Skidding out onto a Victoria Line platform, I couldn’t tell whether it was north or southbound. But it was empty. And that was good enough.
“C’mon Kael, where’s the damn FA?”
From the midpoint of the platform, I eyed both the entrance and exit tunnels. Warm air pushed against my back and ruffled my hair, as though the tunnels breathed. Waiting.
It came—slithering from both tunnel openings. Black poured across the white tiled walls, and it wasn’t slowing down.
Panic sliced through my thoughts, urging me to run. Just run. Anywhere. But there was nowhere left to go. I had the track at my back. I didn’t relish my chances against a train.
Teeth gritted, dagger palmed, I faced the lytch, close enough that the stench stung my nose, throat and burned my eyes. At least I won’t fade away. Fitting perhaps, that an old fragment of Faerie had created me and now an ancient part of Faerie would be my demise.
Alarms sounded. Deep, rolling sirens.
“You can’t touch me.” I said the words, not really realizing I was speaking them, especially as my voice didn’t sound like my own. The sirens drowned out much of my voice, but not enough that I didn’t hear myself speak a language strange and foreign. Fae words—smooth and rich—rolled off my tongue like a lover’s promises.
The swirling shadow waited.
The words came unbidden then. Words I didn’t know, but I understood them as soon as they left my lips. “You have no power over me, lytch.”
A rippled shivered through the lytch.
“You do not belong here.” English this time, but no less threatening.
The lytch’s edges frayed and receded, just a few inches, but enough to know my words were working. I am not afraid. I reached out my empty left hand. The dark is afraid of me.
It burst forward. I lifted my arm in a pathetic attempt to shield myself, stepped back—into air. I only knew I’d fallen when my head cracked against one of the suspended train tracks. A dull pain boomed around my skull. A rumbling quivered through my bones.
The dark loomed over me until there was nothing left but a black so thick it shimmered.
I never did get to see snow.
“Alina.”
“Go—go!”
Words—a chanting of fae words filled the air, like those I’d spoken, but this time from several voices. The general. The FA. Their words were a threat: a promise, from the general’s lips, aimed at the lytch. His voice echoed down the platform and into the tunnels where twin headlights pierced the dark.
Sparks danced below the train as it thundered forward.
I shoved upright, but my hand slipped off the track, and I fell forward cracking my chin on the rail. No, no, no, move! I scrambled over the tracks, legs slipping through the gaps.
My left leg slipped. It’s too late. The train was coming fast. So damn fast. I lifted my head and reached for the edge of the platform. Too high. I can’t.
Brakes squealed.
A terrible, icy fear burst over me. I lunged, caught the edge of the platform, and heaved myself up. Hands gripped under my arms and hauled me onto the platform as the train thundered by. I twisted onto my back and watched the red and silver carriages blur by. Seconds—just another few seconds and I’d have been killed.
Nyx slapped me on the back. “Cutting it close, Alina?” I blinked up at her grinning face. She held out her hand. “You gonna lie there all day?”
I took her hand and let her haul me onto unsteady legs. She beamed back at me. One of her fine eyebrows arched under her bangs.
The FA swarmed about the platform and standing among them General Kael stood glaring in my direction. By the look on his face, he clearly wasn’t happy, but whether it was because I’d survived, or nearly hadn’t, I couldn’t be sure.
I wobbled, until Nyx planted her hand on my shoulder. “Steady there.”
I lifted my chin and fought the urge to hurl at her feet. The ache pounding behind my eyes didn’t help.
The alarms died and the quiet flooded in, until Kael’s voice boomed, “Someone—” and by “someone,” his glare clearly meant me—“with extensive knowledge of Under released a lytch into the tunnels.”
I’d expected some sort of acknowledgement for holding the damn thing back, not suspicion. “Is it dead?” I hissed through my teeth.
“Dead?” He didn’t curl his lip, but it twitched and was damn close to a snarl. “No, it’s not dead. It’ll return to a nest somewhere. We’ll have to shut down the whole network.”
