by C C Solomon
He stopped laughing and glanced over in my direction. For a moment, he looked surprised, then he recovered and winked at me before turning away.
I leaned my head back. Uh, cocky much? I deducted a point from his attractiveness for that.
Lisa leaned in toward me. “You know that hottie?”
“Not a clue who he is. Let’s go to our table.” I didn’t have time to be distracted by pretty faces. I had a throne to secure, and building supporters was the best way to do it.
I made chit chat with the other fae at our table in an attempt to network and make new friends. While smoozing wasn’t my thing, I think I put in a good effort throughout our four-course meal.
Lisa put her hand over her mouth and whispered. “We are back here with all the senior citizens and booger eaters. What did you do to get us back here?”
Bella leaned past me and glared at Lisa. “One, keep your voice down. Some of these older fae have a lot of wisdom they can share with us.”
I glanced at her. “When will that start happening?” The elders were pretty old with white hair and wise eyes. I couldn’t imagine how old a fae had to be to actually well, look old.
Bella ignored me, rightfully so. “Two, I’m pretty sure you offing a fae queen didn’t endear Fran to anyone.”
I practically choked on my fae liquor, a mildly sweet blue concoction that would make any weakling drunk before finishing the first drink. Luckily, I was no weakling.
One of the older fae at our table chuckled, the corners of her blue eyes crinkling even more with her laughter. “It was a fond farewell when she was killed. You’ll get no enemies at this table from her death.”
The other fae nodded in agreement. “We should thank you,” said another male fae with long white hair.
I gave them a grateful smile. Maybe I could boast this angle instead of hiding it. I glanced sideways at Lisa. “This city practically broke out in dance like she just killed Evaline from The Wiz.”
Lisa scrunched her face. “What’s The Wiz?”
I rolled my eyes. “I’ll try not to be upset by that question. It’s the 1970’s more soulful version of The Wizard of Oz. Evaline is the wicked witch and when she gets killed, her peons get out of their ugly suits and high kick it to an amazing song sung by the great Diana Ross, aka Dorothy.”
Lisa gave me a deadpan face. “You remember some ancient movie but can’t remember where you were when the world went to crap ten years ago?”
I raised my glass and sighed. “I know, right? I can remember tons of pointless things but not my own mother’s name or face for that matter.” I gulped down the rest of my drink, trying to wash down the rising anger. I’d always been frustrated by my memory loss, but the rage came whenever I sat too long with my thoughts about how it had happened. To be controlled by the angels in such a way made me feel powerless and weak.
I looked down at my empty glass and swung it around. “I’m going to the bar to get another drink. Be right back.” I rose and walked with purpose to the bar near the right of the room.
When I got to the bar, there was already a line, and I reined in my annoyance. I looked at the other bar not too far down and it was equally busy.
I felt a presence behind me and turned slightly to see the laughing man from earlier. He wiggled a bottle of fae sparkling liquor at me. “Need to be topped off?”
I pushed my glass towards him. “Thank you. Do I know you?”
He concentrated on pouring my drink, but a smile played on his lips. “You seem familiar.” When he was done, he looked up at me with those shocking icy eyes. “I’m Marcus Livingston from King Fredrick’s court of the Northwestern Region. You’re Francesca Ross, right?”
I noticed he had what sounded like an English accent to my limited ears. The fae realm wasn’t as large as the earthly realm. On a map, it would probably cover Europe and Africa, which still made it a considerable size. If he was of the Northwestern region he could be attached to the European Fae. There was a slightly snobbish tone to his accent, as if he were royalty.
Perhaps he was. On closer inspection, Marcus seemed like he came from privilege. He was dressed in human clothes in a maroon, fitted three-piece suit tailored by the gods to cover every muscle of his body in the most flattering of ways. He wore a simple, crisp, white shirt underneath and a silver tie that seemed iridescent. The swirling pastel colors actually appeared to move before my eyes.
