Agent of Darkness (Dark Fae FBI Book 3)

by C. N. Crawford

  Elrine smiled, casually sliding her arm around Roan’s shoulders. “Good. That’s where you should go first.”

  Branwen was glaring at Elrine, gritting her teeth angrily. Christ, the drama between these fae was distracting as hell.

  I blinked, clearing my mind. “Not necessarily. This room here” —I pointed at the one labeled study— “has a desk with a bunch of drawers. It’s littered with papers. Also, on one of the walls, there’s a safe. If it’s information about the spy you’re looking for, this might be the best place to find it.”

  Interest sparked in Branwen’s dark eyes. “What kind of safe?”

  “It looks old and silver, with a dial.”

  She gripped my arm. “Describe it in detail.”

  “I can do better than that.” I took out a hand mirror, letting my mind click with the reflection. It only took a few seconds for me to find the study, and to bring up the image of the room. I handed the compact mirror to Branwen.

  She licked her lips. “Beautiful. I can crack it.”

  “Are you sure?” Roan asked.

  “Branwen can crack any safe,” Nerius said. It was the first time I’d heard him say anything nice, and the way he looked at his sister just then heightened my opinion of him.

  She cocked her head. “Not any safe. But I can crack this one. It’s fae-made, and I know just how it works.”

  “And Lord Balor?” asked Roan.

  I shook my head. “If he’s in there, he’s probably behind that locked door. The room with no reflections.”

  “Okay.” Roan folded his arms. “But there’s still just one entrance. So how do we get in there?”

  “You don’t.” I shoved the mirror back in my bag. “I do.”

  Chapter 14

  If I had a quarter for every displeased frown around me, I would have been a dollar and twenty-five cents richer just then.

  I cocked a hip. “It’ll be fine. I can sneak in through the reflection to the study. I can search the desk, get whatever looks important from there.”

  “And the safe?” asked Elrine.

  “Maybe the combination is written down somewhere,” I said, though I was doubtful. “And if not, I’m sure I can get something useful in there. We might learn something about your spy.”

  Abellio’s blue eyes bored into me. “I don’t like this idea. It’s too dangerous for you to go alone.”

  I shook my head. “You forget how easy it is for me to escape. I know where all the reflections are. I go in with hand mirrors on me.”

  Roan frowned. “Once you’re away from my side, your feelings would be a beacon for any fae in the vicinity. They’d storm inside and grab you.”

  “We’ve done it before,” I said. “The study is far away from the crowded rooms. I’ll keep my feelings in check, and if I hear anything, I’m gone.”

  Elrine’s forehead crinkled. “No offense, Cassandra, but you haven’t convinced us you’re capable of something like this. And back in the alley, I wasn’t impressed by your ability to contain your emotions.”

  Nerius rubbed his stubbled chin. “And if there’s nothing useful in the desk? You’ll return with nothing but a surplus of stationary. The Arawn fae in the complex would discover the break-in, and tighten security. We’d never get a chance to do this again.”

  “We could storm the complex,” Roan said thoughtfully. “I could connect with another cell.”

  I shook my head. “If these guys are good, they’ll have a plan for an assault on their complex. At the very least, they’d probably destroy any useful information before we got our hands on it. That whole study would go up in flames.”

  Nerius waved a dismissive hand. “They’d never expect a powerful frontal attack. We can take control of the complex before they even consider—”

  “I’m not just a pretty face,” I said coldly. “I am… I used to be an FBI agent. There’s always a process for eliminating confidential information. We’d lose the intel. If you have a spy, you’ll never find out his name.”

  Abellio shrugged. “Then we take this complex by force and deal a terrible blow to the king’s forces. Isn’t that enough?”

  “No,” Roan said. “That’s not why we’re here.”

  Branwen raised a hand. “I can get inside to help her.” Four frowning fae turned their glares on her. She looked at Roan. “You know I can.”

  “How?” I asked.

  For a moment, silence reigned. I quickly scanned their faces and saw that Elrine and Abellio were as confounded as I was. Nerius’s eyes were wide, his lips a tight line, as if he were silently trying to warn her to shut up.

