The dart looked innocuous enough. Just a bit of thin, dull metal no longer than my pinkie nail. But it was far from harmless. If Ryese had managed a clean shot at the queen, and she had died, the small dart could have easily been missed, the blame for her unknown cause of death easily falling on her feared bloody hands.
Patting it into the center of a small snowball like a deadly core, I climbed to my feet. Then I had to wait a moment as my vision swam. I braced my feet, trying to avoid crashing back to my butt in the snow. Deep breath. Two.
“Falin,” I yelled.
He stopped, looking up from where he was in the process of dragging Ryese in front of the queen. The slighter man thrashed in Falin’s grasp, the smugness now absent from his face as more and more bloody, dead versions of himself appeared around the queen. For her part, the queen seemed to have forgotten everything but the multiplying bodies, her distress feeding the drug and hallucinations.
“Catch,” I yelled, tossing the snowball to Falin as gently as I could. It still crumbled as he caught it, but the dart remained cushioned in a small layer of snow.
I’d been working without a plan, thinking only that the dart needed to get back inside the dampening effect of the blowgun.
Falin had other ideas.
He drove the thin bit of metal into Ryese’s palm. The other fae screamed, the sound a high-pitched cry of pain and fear.
The skin around the dart immediately darkened, the glow in his skin dampening. Whereas the tendrils crawling under my flesh were a cloudy gray, his spread out in ink-black lines. Falin had once told me he’d been switched during infancy so that he’d not only learn about the human world, but also gain some resistance to all the metals, especially iron, found in mortal reality. I’d also grown up outside of Faerie, so I had some resistance as well. But Ryese was a pampered noble, and the iron poisoning shot through his flesh, creating an elaborate spiderweb of darkness across Ryese’s palm.
“I’m removing this poison from our court,” Falin told the queen as he hauled the howling man to his feet.
The queen’s fevered gaze swept over Ryese, taking in the darkness spreading over his skin. Then she nodded and leaned closer. “If you are alive, my favorite nephew, blood of my blood, my Ryese, then you are banished from this court and all my territory. As long as I rule here, no door will open for you in winter. Here witness it, all of you.”
Ryese’s pitiful cries took on a new level of frenzy, but the words had the ring of a binding oath to them, and I felt the magic of Faerie shift, acknowledging the queen’s proclamation even as the huddled fae murmured their witness to her words. Falin gave no heed to the other fae’s pleading, but dragged him to where two winter guards stood waiting.
“See him to the edge of our territory in the mortal realm,” he told the guards. They nodded, and then hauled Ryese out of the room. As soon as he passed through the doorway, the sound of his cries fell off abruptly.
Falin turned back toward me. I tried to smile at him, because we’d won. The alchemist had been caught and dealt with. The queen couldn’t deny me my tie to Faerie now. But my face seemed frozen, unable to respond to my prompting.
I realized I wasn’t cold anymore. I didn’t even hurt, though the gray tendrils were now circling down to my elbow. All I felt was tired. So very bone-weary tired.
I tried to sit, not caring that the only place to do so was the snow, but my legs gave out halfway down and I crashed onto my butt. I didn’t even have enough energy to yell.
I lay where I fell, my eyes fluttering closed. The last things I saw were the three Deaths hovering over me. Then the world went dark.
Chapter 34
I drifted in and out of a fevered sleep. Sometimes the Deaths were there, yelling at me. Other times I woke to Falin curled around me, clutching me tight. More than once the world was lost in endless snow. Others I was burning alive from iron spikes driven through my back.
Or maybe all were dreams.
When I opened my eyes, finally sure I was truly awake, I sat up. I was in a large four-poster bed I’d never seen before, wearing a silky gown I knew wasn’t mine, but at least it wasn’t sleeting.
“Well, I guess this means I survived.”
“Astute observation,” a voice said from the other side of the room.
