Dark Deceiver - Pamela Palmer

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in their growing excitement over the slave’s arrival. He was tempted to whirl and fling another couple of bodies, but refrained, given the extraordinary nature of the gathering.

      Around the hall, whispers darted from person to person like hummingbirds set loose on a garden of flowers. “The lost gate has been found!”

      King Rith raised his hand, demanding silence, then speared the small man at his feet with an eager gaze. “Your master is dead.”

      It was not a question. All Esri knew the moment one of their own was killed, as well as the identities of both murdered and murderer. A month ago, the court had fallen silent, rocked by the knowledge that after fifteen hundred years, one of their own had been killed by humans.

      “Aye, sire.”

      “And do you know the location of the lost gate?”

      The slave touched the floor with his forehead, then lifted his bald head. “Aye. I have been through it myself.”

      Incredible, Kaderil thought, his mind racing even as he stood at attention, his feet spread, his arms at his back. Fifteen hundred years ago the seven stones of power were stolen into the human realm and used to seal the gates from the other side. Rumor had always claimed that a single lost gate had been left unsealed, but it had never been found.

      Until now.

      The king grabbed the slave by the tunic and dragged him forward. “And what of my seven stones?”

      The slave’s arms waved in agitation. “Only the draggon stone was found, sire. ’Twas the smell of the stone’s power that led my master to the gate. But the stone was lost, sire. Lost to the humans who killed him.”

      King Rith released the creature with a shove. “How is this possible? Humans cannot kill an immortal without the death chant. Surely no humans exist after all this time who remember that bit of magic.”

      The slave prostrated himself, his voice muffled by the floor. “I beg your pardon, sire, but there are a few. They are the descendants of the mixed bloods, the mortal children of both human and Esri. The humans we once called Sitheen.”

      Mortals with a drop of Esri blood, Kaderil thought. Just as he was an immortal tainted with human. But the only things they had in common were a lack of true power and the look of the humans. The Sitheen would blend into their world as he never had into his own.

      “The Sitheen must die. All of them. They will not thwart us again.” King Rith slapped the carved arm of his throne. “I will have my stones. Zander, come forth.”

      As Zander stepped out of the arc of silver tunics and came to stand beside him, Kaderil clenched his jaw. Zander made no secret of his hatred for the human-looking Punisher, yet he had never told Kaderil’s secret. Why? Kaderil had spent centuries waiting, tense and wondering, for the day Zander would bring his world crashing down around him.

      The king nodded to the captain of his guard, ambition glittering in his eyes. “You will fetch me the seven stones, Zander.”

      “Aye, sire.”

      “You will take a team of stone scenters into the human realm at the gate’s next opening to find my power stones. I leave it to you to find and kill the Sitheen.”

      “Yes, sire. But if it please your highness, I should like to take one more.” Zander glanced at Kaderil with a gleam that sent a chill of foreboding down his spine. “I would take the Punisher, my lord.”

      Kaderil jerked. What was Zander up to? Zander knew, as no one else did, he was unsuited for this task. He had no gifts of power, nothing save his great size and strength.

      “’Tis well known Sitheen cannot be fooled by glamour,” Zander continued. “With Kaderil’s barbaric human looks, he has no need for that fine magic.”

      Zander’s voice fairly brimmed with unnatural enthusiasm, igniting Kaderil’s wariness, as well as his annoyance.

      “Kaderil is the perfect man to infiltrate the Sitheen and retrieve your draggon stone, my king. They will think him one of them, allowing him to infiltrate their band and slaughter them with ease.”

      Kaderil opened his mouth to object. There was little to be gained by the time-consuming and dangerous ploy of infiltrating the barbarian’s band when the others could fulfill the mission through the power of their gifts. There was little to be gained and much to be lost. If the Sitheen discovered his ruse, they would sing the death chant for him.

      Before the words could escape his lips, he felt Zander’s palm clap him on the shoulder, silencing him with a river of fire that stole his breath and streaked his vision with jagged flares of light.

      Fighting the blinding pain with every scrap of strength he possessed, Kaderil snatched the hand off his shoulder. As he sucked air into his burning lungs, he snapped the man’s white forearm with a satisfying crack.

      Zander gave a shout and sidestepped Kaderil’s reach with a look of venom. “Kaderil will fetch your draggon stone quickly, sire. Between one full moon and the next.”

      One month. Kaderil struggled against the nearly overwhelming urge to snap Zander’s neck and every bone in his body. One month to do a nearly impossible task. He knew now what Zander was about. His enemy was setting him up to fail.

      The king nodded greedily. “Aye. Aye, indeed, I will have my stones by the next feast.”

      Cold tension wove through Kaderil’s muscles at the full measure of Zander’s treachery. The Esrian king was notoriously unforgiving. Failure resulted in banishment. And banishment, for Kaderil the Dark, would mean complete and total isolation for the rest of his immortal existence, for who would welcome the Punisher?

      Fury burned through him, binding his hands into fists. He would not let Zander win.

      Slowly, his fists eased, his heart pumping with cold determination. His mission would be difficult in the extreme. But not impossible. Never impossible. And the ultimate revenge against his conniving foe would be utter and brilliant success.

      Chapter 1

      Washington, D.C.

      Autumn McGinn grimaced with embarrassment as she crawled through the rain-soaked grass, frantically searching for the lighter she’d accidentally sent flying for the third time.

      “You okay, Autumn?” Larsen Hallihan’s voice darted across the rainy Dupont Circle Park, cutting through the gloom. Light poles bordered the concrete circle at the center of the grassy park, illuminating the huge marble chalice that stood in the middle—the beautifully carved fountain that shared real estate with the invisible gate into Esria.

      “I’m fine!” Autumn called back.

      Why couldn’t she have left her inner klutz home just this once? For four months, she’d angled for an invitation to help guard the gate, ever since the first Esri, Baleris, had found his way through. For four weeks, Baleris had terrorized the nation’s capital, raping young women and enchanting armed cops while he tried to destroy the handful of humans immune to his magic. The humans the Esri called Sitheen. In the end, the humans had won. Baleris was dead.

      But the gate remained unsealed. Apparently, it had always been unsealed, but the Esri hadn’t known about it until Baleris had stumbled upon it by accident. Unfortunately, after Baleris died, one of his slaves had escaped back through the gate before they could stop him. Chances were good he’d told others and the Esri would invade again.

      Fortunately, the gate only opened during the midnight hour of a full moon. One hour a month, four humans who could resist the spell of enchantment guarded the Dupont Circle Fountain. That is, they had until this month, when two of the four Sitheen had been called out of town.

      Autumn had been invited to help, finally, though not quite the way she’d wanted. Ordered to stay far back from the fountain, she’d been enlisted as an extra pair of eyes. If one of the creatures came through, her only job was to watch where he went. Not the greatest responsibility in

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