wanted Rhianne, he’d find her.
But where could she go to escape him? The dokk alfar and the … Ben … seemed to believe they had a place. The dokk alfar lands would be marginally safer, but not if Ivor truly wanted to find her. Even a fortress surrounded by iron and spells wouldn’t keep him out. Rhianne’s father was a dangerous man, not to be trusted.
The dokk alfar moved quickly. He left the river instead of crossing it, winding his way down a narrow side gully until he halted before the sheer face of a cliff.
He gestured to it, saying a word in dokk alfar. Rhianne did not know much of that language, but it wasn’t hard to understand what he meant. Here?
Ben nodded. “Should be.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out something that flashed in the dim light. Silver? Metallic anyway.
He tugged one side of the silver box, and it unfolded on a hinge. Inside, tiny buttons with markings on them filled one side, and a blank space filled the other.
Ah. Cell phone. A communication device. Her mother had brought one home from the human world once. It didn’t do anything in Faerie, but Rhianne had enjoyed herself taking it apart. The tiny pieces had fascinated her.
Ben pushed a few buttons. “You there? Let me in.”
Cian watched him skeptically. He didn’t believe in this human magic either, Rhianne could see.
No, not magic. Technology. Technology had driven magic out of the human world almost entirely. A few pockets of old magic existed there, her mother had said, along ley lines, but they were difficult to find.
“I told you I was sorry,” Ben said into the cell phone. “I’ll be staying home a while this time, promise.”
Nothing answered. Rhianne heard wind in the trees, a pebble moving under her boot, the cry of an eagle in the distance, which tugged at her heart.
Ben rolled his eyes. “I mean, I’ll stay as long as you want.”
The cliff face shimmered. Cian stepped quickly away from it, his soft shoes making no noise on the ground.
Ben took Rhianne’s hand again. She’d liked the surety of his grip on hers as they’d escaped the fortress—strong and warm, an anchor that told her she’d be all right.
“Do not let go of me, no matter what,” Ben said. “Understand?” He regarded her sternly until Rhianne gave him a quick nod.
With a word of farewell and thanks to Cian, Ben braced himself and then sprinted directly at the cliff, pulling Rhianne behind him. She tried to resist at first, but she realized the tingle she felt was the forceful magic of a gate, and knew they’d not run into the sheer rock—at least, she hoped not.
She gave Cian a wave, wishing she could reward him for his part in springing her from Walther’s dungeon, then she closed her eyes, holding tight to Ben’s hand as she raced behind him.
Cold touched her, and then an emptiness that sucked at her soul. A void, horrible, clammy, and desperate, like fog with a determination to siphon off her life force.
Rhianne wanted to gasp for breath, but feared to breathe at all, not wanting to draw the chill denseness into her body. Her chest burned, and she prayed to the Goddess it would be over soon.
Her lungs were bursting. She had to breathe, had to, even though it might be her death.
The cold abruptly vanished. Rhianne landed on something warm that smelled of wool, and light touched her eyelids. She opened her eyes to find herself on her side on a carpet, Ben sprawled next to her.
The light—morning light—came from open windows, sunshine streaming into a large room with wooden panels and strange furniture. A small black chandelier hung from the white-painted ceiling, and it swayed slightly as she gazed up at it.
Ben rolled over. They lay face to face for a moment, Ben’s eyes like the dark of an ancient night.
His face was hard, but not unpleasant, handsome even. One side of his strong neck bore an inked drawing of a spider’s web, the ends of the web touching his cheeks. Rhianne had seen tattoos before—dokk alfar liked them. She’d never found them attractive, at least, not until now.
After a few heartbeats, Ben pushed himself away from Rhianne and climbed to his feet. He reached down to help her rise, the strength in his grip welcome.
“You all right?”
Rhianne, on her feet, brushed off her shirt and trousers, which were beyond saving. Her hair was also grimy, clumped with ooze