by C. S. Wilde
She slapped his arm. “I’m not jealous, wu baku.”
Translation: you idiot. Being with Bast was certainly improving her language skills.
He snickered. “You enjoy cursing in Faeish, don’t you?”
She did, yes, but she didn’t tell him.
His chest rose and fell with a heavy breath. “We believe that when royalty has a vision, it’s bound to come true. But Karthana wasn’t a psychic, and she never had visions. Ever.”
“Maybe she had her own motivations. Maybe she’s lying.” Which was the most plausible explanation, especially if she resented Bast for leaving. “But why would the assassin do the work for free? Was he related to her?”
Bast scratched the back of his neck. “Kind of. Karthana’s father is the head of the League of Darkness, one of the greatest assassins’ guilds in Tagrad. That’s where the bounty hunter came from. And it would make sense for her father to send the witch before. He was probably testing the waters by using a different guild.”
“Mystery solved!” Mera tapped her own legs. “An angry ex-girlfriend. Somehow I’m not surprised.”
His forehead crinkled. “Maybe. But if the vision put me in danger, I doubt Karthana would blab. We parted on good terms.”
Did they?
A strange, prickling sensation stung her chest.
“Unless, whoever is behind this offered her something,” he murmured, rubbing the unblemished side of his forehead. “Everyone has their price, I suppose.” His mouth twisted as if he’d eaten something rotten. As if the words didn’t sit right in his tongue.
“Maybe they forced it out of her,” she offered. “Do you have any clue who might want to kill you?”
“That’s a looooong list.”
“Fine, different approach. The bounty hunter said a king was dead. What does that mean?”
Bast scoffed and lowered his head. “Easy. My father has passed.”
Mera gasped. “What?”
“He died, and someone wants me to do the same,” he spoke slowly, as if she was daft. “Which is odd. I’m the last in line for the throne, and besides, I was disowned a long time ago.”
“What about the first in line?” Mera asked, shocked at Bast’s reaction—or lack thereof. “Aren’t they in danger? Shouldn’t we contact the night fae jurisdiction?”
“Leon?” He chortled. “I’d know if he wasn’t okay, trust me. Also, we do have a precinct, but it’s been empty for decades.”
This was getting weirder by the second. “You’re on an island. Tagrad should have some representation there.”
“It does. The Night King works as a sort of deputy, which means the court’s guards are effectively Tagradian police.” He shrugged. “Besides, if there’s a problem, Tir Na Nog officers liaise with local forces by flying there or taking a boat. The waters are protected anyway, and the island isn’t that far.”
So, night fae had carte blanche to do whatever they wanted in their territory. Either the Tagradian government was really stupid, or they really trusted them.
Mera rubbed the bridge of her nose, feeling an oncoming headache. “Okay, fine, it doesn’t matter. But Bast, we have to take this to Captain Asherath.”
He stood up and went to one of the chairs on the dining table, where he’d dropped his sleeping clothes in the morning. Removing his pants, Bast showcased black boxers that fit him stupidly well.
Mera looked away, but heard him chuckling in the background.
“Stop pretending to be such a prude, kitten. We technically had sex.”
She blushed furiously. “It was just a dream!”
“Keep telling yourself that,” he mocked. “You can look now.”
Even with a black T-shirt and shorts, Bast was outstanding. It didn’t seem fair to her that one single male could look this… perfect.
‘Arousing is the right word,’ her siren whispered.
Shooting up to her feet, Mera slammed both hands on her waist. “Look, whoever is out for you clearly won’t drop the bone until you’re dead. Ignoring the problem won’t solve anything.”
“I know.” He stepped closer and laid a warm, heavy hand on her shoulder. “I’ll deal with it, I promise. But we have a murder to solve first, hopefully before whoever hired that assassin realizes he’s dead.”
She nodded, relaxing under his touch, but wondered if she should tell him what was on her mind. “Bast, your father died. It’s okay to mourn him.”
Even Mera had mourned Queen Ariella in her own way. She’d mourned the opportunities they’d missed, the moments they would never share. Most of all, she mourned for the mother she never had.
