“Hello? Hmm, okay. How long will you be there?” She cast a worried glance at Becka, who was now sitting in the vehicle. “I have to do something, but I can be there in twenty-five. Maybe twenty.” Pause. “Come on, I’m just asking for a few extra minutes.”
“What’s going on?” Becka asked.
“Hold on,” Caeda said into the phone and then held it against her chest, muffling their conversation. “It’s one of my CI’s with a potential lead on Saige. They want to meet right away, but you’re in no condition.”
Becka wouldn’t hear it. “Look, I’ll be fine. You see what you can find out. We need every break we can get right now.”
Caeda’s sour frown wasn’t having it. “I can’t. I’m under orders to not let you leave my sight.”
Touched as she was by Caeda’s willingness to preference her needs over a potential lead, Becka still felt a little annoyed. “I’m in a car fifteen minutes from my house, Caeda. I can handle a car ride on my own. Besides, Andre is still at the townhome, right?”
“Yeah, he is. But a lot can happen in a car ride.”
Becka crossed her arms, readying herself for a fight. She respected Caeda, but surely this situation called for an exception? “I don’t want you to miss your shot at the CI’s lead. I’ve got my phone on me and these units are all tracked. Can’t you authorize a preset destination or something?”
Caeda arched a brow. “Yeah, I can use my enforcer creds to lock in the destination. But Becka, if anything happens, Quinn will hang me up by my toes.”
Becka threw her hands in the air, frustrated by the rigidity of enforcer protocols. “We can explain it to him together. These are special circumstances. You can track my route all the way there and Andre can call you when I’m safe in the house. I don’t want you to miss out on a lead to find Saige because I have a headache.”
Even as the words were out of her mouth, Becka envisioned the brooding look on Quinn’s face when he inevitably discovered she’d gone home alone. He had a way of castigating her with a twist of his lips and a raised brow alone. Or would his hands grasp the air as he listened, like he wanted to grab and shake some reason into her? Or, afraid for her wellbeing, claim a kiss from her lips?
Whatever his reaction, surely it wouldn’t be as bad to deal with as the throbbing pain in her head right now.
A loud sound came from Caeda’s phone, and she put it back to her ear. “Yeah, I heard you.” Her shoulders shrugged as she whispered to herself, “I’m gonna regret this…” Then louder, Caeda said into the phone, “I’ll be there in five. Okay? Yeah, yeah, okay!”
Caeda popped her head into the car, reaching in front of Becka to key commands into the console. “The route’s locked in. If there’s an emergency the car will signal for nearby enforcers, but I expect you to call me.”
“Locked and loaded, got it,” Becka replied.
“I’ll come by the townhome when I’m done. Don’t get into any trouble.”
Caeda closed the door, the locked engaged, and then the vehicle pulled away, sliding gently into traffic. Becka rotated her chair towards the back and angled it into a reclined position, eager to close her eyes.
Just as Becka was settling in, the sound of a throat clearing jolted her into instant alert. When she opened her eyes, she discovered Mimir sitting in the back row of seats staring back at her.
Her thoughts jammed like a flood through an ice-bound river. How was she here? Was it another projection, like she’d done back at House Apple’s cabin? But… how? How could she project into a moving car? How long would it last? And what abilities did Mimir have in this state?
Aware she was still lying down, Becka frantically pushed the button to make her seat return to normal. Not that sitting up would give enough space between them for Becka to feel less panicked and calm her racing heart. In fact, the pounding pain in her head escalated with her return to upright.
Mimir’s blood-red lips curved into a cruel smile. Dressed in a delicately feminine tailored cream-colored suit, she crossed her legs, showing off an emerald green, impossibly high heel as she stretched her arms out across the seat back. She exuded confidence, completely at ease as she owned the length of the vehicle’s rear seat.
“Dearest Becka. You’re not even going to say hello?”
An image of Quinn’s glowering frown filled Becka’s thoughts, as did Caeda’s warning to stay out of trouble. A fine sheen of sweat erupted from her pores, causing a chill to run down her back. She certainly knew how to upset everyone at once, didn’t she?
