A shaft of light sliced across the tunnel ahead, seeping from a gap at the bottom of Reign’s chamber door. Flutters patted low in my stomach. Nerves, mostly. Or so I told myself. I was about to push the door open when female whispers brushed my ear. Reaching for the latch, my hand froze.
I’ve missed you …
Shay!
My elation didn’t last. The whispers said more than words, they spoke of intimacy. I pressed my hand to the wall beside the door and peered through the gap.
Reign sat back on his tattered couch, shirt open, revealing a glimpse of the lightly bronzed chest I’d often fantasized about touching. He’d draped one arm across the back of the cushions. His other hand gripped Shay’s thigh while she straddled him. Reign had hiked her white silk dress high up her thighs. She’d thrown her pale shoulders back, and her waterfall of platinum-blond hair spilled around her.
The flutters in my stomach turned to rocks.
Undulating candlelight licked over them both, casting shadows that danced about the room. I blinked, heartbeat loud over my thoughts. Reign’s beautiful eyes burned with lust and drank in every stunning inch of her. And she relished his gaze, lips curled into a voluptuous smile.
She bowed forward and captured his mouth with hers. Riding her hand up his chest—his face. She sank her fingers into his hair and held him still. I had kissed him like that; as though starved of him. I knew what it felt like, what he felt like, hard and soft at once; how he tasted, sweet and forbidden.
I swallowed and closed my eyes. I should go … But I didn’t move. Their shared breath and the rustle of clothing were the only noise. That, and the whispers. She told him how she loved him, how she’d been lost without him. She’d missed him. Over and over; the same words I’d wanted to say to him.
Turn away …
I opened my eyes, feeling the burn of unshed tears. He’d cupped her behind, and hauled her forward, grinding her against him. He sucked in a hiss through his teeth and pushed off the back of the couch. His kisses fluttered at her neck. How many times had I imagined what it would be like to be touched like that; for his lips to brush whispers against my skin? She bowed her head and nipped at the spider tattoo low on his neck. The very place I’d dreamed about swirling my tongue.
Walk away, before it hurts too much.
He clamped her by the waist and turned her onto her back in one quick movement. She hooked a leg around his hip and held him close. He reared up and tore off his shirt, only to fall on her with renewed hunger. Warm candlelight pooled in the smooth arch of his lower back and licked over taut muscles. Shay dug her nails into his biceps and raked hard, eliciting a deep, basal groan from Reign. A groan the likes of which I’d never heard from him. A sound born of need.
I swallowed and pulled away from the door, shutting out the sounds from inside. It was fine. Everything was fine. I walked back the way I’d come, tripping over a few unseen obstacles and stumbling against others until I’d staggered into my dull little chamber and closed the door behind me.
I touched my face with my fingertips, surprised to find tears there. Everything is fine. With a few angry swipes, I brushed the silent salty droplets off my cheeks and glared at the girl in the glass: Alina, the American girl, the monster’s dream. Everything was fine. I didn’t need Reign for what was to come. I didn’t need anyone. I could do this alone.
Chapter Four
I woke gasping for breath, my vision blurred by blood and the flash of blades, with the queen’s dying screams echoing inside my head. Dreams. Just dreams. I could have only been asleep for minutes, but the horror had found me, as it always did.
I blinked up at the paint peeling from my chamber’s ceiling. Under’s creaks and sighs gnawed at my restless thoughts. Once the dreams faded, images of Reign and Shay took their place. I couldn’t shake the memory of what I’d seen, of the general’s looming deadline, so I gave up trying to and padded barefoot to a chamber set aside for target practice. The fae didn’t need to work out. Their genetics kept them in top condition, but some had set up a training area. Reign had a warrior’s background, and I suspected he wasn’t the only one. I didn’t know much about Faerie, but I did know its people were fierce. There had been battles. Reign had fought in one, and deserted. So he’d told me. That was back when we were talking.
