Chapter 21

In her dark leather outfit Bo was bouncing among the bushes of the Sacred Forest, her bow at the ready. Her head was a jumbled collection of thoughts, hopes and apprehensions with a couple of half-subdued concerns tugging at the back of her mind. What if she lost and, equally, what if she won? One blonde woman was merging into the image of the other before her mind's eye. Kenzi's wide open clear grey eyes looking at her in mute disbelief when she commented on the necessity to put an arrow into the sacrificial Stag. "He's a criminal, Kenz, I checked – he killed and stole and broke the Light fae laws. A fitting Stag for the first act of the Ash's justice," Bo didn't know herself what force or reasoning pushed the words out of her mouth and didn't even know if she really felt what she said.

A bump in the ground she tripped up over came as a welcome distraction and picking herself up off the wet forest floor the succubus gave herself a mental slap. "Concentrate, Bo! Too much is riding on your success."

Somewhere to her right she caught a sound of twigs snapping under a heavy tread of a large man. "Imbrosio, another contender," the brunette recalled a smug jowly face of the fae Trick warned her against as a dim but bulldog-grip persistent one. Bo accelerated knowing that if persistence equaled stamina she might be at a heavy disadvantage against the man. She sped up along the path, conscious all the time of the heavy but steadily approaching breathing behind her back. The succubus allowed herself to pass a quick hand over her sweating brow and drops of perspiration stung her eyes, the breathing got another bit closer but suddenly there was a yelp and a wisp of cool breeze fanned Bo's dark hair in front of her face. For a second she halted, listening, but catching nothing apart from the strenuous beating of her own heart, she risked turning round.

Imbrosio's massive body was sticking comically out of a deep hole in the ground, his head and upper body caught shoulder-deep. A few meters away a tiny black-clad figure, whose camouflage was broken by smudges of red in the hair, was squatting down under a huge pine-tree, that had obviously served as a vantage point. The sight of giggling Kenzi was always the one to cheer the succubus up, though she did take the trouble to waggle a reproachful finger at the frolicking kitsune. Boosted and advantaged by her bestie, Bo sprinted on while Kenzi took an extra minute to dust off her jacket and blow a bit more of fallen leaves, twigs and soil onto the unfortunate contender effectively thwarting his attempts to wriggle out of the hole trapping him.

Delicate footsteps tore her from the proud contemplation of her handiwork and in a second Kenzi was joined by the valkyrie. "One down," the fox whispered pointing a finger at the generous behind sticking from the ground that they were leaving behind at a brisk walk, "Literally."

"The snake-shifter, that is the bitch in the black shift you said was hugging her ass favourably, the one with a forked tongue, will not be up to doing any hissing for some time," Tamsin evenly returned.

"Hopefully, she'll be also doubting whether the stunning face she saw was actually a wet dream, not that you qualify as anyone's wet dream today. Your involvement, should it come to anyone's attention might cost you," the kitsune suddenly grew serious quoting Trick's earlier warnings.

"The Morrigan is just as interested in getting Bo to win and I am only her humble servant," Tamsin sneered.

"Which means she'll renounce you if we're busted, the permed bitch," Kenzi chortled and took a deep sniff in a comic imitation of Dyson's nose flare, "Ok, two more valid contenders to go, sista, I heard one of them lagging slightly behind but gaining speed. Go get him, my ruthless, and I'll catch up with my girl and see about the other." Denying Tamsin any room to discuss the chain of command, Kenzi made a sharp turn and trotted off in the direction Bo had disappeared in.

The succubus, meanwhile, had caught the quarry in her sights and was steadfastly shortening the distance between herself and the Stag, when a twig snapping behind her made her slow down and cast a cautious look over her shoulder. A tall weedy man dressed in green from head to toe was gaining on her with a measured pace and solid determination of a Terminator unexpected in such a flimsy-looking specimen. Bo flashed back to the instructions Trick had plied her with regarding her rivals in the race and came up with a simple explanation. Trent the dryad, whom Trick had judiciously termed the least accommodating one once they were out in the woods, belonged to the type of forest fae whose life force came from trees, which effectively turned the woods into a feeding ground for him.