  Branwen looked at the ground, her dark hair falling in front of her eyes, as if she were ashamed. “I can take control of her shadow.”

  Elrine’s breath hitched. Abellio’s face twisted for a moment in disgust.

  “Shadow magic.” Elrine spat the phrase.

  Branwen’s cheeks reddened. She gritted her teeth and leveled her cold gaze on Elrine. “I didn’t go looking for it. I was born this way. I didn’t want to be a shade. No one does. And you know what? It’s actually useful sometimes.”

  “What does this mean?” I asked, frustrated. I wished there was a “Fae Culture 101” course I could take online.

  Abellio was staring at her, his face still shocked. “Shades steal other people’s shadows. Without their shadow, a person can slowly wither and die. It takes years, but it always ends the same way. This magic was outlawed over seven hundred years ago.”

  Branwen met my gaze, shrugging slightly. “Nobility don’t have this kind of magic. They never did. It’s gutter magic.” She grimaced. “Of course, no one outlaws mind-fogging, or water control, or any of the other deadly magic that the nobility have. Just gutter magic.”

  I bit my lip. “I see. And are you suggesting that you steal my shadow? I don’t understand.”

  “I don’t do that!” Branwen said, her dark eyes shining. She blinked, as if trying to clear the tears from her eyes. “I mean, I’ll give it back as soon as you return. You’ll never even feel it.”

  Nerius’s expression had darkened. “She never used it to hurt anyone.”

  Silence fell over us.

  Roan rubbed his chin. “I think it can help with the safe, and of course I trust Branwen. But the banshees will still feel Cassandra’s emotions.”

  As we stood by the side of the church, my gaze drifted to a small crowd of mourners approaching the church, dressed in black—an older woman with a wide-brimmed black hat and a veil, sniffling into a handkerchief, and two men in dark suits flanking her. A few more trailed behind, not noticing us with the magical camouflage Roan had drawn up around us.

  Camouflage. Right. “What if I could camouflage my emotions?”

  “How?” asked Roan.

  I nodded at another small group of funeral goers, approaching the church. “There’s a funeral taking place right now in the church. It’s the House of Sorrow down there, right? I’m betting they set up shop here centuries ago so they could feed on grief.”

  Branwen cocked her head. “That, and this was once a leper colony. Hence the charming name Cripplegate. Lots of grief around here in the old days.”

  I nodded at the church. “Still is right now. So what if my sorrow allows me to blend in? Lord knows I have plenty of that. They might not notice me.”

  Elrine blew a strand of her cherry-red hair from her eyes. “It’s a good idea. I doubt they’d be able to find Cassandra’s sorrow in the torrent of sadness from above. Worst case scenario, they’d think there’s a pixie among the mourners. This will work.”

  I nodded. “Good. I’ll sneak in through the reflection into the study. Once I’m there, Branwen can take control of my shadow.”

  She held up a hand. “I’ll need you to find a way to cast it so it’s about your size. If it’s too large, or too small, I’ll have an awkward time helping out.”

  “Okay,” I said. “I’ll be back here as soon as I find something. Or if anyone comes after me.
”

  “What about the locked door?” Elrine pointed at the map. “Will you look for Lord Balor?”

  Sunlight sparked in Roan’s eyes. “That seems too dangerous.”

  Shadows seemed to pool around Nerius. “What is the point of having this pixie with us, slowing us down and attracting attention, if she’s incapable of doing anything useful because you’re afraid she might break? You’ve suddenly got a weak—”

  “It’s fine,” I said, cutting off his monologue. “I can do it.”

  “Are you sure?” asked Roan.

  I sucked in a sharp breath. I had to find out what the ‘Mistress of Dread’ was all about. “Yes. I’ve got my reflections, and I’ve got my escape routes. It’s worth a shot, at least.”

  “Fine,” said Roan. “I trust you.”

  “Let’s do this.” I pulled out the compact mirror, opening it up.

  “Wait!” Branwen bit her lower lip. “I can, uh… only control shadows of people I know well.”

