Agent of Darkness (Dark Fae FBI Book 3)

by C. N. Crawford

  “Am I better at curing your nightmares than Abellio, then?”

  “Mmmm. I think you have a superior technique. The others might let him root around in their minds, but I won’t let him near my memories.”

  “You let me near your memories.”

  His powerful arms encircled me. “You’re different. You’re Cassandra.”

  Chapter 20

  We crossed back to the house, Roan’s hand in mine, my dress clinging to my skin. But as soon as we crossed through the doorway into the darkened hall, my breath caught in my throat. A figure loomed in the shadows. When she stepped into the light, silvery moonlight washed over Elrine’s cherry-red hair, her pale skin.

  She folded her arms, eyes narrowed. “Enjoying yourselves?”

  Awwwwkward. I let go of Roan’s hand. Had she been watching us? Were they a couple? What the hell? “I’ll just…” I cleared my throat. “I’ll just go up to my room.”

  Elrine took a step closer, her eyes locked on Roan’s. “I’d say that’s a good idea. Letting Cassandra go to her own room—wouldn’t you, Roan? You know what happens if you sleep together, don’t you?”

  The tone of her voice suggested that it might involve castration. Now I was getting annoyed. What, exactly, was the deal with these two? If Roan and Elrine were together, what had just happened between us?

  I put my hands on my hips. “Am I getting in the middle of something, by any chance?”

  Roan met my gaze. “No,” he said firmly. “You aren’t. But Elrine’s right. You should go to your room to get some sleep.”

  “Whatever.” Feeling like I’d just been dismissed, I stalked off.

  Maybe I wasn’t getting in the middle of anything, but Elrine and Roan has secrets they didn’t want to share with me, and that stung more than anything.

  I woke in the morning, tangled in my bedsheets. Pale light glowed through the ancient windowpanes into the room, the clean white bedsheets, the stone walls.

  I’d slept soundly—a pure, nightmare-less sleep for the first time in ages. But when I woke in the morning, already confusion clouded my mind. Had Roan merely been feeding off my lust last night? After all, that’s how he drew his power. And with his hand between my legs, I’d certainly given him enough to feed from. He and Elrine seemed to have a bond forged by centuries of closeness.

  The storm hadn’t yet abated, and rain still hammered the windows. In my nightgown, I rose from my bed. After a few minutes of rifling around the clothes I’d borrowed, I pulled on a black dress and a pair of underwear. A strange sort of tension hung over the mansion today, as if the terror I’d instilled yesterday still lingered in the air.

  In the hall, the sound of faint voices drew me downstairs the dining room, along with the scent of roasted meat. My stomach rumbled fiercely. What the hell time was it, anyway?

  I found them sitting sullenly over a dinner of meat pies and mashed potatoes, the gravy curling with steam. Branwen sat with her head in her hands, staring at her dinner, her eyes puffy and red. Nerius glared at me, his lip curled. Abellio had a dazed look, his blue eyes open wide. And Elrine—Elrine sort of looked like she wanted to rip my ribs out and beat me to death with them. Only Roan looked happy to see me, his body still faintly glowing. A place had been set to his right, with a pie waiting for me. Dinner. Apparently, I’d slept the whole day.

  Roan arched an eyebrow. “I was just debating waking you, but when I peered in, you looked so peaceful.”

  The look Elrine shot him made my stomach flip. Then, she leveled her icy gaze on me. “Cassandra. How wonderful you could join us. Are you planning on inflicting your lovely powers on us again, Mistress of Dread?”

  I swallowed hard, pulling out the chair next to Roan. “Sorry,” I mumbled. “I understand you all got caught in the crossfire. I don’t quite have control yet.”

  Elrine stabbed her fork into her pie, the movement alarmingly violent. “As I understand it, you and Roan were the only ones who got any sleep last night. And we all know why that was.”

  My cheeks warmed. Let’s not make this a group discussion.

  I opened my mouth to speak, but Roan cut me off. “Enough. Yesterday was a clear demonstration of Cassandra’s powers. We need to keep developing them, to train more—”

  Elrine slammed her fork into the table. “Like hell you will! I’m not subjecting myself to that again.”

  Branwen cleared her throat. “Roan, the nightmares I had tonight… if Abellio hadn’t helped me get past them, I would have lost my mind.”

