Agent of Darkness (Dark Fae FBI Book 3)

by C. N. Crawford

  No man to chase me away with an iron spear. Only the woman and me. I stalked closer, and she raised her eyes, warily, and I could already feel the sharp tingle of fear. I snarled at her, letting my canines shimmer just for a moment. She screamed in horror, and scrambled back, but I was beyond caring, shutting my eyes, letting the fear fill my body.

  And then a man ran out of the house. Large, wide, holding an iron blade.

  I turned to run, the woman’s fear giving me speed I didn’t have before. I sprinted through the streets, hiding outside Londinium’s stone wall.

  Breathing hard, I suddenly felt a sharp tug, something beckoning me—strangely familiar, like my mother was calling me home. I followed the sensation, deeper into Londinium.

  A tall stone stood in the midst of an empty terrace. And it thrummed with power.

  I came closer, my steps hesitant, afraid. But the closer I came, the more certain I was that this thing would not hurt me. That it, in fact, belonged to me, to the Weala Broc bloodline. I lay my hand on it, overwhelmed by the immense power held within.

  A terror reservoir.

  It whispered in my ears, telling me of its past, of the screams of Londinium when Boudicca had burned it to the ground. I knew it was even older than we were. Older than the fae. It was here long before. And it offered me power. All I needed to give it in return was fear. Not just human fear, but fae fear as well. For the stone, they were one and the same. I would deliver sacrifices, and it would give me power to take back our lands from the Seelie.

  A deal sealed in blood.

  I picked up a shard of clay from the floor, and cut my hand with it, my pulse racing. Then I took a step forward and touched the stone, smearing it with my blood.

  I pulled back from the memory quickly, before I had to share Ogmios’ bonding with the Stone.

  My breath shuddered, my fists clenching the bedsheets. Nausea climbed up my throat, and sweat dampened my body. Now, my hand throbbed in pain, almost as if it echoed the pain from all those centuries ago.

  His corrupted mind bloomed in mine like a tumor. His emotions were too intense, too desperate, too acidic. I was losing myself. Still, I had to know more, had to understand my enemy.

  A knock on the door echoed in the room. “Cassandra?” Roan’s voice.

  “Go away!” My voice sounded strangled, strange.

  He immediately opened the door, the disrespectful wretch. Hatred simmered in my chest.

  “Are you all right?” he asked. “You’ve been here for more than three hours and—”

  I glared at him, rage searing my mind. Roan, from the house of Taranis. The house of whores, of filthy traitors more beast than fae.

  “I told you to go away, you carnal parasite!” I roared at him. “Get out before I flay you with an iron blade like I flayed your treasonous father!”

  His eyes widened, and he seemed to freeze.

  I gritted my teeth. “Not now, Roan, please. Ogmios… I need just a bit more time. Almost there.”

  Roan reached for me. “He is corrupting you.”

  “Stay where you are!” I roared. I wanted to lunge at him and tear his throat out. I could feel my claws materializing…

  No. It was Ogmios. Not me. I forced the craving away.

  “Just… a bit more,” I managed. “I’m almost there.”

  He hesitated, then gave me a sharp nod, fury glinting in his eyes. He crossed the threshold, slamming the door behind him.

  I was following a strand in the web of memories, and I could feel the answer just beyond the next curve, to an older memory, one that pulsed with emotion.

  I tugged the strand closer, and it swallowed me.

  Outside the palace, just fifty yards from our beautiful orchard, Father stared down at me from atop his horse. “You can do it. You are big enough to mount a horse on your own.”

  Tears of frustration pricked my eyes. Father’s horse was enormous, angry. Once, when I’d pet him, he’d bitten me. I still carried the scar.

  My father’s blue eyes were unrelenting. If I didn’t ride on my own, he’d leave me behind with my mother.

  Marshaling my resolve, I turned back to the dark horse. I clenched my jaw and ran up to the horse, gripping his mane as I jumped. I hoisted myself up, flinging a leg over his back. And then, suddenly, I was on top of him, looking at the world from above. I had ridden this horse many times before, but it now almost felt as if I sat taller.

