On the Edge te-1 Read online

  “I have no intention of leaving until I get what I want.” He stated it as a fact and fixed her with his gaze. Fear blocked her throat. There was no give in those eyes and no mercy. Only savage magic and iron will.

  “If I wish it, you’ll marry me. Shooting me, running me over with a vehicle, or trying to sour my disposition will do nothing to help your cause.”

  She raised her chin. “I’ll fight you to the end,” she promised. “You’ll have to kill me.” She jerked her crossbow up, sighting his chest.

  “I have no intention to hurt you. Go ahead and fire,” he said. “I won’t count it against you—it will save me some breath.”

  She shot him.

  It happened so fast, she barely saw it: a thin shield of purest white flashed in front of him, striking the bolt in midair. The metal and wood disintegrated. He looked down on her. “Your bullets and your bolts can’t injure me.”

  Rose bit her lip, fighting a shiver. It took all of her will to continue glaring at his face.

  The menace in his eyes eased a bit. “I understand why you insist on being unreasonable. This is to be expected, considering your upbringing. Still, we have a dilemma. I mean to have you as my bride. You mean to refuse me. A man’s home is his refuge. I have no wish to share mine with a feral cat who spends all her time sharpening her claws and thinking of inventive ways to flay me when my guard slips. Nor do I want to fight you, especially not with the children here. They might be accidentally injured, and witnessing our violent clash wouldn’t be good for them. There’s a traditional way to resolve this. Challenge me.”

  “What?” Rose blinked.

  “Give me three challenges,” he said. “Three tasks. I’ll excel at each one. When I succeed, you’ll come to me willingly and you’ll obey me.”

  “And if you fail?”

  He permitted himself a half smile. “Don’t concern yourself with that possibility. I won’t.”

  “If you fail, you’ll go away and never bother us again.”

  He shrugged. “Yes, that’s how those things are usually worded.”

  Rose’s mind sped through the possibilities. “And if I refuse?”

  A white glow frosted the green irises. The magic swelled around him, building. It buckled in his grasp, plain even through the two lines of wards. He was monstrously powerful. She got the message loud and clear.

  Rose bit her lip. She had no choice. She couldn’t risk fighting him straight on, not with the boys here. He was very strong, and she wasn’t a pushover. He was right—if they clashed, the boys might get hurt just from the collision of their magics. Besides, she wasn’t sure she could win a direct confrontation. But challenges? She could do challenges. If you can’t outfight an enemy, outsmart him, trick him, swindle him—do whatever it takes to win. That was the Edger way.

  “Three tasks,” she said, managing to sound upbeat. “Whatever I wish?”

  “Within the realm of possible,” he said. “I can’t pluck the moon from the sky and hang it around your neck.”

  “I want you to swear to the terms,” she said.

  He sighed. “Very well.”

  He pulled a narrow knife from his belt and showed it to her. The rays of the rising sun gleamed, reflecting from the wicked metal profile of the blade. “I, Declan Riel Martel, ade Dominik, ade Logran, ade Rotibor, Earl of Camarine, Lord of Longshire, Svyator, and Veres, hereby swear to fulfill three tasks given to me within the next two weeks by . . .” He looked at her.

  “Rose Drayton.” He owned more titles than TitleMax. Maybe he could pawn some of them off, if he was short on cash. With his looks and pedigree, surely some Weird duchess or baroness would gladly marry him. What was he doing here, shattering her life?

  “. . . Rose Drayton, provided they are within human limits. I swear to cause no harm to Rose or her family and lay no claim upon her or her loved ones while I’m engaged in this challenge. Should I fail, I swear to leave Rose Drayton and her family in peace . . .”

  “Alive and uninjured,” Rose put in.

  “Alive and uninjured. Should I succeed, I’ll gain a right to claim Rose Drayton.”

  He sliced his palm. Magic lashed at Rose. She stumbled back. The ward stones rose a foot above the ground, trembling in empty air in a struggle to deflect the surge of his magic, and crashed back into their spots.

  “Your turn.” He held the knife out, handle first.

