Silverfall

by McKenzie Hunter

  His home was him: clean lines and modern. A direct reflection of him even now, seemingly at home relaxing but still wearing a business shirt and slacks, his jacket lying over the arm of a club chair.

  Asher offered me a seat across from the fae who tracked my every move with interest.

  “Erin.” Adalia’s voice was as wispy and light as a feather’s touch. The tiny bevel of her lip was faintly similar to a smirk of hubris, daring anyone to do anything other than direct all their attention to her when she deigned to speak. Having her repeat anything earned a tone even fainter, with just enough derision to ensure you felt properly chastised for not hearing her the first time. “I have no idea why you’ve dedicated yourself to helping us when you have no cause. This won’t go without notice or appreciation. If you can find a way to return Ian to the Veil, we—”

  Neri placed his hand on his wife’s thigh and murmured, “Adalia, are you sure you want to continue?”

  “Yes, I do. I was nearly mauled by a pack of animals just two days ago.”

  Neri’s lips pressed together, biting back words, and I assumed his wife had a flair for dramatics. She was likely more insulted by the gall of the attack rather than the actual attack.

  “He’s stronger than we are.” The strain in her voice at that admission hinted at fear that extended further than just the potential loss of power. It was something I’d seen often; powerful people feared the loss of power. The privilege that accompanied it. Although I hadn’t seen this couple exploit it, there had to be a certain level of comfort in knowing that very few had magic that rivaled theirs.

  Placing a hand over Neri’s that was still on her thigh, she said, “If you can send him back, preventing us suffering consequences from alternative actions, we will owe you a debt. Spare no expense; we will pay your fee.”

  Neri wasn’t about to accept what appeared to be unsolicited help so easily. “Why are you helping us? You have no fealty to the shifters. In fact, I have on good authority that you and Asher have had some discord for several months.” Neri’s gaze snapped to Asher and then back to me. “You’re a mage, but one wouldn’t know such a thing because of how little you associate with them. They have no claim to you, either.”

  That was the problem; I was a magic wielder without a home—a denizen group to call my own. The purveyor of magic that came with a penalty. Magic that peddled in death didn’t allow me to have a home among the others. They considered me dangerous and a blight on the magical world and the perception of it. Association with me meant association with my magic. And my crime.

  “So, why are you helping us? You can’t truly be this altruistic?”

  “No,” I admitted, “I’m not. You’re right, I have no fealty to anyone other than my friends and family. Madison is a fae, and what Ian is doing doesn’t just affect her as fae, but her job. She pledged to protect this city and she will. But she’s limited by the Supernatural Task Force’s organization. I’m not. An unchecked powerful fae wreaking havoc on the city will lead to humans noticing, inciting the same fear that led to us being secretive about our existence. If we don’t do something about Ian, the humans will, and I doubt they’ll just stop with him. They never do.”

  Although I’d taken some creative license, most of the statement was true. I was trying to save my best friend’s ass. I felt a personal responsibility for having possession of and using spells from a book that had already caused so much devastation. My dedication to my sister and the supernatural community, despite me not having a true home, obligated me to keep the royals safe.

  Neri’s face relaxed, his arctic eyes melted, and he extended an appreciative nod in my direction.

  “Madison is one that we value a great deal.” It would probably mean something to her, and I attempted to show some hints of caring.

  “What have you discovered so far?” Asher asked me.

  “Not much. We need to immobilize Ian’s magic, and since iron doesn’t affect him, it will have to be a spell. I haven’t found one yet that will stop him.” I had spent most of the previous night looking for a spell, and the fae looked as though they were experiencing the same level of frustration I was. With the ability to take flight and an army of shifters at his command, apprehending Ian was going to be a problem.

