A pronouncement like that should have been met with fanfare or swelling music or something, rather than the stunned silence that holds all of us for long minutes. Emma and Taran gaze at one another and I take turns gaping at them and at Kate and Louis. For his part, Louis just looks pleased. Kate seems as shocked and confused as I feel. When I don’t think I can take the silence another second, Emma breaks it with a rough sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob.

 

“I have to hand it to you, that’s a really nice glamour. I can’t even see through it. But I know it’s not real. I know you aren’t who you say you are. Because if you really were related to me, if you really were my father’s brother, and you’ve just been here all safe and secure in your fortress while he was subjected to the Hunt. Again. And again and again. See, that man I’d have to kill.”

With her first furious words, Taran’s light douses and his ears shrink. By the time she finishes his whole body seems to have shrunk an inch or two. He responds slowly, as though exhausted. “I am forsworn. In the early times, before our people fully corrupted, I was too often drunk on the Others. I was not yet lost but had already begun to change. I felt the rot circulating through my blood but believed myself helpless to stop, even if I’d wanted to. Which I did not. It broke my mother to see her youngest son that way. My father tried, but the greed was already on it’s way to seducing him, too. In a last ditch effort to save my corrupted hide, my big brother forced me into a vow to protect what remained of our family. I resented him in the way that siblings often do, and after years of his haranguing me, that had just been the final straw. I was tired of the pressure. Tired of letting him down. Tired of trying to be what he, what our mother, wanted me to be. That night I left with a band I’d been running around with. Some were so far gone they looked nothing like our origins. They were solid black. Oily, and fetid.” 

Kate gasps quietly. I squeeze her shoulder and she looks at me with wide eyes. I nod at her and she takes a deep breath before returning the nod. We’ve all had first hand experience with those evil fae. But they’re all dead now. Every one of them. I hope.

Taran continues his tale, either unaware of or undeterred by our upset. “I feared that was my future, but it wasn’t enough to make me want to stop. The vow tugged at me constantly,” he thumps the center of his chest with a fist. “Pounding away no matter how far away I ran. No matter how many beautiful Others I drained. No matter how rotten I became, it was there, pulsing against my chest like a second heartbeat.” 

I narrow my eyes at him. Taran’s story sounds too familiar. It’s a story I’ve heard many times over. He sounds for all the world like an unrepentant drunk. Like my mother had been.

He looks up then, an ageless sorrow written in the lines around his eyes. “One day, the tug of my vow ceased. It just...stopped.” Taran rubs his chest as if still searching for it. “The only way I knew that to be possible was if every single member of my family perished. I’d heard the Hunt had been called a time or two, but I had no idea they’d actually catch him.” Emma scoffs and he turns to us. He must not see what he’s looking for because he turns back to Emma to continue making his case. “My big brother was invincible. As the first born in this land, he took the best of both of our parents, more powerful, more...everything, than even they had been. The shock of losing him rocked my foundation and brought on an epiphany. My sainted brother had been right all along. I had Enough. I needed No More. Drowning in the grief of losing my family, I went on a blind rampage.” Now Taran’s eyes gleam with a religious-like fervor and he licks his lips. “I killed the remaining members of my gang. And then I went hunting. Rather than the hunting I’d been doing, I hunted every rotten fae I could find. One day I realized my oil coating was thinner. For a long time globules of goo flew off of me whenever I fought. It became my calling card. After a century or so my external shell began a slow morph back into my original form.” The intensity on his face fades and he shakes his head. More than anything now he just looks rueful. “That hurt. A lot. Inside, well inside took longer. Much longer. It was more than a millennia of living in the way my mother would have been proud of before I began to feel my fetid blood cleansing.” 

Taran raises his arm and reaches out to touch Emma’s hair. She sidesteps and dodges his touch. He drops his hand. “Okay. I deserve that.”

“Yes,” Emma snarls. “You do.” 

Again he turns to us, as if we’d ally with him over her. I glare at him. If he thought that story would gain my empathy, he was much mistaken. He nods sharply, and turns back to Emma. He squares his shoulders and raises his chin. “As I said. I am forsworn. Tell me how to make it right.”

