Grave War (An Alex Craft Novel)

by Kalayna Price

  Now the ghost looked even more startled, and he shoved his glasses up again, even though they hadn’t slipped this time and if he kept pushing at them like that, they were going to go through his face.

  “Uh, yeah. I’m okay, but Alex, something really weird is going on,” he said, following me into the one-room loft. “The castle is gone. I mean, I know it just kind of appeared one day, so easy come easy go, but how does a castle vanish?”

  “What has happened?” a gruff voice asked from farther inside my small one-room apartment. “I came home and there was no home.”

  Ms. B, who had been sitting on the lone barstool I owned, repositioned herself so she could stand on the stool. At barely two and a half feet tall, even adding the stool’s height to hers, the small brownie wasn’t quite as tall as me, but what she lacked in size, she made up for in personality. The small fae woman was an intimidating force to be reckoned with, and right now she was angry enough that her quill-like hair bristled and the items on the counter behind her rattled with her displeasure. I didn’t think that anger was directed at me, but it was still there, below the surface and very close to erupting.

  Unfortunately, I didn’t have news that was likely to calm her. I just hoped she didn’t go full boggart when I shared it. Judging by the way the cabinets closest to her kept clattering open and closed, I wasn’t holding my breath.

  Looking around the room, I spotted Icelynne, a ghost who had once been a handmaiden to the former queen. She’d been haunting my castle since I’d helped find her killer several months ago. She and Roy must have both been out of the castle at sunset. Thank goodness. I had no idea what they’d been doing—Roy fancied himself an unofficial PI at Tongues for the Dead, but Icelynne rarely left the castle grounds. Wherever they’d been, I was thankful they hadn’t been dragged to a place with no plane for them to exist upon.

  “I’m not sure where the castle is,” I said, and the cabinet door behind Ms. B slammed hard enough that the wood creaked, making me wince before I continued. “Someone bombed the Bloom today. The amaranthine tree was destroyed and at sunset, it seems all the pockets of Faerie must have . . . moved. We are currently cut off from Faerie.”

  The rattling and banging suddenly ceased, and the silence in the room was almost worse. Ms. B stared at me for a long moment, her dark eyes searching for some other meaning to my words. Then she covered her face with her small hands. She made no sound, but her shoulders quivered as she sank down into a slump on the stool. Roy paced the confined space of the small kitchenette, his features pinched with his thoughts, though he looked more intrigued than worried. Icelynne was the least affected by the news, her head cocked slightly to the side, studying me as she hovered silently on her snowflake wings.

  “Who would do that?” she asked, sounding more appalled by the fact that someone had dared attack Faerie than concerned about the ramifications. Of course, as a ghost, she’d already lost everything. My castle had been as close to returning to Faerie as she’d ever likely get.

  I opened my mouth to answer. Closed it. Ryese was still the first name that popped in my mind, but why would he have attacked the other courts as well? Maybe I was wrong. Could this be a terrorist act coming from outside Faerie?

  “So what are we going to do to fix it?” Roy asked, filling the silence.

  And that was why I’d never exorcised Roy out of existence. Okay, I wouldn’t have done that anyway, but out of everyone I’d talked to since the explosion who’d heard about the lost door, he was the first who asked how it could be fixed. The fae all seemed to already be mourning the loss of Nekros. My father had certainly not been any beacon of optimism. But Roy, my awkward ghostly sidekick, not only asked how to fix it, but said “we,” including himself in whatever plan I might be formulating. I could have hugged him again.

  I didn’t. It had been weird enough the first time I did it. Once in a night was more than too many. Still, I appreciated the support. Now if only I had an answer or at least an idea. But I didn’t.

  “I’m not sure,” I said and sank onto the edge of my bed because with Ms. B on my only stool, it was the only place to sit. “I need to reach Falin in Faerie. The winter court is apparently locked down again. I’m not sure about the other seasons. Spring’s and summer’s doors were also attacked. Maybe fall’s as well,” I added, realizing I’d never heard back from Agent Bleek on that front. “So I guess the first step is figuring out how to establish contact with Faerie. On this side of the door several courts suffered attacks to their doors. What happened inside? After that, well, I guess it depends on what we learn, but I think we need to find a new amaranthine tree.” And regardless of what my father thought, I had found one before. It was out there; I just had to find it again. Or figure out how it had been propagated.