“Hello, Mimir,” Becka finally answered. “How are you here?”
Mimir’s smile widened like a cat who’d finished all the cream, causing Becka’s adrenaline to surge again. “A smidge of Rowan’s illusion, a sprinkle of Alder’s elemental air, a pinch of Yew’s visions, and Ivy’s binding magic to seal them all together. Mostly.”
Her description was a blatant reminder to Becka of Mimir’s Shadow-Dweller magic-stealing ways. Fae normally had to team up and collaborate with others to make items with multiple magics. Shadow-Dwellers could do it by themselves only because they’d stolen others’ magic. A wave of revulsion rolled over her, followed by a slinking terror, knowing Mimir sought her Null power. She hoped Mimir’s form was merely a projection, like the time they’d spoken near the river by the House Apple cabin. Even so, Mimir was no less terrifying than she was in person.
“But if you mean how did I know you’d be here now? Well, I make it my business to know everything there is to know about you.” Mimir leaned forward, elbow perched across her knee. “You should know by now, Becka, you’re quite special to me.”
Becka opened her mouth to speak, but no words came. Knowing this psychopath thought of her as “special” was the anxiety-ridden gift that kept on giving. Special like a favorite pet? Like an anticipated gourmet meal? Or like a priceless artifact you keep locked up or on display?
Becka could tell her imagination was running away with her, but she couldn’t help herself. Unexpectedly having to withstand Mimir’s predatory gaze had shaken her and muddled her thoughts, but she absolutely had to rally. The fight with Mimir hadn’t truly yet begun.
“Oh, I can see you aren’t impressed. A pity.” Mimir frowned. “You have yet to respond to my most gracious invitations.”
Remembering the last one, a message on Alvilda’s dead body, Becka let her anger bleed into her words. “I can’t say they’re been gracious. Repellent, maybe?”
Amusement sparkled in Mimir’s eyes. “Then I’ll have to up my game.” As she spoke, the surrounding space shifted and changed.
Now, instead of appearing to sit in the car's rear, Mimir sat on a plush black leather couch in an opulent den surrounded by crimson velvet drapes, intricate throw carpets, and exposed brick walls. The illusion expanded, nearing Becka’s feet and occluding the windows in the rear of the vehicle. Becka looked out the front window of the car, comforted by the vehicle continuing along the route she expected. But when she turned back towards Mimir, the illusion of having stepped into Mimir’s swanky den was almost perfect.
Surely Mimir would disappear when they reached Becka’s townhome? If so, she just had to keep it together for another ten minutes. Instead of letting her mind run wild, Becka resolved to use this as an opportunity to dig for information despite the pain of her throbbing head muddling her mind.
“Am I supposed to be impressed?” Becka asked.
Mimir just smiled. “Let’s get down to discussing the terms of your surrender.”
Becka’s jaw dropped. “What? No. Giving myself up is not appealing at all.” But she couldn’t deny how her thoughts had strayed to this eventuality so many times since Luce’s death. It was a thought she entertained not only daily, but hourly.
How many more would perish to protect Becka and her Null gift? More importantly, how many more could she live with?
The granite edge in Mimir’s gaze didn’t falter. “A gem such as yourself belongs with us.”
Mimir�
��s proprietary attitude fueled her irritation, but she needed information, not a fight. “Flattery won’t convince me, Mimir. What do you think you have to offer me?”
Mimir’s brows rose a fraction, her smile finally reaching her eyes. “We’re at the negotiating phase?”
Becka shrugged. “I’m curious why you think I’d willingly sacrifice myself on your altar of need?”
“All your life, haven’t you been asked to sacrifice yourself for the greater good of all fae-touched?”
Mimir’s words hit home. When Becka was sixteen and found ungifted, she’d been sent to live with Lydia in the city for “the greater good” of House Rowan. When her sister Tesse had died, she’d gone back to mourn in part because of fae social expectations. When they discovered Becka did indeed have a gift after all, she was compelled to rejoin House Rowan for the greater good then too.
In Becka’s experience, the greater good was a phrase people used to run roughshod over your dreams and aspirations, replacing them with their own. Mimir had definitely done her homework on Becka, no doubt counting on the emotion to inflame her temper, and it had worked.