  I wanted to clip his wings and render him earthbound. If I could get close enough, I didn’t have to clip his wings; I could render him defenseless for at least a short period. But I didn’t have the element of anonymity on my side. He knew what I was and what I could do. Was that an option? I wasn’t totally convinced it was. And Mephisto and the Immortalis were proof that it might not be, because borrowing their magic didn’t render them helpless by putting them in a state of in-between. Was Ian being overly cautious in keeping his distance from me and preventing me from trying?

  “Do you have any leads on another Xios?” Asher asked.

  I shook my head and directed my attention to Neri and Adalia. “I don’t.” I opened my bag and retrieved my phone, showing them a picture of a Cyax. “This might be an option; it will bind someone to a location. It requires a blood spell, but it’s just as effective as a Xios.” Blood spells were really effective, but they linked the caster to the spell, which usually depleted the caster’s energy for days. The caster’s lifeline was also linked to the object throughout the spell, and if the object was broken during the spell, there were deadly consequences. Blood spells using magic objects were a last resort. I planned for this to be one as well. I could borrow Mephisto’s magic, and I could get Ian in the Veil and bind him there. It was an alternative to using the Xios.

  “I’d like to look at your collection of magical objects,” I said. “Even if you don’t have this, you might have something useful.”

  “We don’t collect magical objects. It’s a waste of resources and effort,” Adalia said with a shrug. “It’s only a matter of time until an object that was once deemed legal no longer is. Such an unnecessary hassle.”

  We all looked at Asher, who didn’t let such trifles as legal and illegal classification keep him from collecting magical objects like a child on an Easter egg hunt. Unfazed, he returned an insolent smirk. Ridicule, looks of censure, or derision would never be a deterrent for Asher. Seeing that Asher’s acquisition of a Xios led to vanquishing Ian the first time, we weren’t in a position to condemn him for his collecting.

  “Aren’t you able to disable him? It would only be necessary for a few minutes. Time to send him back,” Neri asked. He was making a substantial effort to hide his antipathy for my magic.

  “I don’t know if that’s an option,” I admitted. They didn’t need me to elaborate; our rules outside the Veil didn’t seem to apply when in it.

  The royals stood but I didn’t. Based on their frowns, I’d committed another social faux pas. How hard was it for them to understand that I wasn’t fae? They were just two haughty people that were higher maintenance than I was willing to provide. I managed a genial smile.

  “Erin, we will owe you a great debt once you right this situation,” Adalia assured me. “I still have no idea how he escaped. He shouldn’t have been able to.” She exhaled a weary breath.

  Face schooled to neutral, I simply offered a shrug as an answer.

  “Which one of you let him out? You, Cory, or Madison?” Asher asked moments after Neri and Adalia had left.

  “I’m not sure what you’re asking,” I offered, stalling for time to figure out how to answer without answering.

  “Really.” His brow arched. “Let’s not do that, Erin. Who do I hold accountable for releasing the person who now has many members of my pack living in fear? Afraid that they will be used to harm others. Horrified that they no longer have the ability to stop their change or control their actions. Reduced to nothing more than attack animals. Even injecting themselves with silver isn’t enough. Ian has magic so strong it even overrides that.” Asher closed his eyes, inhaling slow breaths, his frustration palpable. I could imagine how difficult this must be for shift
ers because they couldn’t use magic. Their shift was their magic, and someone was now able to hijack the only magic they possessed.

  I remained silent.

  “Is it a coincidence that Mystic Souls was in your possession and that you returned it the day before Ian made his appearance?”

  “Coincidences happen.”

  “They do, but I don’t believe this is one. So, who do I hold responsible for releasing Ian? You? Cory? Or Madison?” He was stalking the room like a caged animal. He scrubbed his hands over the shadow of beard starting to form.

  Stopping abruptly, he looked at me. “I guess one could say that I’m ultimately responsible because I got Mystic Souls for you.”

  I didn’t want to lie to him and fought the urge to reveal everything, but I could see the frustration and helplessness that shaded his face. Feelings like those made bad bedfellows. An unreasonable shifter was dangerous. My silence probably made me the likely suspect. He’d extend me some leniency. I wouldn’t be an enemy of the pack. I wasn’t positive that he’d give the same courtesy to Cory.