  My father’s face cracked in a proud smile. “Well done, Ogmios.”

  His words warmed me, and I lowered my eyes to hide my blush.

  “We should leave,” he said. “The scouts reported a large group coming our way. It’s probably nothing, but we should always be vigilant in case the Seelie invade.”

  I nodded. A leader should be on his guard.

  “Arausio,” my mother’s soft voice purred behind us. “My lord.”

  We both glanced back. Flanked by two guards, she stood outside the gleaming palace walls, dressed in white. Her body shimmered with the orange glow that always followed her, eyes sparkling with a pale violet.

  “I need to go,” Father called to her. “We will be back in two days. Three at the most.”

  She crossed her arms, pouting. “You’re leaving without kissing me goodbye?”

  “A kiss with you never ends at that,” my father said, pleasure tinging his voice.

  My mother turned away and stepped through the palace gate, and my father stared after her.

  After a moment, he said, “Wait here, Ogmios. I will only be a minute.”

  I knew from experience that was a lie, but I watched helplessly as he got off the horse, and followed my mother through the gate.

  I waited for a minute, and one more. My stomach rumbled, and I sighed. I wouldn’t have time to eat once we began riding. I glanced at the apple orchard. The apples were at their best now, their red color gleaming in the sunlight. My mouth watered as I imagined the sweet, juicy bite. But Father had told me to wait.

  Of course, he said it would only be one minute, and it clearly wasn’t. I was old enough to know what he and Mother were doing. I would just hop down, eat an apple or two, and get two for the road.

  The jump from the horse scared me, but I managed it. I hurried to the orchard, the sweet smells drawing me closer. The bees hummed around me as I approached the closest tree, searching for the perfect apple. Then I noticed one, a bit deeper into the orchard, on a smaller tree. I bowed my head under a large branch and walked between the shady trees, closing in on the perfect piece of fruit. It had been ready to drop, and I plucked it easily. I smelled it, shutting my eyes at the sweet scent, then took a large bite. Perhaps it was the hunger talking, or my previous moment of glory on the horse, but it tasted like the sweetest apple I had ever eaten.

  The sudden shout of a guard took me by surprise. I had been daydreaming, munching on the apple, imagining myself riding Father’s horse on my own. I hadn’t even noticed the time pass. I turned around and hurried to the tree line, where I stopped.

  There were dozens of them on horseback. Glowing with beauty, their hair pale, bodies adorned in leaves. They streamed through the arched gate into the palace, gripping pikes. The Seelie. I had rarely seen them before, and certainly not beyond our borders. My body froze, and I simply stared from the line of the trees, my fist tightening around the apple in my hand.

  It seemed that time slowed to a crawl, until I heard my mother’s scream from inside the palace walls.

  I stared as a Seelie ran from our home, carrying my mother. She was limp, and bloody, and the Seelie tossed her body on the ground like a discarded apple core. She crumpled without resisting, drenched in blood, eyes open and vacant.

  I couldn’t move, my heart frozen. On horseback, another Seelie galloped from our palace, sheathing a large sword. Then his eyes met mine, and his mouth twitched cruelly. My hand crept to the knife on my belt. I would charge him, slit his throat, and get my mother out of there. My father would charge out of the house and help me f
ight the invaders off. We would make them pay.

  The Seelie warrior took a sudden step in my direction.

  I bolted into the orchard, heart beating, and the Seelie’s laughter echoed in my ears as I gave in to my own cowardice.

  I pulled back from the memory, still feeling the branches of the orchard trees snapping against my face as I fled the laughing Seelie, consumed by self-hatred and fear.

  I took deep breaths, trying to carefully detach who I was from the emotions and thoughts of the Unseelie King. I wanted to know more, but maybe Roan had been right. Ogmios was slowly corrupting me. The fae was old and powerful, and with every memory I delved into, his web of thought seemed to grow larger in my mind. I could already sense his memories growing in power.

  But this was a two-way street.

  If I could sense his thoughts merging in mine, maybe he could feel mine, too.