“Call it a strike,” Samuel said, casually joining us from the nearest pedestrian tunnel—still wearing his civilian clothing. With all eyes now on him, he explained, “Blame it on strike action. Close the Underground. I’ll have our squads sweep the tunnels, starting with any disused or recently closed stations.”
Kael nodded and then turned his penetrative eyes to me. “Where’s the hound?”
My defenses shot up. “How should I know?”
Karl started forward. “He has both the knowledge and motive to release the lytch.”
“Bullshit.” My stomach heaved. I pressed the cool back of my hand to my mouth.
The general stopped just outside of grabbing distance and glared down his nose. “If you know of his whereabouts you need to tell me. He’s a threat to our peace, and a very powerful one at that.”
One of the Three. “So am I.”
I’d spoken fae. I’d held back the lytch, and I’d liked it. Some of those same thoughts had to be filtering through Kael’s mind. He knew what I’d done, and what it meant. We both did.
Nyx’s hand tightened on my shoulder. “C’mon, let’s get you back to HQ.” Her eyes added, before you say something you’ll regret.
“There are few fae confident enough to roam Under, Alina,” Kael said. “Sovereign is one of them. The queen had him running errands for years. What makes you think he’s stopped her work now?”
“Because Reign helped me kill her.”
Nyx pulled me back, but I shook off her grip and stepped closer to Kael. I had to look up, but at least being shorter than him, I could punch him in the balls if I needed to. “You’re just pissed I survived, aren’t you?”
His eyes narrowed. “You and I will discuss what happened here, but not yet. I have the hound to find and tunnels to search.”
I curled my hand into a fist. One swing, that’s all I wanted. “Reign didn’t do this.”
“He’s still at-large. Just because London has changed, it doesn’t mean our ways have.” Kael nodded at Samuel. “Get her out of here.”
I tensed to swing for the general, but Samuel’s warm hand covered my fist before I could release the punch. More alarmed by his touch, I shoved him back with a scowl. “Don’t touch me.”
He lifted his hands as though in surrender. I kept my head high and strode from the platform, managing to make my way up the motionless escalators before throwing up. Nyx found me shortly after. She told me swinging for Kael would get me a one-way ticket to solitary confinement, as she helped bundle me into a Range Rover.
I was slumped against the door, shivering and bone weary, watching the London streets blur by while Scaw drove, when Nyx leaned over the rear seats and pressed her hand to my neck. She didn’t wait for my consent, and she shushed me when I immediately protested.
“Sweetheart, you might not be one of us, but you aren’t doing anyone any favors by starving yourself. Take a little freely. No debt owed. It won’t last long, but it’ll help enough to ease the pain, and I can’t stand to look at your gray face and listen to your sniveling any longer.” Her words were harsh, but her smile wasn’t, and the warmth I felt through her touch was genuine enough. I didn’t have the energy to fight; I closed my eyes, letting Nyx’s draíocht find all the empty places inside me.
Chapter Eleven
I had to get inside the general’s war room.
Nyx had already told me they’d be leaving me behind while the general and his warriors went looking for Reign, so I’d h
ave the big old house to myself. I was exhausted but couldn’t sleep. Hungry but couldn’t eat. But I’d survived, against the odds. And while the FA was otherwise occupied, I had every intention of finding out where Becky could be. Kael’s war room had to be the best place to start.
But until they left, I had time to kill, so I headed for the pool. Rumors had quickly spread through the FA ranks that I’d faced a lytch, and while I’d hoped that might earn me some respect, all it seemed to do was further isolate me. I couldn’t win. And didn’t care. I wasn’t there for them, or me. I was there for Andrews, for Becky.
After changing into a long tee and sweatpants, I retraced my steps down the many winding staircases and twisting corridors to the pool. The fae sure knew how to luxuriate. The well-placed greenery, decorative tiles, and illuminated water were typical of the fae’s opulent tastes.