“I’m fine.” He threw himself on the sofa and closed his eyes. “Good night.”
“Will you please inform Captain Asherath tomorrow? You don’t need to tell him you killed a defenseless faerie, but he should be informed that your life is in danger.” She tapped her temple. “Why not contact him right now with that magic line you both share?”
“He has a life and we’re off work.” He inhaled deeply. “I suppose we can stop by the precinct tomorrow, before we pay a visit to Zev Ferris’ poker buddies. Would that make you stop nagging me?”
“It would.” She headed to her room, feeling as if Bast was the siren who dragged her under.
He left a body trail in his wake, and Mera covered for him. Granted, it had been a matter of survival, literally, and not at all different from what she’d done to her mother. Still, it didn’t sit right in her throat.
Maybe Mera could bring him back to the surface. Maybe she could save him from himself.
Stopping by the bedroom door, she turned around. “Bast, I know you’ve never had a proper partner before, so you don’t know what to expect. But you’re not alone in this, okay?”
A dashing grin tilted his lips, but his eyes remained closed. “Stop smothering me, partner.”
The next morning, Bast landed them on the rooftop of his precinct.
Mera had tied her hair in a low braid before they’d soared into the sky, that way, her hairdo kept neatly in place, even after Bast took them on a large loop moments before landing.
“We should’ve taken this entrance when we first came in,” she admitted, exhilaration still lingering in her veins.
“I didn’t think you’d enjoy flying so much.” He stepped closer and placed a hand on the curve of her waist, but removed it quickly when a faerie wearing a navy suit and a sequoia shirt passed by them.
He nodded at Bast before his purple wings spread wide, and then off he went into the sky. Mera couldn’t say if she was angry or grateful for the interruption.
Bast showed her the entrance. “Let’s get this over with so we can continue our investigation, shall we?”
They went down the stairs, and knocked on the captain’s door.
A faerie with pinkish hair and canary skin welcomed them. He was shorter than Bast and wore a white captain’s uniform. His cheeks glittered as if they’d been dusted with golden powder.
“Detective Dhay,” he greeted in a monotone voice. “I was hoping you’d come by. I’m your new Captain, Solomon Cane.” He offered him his hand.
Bast’s jaw hung open. “Where’s Captain Asherath?”
“He took a leave of absence.”
“Leave of absence, my ass.” Bast’s fists closed, and he stepped forward. “Where’s my captain, baku?”
“I’ll forget you’ve insulted your superior.” Solomon held both hands behind his back, arching a pink eyebrow. “Apparently, your Captain had a knack for mishandling evidence. Everyone knows the Tir Na Nog precinct can bend the rules to get things done, but mishandling evidence is not something the government of Tagrad can overlook.”
“The phone.” Bast stepped back. “Where’s Redford?”
Solomon gave him a pleased grin that reminded Mera of a hyena. “Under investigation. You mishandled evidence, Detective. So did your captain. However, the Summer King’s family was kind enough to forgive your mishap. You should be gratef
ul. Captain Asherath wasn’t so lucky, considering his feud with the Autumn Court.”
“You fucking bastard,” Mera muttered, disgust reeling through her.
With a huff, Solomon ignored her, certainly deeming a human not worth the bother.
“Why not punish me?” Bast asked, confusion in his tone. “I’m the one who made the mistake, not Fallon or Redford.”
“Politics, I suppose.” Solomon shrugged nonchalantly. “By the way, the faerie who killed Zev Ferris confessed.”
No. Way.
“What did you just say?” Mera asked, hoping she’d misheard him.
“The Summer King wronged the culprit in a game of cards. What a dull reason for such an elaborate murder, don’t you think? He’ll spend the rest of his life without seeing the light of day, which is a fate worse than death for a Summer faerie.” He patted Bast’s shoulder. “Good job, Detective. Please arrange for the return of your human partner to Clifftown, where she belongs.”
