Wicked Deeds on a Winter’s Night (Immortals After Dark #4)(16)
Author: Kresley Cole

"There’s no need for this to escalate," Lachlain said, his tone calm. Bowe knew Lachlain would never reveal that he was concerned about the repercussions of Bowe’s actions, but in his position he must be. "Bowe can tell me where the witch is. I’ll free the six and bring Mariketa back."

Bowe exhaled. Lachlain was still trying to protect him, always cleaning up after him. If he had a dollar for every time Lachlain said, "Ach, Bowe, you’ve ed up this time."

But then Lachlain had never bailed him out of something like this.

"No, I’ve told you. This is my problem." Bowe unsteadily stood, growing dizzy just from that. "I’ll deal with it."

Lachlain shook his head. "How are you going to defend yourself against six verra irate immortals?"

"They should be grateful that I returned." When Lachlain raised his brows, he added, "I’ll make them vow to the Lore no’ to attack before I will agree to open the tomb."

"Then at least eat and rest until after the full moon."

Nïx clucked her tongue. "The House says Mari must call in before the next full moon to avert this. Besides, this town isn’t big enough to hold so many factions. They all might be allies of the witches or Valkyrie, but none are allies with each other. Any much longer with them bumping elbows, and something will happen."

Bowe swung a glare at Nïx. "Are you no’ overstating all this, Valkyrie – "

From outside: "You wanna over my witch? Like playing your games? Then play catch!" Something whistled overhead; the house shook – they all ducked as plaster splattered down from the ceiling.

"What the bloody hell was that?" Bowe yelled.

"That was Regin," Nïx answered serenely. "She threw a car over us to land on the main Lykae lodge. Lucky thing the lodge is empty. Bowen, she thought the vehicle was yours. But it’s really… his." She pointed delicately at Lachlain, who scowled before flashing a meaningful look at Emma.

Bowe grated, "She’s throwing bloody cars?"

"See? Not overstating." Nïx rose, smoothly slipped behind the curtains, then shouted out the window, "Bad form, Regin! Wrong car."

Immediately after, the house shook again. "Oh, much better!" Nïx assured them. "That was Bowen’s!"

Another violent shake of the manor. Nïx peeked out from the curtains, wearing them like a nun’s habit. "Who drives a seventy-eight, Chevelle-looking – "

"Nïx!" Emma said.

She withdrew from the window. "The timing of all this is impeccable," Nïx said in an abruptly grave tone. "The Accession has really arrived."

Emma and Lachlain shared a look. All Lorekind dreaded the Accession. Occurring every five centuries, it was a kind of mystical cull that killed off immortals. Though there wasn’t necessarily a great war or determining battle, fate seemed to seed conflicts, pitting factions against each other. Bowe’s father had told him fate would sow some families by bringing together mates – yet would reap from most others.

"Why all this?" Bowe took uneven steps toward his closet to dress, and had to clench his jaw against a wave of pain in his ribs. "Do you no’ think that a Lore war is a wee bit much for a witch having a three-week hiatus?"

"A hiatus… with whom?" Nïx asked. "My pet, you’ve trapped a beautiful, nubile young woman with a school of incubi. Though Regin swears it’s not a school of incubi, but a pod – "

"Nïx, stay focused!" Emma said, and Nïx gave her a halfhearted hiss.

"Incubi?" Bowe rasped, a finger of dread running up his spine. "The tomb was empty, long deserted." There weren’t living incubi in there. There couldn’t be.

Sadness flashed in Nïx’s confused eyes. "The witch fares ill after three weeks inside that lightless crypt." In a confessional tone, she added, "Seems you forgot to leave her any food or water."

"I scented nothing, sensed nothing… " At Nïx’s implacable expression, Bowe shook himself – he didn’t need to be thinking about the implications; he needed to be doing something about them.

"Lachlain, can you help me arrange transportation?" He dug for clothes, battling dizziness. "If I leave within the hour I can get there today before sunset."

"Aye, then." Lachlain exhaled. "Of course, I’ll help you with anything you need."

Though Bowe had made it sound like a routine task, freeing and squiring Mariketa back to the States would not be without numerous difficulties.

On his last trip, the "roads" had been difficult to navigate. Now that the rainy season had fully arrived, they might be impassable. Especially since Bowe would be forced to drive a stick shift with one hand and a stump. And now that he was weakened, it was possible the human soldiers teeming the area could subdue and actually contain a Lykae, even when he was fully turned. Bowe would have to evade them until he had the mortality spell removed.

Raising the tomb’s portcullis had been nearly impossible even when he’d had all his strength and both of his hands… but now? "I’m going to need to bring something like a pneumatic lift to help me get into the tomb."

When Lachlain nodded, Emma said, "I can get you a satellite phone, too, so Mari can call at the earliest opportunity."

"Aye, and I’ll need more of that stuff they’ve been trying to feed me. The drinks and gel packs. And some kind of med kit just in case."

Nïx clapped with excitement at the activity, looking as addled as ever. "I can help, I can help! I can get you a rhyme for Mariketa!"

Lachlain, Emma, and Bowe briefly paused to glare at her.

"You can’t leave home without it!"

"Anyway… " Bowe continued, "I just went two weeks without food or water. Three will no’ kill her."

"Incorrect."

Bowe glanced back at Nïx. His voice broke an octave lower when he asked, "Why incorrect?"

She squinted at him and momentarily appeared puzzled at where she was. "What’s incorrect? Am I incorrect?" She buffed her nails. "I so rarely am."

Barely stifling the urge to throttle the weird being, Bowe grated, "You told me I was incorrect when I said three weeks will no’ kill the witch."

"Oh, yes, that. How am I supposed to remember conversations from last year? I can’t see inside that crypt – bad voodoo and major mojo keeps prying eyes out – but common sense says Mariketa is likely dying."

"Dying? How?" he rasped, knowing Lachlain was studying his harsh reaction.