  “That’s not much of a plan,” Icelynne said and I frowned at her. Not that I disagreed.

  “Maybe the first part of the plan should be getting some sleep. You look beat, Al,” Roy said.

  He had a point there.

  The ghosts didn’t need sleep, so Roy and Icelynne said their good-byes and arm in arm sank deeper into the land of the dead because I’d long ago forbidden Roy from hanging out in my room while I was getting ready for bed. Not that I had much getting ready to do. My little room-over-the-garage apartment hadn’t been an actual residence in months. I’d left some things here, like my electronics since my castle didn’t have electricity, and all my mismatched dishes and furniture as they hadn’t been needed in the enchanted Faerie castle. But my clothes? Toiletries? Those had long ago been moved to the castle. Which meant they’d all vanished at sunset.

  Ms. B was still crying silently on the stool, and I didn’t know what to say or do to comfort the small brownie. I would have offered her chocolate if I had any, but my stash of candy was also in the castle. So I let her be and took the inner stairs down to the main part of the house.

  The main floor was quiet and mostly dark. Caleb had left a lamp on in the living room, likely knowing I’d come downstairs. I found PC, my tiny Chinese Crested dog, curled up in a gray and white ball on the couch. He looked up as I walked close and then jumped to his feet, yipping happily.

  “Shhh. You’ll wake everyone,” I whispered, picking him up.

  He wiggled happily, tail wagging. I hugged him close, his hairless body almost too warm, but right now, that was exactly what I needed. After accepting at least a dozen dog kisses on my chin, I set him down and headed back for my loft, PC at my heels.

  Ms. B was no longer on the stool when I reached the room. I looked around, alarmed. The small closet door stood open, and when I stepped around it, I found Ms. B standing on the edge of the middle shelf, shaking her head as she dug through the spare linens.

  “They’re all musty from disuse,” she said, her voice somewhere between disgust and dismay. She snatched a thick comforter, pulling it free and giving it a vigorous shake all in one motion. A prickle of magic filled the air, and I guessed the comforter was now fresh and clean.

  I considered repeating some of the points several of the fae had made on why magic and glamour needed to be conserved, but brownies were a tidy and fastidious lot. My musty linen closet not only provided a distraction from the events of the day, but I doubted she would bed down in anything less than brownie-approved clean.

  “Do you want my bed?” I asked as she refolded the large comforter with a flick of her wrist, the heavy material defying gravity to arrange itself neatly. “I can head downstairs to the guest room.”

  Ms. B gave a dismissive wave of her hand. “Your bed is much too big and open for my liking,” she said, hopping from the shelf with the folded comforter in her arms. She’d added a pillowcase as well, though no pillow, and the two-item stack was taller than she was. That didn’t slow her down. She scurried across the small kitchenette, her green quill-like hair dragging behind her.

  She stopped in front of one of the l
ower cabinets, and it opened on its own. Ms. B carried in her pile of linens, arranging the thick comforter on the bottom of the cabinet like she was creating a den. She didn’t even have to rearrange anything to do it. While I’d left all my kitchen gear in the apartment, I hadn’t actually ever owned much—I was a ramen noodles or nuked hot pocket kind of a chef.

  Once the small brownie had arranged the comforter into a cushy nest, she tucked herself in with the pillowcase as a blanket. “Good night,” she said in her gruff voice, and then the cabinet door closed without anyone touching it.

  Okay then. A cabinet didn’t look like somewhere I’d want to sleep, but then I wasn’t a two-foot-tall brownie. I splashed some water on my face and made a mental note to buy some essentials. I should have picked some up while I’d been shopping for the FIB agents, but I hadn’t thought about it. Then I slid off my boots, placed my dagger under my pillow, and settled into bed, as I didn’t have anything to change into.

