Feversong (Fever #9)(72)
The other two items, the binoculars and the bracelet, were indisputably objects of power, but I had no idea what they were or what purpose they served.
I had a feeling Cruce might, though.
Ryodan was the first to arrive, parking his badass matte black military Hummer out front.
A few minutes later Jada roared up on an equally badass motorcycle, parked next to it and stalked, long-legged and aggressive, into the room, wearing black leather from head to toe, her long curly red hair flattened into submission and pulled up high in a flawless ponytail.
It was instantly evident that there was serious tension between those two, and I sighed. I expected tension between Cruce and Christian, between Cruce and everyone. But, sans Cruce, we were the home team. We were supposed to get along.
Earlier, Jada had seemed more like Dani. Now she was looking and acting a lot like Jada again. Although it made me sad, I wasn’t completely surprised. An iceberg didn’t thaw all at once, and I suspected if one did—and were sentient—it would apprehend the rapid liquefaction of itself with horror. Jada was an iceberg. She was melty around the edges. No doubt she was going to vacillate a bit before she let too much of her frosty aloofness thaw further. Melty was good. I could work with it. Although I fully intended to find out later what Ryodan had done to freeze her up again and read him the riot act for it.
As Jada dropped down in a chair (no surprise there, a sofa would have been a lot like a country, shared with others, and chairs were islands) I arched a brow and said, “Really—a motorcycle? When you can freeze-frame?”
“It’s a Ducati,” she corrected stiffly. “Ten-nine-eight S. Capable of achieving speeds of up to—”
“Two hundred and seventy-one miles per hour,” I finished for her with a smile. I love cars. Fast motorcycles, too. I’d once lusted after the Dodge Tomahawk, although it was never really taken seriously as a bike.
She didn’t smile back. “It’s illogical to walk, slipstream or not, when I can ride, thereby ration protein bars. Don’t know why I didn’t do it before.”
Uh-oh. The words “illogical” and “thereby” were back, a sure sign Dani was distancing herself from emotion. But why? And I knew why she’d never ridden a bike before. She loved her city and far preferred navigating it on her own two feet, not riding above it on a machine. The Dani I knew liked to feel things.
Ryodan took a seat on one of the couches, in a corner, facing the front door. Yep. That was Ryodan. Watching the entrance, easy attack or escape.
I poured myself a cup of coffee and sank down on the couch facing the fireplace in the middle, next to Barrons, who was in the corner on my right, also facing the door.
Christian arrived next, took one look at me and exploded, “Bloody hell, what happened to you, Mac?”
“No one told you?” I said, surprised. Hastily, I added, “Sorry about the cocoon stuff. It wasn’t me.”
“I know it wasn’t you, but lass, I am never again fishing around in your eye for a wood splinter. You’ll go blind before I help you.”
My brows climbed my forehead but I didn’t ask. I was too busy being grateful the Book hadn’t had the spear when it found him.
He continued, “Been busy all day out at the abbey. Just got the message to meet an hour ago. Couldn’t sift in. Barrons has the place warded like a Fae Fort Knox.”
Although I couldn’t see his wings (unless I exerted effort to try, he was using one hell of a glamour) I could tell by the way he was moving his shoulders that his majestic wings were shifting angrily. He opted to stand near the fireplace and I knew why. “You still haven’t figured out how to cast a glamour that temporarily displaces your wings, allowing you to sit comfortably, have you?”
He scowled at me. “Bloody Cruce won’t tell me a bloody thing. No one else to ask. But you, lass—what read am I getting off you? And what’s with the hair?”
“She’s turning into the Seelie Queen,” Jada said.
Christian just stared at me a long moment, dark brows drawing together, then his shoulders began to shake and he threw back his head and laughed. “Well, hell,” he said when he’d finally stopped laughing, “welcome to the club. Maybe we can figure out this wing thing together.”
I said with no small regret, “I don’t think I get wings. I never saw them on the queen. Anybody know if she had wings?”
Everyone shrugged or shook their heads.
“Isn’t Cruce supposed to be here?” Christian said.
Jada kicked back in her chair, propped her boots on the coffee table and said coolly, “Cruce.”
The Unseelie prince appeared a few feet away from her, looking thunderous. And still more than a little pained by the loss of his wings. He was once again wearing the glamour of V’lane, still moving stiffly. He whirled, on instant guard, then stopped moving and murmured, “I’ve never been inside the bookstore before.” His gaze went everywhere at once.
“I assure you, you’ll find nothing of interest, or I’d not have permitted you here,” Barrons said dryly. “I relocated anything you might have liked seeing before you came.”
“Why have you summoned me?” Cruce demanded.
“How have you summoned him?” I said blankly.
Jada tapped her cuff. “Now that it’s closed, he’s as bound to it as the wearer is to him. Near as I could figure, it closed when the Book opened the doors to his prison beneath the abbey.”