I shivered. Now that we had stopped running around, and were no longer in a warm car, I was starting to get chilled. But like the others, I had a change of clothing at the office. In our line of work, it made good sense.
“I’m going to change.”
“Where’s Herne? We have a client coming in at five-thirty and that’s only an hour away.” She headed back to her desk and I followed her.
“He’ll be back in time. I hope.” I leaned down as she returned to her seat and whispered, “Do you have a tampon?”
“Sister Red hit again, huh?” Angel reached into her desk drawer and handed me two of them. “I need to restock the bathroom tomorrow. Take two.”
“Thanks. Do we have chocolate?” Cramps weren’t the only symptom I was feeling.
“In the break room. Talia brought in a chocolate cake with raspberry filling this afternoon.” Angel leaned back, eyeing me carefully. “So, nobody’s cheering. The stakeout go okay?”
I shook my head. “You’ll hear about it during the meeting. Until then, don’t even get me started. It didn’t go as planned and we’re all going to have our asses in a sling over this one, especially poor Herne.”
Cernunnos and Morgana held their son as accountable as they held us.
“Uh oh. That bad?”
“That bad. Okay, I’m going to go change clothes and wash my face.” I headed toward the back, waving at Talia—our main researcher—as I passed her office. I had hoped we could quit early. I wanted to go home and curl up under a blanket with a bag of chips. But given everything that had shaken down with the priest, and the fact that we had a new client coming in, we were fated to stay through the early evening. With a sigh, I grabbed my spare jeans and sweater and headed into the bathroom before Viktor or Yutani could co-opt it first.
SO, I’M EMBER Kearney. As I said, I’m half Light Fae—Leannan Sidhe to be exact, and half Dark Fae—from the blood of the Autumn’s Bane. And both sides reject me wholly. When I was fifteen, my grandparents killed my mother and father for daring to love one another, and they would have killed me too, if they had gotten the chance.
Earlier in the year, I had been a freelance investigator, putting a stop to sub-Fae who were bothering members of the SubCult. When Angel asked me to find her little brother, DJ, who had disappeared, everything went so far south that it tipped our lives upside down.
I found DJ, all right, but the fallout resulted in both Angel and me being recruited into the Wild Hunt. DJ now lived with a foster family for his safety and his best interests. I had recently bought a house and Angel had moved in with me.
Oh, and Herne? He’s my lover. Loving a god—even a demi-god—is a mixed blessing. Sometimes, I think I’ve landed myself on a slippery slope and I’m not sure where it’s headed. Other days, life seems wonderful. Either way, being Herne’s lover is never boring.
And life as an agent of the Wild Hunt? Well, it’s not a job for the faint-hearted. But I’ve never been one to back down, and as long as I don’t get myself killed, I think it’s one of the best jobs I could ever hope to have.
HERNE RETURNED SHORTLY before we were to meet the new client.
“Damn it, I was hoping to call a meeting now, but…we’ll just have to wait to talk about what my father said until tomorrow morning.” He glowered at Angel.
She plastered on a smile so fake I knew she had to be picking up on his moods. “Would you like me to reschedule the client’s appointment?”
“Now? When she’s due here in ten minutes? I don’t think so,” Herne barked so loud that Angel flinched. He paused, then let out a long sigh. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bite your head off. I just got my ass handed to me on a platter by my father and I’m not exactly happy about it, but that’s no reason for me to take it out on you.”
Angel nodded, accepting his apology. “I’ll buzz you when she gets here.”
Herne motioned to me. “Ember, I want you to sit in, as usual. Yutani, go tell Talia what happened and start researching to see if you can find any clue where Callan disappeared to. My father confirms he’s still in this world, though he can’t pinpoint where he is. Viktor, see to the weapons. Make certain everything is polished and ready to go.” He turned back to Angel. “For now, take names and numbers if any other new clients call, and I’ll see what our caseload looks like. With what happened today, we may be up to our ears trying to mop up this goddamn mess.” He headed into his office.
Angel and I exchanged glances and she mouthed, “Wow, he’s upset.”