  I carefully quested in my mind, scanning the web of his thoughts. I didn’t want his memories anymore. I needed to see him now.

  …I watch the battlefield from atop the hill. The Seelie are slowly losing ground, and I smile. We’ve managed to breach their defenses in three different places along the borders. Their army will not be able to spread itself so thinly for long. A week, maybe two, and we’ll push in. Perhaps in two months I’ll be able to walk on my parents’ land again.

  I clenched my fists, shielding my mind, reminding myself who I was. Cassandra, not Ogmios. Then, I plucked an image out of my own memories—a single, clear image. And I flung it at the king’s web of thoughts.

  The Seelie archers were skilled, better than mine. I resolved to train a separate cavalry unit to charge at the enemy’s archers. Thicker armor, they wouldn’t need the flexibility of the—

  A strange image popped in my mind. A dark-skinned human man with hazel eyes and a talking raven on his shoulder, standing in the London streets. I blinked in surprise, losing my thread of thought. What a bizarre thing to think about during a battle. A human beast. I shook my head. It was time to send the auxiliary troops in. I raised the battle horn to my lips.

  I let a smile spread on my face. Gently, I got off the bed, a sudden wave of dizziness assaulting me. How long had I been lying here?

  “Roan?”

  He opened the door almost immediately, concern etched across his features.

  “I think I can get him,” I said faintly. “I can get the king.”

  Chapter 36

  As king, I’d made a promise to reclaim our lands. And now, I’d fulfill it.

  Through the flapping canvas entrance, a cool breeze filtered into the tent. I let myself enjoy its gentle caress—the feeling of victory. It was the breeze of our own land. And it carried with it a faint waft of smoke and blood, the scent of war.

  I tried to stay focused, tuning into the general as he spoke “…Thirty-five wounded. Three have to be sent back. They will not be able to fight any longer. However, the Seelie forces suffered the loss of a crucial defense outpost, and their casualties number more than a hundred. We caught nineteen prisoners…”

  I let my eyes roam over the war council. They all sat straight in their chairs, listening with rapt attention to their general. There was a glass of water and a fruit bowl by each and every one of them, all untouched.

  Why? Aren’t they hungry after the battle? An intrusive thought. I had no idea where it came from.

  My mind jumped to the last time someone had taken a fruit from the bowl. Had he thought I wouldn’t notice? Or had he assumed I was too drunken with victory to care? How he had screamed as the whip flayed his back. I would not tolerate weakness in my commanders. I gritted my teeth, forcing myself to listen to the general.

  “… A second line of defense several miles inland, but beyond that, I believe our progress would be easier. Our men will be ready to move on in three days…”

  The smell of the fruit in your bowl is amazing. Its sweet flesh would be sublime. Can you imagine the feeling of the juice on your tongue, dripping down your fingers?

  Mutinous thoughts.

  “…And I believe that with the troops coming from the north we can take the largest outpost by surprise, securing a crucial advantage…”

  Think of the taste of that red apple’s juicy meat, your canines sinking into its skin, the nectar dripping down your throat.

  “…We think we can get additional materials for siege ladders from the current… uh… from the current outpost that…” He blinked, appearing confused.

  “Yes, general?” I asked testily.

  He looked at me. Several eyes glanced at me as well. I realized I held an apple in my hand, only inches from my mouth. Angrily, I crushed it in my fist, letting them watch the pulp roll down my palm.

  “You were saying?” I gritted out.

  “Of course.” He hurriedly cleared his throat. “As I was saying, we can find additional materials in the…”

  I stopped listening, my heart beating angrily. How dared they question my strength! Did they think I would bite that apple in front of them all? I was just testing myself!

  I flung the pulp’s remnants on the ground, the delicious scent of fruit engulfing me.

  I marched down the camp, the darkness of evening slowly creeping around us. Campfires blazed among the darkness, and I could smell the scent of sizzling meat. My stomach grumbled, and I decided to eat a small slice of meat tonight. I deserved that, after my victorious day.