Bo cursed under her breath and gathered her strength for a second-wind spurt of speed but Trent had merely to press a palm against the bark of one of the trees in passing to get the edge necessary to overtake the succubus. His green outfit streaked past the brunette and the next thing she was looking at was his back positioning itself between herself and the Stag. As if sensing the doubled danger the hunted man swerved suddenly to the right and disappeared in the clump of underbrush, which extracted a disappointed cry out of both the hunters. Completely winded, Bo stopped with her hands pressed against her thighs, gasping and drawing air into her scorched lungs, red circles dancing in front of her and desperation welling. Next thing she felt was a hearty slap on her leather-covered behind and a cheerful tone of her bestie urging her to move that same exquisite part of her succubody. "I can't, Kenz, he's faster, he feeds from trees," Bo wheezed painfully.

"That's what I am on the scene for," the kitsune stated proudly, "Made you, not to feed you. Just take a short breather and watch the Kenz live, Bobo." With this the girl took a sniff of the woodsy air and raced after the dryad barely visible against the foliage. Shaking tiredness off, Bo straightened and with her breathing evened picked up her pace.

The Stag was zigzagging madly, weaving his way through the bushes, the maneuver which precluded clear aim but slowed him down on the downside. Trent knew the meandering would wear his prey down and was steadily trotting after him without a worry in his mind, when his feet suddenly lost purchase on a layer of leaves blowing from right under the soles of his shoes. The fae slipped and did a face-plant but immediately picked himself up, his eyes searching for the target to find it somehow much more to the north than he had left it before the fall. Accrediting this change of direction to the crazy zigzags the Stag had been making to shake the pursuers off Trent adjusted his course and followed the prey doggedly, with a satisfied smirk on his dirtied but untired face.

From afar Bo, surprised, saw Kenzi sprint in the other direction from the Stag, then come to a sudden halt and work her remote wind control trick to trip the dryad up. As soon as Trent was down, the fox started trembling and the contours of her little figure suddenly blurred to take the form of the Stag. Fascinated, the succubus was watching this display of her ex-human friend's powers, but once her decoyed rival raced off after Kenzi, she snapped out of her awed stupor and chased after the real prey.

In the ceremonial palace after yet another session of shaking hands and pasting on smiles Trick felt he had had his fill of crowd-working for the day and retreated to a secluded corridor of the palace to restore. The worry for Bo, gnawing at him from inside, intensified with each passing minute. He wished he could watch the hunt, though he knew he could trust Bo's little helpers to assist, he feared their failure and yet he equally feared their success. He heard a rustle of fabric coming from the farther entrance to the corridor and shuddered internally at the thought of another set of pleasantries to exchange and another political dance to do. Trick was already forcing his aching face into a smiling mien and turning round when a piercing high-frequency sound hit his ear-drums causing him to yelp in sharp pain and clamp his hands to his head. His arms, however, where immediately pinned to his sides by someone much stronger and suddenly Hale's enraged face lowered itself into his range of vision.

"You?!" Trick whispered in horrified astonishment, "How did you manage to bypass the security? Everyone is looking for you."

"You are forgetting who I am, old man," the siren spat out, "I am old aristocracy, this palace itself used to belong to my father before it was given as a present to the Ash in office for conducting ceremonies. I played here as a child and I know every nook and cranny there is."

The Blood King's face scrunched at this oversight on his part but he honestly hadn't credited Hale with such audacity and imprudence. "What are you doing here, Hale? If they catch you, you'll be tried and sentenced to a lengthy term in prison. Your best bet is to use your family's resources and the leftovers of your connections and leave the country immediately," the older fae said with sincerity.

"You'd just love me to do that," the siren snarled still holding Trick in a grip and towering over him with open menace, "That would clear the way for your miserable gang in more ways than one. Your grand-daughter gets the power, your filthy dog gets Kenzi. You know, I don't begrudge Bo the throne – she's born royal, she's welcome to what her blood entitles her to. But Dyson is not getting my girl!"

"Your girl?!" Trick exclaimed indignantly, "She was never yours and it's not up to you to decide. Kenzi's made her choice and it's Dyson."

"We'll see about that, old man," Hale suddenly broke into one of his habitual smiles but there was no trace of his usual warmth and humour in it. The Blood King was suddenly hit by the realization that the old Hale was gone, whether carried away by the heady power rush or a freak gene playing up or another noxious parasite of the Morrigan's – there was no telling. For a second Trick contemplated if a similar fate of the personality-erosion could befall Bo but was rudely and literally shaken out of his reverie by the siren who gave him a couple of full-force shoves.