I jumped, whirling around. Falin leaned against the doorframe, watching me, a small crooked smile touching his lips. He pushed away from the wall, striding toward the bed, and I became very aware of how thin and airy the material of the gown felt. Was it see-through?
“Where are my clothes?” I asked, gathering the royal blue comforter and clutching it to my chest, which earned me an amused—and knowing—smile. Okay, yes, he’d seen all I had to display, but we were just friends now, and I was dating Death.
The thought of Death made me shiver as I remembered the three fake versions the drug had conjured from my fears. And they were my own fears. Magnified maybe, but the issues they addressed were real. Death and I needed to sit down and have a long talk.
But first I needed my clothes.
“They were ruined. I convinced them to spare your boots.” He nodded to a spot on the floor near the foot of the bed. “And it looks like your brownie has visited while you were sleeping, because they were not in that good of a shape when the healers peeled them off you. And that gown is spun from spider silk; it is a lot more substantial than it feels.”
Oh. I dropped the comforter and slid to the edge of the bed to reclaim my boots. He was right—they were in better shape now than the last time I’d put them on. Which had to mean Ms. B had stopped in. And if she’d left the castle . . .
I realized I felt better than I had in weeks. I was more than just healed and free of the drug, I was energized. “Did the queen grant me my tie to Faerie?”
Falin nodded. “You have a year and a day of independent status.”
A year to figure out what to do next. It wasn’t a long-term solution, but it bought me time.
“So are you guarding the door for my protection or to prevent me from leaving?” I asked, and Falin winced, but it was a legitimate question.
“Maybe I’m hiding, avoiding more duels?”
“Have you been fighting a lot?”
He gave a half shrug, as if the answer wasn’t important, but said, “In the days immediately following Ryese’s banishment, several opportunistic fae both in our court and in others thought to take advantage while the queen was both emotionally off balance and still mentally and magically impaired by Ryese’s drug. Since the effects of the Glitter have worn off and the court has begun to recover, the challenges have dropped off.”
Days? Oh, no. How many days had I already lost of my year and a day of independent status? “How long was I recovering from the drug?”
As if reading my thoughts, Falin shook his head. “Don’t worry. Your time is calculated in the mortal realm, as that is where you’ll reside. You signed in at the Bloom, right?”
That seemed like so very long ago. But I had. As long as the doors weren’t completely evil, I’d lost no more than an evening. Smiling, I pulled on my boots and checked the placement of my dagger in its holster. As I did, a glimmer of silver on my inner wrist caught my attention.
I lifted my hand to eye level. An intricate, silver snowflake twinkled from under my skin just below where my hand and arm met.
“Uh . . . ?”
“Your tie to Faerie,” Falin said, noticing my dismay. “It marks you as an independent of the winter court. And before you ask, no, it can’t be covered with glamour.”
I scowled at the very noticeable snowflake. “Caleb’s an independent. I’ve never seen a mark like this on his wrist.”
Falin winced. “Yeah, well, usually the queen places the marks in more discreet locations, and typically they are smaller.”
I stared at him. The Winter Queen had visibly claime
d me. The snowflake may as well be an ownership tag.
At my look, Falin lifted his hands. “Hey, I did stop her from putting it in the middle of your forehead.”
Okay, yeah, that would have been worse. I’d have to find a way to cover it. I’d never been big on any jewelry except the charm bracelet carrying my shields, but maybe I’d have to find a nice cuff bracelet to avoid having to explain why I had a magical snowflake tattoo.
I sighed and stood, stretching. My stomach gave out a low growl, informing me it had been neglected for far too long.
“So your earlier response wasn’t actually an answer. What kind of guard are you?” My stomach rumbled again. “And is there somewhere to get food?”
Falin laughed and threw an arm around my shoulders, leading me to the door. “We’ll get some food at the Bloom before I take you home.”
Sounds like a plan to me.