  Then I lay there, staring at the darkness of the ceiling. It was late. The day had been more than exhausting, and yet my mind wouldn’t stop. I had no idea what to do, but I needed to do something. How was I going to reach Falin? I considered calling my father and seeing if he would help me, but I doubted he would. If he’d been willing to contact Faerie for me, he likely would have offered when I’d seen him earlier. And even if he were willing, I doubted he’d contact Falin for me. He seemed to hate the knight-turned-king for reasons he’d never expounded upon and he’d been more than willing to accept the locked doors to mean Falin had lost the throne. No, my father would likely contact Dugan . . .

  I sat up in bed. Dugan owed me no small amount of favors, and I didn’t need my father’s help to try to contact the Shadow Prince. He’d told me once that every secret made its way to the shadowed halls. That there were fae in the court who did nothing but listen to the secrets that were whispered in darkness. I’d tried calling for Dugan before, the last time the winter court had locked, and he hadn’t come. But, to be fair, his own court was dealing with a lot at the time, and Nekros had been as locked as the door to Faerie. I had no idea if that was the case this time, or if Faerie pulling out of Nekros would also sever the ties from darkness to the shadow court, but it couldn’t hurt to try.

  I flipped on a lamp so that the room was cast in an artificial orange glow that made all the shadows grow long and dark. Then I climbed out of bed, looking for the deepest of the shadows. With my bad eyes, they all looked pretty deep, but the corner of the room, where the dresser and TV blocked the light of the small lamp, seemed my best option.

  “Hello,” I said, leaning into the dark shadow. “I need to speak to Prince Dugan of the shadow court.”

  I felt ridiculous, talking to the shadow, but I had to try. If this didn’t work, I’d have to go to my father.

  Several minutes passed with nothing happening except PC deciding I’d lost my mind and abandoning me for the comfort of the bed. Okay, maybe I needed to try something different. Maybe just talking to a shadow wouldn’t gather the listeners’ attention. Maybe it actually had to be a secret. They were the court of shadows and secrets, after all. Dreams too, though that part of their realm had been cut off.

  “I have a secret. I’m in way too deep with this case, and I’m not sure what to do. I could use some help and I’m willing to trade one of the favors Prince Dugan owes me for some assistance.” Okay, not much of a secret. Anyone who’d been paying attention would have picked up on the fact that I was floundering.

  I waited, but nothing happened. After several minutes, I sighed and stepped back. What had I expected?

  I trudged back to bed, but I didn’t turn off the light. Not yet. My brain was still way too busy. Instead I dragged out my laptop and opened up an Internet browser. Searching for the latest news headlines from across the country proved that all four courts had suffered bombings today.

  Humans tended to think of the FIB as some huge fae conglomeration. That was hardly the case. Each court policed its own territories, which included those in the mortal realm, but they didn’t collaborate with other courts. The lack of any interagency communication meant my FIB agents could not provide me with any contacts to FIB offices in other courts.

  But that was what the Internet was for.

  A cursory search suggested that summer had no FIB offices in their territory, at least none that listed any contact information online. Fall had a single number listed for an office located in the folded space where their door was located, so I grabbed my phone and dialed the number. It was ridiculously late, but most likely someone was working the phones, especially if their day had gone like ours had.

  “Hi, yes, this is Special Agent Alex Craft with the Nekros City–based FIB office. I’d like to speak to the special agent in charge,” I said to the perky-sounding woman who answered the phone by asking how my call should be directed. Who was perky at nearly two in the morning?

  There was a long pause on the other end of the line. I wondered for a moment if she’d redirected me without a word, but then, in a far less bubbly voice, she said, “Nekros is winter territory.”

  “I’m aware.”

  “You’ve reached an office in fall.”

  “I’m aware of that as well. May I speak to the agent in charge?”

  There was another pause, and then, “This is fall.” She put emphasis on the season, as if I hadn’t heard her the first time.

  “Yes. And the news reported that there was an explosion at a fae-owned establishment there today. Winter was also attacked today. Our door was destroyed. Did fall’s door survive?”

