by Smith, HD
Connie shrugged. “The Boss wants to see you before you go.”
“Great. Just what I needed today,” I grumbled.
Chapter 2
I took the elevator to the top floor. Sorrel, my constant shadow, was with me. He’d been assigned by The Boss to protect me until the curator was replaced. I didn’t like the arrangement, because even though he was part of my realm, it felt too much like The Boss was trying to micromanage me. I guess it could be worse. I could still be working for the Devil.
Walking through the glass doors to The Boss’s office suite, I spotted a new girl sitting at my old desk. Last summer, before everything with Raven happened and I became the Fall Queen, The Boss had tried to bring me back to work as his assistant. At the time, a snooty girl with too much eyeliner named Vivian had been all too happy to give up the post. The new girl—a very druid-looking mousey-haired human—was so timid the creak of the glass door startled her. This was, of course, a different girl than the one who’d been here two days ago. Clearly, without a curse of being owned by The Boss, he couldn’t keep an assistant to save his life. I was still amazed I’d done the job for five years.
Mousey just stared as I headed for The Boss’s office. Her mouth dropped open as I grabbed the handle to his door and pushed.
I heard a very weak, “Excuse me,” as the door closed behind me.
The Boss was standing behind his desk, his hand resting on the back of his chair. He wasn’t alone. Harry and Mab were both present—in their normal guises, not the twenty-somethings they’d played at for a while last summer. Harry was standing near the full-length window, surveying the city below. Mab was checking her nails, clearly tired of waiting. Unfortunately, their presence meant this wasn’t a typical check-in.
Harry and Mab straightened and turned to face me when I walked in.
I placed the folder of qualified curator candidates on The Boss’s desk for them to review and picked up the previous folder, which was empty, meaning none of the previous qualified candidates had been approved for the job. Some days, I wasn’t sure why I bothered trying.
Refusing to let them see my disappointment, I plopped down in one of The Boss’s cushy office chairs, ignoring their ominous stairs. “Not sure Mousey’s going to make it long.”
The Boss narrowed his eyes, but he knew I was right. He’d be lucky if she finished out the day.
Mab didn’t officially greet me, but Harry smiled and nodded. I winked at my one-time protector and pretend social worker.
Opening my hands, palms up in a half shrug, I directed my statement at The Boss. “You requested my presence, so here I am.”
He nodded as if I weren’t being completely sarcastic and began the meeting. “We have a matter to discuss, but first, how is the search progressing?”
I wanted to groan, but smiled instead. “The same as always.” I pointed at the new folder. “Four qualified candidates for you to consider.”
Mab blew out a long breath. In Ancient—a language she assumed I didn’t know—she said, “I don’t understand what’s taking her so long. I only had to see three hundred people before I found the last one.”
Was she serious? I’d found plenty. How did she get the others to agree on the one she chose? I kept my face neutral. I didn’t want her to realize I understood her.
Harry shifted his stance, crossing his arms over his chest. “Yes,” he said in English, “because you killed the first two-hundred and ninety-nine that applied for not meeting your standards.”
My mouth dropped open, but I closed it quickly. I didn’t trust any of them, although they generally followed their rules. I wasn’t sure which rule would let her kill the candidates that failed the test. Of course, there would certainly be fewer candidates if death were on the table. I kept my expression placid—showing shock around these three was never a good thing. Harry’s statement made it clear what he was referring to, but playing the I-don’t-understand-Ancient game was not always easy. Only Cinnamon knew I possessed the ability to understand the language, which was the way I wanted to keep it.
Mab shrugged. In English, she said, “It got the job done, didn’t it?”
The Boss turned his head to me. In what I could only assume was complete seriousness, he said, “Try to wrap it up this decade.” Before I could ask if he was kidding, since they could easily pick one of the four new ones I just presented and end this search now, the candidate discussion was over. He jumped right into the reason he’d called me to his office. “The fallen aren’t following the rules. There’s a situation downtown. You need to handle it.”