  The long uncomfortable silence ended once he realized I wouldn’t answer him. Standing in contemplation, I was reminded of his magical display and the curiosity it piqued in me. Something I wanted to explore. Near him, I couldn’t remember the argument I made earlier against exploring my curiosity.

  “I’ll need to see your stash,” I told him.

  Reluctantly he accepted that the questioning was over. Running his fingers through his hair, disheveling it, he exhaled a noisy breath. “I don’t like dishonesty.”

  I choked back my laughter. “Are you sure about that? You aren’t winning any Boy Scout merit awards for your honesty.”

  The small smirk twitched at his lips. “I never lie. If I don’t want to answer the question, I don’t.”

  “I answered your question.”

  “I feel like you aren’t being totally upfront with me. I don’t like that.”

  “But you don’t mind doing it to others?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t like it when it’s done to me.”

  He said that with a straight face. I guess the royals hadn’t left. Several moments I stood in abject awe waiting for him to laugh, say he was joking, poke fun at his arrogance and entitlement, or at the very least admit how absurd his statement was. Nothing.

  “I’m going to step out for a moment and leave you alone with your ego and let you think about what you just said. You’re getting a big boy time out. When you’re finished, you need to show me where you have your collection of objects.”

  I’d taken a few steps from the door when I returned and poked my head back in. “I’m sure your mother said a lot of things to you other than telling you you’re a special little boy, a god, and prince of all princes. There had to be a few things thrown in, like humility, don’t be an ass, the world doesn’t revolve around you, be nice to strangers, pick up your garbage. You get the picture. Yet the former are the only things that stuck?”

  Asher didn’t take me up on his well-needed time-out and was out the door seconds after I left. I followed him to the pack’s home where they kept everything. Saying you have a vault sounds impressive until you discover it’s nothing more than an oversized stainless steel safe. Usually there are cameras, and sometimes it might even be located behind a door with a fingerprint lock, facial recognition, or both.

  But Asher’s vault in the Northwest Pack’s compound couldn’t be considered anything less than a vault in every sense of the word. After we’d descended a flight of stairs, I followed him through a narrowed corridor, through a false wall, and to a door that required a code and had a fingerprint reader. Finally, I was led into his eight-by-ten vault. Surrounded by steel-reinforced concrete, I was given access to his collection of magical objects.

  I frowned at his acquisitions as I moved from shelf to shelf. Several were class five objects, and a cursory count revealed that twenty-five percent of the things he owned were classified as illegal by the Supernatural Task Force’s Runes and Recovery Department. Based on his sly look, he was quite aware of it.

  “You shouldn’t have some of these,” I pointed out, picking up several of the items. They seem to have stocked up on Glanin’s claws, which prevent shifters from intentional shifts. There were several moon rings, which prevent shifters from changing during a full moon. I was under the impression that they were in limited supply, but apparently not to Asher and the Northwest Pack. Aside from objects related to shifters, he had an assortment of protective objects, stones, magical ingredients, daggers, and magical books that would have made any magic wielder’s day if given a chance to spend time in this vault.

  I studied him with new eyes. Perhaps I had passed judgment too harshly and too soon. The way he had offered comfort to the wolves was in stark contrast to what I knew of him. And recalling how hard he fought not to change when Ian was trying to force him to, I wondered whether he struggled in order to challenge Ian or to make sure he wouldn’t hurt me.

  When Asher closed the distance between us, I no longer cared about my opinions of him or if they were without merit. I became aware of shifter magic and how different it was to others. His close proximity and the cavernous eyes that studied me were a reminder of the esoteric magic he possessed. That all shifters did. But as the Alpha, Asher had something different. I saw and felt it when he attempted to pull control from Ian and get the shifters to revert and again when he prevented his change at Ian’s hands. He had command of the raw, primal, and archaic magic that embodied shifters.

