He didn't get to her place until after dinner and that was probably a good thing.  He was still angry, though it was fading fast.  Mostly he was still hurt and that surprised him.  He didn't hold grudges or suck on resentments.  Hell, he didn't even suck after dinner mints.  But she'd hurt him.  Hurt him bad enough he'd seriously considered never seeing her again.  If he'd been able to get her out of his head he would have gone that route, but he couldn't. 

So now he was stuck.  He was committed to trusting her when everything said he shouldn't.  She kept whole parts of her life blocked off.  She was unbelievably reckless with her own life and that meant she was pretty reckless with the lives of those around her, though she'd deny it with her dying breath. 

He put his hand on the door to Ariadne's and paused, then he shrugged and pulled it open.  He couldn't get her out of head, and not seeing her made it worse.  At least this way he could keep an eye on her, try to keep her safe while he figured out...Figured out what?  He swore under his breath and jerked the door open.  He needed a drink.

Fiona, dressed in a floor length black dress, long sleeves, high neck, unrelieved with any color, was sitting at the piano over in the corner. She was playing something bluesy, with lots of riffs in it. Sal saw him walk in and reached for McClellans's to pour him a drink.

"Hi," Sal said, glancing over at Fiona who hadn't looked up. "I'm not sure she really believed you were coming."

"She really is an idiot," Cayden said and downed the drink. 

"Maybe," Sal admitted. "Or she's just terrified. You pick."

Cayden poured himself another drink and turned to look at her.  "Terrified of?"

"You."

Cayden turned to stare at him.  "Now why would she be idiotic enough to be terrified of me?"

"Hell, how come I'm supposed to know. Why don't you ask her?" Sal suggested.

Cayden's face hardened.  "You started this conversation, dropping the tasty little tidbit as bait.  So you must have a tasty little theory."

"My own guess," Sal said, leaning comfortably on the bar, "is that she's in love with you and thus feels pretty vulnerable. She's not good at feeling vulnerable."

"Someone should tell her she's not the Lone Ranger," Cayden muttered.  "How long's she been angsting on Billie Holliday?"

"Well, she's been on blues since she got back. Billie for the last, oh, four hours or so."

"Jesus, why didn't you call me?" Cayden demanded as he stood up.

Sal just grinned. "Go say hello."

Cayden didn't even really hear him.  He approached the piano silently, dropped a fifty in the tip jar and waited for her to look up.

When she did, she colored, the blush travelling up her neck to her cheeks. "Hi," she said, her fingers frozen on the keys.

"Stand up," he said, leaning against the baby grand.

She stood up slowly, her chin going up as she met his eyes.

He downed the rest of his scotch, his eyes never leaving hers.  They went wide when he set it back on the piano hard enough that it should have broken making him want to produce an evil laugh just for her benefit.  Then he picked her up in his arms and headed for the elevator, juggling her slightly so he could call it.  When they got to her loft he just waited in stone silence for her to open the door.  At no time since she'd looked up had he let her eyes escape his.

She undid the door without looking away, even if she had to fumble with it a bit.

When he carried her inside she pushed it closed behind them.

He could feel her heart pounding, and she'd gone pale.  He watched as the tip of her tongue came out to moisten her lower lip.  He carried her over to the bed and set her down on it.  Then he stared unbuttoning his shirt.  "If you like that dress you might want to take it off.  Otherwise it'll be in shreds in about sixty seconds."  He dropped the shirt on the floor and started taking off his pants.

She'd been watching him, her eyes wide. It took a second for what he'd said to register. She got up then and began skinning the dress up and over her head. She wore black lace underneath.  She turned to lay the dress on a nearby chair.

His arm was around her waist, pulling her flush against him before she finished.  Her underwear gone by the time his mouth touched her shoulder.  "At first I was  going to put you over my knee and beat you until you couldn't sit for the next fortnight."  He nipped at her shoulder, then soothed the bite with a swirl of his tongue.  "But now I think a more fitting punishment would be somethng more torturous."

She turned in his arms to be facing him fully and lifted her arms up to run both hands through his hair. "That's too bad. Because I just wanted to make love with you."

