The Mad Queen (The Fae War Chronicles Book 5)

by Jocelyn Fox

  After glancing over her shoulder to ensure that both Sidhe men had, indeed, obeyed her direction to buckle up – they had – Vivian executed a neat three-point turn at the top of the driveway and sent the Jeep bouncing down the gravel driveway. Once on the road, she stomped on the gas and grinned as the new vehicle roared in response. Wind whipped through the open cab.

  “You’re so worried ‘bout seatbelts? You’re gonna get pulled over for speedin’!” yelled Duke.

  Vivian laughed. “This is just the way people drive down here, don’t you remember?”

  The headlights of the Jeep pierced the darkness and it became almost soothing, the flow of the warm air past them, the silhouettes of trees draped in Spanish Moss flashing by on the side of the road, the hum and buzz of frogs and birds swelling and ebbing around them as they sped through the night.

  When they turned onto the highway, Vivian decided to check in with Tyr. She found the thread of their connection and sent her words vibrating down its length. Doing all right back there?

  It is not the first time I have ridden in a car, he replied.

  That’s not what I asked, she retorted. I mean more like how are you feeling?

  I have been dealing with the effects of your world for the past four centuries, he said. And life has gotten far too interesting in the past days to succumb to my intended fate now.

  They began the long steady climb up the bridge over Lake Pontchartrain, the water shining blackly below them. Vivian remembered the nightmares she’d had as a kid about being trapped in a car sinking in the lake, the murky water pulling her down into the silky silt that swallowed everything whole. She pushed away the memory and focused instead on Tyr’s words. The little bubble of excitement in her chest expanded as the lights of New Orleans brightened on the horizon.

  What’s your plan? she asked Tyr as they reached the peak of the bridge and began the descent. She glanced at his reflection in the rearview mirror, his profile illuminated by the headlights of the car behind them.

  A hint of amusement rippled through his voice. Isn’t it you leading this rescue expedition?

  Her skin prickled. Why did you just call it a rescue expedition?

  “You all right?” Duke asked, nodding to Vivian’s white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel. “I coulda drove if you wanted. Ross said somethin’ about you not likin’ the bridge?”

  “I’m fine,” Vivian snapped. She almost explained the conversation with Tyr, but then didn’t. For some reason, it was easier to let Duke think she was tensing up about the drive over the lake rather than Tyr’s suspicions.

  The Unseelie Vaelanbrigh is not at his full strength, said Tyr, still gazing out his window as they cruised through the outskirts of New Orleans, the lights of convenience stores and illuminated billboards reflecting on his pale skin, highlighting the silver and deepening the red of his scars. Corsica will have had time to regain herself. And she has been teaching Molly bone sorcery. Or rather, forcing the bone sorcerer to do so.

  It struck Vivian that the two Exiles could perhaps set their apprentices against one another tonight: she with her Paladin training and Molly with her forbidden bone sorcery. A thrill of anticipation laced with something darker coursed through her, and she began to review all she had learned in a corner of her mind. She might need to be quick on her feet if it turned ugly.

  Why do you think Corsica wants to harm Ross? she pressed Tyr as they rocketed down the highway, the sprawl of convenience stores and gas stations giving way to more densely packed buildings as the artery of the interstate snaked into the city. Vivian felt a small stab of guilt as she saw Adele’s logo on a billboard advertising classic cafes and restaurants in the historic part of the city. She still hadn’t replied to any of the texts that sat accusingly in the queue on her phone, the notifications popping up every so often to remind her that Evie, Mike, Alex and a few of the other servers who’d become her friends had messaged her. And now here she was, driving into the city under cover of darkness to an abandoned warehouse that concealed the lair of a certifiably insane Fae and her adopted half-mortal lackey. She took a deep breath and adjusted her grip on the wheel. Duke glanced at her but kept his mouth shut.

  After a few minutes, Tyr finally replied. I do not think that Corsica wants to harm Ross specifically. She simply views mortals as…expendable. Sources of sustainment.

  Sustainment. Like…food? Vivian swallowed.