Wait. He knew my name? I tilted my head. “How’d you know my name?”
His grin widened and I noticed his incisors were sharper and longer than other fae or humans. I looked down at his hands holding his bottle and cursed myself for only now noticing that he had claws. I wondered if he was using his fae magic to hide his true appearance, well sans claws and teeth. The fae were a very diverse race. Some were as small as your hand, fluttering about like birds. Others were as tall as trees or as wide as a truck. Still others resembled animals but not quite weres, with many tails, horns, and furry ears. Marcus’ incisors and claws let me know he might have another look he was hiding. He probably kept those to intimidate folks.
“You’re associated with the Six, and everyone knows them. And you killed a demon King. That’s not an easy thing to do. I should get your autograph on a napkin.” His voice had a lazy drawl to it that felt like liquid down my spine when coupled with his accent. His voice was indeed a weapon.
I took a sip of my drink. This was not the same as what I’d been drinking earlier but I wasn’t going to complain. “I’m sure my autograph isn’t worth anything.”
He tilted his head, assessing me politely. “Well, a picture together would be even better, but that might be more for personal reasons.”
I kept my eyes neutral. Was this guy flirting with me? Hmm, no, I couldn’t trust anyone here. If he was flirting, it was because he wanted something beyond my body. What was he after? “I feel like I’ve seen you before. Maybe when I was with Alister?”
He squinted his eyes. “Long ago, before this world changed, I knew a girl named Francesca. I called her Franny. We were like twelve when I last saw her. She looked a lot like you. Eyes and everything.” He narrowed his. “That’s a rare combination.”
Was he a clue to my past? “Not for a fae it isn’t.”
“True, but fae weren’t out back then. We were still in secret. Do you still like to race? You were always a runner.” He raised his chin in challenge. “You beat me every time.”
I frowned as a pang of recognition rocked me. An image of two small kids sitting in a stuffy living room surrounded by faceless adults. The female’s face was blurry as well, but the male looked vaguely like Marcus, eyes and all. Then the scene left my mind as soon as it appeared.
Did I know this guy from before? If I didn’t seem like I did, it might give way to the already growing rumors about my memory loss, making me less fit for the throne.
I tapped my chin, pretending to recollect. “Aww, yes, I remember visiting with your family when we were little.” At least I hope that was what I had seen.
His eyes didn’t seem to betray that he knew I was lying. “Yes,” he replied before taking a sip of his drink.
That was it? Damn it. I was hoping he could give me a little more information. Maybe he could help jog my memories back since it seemed we did know each other.
“How’s Ms. Dalia?” he asked.
Who? Of course, I didn’t remember any Dalia. Should I have? Crap, what if she was my mother? What if he knew where my mother was and I didn’t answer right? I had to say something. I gave a tight smile. “Oh, she’s just fine.” Please let that be the right answer.
He cocked a brow. Did I say something wrong? Was this woman really dead and I just failed his test? “I’m surprised she’s not here with you. Actually, I’m shocked you’re even bothering with this throne.”
Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap. How was I going to play this off now? I had no idea what he was talking about. Why wouldn’t I want this throne? What the hell had my life been lik
e before? Why’d I decided to be a stupid hitman for a demon if I was a fae? The only thing the angels had told me was that I hadn’t known I was a demon.
I gave Marcus a crooked grin as my mind raced with some type of fitting lie to come up with. “Well, you know me. I always have to do the opposite of whatever anyone expects of me.” Here’s to hoping the old me was similar to the me of now.
Marcus gave me a hard stare before he snorted in a chuckle. “Well, that’s true. My Franny always had to do things the hard way.”
His Franny. First of all, I hated that nickname. Second of all, what was he talking about his? Had we been close? If we were twelve the last time we’d seen each other, I doubted we’d been dating. Hell, maybe we had been. I decided to let that part go for the time being. It was the least of my concerns in figuring out my past. Why was getting Misandre’s throne the hard way? If there was another kingdom I needed to focus on that would prove easier to rule, I needed to know about it. However, finding out that information without giving away my memory issue would be tricky.