  Rose hesitated. He did swear. The oath was binding. He couldn’t cause her any harm. She stepped over the ward lines and reached for the knife. Her fingers closed over its carved bone handle, shaped like the head of a snarling cat. “I, Rose Drayton, promise to give . . .” God, she couldn’t even remember his names, there were so many. “. . . you three tasks. If you successfully complete them, I promise to come with you . . .” She paused. What exactly followed? She had to word it in the best way possible.

  He beat her to it. “. . . and be pleasant and agreeable.”

  “That will take a miracle.” She had expected him to add “and sleep with me.” The way he put it left her some wiggle room.

  “You’re right,” he said somewhat mournfully. “We did agree on human limits.”

  “And be pleasant and agreeable,” she bit off before he changed it and backed her into a corner. “I so swear.”

  “Hopeless. The clumsiest oath I’ve ever heard. You’ve had no education at all, have you?”

  She sliced her palm. Magic burst from her in an exhilarating rush, surprising in its intensity. The stones rose, shivering once more, and fell. She might not have his education, but she had plenty of power and a brain. She would handle him.

  He nodded matter-of-factly. “You’re mine.”

  She felt sick to her stomach. “We’ll start on the weekend,” she said, drawing herself to her full height. “Two days from now. During the week, I have to work.”

  He turned and walked away without a word.

  Rose stared after him. He was the sword that had just sliced her life in half.

  The screen door banged open. She turned to see both boys on the porch. Jack glared after the blueblood. His eyes were angry. “You shouldn’t have promised, Rose!”

  “I didn’t have a choice.” She strode back to the porch. “He is very, very strong.”

  “What if he takes you away from us?”

  “He won’t.” Rose looked after the retreating gray figure. “He’s a noble. He’s used to people falling over themselves to cater to him. But we’re not his servants. We’re Edgers. He might be stronger, but we’re smarter. We just need to stump him with a challenge. Don’t worry. I’ll think of something.”

  “Can we hide in the Broken if we lose?” Georgie asked.

  She sighed. “That was very smart, Georgie, but no. We can’t. First, my promise is binding. If I break it, it will come back to me in a very bad way, and I’m not sure being in the Broken would keep it from catching me. Second, some people from the Weird can enter the Broken for a few days without consequences. Even if we ran, there’s a chance that he would find us . . .”

  And he was a lot stronger, too. Just the breadth of his shoulders alone showed the kind of strength she had no hope of countering. She had a feeling that if she shot him, he’d spit the bullet out, sling her over his shoulder, and drag her all the way into the Weird.

  What she really needed to do was to stay home to make sure she could pick the kids up from the bus stop and watch over them. But they had to eat, and missing a day of work wasn’t an option. Her job, as bad as it was, was precious. Only businesses with ties to the Edge hired Edgers—the rest wanted a social security number and a driver’s license, and hers wouldn’t stand up to scrutiny. There were places unaware of the Edge that hired illegal aliens, but competition for those jobs was fierce, and they mostly wanted muscle for manual labor. She could be fired in a blink of an eye, and there would be a line of Edgers ready to take her place.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Rose said firmly. “We won’t run. This is our home. We’re goi
ng to do what Edgers do best: we’ll fight dirty. But we don’t have to do anything about him till this weekend. For now, we just have to watch ourselves and think. Grandma can’t pick you up today. She’s off checking on something with Adele Moore deep in the Wood. And I have to catch a ride with Latoya, because our truck is out of gas. When you get off the bus, I want you to come straight home. Do you understand? Don’t talk to anyone, don’t linger, come straight home, get inside, lock the door, and don’t open it to anybody. Especially him.” She nodded in the direction the blueblood had gone. She fixed them with her stare. “Repeat it back to me.”

  “Come straight home,” Georgie said.

  “No lingering,” Jack said.

  “Get inside and lock the door,” Georgie said.

  “Don’t let the blueblood in,” Jack finished.

  Rose nodded. It would have to do.

  ELSIE Moore hummed softly to herself. It was near eleven o’clock. Time for the brunch. It was going to be a very special brunch, too: she wore her pretty blue dress and had her favorite baby blue silk ribbon in her hair. The sun still shone bright, the weather was pleasant, the garden flowers pretty, and the row of stuffed animals gazed at her with adoration in their plastic eyes.