Thoughts of Reign did little to temper the disappointment and acidic betrayal simmering in my veins. I flicked on the lights and checked out the dummy targets staggered down the range. The fae had taken most of their weapons when they’d fled, but they’d left a few throwing knives and a rack of notched training swords.
Collecting the knives, I tested their weight in my hands. I missed my daggers. The daggers Kael had taken hadn’t started out as mine. I’d stolen them from an FA warrior I’d killed, hunted down the queen with them, and carved out the new me. I considered them mine—the only two things I owned, reminders of what I was capable of. Now Kael had them.
They would do for now, but I was getting my daggers back, even if I had to pry them out of Kael’s dead hands. I’d earned them.
I tried out a few flicks of the wrist and set myself up behind the line. My first few attempts went wide. But as I collected the blades and tried again, my aim sharpened. I’d cherished my new memories like trinkets of sentimental value. Now I had one I’d rather wipe from my mind. Reign and Shay. Her grip on his arm, her kisses on his lips. I knew I couldn’t have him like that. I knew that, but it hadn’t stopped me wanting him. I had memories of being intimate, but it was lies. Stories to flesh out Alina and her make-believe life. The times I had touched Reign, kissed him, and things had gotten heated, he’d pulled away fast enough to leave me cold and bereft. That wasn’t even the worst of it. The two of them, they’d looked perfect. Beautiful. Dark and light, night and day, both so stunning, so damned perfect. They were meant for each other. How could I ever think Reign might look at me like he had her? I was human on the outside. Clumsy, nineteen-year-old Alina. Talks too much. Asks too many questions. I wasn’t even human. A construct. A thing. I had a heartbeat but didn’t even know if it was real or just my own screwed-up memory telling me how a heart should beat.
I collected my knives and threw them one, two, three at the dummy. Again. One, two, three. I had to get out of Under, get away from Reign, find Becky, Andrews’s missing sister. That I could do. I would have to return to Kael. Reign wouldn’t talk to me, but Kael had the answers to all my questions. What did it mean to be fae? What awaited a construct? He’d said he’d help me “reach my true potential.” What better way to find out more than to do so from within the FA headquarters?
A smile dashed across my lips. The knives flew, some even hit close to where I’d aimed. One, two, three. General Kael wasn’t a fool. He must have been suspicious of my motives, and my words, but he would want to know what remained of his queen. That little nugget he couldn’t resist. If—when I went back—I’d make it believable. Because if Kael had taken Becky, bespelled her, perhaps even held her against her will, I’d be the one to end it—end him.
One, two—
A noise behind me—shoes scuffing on the ground. I spun and launched the knife—three. Reign jerked right. The knife strummed in the wall behind where his head had been a moment before. He arched an eyebrow, utterly unruffled, and plucked the knife free. “I count myself lucky you no longer want to kill me.”
He strode closer and held out the knife.
I hadn’t wanted to kill him right up until I’d seen him about to screw Shay. Now though, I sure wanted to rage at him. To demand why he’d let me believe I had a chance. I took the knife but didn’t meet his gaze. He was wearing different clothes. His shirt gaped at the collar, revealing that tantalizing tattoo. Turning my back on him I tossed the knife and missed the dummy completely. The knife clattered to the floor and skidded to the back of the room.
“I’m going away for a few days.” I waited for him to ask where—to care—but he stayed quiet. He couldn’t stop me. Maybe he didn’
t want to. My bitter smile twisted as I strode down the range to collect the knives.
“Shay’s okay.”
My stride faltered. I hid it by bending down and scooping up the knife and made sure to plaster a sweet Alina smile on my face before facing him. “Good.” My voice came out all wrong. Flat. False. But he didn’t seem to notice, not least because his gaze skipped about the room, at anything but me.
“She was laying low—”
“Understandable.”
“The FA wanted to talk to anyone involved in the events at the Dome. After the things she’d seen—”
“I don’t care.” My jaw ached from maintaining the smile. “She’s well. That’s great.” His sharp eyes settled on me. He read my stance, my expression. The corner of his lips ticked. “There’s something I’ve got to do,” I added, sounding a lot like Andrews had before he’d launched himself at Kael.
