“Its effects are akin to being trapped in a room made entirely of iron. I told you. It’s not just an ordinary iron blade. It’s more powerful than that. Now, travel back to the restroom. From there to the stadium.”
He vanished before she could answer.
Sighing at his bossy abruptness, Rose prepared to travel. There was a niggle of exhaustion working its way through her, and she didn’t think it had to do with the iron. This felt more natural. As if traveling from place to place was draining her. With the vault so far underground, she couldn’t just travel to the stadium from here. She needed to make the restroom pit stop as a precaution since she was still new at this.
Gathering her energy, Rose traveled into the hotel restroom stall and immediately felt her knees give away. Weakness flooded her.
What the hell?
A potent tingle filled the air.
Magic.
The stall door blew off and into the room.
Shocked, Rose lifted her weary head. Her limbs felt like lead.
What was going on?
Two witches and a warlock stepped into her line of sight.
How?
The taller of the two women, an attractive brunette, spoke. “You didn’t think a little spell like Schneider’s would keep us out, did you?” She was American. “We’ve been hanging out here all morning, waiting on you and Mór to show. Finally, you did but what do you know, we follow you in here and you’d vanished.”
Rose cursed herself for using the stall.
She was trapped by its three walls and these three strangers and—she glanced down at the gap between the stall walls and the floor. No light came in under it because a band of iron filled the gap. In fact, the whole stall felt strangely dark. Straining to look up, Rose cursed under her breath. The stall had a ceiling now. A ceiling of iron.
“It envelops the entire stall. Like an iron cage,” the woman informed her.
Fuck.
“Who are you?”
“Layton Blackwood.” The warlock stepped forward and gave her an old-fashioned, gentlemanly bow. “At your service. These are my sisters, Liza and Lori.”
He didn’t look anything like his sisters, who were both brunettes with golden skin. Layton had shocking white-blond hair and pale skin. Rose licked her lips, thinking, thinking. Dammit, think!
Nausea made itself known and she groaned, desperately wishing she could flee the iron. The room began to spin.
“We’re here to bring you into the safe arms of the Blackwood Coven, Rose.”
No, no.
Kill her more like.
Her stomach roiled.
“Yeah,” she whispered, “I feel real safe right now.”
“We apologize for the iron, but we couldn’t have you popping out of here without letting us explain.” The warlock lowered to his haunches before her, his gaze crawling over her skin. “What is it about fae? I could look at you for hours and never tire of it, and I know Lori feels the same about Mór.” Layton glanced over his shoulder. “What about you, Liza? Like what you see in Rose here?”
Liza was the shorter sister. She scowled at Layton. “We’re not here to sexually harass her. Let’s get on with things.”
“It isn’t sexual harassment. I just appreciate the finer things in life.” He smiled at Rose.
Infuriated by his ogling, Rose bared her teeth at him. “If you’re done objectifying me …” Her words trailed off as the room spun horrifically.
“In a fight, you’ll most likely be outnumbered and thus disoriented. You need to learn to focus through that.” Fionn’s voice filled her head, as did his lessons at the basilica.
Was that only last night?
Focus, Rose.
Layton Blackwood continued to speak but Rose didn’t hear a word.
Instead, she strained against the strength of the iron, feeling her muscles burn as if she were pushing a mammoth weight off her body.
“Layton …” She heard one of the sisters cut off her brother’s droning voice.
Exultation pierced Rose’s pain as she felt that weight shift. Every muscle in her body strained to its limit. Almost there. Almost there.
Then with one mighty shove, she screamed as if her whole body was being torn apart, abandoned the thought of agony and thought only of the stadium.
The world blurred and she collapsed on a sidewalk that was slightly warm beneath her palms from the November sun.
Panting, heaving, spitting up bile, she heard a surprised gasp behind her.
The weakness drained quickly from her body, but Rose was soaked with sweat as she pushed to her feet. She wiped at her mouth and searched her surroundings. There was no game on at the stadium, the grounds were quiet, but this female security guard had seen Rose appear out of nowhere.
If she questioned that appearance, she seemed to have buried it under her concern for the state Rose was in.
Rose waved off her concern, frantically looking for Fionn.
Where the hell was he?
He waited five minutes for Rose to join him at the stadium.
Five minutes too long.
Something was wrong.
He could feel it in the racing of his panicked heart.
However, when Fionn had attempted to travel directly back to the ladies’ restroom, he found himself in the corridor outside it instead.
A sheet of iron was placed over the entrance.
Fury roared through Fionn as he glanced left and right. There was no one else around, no approaching danger. Yet he could hear the murmurings of conversation within the restroom.
Focusing, he attempted to travel into the room, but his magic rebelled against the iron shield.
Sweat glistened on his temples as he gathered his strength and tried once more.
Nothing.
“Fuck,” he bit out, clasping tightly to the silver box.
No guards or hotel staff had made an appearance, so whoever was in the restroom with Rose was powerful enough to get through Schneider’s spells undetected.
The Blackwood Coven.
The Garm was mostly made up of vampires and werewolves.
It had to be the Blackwoods.
If it’s the Blackwoods, she’s safe, he reminded himself. Rose might believe the Blackwoods wanted to kill her, but Fionn knew the truth. The Blackwoods needed Rose alive to complete the spell that opened the gate to Faerie. That was the true spell Aine cast.
A fae-borne could open the gate and bring his or her companions into the world of Faerie to live there forever. All it would take was a drop of his or her blood.
But not with Fionn.
When he found the silver box with his dagger buried at the bottom of his faerie pool, Fionn discovered a piece of parchment inside. It held a note, from Aine, written in the dialect of Samhradh.
She warned that if he tried to use a fae child to return to Faerie with ill intentions, he’d have to kill that child, iron through the heart, to open the gate. She was always trying to best him, even from her perch on a throne on another fucking world.
Aine thought she knew him, thought he wouldn’t sacrifice an innocent to take his revenge.
She underestimated the depth of his passion for vengeance.
His vengeance.
Fionn growled at the iron-shielded door. The Blackwoods wouldn’t kill Rose but they’d bloody well tell her the truth. Focus, he demanded of himself. The rest of the room was not clad in iron. He could get past the door if he just bloody focused.
A scream tore through the walls of the restroom and shredded Fionn’s soul.
Rose!
Terror and fury flooded him, all barricades insignificant in the face of reaching her in time. Just like that, Fionn stood inside the restroom ready to tear its occupants to pieces.
Layton, Lori, and Liza Blackwood whirled to face him, their expressions slack with bafflement. Fionn saw a stall covered in iron sheets to create a makeshift cage.
They’d trapped Rose like an animal.