Swallowing Darkness - Laurell K. Hamilton [129]
Dawson was beside me when Jonty and I met in the field. The wizard trusted me, but he had brought soldiers with guns, just in case. Jonty smiled down at me through his mask of blood. I tried to see that smile the way Dawson and the other humans must see it. Frightening, I supposed, but I could not see it that way. It was Jonty, and the blood flowing down him called to my hand of blood, so that I held that hand out to him. He put his large fingers against my palm, and magic jumped between us, tingling and rushing, like warm champagne with a little electricity in it.
“What was that?” Dawson asked, which meant he’d felt something, too.
“Magic,” I said.
The blood ran faster, thicker, from Jonty’s cap, so that he had to wipe his hand across his forehead to keep his eyes free of blood. He laughed, a great, rumbling, joyous sound. The other Red Caps began to crowd around, to touch the blood on him. Those who touched bled more.
“What is happening?” one of the other soldiers asked.
“I carry blood magic, and the Red Caps react to it.”
“She is too modest,” Jonty said. “She is our mistress. The first sidhe with a full Hand of Blood in centuries. We felt her call to our blood, and we came to join the battle.” He frowned then. “The other goblins did not feel the call of blood.”
“I have a treaty with Kurag. He should have still sent men.”
“The goblin king knew who you fought, and he would not stand boldly against the queen.”
“Coward,” one of the other Red Caps muttered.
“You went against your king to come here,” I said.
Jonty nodded. “We cannot go back to the goblin mound.”
I looked at them, dozens of the most dangerous warriors that the goblins could boast. I tried to picture them permanently stationed in Los Angeles. I couldn’t quite picture it. But I couldn’t leave them homeless. They had shown more loyalty than most of the sidhe to me. I would reward that, not punish it.
Orlando called out. “The darkness is fading.”
We turned, and found that he was right. The darkness was fading like some polluted mist. Andais was gone, and so were Cel and several of the other armored figures, but not all. Had she left them as a punishment or because she could not transport all of them? She had gained in power like most of faerie, but not to the point that she had once been, when she could make entire armies of the Unseelie appear and disappear. Andais might try to make a reason for leaving some of Cel’s allies behind, but in the end, I knew she had left them because she wasn’t strong enough to save them. For she would be certain that any left behind would be killed. It’s what she would do.
In truth, there was only one figure on that side of the field that I cared about. Whether the rest lived or died was nothing to me. Only Doyle mattered. If he lived, then it was all good; if he was…not alive, then I wasn’t sure what I’d do. I couldn’t think past the need to cross the field and see if his heart still beat.
Dawson stopped me from taking the lead, and put some of his men in a line of guns pointing at the wounded sidhe. Jonty stayed at my side, and the Red Caps came at our backs. I started to say that we should put the Red Caps in front. They were a lot harder to kill than humans, but we were almost there. I didn’t want to do anything to delay touching Doyle. In that moment, I was not a leader of men, I was a woman who wanted the man she loved. In that moment, I understood that love is as dangerous as hate. It will make you forget, make you weak. I did not push the soldiers aside and run for Doyle. That took all the control I had left. Beyond that, there was nothing but the fear that crushed my chest tight, and the ache in my hands to touch his skin. If he were dead, I wanted to touch him while his skin still felt like him.