"Oh you will, angel," he promised, his hands cupping her breasts, rolling the ruched peaks between his fingers.  "And before we're through you're going to be begging...for mercy."

"Is that right," she said softly. "I'll hold you to it."

He didn't answer her.  He was through talking and, quite frankly, he needed his breath for other things.  He showed her instead.

---------------

The smell of coffee woke him. Fiona was in the kitchen area setting out a tray for two cups. She wore his shirt.

She looked around when she felt his eyes on her and smiled. "Good morning. How do you like your coffee?"

"Hot, strong and sweet...the same way I like my women."

"Flatterer," she said but smiled.  She brought the tray to sit on the end of the bed and poured him a cup, adding sugar.  "I'm sorry you worried."

He wasn't going there.  "Was it worth it?  The trip?"

"Yeah. Especially since I was able to avoid the palace. I had to endure my father though. Even so... It looks like I'm not the only one of us being attacked. And apparently I'm number one on the suspect list for creating the conditions that allow these creatures to walk through Shadow, which was a bit of a shock."

"Ok.  And?"

"And my father advises me to fix it.  He seems to think I'm powerful enough to do it."  She frowned. "My grandfather died trying to do the same thing."

"Angel, you're speaking gibberish."

"I know. It understand it seems pretty much like gibberish. But the gist is, there is this primal pattern that holds our worlds together. It can be, and has been once for sure, and I think a second time too, broken by spilling the blood of one of my family onto the pattern. This resulted in what we refer to as the Black Road which allows creatures from otherwise discrete shadows to pass along it and enter other shadows. That much I'd kind of guessed. Although one of us could have been bringing them into this world.

"Anyway, it seems I'm suspect because I've made it clear I don't much give a damn about their little feudal world. So that translates into me actively trying to destroy it, apparently. At least in their minds."

"And?  So?  Now what?"

"So... The only way to fix it is for someone to walk the Pattern and repair it, as my grandfather did."  She paused, watching him. "He managed it the first time, but died in the process of doing it. Well, we think he did. He was pretty sneaky as I understand it, and just because they had a dead body doesn't necessarily mean it was really him."

"My kind of guy," he said.

"Yeah, well... Anyway, my father tells me the king wants me to fix it. He thinks I'm strong enough to do it. He also thinks that's why I have the ring, or why it came to me, is how he put it."

"So you're going back?  To walk the Pattern, whatever that means."

"Yeah, I'm going back. The attacks won't stop until it's done. Problem is, it isn't the primal pattern, but a first degree shadow of the primal one, and well, the trick is in finding it.  The only way I can think that will work, is to find the Black Road and walk it back to its source."

He poured both of them more coffee.  "And where's the Black Road?"

"It cuts through Arden Forest, like the original one did. That's right next to Amber. But if I start walking it there, it will take for bloody ever to find the end. So.. I found a note where I found the ring. It's a spell. I think it will get me closer to the origin of the Black Road."

"A note?"  He sighed.  "Angel, I feel like I'm playing twenty questions.  Help me out here, huh?"

"If I use the spell that's on the note," she explained, "I think it will take me to where the guys who started all this will be. Right into their stronghold. Maybe to the pattern that needs repair, but probably also to where they're most powerful."

"Ah."  It was all he said and it said it all, at least from his point of view.

"Yeah," she agreed. "Ah."  She watched him for a time then added, "Either I give it a shot, or they're gonna come after me, thinking it's me who is trying to bring down Amber. I know that sounds pretty, uhm, meglomaniacal but nearly everyone in the family has tried something as crazy at one time or another to try to get control of Amber. I'm a pretty rare bird, not being interested in the damn place, so naturally they think I'm lying about it."

"Naturally.  So what's the plan?  Though I warn you if it doesn't start with breakfast you're in huge trouble."

"The plan is that you cook breakfast while I shower.  Can you ride?"
 
He looked at her like that was a supremely stupid question.  "Of course."

"Good. One of the things you need to know is that things don't always work in the shadows we'll be traveling through. Like cars, or gunpowder or anything mechanical really. You can't count on them. So it's swords and the original horsepower. And your psi stuff and my magic."

"Just like the old days, then," he said, pulling things out of the refrigerator.  "Go shower."