  Roan looked at them both, and then said, “From now on, we’ll find another place to train. Somewhere secluded, and away from other fae. But we have to keep going. The king fears her because she’s terrifying.”

  “She is terrifying.” Abellio swirled his glass of nectar. “To all of us. A lesser man than myself would have spent the day pissing himself yesterday. You can’t seriously be thinking of continuing with these dread powers, are you? Her abilities are far too erratic. She’ll disable us all during combat. We should plan the attack ahead, discounting them.”

  Nerius leaned over the table, his dark eyes intense. “Absurd. She may be a Weala Broc fae and a fortal, but she is a deadly weapon. And weapons should be used. She needs to be trained, and then we can use her.”

  Branwen raised a hand. “Agreed. She’s fucking terrifying. Let’s focus that terror on the king’s troops.”

  I cut into my pie. “I don’t suppose anyone cares what the deadly weapon thinks?”

  “No,” said Elrine with finality.

  “Go on,” said Roan.

  “I think there’s more to this.”

  “Meaning?” Nerius asked.

  “The London Stone connects to both the king and my powers.”

  Nerius glowered. “It’s just a big fucking rock.”

  I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I don’t know exactly how, but I just know that it’s important. It ignited my ability somehow. We need to study it more. I need to study it more.”

  Roan frowned at me over his glass of nectar. “Last time you touched it, it nearly overwhelmed you. Are you sure you want to try it again?”

  I nodded. “That Stone has power, and we need to harness it to our use.”

  “To your use, you mean,” Elrine said. “Since you’ll be the one who touches it. We just need to wait and hope for the best.”

  I shook my head. “No. We need to take the initiative. It’s powerful and we need to get it away from the king. We need to steal the London Stone.”

  I sat with the truck’s passenger’s window lowered, letting the cool breeze blow on my face as Nerius drove through London’s empty streets. Branwen, Roan, and Abellio sat behind us, and I peered up at the cloudy night sky, not a star in sight.

  The rain had stopped, thankfully, and the air had a freshness to it that lifted my spirits. At just after four a.m., a heavy silence hung over the city. Even the drunks were sleeping by now.

  It had taken Nerius a few hours to rent the truck, a brand new brown Nissan Navara. Five of us had crammed in the truck, with Elrine left behind because A) there weren’t enough seats, and B) she kind of seemed like she wanted to murder me.

  The Nissan’s engine hummed satisfyingly as we drove past Bank Station, moving closer to our goal. Mentally, I ran through the plan. I had been worried that the Stone’s weight could be a problem. It was, to use Nerius’s apt description, a big fucking rock. But it was limestone, which didn’t weigh as much as other rocks. And anyway, I had the faint impression that Roan could lift several thousand tons of rock all at once.

  After checking online for the rock’s measurements, and calculating somewhat pessimistically, I estimated the Stone’s weight to be no more than four hundred pounds. No problem.

  On Cannon Street, Nerius parked the truck by the curbside, only a few feet from the Stone’s display case. I could hardly see it in the darkness behind the metal bars, but we’d brought some tools that could cut through the grate. It would be noisy, but would get t
he job done.

  I pulled open the passenger door and stepped down, crossing to the rock. From the back seat, Branwen pulled out a leather bag with her lock picks. She walked over to the shop’s door and crouched, fiddling with the lock while the rest stood watch, prepared to sound the alert if anyone passed by.

  I took out a small mirror and gazed into it, letting it click with my mind. I leapt, the reflection washing over my skin like cool liquid.

  I stepped from a reflection in one of the store’s mirrors. The room seemed darker tonight, the light dimmed by a moonless sky outside. Already, I felt the Stone calling to me, its dark power trying to draw me closer. In the dark, I could just about make out the white cloth covering the glass. Still broken apparently. It begged me to touch it, only for a second. Gritting my teeth, I approached the counter instead, and began looking for a second set of keys. If I could find them and unlock the door to the shop, our job would already be half done.

  From outside, I could hear the faint scraping of Branwen’s tools on the lock, then a curse. She’d warned us beforehand that she wasn’t sure that she could pick the lock, that she wasn’t very good with the new human padlocks.