  As I walked, a raven-haired serving maid crossed the path in front of me, her body and face covered. I stopped and looked at her severely, making sure that no skin showed. Lusts rose high after a battle, and I would have none of my men corrupted by temptation. They were not as strong as I was, and I couldn’t expect from them the same amount of—

  Imagine her body underneath all those fabrics. Imagine her nipples puckering under your hands.

  The same… the same amount of self-control…

  Imagine how she’d moan as her legs opened for you. How warm she would feel in your bed.

  Blood drained from my head, racing to all the wrong places, and I gaped at the filthy harlot.

  “I should have you branded, whore!” I screamed, spittle flying from my mouth. “I should have your nose cut from your face!”

  Her terrified eyes met mine, and she scuttled away into the darkness. Wouldn’t be so tempting with a mutilated face, would she?

  Enraged, I marched on. I would go to sleep hungry. I would not let victory crowd my determination.

  The morning trumpets woke me up from a long night of vivid dreams. Naked women writhing in front of me, licking my body, offering me fruit and wine. I laughed with them, drinking with abandon, fucking them senseless. The night stretched for hours. Twice I awoke, and atoned for my licentious dreams. Whenever I shut my eyes, they materialized again, tempting me with their flesh.

  I was dazed, exhausted, my back burning from the night’s atonement, flesh raw and bleeding. My stomach grumbled. That was the cause of my dreams. I had been too hard with myself, and my body had confused its basic needs, mistaking hunger for lust. I should have allowed myself a small meal. Perhaps some dry bread and salted meat. I shook my head. I would go to the kitchen later, and get myself some rations to satisfy my hunger.

  I pulled on my clothes, glancing at the bowl of fruit by my bed

  Do you see those grapes? So large and green. Succulent. Imagine one cracking between your teeth.

  Then I went and washed my face in the icy water from the basin. I sat in a chair to pull on my boots.

  Try one. Just one. You deserve it. Such an amazing victory yesterday. Let yourself enjoy it.

  I shoved those thoughts from my mind, focusing on the upcoming day. I would be present at the prisoners’ interrogation. I’d feed on fear. Perhaps ask some questions of my—

  A sharp, sweet taste in my mouth took me by surprise, and I looked down at my hand. I held a cluster of grapes, and the sinful juice ran down my chin.

  I roared in anger and shame, throwing the grapes
on the ground. Weakness! It had been so long since… since I…

  Try another one. It tasted so good.

  Where were these thoughts coming from? Surely, they weren’t my own.

  I scrambled to my trunk, flung it open, and pulled out the flail. I began lashing myself over and over, ripping through the clothes on my back, tearing into the open wounds, the pain driving any shred of temptation away.

  Finally, breathing hard, I let the flail drop, its strands glistening with blood. My back burned as if someone had spread live coals on it. I let the pain cleanse me, make me stronger. I—

  It would feel so good to feel a woman’s hands soothing you. Can you imagine it?

  I shook my head, trying to banish those thoughts. What was happening to me? I stumbled back to the basin, and washed my face with icy water again. I lifted my eyes to the small mirror above it, watching my haggard face, my eyes red-rimmed, my shoulders bloody from the lashing.

  I should have all the unmarried fae women killed.

  And then the reflection flickered, and instead I saw a young woman looking at me, a smile on her face, her blond hair cascading down bare shoulders. Cassandra’s mother.

  I yelled, and hit the mirror, flinging it on the floor, where it shattered into pieces.

  And to my horror, a mocking laugh rang in my mind.

  I was falling apart. Two days. Two days of endless images of food, and wine, and naked whores, dancing in front of me. The days were bad enough, but I worked tirelessly, inspecting our progress, dispensing orders to my commanders, poring over battle plans and maps. I kept away from temptations, removed the fruit bowls, tried to fill my stomach with bread and water. I whipped myself until I bled through my clothes.

  The nights were horrifying. An endless orchestra of debauchery and lewdness. My brain was being poisoned. By that… by that…

  Mistress of Dread. Terror leech. Pixie. Your own mistake. Your greatest shame. Your daughter.

  By that abomination! How was she doing it?