I nodded, whispering, “Yeah, and mostly at himself,” before following Herne into his office.
I closed the door behind me, noting that he had changed clothes before returning to the office. I took a seat next to the desk and waited. Herne leaned over my shoulder to plant a light kiss on my cheek.
“I’m sorry for acting like an ass. I can’t believe I let myself fall for that damned priest’s trick. I didn’t think he’d actually put his own ass on the line like that. He had to know it would land him in front of my father, but he went ahead and lied to me anyway.”
“You have to let this go,” I said. “We’ll find Callan. Mistakes happen. Remember, though, the Fae are fanatical in their hatred for the Fomorians. Given what happened with the virus, I don’t blame them for looking for a savior, to be honest. That plague could have killed me, as well. Never, ever discount how deep the hatred between the two factions runs. The giants have been out to eradicate the Fae since time began. I can’t believe I’m defending my people, but there you have it.”
“You’re right. I shouldn’t have let my self-confidence blindside me. I thought the priest would be so anxious to save his butt that he’d give in immediately.” Herne snorted, shoving a file to the side of his desk.
His office was a tangle of plants. The walls were a pale robin’s-egg blue, and the ceiling was white. Herne’s desk sat beneath a massive rack of antlers mounted to the wall. The desk was dark and solid, heavy walnut, with a black leather chair. There were two sets of wingchairs in the room, one pair in front of the desk, and another off to one side. A daybed covered with a plush velvet comforter sat against the wall to one corner, and weapons cases lined the walls with daggers, crossbows, and other weaponry inside.
Herne dropped into his chair and leaned back. “I was so stupid.”
“Will you stop beating yourself up? You got tripped up this time. It happens.” I winced as a cramp hit me, and pressed my hand against my stomach.
“You okay?” Herne asked, noticing.
“Yeah. Just started my period. At least I’m not pregnant.” I laughed, shaking my head. “One thing we have to be thankful for.”
“True.” Herne nodded. “Well, I guess we’d better get ready to meet our new client. I wonder who the cat dragged in this time.”
He rolled his eyes. We had been scraping the bottom of the barrel with the last few clients. Meaning: they had been sloppy, drunk, prone to lying, and one—a sprite with a penchant for chewing snuff—had been married to a goblin. The goblin was female, as far as we could tell, and she had offered herself to Herne as part payment for services rendered. The offer had gone over like a lead balloon, and the sprite had been so offended on his wife’s behalf that he stomped out, refusing to pay anything beyond the retainer even though we had solved his case.
Herne had instituted a new rule at that point—no goblins allowed in the office. Which made sense, given goblins were off-limits within the boundaries of the city.
“She’s here,” Angel’s voice echoed over the intercom.
“Bring her in, please.” Herne straightened up and put on a professional smile. I did the same, tucking in the hem of my sweater.
But when the door opened, we were both in for a shock. Angel escorted our client in, handing Herne a file folder.
One look told me that—whoever she was—she was about as human as me. As she entered the room, I could swear we were facing one of Ante-Fae.
&
nbsp; Chapter 2
ANGEL CLEARED HER throat. “Raven BoneTalker, here to see you.”
I blinked. The woman standing in front of us was breathtaking, although I wasn’t sure if beautiful was the right word to describe her.
On the plump side, Raven BoneTalker was buxom and curvy, with an hourglass figure, and her hair was coffee colored, streaked with plum, but it didn’t look dyed. It flowed down her shoulders in a cascade of waves to her waist. Her eyes were the brown of rich soil, and her skin was pale, almost alabaster. She wore a long black skirt, with a silver overbust corset embellished with black embroidery, and lace-up granny boots. She practically crackled with magic, and I found myself magnetized, unable to look away.
Herne leaned across the desk as she approached and extended his hand. “Welcome to the Wild Hunt, Ms. BoneTalker.” He glanced at the file, then back at the client as Angel withdrew, shutting the door behind her. “Please sit down.”