I raised one of my eyebrows. By downtown, he meant Underworld. How the hell he thought I could reign in anything down there was beyond me. “Fine. Let me pop over to my realm. I’ll get some reinforcements and sort it all out.”
Mab snorted. “You must replace the curator before you can return. Those are the rules.”
Of course they were, and I was sure they’d find another excuse to keep me from my realm after I replaced the curator. For now, I had to pretend I believed them. “Then how do you expect me to fix the problem?”
Harry, more relaxed now, said, “You’re the leader of the fourth realm. They will follow your directive.”
I wanted to laugh. Was he serious? I could barely toss two fireballs before I was spent and it was only getting worse the longer I was outside of my realm. “What about your boys? Aren’t they supposed to be the police down there?” I’d always considered the Underworld mob—all druids—to be anything but police, but, officially, it was their role.
Harry bristled a bit. Somewhat condescendingly he said, “It’s your responsibility, but if—”
“No,” The Boss cut in. “She’ll handle it. We agreed.”
I didn’t like the way that sounded. When had they agreed? And how big was this problem?
Mab fired back in Ancient. “We agreed she’d get her chance, but I won’t wait forever. Underworld could fall if things deteriorate further.”
Holy hell. What was going on down there?
Harry actually rolled his eyes. Did that mean Mab was being overly dramatic? Not that I’d put it past her, but why? It wasn’t like she’d said it in English.
“Enough,” The Boss said in English. Looking at me, he said, “You’ll sort out a small issue with Sage, and then get the quads to assist in the cleanup.”
“Cleanup? What exactly is going on down there?”
The Boss’s lips flattened into a straight line. “Some factions are trying to displace existing residents. It needs to stop.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Factions? Displaced residents? That’s the situation? What are the fallen doing, booting the others out of their homes?” I asked sarcastically.
The Boss started to speak, but Mab answered instead. “You need to get your people in line, or I’ll do it for you.”
Harry cleared his throat. “My boys will investigate if it continues. There will be consequences if that happens.”
Oh, joy. I imagined payoffs and protection money, huge fines that would need to be paid by the fallen to the mob to keep the fallen’s stolen land—if it was stolen. Or were the residents that owned the property switching allegiance and putting pressure on other non-fallen to leave?
I wondered how Harry saw the police in Underworld. Did he think they were actually doing good things—that his boys handled things in a legal, ethical way? Did he not know that they were basically corrupt? I considered asking a dozen questions, but The Boss was already straightening the papers on his desk. I guess I’d have to figure it out on my own. I smiled and said, “Piece of cake.”
~#~
Sorrel was chatting up Mousey with his usual smooth-operator charm when I left The Boss’s office. He was a lover, not a fighter, and Mousey was just the kind of new human he liked to deflower.
“Let’s go,” I said, not bothering to slow down.
Mousey actually glared at me. She was clearly trying to stake a claim. If only she knew what she was re
ally looking at, she wouldn’t be so eager. Sorrel had all the looks, but he was a player through and through. I was fairly sure he’d slept with every woman under thirty in the building, and maybe a few of the cougars, too. I ignored her. It would be a different girl next week, so it wasn’t like she and I needed to be BFFs.
I glanced back as I pushed through the glass doors. She blushed as Sorrel took her hand and kissed it. I rolled my eyes, continuing to the elevators. Sorrel was such a flirt, but thank God he no longer tried to hit on me and had finally gotten over Gwen—a servant he’d fallen for when he was trapped in Purgatory last summer. She’d been killed for delivering a message, but he thought they were soul mates. Now, it seemed as though he was making up for lost time.
Sorrel’s phone buzzed just as the elevator dinged. I was sure The Boss was giving him instructions to take me downtown.
“I need to go home first,” I announced.
Sorrel ignored me, typing something into his phone, which was odd because he didn’t usually need to acknowledge his orders.
