Silverfall

by McKenzie Hunter

  “I wasn’t considering killing him, Erin.”

  “I didn’t say you were. But sometimes things happen. And he’s strong so he won’t go down easily.”

  “I wish they’d handled this differently. Why didn’t they get the STF involved? We could have done something about Ian. Put restrictions on his magic, fine him for violations.”

  Sadly, Madison believed that would have worked. The worlds that we operated in were antithetical. Rules and regulations dictated her behavior, controlled her world, ensured that chaos wouldn’t prevail. In her mind, if something was the law, you followed it.

  As a good citizen, you weren’t supposed to have magical objects, and if one came into your possession, you turned it in. Sometimes my work had me dealing with people who considered the laws an unpleasant suggestion that if ignored came with a fine or a vacation, compliments of the STF penal system. And there were a select few who thought they were above it all.

  “Asher would never come to you, nor would Sherrie if it involved the Lion pack. If she found out first, she would have taken matters into her own hands, too.”

  Madison was in the Rune and Recovery department and wouldn’t handle the park situation. It still fell under the Supernatural Task Force jurisdiction, but with humans involved, like yesterday, there would be a debate over who should handle it.

  “I hope they can stop the shifters without hurting them. They aren’t acting on their own volition.”

  “It’s not our department, but I sent Claire to assist. She has a good relationship with their Chief. I’ll put in some calls.” Claire was one of the strongest witches in the department, and it gave me some comfort that she’d be there, if for no other reason than to mitigate the damage Ian was causing.

  “She lives with Jessie. I hope she has a good relationship with her.”

  “Captain Flores,” Madison corrected me. Although they were the same rank in the department, Madison would never call Jessie anything other than Captain Jessica Flores. And if she thought she could insist, she’d demand I call her Captain Calloway. She should count herself lucky I didn’t just call her Maddie.

  “Exactly, and they work for different departments that are often in a state of contention, and neither one has kicked the other out. I’d say that’s a good relationship.” Despite the tension, Madison was able to let a little humor into her voice. I let her know that I was just fifteen minutes away before disconnecting the call.

  The park wasn’t in the chaotic state I expected, but I had to make my way around the news trucks and the slowed traffic of people observing the aftermath. Five wolves lay on the grass, chests heaving in slow rhythm. A coyote and a fox lay a few feet from the picnic bench in a state of stillness. On the far end, I saw three members of the Lion pack in their animal form sprawled on the ground, subdued by tranquilizers or magic.

  I didn’t get out of the car once I saw Claire. She was hard to miss. Streaks of midnight blue twined through her dark-brown hair. A black distressed denim jacket was over her Harley Quinn t-shirt and slacks, to show some semblance of compliance to the STF dress code. Recognizing me as I passed her in my car, she gave me one of her overenthusiastic smiles and waves. The contrasts in her appearance always baffled me. She was a walking contradiction—an indictment of judging a book by its cover.

  I’d seen what I needed to see. The shifters seemed to be safe, although I wasn’t sure they were going to be free to go. Sherrie and Asher were talking to Captain Flores, and nothing about her severe expression and tight-lipped frown gave me the impression it was going to work out in their favor. Flores stood several inches shorter than Sherrie, the Lion’s pack Alpha, but she had a commanding presence despite the softness of her appearance. Hazel eyes with flecks of green held an intensity that at times made her gaze hard to hold. Light-brown waves of hair surrounded her olive skin. Her stance was a reminder that she wasn’t just a mage but could also handle situations without the use of magic, if necessary.

  Captain Flores seemed hyperaware of the cameras and that she was being recorded and photographed, and it was apparent she wasn’t happy. Her decision would have to be based on making sure that humans felt safe. The STF’s handling of shifters who weren’t able to control their shift or their behavior in a public park, where families were present, would play out on the cameras and be scrutinized.

  It was another reminder why I couldn’t take a job at the STF, no matter how much Madison wanted it. I might get away from magic, but I’d be thrown into the labyrinth of bureaucracy and public opinion.