Becka took a deep breath, trying to let go of the anger Mimir had invoked. She reminded herself that she was her own person, building her own life. She was older and wiser than she was a year ago. Becka had the mantle of heir to House Rowan now, but she was still back in the city, carving out her future. A future that most definitely included Quinn. A future where Becka defined how she contributed to the world, learning to work around the confines others set upon her.
“That’s the case for all fae. We have to stick together since our losses during the Great War, lest we diminish,” Becka replied. Memories of the blank pages in the story of the Great War flashed through her mind. Why those maps? Why those signatures? Why hide anything?
What of the old stories could she trust when so much was missing? How much of what she’d studied about the Great War was truth? Sure, the victors always rewrote history in their favor, but this was on another level. It was as if someone was continuing to rewrite history. But why, and to what end?
It was a question for another time. A time when she wasn’t facing down a Shadow-Dweller queenpin.
“Well, aren’t you good at parroting the party line,” Mimir replied. “Yet even as we fae have stuck together, we have diminished. Despite arranged marriages forcing deliberative breeding, each generation is progressively less potent. As our fae genes get diluted, so does our power. House Yew was renowned for their magic and inbreeding, and yet they are gone, massacred not long after the Great War. The method they sold us on has been ineffective at restoring our powers to the heights we only remember from antiquity.”
Becka couldn’t argue that logic, or perhaps the pounding in her temples kept her from figuring it out? But it was a truth that she’d observed herself over the years, even though she hadn’t articulated aloud her unspoken questions over why fae powers had diminished. It was something which no one spoke of, as if admitting it might hasten their fading abilities.
She sensed this was the heart of Mimir’s driving force. It was something she needed to understand if they were to defend themselves from the Shadow-Dwellers’ aims.
“Perhaps the fae who sired our lineages never intended for their fae-touched progeny to remain so powerful?” Becka mused.
Mimir sneered. “I believe the ancient fae had no plan beyond leaving a lasting mark on humanity as they retreated into their own lands, untouchable by us forevermore. Be assured, the Ancients are long gone, and we are nothing more but a far-flung memory to them. Our fate is ours alone to determine, and we Shadow-Dwellers are determined to steer all of us out of the graveyard of history.”
“Yet you feed off the very fae whose legacy you wish to endure, culling our numbers to feed your need for power?” Becka asked, the words shooting out like bullets fueled by her anger.
Mimir’s lip curled up and her brow arched, as if with surprise. Did she think Becka wouldn’t have already understood the mechanics of her plan? “Perhaps you are not yet ready to understand the full vision of grandeur we’re working towards. The Shadow-Dwellers have been working for a very long time to guarantee the future of all fae.”
“I don’t understand how killing fae will do that,” Becka pressed.
“We have been acting behind the scenes for some time.” Mimir pursed her lips thoughtfully before continuing. “Tell me, was your viewing of The Great War illuminating?”
“I…” Becka began. Did she know about the blank pages? If so, how? Were the Shadow-Dwellers somehow responsible for the missing pages? Had they tampered with the book, or rewritten it? If only her head wasn’t hurting, she was sure this conversation would make more sense.
A smile grew across Mimir’s face as Becka considered her response.
For some reason, Becka didn’t want Mimir to know that she’d seen through the missing elements of the book. “I suppose it disappointed me. I’d expected to learn something new, not just what I’d read in copies.”
“I’ll hazard a guess that you did learn something new, even if you don’t yet know what to make of it,” Mimir replied. “Perhaps you gained some clarity on maps which, in reproductions, were too muddy to make out? Or maybe you noticed a lack of content in key sections? Or that section that you’ve never seen in any of the copies?”
A missing section? Okay, so Mimir definitely knew about the alterations to the book. But did she know how it got that way? Or who did it? Or, most importantly, what it meant?
Becka rubbed her neck, trying to ease the ache. “I know more than you think,” she bluffed. “But why now? Why emerge from the proverbial shadows after all this time?”