  I blinked. “So… what, do you want me to tell you my life story?”

  Nerius was shielding his eyes with his hand, as if he was mortified.

  “No.” She straightened. “I mean I need to know you intimately.”

  My cheeks warmed. “You mean we need to… what, exactly?”

  With a shy smile, she beckoned me closer, her dark hair tumbling over her red gown. “Just a kiss.”

  “With a fortal,” said Nerius vehemently, turning the other way.

  I took a deep breath. Okay. Well, I’d never kissed a girl before, but she was certainly beautiful.

  I moved closer, standing just a few inches from her, looking into her dark, almond-shaped eyes. She smelled of wildflowers. She reached for me, cupping my face, then pressed her soft lips against mine. My skin began to warm, my nipples tingling, brushing against her breasts. I felt her pull me in closer, one hand around the small of my back, and her tongue gently parting my lips. My back arched, and she let out a low moan—

  Roan growled, cutting it short, and her body stiffened. I pulled away from her, shooting a mortified look at Roan. He knew exactly how much I’d enjoyed that.

  I cleared my throat, staring at the ground. “So is that… good? Are we good?”

  Branwen nodded, a little too eagerly. “That should do it.”

  My head buzzed and I felt slightly dizzy. I cleared my throat. “Okay. Good enough?”

  Roan looked down at me and pulled a stray strand of hair from my face. Flecks of gold shone in his eyes. “Master your emotions before you go in there. You need to feel sorrow only. And right now, I can feel something else altogether.”

  Mortifying.

  “Wait.” Branwen reached under her dress, and pulled out a stiletto knife from a sheath strapped to her thigh. “Put this in your purse.”

  “Thanks.” I dropped it in my bag, then closed my eyes, summoning the glaciers, the impenetrable wall of ice.

  Then I pulled out my compact mirror and stared at it, scanning the reflections until I found the study. I let myself fall into the mirror, feeling its cool surface wash over my skin in icy, liquid waves, and I tumbled into the study.

  In the stony room, the air was colder and stuffier, the room lit only by a dim lantern. Pale orange light wavered over the paper-strewn desk, and the silver safe which was tucked neatly into a stone alcove that looked as if it had been carved for a statue. As I scanned the room, my eyes lingered over a set of shelves lined with what appeared to be human skulls.

  I felt a twinge of claustrophobia, realizing that I was deep underground. I pushed that dangerous spark of fear under the surface of my mind. I couldn’t afford to feel fear at the moment.

  What would Gabriel think if he could see me now? I felt a burning desire to talk to him one last time. Once this was over, I’d go to his grave. Since magic was real, surely I should be able to speak to the dead.

  Sorrow. I let it wash over me, thinking of Gabriel’s hazel eyes. I crossed into the center of the room, standing in front of the lantern until my shadow spread out over the floor, stopping when it was about my height. When I went still, I stared as my shadow quirked its head and moved its hands.

  Branwen seemed to be testing it out, moving the fingers and arms. The shadow then lifted its left foot and detached from my body. I shivered at the strangeness of it.

  My shadow instantly turned to look at me, and I could almost feel its reproachful stare.

  Right. Sorrow. Not fear.

  I summoned the image of Gabriel again, letting the sadness consume my mind. I stared as my shadow skulked over to the above, creeping up the stone wall. The dark figure began fiddling with the safe, turning the lock. I looked away, the sight too confusing and distracting. I had to search the desk, anyway.

  As I suspected, the papers scattered haphazardly on the desk were written in the fae language, Trinovantum-lish or whatever they called the strange runes that I still didn’t know how to read.

  I pulled out my cell phone and began snapping photos of the papers, thinking of Gabriel the entire time—his tidy apartment, the delicious meals he’d cooked. His old jazz band.

  At one point a tear dropped on one of the papers, spattering on the ink. I wiped my cheeks, realizing that both were wet. Maybe I needed to rein in my sorrow just a tad. It was slowing me down, and I felt like total despair was fast on its heels.

  There were about thirty or forty pages on the desk. I’d photographed about half when I suddenly heard a deep voice penetrating the door, slowly growing louder as someone approached. My shadow turned its head as if to look at me. The door handle turned, and my heart thundered.