Emma’s face red, she grimaces. “Make it right? Make it right? In that nice little sob story you never mentioned trying to find my father. And don’t you dare suggest you had no idea he lived. You had to have known the Hunt was still on.”

Taran’s eyes wide he holds out his arms in a plea. “I didn’t. I swear to you I didn’t know. I cut myself off. I—”

“Liar! Do you think I’m an idiot? You knew and you did nothing to help him. So what if you killed off a few evil ones while you still looked like them. What have you been doing since you turned into…” She gestures at him. “This?” She waits but he doesn’t say anything. “That’s what I thought. You fucking coward! While you hide out here in your fortress, he’s still fighting for his life! And you stand here sweating money and have the gaul to ask me how to fix your fuckup?” Emma throws up her hands and stomps away. 

Gah, I’d really, really love to punch that guy in the throat. I watch Emma’s stiff movements, anger warring with fear for her father in every step she takes. I want to hug her, comfort her, but I recognize the fact she’s battling demons right now and needs to wrestle them on her own. 

Taran raises his voice at her retreating back. “I am forsworn. You must tell me how I can atone!”

But Emma ignores him, stalking further away. Louis clears his throat. Taran turns to him and for a fleeting second, I see panic on his face. But it’s quickly replaced with anger.

“You. You set me up. I should have you killed for exposing me like this.”

I note he said have you killed, not kill you myself. I study his too perfect face. Wait. Is he afraid of Louis? I frown at the vampire beside me, but he ignores me, his attention never wavering from Taran’s face.

Louis nods at Taran agreeably. “Oui. You could. And, if you managed to succeed, you would have the might of JN Securities on your head. You could run. But forgive me. How long has it been since you last left your...fortress?” Taran’s lips thin, but he doesn’t reply. “As I thought. A shame.” Louis shakes his head in commiseration, but Taran doesn’t seem affected. “Now, I may have an idea to help you out of this predicament you find yourself in,” Louis says mildly. “Please do correct me if I am misunderstanding, but a broken vow must be paid, or the forsworn...dies?”

At Louis’ last word, Taran’s blank face crumbles. “I did not know. I swear it. I severed my ties.” He stumbles toward Louis, his eyes pleading, his hands outstretched. Louis moves in a blur, jerking Kate and I aside and stepping into Taran’s pathway. It brings the fae up short and he blinks at us over Louis’s shoulder as if surprised to find us in a different place. It’s only when his pleading morphs seemlessly back into anger that I realize he intended to grab Kate or me.

Taran grimaces at Louis. “You are starting to get on my nerves, vampire. You should know that’s not good for your health.”

 

Louis chuckles. “I thought we settled this already. You cannot afford for anything to happen to me. And while we are establishing who is off-limits, allow me to introduce to you my companions.” He points to me. “This lovely young woman is Libby. She is the intended of my employer, Jo Granger.” He points to Kate. “And this beauty is Kate. She is mate to an alpha wolf shifter, one of Jo’s very good friends. And you’ve already met Libby’s dear friend, Emma O’Shea.”

Taran steps back and rolls his shoulders. “All right. You’ve made your point.”

Louis claps his hands together in front of himself. “Excellent. Now, back to this vow you failed to uphold. Remind me, what is the punishment for this?”

At the sound of her footfalls, Taran turns to watch Emma walk around the tail of the jet. I don’t like the hungry look in his eyes. “Speak quickly, vampire, before I get bored and decide to entertain myself.”

“I might be able to help you out of your predicament.”

Taran slants a look at Louis before refocusing on Emma. “How convenient.”

Louis nods. “You help us, we help you. Oui, very convenient. You see, these lovely women are on a quest. They must face a mighty foe.”

Taran narrows his eyes. “Which mighty foe?”

“The Empress,” I say.

“No. Absolutely not.” Wide-eyed, Taran looks Kate and me up and down. He laughs. “Tell me you’re joking.”

Emma joins us, grinding her teeth. The walk doesn’t seem to have helped her much. I drape my arm across her stiff shoulders and she shoots me a smile full of teeth. But she does take a deep breath and her shoulders relax under my arm.