Sighing, I repeated, “I need to go home first.”
Sorrel shook his head, typing another message. “There’s no time for that.”
Was he serious?
This wasn’t like him, but in my weakened state I wasn’t sure I could force the issue—even though Sorrel and his siblings were part of my realm, I had limitations. The only powers at my command were the abilities I received when I entered Purgatory last spring and a few things from jump-starting the fourth realm last summer. Nothing had any real juice behind it. Because their power base was the largest of any in the fourth realm, trying to hurt them only weakened me.
With a long sigh, I asked, “What’s the rush? Your twin isn’t causing that much trouble, is he?” Sage had always been more trouble than Sorrel.
Sorrel’s brow furrowed as if he didn’t know what I meant. His phone buzzed again. Looking down, he said, “Oh, it looks like he is. And now the request makes much more sense,” he said to himself.
“What are you talking about?”
“Nothing, we have to go downtown immediately.” Looking me over, he said, “You should change.”
I glanced down at my work clothes—a boring pair of khaki dress slacks and a simple white cashmere cardigan. I was all about comfort these days, and yes, sometimes that meant I wore a twin set.
Continuing he said, “We’re going to the Hare—you’ll stick out anyway, but like that, you’ll just look weird.”
I rolled my eyes, something I did way too often lately. Snapping my fingers, my clothes changed into a nice pair of jeans and cowboy boots, but I kept the cardigan. Sorrel switched his dark suit for tight black jeans, a form-fitting black t-shirt, and black steel-toed work boots. I wasn’t sure who the hell he thought he was kidding: he’d never done manual labor a day in his life. At my raised eyebrow, he winked, just as a black cowboy hat fell onto his head and he shrugged into a kick-ass leather jacket.
“Whatever,” I muttered as we headed to the motor pool.
I half expected the manager to bring around an F150, but no, apparently the upper-echelon demon cowboy drove a cherry red Lamborghini.
It was still daylight when we pulled out of the underground garage at the Tucker Bosh building in midtown, but the sun was setting fast. I stared out the window as the city passed by and felt an almost imperceptible tug on my core as we crossed over into Underworld.
“Where are we going, exactly?” I asked when I realized we were on the wrong side of town from the Wild Hare, the bar Mace now owned.
Sorrel remained quiet as we turned onto a side street I recognized. My gut tightened with dread as the blacksmith’s shop came into view.
Chapter 3
“Why are we going to the blacksmith’s shop?” I asked.
Sorrel didn’t take his eyes off the road. “We have to make a quick stop.”
“A quick stop. I haven’t been able to get you to stop anywhere that wasn’t on The Boss’s list for weeks, and now we’re taking a sudden detour.”
Sorrel was quiet.
I pulled out my phone and started to dial The Boss’s number. Sorrel grabbed it before I could hit the send button.
“What the hell are you doing? Give it back or I’ll make you regret it.”
Sorrel scoffed. He looked sideways at me, tucking my phone into his inside jacket pocket. “I’ve noticed something about you, Claire,” he said. “When it comes to me or one of my siblings, you seem to be more bark than bite. You don’t act. Not the way the others would. So unless you want to figure out exactly how well matched we are, then I suggest you cooperate.”
That jackass was calling my bluff. I turned away from him and stared out the window again. “It won’t always be this way.” I could feel the cocky bastard smiling.
We rode the rest of the way in silence. I jumped from the car the moment he stopped outside the large brick building where the shop was located. I was hoping he’d brought me here to see Isla, the blacksmith. I wouldn’t go so far as to say I trusted her, but if she’d been able to leave the fourth realm, she could give me an update or possibly get word to Omar when she returned.