Marcus emptied the rest of his bottle in both our glasses before putting it on the edge of the bar and moving us further away. “You know, Franny, I actually don’t blame you for wanting this throne. You’re like me, a second born.” He took a sip of his drink, assessing me with his eyes.
I tried to keep my face neutral. Was he setting me up? Was it true? I had a sibling? And if I did, why did it matter that I was a younger sibling? What significance would that play?
“What have you been doing with yourself all these years?” He continued. “You just disappeared on us. My family was very disappointed.”
My mind continued to race with questions I could not ask.
“I heard you were engaged to a demon. That seemed so beneath you. I’m glad you came to your senses.” He smiled again and flicked his tongue over one of his incisors as he looked down at me with flirtation in his arctic eyes.
Was that supposed to be sexy? I mean, it kind of was but that wasn’t the point. I needed to get him to tell me more about my past. “Why do you think being with a demon was beneath me, out of curiosity?”
“You’re royalty, of course. Fae’s shouldn’t mix with demons if they plan to get ahead. It brings our value down.”
Royalty? I joked about not being royal before, but clearly I was wrong. I had to know more. Was I descended from a court?
“Well, well, well. If it isn’t the betrayer,” came a nasal voice behind me.
I twisted my lips in annoyance and turned to face the source of the noise—I mean voice. Sylvester.
He glared up at me with those tiny mouse eyes, and I fought the urge to knock him on the head. He was barely five foot three inches and had a bald head and pointed ears slightly longer and sharper at the tip than an elf’s. He wore a gold suit with a silk collared shirt underneath, exposing dark chest hairs.
“Call me what you want, Erik the Gnome. Sticks and stones and all that,” I replied.
He jutted out his chin. “I’m surprised you dared show your face here. There are people here who would have your head for befriending those who killed Misandre.”
I leaned my head toward him. “Here, go ahead and try to get it.” I widened my eyes in my best crazy lady glare.
Marcus chuckled.
Glad I could amuse him.
Sylvester reared back and grimaced. “This is hardly the time or place. This is a classy affair, but I’d hardly expect you to know what that is.”
I looked him up and down. “You’re dressed up like a golden leprechaun, and you talk to me about class?”
He opened an elegant fan in front of his face in one snap. “I’m going to announce those running for the throne. I’m going to make sure no one votes for you.”
Marcus tilted his glass slightly from side to side in front of him, studying the swishing liquid contents. “Oh, Sylvester, why be so cruel? Let’s all be honest with ourselves here. No one loved Misandre. Not even you.”
Sylvester made a noise of protest, but when Marcus met his eyes, the smaller faerie pursed his lips and fanned furiously.
What was that all about? Marcus could be intimidating, but the only other person I’d ever seen this gnome back down to was Misandre.
“No one really liked those first soulmates she aligned herself with either. They were more trouble than they were worth. And we all know why she really followed them. She was planning to run the other courts with whatever backing they promised.” Marcus took a sip of his drink, and we all stared at him for his next words. “Honestly,” he began in his slow drawl, “anyone associated with her should feel uncomfortable. So, you see, you can’t be angry with our Francesca here.”
Our?
“She’s actually quite smart. You might take heed and separate yourself from Misandre’s destructive ways.”
Sylvester sneered, but I could see a slight look of concern in his eyes before he huffed and walked away.
Marcus leaned down toward me.
My body buzzed to attention. Why was I like this around him? Was he using magic on me?
“That was fun.”
I furrowed my brows together. “I can handle his insignificant insults.”
He shifted upright, a lazy smile on his lips. “Oh, I know you can. How about we make an alliance for now. See, I have it on good authority that there are about eight to ten fae vying for the throne, including you, me, and Sylvester. You and I can join forces and slowly take out our competition, metaphorically speaking.”