Raven took the chair nearest me, opposite Herne’s desk. I was sitting to his side, taking my own notes. We had developed the system over the past few months, which allowed me to notice things he might not, and vice versa. He asked for facts, I watched the nuances of body language.
“I’m Herne, and this is Ember Kearney. So, what brings you to the agency? What can we do for you?” Herne sounded unnerved. I wondered if he knew who she was. The Ante-Fae were to the Fae what the titans were to the Greek gods.
She paused for a moment, glancing at me, then back at Herne. I swallowed hard. The energy around her sizzled. If I poked her arm, would I get shocked?
“I have a problem, and I heard that you’re good at solving problems,” she said after a moment. Her voice was low and smooth. She tilted her head to one side, still staring at us.
Herne opened the file and glanced at it. “You’re looking for your fiancé? He’s gone missing?”
“Yes.” She frowned. “Ulstair vanished about ten days ago, maybe a few more. There have been times when he’s been gone this long on business trips, and he’s taken a few road trips with a buddy or two that have lasted this long, but this time, something feels different. I’m worried, and the spirits seem restless. They tell me something’s wrong, but they won’t tell me what. I’ve checked all of his usual haunts, but no one has seen him. And the cops won’t look into it.”
“So you reported it?” I asked.
She nodded. “Yes, I did, three days ago. They let me file a missing person’s report, but they barely paid any attention to what I was saying, and they haven’t come up with anything. I called to ask if they’ve made any progress and they said no, that he’s probably just on an extended trip. For some reason, they’ve been stonewalling me.” The intensity of her eyes shifted, replaced by the look of a worried lover. She suddenly seemed more human.
Herne let out a soft breath. “I’m going to ask you a number of questions and some of them may sound personal. Are you up to answering them, and do you mind if I record your answers? Ember will also be taking notes.”
“That’s fine. Ask away,” she said.
Herne motioned to me and I got ready.
“What’s your fiancé’s name, and is he human or part of the SubCult? We need a description of him.” Herne added, “Also, do you happen to have a picture we can keep?”
Raven opened her purse—a big leather handbag weighed down with studs, chains, and a massive amount of hardware bling—and sorted through it, producing a photograph that looked like it had been printed out from a digital photo.
“Here, this is Ulstair, and it was taken about a month ago, so it’s recent. He’s Dark Fae.” She handed the picture to me. “Ulstair Forrester.”
I glanced at the paper. The man did, indeed, look Fae. He was handsome, with red hair caught back in a ponytail and dancing blue eyes. He was wearing what looked like a V-neck sweater over a pair of jeans, and he was sitting on a large rock, laughing. A bright gold tooth stood out in place of one of his canine teeth. He had a scruff of a beard, and was holding a ferret.
“Is that real gold? And do the two of you live together?” I asked.
Raven shook her head. “Yes it is, and no, we like having our own spaces. We’ve been engaged for about fifty years, but neither one of us is ready to get married yet.” She gave us a little smile. “Ulstair and I both have commitment issues. I did give him a ring about ten years ago, though. So we’re making progress.”
“Who’s the ferret?” I asked.
“That’s Templeton. He’s mine. I have three of them right now.” She sighed, leaning back in the chair. “Honestly, Ulstair never vanishes without a word. Even when he takes off for his business trips, he always calls me while he’s away, and he always lets me know how long he’s going to be gone.”
“What does he do?” Herne asked.
“He’s a software engineer with CTN—CalTecNology. They develop video games. I went over to his apartment to look for a note. His suitcases are still in his closet, and there was a sink full of dishes. Ulstair never leaves a mess. He always cleans up every night. If he left on a trip, he would have taken at least one of his suitcases with him.” She leaned forward, her brow crinkling. “I know something’s happened to him. Can you please find him for me?”
Herne glanced at me, and I nodded.
“We can try,” Herne said. Then, more slowly, he added, “Do you know if Ulstair has any enemies? Anybody who might want to hurt him?”
This was always a sticky question. It usually brought on a shower of tears because when we dealt with most missing-person cases, the person bringing us the case usually hadn’t even considered foul play. They usually assumed there had been an accident, or their partner ran off with somebody else.
