Those Words I Dread (Tales of the Tuath Dé #1)

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Julien had limited time before the sedative wore off. He didn’t like to resort to involving outsiders, but the boy had clearly involved himself by protecting the fairy to begin with. He buckled Trent’s sleeping body into the back seat of the car and drove back to his safe house as quickly as he could. He parked near the back entrance of the building to avoid being seen carrying an unconscious teenager into his apartment, but he still had to wait near the corner for the room to clear before hefting Trent over his shoulder and hurrying into the elevator.

He had cleared the living room of everything that wasn’t appropriately intimidating, leaving only a heavy metal chair and a dresser laid out with various tools. His sofa had been a casualty of the barghest in any case. Julien wasn’t really in the business of kidnapping people, but if that’s what it took to get the creature off the street, his conscience would be clear.

He dropped Trent in the chair and cuffed his hands behind his back, looping the chain through the bars on the back of the chair. He only had the one set of handcuffs, so duct tape would have to suffice for the ankles. Julien stood back and looked at his captive, checking for any possibility of easy escape. This boy was a human, he reminded himself—not much chance of catching Julien off guard with some unpredicted ability. He took the wallet and phone from Trent’s pockets and set them on the dresser out of reach. Now he only had to wait.

By the time Trent opened his eyes, Julien was in the middle of a piece of toast, but he jumped to his feet and dusted off his hands on his jeans at the younger man’s soft grunt.

“Bon matin,” Julien said, bending over to look Trent in the face. “Sorry for the, you know…fft.” He mimed injecting his own neck. “I had no other choice.”

Trent watched him without answering for a moment, his brain not quite caught up with his eyes. He tried to move his arms and found his wrists bound together. “What the hell is this?” he snapped, jerking the chain against the metal chair.

“Ah, don’t hurt yourself,” Julien chuckled, and he dragged a second chair into the room to sit across from Trent, slouching back in it to light a cigarette. He took a drag before speaking with a lungful of smoke. “I won’t be accused later of damaging you on purpose, tsé?” He let Trent see the handgun tucked into his belt while he let out the breath of smoke. “Relax. Julien Fournier. And you are Mr. Fa, ouais? You can make yourself comfortable.”

“Are you crazy?” Trent gave one more experimental pull on the handcuffs. “You can’t get into my building, so you kidnap me?”

“I can get into your building,” he said. “Getting what I want out of it is another thing entirely. Much easier to have the monster come to me, hm?”

“Only one of you has kidnapped anyone that I know of, so who exactly are we calling a monster, here?”

Julien shook his head and rocked his chair on its back legs. “Je veux pas péter ta balloune, Bibou, but that creature you’ve been protecting is a killer. You have to know that.” He took another drag from his cigarette and tilted his head back to exhale the smoke. “The last woman it killed died only three months ago. It moves quickly.”

Trent hesitated, an unpleasant weight in his chest. Three months ago, Ciaran had been with some woman, and now he was acting like—Trent frowned at the twisting in his stomach that he refused to admit was jealousy.

Julien let his chair drop back to the floor, and he leaned forward to peer into Trent’s avoiding eyes. “What’s that face, Bibou?” He stood to move closer to his captive as he took a breath of smoke, pausing to tap the ash into a small ashtray on the dresser. A slow realization came over him, and he bent down again to look Trent in the face. “W? minute, là. You like it. You two have gotten close, hm?” Trent wouldn’t look at him.

“Tch,” Julien scoffed. “Tabarnak, t’es ben niaiseux! You don’t know what you’re involved in. I should have seen it, though. It seems to go for the pretty ones.” He chuckled.

“Are you done?” Trent snapped. “Or did you just bring me here because you’re lonely?”

Julien took Trent’s phone from the dresser and held it in front of him. “It’s at your apartment, right?” Trent didn’t answer, so Julien flicked the phone screen to turn it on and scrolled through the saved contacts as he put out his cigarette. He found one named ‘Home’ and called it, turning on the speakerphone. He glanced back at Trent. “You think it’ll answer the phone?”