  Parking on the outskirts of the park, I walked the few feet to the shops, cafes, and restaurants that made the park a city favorite. I was looking for the winged fae, positive he’d be somewhere close watching the aftermath of his work.

  Wings hidden, he looked relaxed sitting on a small bench outside a creamery and lazily licking a strawberry cone. I guess that’s what you do after you cause this level of chaos—you go for ice cream. His dark hair was swept behind his ear, his mood too blithe for a person who had caused so much mayhem.

  At my approach his gaze languidly roved over me from head to toe.

  “Is it safe to assume you are their emissary?” He leveled his eyes on me and ground out the title as if it were an insult.

  I didn’t correct him.

  “Tell me, what makes you follow them so blindly? Do their will. Come here on their behalf when it should be them begging me to stop. Do the king and queen know that with just a little wiggle of these”—he waggled his fingers—“I could send an onslaught of attacks that they wouldn’t be likely to survive? There are hundreds of shifters. I can attack from all angles. They wouldn’t stand a chance. Now who should be the king?”

  His power was undeniable. My need was blazing in me like an inferno. Tamping it down seemed impossible. In just a few steps, I could have it. Mephisto was from the Veil, and I could take his magic indefinitely without him dying. I wondered if it would be the same with Ian. Or would the results be the same as if I’d borrowed it from any other fae? How long would I be able to keep his magic?

  Shrugging off the thoughts were hard, both because of my need and because the desire to punish him was intense. His gaze leered too long on a mother and her child passing by.

  “No more shifter attacks,” I commanded, moving a little closer. A silver thread of magic sprang from his finger and he zapped me with it, causing me to back up several feet.

  “I know what you are, emissary. Don’t come any closer, you little raven.” He was from the Veil; which raven did he know me as?

  “I’m Erin.”

  “I don’t care who you are, emissary. Will you be removing my restriction or not? Wait, you can’t unless you borrow magic.” Leaning forward, he jutted out his narrow chin as if trying to feel a breeze or something against it. “No magic there. There is something, though . . .” He shifted his weight, considering me carefully. “No active magic.”

  I knew. Mephisto was the only person who said he could feel magical energy from me. I bet the Others did as well. Attuned to the magic and its energy in a way like no one else, Mephisto instantly knowing what I was didn’t surprise me. The winged fae recognizing it did.

  “I don’t think you are in a position to do it, are you?” he challenged.

  “I will have your restrictions removed, just give me some time,” I said.

  His smirk was cruel and rife with malicious intent. “I’ll give you as much time as you want, but know that I need to entertain myself.” Cone in one hand, he took another lick and stretched out his other arm along the back of the bench, aloof. “How will I do that?” he mused. “What will amuse me? More attacks in parks? If it keeps up, people are going to start seeing the shifters as a danger. Or maybe the shifters will attack the fae. Hmm, that would be interesting. Maybe I won’t have to overthrow them. Their own people will turn against them when they see they can’t stop the attacks, and whatever will become of the shifters? I do remember so much distrust for them.” His voic
e became a falsetto: “‘They turn into animals, think about the children.’” He laughed, a deep mellifluous sound. Coming from him, I expected something harsher, something maniacal.

  His dark smile spread even wider. “Or maybe I’ll have the shifters turn on each other. They used to have fights to the death. Maybe we should return to that. Give them a little probe with my magic, turn them loose on the streets, and see who the real dominant animals are. How will people deal with witnessing such savagery?” Overly dramatic in his delivery, I could see the miscreant thoughts that lingered behind the ginger-colored eyes that reveled in the causing of what he considered justifiable havoc.

  “I don’t respond to threats.” The edge that sharpened my voice didn’t work in my favor. His smile broadened.

  “Erin.” My name was airily spoken between his lazy indulgence of his dessert. I couldn’t decide if this was comical or scary. Probably the latter. The fact that over ten shifters were lying in the most popular park, sedated and magically constrained, while he enjoyed his strawberry dessert made him a special type of ass. “If only it was a threat. It’s a decision. Choose: your city or the removal of my marks. I want my ability to move between here and the Veil returned.”