I cocked a brow. That plan sounded intriguing. Working with him would also give me the chance I needed to see if he could unlock any more of my memories. “And then when it’s down to just the two of us?”
“Well, then we duke it out like any other just with fewer people to bother with, giving us a fifty-fifty shot. And I’ll make you my second in command when I get the throne.”
I snorted. “Cute. I suppose I can do the same for you when I get it.” I pushed out my glass to his. “Clink on it, ally?”
His grin widened before he touched his glass to mine. “I hope to see a lot more of you, Francesca. We have a lot of catching up to do.”
Yes, we did. Maybe having him as an ally would be better than I thought. I could become a fae Queen and learn who I really was. However, I had to be careful. I knew there was more to Marcus and if we hadn’t seen each other in years, I wanted to know why. What kind of danger was he?
Chapter 5
Someone pounded on the door to my apartment in Silver Spring the next evening.
I cracked open my eyes in irritation and looked at the clock. It was after six in the evening. I cursed and sat up in my bed. While I realized that getting up on a Tuesday evening might make me seem a bit loser-like, I had just returned from the fae realm at the crack of dawn. Time worked differently between the human and fae realm. While it seemed like I was just out for a few hours in fae time, I had been gone for nearly a day in human time.
I rubbed my eyes and threw on some jeans before shuffling to the door. I looked through the peephole and found Felix waving at me. I opened the door and waved him in but he remained at the entrance.
I raised a brow. “You can come in.”
He scratched his beard with a frown on his face. “I’d love to, but there’s a certain angel waiting in my apartment who wants to also speak to you.”
“Who? Azrael? They can wait.”
He slowly shook his head, eyes wide.
I already knew by his look who it was. Monica. “Damn it.” I ran a hand through my hair and sighed. “Okay, give me five minutes.” I paused before turning away. I needed to ask this question before I got too sidetracked. “Did you ever hear me mention a Marcus?”
Felix narrowed his eyes. “No. Why?”
I shrugged. “I met him at the banquet and he said he knew me. Of course, I didn’t know from where.”
“Well, don’t give away too much about your situation. You don’t want people taking advantage of it.”
<
br /> “On it.” I walked back to my bathroom, a little pleased at his concern.
He nodded and turned away. I quickly washed my face, brushed my teeth, and put on a bra and t-shirt to go better with my jeans, then trudged downstairs to Felix’s. I knocked on the door before turning the knob and walking in.
A tall, stern-looking woman with a braided bun on the top of her head, a white wrap blouse and gray, wide-legged pants over shinny black heels paced in Felix’s open living area.
Zaphkiel—or Monica—as we knew her. She turned her silver eyes to me and gave a small smile. “So glad you could join us, Francesca. It’s very good seeing you again. How was your trip to the fae realm?”
I rolled my eyes. Damn angels and their all-knowingness. “It was a ball.” I didn’t need this small talk. Monica was my least favorite of the angels I’d met. It was her fault that I didn’t have my memories. I still wasn’t convinced that she couldn’t give them back or that she didn’t know who I used to be.
I flopped down on the couch and laid back. “Why are you here?”
Seeing that small talk was over, Monica walked over to the glass dining table and pulled out a chair before sitting. She crossed one long leg over the other before speaking. “I need the both of you to go on a mission for me.”
That was unlikely to happen. Feeling renewed with my agreement with Marcus, I planned to spend more time in the fae realm making my rounds. Being on the council here was no longer high on my list, and helping the angels was even lower.
“In exchange, I will help you find out more about who you are, Francesca. Felix, I’ll help you find your family.”
Felix sat down beside me, shifting his large body towards Monica who sat adjacent to us. “I thought you couldn’t do any more. It’s been months.”
I knew she’d been lying. “Let me guess. You’ll try a little harder if we work for you. Really, we shouldn’t have to do anything since it was you who wronged us in the first place.”