I took in the scene around me. I had the oddest sense that everything was okay. But how would I know that was true? I hadn’t been to this part of town in months. As I thought this, I took a closer look at Isla’s shop and realized it was abandoned. I glanced around and noticed that everything on this street looked just as deserted. The Harley shop across the way was half boarded up and the sign for the surf shop next door was dangling by one chain. I no longer had the sense that everything was okay. The exact opposite was true: nothing was as it seemed.
What was going on down here? Was this part of the displaced residents problem the big three wanted me to fix? Nothing else was open in these shops, so it wasn’t like new people had moved in and taken over. I needed a closer look.
I closed my eyes, slipping into the in-between. My ability to slip my consciousness from my body was a trick I’d learned after entering Purgatory last spring. I’d lost the more powerful teleportation and time travel angle when Harry removed his blood, but I could still move my presence into the in-between and roam around incorporeally. The view I had of the world while using astral projection opened up my full sight to magic. Thresholds, wards, and other auras came alive in this bodiless state.
I blinked my presence into the different shops. As I suspected, they were all deserted. Isla’s looked to be in good condition, just dusty from non-use. I assumed this meant no one was able to leave the fourth realm, which had to be why Omar hadn’t contacted me. But last summer he’d indicated that new Fallen had arrived with the ability to communicate outside the realm—so why was he staying quiet? Shaking off that concern, I considered the other two shops. Both were smashed up and abandoned without a backwards glance, as if someone just decided to walk away. There wasn’t as much dust, either. Whatever had happened here, it hadn’t happened that long ago. Since it didn’t appear anyone was setting up shop in the newly vacant properties, I had to assume there was more going on here than I first thought based on the big three’s description of the problem. The previous owners were displaced, but forced to evacuate would have been more accurate.
I returned to my body and opened my eyes. “Why are we here?”
Sorrel checked his watch. “Someone needs to talk with you.”
Before I could ask who, a rush of wind blew past me. Gizelle, Sorrel’s mother, manifested in front of me, boldly laying her hand on my arm. A sharp pain seared my skin at her touch.
“Gizelle,” I hissed, pushing her hand away. Her eyes widened as my vision flashed green. “What the hell was that for?”
Was this who Sorrel had been texting when I thought he was texting with The Boss?
Composing herself, she smiled. She ignored me and turned to Sorrel. “Son, you look well.”
“Thank you, Mother,” Sorrel replied just as formally. “As do you.”
I rubbed my arm t
o ease the pain. “What do you want?” I asked, drawing her attention back to me.
She bowed her head, “My queen.”
Oh, please. She may have called me her queen, but her allegiance was still with Purgatory. Considering her level of power, I would have felt it had her energy been added to my realm. I raised an eyebrow as she looked up.
She cleared her throat. “I was simply reminding you of your promise to me regarding the continuation of life for my children.” She glanced down at my arm.
I stopped rubbing it, which was when I realized there was a dull throb where she’d touched me. The same dull ache there had been last summer when she made me promise to save her children from death and Mab. That deal should have been complete, but unfortunately, she’d inadvertently linked it capital-D Death, my ex-lover who fully intended to capitalize on that loophole to get me to cooperate, but that just meant I couldn’t let him kill them. This reminder was bullshit.
“That deal’s done. Now remove the reminder.”
She laughed. “You agreed to protect my children from Mab and death. You can never let them die by anyone’s hand—even your own.”
“Oh, hell no. I didn’t sign up for that. I can’t protect them twenty-four seven. Remove the spell. I demand it.”
Gizelle looked affronted. “And let you kill them.” She waggled her finger at me and made a tsking sound. “What sort of fool do you take me for?”
A green shine ran across my eyes. “As long as they stay out of my way, why would I kill them?”
Sorrel stepped forward. “You threatened to kill Mace. You said that if you ever laid eyes on him again, you’d kill him.”
“So?” I shrugged, remembering the time we’d all been at the Great Museum. It was after Mace had tried to kill me—again—and I’d had enough of his bullshit.
Sorrel glanced back at his mother. “I told you she wouldn’t understand.”