  Yes, replied Tyr, his pale eyes glowing as he met her gaze in the rearview mirror. Then he looked away again, back into the darkness rushing past them. Do not be afraid. I will not let her hurt you.

  Warmth bloomed in Vivian’s chest, even as she reminded herself that Tyr was just doing what he viewed as his job as her teacher. She turned off the highway, taking the exit that she’d extracted from Tyr after his admission that he knew the location of Corsica’s lair. She tried not to think about the fact that Tyr had known all along where Corsica had been hiding the bone sorcerer.

  I did not know with any certainty, Tyr said.

  Stop listening to my thoughts, she growled back.

  He arched a white eyebrow. It is hard when you think so loudly.

  She huffed half a laugh at that. Duke looked at her strangely and this time settled for shaking his head.

  Vivian maneuvered the Jeep down a series of one-way streets, the buildings around them growing older and older as they wound their way into one of the city’s historic warehouse districts. Signs of modernity stood out like fresh green saplings in an ancient old forest: a po’boy shop with a neon sign, a brightly lit corner convenience store, and a handful of other businesses. Some of the warehouses had been converted into trendy lofts, but the whole area still retained an air of forlorn neglect, the bricks on most of the huge buildings dark with dirt, windows stained with years of grime. This area had not yet been the beneficiary of the blooming pockets of rejuvenation in the old industrial sections of the city.

  We are getting close, said Tyr, leaning forward.

  “Five out,” said Vivian out loud. She heard a click as Duke released his seatbelt, shifting restlessly, and then two more clicks as the men behind her followed Duke’s example. They passed a Chinese restaurant, the instantly recognizable scent wafting through the car.

  “There!” Duke said. “That’s her truck.”

  Vivian had to admit, there were advantages to having Duke’s specialized training on their side. She wouldn’t have seen Ross’s truck, pulled neatly into an alleyway a few blocks down from the Chinese restaurant. Only the silver gleam of its bumper gave it away in the oily shadows. Vivian wondered if she should pull into an alley too.

  We will not surprise them, said Tyr. There are wards and seeing-spells that will alert them.

  “According to Tyr, we don’t have any chance at a stealth approach,” Vivian said.

  “Anyone with ears would hear this machine,” Niall agreed, speaking for the first time since they’d pulled away from the house.

  “Especially Sidhe ears,” Vivian said, glad to see some sign of life from the Seelie Knight. She’d wondered if bringing him along had been the right decision, but she didn’t think they could have forced him to stay behind. Even without his taebramh, Niall was a formidable fighter and another pair of eyes.

  She pulled the Jeep over to the side of the road, snugging it against the curb. The silence seemed loud as she cut the engine. She realized as she slid out of the front seat that the sounds of the city had faded away into an eerie quiet, as though the shadows wrapped them in a sound-dampening cocoon. Goose bumps flowed over her skin as she quickly checked to make sure that she hadn’t forgotten any of her supplies in the Jeep: her silver rune stick, the iron chains, the spell orbs – or three of them, anyway, the others parceled out to Tyr and Niall; her sword at her waist and a dagger strapped to her calf.

  Come here, commanded Tyr as he glided around the Jeep, graceful as a jungle cat.

  Vivian’s feet moved of her own accord. She shivered as Tyr tipped up her chi
n with two fingers and drew a rune in the hollow of her throat with quick, expert strokes. He leaned back, inspecting his work with a critical eye, and then nodded. Her skin tingled where he’d touched her as he turned and pointed at Duke. Duke raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms over his muscular chest, looking at Vivian for an explanation.

  “It’s a rune,” Vivian explained huskily. She cleared her throat. “To…to counteract whatever juju is going to affect us in this place.”

  “Juju?” Duke repeated skeptically.

  “You know what I mean,” she said, glad that he couldn’t see her blush in the darkness.

  “Don’t like guys touchin’ my throat,” he muttered, but he held still as Tyr drew the rune, watching the Exiled Sidhe with a skeptical eye the entire time.

  Vivian turned to Niall. “Will it affect you at all?”

  He shook his head, the scant light catching his golden hair. “I am still Sidhe, no matter how weak.”