“Why the fuck would he?”

The phone rang and rang until the voicemail clicked on, and Julien listened to the simple message while he waited for his turn to speak. “Bonjour, Monsieur la fée,” he started cheerfully, circling Trent as he spoke and lingering behind him. “You should pick up the phone if you want to keep your human friend in one piece.” He waited a moment and heard nothing. “No? But he misses you so badly. Say hello, Bibou,” he said, and he held the phone close to Trent’s face and snatched his head back by his hair, drawing a small grunt from the younger man. Julien leaned down until his cheek almost brushed Trent’s, and he chuckled. “Ask your lover to come for you,” he said. “Or I’ll break your hands.”

“Fuck you,” Trent ground out, but before Julien could respond, the line gave a telltale click, and the robotic woman’s voice on the other end told him to press 1 if he wanted to re-record his message. The hunter paused, uncertain, and then he ended the call as he pulled away from his captive.

“It didn’t answer,” Julien muttered with a frown, purposely avoiding Trent’s glaring eyes. He hadn’t anticipated this. Had he overestimated the creature’s attachment to the boy? What could he do if the fairy wouldn’t come? He couldn’t just kill a human teenager for no reason. He would try again, he decided. In a minute. He pressed his lips together to keep his worry from reaching his face, and he slipped Trent’s phone into his pocket. “Perhaps he doesn’t care what happens to you, hm?” he teased, hoping it hid how troubling the thought was for the hunter as well.

Trent scowled up at him. “That sucks for you,” he snapped. “Guess you’ll have to let me go.”

Julien tutted at him with a small chuckle. “I think not. Your fairy friend probably just needs more convincing.”

Back at Trent’s apartment, Ciaran sat cross-legged on the sofa with the Xbox headset on, firing wildly across the map and shouting curses into the microphone, the sound of gunfire and explosions completely drowning out the sound of the ringing phone.

Trent slouched back in his provided chair and snorted. “He’s not an idiot. He’s not going to put himself in danger for me.”

“We’ll see,” Julien murmured, and he leaned against the bedroom doorway to light another cigarette. If he gave it a few minutes, surely the fairy would hear the message, or change its mind, or pick up if he called again. He couldn’t kill the boy, but he couldn’t exactly just give up and let him loose after this, either. He had kidnapped a teenage boy—who by all appearances seemed to come from a very wealthy family—and tied him up in his apartment. He had threatened him. At this point, Julien was what you would call committed to the plan.

The hunter exhaled smoke as he watched Trent, hoping he hadn’t horribly miscalculated. If he was forced to let the boy go, he would surely go straight to the police, and Julien would have no choice but to leave the city. He wasn’t ready to leave yet. Not with the fairy still on the loose.

As he reached the end of his cigarette, the cell phone buzzed in his pocket, and Julien did his best to hide his relief as he saw the number marked “Home” show up on the screen.

“Bonjour,” he answered pleasantly, and he took one last puff from his cigarette before snuffing it out in the ashtray.

“Who the hell is this?” Ciaran’s voice came through the speaker .

“I think you know,” Julien said, and he approached Trent with a slight tilt of his head. “And I think you know who I have with me, hm?”

“You think you can ransom him?”

“Ouais, I do,” Julien murmured with a faint smile on his lips.

“Just hang up the phone, Ciaran,” Trent said loud enough to be heard, and Julien’s hand whipped out, his knuckles cracking against the younger man’s jaw as he backhanded him. Trent grunted as his head snapped to the side, and he tasted the blood at the corner of his mouth.

“I would so hate for things to get violent,” Julien said with mock sincerity.

“Stop it,” Ciaran snapped. “He isn’t who you want.”

“C’est vrai!” Julien took hold of Trent’s chin to look down into his glaring face. “I don’t care about him at all. But you do.”

“I didn’t expect you to fight dirty,” Ciaran spat. “Aren’t you supposed to be the good guy?”

