Warrior Rising - By Pamela Palmer Page 0,26

each of the pair's foreheads, the color difference startling.

"How badly are they injured?"

Ilaria's brows drew together. "The child not at all, but the woman hit her head. I feel a trauma." Her gaze widened, a startled, almost wondrous look on her face.

"What's the matter?" he demanded.

"Nothing. They're not Sitheen. Touching them allows me access to their memories, their knowledge. I understand your world, finally. Incredible. The things you've accomplished."

"It doesn't hurt them when you do that." It wasn't even a question because he already knew the answer.

She frowned slightly as she watched him. "No." Closing her eyes, her face became a mask of concentration. "There. The trauma is gone now."

"You healed her?"

Her lashes swept up. "Yes."

He nodded, a warmth engulfing him. "Good. Thank you."

She studied him with enigmatic eyes, as if uncertain if his attitude toward her had really changed. Slowly, her mouth kicked up in that impish smile, her lips parting as if to speak. But whatever she was going to say was silenced as the mother-daughter pair began to stir.

The woman blinked groggily, struggling to sit up. "What happened?"

"Mommy?"

The woman's hand reached for the child, pulling her against her. Beyond the parking garage the sound of a scream rent the air. Shouting and cries and confused voices soon followed. Everyone was starting to wake. And not as enchanted zombies, thankfully.

"You're safe," Harrison assured the pair. "You had an accident. A lot of people passed out. We're not sure what happened." Which was true enough.

"You look like a princess." The little girl's wide eyes were fixed on Ilaria.

A genuine smile spread across Ilaria's face, sending Harrison's pulse throbbing. "I am a princess, little one."

"A fairy princess?"

"Yes, indeed. A real one."

A fairy princess. Good God.

"I'm Princess Ilaria from the land of Esria." She placed her hand on the child's head and smiled. "Be well."

He stared at her, feeling like everything he'd ever understood of good and evil had just been flipped end over end. Humans had once thought them angels, she'd said. And, heaven help him, in that moment he understood why.

Without thinking, he held out his hand for her. "We need to go."

The light still dancing in her eyes, she placed her hand in his and allowed him to help her up.

As his fingers closed around hers, their gazes locked, awareness arcing between them. And a deep, surprising warmth. Once again, he felt himself falling into that green gaze, right through the door to her soul. A soul untainted by darkness or evil. He felt encompassed in a brightness that drew him on the most fundamental level.

Her lips curled upward ever so slightly and it was all he could do not to pull her back into his arms. But this was neither the time nor the place. With a shake of his head, he broke eye contact and led her through the garage to where he'd parked his car. But a glance at the entrance disabused him of any thought of driving out of there. From where he stood he could see three vehicles, including a delivery truck, blocking the entrance in one impressive tangle.

"What do we do now?" Ilaria asked, her gaze following his.

"I'm not sure. We could try the metro, but God only knows what kind of mess this caused underground. We'll have to walk until things open up."

"How far is the gate?"

"Miles from here. Hopefully we'll be able to find a cab or a ride, at some point."

Together they made their way out of the garage, past the wreckage, and into a scene of confusion and terror. Some of the people who'd been lying in the street or in the cars now stumbled, injured and confused. Others screamed or shouted, or ran, seeking help. Others remained where they'd landed. Not everyone had regained consciousness. Some never would.

In the distance the flicker of flames licked at the night sky from a source he couldn't see.

"Ilaria..." He glanced at her to find her staring at that distant fire, too. She didn't seem to have heard him. "Ilaria, I need to ask you something."

She shook her head, as if shaking herself loose from some dark thought, then glanced at him.

The words caught in his throat. "My daughter...Stephie..."

"You're mated...married?"

"No. Not for years. But I have two kids, a nine-year-old-son, Sam, and a seven-year-old daughter." Why was he telling her this? If the Esri figured out, rightly, that his kids were Sitheen, they could all the more easily hunt them down. But he knew why he was telling her. Watching her