The Supernaturals of Las Vegas Books 1-4

by Carrie Harris

  He didn’t see anything. So he asked. Citrine rubbed her arms absentmindedly.

  “Just a reaction to the magic,” she said. “It’s strong. Let’s go through and close this thing back up before anything decides to try and check it out.”

  He nodded. “Let me go first.”

  Citrine seemed like she might argue, but then she thought better of it.

  “Makes sense,” she said. “I’ll come through and close it right behind us while you keep watch.”

  As he reached toward the portal, he tried to squash the nerves that rose in his belly. He would be leaving the human world—his world—for the first time ever. If something went wrong, he might never return. The arrangements he’d made with Darius suddenly seemed insufficient, but what else could he do? Everyone he truly cared about was on the other side of that portal, or standing behind him, waiting to cross at his side. He needed to do this. He wouldn’t fail like Mark had.

  He clenched his jaw in determination and strode through the portal with his fists clenched. He would get his people back. If Ben—or anyone else—wanted a fight, let them come. He was ready.

  The realm of Faerie hit him in the face with an almost palpable smack. He emerged into a boggy sort of place that didn’t seem all too unfamiliar except for the neon glow of the moss and the slightly different sounds that the inhabitants made. Instead of the croak of a frog, he heard something off to his left whomp in an astonishing bass. The whistles of birds sang overhead in intricate melodies that he’d never heard from birds before. It was all quite lovely for the first second or two, and then those things were drowned out by a cacophony of images, sounds and smells that made no sense.

  He heard distant singing and what sounded like the clatter of pans on a stone staircase, smelled frying eggs and gasoline, and kept seeing strange flashes of light at the corners of his vision. His head darted this way and that, trying to make sense of them. Was some faerie even now trying to magic him? But there was no illusion to break, because all of the sensations came and went so fast that they were gone by the time he realized they were there. The constant influx was driving him near to distraction. He felt a growl rise in his throat and couldn’t hold it back even though he knew it was in their best interest to keep quiet.

  A soft hand landed on his shoulder, and he whirled around and almost snapped at its owner before he realized it was Citrine.

  “Stay calm,” she said. “It’ll ease up in a moment.”

  Something screamed over her shoulder, and he swiped at it. His skin strained with the need to keep his wolf inside. It wanted out, to hunt the things it could not see. But he couldn’t afford to lose control now, and so he struggled against it.

  Citrine seemed to realize what a difficult time he was having, and she kept her hand on his shoulder, speaking in soft, calming tones.

  “What you’re experiencing is magic echoes. Everyone leaves an echo behind when they use magic. You’ve seen Ben’s—the smell of almonds. But here, everyone uses magic all the time. Why clean your house when you could just create the illusion of cleanliness? Why paint a picture when you can create the illusion of a masterpiece? Very few things here are real, and the air is full of echoes. Even here where the fae rarely come.”

  Derek forced himself to focus on her face. The shocking purple of her bright eyes. The cupid’s bow of her perfect mouth. The slight pain lines at the corners of her mouth. She was beautiful and familiar, and he was beginning to suspect that he was falling in love with her if he wasn’t there already. If he focused on her, he found that the tumult didn’t bother him so much. It wasn’t gone, but his wolf wasn’t straining at the leash either.

  “Better?” she asked.

  He nodded. “I don’t know how you managed to live here without going insane, though. It will get worse as we get closer to the palace?”

  “It will. Although if you get enough of them in one place, they’ll all blend into a constant background hum unless someone uses powerful magic right in front of you. It’s less startling than when they come at you one at a time.”

  “I hope you’re right,” he said, grumbling.

  She nodded, not taking any offense at the comment. Instead, she double checked that the portal was closed and carefully stashed the wand in her belt. They’d both dressed in practical fighting clothes, although Derek fully expected to lose all of his when he shifted. He watched as she looked around, orienting herself. After a moment, she nodded in satisfaction.

  “The castle is this way.”

  She pointed in a direction that looked no different than any others, but he wasn’t going to question her. She knew how important this was, and he didn’t think she’d fake certainty if she didn’t have it.

