Into the Fire (The Unseelie Court Book 4) by Gwen Rivers (free ebooks romance novels .TXT) 📗

effect?” Liam asks as the girl tries to bite his hand.

“I don’t—”

Gretchen falls limp.

“That long,” Aiden smirks and then helps his nephew up.

Liam stares down at her, shaking his head. “Nice to see you again, da.”

Aiden hoists her over his shoulder. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

The farm looks different. Like something I’ve seen on television before and is somehow less impressive in person. There is no smoke curling from the chimney, no signs of life at the veterinary clinic.

“How are you holding up?” Chloe asks Jedda who is settled in the back seat with a book.

“Fine, your ladyship.”

“I love his manners.” my aunt winks and then pops the door. “Come on. I’m sure all the food in the fridge is bad by now, but I can probably scare us up some veggie chili.”

“I’ll be along in a second,” I say.

She studies me carefully but in the end nods and guides Jedda inside the farmhouse.

I head into the barn. It is not much more than an old hay barn, hasn’t worked as more than a garage for years. I let out a breath at the familiar smells. Clean, fresh air. Freedom.

I would have done anything to get it.

Scratch that, not anything. I’m not my mother.

Putting one foot in front of the other, I climb up into the hayloft and sit facing the west, to the setting sun. How much time has passed in Underhill? How long will Aiden and his friendly neighborhood wolves be gone?

“I was wondering where you’d gone.” A voice says from the corner.

I look up unsurprised to see Nightweaver. “Have you been here long?”

She shrugs. “Time really isn’t relevant to me anymore.”

I hear that. “What do you want, Nightweaver?”

“Freedom.”

A chill goes through me. “What do you mean?”

She tips her head to the side. “You needed me for a single purpose, to find the spirits of the Wild Hunt. That was long ago, yet you’ve kept me tethered to them.”

“You know the rules. Once a soul is claimed by The Wild Hunt it belongs to the Hunt for eternity.”

She hisses, her hideous birdlike face pulling up in revulsion. “You aren’t even a queen any longer, not even a fey. The Wild Hunt belongs to another. And yet I made a vow to serve you. Release me.”

“You also made a vow to Underhill.”

She stares at me, her dead gaze unblinking.

I swallow and then shake my head. “I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

“You won’t. Selfish fey bitch. You’re no different than you ever were.” Mist rises up through the barn and she vanishes out the open window.

I put my head in my hands. Maybe Nightweaver is right. I could let her go. What is one spirit compared to all the rest of the Wild Hunt? But if I release her, I have no one to tell me what’s going on across the Veil. Nightweaver is my only connection and spy or no, I refuse to give that up.

A chill travels up my spine and I look to see another ghost lingering in the space. It’s the FBI agent who’d shot Astrid. “What are you doing here?”

He shakes his head, his mouth opening and shutting like a fish out of water.

I blow out a tired breath. “Okay, pal here’s the skinny. You’re dead, I killed you and your soul belongs to The Wild Hunt. They are across the Veil in a land called Underhill. You follow?”

He scowls but then nods.

“What’s your name?”

“Hank. Hank Yates.”

“Well, Hank Yates. You work for me now.”

He didn’t like that. I can see the flare of resentment on his face.

“I have one job for you. About three miles in that direction,” I point to illustrate. “There is a tear in what we call the Veil. Go there and tell me the instant anyone crosses through it onto our side, okay?”

He looks as though he’s going to argue, but then dissipates. Nahini told me it’s difficult on the new ones. That they don’t understand where they are or how they are different. They don’t know why they are compelled to obey me.

I lie back in a pile of hay. It pokes through my sweater, making my skin itch but for the first time in weeks, I am where I belong.

“Nic?” A voice calls my name.

I sit up and then look around, utterly disoriented. “Hello?”

A head pops through the opening by the ladder. Jedda has shed his glamour and again has taken on the silver-blue skin that is so reminiscent of his father. “Chloe said I should come get you. That dinner is ready.”

“Thanks.” I stretch muscles stiffened by the cold. “Any word from the other side?”

Slowly he shakes his head.

I follow Jedda down the ladder and into the house. It smells of hot spices and dust, a side effect for having stood empty for the better part of a month.

“There you are. Dinner’s on the table.”

“Where’s Laufey and Harmony?” Their car had been right behind ours.

“Went for a walk.” Chloe turns to the fridge and extracts a bottle of wine.

“Chloe?” I ask, eyeing Jedda. I’m not sure how much I want to say in front of the boy king.

“What is it?” She tips the entire bottle into one huge glass.

“Nothing.” I tuck some hair behind my ear and concentrate on getting some food into my system.

“What are you going to name your baby?” Jedda asks.

I pause with the spoon partway to my mouth. “You know, I haven’t really thought about it.”

“How about Addy?” His question is innocent but a cold shard spears into my heart. “That’s your other aunt’s name, right?”

Chloe and I exchange a look. “It is,” I say at length.

Jedda nods. “My father said it is important to keep names within families so that the beings who matter know where they come from.”

“How about Addison Sophia?” Chloe says softly.

I smile at the suggestion. Addison Sophia Jager. Because I want the baby to carry Aiden’s last name. Rutherford is just something my aunts made up to help me fit in.

“I’ll suggest it to Aiden.”

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