 

“Not joking, though I wish we were,” I inform him. “Still, she won’t be the first old vampire I’ve killed.”

 

Watching Taran’s eyebrows climbing up his brow is very satisfying. He looks at Louis for confirmation, but the vampire slowly shakes his head with feeling I know he isn’t faking. He’s always felt bad about my run ins with vampire who mean me harm. “Mademoiselle would not lie about such serious things.”

Taran throws his head back and laughs. We exchange looks but wait him out. I’m tempted to try out some of the new moves Chris and I have been working on when his hilarity finally dies down and he catches his breath. 

“All right vampire,” he gives me an assessing look. I give it right back. “What do you want from me?”

Louis blows out through pursed lips drawing the fae’s attention back to him. “Only your assistance. What that looks like you must decide. I do know that to atone, you must help them both.”

Narrowing his eyes, Taran turns his attention back to Louis. “What do you mean?”

“I mean you must help both living members of your family, of course.” He gestures to Emma. “Your niece on her quest. And your brother. You must go to him.”

Taran takes a step backwards. “Leave? You want me to risk—”

“Oh, give me a break,” Emma stalks toward Taran. “So help me, if I have to drag your—”

Louis places a restraining hand on Emma’s arm. “That will not be necessary, mademoiselle. Will it, Taran?”

Taran stares at Louis for a long moment before his demeanor changes once again. He straightens to his full height, rolls his shoulders back, and for the first time since he appeared in the doorway, the steely look in his eyes gives me pause. How many different looks is this now? I’ve lost count. Apparently I’m not the only one thinking this. 

Kate surprises a giggle out of me when she murmurs, “A girl could get whiplash trying to keep up with this dude.” No one laughs, but she succeeded in breaking the tension.

He bows to Emma. “So be it. My debt must be paid and I cannot face The Empress. One of her gifts is borrowing power. If she took mine, she would be unstoppable, albeit for a short time.” 

Leaving him helpless – he conveniently avoids saying that bit.

“Of course, The Empress is accustomed to it. She doesn’t need a long time to use borrowed powers. She knows which powers she wants and how best to take advantage of them. It’s how she’s stayed alive for so long. No one powerful can take her down.” He studies the three of us. Mostly to himself, he says, “Oh. Oh! That just may work.” Nodding pensively his eyes go slightly out of focus. Taran taps the pad of a slender index finger on his Adams apple and speaks at his normal volume. “I require the bronze chest from the safe in the 3rd floor bathroom with the hot tub, immediately.” His eyes back in focus he shrugs. “I can’t guarantee this will help, but what you are doing is impossible anyway.”

“Wow, thanks for that amazing vote of confidence,” I grump. “Way to build us up.”

He bares his perfectly even white teeth. “Look. I didn’t ask you to come here. So don’t blame me for telling you what you’re about to face, little girl. Better people than you have tried to take her down. Bigger, stronger, more prepared people. Most of them didn’t live to tell the tale. Those that did survive didn’t dare speak of it. That’s the truth. You might as well just give it up now.”

Louis clears his throat. “Thank you for enlightening us with your partially informed opinion.”

“Partially? Are you suggesting my informant was faulty?”

“On the contrary, monsieur, I’m saying your information is outdated.”

Taran frowns. “Outdated, vampire?”

“Oui, I am sad to say, you do not have the most up to date information. You see, I did some digging of my own on the way here and found someone willing to talk.” He shakes his head sadly at Taran’s interested look. “Non, this person assured me they would speak only to me.”

Taran scoffs. “And I’m just supposed to take your word for it.” Louis raises his eyebrows and nods. “Right. Whatever you say, Frenchman.”

If Louis was going to say anything more, the door opening prevents him. A short man armed with a mean-looking long gun he holds across his chest pushes the door open for a slightly taller man carrying an ornate burnished metal chest. As he walks in, the guard pulls the door shut behind him. Both sport the bulky torsos bullet-proof vests create.