  I quickly raised my phone to my eyes, shutting off the screen. My face appeared in the darkened glass screen, and I jumped into the reflection.

  I flickered into an empty bedroom, my heart beating wildly, and forced myself to calm. Quickly, I turned to stare at the mirror, and began searching for the study. It appeared on the glass.

  My phone lay discarded on the floor by the desk, full of the photos I’d just taken. I stared at it aghast, and then realized I had used it to jump, leaving it behind. Stupid! I scanned the rest of the reflection. I couldn’t see a sign of my shadow.

  Two male fae dressed in gray robes stood by the door, their voices muted through the reflection. One had scraggly, black hair that fell over his shoulders, and the other was white-blond, closely cropped.

  The blond crossed to face the desk, and my heart gave a small jolt as he walked toward it. Would he notice the phone?

  Frowning, the dark-haired fae suddenly turned his head as if sensing something. My own fear, I realized. He felt my fear. I quickly shut it away, focusing on Gabriel—his tidy apartment, now left empty.

  The blond snatched a paper of the desk and turned away, joining his friend. At last, the two fae crossed out of the room, shutting the door behind them.

  Steeling myself, I let out a small breath and jumped back into the study.

  Once in the room, I turned around, looking for the shadow. It shimmered out from the desk’s shadow, where Branwen had hidden it. I gave it a shaky half-smile. It turned back to the safe, and I crouched down, snatching the phone off the floor.

  After five more minutes, I’d managed to snap a photo of every paper on the desk, and I looked up at my shadow. The figure hardly moved, its head against the safe, hand slowly turning the dial. I crouched, slowly pulling open one of the drawers. In the drawer, I found a stack of plain paper, three fountain pens, and a few candles.

  In the third drawer, amidst some tiny bottles of dark ink, I spotted a keyring with four keys. Bingo. Quietly, I pocketed them.

  A creaking noise pierced the silence, and I looked up to find my shadow slowly opening the safe. I hurried, peering over the shadow at the safe’s interior.

  Three rolled parchments lay inside, two sealed with red wax, the other with a broken seal.

  I quickly dropped them into my handbag, and the shadow gently closed the safe’s door. It nodded at me once, the
n crawled back to me, its feet merging with mine.

  A light tingle rippled over my skin, and my shadow was mine again. And now, maybe we could find what the Mistress of Dread was all about.

  I pulled out a compact mirror, merged with it, and leapt into the icy reflection.

  Chapter 15

  Up close, the locked door seemed even more formidable than it had before, its spiked surface bathed in torchlight. It was built of solid oak and wide metal strips held it in place. The door fitted tightly to the doorway, with no cracks giving a view of the room on the opposite side. An old, rusted padlock held the door closed. I brought up the keyring I had found in the study, and jammed the old keys into the lock. The third key twisted, and it clicked open.

  Carefully, I pulled the bar from the metal slots, resting it on the floor. Then, I slowly pulled open the door, cringing as it creaked, revealing a darkened room. The first thing I noticed was the sharp scent of death, warning me away. Another crypt, perhaps?

  Only the torchlight in the hallway behind me cast any light, framing my shadow on the dank stone floor. I shut the door carefully behind me, then pulled out my keyring flashlight, clicking the light on.

  Tiptoeing, I crossed into the stuffy chamber, straining my eyes in the dim light. I could just about make out furniture covered in white cloth. Something about this room raised the hair on the back of my neck.

  I moved the thin beam of light around, quickly establishing that I’d come through the only door. If anyone entered here, it would be from the same door. Given how loudly it had creaked, I didn’t worry about anyone sneaking up unannounced.

  I frowned at the empty room, a strange sense of unease tingling over my skin. The strange bulges and shapes under the white fabric made no sense. It didn’t look like furniture, and the white cloth had a strangely shimmering texture.

  I crossed to one of the lumpy objects, tracing my finger over the surface, but a silky white substance, the texture like thin satin strands. They clung to my fingertips in delicate, shimmering fibers.