  I opened a drawer and rummaged inside, groping around blindly in the darkness. I rifled past what felt like receipts, a few rubber bands, a stapler. No keys.

  I felt under the cash register, checked the shelves on the walls, and had just begun to scour the floor, when a shadowy movement turned my head.

  I raised my eyes, then dove to the floor as a fist swung for my head. A loud crash echoed off the walls, and I rolled aside and kicked at the figure in the darkness, feeling my foot connect, hearing a grunt of pain. Adrenaline surging, I jumped to my feet, pulling the stiletto free from my belt.

  A huge, roaring figure crashed into me, knocking me to the floor. Metal glinted as he swung for me, and a sharp pain lanced the side of my neck. My eyes were now adjusting to the dark, and I rammed the stiletto upward, sinking it into my assailant’s body. Grunting in pain, he pulled back, wrenching the knife free from my grasp. I was now empty-handed.

  As I stepped away from the looming figure, the sharp report of gunfire pierced the silence, then a scream of pain. Roan’s feral roar. My heart skipped a beat. What the hell was happening?

  As my assailant stepped closer into a faint stream of light, I realized for the first time what he’d cut my neck with—a long, curved sword. He glared at me with purple eyes, baring sharp teeth, and plucked the knife from his body as if he were merely pulling out a splinter.

  I scrambled back, my hand fumbling for a weapon, closing on something hard. He swung the sword at me and I parried it clumsily with the object in my head—a goddamn tennis racket. He jerked his arm and the racket twisted in my hand. I tried to feel for his fear, but my own terror was too overwhelming. Again and again he swung his sword, backing me into a corner, the blade whistling past my body.

  Then, his purple eyes widened, and he let out a gurgle. He toppled to the floor, clutching his chest. Behind him stood a dark figure holding the stiletto. My own shadow.

  “Thanks,” I said breathlessly. My shadow, controlled by Branwen, gave me a quick nod. I took my knife from it, then felt the ripple over my skin as it merged back to my body.

  From outside, Roan’s voice boomed. “Cassandra! It was a trap, let’s go!”

  My heart slammed against my ribs, panic rising. The king had known that we would come, and had been prepared. I tightened my fingers around my knife in frustration. We’d never get the Stone out of here. Not with the king’s people watching it.

  “Cassandra!” Roan roared.

  There was only one chance. I rushed to the display case, yanking off the white cloth. Carefully, I slid my arm into the jagged hole. I stood on my tiptoes until I could reach the rock, waiting for the rush of power, the screams and memories.

  Nothing.

  Its power rushed dimly under the surface, and I could almost hear a faint cry through the rough limestone, but it felt distant. Closing my eyes, I searched for the Stone’s core, tried to picture the screaming, the visions I’d seen.

  Still nothing.

  With a slam, the store’s door burst open, and two large fae rushed in, faint light streaming behind them. One raised his hand, pointing a large gun at me. I dove for the ground, and gunshots rang out, just missing me. I crawled behind the counter, and more shots slammed into the wooden surface. I could only hope it was thick enough to provide cover. My fingers shaking, I fumbled through my purse for another mirror and pulled one out, nearly dropping it. At last, I snapped the compact mirror open, let my mind bond with it, and jumped, sighing with relief as the reflection washed over my skin.

  The world flickered as I appeared outside by our truck. I had jumped through the side mirror. Roan stood a few feet from me, antlers glimmering on his head, his sword in hand, swinging it in huge arcs. Four large fae surrounded him, closing in. Growling, Roan sliced his sword clean through one’s neck. As blood sprayed into the air, another fae pulled a gun.

  “Roan, gun!” I screamed.

  Roan’s blade was already swinging for him, and he brought it down into the fae’s arm, cutting it off at the elbow. The fae shrieked, blood pouring from his ragged stump. I looked around me, panicking. Abellio fought off two banshees with a long, sharp rapier, back to back with Branwen, who was crouching, stiletto knives in hand. Her hands darted fast as she slashed at a large winged woman. That’s when I noticed Nerius lying on the floor in a puddle of blood, a few feet away. My chest tightened in fear.

  In the distance, I could see lights. Cars. They drove up to us, stopping with a screech, and their passengers burst out of the doors. Blades drawn, eyes flickering in the darkness, some holding guns. More fae, all intent on killing us. I had to do something now. I had to stop it, and I couldn’t get to my dread powers.

