed to slash at her. Rogue shifted slightly, enough to nudge her hand away, and her gaze flashed up to him, the air heating dangerously.

  “That’s not in the rules,” he murmured to her, like the lover she claimed he was.

  She pouted, smiling up at him coyly. “But I’m so bored,” she complained, sounding like a petulant adolescent. “This is taking too long. Let’s sweeten the pot.”

  “I decline,” Rogue replied.

  “What do you think, Sorceress?” Titania craned her neck around Rogue’s arm aga
in. “Can I entice you into a little wager?”

  “Don’t say a word, Gwynn. Don’t think any, either.”

  Usually I balked at Rogue’s high-handed orders, but I took his advice. I had absolutely no idea what Titania was needling Rogue about, but I knew better than to draw more attention to myself. I’d winkle it out of him later. If we survived this encounter. I clamped a stronger shield over my mind, quieting my thoughts as much as I knew how.

  Titania’s hopeful expression turned nasty. “Fine,” she snarled, all sweetness gone from her voice. “But I grow weary of this game. I shall find a way to make things more interesting for us all, Lord Rogue, if you don’t pick up the pace. Tick-tock, tick-tock. If you don’t see to this business yourself, I’ll take matters into my own hands.”

  She walked back down the sand, her feet leaving no mark. Her presence had emptied the beach of the mob of soldiers. No dragons in sight. No one went near the Queen Bitch if they could help it.

  “Oh!” Titania glanced back at me, flipping her ankle-length hair over one shoulder like a diabolical Marcia Brady. “I nearly forgot. I have something that belongs to you, Sorceress. What’s left of it, that is.” With a tinkling giggle, she waved a segmented hand and a crumpled heap appeared on the beach. She nudged it with a toe.

  “Tick-tock!”

  And she vanished.

  I approached the pile on the sand, the awkward twist of pale limbs and shredded flesh. Even destroyed like this, without her wings, she was recognizable. Dragonfly, my erstwhile foolish maidservant. The waves teased at her, dragging the pieces of her broken girlish body into the surf. I swallowed, trying to master the surge of nausea, tossing aside my dagger and reaching out a hand to maybe grab her by the foot to keep her from washing out to sea.

  Long fingers wrapped around my wrist. “Let her go,” Rogue said, uncharacteristically gentle. “She’s well past saving.”