Nyx’s draíocht had gone a long way to easing my aches and bruises, but I still hurt in all the wrong places. A swim might help. Dumping a towel beside the pool, I stepped out of my sweatpants, pulled my hair into a ponytail, shook my hands out, and prepared to dive in when I caught sight of a shadowy blur below the water. My first thought was lytch—I had the dagger out of my towel bundle before the thing could attack.
Samuel broke the surface. Water plastered his hair to his face, sharpening already defined features. His sparkling amethyst eyes flicked to the dagger in my hand, but his disinterested expression didn’t change.
He braced tanned arms at the pool’s edge and heaved himself out.
Oh my. There was no right place to look, and when I tried to avert my eyes my gaze it found its way back to him. At least, had he been the lytch, I would have known what to do.
Besides the cursory glance at the dagger, he barely acknowledged me as he padded to a lounger and picked up a towel.
I’d never seen a fae in shorts and most definitely not one in wet short-shorts. His back muscles rolled in a tantalizing play. Water beaded and trickled, drawing my gaze into the little valleys and ripples. Every inch of him spoke of strength and speed, a body designed to hunt. Construct or not, I was still female, and clearly not immune to that display of raw masculinity.
He ran the towel over his hair and then twisted at the waist and raised an eyebrow.
I closed my mouth. “I was, er …” What was I doing?
“Do you always swim armed?”
I looked at the dagger in my hand and tried to grasp at some words that hopefully, together, would make something of a coherent sentence. “The, er, I um …” And failed. “Do I need it?” I finally asked. “You were there when your “brothers” beat me.”
He tossed the towel down and turned, his face stern. “I didn’t lay a hand on you. I was there at Kael’s order. I didn’t enjoy any part of what was done. Despite what you might think, we’re not animals.”
A smile threatened to pull at my lips. I somehow kept my gaze from running the length of him, swallowed hard, planted a hand on my hip, and tossed the dagger onto my towel. “You might not be, but Kael is.”
“And yet you want him to train you?” The delicious timber of his voice, deepened with a slight growl, had curious flutters stirring way down low.
I pulled my gaze away and walked to the edge of the pool. “I know what you are.” I wasn’t entirely sure I could swim. When I’d first arrived and plunged into the pool with Samuel, I’d reacted without thinking. That seemed to be key to a lot of things in my life.
“And what is that?” he asked, intrigue lifting his voice and adding something of a playful lilt.
I dove off the edge.
Instinct kicked in. I could swim. Good thing too, because I doubted Samuel would have come to my rescue. I surfaced in the middle of the pool and treaded water. He still stood there, somehow managing to look both irritated and bored. I was beginning to wonder if that was the fae’s default expression.
“You ever heard of a girl called Rebecca Andrews?” I asked. Her name echoed about the pool. I blinked water out of my eyes and flicked my bangs back so I could watch Samuel’s expression, but little had changed. No flicker of recognition. Just the same slightly bored look.
“No. Should I have?” His eyes narrowed. “I’ve never met a fae who hates the fae as much as you do.”
“I’m not fae.” An automatic reply, like the reflexes that had me treading water.
The boredom on his face was quickly replaced by smug satisfaction. He shook his head, collected his things, and headed for the doors. “You’re absurd.”
“Afraid your pals might catch you talking to the construct?” My words rolled off him as smoothly as the water had and in the next few steps, he passed through the doors, leaving me alone with my head full of more Samuel than I’d ever wanted to see.
The fae had filed out and loaded into the Range Rovers at dusk. I waited fifteen minutes, then made my way to Kael’s war room. The lock gave easily with a sharp jerk of the handle. Inside, little had changed. Everything had its place. Files stacked at perfect right angles. Pictures pinned horizontal and organized. I scanned the map of the Underground unrolled on the table, its corners pinned down with paperweights. A few stations were circled, others crossed off, but no mention as to why. Behind his desk, I pulled out a few filing drawers and flicked through the folders. One had my name marked on the tag, but my excitement was short-lived when I opened it to find it empty. I wasn’t sure if I should be grateful or disappointed.