He arched a brow at my vagueness. “Can I help in any way?”
“No.” I couldn’t stand this. I didn’t want to be here, with him. “I’ve got it covered.” I marched on by him, hoping to get out of there before I said or did something I’d regret.
“Alina.” He reached for my arm.
Veering away, I hated how my name on his lips always scattered shivers through me. “Don’t.”
“Wait.”
Hesitating, I paused in the doorway, hand gripping the frame. He looked at me. I knew because I could feel his gaze settle on my back. But he would never look at me like he did her. “What about us?” I whispered, not daring to look over my shoulder. I didn’t want to see the disgust or surprise or disbelief, or whatever expression he’d give me.
“There was no us. There was never going to be an us.” His words hurt to hear. My unreal heart stuttered in my chest. “There can never be an us. You’re too much like her.”
My lips turned down in a savage grimace. I shoved off the frame and somehow managed to walk away and not run. He called my name, said it like a curse, and I strode on, pace confident, head up, throwing knives clutched in a white-knuckle grip.
I walked right out of Under and had no intention of ever going back.
Chapter Five
The road outside Chancery Lane glistened beneath streetlights, and passing cars hissed through standing water. I ducked out of the early-morning mist and into the coffee shop right by the station steps. A quick glance at the clock behind the bistro counter told me it was 7:30. Holland Park was just over ten minutes from Chancery Lane by subway, but I had a call to make before returning to Kael without Reign.
I plucked my cheap cell phone out of my pocket and hovered my thumb over Andrews’s contact details on the display. Doubt dragged out the seconds. With the warmth of the coffee shop, the clatter and grind of the coffee machines, and subdued early-morning chatter from a handful of customers, tiredness wrapped me in a bubble of safety. What if I walked away? From everything. From Under, from Reign, the FA, London? I didn’t own anything. There was nothing keeping me here. No, that wasn’t strictly true. I had guilt. A whole ton of guilt sitting on my shoulders. I couldn’t leave Andrews, not without knowing if he was going to be okay. I just couldn’t turn my back on him. Before I could leave, I’d have to make him okay. That meant getting inside the FAHQ and finding Becky.
“Alina,” he answered on the third ring, voice gruff. “It’s early. Is everything okay?”
“Yeah. Listen. I’m not with the FA right now, but I have to go back—”
“I’m sorry, about the club. I wasn’t thinking. I mean, I was … I just—it’s just …” He sighed, and I felt the weight of his tiredness add to that of my guilt. “My sister, when the bespellment took hold, she started writing in one of her old journals. Maybe as a way to organize her thoughts? I found it, and … You should see the things she wrote about the fae—about him.”
“I want to help you. I think I can get close to Kael. And maybe I can find out what happened to Becky.”
“Really?” Hope lifted and cleared his voice so that he sounded more like the enthusiastic Andrews I’d known before.
“I might even discover where she is.” I winced as I’d said it. I didn’t want to make promises I couldn’t keep, but there I was, doing exactly that.
A few more customers filed into the coffee shop, shaking water from their jackets. They chatted louder, swelling the background noise.
“Alina, I can’t ask you to do this. The general is dangerous.”
“So am I.”
He laughed softly. He knew the truth, knew exactly what I’d lost in that truth. Alina, the naïve American Girl. His next words were deeper, spoken closer to the phone. “I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you.”
I almost bought it. I wanted his words to be true. I so badly wanted him to feel for me that I briefly forgot about the bespellment and how it would twist his thoughts. With Reign’s rejection still ringing in my ears, it would have been nice to have someone—anyone—care for me. Someone I could talk to. A friend.
“Alina?”
I swallowed the small knot in my throat and fought the downturn of my lips. Around me, people chatted with their friends and colleagues, checked their cells, bought coffee and pastries. And I’d never felt more alone.
“Why don’t you come over? I’ll put the kettle on.”
I closed my eyes. So easy to believe … “Andrews.”