“Where I belong?” Mera stepped forward, ready to teach this dickwart the lesson of a lifetime. “Who do you think you are, you giant fuc—”
Bast grabbed her wrist and shook his head. The worry in his eyes silenced Mera.
To enforce the law in Tir Na Nog, one had to bend it a little. Every decent fae out there did it, as long as the result was a win for Tagrad. The light courts had been counting on that, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
“We are happy the case is solved,” Bast assured with a strain in his neck. “Captain.”
“Good. You’ve been working tirelessly for the past years.” Solomon tapped his arm. “Why don’t you accompany Detective Maurea back to her precinct, and then take some time off? You deserve it, officer Dhay.”
A certain calm took over Bast. His shoulders dropped and he gave Solomon the fakest of grins. “Of course. Thank you, Captain.”
Taking Mera’s hand, he pulled her out of the precinct, never bothering to look back. Mera did, though, and saw Solomon waving at them with a cruel smirk.
This was wrong. So very wrong.
She glanced down at her hand in Bast’s, their fingers intertwined. A blush rose to her cheeks, even if unwarranted.
Leading her into the street, he let go of her hand, and spun around. A mix of bewilderment and desperation marred his face. “This is bad.”
Mera glanced back at the precinct’s glass building, the one place that represented Hollowcliff and Tagrad in this cursed borough.
The last stand.
It had been taken down from the inside.
Yeah.
They had a huge fucking problem.
Chapter 17
Bast sat on the sofa, hunched over his knees. He hid his face behind his palms, and if Mera didn’t know better, she would say the Night Prince-slash-detective might be praying.
“It was bound to happen,” he said, his voice muffled behind his hands, “just not so soon. And not like this.”
She dropped on the padded cushion beside him, not knowing what to say or do. “What if we tell the government?”
It was a stupid idea. She realized it the moment she said it aloud. Solomon had been sanctioned through the proper channels. He’d provided evidence against Captain Asherath, and as far as the papers went, he’d done right by Tagradian law.
Evidence was sacred. Everyone knew that.
Asherath and Bast had ignored this simple rule, because they feared the corruption in the Tir Na Nog precinct⸺clearly with reason.
A mistake, granted. With giant consequences.
Not that the government was wrong—if Mera messed with evidence back in Clifftown, she would lose her badge, and maybe even go to prison. Yes, tampering with evidence in the human borough was bad, but doing it in Tir Na Nog? It might be the only way to catch the bad guys.
She understood that now.
Bast leaned back on the sofa, his eyes closed. He stayed in silence for a while. His strong Adam’s apple bobbed up and down every so often, and her siren wanted to lick it.
He seemed incredibly peaceful, even though he must have been writhing inside.
‘Smell the curve of his neck,’ the horny bastard inside Mera whispered.
“Like what you see, kitten?” he asked, his eyes still closed.
She crossed her arms and leaned back on the couch, glad that he couldn’t see her blushing.
“Oh, wow, he’s awake.” Softly, she kicked his left shin. “What are you doing?”
“Talking to Captain Asherath. He’s safe.” He opened his eyes, but a concerned frown marred his forehead. “He’s with Stella.”
“He is?”
“Yeah. We arranged for this a while ago.” Bast must’ve noticed the question on her face. “Fallon always knew our safety bubble was fragile, but we were getting somewhere, kitten. We were this close…” He grunted what sounded like malachais under his breath, and sitting up abruptly, his palm slammed on the coffee table. “That’s how those assholes got to him. By making him look dirty. Fallon is the most trustworthy fae in the entire goddamn borough!”
“It stinks of a political maneuver.”
“That’s because it is.” His lips curled in the way of a lion about to prowl. “The Autumn Court wanted his head for a long time. And I delivered it on a platter to them.”
“You can’t blame yourself for this.” She laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. “If we had followed procedure, we wouldn’t have gotten the phone in the first place. You said it yourself, to fight for justice in Tir Na Nog, we can’t play by the rules.”
His breathing slowly steadied, his anger not gone, merely contained.