“Pantoute,” Julien answered gravely, shaking his head. “I’m not the good guy. I just hunt the things that are worse than me. Today, that means you. You want him safe and sound? I’m happy to trade.”

“This is bullshit,” Trent called up toward the phone. “He’s not going to do anything, Ciaran. You can’t hunt people from jail.”

Julien laughed. “It’s your choice, friend,” he said into the phone. He picked a small knife from the collection on the dresser and dug the blade into Trent’s arm, earning the desired shout of pain. “Your lover has a lot of blood,” he said, wiping the blade of the knife clean on Trent’s shirt. “You really should come before he loses it all.”

Trent heard Ciaran give a hiss of annoyance through the phone, and then the fairy finally said, “Where?”

“Good choice.” Julien gave him the address of the small apartment. “We’ll do a fair trade, hm? If you don’t start trouble, I’ll let your pretty friend go about his business. Nobody wants this to get messy.”

“I’ll be there.” The phone gave a small click as the call ended, and Julien dropped it back onto the dresser along with the knife.

“Now we wait,” he said, and he turned his seat around to sit with his arms on the back of the chair. “He isn’t going to play fair, you know.” He reached into his pocket for his lighter and lit another cigarette.

“Why the hell should he? You’re crazy,” Trent muttered, trying to keep his throbbing arm still as it dripped blood onto the floor.

“You’re sleeping with a murderous fairy, and I’m the crazy one?”

“We’re not—” he started, but then he grit his teeth and went silent.

“Ah, unrequited love perhaps?” Julien laughed in a puff of smoke. “The creature has that effect on people. At least you’ll be able to move on soon.”

Trent didn’t answer him. When Julien left the room to watch the street from the window, he tested his legs and hands again, but the handcuff chain only clanked against the metal of the chair and cut painfully into his wrists. If Ciaran didn’t come, how long would the hunter keep him here? He hoped Ciaran didn’t come. He was recovering, but Trent had still caught him more than once leaning against the counter for balance or taking slow breaths to hide his fatigue. He probably hadn’t helped himself by maintaining an illusion for Trent’s father all night—if that even mattered. Was magic physically exhausting? Trent knew absolutely nothing about how any of it worked.

He couldn’t tell how much time passed before the front door opened. There was no knock, no hesitation—Ciaran stepped into the room as though he belonged there. Julien stood just behind Trent’s chair and smiled broadly at his guest.

“So glad you decided to come,” he said despite Ciaran’s sneer.

“Let him loose,” the fairy snapped without preamble.

“Tsk tsk,” Julien tutted, shaking his head. “I’m not chasing you again. Let’s get this over with, and then I won’t need your lovely friend anymore.” He let his arm rest on Trent’s shoulder, his thumbnail lightly scraping down the bound man’s jaw. Trent twisted his head away with a scowl.

“Don’t touch him,” Ciaran growled. “I didn’t come to play games.”

“I hope not,” Julien answered grimly, and he stepped out from behind Trent’s chair, pulling a long knife from its sheath at the back of his belt. “You remember this?” The iron blade glinted in the light as Julien used it to gesture toward the fairy at his door. “I won’t miss again. ”

“Just go, Ciaran,” Trent called, jerking once more on his bound hands.

“Too late for that,” he said with a faint smile. “He knows how to get me now.” He nodded across the room to Julien. “All right then. Let’s have it done.”

The hunter approached him with a cautious step, watching for any sign of trickery, and at the moment the fairy was within reach, he vanished. He flickered out of sight right in front of Julien’s eyes, reappearing behind him and hitting him hard in the jaw as he spun around. The hunter stumbled back a step but immediately recovered, lunging forward with practiced certainty. Ciaran grimaced as the edge of the knife grazed his arm, and he lifted a hand to Julien’s face, letting loose a blinding flash of light that sounded with a sharp crack. The hunter grunted and turned his face away too late, colored spots dancing in front of his eyes.

