Iron Kissed

Warren didn't say anything; not when I was fighting for breath and not when I'd recovered—which is one of the reasons I love him.

I hit the lights as soon as the sweat began drying on my shirt.

"I'm not too optimistic about the Rabbit's chances," I told Warren. "When Gabriel and I brought it home, I checked it out a little. Looks like Fideal turned my diesel to saltwater—and it's been sitting in my tank and lines since Tuesday."

"And that's bad." Warren knew about as much about cars as I did about cows. Which is to say, not a thing. Kyle was better, but given the choice, he'd opted for the air-conditioned house and chocolate chip cookies.

I popped the hood and stared down at the old diesel engine. "It'd probably be as cheap to go find another one in a junkyard and use this for parts as it would be to fix it."

Problem was I had a lot more places to put money than I had money to put there. I owed Adam for the damage to his house and car. He hadn't said anything, but I owed him. And I hadn't been to work since Wednesday.

Tomorrow was Monday.

"Do you want to try this later?" Warren's sharp glance lingered on my face.

"No, I'm all right."

"You taste of fear." It wasn't Warren's voice.

I jerked my head out from under the hood hard enough to kink my neck. "Did you hear that?" I asked. I'd never run into a ghost at my home, but there was a first time for everything.

But even before he said anything, I saw the answer in Warren's body posture. He'd heard it all right.

"Do you smell anything unusual?" I asked.

Something laughed, but Warren ignored it. "No."

Let's see. We were in a brightly lit building with no hiding places and neither Warren nor I could see or smell anything. That left two things it could be, and since it was still daylight outside, vampires were out.

"Fae," I said.

Warren must have had the same thought because he picked up the digging bar I kept just inside the door. It was five feet long and weighed eighteen pounds and he picked it up in one hand like I'd grab a knife.

Me, I picked up the walking stick that was lying by my feet where a moment ago there had been nothing but cement. It wasn't cold iron, but it had saved my life once already. Then we waited, senses alert…and nothing happened.

"Call Adam's house," Warren told me.

"Can't. My cell phone's still dead."

Warren threw back his head and howled.

"That won't work," the intruder whispered. I cocked my head. The voice was different, bigger and had a distinct Scots accent. It was Fideal, but I couldn't tell where he was. "No one can hear you, wolf. She is my prey and so are you."

Warren shook his head at me; he couldn't tell where the voice was coming from either.

I heard a pop and saw a spark out of the corner of my eye just before the lights went out.

"Damn it," I growled. "I ca

I don't have windows in my pole barn, but it was still bright afternoon and the light leaked in around the RV-sized garage doors. I could still see just fine, but there were a lot more shadows for Fideal to hide in.

"Why are you here?" Warren growled. "She is safe from your kind now. Ask your precious Gray Lords."

Fideal emerged from hiding to hit him. For a moment I saw him, a darker form vaguely horse shaped, the size of a large donkey. His front hooves co

I hit the fae with the walking stick and it throbbed in my hands like a cattle prod. Fideal bugled like a stallion, twisted away from the stick's touch, and vanished into the shadows again.

Warren used the distraction to regain his feet. "I'm fine, Mercy. Get out of the way."

I couldn't see Fideal, but Warren held the digging bar like a baseball bat, took two steps to his right, then swung and co

Warren could perceive the Fideal, but I still couldn't. He was right—I needed to get out of the way before I blundered and got Warren hurt.

I put the Rabbit between me and the fight and then started looking around for something that would be a better weapon against the fae.

There were lots of aluminum fencing supplies and old copper pipes for plumbing. All my pry bars and good steel tools were on the other side of the garage.

Fideal shrieked, a nasty ear-splitting sound that echoed wildly. It was followed by a ringing clank, like a digging bar being flung across a cement floor.

Then there was no sound at all and Warren lay unmoving on the floor.

"Warren?"

Not even the sound of breathing. I ran across the garage to stand over his body, still armed with the walking stick. There was no sign of Fideal.

Something cut my face. I swiped blindly and this time the stick vibrated like a rattlesnake's tail when I co

I jumped over the fallen jack stand, knowing that Fideal couldn't be too far away. As I rounded the tool chest, something big hit me.

I landed on the cement chin-, elbow-, and knee-first. Helpless. It took me a full second to understand that the buzzing in my head was someone snapping nasty phrases in German.

Even dazed and facedown on the floor, I knew who'd come to my rescue. I only knew one man who snarled in German.

Whatever he said, it made Fideal lose control of whatever magic he'd been doing to block my nose. The whole building suddenly reeked of swamp. But it stank more in one place than any other.

I ran for the place where the shadows were the darkest.

"Mercy, halt," Zee said.

I swung the walking stick as hard as I could. It co

Fideal shrieked again and made one of those impossible leaps, jumping over the Rabbit and up against the far wall, knocking the walking stick from my hand as he leapt past me. He wasn't down or even hurt. He just crouched in a ma

Zee didn't look like someone worthy of the wariness of a monster. He looked as he always had, a man past middle age, lanky and rawboned, except for his small pot belly. He bent over Warren, who started coughing as soon as Zee touched him. He didn't look at me when he spoke. "He's all right. Let me handle this, please, Mercy. I owe you at least this."

"All right." But I picked up the walking stick.

"Fideal," Zee said. "This one is under my protection."

Fideal hissed something in Gaelic.

"You grow old, Fideal. You forget who I am."

"My prey. She is mine. They said. They said I could eat her and I will. Barnyard animals they give me. That the Fideal should be reduced to eating cow or pig like a dog." Fideal spat on the ground, showing fangs blacker than the grayish slime that coated his body. "The Fideal takes its tribute from the humans who come into its territory to harvest the rich peat to heat their houses or the children who venture too close. Pig, faugh!"

Zee stood up. The area around him lightened oddly, as if someone were slowly turning up a spotlight on him. And he changed, dropping his glamour. This Zee was a good ten inches taller than mine and his skin was polished teak instead of age-spotted German pale. Glistening hair that could have been gold or gray in better light was braided in a tail that hung down over one shoulder and reached past his waist. Zee's ears were pointed and decorated with small white slivers of bone threaded through piercings that ran all the way around them. In one dark hand he held a blade that was identical to the one he'd let me borrow except that it was at least twice as long.

Shadows pulled away from Fideal, too. For a moment I saw the monster that Adam and his pack had fought, but that gave way to a creature that looked like a small draft pony, except that ponies don't have gills in their necks—or fangs. Finally he became the man I'd first met at the Bright Future meeting. He was crying.