  “I’ll try to get you what you want, but if you continue at this rate, the only option will be for people to do whatever is necessary to stop you. Do you want that?” I asked.

  He showed me his markings as though they were a justification for his behavior.

  Then he evaluated me for a long time, his brows furrowed. “Why are you working as Asher’s emissary? What draws you to a man like him? His libertine ways? Confidence? Being an Alpha? Power seems to appeal to people in a way I’ll never understand.”

  “I think you understand it just fine. This stunt is nothing more than a power play. Well, you’ve got my attention and I don’t think you really want that.” Whatever look was on my face made him straighten up a little. Realizing I saw the change too, his air of conceit bloomed more and he took another idle lick from his dripping cone. Thoughts of smooshing it in his face brought a smile to my face.

  His light, hearty laughter was carried by the small breeze. “I do see why Asher chose you to represent him. I find the Raven Cursed quite alluring.” He said “Raven Cursed” with undisguised reverence. Being called Raven Cursed as opposed to The Raven brought me a small amount of comfort; at least I knew what Raven Cursed was. The Raven Cursed had parents, limited magical skills, and didn’t know about Veils, Immortalis, Caste, or Malific.

  “Yes, I find you alluring,” he repeated, a small smile lifting the corners of his lips.

  “Ick,” was all I could manage. In different circumstances, he might have gotten my attention. Right now, I wanted to draw his magic from him and send him into the in-between without guilt. Not an iota of it would be wasted on him.

  His gaze slipped to the right. “And the Alpha arrives. No, stay where you are,” he chided Asher. Anyone would have requested the same thing if they’d seen the carnage in Asher’s eyes. I had never seen a graphite ring pulsing in his gray eyes. Was that the last thing anyone saw before they felt Asher’s wrath? No one could deny the heart of a wolf behind the expensive, tailored steel-blue suit—he was a predator, and if it ever slipped from the mind, this was a reminder. One that I needed myself. To me, he was just the flirty Alpha with a questionable moral compass. But right now he was the Alpha never to be underestimated.

  “You don’t have anyone else with you, so it’s safe to say that you’re not here to remove my markings. And your emissary is a magical dud. Ineffectual. Why are you here?”

  “Leave my pack alone. No more of this or—”

  “Or what, you’ll shove me into the Veil without any means to return?” Ian snapped, his lips drawn back to bare his teeth.

  Distraction and emotions that I used to my advantage. The electric pellet I tossed to the left of him drew his attention away from the shurikens I threw. The first one hit his shoulder, and his initial shock was replaced by outraged incredulity. The second one in his chest caused him to roil with anger. Magic thrust hard into me, knocking me back several feet and dislodging the shurikens. I was too far to get to him and take his magic. Panting through clenched teeth, he dropped his cone and erected a diaphanous field around him.

  He seethed as he pulled out the shurikens. Hate flared in his eyes. “Asher,” he hissed, “you’re going to feel terrible about ripping your emissary’s throat out.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed down the rage that seemed to be distracting him from being able to perform magic.

  Robust energy formed in the air. Asher folded over then dropped to the ground. His hands balled into tight fists. He was panting hard. Streams of perspiration formed along his hairline and eventually dropped from his nose. His eyes glowed, and the thin ring around them became more pronounced. I realized I’d never seen that look because it was a warning that Asher wasn’t fully himself. Paws replaced his hands, and I pulled out my concealed gun, prepared to stop Asher the wolf.

  The self-satisfied look on Ian’s face wavered and eventually vanished after several minutes when there wasn’t a massive wolf in front of him but an exhausted man whose paws had receded.

  “Keep fighting, I have all day.”

  “But you don’t,” said a voice to my left, a sphere of magic shooting from her finger into the field. It was strong enough to buckle the field. While Madison battered at the protective barrier protecting Ian, Claire walked around it, examining it. Smile more menacingly, woman. You look like you’re about to invite him to game night. Bare your teeth, narrow your eyes. Growl for all I care, but stop smiling at him.