  “You aren’t weak,” Vivian protested automatically, but Duke glanced away and Tyr’s face remained carefully impassive. She looked at each of the men in turn. “All right. What’s the plan?”

  “Make sure Ross is safe,” Duke said immediately.

  “Verify that this is indeed where the bone sorcerer is being held,” said Niall.

  Vivian waited until Tyr responded, fixing him with a steady gaze.

  Finally he said, Settle the score.

  Between you and Corsica? Or you and the bone sorcerer? Or both? Vivian asked. This time Tyr didn’t reply, meeting her eyes and keeping his stony silence.

  “Are we gonna stand here or go in?” Duke said in a low voice. He rested his right hand on his holstered pistol, his wiry body loose but his eyes sharp, a strange excitement flashing through them every now and again.

  Vivian still felt excited too, but now that they were standing at the edge of this shadowy zone in the city belonging to Corsica, she felt almost sick. Her jaw tingled like it did before she was about to vomit, and she had to take deep breaths through her nose to control the sensation of her dinner climbing up her throat.

  “Steady,” Niall said quietly to her, touching her shoulder.

  She looked at him and when their eyes met he gave her a nod. Both of her instructors thought she was ready for this challenge. She nodded and then turned toward the warehouse, drawing back her shoulders. The warehouse looked deserted, the grime on the bricks concealing what had once been an elaborately painted advertisement for whatever product the company had sold. Broken windows gave fangs to the big building’s dark sneer. A gate stretched across the main entrance, big enough for two cars to pass side by side. Vivian spotted the door next to the main entrance. She pointed.

  “That looks like it’s open,” she said. Her voice wavered a little bit and then steadied. Even if they were walking into a trap, they were doing so willingly. That made it their choice, didn’t it? With effort, she wrenched her mind away from the questions circling in her head, setting herself instead to recalling the runes and spells which would be most applicable to the next crucial moments. She was halfway through visualizing the rune for constructing an invisible shield when Tyr stepped forward. He didn’t draw his sword, but Niall did and Duke drew his pistol from its holster.

  As they picked their way over the broken pavement toward the entrance of the warehouse, they naturally fell into a diamond formation: Tyr at the front point, Vivian and Niall a few steps behind and on either side of him, and Duke bringing up the rear. Every four or five steps, Duke paused and turned to look behind them, scanning the shadows. Knowing that he was so good at his job and that he’d probably approached strange buildings at night with an enemy inside countless times made Vivian feel a little better about their chances.

  No matter what happens when we step across the threshold, Tyr said, do not drop your defenses. He glanced at her over his shoulder. No matter what happens.

  Vivian swallowed a curse as she stubbed her toe hard on an uneven piece of concrete and stumbled. Niall gracefully rescued her from falling with a hand under her elbow. She regained her balance, muttered a thank-you, and he released her. He might not have his powers, but she still wouldn’t want to fight Niall. He still moved faster than anyone she’d ever seen besides the other Sidhe.

  Vivian wondered briefly if Ross had felt this peculiar mix of nerves, anxiety, excitement and nausea as she’d approached the building. Ross was so much more experienced with this sort of thing, she probably hadn’t felt anything but an ironclad determination to fulfill her mission.

  Her palms prickled with sweat as they stepped into the shadow of the warehouse. She glanced up at the windows. They were all dark, but the hairs on the back of her neck rose as though someone were watching them. She swallowed down another round of nausea and gripped the hilt of her short blade. Setting her jaw, she drew the weapon with a silvery whisper, the sound cutting through the thick silence. A hint of a smile curved Niall’s mouth. Vivian told herself firmly that his smile was pride in her bravery, not condescending amusement at the sight of her holding a blade. Even if he doubted her, she couldn’t afford to feel anything but determination.

  As they crossed in front of the barred main entrance, Vivian slipped her left hand into her pocket, carefully sliding one of the spell orbs into her palm. Her heart pounded in her chest as the distance to the smaller door diminished. She’d seen right: the wooden door wasn’t closed. Tyr stopped right at the threshold. He looked over his shoulder at Vivian.

  You and Duke should put your hands on my shoulders. Niall will be fine.