"Where is he?" Hale glared down on Trick. "Where is Dyson? Where are you hiding him?"

Once the purpose of the ex-Ash's attack dawned on the Blood King his lips pressed into a stern thin line of stubborn disapproval. "Somewhere you can't reach him," he replied with dignity. "Wrong answer," the siren hissed and didn't waste more words. Another stream of unbearable frequency hit the older fae's ears making him squirm in pain, unable to use his hands pressed to his sides by the much younger and stronger opponent. The torture went on until Trick almost passed out and Hale let him fell to the ground, writhing and clutching at his ears. When the pain abated, Trick raised his hands to his eyes and through his swimming vision saw smears of blood on his palms.

"You still don't realize what I am capable of. Don't stand between me and what I want," Hale's threat-laden voice drifted mutedly through the Blood King's throbbing ear-drums into his consciousness.

"You'll have to try harder than that," Trick wheezed out, "And you might not have the time for it."

"I knew you might decide to act stubborn," Hale smirked and squatted in front of the other man, "So I've stuffed an ace up my sleeve, though it won't be half as enjoyable as the first part." A needle glistened in the young fae's hand and was pushed into Trick's forearm. "A lean and mean solution," the siren mumbled pushing the plunger and sending transparent liquid up the Blood King's veins, "Truth serum."

On the other side of the city Lauren had long abandoned any attempts at concentrating on her work and picked up a monography she had long planned to get a start on. She didn't manage to make any progress with it either, as the reading turned into mere blank staring at the page – information absorption was escaping the good doctor that day. A thump of wood on the wooden floor made her look up and she saw Dyson lower himself at a respectful distance from her on the sofa and position the crutch within easy reach.

"You are worried for Bo?" he half-asked without preamble.

"And for Kenzi, and for you, and for myself. The list of my worries is long," Lauren replied with a sad smile.

"If Bo succeeds, you'll get a chance of being free again. Free from us, fae," the wolf supplied.

"I don't think I'll ever be free, Dyson," the blonde shook her head, "Have you thought what choices Bo herself will have to face once she becomes a ruler? Do you think she'll trust a human, who carries so many fae-sensitive secrets, to walk free?"

"Maybe not, considering," the man agreed thoughtfully, "But isn't this the part where the two loving hearts are working out a compromise? Like you meeting Bo halfway and staying to do the job you love for the woman you love?"

"You are making it sound so simple," the doctor couldn't help admitting to herself, though, that Dyson's words definitely resonated with her. "How long do you think we'll survive together, the Ash and a human? How long before we'll face another conflict of interests, another dilemma, another tasty chi source on two long legs?" Lauren surprised herself by voicing her deep-seated concerns in front of the wolf who used to be one of them.

"Isn't what she gives you well worth whatever she can take from you?" Dyson sounded unexpectedly sympathetic as he leaned back onto a cushion fidgeting for a position more lenient to his back. "Besides, if one day you decide that you're sick and tired of all things fae, we can simply erase your memory and you'll be back to your human-only life with a human job, a human lover and subsequently human sex," he added lightly with a twinkle in his blue eyes, "And here I've just reminded you of one of the things you are in all this for. Quite apart from your craving for knowledge."

Lauren couldn't help a laugh and put her pretend reading aside. "Actually, I am here to take care of you," she answered deliberately misinterpreting his last words and rose from the sofa, "So let me do my doctor thing and check on you without too much grumbling."

"The second best thing to prevent me from grumbling, the first best being Kenzi of course, is a bit of pain," the wolf sighed closing his eyes tiredly for a second. Taking the hint, Lauren hurried out to her room for some supplies while the shifter let his consciousness slip a little under the assault of a fresh wave of pain. When a minute later the doctor returned, he made an effort to re-emerge and peel open his eyes.

"Did you just go into the kitchen, doc?" he asked uncertainly and added after Lauren's negative head shake, "I thought I heard some noise coming from there."

"We might've got ourselves mice with all the half-eaten food Kenzi's been leaving around. It's a real mess in the kitchen," the woman answered dismissively and came up to the wolf with a thermometer and a plastic tube of pain-killers.

"And the back door … also in the kitchen," Dyson murmured and dry-swallowed two of the tablets with a sudden sense of urgency and unease.