  The woman on the other end of the phone squeaked, a legitimate, high-pitched animal-like sound, and I wondered what type of fae she might be. “Winter agent, if you would like to speak to someone in fall, you will have to have your king contact ours for approval,” she snapped, and then the line clicked.

  She’d hung up on me.

  I searched out a phone number for spring next, but no one answered. I saved the number to try again, but I didn’t hold out a lot of hope after my interaction with the fall office. We were quite likely all stranded on this continent together. It would be better if we could all work together, but I seemed to be the only one of that opinion.

  Chapter 13

  I woke to an explosion of pain in my head. I sat straight up, gasping as if I hadn’t been breathing. The room around me was dark, and I blinked at the unfamiliar shadows before I remembered that I wasn’t in the castle, I was in my old loft, in Caleb’s house.

  A weight seemed to press all the air out of me, even as I sucked down huge gulping breaths. At my side, PC looked up from the warm ball he’d tucked himself into beside my hip. He cocked his head, his eyes only half open but his ears up, erect and listening for danger. He clearly didn’t hear anything that alarmed him, because he looked at me again, as if curious why I’d woken him.

  Then the wards on the house fell. I stiffened. That pounding headache was still hammering at the back of my head, but the familiar feel of the house wards had vanished. They hadn’t broken. There had been no feedback or snap of them overloading. They’d just stopped.

  From the cabinets, I heard a gruff curse and a loud thump. PC jumped to his feet, but he just stared, not moving from his warm spot on the bed.

  “Ms. B? You okay?”

  “Why do I feel like I’m drowning?” her gruff voice asked from the depths of my cabinet.

  Yeah, that was a good question as I was feeling it too. I started to answer that I didn’t know, and then my gaze snapped toward my window. It was still pretty dark behind the blinds, but it was beginning to lighten.

  “It’s dawn.”

  But the wards were Aetheric magic. Not quite witch magic, as they’d been created by a fae, but they weren’t glamour. So why had they failed?

  Now that the actual moment of transition between night to day had passed, the headache
was fading. Theoretically, there should have been a rush of magic flooding back into the world, but I’d never been able to feel it, and from what the fae around me had said at sunset, it hadn’t happened then. I was guessing it wasn’t happening now.

  I waited, letting the lingering pain between my eyes dissipate. Soft snoring sounds drifted from the cabinet—Ms. B had fallen back asleep after dawn passed. But the wards weren’t reactivated. The house was silent, still. There didn’t seem to be anyone or anything attacking us. Was Caleb okay? Had something happened?

  I pulled back the comforter and slid silently out of bed. Then I hesitated. The house was dark in the dawn light—far too dark for me to see much of anything. I grabbed my dagger from under my pillow and opened my senses. If there was someone lurking in the dark, my glowing eyes would make me an easy target, but at least I’d be able to see. A flashlight would have made me even more obvious, and wouldn’t help me see nearly as well.

  With my psyche seeing more than my physical eyes, I crept down the inner stairs, aware of every creak in the wood. PC didn’t even try to follow me, just watched me leave from his spot on the bed.

  The house was quiet in the early morning stillness as I reached the main level. The stairs emptied me into the living room, near the door to the garage Caleb had transformed into a studio. The main controls for the wards were spelled into an ornately carved stone relief hanging on the wall beside the front door. Caleb was not only an acclaimed wardsmith, he was an artist, though with my mind peering across multiple planes, the sculpture looked very different. The intricate forest scene, with its mischievous sprites, dancing nymphs, and merrymaking green men, was chipped and cracked. The entire sculpture pulsed with a soft pink glow, not magic, but emotion. An emotion strong enough that it had imbued the entire sculpture as Caleb had carved it. I didn’t fully understand that plane, I only caught glimpses of it occasionally. What I didn’t see in the statue was any Aetheric energy. The thing should have been glowing with tightly woven spells that powered the house’s ward network, but the rosy emotional glow was the only thing illuminating the statue. Magically, it was completely inert. Just marble.