“Oh, that’s easy, my dear. Your arrival heralds an ancient prophecy of ours. We are to remain in the shadows no more,” Mimir announced, her expression grave.
Becka let out a reflexive, nervous laugh, but Mimir’s face remained grim.
“So prophecy, then.” Becka took a deep breath, aiming to take Mimir seriously. “So, funny story, I found a book on fae prophecy back at House Rowan named Tales of Futures Past. It was kept with the children’s books, and read like a series of fables or nursery rhymes.”
Mimir’s face lit up, an unbalanced gleam in her eyes. “So you’re familiar with the codex?”
“Uh, yeah. I mean I read it. What do you interpret that it’s directing you to do?”
Mimir’s self-satisfied smile crept back. “Me? Nothing at all.”
Becka felt those words hit her solar plexus. “So, who?”
“You, of course, will assume your place in history when you join ranks with the Shadow-Dwellers.”
Becka sneered at the suggestion. “You know I’ll never join you.”
But then, what could she do if she did? What did it even mean to be a Shadow-Dweller, beyond the hunger for power and the underground empire building? What were they after?
Mimir shrugged. “It is foretold.”
Like she needed another outside force directing her life? No, thank you! “And I can foretell you to eat rocks and it won’t happen either.”
Mimir laughed. “You have the gift of prophecy?”
“You know I don’t. House Yew had the Guild of Visions, but that was lost to the fae when they passed from our world. All of their writings were destroyed.” Or so she’d been taught. What if that wasn’t true? “Prophecy is bunk,” Becka added, placing a heavy emphasis on the bunk.
But what if it wasn’t? She needed to pick up a copy of that children’s book again, now that she knew its importance to the Shadow-Dwellers.
“Prophecy doesn’t require your belief, only my patience.”
“Or what?” Becka snapped back before catching herself, the pain making it hard to control her responses. She needed information, not a pissed-off Shadow-Dweller.
Mimir drew herself up, adjusting herself on the couch. “If you refuse, there will be consequences. The longer you deny your destiny, the longer your friends, your family
, your coworkers, and those closest to you will be at risk.”
She’d forgotten herself and how dangerous Mimir was. “Do not threaten my friends, Mimir.”
“Or, what?” Mimir threw back at her. “Oh, I must ask, have you located your friend Saige Sawatch yet?”
Becka’s heart skipped a beat as fear sent a spike of adrenaline shooting through her. She took Mimir’s mention of Saige as a threat. Did she have Saige? Had she already hurt Saige? Would this conversation seal Saige’s fate?
She had to do something. But what? Could she reason with this insane woman? Threaten her back? Coerce her with offers to comply?
Mimir looked around, and then her gaze settled back on Becka. “As lovely as it’s been chatting with you, I’m afraid our conversation nears its end.”
“Wait, please,” Becka said, suddenly anxious over the lack of time remaining in their conversation. She needed more time! “How do I find Saige?”
Mimir shook her head. “I can’t help you with that, Becka. But, when you are ready to accept your fate, the way to us will be shown to you.”
Becka blinked her eyes, and the illusion was gone. Mimir. Her den. All of it. The sudden shift shook her, and panic set in over Mimir’s refusal to help her find Saige. She had to come up with a way to force Mimir’s hand. Then the vehicle pulled to a stop in front of her townhome, the doors unlocking on cue, spurring her into movement.
It was clear Mimir knew where she lived, the details of her schedule, and when she was alone. Would the Shadow-Dweller be able to contact her at her whim? At any time? And how was she doing it?
Could she get Mimir to meet with her like this again, to give her another chance to plead for Saige’s life?
Pulling herself together, Becka spun her seat back around, grabbed her backpack, and left the vehicle. Andre stood on the curb, his furrowed brow and frown deepening as he looked her over.
“Caeda said you weren’t feeling well, but you look like you’ve been dragged through it and are shocked you made it out the other side,” Andre said.
“A weird visual, but not inaccurate,” Becka replied, walking up to the front door of her townhome. “I’m going to take a nap until Caeda gets here.”
Shadow Underground: A Romantic Urban Fantasy Murder Mystery (The Shadow Series Book 3) Page 11