Raven slumped back against the chair, then shook her head. “I don’t know. Ulstair never mentioned anybody, if there is. I do know that in the computer industry, there’s a lot of competition. He was good at what he did. There was a lot of nitpicking and infighting at work, from what he said. But he never hinted that it might be anything more than just a bunch of bitch-slapping.”
I saw the tear at the corner of her eye and handed her a box of tissues.
She took one and dabbed the tear away, then gave us a bleak look. “I’ve asked the spirits to help. They whisper that something’s wrong, but their voices aren’t clear to me on this.”
“What do you do? Are you a medium? I can tell… You’re Ante-Fae, aren’t you?” I finally got up the courage to ask. In what little I had to do with the Ante-Fae, they had left me both impressed and intimidated.
“Yes, I’m Ante-Fae. I’m called Raven, the Daughter of Bones, by my own people. I use BoneTalker as a last name, since the current society seems to insist on surnames. My mother is Phasmoria, one of the Bean Sidhe, and my father is Curikan, the Black Dog of Hanging Hills.” She paused, then added, “I’m a bone witch and a necromancer. The spirits whisper their secrets to me, and I work with the magic of the dead.”
I blinked. The Ante-Fae were certainly a tidy group of peculiar mixes.
“Hanging Hills?” I asked.
“In Connecticut. That’s where I was born. I made my way here about a hundred years back and shortly after that, I met Ulstair. I’m a baby, as far as the Ante-Fae are concerned. The Fae, as well. I was born on November 1, 1900. My mother was bringing a death-message to one of the Scottish families in the area when she met my father. He had shifted into his human form, and she didn’t know right away that he was one of the Black Dogs.”
The Black Dogs were a group of Ante-Fae found mostly in the UK—but apparently America, too—who were Dark Fae of dubious natures. They usually carried trouble in on their paws. The Bean Sidhe were harbingers of death. The resulting mix of blood had to be shadowy, at best. No wonder Raven was a bone witch.
“And the spirits won’t tell you what happened?” Herne asked.
Raven shook her head. “No. They talk to me about the troubles of others, but for me…it’s as though I’m b
linded to the knowledge. I’m also a fortune teller and a tarot reader, but I cannot read for myself. I suppose it’s one of the pitfalls of my particular heritage.” She rubbed her forehead. “Do you think you can help?”
“We can certainly try,” Herne said, and I found myself glad he was taking the case. The more Raven talked, the more intrigued I was. Whatever else she might be, I felt she was genuine and sincere. I wondered what Angel had picked up.
“Herne, do you mind if I step out for a moment?” I closed my notepad and set it on the table. I used my tablet for a lot of things, but I preferred taking notes the old-fashioned way.
He shrugged. “That’s fine. I’ll just get some names and addresses from Ms. BoneTalker—”
“Raven, please,” she said.
“Fine, then, I’ll get some information from Raven and send her out to Angel with the invoice.” He motioned for me to leave and I gave him a quiet wink, slipping out the door.
Angel glanced over her shoulder as I approached her desk. “Hey, you guys done?”
“Almost. I came out early. I wanted to ask what you thought of Raven?”
“I actually like her energy,” Angel said. “She’s scary-strong with some shadow stuff, but…it’s clear even though it’s dark, if you know what I mean. Why?”
“Because I feel the same way. I was just curious what you had picked up on her.”
Angel was an excellent judge of character and I trusted her hunches and intuition.
“Is she Dark or Light Fae?”
“Neither. She’s Ante-Fae.” I waited.
One beat. Two beats. And then…
“Ante-Fae? We have one of the Ante-Fae in our office?” Angel’s jaw dropped. She had heard us talking about the Ante-Fae before, especially when we had gone up against Blackthorn, the King of Thorns. But Angel had never met one of them.
“Apparently so. She’s a bone witch, whatever that is.” I paused as the elevator opened and Yutani got off. He had changed and his hair looked freshly washed and braided.
A Shadow of Crows Page 2