  “I’d be very well compensated if I were to call Madison,” I said, a hint of teasing in my tone. It was a toothless threat; before I could even make the call, Asher would have his pack lawyers making every attempt to block STF’s entry. While they had them busy with red tape, the vault would be cleared out and I’d look like the liar.

  Glints of mischief played in Asher’s eyes. “You wouldn’t do a thing like that to me, now would you?” he purred, knowing as well as I did that it wouldn’t work in my favor.

  I put some distance between us, hoping to subdue my mounting curiosity about his magic. I had never borrowed magic from a shifter, had always assumed it was impossible. Now I was wondering if I could.

  “You keep staring at me with an odd curiosity, and your breathing and heart rate have increased more than usual. What’s different?”

  My curiosity about shifter magic hadn’t been squelched since I experienced the extent of it at Kelsey’s. Each moment with him in the vault made it more apparent I really wanted to soothe it.

  I shook my head and took out my phone, but his hands closed around mine before I could snap a shot.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I need to take pictures so I’ll know. Most of these items I’m familiar with, but there are a few that I’m not. I have to research if they can be used.”

  Asher was slow to release my hands, but I didn’t think it was because he didn’t trust me. Possessing these objects provided a sense of security. Before, I had considered his behavior extreme, even criminal, but having seen shifters lose control and have their volition stripped from them, I understood his need for caution.

  Asher watched me carefully as I inventoried everything. Once my phone was back in my bag, he asked, “Are you going to tell me what’s changed? Why are you like this around me now?”

  It took a long time for me to answer and Asher shifted from foot to foot. “I can control my wolf,” he said. “You never have to fear me hurting you, Erin.”

  “It’s not that!” I blurted, realizing he thought I was afraid of him. That I saw that side of him, a vulnerability, a weakness in his armor, and I was uncomfortable or even feared him. “You know I’m not human, right?”

  He smiled. “You don’t have active magic, so you are human-ish.”

  My words wouldn’t come out as easily as I wanted them to. I wanted to test a shifter, see if the results would be the same as with Mephisto. Would Asher stay alive but only
lose the ability to shift?

  He’d closed the distance between us. Patiently he waited for me to continue, but the words wouldn’t come out. It wasn’t easy asking a person to allow you to put them in a death state. If they showed anything other than aversion, it was hard not to consider them a freak. What type of person agrees to that?

  His breath was warm against my lips as he whispered, “Ask the question.”

  I took several steps back to give us space. “I’m curious whether I can borrow magic from a shifter,” I admitted. “I’ve never tried before.”

  His eyebrows arched. “Why haven’t you tried a shifter before?”

  I shrugged. “Don’t know. Shifter magic is weird.”

  “You kill people with a kiss and shifter magic is weird?”

  “Shifters grow tails. It’s weird magic, just admit it,” I teased. “And you can partially change. You do a shifter shimmy, and a tail may very well appear.”

  The corners of his lips lifted. “Shifter shimmy?”

  I gave him several moments to think about it. Seeing my hesitation, he inched in closer.

  “Okay. Go ahead.” Leaning in, he attempted to kiss me.

  Stumbling back, I blurted out, “What are you doing?”

  “I’m kissing you?”

  “Why?”

  His brows knit together. Tension quickly overtook his face at the idea of having incorrect information. Asher never wanted to have wrong information. “It’s a death’s kiss.”

  “It doesn’t have to be a kiss. I just have to be close and speak the words of power.”

  “Then do it,” he whispered, his voice warm and encouraging, taking the chill and emptiness out of the room.

  This time, I was the one who removed the distance between us, intrigued by his lack of fear that didn’t seem to come from a strange place of pleasure, need, or dark curiosity. It was just absolute and unambiguous. His eyes told me to borrow his magic and sate my curiosity.