We had a companionable meal, which was laid out like a lavish feast. I didn’t know the last time I’d eaten—though I had vague memories of being spooned some sort of gruel while in my drug and iron-fevered sleep—so I dug in with relish. Now that the queen was sane—sane-ish?—and the winter court was hospitable again, the court fae were no longer hiding out in the pocket spaces that connected to winter’s territory. Which in turn meant the regulars were back in the bar. I didn’t talk to any of them, but it was good to see the familiar faces. And, I guess I was one of them now. Just another independent getting a sip of Faerie’s nectar before slipping back to the harsh mortal reality.
While we ate, Falin filled me in on what had happened after I’d lost consciousness. Only two things of importance had occurred: the queen granting me independent status, which I obviously already knew about, and the amaranthine sapling had disappeared. No one was sure if Faerie had moved it, or if someone had stolen the young tree. Falin and his FIB agents had been looking into it, but so far no leads. They also hadn’t been able to track down Jenny Greenteeth.
That worried me. Both because the bogeyman creeped me out, and because I had to wonder if there was more going on in this situation. Had she been guarding the tree? And if she had been, where was it supposed to lead? If Ryese had simply planned to take over the court from his aunt, he wouldn’t have needed another door to Faerie in territory that already belonged to winter.
Was he working with another court? Falin had mentioned that the Queen of Light was the Winter Queen’s sister—was she Ryese’s mother? Hers had been the only court not to provide challengers for the winter throne. Falin had indicated that had been a show of loyalty between the two rulers, but maybe the Light Queen hadn’t needed to as her son, her ace, was behind the issues and working on positioning himself onto the throne with none the wiser?
Falin looked more than a little troubled by the idea when I suggested it. Neither of us believed Ryese had been clever enough to create Glitter on his own. Had he received help from the light court? Was that why the user’s imagination influenced how the glamour manifested in reality? The imagination was the domain of the light fae.
It was a troubling thought, but one for another day. Today I wanted to go home, see my dog, and check on my friends. I’d sent a message to Rianna when I first entered the Bloom, but she hadn’t answered, which likely meant she wasn’t currently in Faerie. Maybe she’d gone to the mortal realm once my tie to Faerie solidified and she started feeling better? At least I hoped that was the case.
After so long in Faerie, it felt odd to walk through the VIP door and into mortal reality, but it wasn’t the draining sensation it had been before I’d been granted independent status. I rolled my shoulders and turned toward the bouncer. It was the same slightly dim troll who’d been working when I’d entered with the queen.
“What’s the date and time?” I asked.
He gave me a confused look, and held up his wrist where he wore a small clock as a watch. I couldn’t help but smile. I’d lost only four hours in Faerie. Sometimes the freaky doors actually worked for me. Grinning, I all but skipped as I made my way to the front door.
My phone beeped as Falin and I walked out of the Bloom, indicating a new voice mail message. I dug it out of my purse and glanced at the display.
Caleb.
I played the message as I followed Falin toward his car.
“Al, what did you do now?” Caleb’s agitated voice asked in the message. “Why did Rianna just walk out of a castle that materialized in my backyard?”
Oops. Apparently, now that I had my independent status, Faerie had moved my castle out of limbo and into my new territory: the mortal realm.
This was going to take a little explaining. . . .
Read on for a special preview of the next Alex Craft novel by Kalayna Price, coming from Roc Books in 2017.
The first time I realized I could feel corpses, I had nightmares for a week. I was a child at the time, so that was understandable. These days I was accustomed to the clammy reach of the grave that lifted from dead bodies. To the eerie feeling of my own innate magic, responding and filling me with the unrequested knowledge of how recently a person died, their gender, and the approximate age they’d been at death. When I anticipated encountering a corpse, I tightened my mental shields and worked at keeping my magic at bay, but usually that was only necessary at places like graveyards, the morgue, and funeral homes—places one might expect to find a body.
I never expected to feel a corpse walking across the street in the middle of the Magic Quarter.