The man carrying the chest is older, if his steel gray hair is any indication. His body is stocky. Muscular. It’s a good thing since the chest looks heavy despite not being very large. He carries it with one hand cupping the bottom of each end, ignoring the handles which appear to be old leather. The man doesn’t appear to be struggling, but the fine sheen of sweat on his forehead tells a different story. He sets it down in front of Taran and backs away a few steps. He stops with his feet shoulder width apart, head bowed, hands clasped behind him. For just a second when he set the chest down, his jacket shifted and I discerned a pistol holster. Taran ignores him, staring intently at the chest as if it might do something. I watch the man warily for a moment, waiting for him to whip the gun out and aim it at us. He never moves. Finally, I turn my attention to the chest.

Like a treasure chest, the top is rounded rather than flat. The entire exterior surface is covered, not an inch lacking something on it. It’s vertically striped on each end with ornate medallions, each about 3 inches in diameter, depicting fantastical animals and strange plants. In between them the smooth shining surface is covered with engraved swirls and lines in an almost floral motif, that I could swear I’ve seen before. 

Taran crouches before the chest. He takes a big breath and begins to sing to it in a low voice. The song isn’t familiar. I strain to catch a word, but after a minute I realize it isn’t English, or French, or any language I recognize. His mouth forms words I’m not sure mine would even be able to reproduce. Is it Irish? Or fae? I glance over at Emma’s rapt face. Her eyes are closed and a tear tracks unheeded down her cheek. Obviously she knows the song or at least understands it.
A flash of heat envelopes my hip, under the sheath. By the time I rub a hand over the area, it’s stopped. Before I can puzzle over it, my attention is snagged by what’s happening with the chest.

Slowly, as if his song creates it, a spotlight appears on the metal box. I search the high ceiling but can’t find a source for it. Studying it a little more I think the light somehow radiates from the chest itself. What’s etched upon the surface seems to be moving, too. At first I think it’s because the light became brighter and my vision is playing tricks on me. I blink a few times, but the etchings don’t stop. In fact, now they look like words, but I can’t make them out from this distance. Dimly I note the dagger starts to vibrate but I’m too enthralled by what’s happening on the chest. As the song shifts subtly, the words begin to shrink and expand with the cadence of his tune, shrinking down until they nearly disappear before growing and enlarging until they coalesce and overlap, blurring together. I feel like my body does the same. Expanding with my deep, deep inhale, collapsing in on itself with my long exhale. The sensation continues until I feel like my cells might fly apart. The animals and plants in the medallions come to life swaying to and fro with the song. Louis lays a hand on my shoulder and I realize I’ve been swaying in time, too. I cross my arms and grip my biceps, trying to hold myself still. Trying to keep my insides inside. I’m immediately sucked back into the song as it soars higher in his resonant tenor. The activity on the bronze chest moves faster in reaction and my breaths come faster, too. The chest starts to shake. On a last clear high note the song ends, the light extinguishes leaving me blinking spots away, and the top of the chest springs open on silent hinges. 

I work to slow my breathing, rubbing the goosebumps off my arms under my layers. That was wild. I swipe tears off of my cheeks and look over to see Kate doing the same things I am. She nods her head toward Emma and I turn my attention to my best friend. Tears still course down Emma’s face but she does nothing to stop them. She and Taran are locked in a gaze at one another. She looks shellshocked. He looks at her with such tenderness I didn’t think he was possibly able to have. 

“That song,” she whispers.

“Aye, that song.” His face turns quizzical. “You know it, do you? Your da teach you the Song of Opening?”
Her tears stop. She sniffles deeply and wipes her face with her hands. In true Emma fashion, she takes a minute to swipe under her eyes for stray mascara and fluffs her hair. The wonder is out of her voice when she answers him, as if she just remembered she’s mad at him. She squares her shoulders. “No. I heard him once, through his office door. When I was in elementary school.”

“Not a song you’d soon forget.”

He’s right about that. The melody still echoes in my mind and it’s still taking effort not to hum and sway with the memory of it. I’m just relieved my body feels its normal size again.

Emma’s voice softens a little. “No. No it isn’t.”