  “Very well. We go that way, then.”

  He took two soggy, squelching steps in the direction she indicated. “Wait!” she exclaimed as he went for the third, but it was too late. His foot came down on what looked like solid ground but wasn’t. He went down into the water up to his nipples. It was disconcertingly warm, and it fizzed against him like it was carbonated.

  “Derek, it’s a—”

  But he didn’t get a chance to hear what it was, because something grabbed his ankle and pulled him under. Whatever it was, it was strong, with knobby knuckles that bit into his skin. Instead of resisting the grip, he went with it. He felt along the sodden, slick body, knowing that there had to be a head attached to one end or another. Hopefully he’d find it before his air ran out. But his luck held. His groping fingers encountered a nose, and shortly thereafter a mouth. The creature tried to bite his fingers off, but he snatched them away just in time. Then he grabbed the thing by the neck and butted his face right into its nose.

  He felt rather than heard the crunch of bone. The creature went limp in his hands. He kicked for the surface with it still in his hands, but it seemed to be twined in the grip of some incredibly strong reeds and wouldn’t budge. His lungs began to scream with the need for oxygen. He dropped the body with reluctance and swam for what he thought was the top. It felt like he swam forever even though he knew this pool couldn’t possibly be that deep. Dark shadows began to close in on him as his body began to shut down from lack of air. He couldn’t find the surface…

  Citrine’s hand closed on him, yanking him up out of the water with a convulsive jerk. He coughed out a stream of green flowing water, muck running off him and onto the ground. Air. The air tasted so good. Like cotton candy. Literally, for a moment, until the echo faded.

  “Thanks,” he gasped.

  “Are you okay?” She gave him a once over and seemed to answer her own question. “I suppose once you’re ready to go again, I should go first, huh?”

  “I won’t step where you don’t step,” he vowed. “What was that thing?”

  “Bogle. They’re nasty things. But easy to avoid if you know what you’re looking for. I’m sorry I didn’t speak up in time.”

  “No problem,” he wheezed. “I’ll forgive you for a kiss.”

  She leaned down so promptly that it took him by surprise. Her lips were warm and alive, and they fit to his like they were made to go together. He could have kissed her forever, but then an echo passed over him, running cold fingers over the back of his neck and making him shiver. He pulled away regretfully.

  “Let’s go,” she said, standing up and holding her hand out to him.

  Chapter 17

  The closer they got to the palace, the more nervous Citrine got. She tried to hide it. Luckily, Derek was still fairly distracted by all the magic in the air and was struggling to focus. She hadn’t expected that; the constant barrage of input was something she’d been used to. Frankly, Las Vegas had been a bit too quiet at times, and now that she’d seen more of it, she was happy to have come out at the bustling, vibrant Strip, where the constant chaos reminded her a bit of home. Maybe it was more difficult to get used to the noise than the silence had been, or maybe Derek’s animal instincts were making the whole process harder on him than it had
been on her, because he was really struggling. While she hoped he’d get used to it by the time they confronted Ben, it sure had come in handy. He read her all too well considering how long they’d known each other. He would have realized something was wrong and urged her to fess up.

  But she didn’t want to talk about it. She didn’t want to be here. Even the thought of faerie magic made her feel ill, and now it surrounded her, screaming in her ears and prickling her skin. If she could walk away from this place and never have to feel it again, she would be happy. That was the only thing that kept her going. Once this was all over, once the shifterkin were safe and Ben was dead, she could go back to Vegas and break the wand.

  That thought made the slog through the waters of the fens much easier to bear. She’d been out here when she was young. Ilimitaine had offered to take her on a camping trip, and she’d been so excited. So certain that this was a sign that she’d passed all of his tests, and he would finally stop being so hurtful and accept her as his stepdaughter. He’d brought her out here and dumped her into a bogle hole not all that unlike the one that Derek had fallen into. When she managed to crawl out, half drowned and covered in muck, he and his attendants were gone.