  He dismissed her at first, and with the goofy smile on her face, I didn’t blame him. Then her smile disappeared and her lips started to move. Her eyes were pits of darkness as she reached into a pouch at her waist and sprinkled dust around the field, keeping her eyes on him the entire time. Her attempt at a menacing snarl was a miserable failure. It reminded me of a child trying to figure out how to pout. I definitely planned to give her a lesson in the art of menace. Ian sucked in a breath when her words came more fervently and the barrier undulated, buckling further and thinning with each moment.

  He struggled to keep it intact around him while still trying to force Asher to change, who was resisting the magic. Ian’s face relaxed, wings sprouted, and he shot into the air.

  “You cheating jackass,” Claire yelled after him. But he was too far away to hear.

  “Thank you,” I said, moving to Asher, who was lying on his back, arm over his face to block out the sun. His breath was labored, but not as much as I would have expected. He was flushed. It was like touching a stove when I pressed my hand to his cheek. Shifters ran hot, but I was concerned he’d have irreparable damage if he stayed this hot for too long.

  “You’re hot,” I informed him.

  “I know,” he whispered. “But should you be groping me in front of an audience? I’m cool with it but we’re probably violating a social expectation of decency.” He moved his arm from his eyes.

  “Are you okay, Asher?” Madison asked.

  He nodded and sat up, shrugging off his jacket. “Just give me a few minutes.”

  I stood next to Madison, equally intrigued by his transition from physical distress to normal. The sheer control of it. Once again, I found myself coveting shifter magic. Alpha magic was something I hadn’t tried. It might be possible. What would happen? I let my gaze drop to the ground because I was sure he could see my interest. It was confirmed when I lifted my eyes to meet his. A faint smile feathered along his lips.

  Giving me a rueful look, Madison took a bag and picked up the shurikens that came off Ian. She handed the bag to me along with an accompanying warning look. They were illegal and should have been confiscated. But they had his blood on them, which meant I would be able to track him. This was one of the moments when she would tell me she was taking off her badge and we were working as sisters.

  Claire looked away, assess
ing the area.

  “So that’s . . .” Madison waved at the empty space where Ian had been.

  “Ian. He escaped from the Veil.” I didn’t elaborate on how he did it, not with Claire there. Madison trusted her and so did I, but plausible deniability was always a good thing.

  “Veil?” Claire asked.

  I gave her the Cliff Notes version of the Veil and how few people can see it and even fewer can navigate within it. I explained that Ian came through a couple of years ago and decided he would be a better fae king and to prove it, demonstrated his unusual power of controlling shifters. And how his threat led to Asher forming an alliance with the royals to send him back, and now that he’d returned, he was looking for a way to remove the markings that seemed to restrict his ability to move between the Veil and here.

  Claire struck me as an open-minded type of person, but even though she nodded while I spoke, her face held a scowl of skepticism. She remained unconvinced even after Madison confirmed that the Veil existed although Claire wasn’t able to see it. Ian and his antics didn’t appear to convince her either.

  I understood her skepticism, but I had to leave it to Madison to convince her. Ian had to be stopped, and I needed to find another Xios or its equivalent.

  CHAPTER 7

  The royals looked out of place on the sofa in Asher’s home. I’d only visited their home once and was quite content to never do it again. Walking through it felt like walking through a museum, sterile and uninviting, projecting the same feeling that touching anything in it or taking photographs was prohibited.

  In contrast, Asher’s home radiated an easy comfort and casual stylishness. If you’ve been to one shifter home, you’ve been to them all. There were subtle differences that matched their personality, but all shifters seemed to have an affinity for earth tones; various warm shades of greens, tans, beige, moss, dark browns, and clay. Asher’s home wasn’t any different. Sleek dark leather furniture against a backdrop of warm light browns. The large area rug reminded me of the forest, though it had richer hues, and instead of a regular coffee table he had an eclectic-looking tree trunk.