  Frantically, I scrambled into the driver’s seat of the truck and turned the key in the ignition. The truck roared into life and I hit the gas pedal. The vehicle lurched onto the curb, and I twisted the steering wheel, swerving and smashing straight into the winged woman Branwen fought.

  “Get Nerius!” I shouted at her.

  The two fae from the shop burst through the door, one of them raising his gun. He pulled the trigger and I ducked. The bullet shattered the truck’s window, but his second shot went wide. The fae were amateurs, unused to guns. They let the recoil jolt their hands, and aimed badly.

  The passenger door behind me opened and Branwen dragged Nerius inside. I shifted into reverse and kicked the door beside me open. “Abellio!”

  He dove inside headfirst as I hit the gas. The truck shot backwards, just as a few additional shots were fired. Roan ran toward us, eight fae on his trail. I shifted gears again into drive, and the truck roared forward. Roan leapt into the cargo bed as we swerved into the street, zig-zagging away.

  Chapter 21

  I clutched the steering wheel grimly, knuckles whitening as the truck accelerated, hurtling down Cannon Street. Behind me, Nerius grunted in pain, and Branwen talked to him soothingly.

  “How is he doing?” I asked.

  “He’s been shot in the stomach,” Branwen said, her voice cracking. “Iron bullet. Those fuckers! Fae using iron against other fae!”

  I gritted my teeth. “Is there an exit wound?”

  “I… I don’t think so.”

  “The bullet is probably still in him. Once we get back to the mansion, we can take it out.”

  “Get us there!” she shrieked. “Fast!”

  I glanced at the rear window. Two pairs of taillights followed close behind on our tail. “We have to lose them first, or they’ll know exactly where to find us.”

  I swerved left on the first crossroad. The truck rocked a bit, and I momentarily lost control, smashing the side mirror into a traffic sign. In the back, I heard Roan curse. After a few seconds I saw the two cars in pursuit taking the turn without a hitch. Gaining on us.

  “Damn it,” I muttered.

&
nbsp; One of them pulled ahead, inching closer. A white-haired fae pushed his torso out of the window and aimed a gun at us. I instinctively ducked as the report of gunshots rang out.

  “Everyone stay low!” I shouted, zig-zagging left and right. A screech, and a loud thump rang out. Looking back to the cargo bed, I glimpsed a large white bird transforming into a woman. She lunged at Roan and slashed his face with her talons.

  “Cassandra!” Abellio shouted.

  I looked up and swerved, just missing a van coming our way, honking as it whizzed past on Fenchurch Street.

  “Ah, gods on earth,” Nerius groaned in the back.

  “We’re nearly there,” Branwen told him.

  We weren’t nearly there. Glancing at the rear-view mirror, I saw Roan holding a limp banshee in one hand, her neck at a weird angle. He raised her body and threw it at the car behind us. The car swerved, the banshee’s body tumbling into the road.

  The car in pursuit accelerated, coming at us from the right. It rammed into us, knocking us off course, and I nearly crashed us into a traffic light. I could see the white-haired fae behind the wheel, his mouth stretched in a wide grin. I felt for all the reflections in that car, and instantaneously flooded them with a bright light. He screamed, momentarily blinded, and I twisted the steering wheel, feeling our truck shudder as it hit their car. They swerved out of control, rammed against the curb, and crashed into a building.

  I let out a breath, but just then, the truck began rocking. Something else had landed on the cargo bed. Of course it had. I glanced in the rearview mirror, catching a glimpse of the winged woman Branwen had been fighting. She was huge, almost eight feet tall and covered in feathers, and she swiped for Roan’s face with her talons.

  The other car was gaining at us again as we neared a corner in the road. I glanced in the rearview mirror, finding Roan grappling with the winged creature, one hand around her throat.

  “Roan, hang on!” I screamed, hoping he could hear. I slowed a bit as I took the turn, but it was still too fast, and I could feel the truck tipping, two wheels rising in the air. Behind us, Roan and the creature slammed down in a tangle of limbs. The truck shuddered as it righted itself. The car behind us took the corner, the wheels squealing, without even slowing down. The fae might be new to guns, but some of them definitely knew how to drive.