  She’d tried to run away, but the bog held many dangers. It was a struggle just to survive, and she got irrevocably lost. When she’d finally emerged from the wetlands only to see the moat instead of open land like she’d hoped, she’d cried. Then it was too late. Although she tried to disappear back into the fens, Ilimitaine’s guards had hunted her down, and then he’d had her whipped for disobedience despite not having given her any orders to begin with.

  It was a long time ago, but the memories haunted her as they drew near the edge of the fens. She could see the tree line where the dense foliage of the marshland gave way to the long open slope down to the moat.

  “Down here,” she said, gesturing to Derek. “We circle around a bit to the waterfall where the fens feed the moat. It’ll be rocky going, but we should be able to pass through undetected.”

  “And then what? We march through the halls of the palace, leaving a trail of water for people to follow? What’s the plan?”

  “We’ll take the servants’ passages. Less chance of being spotted by anyone who can do anything. And…I think we have to go naked. If we can find dry clothes, that’s great, but otherwise we’ll leave less of a trail that way.”

  For the first time since they passed into Faerie, Derek grinned. “I knew this was just an elaborate plan to get me nude.”

  “And you’re protesting?” she asked archly.

  “Hell no.” He gripped at his shirt. “Want me to start now?”

  “Let’s hold off until we’re in the castle.”

  He grumbled but agreed, and she couldn’t help but smile as she moved toward the distant rumble of the waterfall and its rocky descent.

  The waterfall was slow going, slower than she would have liked. She felt very exposed out in the open like that, although she knew the guards were lax in their surveillance. Ilimitaine had made such an example of his enemies—and even of people who weren’t his enemies but had just managed to annoy him—that no one had attacked his lands since Citrine was small, many years ago. In the interval, the guards had gotten lazy and discontent, and the creation of the arena fights had been intended to give them something to do, among other things.

  Besides, Ilimitaine would sense the magic if other fae came to fight him. They all relied on it, and it left them exposed to someone with the guts and the ability to take them on without using any magic at all. No, they wouldn’t see her coming.

  Derek went down the waterfall first, bracing himself on the slippery rocks and holding his hand up to her to assist her down the steepest descents. At first, she turned him down, because of course she had the balance and the nimble footing to do anything he did. But she didn’t have the mass. After she jumped down from one particularly tall boulder, her feet scrabbled for purchase among the swift rushing water. She grabbed onto a handy rock outcropping and managed to keep from being washed down to the bottom. He didn’t say a word, just gave her a pointed look of exasperation. From then on, she took his hand without complaint.

  Once they were into the moat itself, Citrine held a finger up to her mouth to urge for silence. As lazy as the guards might be, they’d hear if someone was splashing right up against the walls. But they had to stay close to the walls to avoid being spotted. Silently, they swam across the still green water and around to the back of the castle. Here, the water gained a brownish cast, with a sick-looking foam floating atop it. Derek inhaled once and began to make muffled retching sounds. Citrine sympathized, but there was no way around it. The only way into the palace from the moat was through the scullery where they threw out the dirty water.

  Although Derek was struggling to keep his gorge down, he had no problem keeping up with her as she made for the shore. They’d lucked out—none of the maids or serving boys were in sight. If she’d timed it right, the entire court was dancing and drinking in the throne room, and after they’d had their fill of that, all of the nobility would retire to the observation platform to watch the gladiators die for their amusement. It was her plan to be in and out before the fight ended. No one would know that they’d been there except for Ben, and she didn’t intend for him to be in a position to tell anyone anything.

  They clamored ashore, putting as much space as possible between them and the putrid water. Derek’s eyes watered from the smell, and the poor guy seemed miserable.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” she whispered. “I thought maybe it would be easier this way, if you weren’t dreading it.”

  “Nothing could have made that easier,” he said. “But no matter. I’m taking off these stinking clothes now. Is this a safe place to leave them?”

  She nodded. “Off to the side here should be good.”