“You’re right,” he conceded. “The captain is pissed. He wants to go to Clifftown with proof of corruption and ill intent.” Bast ran a hand over his face. “He says he has enough to squeeze Solomon and get to whoever supported this coup. Only problem is, the courts are after Fallon. And I doubt they’ll make an arrest if they find him.”
Yeah, she doubted that too. “Is there any way we can help?”
Bast clicked his tongue. “Solomon will be keeping an eye on us. We could lead him straight to Fallon, and my sister.”
A definite no, then.
“He’s safe with Stella, for the time being,” Bast assured. “We aren’t registered as siblings since she’s a halfling. Father never acknowledged her.”
“And most Sidhe are snobbish bastards who tend to ignore halflings,” Mera added. “Which makes her place a perfect hideout.”
Her partner winked at her. “You’re not just for looks, kitten.”
She hated herself for blushing.
“Bast, this wouldn’t have happened if we hadn’t come close to something serious. There’s incriminating evidence on that phone, I can feel it. Something the light courts want silenced, and it has to do with the murders. It’s all connected.”
He nodded. “Whoever is behind Zev Ferris and Sara Hyland’s murders got Solomon his new job.”
She clapped her hands and stood, reeling in the adrenaline of the hunt. “Okay, here’s what we know so far: Sara Hyland was pregnant with a magical child, but it wasn’t Zev’s. She was drowned after someone stupefied her right here in Tir Na Nog.”
“Zev’s last message said he’d protect her. Maybe that’s why she came.”
“Right. Do you think she needed protection from the baby’s father? Maybe he belonged to one of the light courts.”
“Seems likely. Sara Hyland was a drug dealer. She walked with a bad crowd, so maybe that’s how she met her abusive baby daddy. But it also led her to Zev.” He lifted a finger. “Wait.” A smile caressed his lips. “Stella found someone to winnow her and Captain Asherath to Clifftown.”
“She’s talking to you?”
“Of course she is.” He sounded insulted. “You think I’d have a channel to Fallon but not to my own sister?” Before Mera could reply he waved a hand at her. “I also used to have it with my brother Leon, but it’s grown weaker. Now, I would only sense him if our bond vanis
hed.”
Meaning when one of them died.
No wonder Bast was so sure his brother was safe.
“Hey!” He frowned and stared past Mera, into an empty space. For a moment, she wondered if he had lost his mind.
“Stella, tell him to stop looking at you like that.” Silence ensued, then, “Stella, I swear…” Bast paused as if listening to her. “Yeah, but you’re my sis—” He cursed under his breath.
Mera guessed Stella had disconnected.
“Everything okay?”
“Fucking splendid,” he grunted, running a hand through his hair, and studying his own feet. “I keep wondering why Sara had the name Poseidon in her notebook.”
Mera shrugged and feigned nonchalance. “Coincidence? Come on, Bast, we’ve gone over this. Mermaids can’t enter the forbidden zone.”
His forehead wrinkled. “You mean protection zone?”
Falling into an endless pit within herself, she blinked. “Yes. Protection zone. That’s what I meant.” Mera cleared her throat. “Mermaids can’t enter Tagradian sea or land, and live to tell the tale. Sara would have to swim for at least two hours to even meet one.”
Humans couldn’t swim as fast as sirens, so it would’ve taken Sara hours to cover the distance Mera could do in a minute.
“Also,” she added, “how could a mermaid bring her body back to shore without dying in the process?”
“It does sound impossible,” Bast muttered, thoughts blasting behind his eyes.
She let out a discrete, relieved breath. Thankfully, her phone rang at that precise moment.
It was Jules.
A knot formed in her gut, but Mera couldn’t tell why.
“Hey,” he greeted from the other side. “The Cap told me you guys caught the culprit and that you’re coming back on Thursday?”
“Yeah,” she lied, knowing better than to tell him the truth, at least for the time being. She’d already made him accessory to tampering of evidence; she couldn’t make him accessory to whatever she and Bast were about to do.
“Finally.” There was a smile in his voice. “Do you need what we found on the phone?”