“Alex? I’ve lost you, haven’t I?” Tamara, one of my best friends and my current lunch mate, asked. She sighed, twisting in her seat to scan the sidewalk beyond the small café. “Huh. Which one is he? I may be married and knocked up, but I know a good-looking man when I see one, and, girl, I don’t see one. Who are you staring at?”
“That guy,” I said, nodding my head at a man in a brown suit crossing the street.
Tamara glanced at the squat middle-aged man who was more than a little soft in the middle, and then she cocked an eyebrow at me. “I’ve seen what you have at home, so I take it this is business. Did you bring one of your cases to our lunch?”
I ignored the “at home” comment, as that situation was more than a little complicated, and shook my head. “My case docket is clear,” I said absently, and let my senses stretch. When I concentrated, I could feel grave essences reaching from corpses in my vicinity. All corpses. There were decades of dead and decaying rats in the sewer below the streets and smaller creatures like insects that barely even made a blip on my radar, but like called to like, and my magic zeroed in on the man.
“He’s dead,” I said, and even to me my voice sounded unsure.
Tamara blinked at me, likely waiting for me to reveal the joke, but when I pushed out of my seat as the man turned up the street, she grabbed my arm. “I’m the lead medical examiner for Nekros City, and I can tell you with ninety-nine point nine percent certainty that the man walking down the street is very much alive.” She put extra emphasis on the word “walking,” and on any other day, I would have agreed with her.
My own eyes agreed with her. But my magic, that part of me that touched the grave, that could piece together shades from the memories left in every cell of a body, disagreed. That man, walking or not, was a corpse. Granted, he was a fresh one—the way he felt to my magic told me he couldn’t have been dead more than an hour. But he was dead.
So how the hell had he just walked into a shop specializing in high-end magical components?
After dropping enough crumpled dollars on the table to cover my portion of the bill and tip, I sprinted toward the shop across the street. Behind me, Tamara grumbled under her breath, but after a moment I heard her chair slide back as she pushed away from the table. She hadn’t quite caught up as I reached the door to the shop.
The shop’s wards tingled along my skin as I stepped through the threshold. I’d never been in this shop before. The
types of magic I could create didn’t require any outside components aside from the occasional storage vessel, like the silver charms dangling from my bracelet—not that I’d created most of those either. I sucked at traditional spell casting. But my ability to sense magic was acute, and the wards on the doors had some hard-core theft deterrents that prickled at the edge of my senses. Of course, most magic that used components required items that were rare or hard to acquire, or were just plain dangerous, so it probably wasn’t surprising that such extensive wards were in place.
Not everyone could feel wards though. Clearly the corpse I’d followed in didn’t comprehend the extent of the shop’s theft-deterrent system.
I’d entered only minutes behind him, but he almost barreled into me as I stepped through the door. His shoulder brushed me at the same moment he hit the antitheft wards, and several things happened at once. The wards snapped to life, blaring a warning to the shopkeeper to let him know something was being stolen. Simultaneously, a theft-deterring paralytic spell sparked across the would-be thief, locking his body—and the merchandise—in place.
Unfortunately, while the wards were powerful, they weren’t terribly specific. Where his shoulder touched mine, the spell jumped from him to me, immobilizing me as well. Under normal circumstances, that would majorly suck. Under these circumstances? It was so much worse.
My magic still identified him as a corpse. I could feel the grave essence lifting off him, clawing at me. My mental shields were strong, but my magic liked dead things. A lot. And I hadn’t raised a shade in nearly a week, so my magic was looking for release. Typically I made a point not to touch the dead. Now I couldn’t get away.
My magic battered against the inside of my shields, looking for chinks in my mental walls that it could jump through. Fighting the spell holding me was a waste of energy—I was well and truly caught—so I focused all of my attention on holding back my own magic. But I could feel the chilled fingers of the grave sliding under my skin, worming its way into me and making paths for my magic to leach into the animated corpse frozen against me.
Grave Visions Page 31