“Not so easy when you don’t sneak up on someone, eh friend?” Ciaran taunted, and when Julien charged at him again, he snatched the hunter by the wrist and pushed forward against him, forcing him to double over as his arm twisted backwards. Ciaran pressed against the other man’s wrist, prying the knife from his hand and hissing as the iron touched his skin. The knife dropped to the floor with a loud clatter, and Ciaran gave one more shove forward, the bones in Julien’s wrist breaking with a sickening crunch hidden by his cry of pain. Ciaran shoved the hunter away from him and let him hit the floor with a thud.

Julien cradled his broken wrist as he got to his feet, but Ciaran didn’t give him time to recover. He moved close to him in one long stride and gripped him by the jaw, bending near to his face and softly blowing a cool blue smoke into the other man’s lips. Julien could only fight until the vapor reached his lungs, and then he went slack, crumpling to the ground as Ciaran released him.

Ciaran kicked the iron blade away from him with a small grunt of disgust, his breath coming in weak, shallow pants. “Glad for my fairy bullshit now, aren’t you?” he said with a glance at Trent that earned him only a small smile. He clutched at the wound on his arm as he walked to the dresser, knocking aside jars and various tools until he found a knife made of steel instead of iron. He held it tight in his hand as he moved to stand over Julien, and he tugged the man onto his back by his shirt.

“What are you doing?” Trent spoke up from his chair, pulling helplessly at his bonds.

“I won’t live with a shadow,” Ciaran muttered, dropping down on his knees to straddle Julien’s unconscious body with a heavy, exhausted thud.

“You’re just going to kill him? Just like that?”

“Just like that,” Ciaran snarled over his shoulder, sweat beading on his brow and beginning to trail down his ashen face.

“This is exactly who he said you were,” Trent said quietly. “A killer. Was he right?”

Ciaran paused, frowning at the look on the younger man’s face. Trent didn’t know him as well as he thought he did. He didn’t know who he was. Not really. Ciaran wasn’t sure he wanted him to.

He looked back at Julien, helpless and exposed, certain to come after him again if he left it like this. Certain to put Trent in danger again. The knife felt heavy in his hand as he lifted it, the blade ringing softly as it scraped across Julien’s shirt. He stopped with the tip resting over the hunter’s heart.

“I thought he was wrong about you,” Trent said behind him, the disappointment in his voice like a weight on the fairy’s shoulders.

This man had bested him once. He had killed Maddy. He had tried to take Trent from him and might try again—but without him, he never would have known Trent at all. That was worth something. And vengeance wasn’t worth what Trent would think of him afterward.

With a frustrated grunt, Ciaran tossed the knife away. He put a hand on Julien’s chest to push himself to his feet, and he opened the handcuffs keeping Trent in the chair with a simple touch. As soon as the younger man’s hands and feet were free, Ciaran stumbled, and Trent had to rush to catch him before he hit the floor with as much grace as the hunter.

Ciaran weighed next to nothing in his arms, though he slumped against Trent with his eyes shut and his breath slow. Trent shifted the other man to lift him behind the shoulders and knees, pausing with a short sigh as Ciaran’s head fell against his shoulder .

“You’re stupid for coming,” Trent murmured, but Ciaran couldn’t hear him. He hesitated a moment, watching Julien’s motionless body on the floor, and without a second thought, he set Ciaran down in the nearby chair and knelt down beside the hunter. He reached to take the gun from Julien’s belt, watching him for any sign of consciousness, but the other man lay still. Trent grabbed his cell phone from the dresser, had a quick look outside, and then fired two shots, burying one bullet in the wall and breaking the window with the next. He wiped the handle of the gun with his shirt, dropped it back by Julien’s hand, and gathered Ciaran quickly in his arms again. The fairy stirred but only gave a tired groan, and Trent shushed him as he hastily made his way out of the apartment, leaving the door open behind him. As soon as he was on the street, he called the police to report gunshots inside the building and hurried down the sidewalk in search of a taxi.