“You should see the journal. It’s important. There might be something in there that could help. Where are you? I can come to you.”
“I have to go.”
“Alina, wait. This is me. I’m not trying to get close to you …”
His voice trailed off as I remembered the words he’d said to me right after the massacre at the Dome. “Alina, I won’t need you.” The man I was talking to wasn’t Andrews. Not really. Bespellment was pulling his strings, making him say all the right things to get me through his front door.
“I’m sorry, Andrews. I have to go. I’ll tell you if I find anything.”
“Alin—”
I hung up the cell and switched it off. I couldn’t cure him, only time and distance would do that, and only if he wasn’t too far gone. But I could help him in other ways. It would have to be enough. Besides, what else was there?
After arriving at Holland Park, I pressed the intercom and got buzzed inside the empty entrance hall with its glittering chandelier and sweeping multileveled staircase.
I hadn’t expected a welcome party, but I did expect someone. Surely, given my past with the FA, they weren’t going to let me roam about their home? Some of the FA—maybe all—had aided the queen in her escape. I’d killed, cut through them like they were nothing but air. I wasn’t even sure how many I’d killed in Under, one of the many doubts that kept me awake at night.
Sounds of taunting bays and whistles echoed up from the descending staircase.
I ventured down the steps, deeper into the house, passing through high hallways that switched back and forth. My shoes sank into the deep plum colored carpet. Embossed wallpaper full of elaborate swirls and blooming flowers that demanded to be touched. The dark wood and ornate wall lights held just enough patina to hint at being original. It wouldn’t have surprised me if the FA had been on these premises since they first arrived in London (long before they came out in ’74), maybe since the old house had been built, I guessed sometime in the Victorian period.
The hoots and shouts grew louder. I turned yet another corner and pushed through a slightly open door onto a mezzanine gallery. I leaned on the balustrade and peered down at what might have once been a dining hall but was now repurposed as a training room. Two dozen fae, maybe more, lined the room. Their red and black leathers—the colors of their deceased queen—marked them as Fae Authority. Warning colors, and with good reason. They each oozed a deadly kind of confidence, the type that could clear a room with a single glance.
I inched closer to the edge and rested my hands on the rail. In the center of the room two fae sparred; if you
could call no-holds-barred, bare-knuckle blows sparring. The combatants, one male and one female, bore the wounds of combat. They fought with high kicks and quick jabs, moving, weaving, striking too fast for me to see. The fae were a predatory race, and watching them fight, it wasn’t too much of an imaginative leap to envisage how their world was one soaked in violence.
The pair below broke up, the female a clear winner. Her sparring partner took her hand and raised it up to thunderous applause. Quick as splintered light with scalpel-like precision, she represented everything people feared and admired about the fae. Faster, stronger, better in every way. What if these fae decided not to police their own? What if they wanted more?
I reached behind me and checked the three throwing knives fitted snugly against my lower back. I’d survive an attack if I surrendered to that terrible need to palm my weapons and start spilling blood.
A new pair of warriors took to the floor. Others grouped up, sizing up one another with quick smiles and hungry glares. I’d seen that wild glimmer in Reign’s eyes. How could we ever think we’d tame them?
“Where is Sovereign?”
I froze.
General Kael stood so close I could feel his breath on the back of my neck. Shivers crawled across my skin.
“I couldn’t find him.”
“How convenient,” he growled. “So why did you really come back, Construct?”
“Being on the run from the FA didn’t appeal.” His growl rumbled deeper. “I came back for help and to offer you the queen’s knowledge in return.”
“What is the extent of this knowledge?”
I swallowed. “I have … I have dreams.” Dream was too soft a word for the thoughts in my head whenever I closed my eyes. Scenes of slaughter, sounds of the dying. The smell of death and another, more potent, smell, that wrapped around me and held me close, a sweet smell that I ached to fill me up once more. Faerie. They weren’t dreams, but nightmares. “I don’t sleep anymore, because of the dreams, only I don’t think they’re dreams at all. I think they’re memories.”
City of Shadows Page 4