  Elsie smiled prettily, taking her seat at the green plastic table. “Mr. Pitt, Mr. Brosnan, Mr. Clooney, Mr. Bean, how do you do? Shall we have some tea and biscuits? It’s always a pleasure to see you, Mr. Bana.”

  The bears looked suitably impressed with her excellent manners. As they should be—she was a lady.

  She picked up the tiny plastic teakettle with little pink roses on the side and held it over Mr. Brosnan’s cup. The soft fuzzy paws reached for it.

  She tsked. “Mr. Brosnan, I am shocked at your manners. You must wait until I’ve served the tea to all the gentlemen.”

  The bear dropped his paws, looking ashamed at being chastised.

  A nasty feeling crept down her back, as if someone had poured cold goose fat onto her skin. She gritted her teeth, trying to ignore it. This was going to be a lovely tea.

  The feeling intensified. The sickening slimy magic stuck to her, trying to worm its way through her skin into her bony back, and deeper. It was trying to get inside.

  Elsie dropped the teakettle and turned around.

  It stood on the edge of the lawn, a thing knitted from shadows and darkness. It didn’t like the light and stuck to the shadows cast by the shrubs, blending into the gloom, so the only thing she could see clearly were its eyes: two slits of uniform, slightly luminescent gray, like slanted holes into a skull stuffed with rain clouds.

  She threw a teacup at it. “Go away!”

  The thing didn’t move. A second pair of eyes opened above the first, the same dirty gray. The top pair looked at the teacup rolling harmlessly in the grass. The bottom pair stared straight at Elsie.

  The dreadful feeling along her back grew stronger. The cold slime slid its way around her neck and down. A faint prickling singed her chest and back, as if a dozen tiny needle-feet tested the durability of her skin.

  Elsie screeched and swiped at the cups, grabbing the little plastic pieces in a frenzy and hurling them one after the other at the baleful eyes.

  “Grandma?” Amy emerged from the house, wiping her hands on the corner of her apron. She ran over on pudgy legs. “What’s the matter?”

  Elsie pointed with her shuddering fingers at the dark thing. Amy brushed her curly blond hair from her face and squinted at the shrubs. “What?”

  “It’s trying to get me! It ruined everything!”

  “The bush? The bush ruined everything?”

  “Not the bush, the thing!” Elsie pointed straight at the creature.

  Amy bent to look in the direction of her finger. “Grandma, there’s nothing there but an old crape myrtle shrub.”

  Elsie slapped her cheek. “Stupid girl!”

  Amy drew herself to her full height. “Now that was un-called for. Into the house with you. Looks like you need a pill.”

  “No!”

  “Yes.”

  Elsie tried to scratch, but Amy was stronger and outweighed her by a hundred pounds. She was lifted to her feet and guided firmly inside the house. She twisted her head and saw the dark thing slink to the table. She shrieked, but Amy just wrestled her forward.

  A huge maw split open beneath the four eyes, revealing jaws seeded with wicked teeth. Elsie could do nothing but scream as the monster bit into Mr. Bana, ripping the small body of fur and stuffing in half.

  * * *

  ROSE heaved a large service vacuum into the back of the Clean-n-Bright service van. Latoya and Teresa were still inside Kaplan Insurance. Latoya was chatting up Eric Kaplan, while Teresa finished the bathroom. Eric was a handsome fellow, and he did a very good impression of a happy-go-lucky, none-too-bright type of guy. Latoya thought she could wrap him around her finger. Rose had her doubts. It was Eric’s job to get people to like him and buy his insurance, and judging by the swanky office, he was rather good at it. He had succeeded where his uncle Emerson had failed. Unfortunately, his uncle Emerson also ran Clean-n-Bright, which made him her boss, and he wasn’t half as pleasant as his nephew.

  Rose leaned against the van. Worry sat in the pit of her stomach like a big heavy clump of lead. Dread had plagued her all morning, and she just couldn’t get rid of it. Usually she could figure out the cause of her anxiety—money worries, more often than not—but today she just worried in general. It wasn’t enough she’d run into a wold; now there was a blueblood to deal with.