Turning toward the desk, I pulled out the top drawer and found my original daggers insides. I had one in my hand and intended to take them both before realizing Kael would know I’d been snooping if the daggers went astray. Reluctantly, I set the one in my hand back down in the drawer and flicked through a planner. For someone who had the social skills of a brick wall, Kael had a surprising number of functions. Court appearances. Metropolitan Police interviews. Meetings with the mayor. As the spokesperson for the FA, and the fae in charge of keeping the London fae under control, it all came back on him. Reign had mastered many faces; Kael had likely done the same. In public, he couldn’t be the brusque general. He must wear another face; one of the fae ambassador. Perhaps all the fae had their many faces; I certainly had two. My fingers skipped over loose sheets of paper. I pulled one free of the planner’s pages and ran my fingers along the hastily scrawled notes—names, dates, some fae script I had no chance of deciphering. It appeared to be snippets of a speech of some kind—until I reached one line set aside from the rest and written in red: “London isn’t ready for the truth.”
“What truth—?”
“Did you lose something?” Samuel said, backlit in the doorway.
I yanked my hand out of the drawer. “My earring.” I groped at my ear, hoping to strengthen my hasty lie. “I dropped it when I was last here …” Why hadn’t he left with all the others on patrol?
“Oh, you did?” Samuel entered the room, his face in shadow. “You don’t wear earrings.”
He was suited up in his FA leathers, daggers sheathed at his thighs within quick reach of his fingers. I had a hard time keeping the image of him virtually naked and dripping wet out of my mind. Now I knew exactly how close the leathers fit.
There was a smile on his lips now, where there hadn’t been before. Just the smallest of hints, easily missed. Maybe I’d missed it all along?
“How do you know I don’t wear earrings?”
“I’ve been paying attention.” He moved around the desk, stopped close enough for me to feel the warmth of him, and lifted the day planner out of the drawer, revealing my daggers beneath. They glinted conspiringly in the low light.
He noticed the slip of paper poking out from the planner’s pages, set the book down on the desktop, and turned his glare on me. “Snooping in Kael’s office, Alina?”
My heart stuttered. “My daggers. He took them from me,” I said, and added, “They are mine.” I could smell warm leather and something fresher, lighter, that tugged on memories I couldn’t quite place.
“You
took them off the fae you murdered to get to the queen. Technically, they’re ours.”
In the dark I couldn’t tell if he was scolding, commenting, or leading me headlong into a verbal trap, and I could make out only the sparkle of light in his eyes and the twitch in his lips. He ran his fingertips along the blades, admiring them in the same way all the fae seemed to get all wide-eyed over weapons.
“You’re late for patrol?” I asked, hoping to change the subject.
He turned his head, and a shaft of light slid along his cheek to the corner of his lips where that little smile tucked in. I was starting to wonder if he might at any second free his own daggers and set them to work on me.
“Training,” he said, expecting me to figure out what that meant. “Kael’s orders.” He lifted both daggers from the drawer and set them down gently on top of the desk. “These were made in Faerie. They’re older than much of this city. They’ve seen many wars, countless battles, and killed an innumerable number of fae.”
As I watched him admiring the daggers, I wondered if he’d seen the same battles as those blades.
“Kael and me … ” I said quietly. “I don’t think this will end well for either of us. We’re both still trying to finish what we started in the tunnels when we tried to kill each other.”
Samuel curled his fingers into his palm, reluctantly drawing his hand back from the daggers. He straightened, and looked down at me. The smile was back, broader now. “You’re not the first to notice that.”
“Kael thinks so too?”
“Which is why he won’t be training you. I will.”
So that had been the heated discussion in the general’s war room, the one I’d overhead. Kael had ordered Samuel to train me. And Samuel had made it clear at the time that he wasn’t particularly happy about those orders.
“Oh.”
My face must have revealed my uncertainty because a sudden glint of tightly restrained humor brightened his eyes. “Your problem isn’t training,” he said. “You could cut down any one of us if you really put your mind to it. It’s the fear that’s stopping you. Try mastering what’s inside you instead of letting it rule you. I doubt I can help until you know what—who you are. I told Kael the same.”
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