Hidden Passions (Hidden, #7)(25)

Lord. Rick was turning into their mother.

"I wouldn't be rude to them," Rick swore.

Okay. Maybe Rick's attempt at being open-minded was sort of sweet. Tony tried to answer less snippily. "Just give me a chance to get my sea legs."

The radio between their seats crackled, causing Tony to snap upright. Please God, let whatever call was coming in put an end to this heart to heart.

"RTA requests assistance," said an unfamiliar dispatcher's voice, referring to the Resurrection Transit Authority. "10-34 M at the Elm and Fifth north station. Witness describes two perps going at it with long swords."

The subway stop the dispatcher named wasn't far from their location. As detectives, Tony and Rick weren't obliged to take the call. Breaking up fights was a job for uniforms. On the other hand, 10-34 M was code for an altercation involving magic. Plus, the long sword thing could be cool.

"Not unheard of," Rick said in response to his raised eyebrows. "But intriguing."

The advantage of being brothers was that they often thought alike. Certain they were on the same page, Tony grabbed the radio. "Car 65 responding. We're two minutes out, no more."

"10-4," the central dispatcher said. "Be advised suspects are fae."

Now that really was intriguing. Fae had created the half-magic Pocket that enabled Resurrection to straddle realities. More often than not, they remained aloof from its citizens. Most fae stilled lived in Faerie, only visiting the Pocket when they felt like slumming. If they had beefs with each other, they didn't settle them in front of inferiors. They certainly didn't have knockdown drag-outs at subway stops.

Tony saw Rick grin right before he floored the accelerator. The Buick shimmied and then took off, forcing Tony to brace himself. Though the streets were practically empty, roaring down them was fun. The public might not want to know, but most cops loved this stuff. Tony had a feeling his and Rick's inner tails were wagging.

Because there was more to think about than fun, he grabbed one of the padded vests that lay on the back seat. The straps that fastened it were Velcro, the black material spelled to block magical and mundane projectiles. Rick stuck his arm out for his even as Tony readied it.

They ran down their checklist of protections.

"You packing electrum loads?"


"Yup. You got your depowering charms?"

Familiar as it was, the ritual heightened their confidence. They were an experienced team, and they were ready to rock and roll.

The Elm and Fifth subway stop appeared. Its circular aboveground plaza hosted a mini-park. Rick spun the steering wheel one-handed and hopped the heavy Buick over the curb. The car was still rolling slightly when they leaped out. Slamming the doors in tandem, they ran across the grass side by side, toward the clearly marked subway stairs. Lamplight sparkled on concrete, the special city glitter they could only admire at night. Tony sent his wolf senses questing through their surroundings. He didn't hear a swordfight, but he scented a whiff of blood.

The scent came from underground. It had mingled with the stale tunnel air. Rick must have caught it too. He put his arm out to signal Tony to take a beat.

"Be careful," he said in a deeper than normal voice.

His words acted like a trigger to the city's mystical underpinnings. Tony could have sworn the night around them drew in and held a breath. His adrenaline went crazy, his pulse filling up his throat.

A man-shaped star burst up the RTA entrance steps.

The star was a faerie, a pureblood to go by the blinding dazzle his skin shot off. Tony's lungs stopped working as an inappropriate buzz of interest awakened between his legs. Tony had never seen a pureblood this close before. When faeries were in the Pocket, they usually dimmed their looks with glamour. This dude was letting all his gorgeousness hang out. The leather boys at P.J.'s would have drooled over his gladiator-style getup, the briefness of which showed off his tall body. His frame was slenderer than Tony favored, but so fabulously proportioned in its ratio of shoulder to hip to leg that he couldn't have said how to improve it. If that weren't theatrical enough, the faerie's waist-length hair was silver--like a zillion floaty strands had been spun from pure sterling.

Tony had an insane urge to bury his face in it.

The faerie stopped, as surprised to see them as they were to encounter him. His eyes were electric blue, like they'd been plugged into a battery. When his gaze locked onto Tony's, his feet would no longer move.

He cursed silently. Faeries were top dogs on the magic heap. They could out-charm gargoyles and demons and any flavor of shifter imaginable. This faerie's power felt like it was trying to crawl inside Tony. His hands, which were lovely and white as snow, wrapped the hilt of a medieval-looking sword. Long didn't cover how big it was. Pointing up at the moment, the blade was nearly as tall as the shining male. Thick streams of blood dripped down it, coating his exquisite pale fingers.

Tony wanted to lick those fingers for more than one reason.

The faerie's glowing blue eyes widened.

Tony had a strong impression the faerie knew what he was thinking.

He's going to kill us, he thought, realizing Rick wasn't any less faerie-struck than him. The faerie's literally stunning looks had paralyzed them both.

Feeling disloyal to Chris for letting that happen was ridiculous.

"Fuck," he choked aloud.