  Quickly, they both doffed all of their clothing, piling it up in a little indentation in the wall where it might escape notice later. Citrine couldn’t help admiring the view. Even streaked with greenish water and brown streaks of refuse, he still looked good enough to eat. She caught him giving her the same kind of once-over, and they exchanged smiles of understanding. Later, those smiles promised. When there was time.

  “Come on,” said Citrine, twisting her sodden hair up into a bun and sticking the wand through it as if it was a hair ornament. It was the only way she could keep her hands free, without pockets or a waistband to tuck it in.

  She led him to the door, opening it cautiously. A single scullion sat slumped in a chair, watching the hearth. Derek held up a finger, then pointed to himself. That was fine with Citrine. If it made him happy to subdue the drab, she would leave him to it. She waited, on the alert, as he snuck through the partially opened door and into the room beyond. As she’d hoped, he seemed much less distracted now that they were in the castle itself, with its constant magical noise running ever-present in the background. He stopped just behind the girl, the light from the fire playing over his muscles.

  The fire popped, startling the girl from her drowse. She half turned, saw Derek, and exclaimed, “What—” But that was as far as she got. His hands closed around her neck, and he squeezed until the strength went out of her legs. Citrine entered, listening for any sign that someone had heard, but no one came. After a moment, she relaxed.

  “Dead?” she asked, looking at the girl.

  He shook his head. “Unconscious. I couldn’t bring myself to kill her. Unless…you think we have to?”

  “We’ll lock her in the cold room. One of the scullions did that to me while I worked here. Jealous, I think. But that didn’t exactly help me when I was shivering in there. No one got me out for two whole days.” She relented under his stricken look. “I’m not saying we should leave her there that long. We can let her out on our way out of the building if you want. Or leave a note. Someone will find her.”

  Reassured, he nodded, picking up the girl. “Where next?”

  “
Into the servant’s tunnels. They run behind the walls of the main rooms so Ilimitaine and his courtiers won’t be sullied by contact with a bunch of servants.” She kept her voice quiet but couldn’t manage to keep the scorn out of it. “As long as we stay away from the throne room and the wine cellar, we shouldn’t run into anyone. And if we do, we need to act quickly. Discovery at this point would be fatal.”

  “I’ve got your back. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  “I know you won’t.” She heard the wonder in her voice. The words tumbled out despite the fact that she knew this wasn’t the place or the time to make this kind of declaration. “Derek, you’re the best man I’ve ever met. The best person. I trust you, and I’ve never trusted anyone before. I know you won’t let me down, and I hope you know the same.”

  He nodded promptly. “Of course I do. It’s one of the many reasons I love you.”

  Her jaw dropped, and after a moment, she smacked him. Not hard. Just a light slap on the face. His eyes widened in shock, and he almost dropped the unconscious girl in his arms.

  “I’m sorry!” he exclaimed. “I thought you know. I thought…maybe you felt the same.”

  “Of course I do, you idiot. But how dare you tell me while we’re covered in garbage, naked, and sneaking into a castle? First of all, there isn’t enough time to jump you, and secondly, it’ll be very awkward to tell this story later. We’re naked and covered in garbage, and you’ve got another woman in your arms.”

  He relaxed, snickering. “I’ll try to have better timing next time.”

  “See that you do,” she replied. “Now come on. Before someone shows up.”

  Derek carried the girl to the cold room, and Citrine locked her inside. Then they moved as one toward the tunnels.

  “Which way?” Derek whispered.

  Citrine didn’t even need to look. She knew these narrow, rough hewn tunnels like the back of her hand. She’d run through them as a servant and been carried through them as a gladiator. A few times, she’d only been able to crawl. You could get anywhere in the castle through them. The dungeons where she’d slept every night for the past fifty years or so. The throne room where Ilimitaine held sway. The scullery. And most important, to the hallway where Ben kept his rooms. That had to be where he was holding Hex and Jenny. He wouldn’t be able to stash them in the dungeon; the presence of two human women would attract attention that he would badly want to avoid. He would have to hide them in his quarters, and she was willing to bet that he was there, watching over his prisoners and waiting for the inevitable moment when she would come to rescue them.