  She’d mentioned the wold to Latoya and Teresa, who made shocked noises, and then Teresa reported she’d run into Maggie Brewster the other day. Maggie, a gentle cross-eyed girl, had the foresight. According to Teresa, Maggie said something bad was coming. She couldn’t say what exactly—Teresa didn’t think she knew—but she could tell that feeling it scared Maggie out of her wits.

  Maggie had been wrong before. She had predicted a hurricane last October and was convinced they’d all be blown away. Instead they got clear skies and June weather.

  But Maggie had been right before, too. And that worried Rose. She felt as if an invisible storm was gathering and she was on the edge of it.

  Rose shut the van door and jumped. William stood right next to her.

  “Hi,” he said.

  She gulped. “God, you scared me.”

  “Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.” He leaned against the van. “I was just driving by on my way to a job, saw you, and thought I’d say hi. How are you?”

  “I’m good, thank you.” Here he was, handsome and willing, yet she didn’t feel anything romantic. Her heart didn’t “flutter.” The realization was kind of freeing. Rose smiled. She was right. She didn’t need to go on a date with him.

  “How did the first day of school go?” William asked.

  “It went fine.”

  He grinned. “They didn’t have to tie Jack to his chair? He doesn’t look like he could sit still for longer than five minutes.”

  She laughed quietly. “He’s a good kid.”

  “Both of them are good kids.” He nodded. “Is there any way I can talk you into lunch?”

  She shook her head, smiling. “I don’t think it would be a good idea, Will.”

  “Why not? It’s not like I’m going to maul you.”

  She looked into his eyes and caught a glimpse of the same thousand-yard stare he’d trained on Peter Padrake back in the comic shop. He hid it right away, but it was there, waiting inside him. Rose hesitated. This wasn’t going to be easy. “Sometimes two people meet and there is a connection of sorts. An instant attraction. You look at somebody and wonder what it would be like. I don’t wonder that about you. You’re a nice handsome guy. And I want to like you in that way, honestly I do, but there’s just nothing there.”

  He just kept smiling, his grin plastic on his face.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “That’s harsh, and I feel bad about it, but I don’t want to lead you on.”
<
br />   “Rose Drayton.”

  The voice stopped her in mid-word. She turned on her heel, her hands clenching into fists. “Brad Dillon,” she said, her voice dripping with venom.

  Brad looked just like he used to look in high school, when they’d dated. He had picked up a couple of new tattoos and his nose was now pierced, but other than that, he was same old Brad. Still the same hot brown eyes and handsome face. Still looking like he wanted to punch somebody, the arrogant prick. She used to think that smirk was sexy. Now she wanted to slap it off his face.

  Her gun was in her tote inside the van, and Brad wouldn’t exactly let her get it. Without her gun, out here in the Broken, Brad had an advantage. He was bigger and stronger, and Rose had seen him fight enough times to know she couldn’t take him by herself. But she would make it expensive for him.

  Brad fixed his gaze on William, sizing him up. “Don’t know who you are and don’t care. Just want to know what you’re doing with my leftovers?”

  Rose braced herself. In a second William would slug him, and when he did, Brad would come right back at him. William looked strong, but Brad was no pushover and he fought hard and dirty. She tensed, ready to jump right in.

  William looked at Brad with a slightly bored expression.

  “She’s a lousy fuck,” Brad said. “I feel sorry for you.”

  William said nothing.

  Brad tried again. “I’d wear two rubbers if I were you. If you go bareback with that whore, your cock might fall off in the morning. You don’t want what she’s got.”

  William’s stare gained a harsh edge, but Rose couldn’t tell if he was pissed off or scared. “This thing you’re trying to start isn’t worth my time,” William said. “Are you done?”

  “No.”

  “Get on with it. I’d love to chat, but I’m getting kind of hungry.”

  Brad looked slightly confused. “Screw off, asshole.”

  William shrugged. “Anything else?”

  Brad glared at the two of them. She tensed, expecting him to leap at them, swinging. He hovered on the edge of violence, muscles playing along his jaw. Come on, she thought. Bring it. She almost wished he would.