  “Tyr says that Duke and I need to put our hands on his shoulders,” Vivian relayed quietly, glancing back at Duke.

  Duke and Niall silently switched places, the Seelie Knight guarding their backs as she and Duke stepped close to Tyr. She decided to sheath her sword; if they were going to be thrown through a portal or some sort of rough transit, she didn’t want to risk losing her weapon or worse, impaling herself or someone else. Duke followed suit with his pistol. Vivian placed her hand on Tyr’s shoulder, his muscles firm beneath her touch. Despite his slender frame, she could feel the coiled strength in his body, and she was surprised that she still felt that melting rush of heat at his nearness. She’d assumed that the adrenaline rush and anticipation would have muted her embarrassing attraction to him, but, apparently, that wasn’t the case.

  Tyr glanced at her out of the corner of one eye, raising his eyebrow, and she hastily shut off that line of thought. She looked over at Duke, who gripped Tyr’s other shoulder without any awkwardness, his face composed. She knew that his thoughts were completely focused on Ross.

  Tyr didn’t ask whether they were ready. He stepped forward, pushing the door open soundlessly, and they followed in lockstep. Vivian’s shoulder brushed against Duke as they angled their bodies to fit through the doorway simultaneously, and then she bit down on a sound of surprise. For an instant it felt like she was falling, like she’d stepped off a ledge into space, but Tyr’s shoulder beneath her hand anchored her, and the two sensations warred in her head until she felt the firmness of a wooden floor beneath her foot. The blackness that had tried to envelope her only managed to smear shadows across her vision for a quick moment, and then by the time they took another step forward into the room, her sight had cleared.

  A quick impression of the huge space impressed itself into Vivian’s mind: hordes of treasure of every description spilled over every surface, rich carpets on the floor and furs thrown over chairs, a riot of color and materials, ancient carvings sitting alongside jeweled necklaces and waterfalls of coins as though a gypsy, a dragon, and an archeologist had all insisted on filling the great room with all their favorite objects. Vivian felt a sensation nibbling at the edges of her perception, like a breeze just strong enough to stir her hair, but the rune on her throat heated, and she knew it was counteracting whatever sorcery Corsica had applied to the place.

  After that quick moment of first impression and acknowledging the nudge of Cors
ica’s sorcery, everything happened so quickly that Vivian didn’t have any attention to spare for their fascinating surroundings. In the center of the room, Ross and Ramel were gagged and bound to one of the wooden beams that held up the vast structure. Ross looked up sharply at their entrance. Duke sprinted forward without any hesitation. Ross’s eyes widened and she shook her head violently. He’d crossed half the distance between them when Corsica stepped out of the shadows and flicked her wrist. An invisible force neatly picked up Duke and threw him across the room with terrible ease. Niall managed to keep Duke from crashing into one of the other support beams at his own expense, leaping into the smaller man’s path and catching him in a sort of tackle that gentled the blow. Vivian’s heart leapt into her throat as both men crashed to the ground, Niall’s back hitting the column with an audible crack.

  Duke rolled to his knees, clearly disoriented. Niall stirred but stayed down. Vivian couldn’t watch, had to keep her attention focused on the threat.

  “Such self-sacrifice,” purred Corsica with a humorless smile. She cocked her head, her eyes glittering as she gazed at Tyr. “Welcome home.”

  Vivian rolled the spell orb into her fingers, ready to throw it, but Corsica was too close for comfort to Ross and Ramel. Ramel slumped unmoving against his bonds, his coppery hair dark against his pale face. A prickle of concern and alarm rippled through Vivian. Somehow her nerves had disappeared and she felt very…calm. Clear. Like every sharp detail had meaning, and she could see it all.

  “Oh, don’t be angry,” Corsica continued, pouting mockingly. “You and I have been together long enough for me to know that those wounds wouldn’t kill you.” She arched an eyebrow, walking toward Ross and Ramel, one languorous step with every few words. “And we have been together long enough for me to know that you wouldn’t do what needed to be done.”

  Corsica trailed her gloved fingers over Ross’s head, like a breeder petting a prized dog. Ross bared her teeth with the gag in her mouth and glared up at Corsica.