The Lord and the Banshee (Read by Candlelight #13) - Gillian St. Kevern Page 0,49

did they know themselves secure?

All the same, he did not see what appeal his bedroom would hold for their opponents. Cross turned back to the glass, just in time to see movement in the garden below.

Julian’s routine upon returning to Foxwood Court after any protracted absence was always to complete a very thorough circuit of the garden and grounds. He had evidently been taking a break from his investigations to sun himself, stretching leisurely before picking up his jacket and continuing his stroll.

Cross’s throat tasted sour as he swallowed. Was Julian their object?

Pip’s breath hitched. He leaped forward, tugging the curtains shut.

Cross thought he heard a muffled hiss, but it might have been the fabric swinging shut. “What was that?”

“I saw something in the glass.” Pip stared at the curtains, shoulders stiff as he settled himself. “A grey-haired man. It was just for a second, but his eyes—something about his eyes made me feel cold all over.”

Cross scowled at the curtains. Julian had described the fairy lord that he’d met in Paris as ‘silver-haired.’ “No doubt, it’s that blasted Lord D—“

Pip’s hand whipped out, gripping Cross’s wrist painfully tight. “Don’t say his name.”

Cross swallowed and nodded. His situation was dire enough without giving Dian further ammunition against them. To the fair folk, names had peculiar power. Speaking Dian’s name out loud might be the mistake that gave him full possession of Cross.

“I found the book I was looking for. I also found this.” Pip drew an iron crucifix on a long chain from his pocket. “From the exorcism kit of Father Cunningham. I suspect it was part of his arsenal against the fair folk.”

Cross stared at the cross with mixed feelings. The church had done him more harm than good in his life. Could he in all conscience wear the cross?

He met Pip’s eyes, focused on him, usually sunny blue checked with worry. Cross reached for the chain. Pain flared where his fingers brushed the metal. Cross jerked his hand back.

“What’s wrong?”

Cross raised his hand, staring at his finger tips. They appeared unharmed. “The strangest thing. It almost felt like…it burned me.”

“That’s really not good.” Pip worried at his lip. “The fair folk have a marked aversion to iron. For you to be feeling that too is a worrying sign.”

“If I am indeed feeling it.” Cross flexed his fingers. He reached a second time for the metal chain. Searing heat roared across his nerve endings, so painful he could feel his skin blister—but the fingers closed around the chain remained unharmed. Cross carefully raised the chain, dropping it around his neck. At once, the pain stopped.

Cross realised his jaw was clenched. He breathed out, putting a hand to his forehead, finding it clammy.

“Better?” Pip watched him intently. At Cross’s nod, he shut his eyes, body sagging in relief. “That is a great relief! Your expression—I could not bear to see you in such pain.”

Cross squeezed his hand. “It was all in my mind.”

Pip’s fingers threaded through Thomas’s own. “I do not like that they can influence your perceptions to such an extent. We cannot leave you alone.”

Cross tightened his grip reflexively. “What do you propose? Setting a guard over me as though I were a criminal?”

“Thomas, your hand—“ Pip’s voice was strained.

He looked down. His hand was clamped around Pip’s, hard enough to hurt—and a glance at Pip’s face showed he did hurt him. Cross dropped his hand at once. “I am sorry. I didn’t mean—“

“I know.” Pip rubbed his hand, grimacing ruefully. “But we have to come up with some way to ensure that you cannot be made a danger to yourself.”

Or others. Cross stood motionless. His eyes rested on Pip. He imagined him hurt, stabbed through the heart, staring up at Cross with eyes mingled with horror and betrayal. If in those fifteen minutes he had not come to the window, but had instead taken one of the sacrificial knives from the case in which Pip housed them…

Cross stepped back, shaking his head. The thought was monstrous! “What do you suppose their object is?”

Pip pressed his lips together. “I very much suspect this was the goal all along. He knew Julian to be young with considerably older guardians, anticipated that we would decline before Julian did. He must have seen the strength of Julian’s attachment to us, and anticipated that before Julian would see us dead, he would give us the heart—“

“Inadvertently giving Them a way back into this world,” Cross growled. It was all too plausible. “That