“Aisling House seemed to be a stop for them recently, but they didn’t stay,” Eli added.
“And Pan is involved.” I took another sip of my drink. “I think we need to talk to him again.”
Donovan nodded. “If you get more details about the missing faerie, maybe you can find something in common between the three. Was she taken from Dublin, or somewhere else?”
“No clue. We definitely need to ask him.” I drummed my fingers on the bar. “You still got that amulet, Eli?”
Eli reached from beneath his black t-shirt and pulled it out. “Should I call him now?”
He exchanged a glance with me. We both remembered all too well that working with Pan was playing with fire. His mood changed like the wind, and if you weren’t careful those winds would turn the flames on you in a moment. Not to mention he had an interesting taste in entertainment… But I was hardly going to let the guy scare me out of doing my job.
“Now’s as good a time as any,” I said.
Eli clutched the amulet in his hand and closed his eyes, picturing Pan in his mind no doubt. Nothing happened for several moments. Those moments stretched into almost a minute, and we all shot each other nervous looks.
A flash, and a figure stood before us, a shower of green sparks lighting the air around him.
It wasn’t Pan.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The being standing before us was a faerie, that much was for sure. Beautiful as the night, dark skin and silky black hair and an angular face both playful and predatory. Eyes a pale pewter color, glimmering like stars.
“I am Sanjel.” He nodded his head toward us, not a bow exactly. “Lord Pan is occupied at the moment, but sends his greetings. Do you have word of the missing faerie?”
“Not yet,” I said. “But we need to talk to Pan.”
“He thought that might be the case,” Sanjel said. “And he says that he will speak only to you, Zyan Star.”
“Why me?”
“I do not make assumptions as to Lord Pan’s motivations.” Sanjel stood up straighter, his bearing regal. “He will meet you in one hour’s time at Morsure Pecheresse.”
“Never heard of it.”
“It is in Paris.”
“Paris?” I raised a brow. “I don’t exactly have time to get to Paris in the next hour.”
Sanjel took a step closer to me. “If you know the location, you can travel on the interdimensional pathways, yes?”
“Yes, but—”
Sanjel placed a hand on my shoulder and images flooded my mind. A narrow boulevard lined with quaint shops. Green awnings. Tidy baskets of flowers overflowing with pink bougainvillea. Candles on bistro tables.
“I don’t care for people entering my mind without permission,” I snapped. Beside me, Donovan took a step toward the faerie, his shifter energy flaring.
Sanjel looked unfazed. “One hour’s time.” And he vanished.
Eli shot me a look of dismay that I knew matched my own. I tossed back the last of my whiskey. “Fucking faeries!”
An hour later, I stepped through the interdimensional pathways onto the narrow street Sanjel had shown me. Picturesque, with Montmartre and the Sacre-Coeur a striking backdrop in the distance. I supposed Paris was a nice enough place, so long as you avoided the trolls that ran amuck in the sewer system. I just wasn’t in the mood the have my evening derailed by a game-playing faerie.
Said faerie sat there waiting for me under the green awnings of the outdoor patio. Candles flickered on the table, sparks of light in the violet night sky, making the small street seem even more intimate. Which did not make me happy. I walked forward cautiously and Pan’s eyes followed my every move, drinking me in as he would a fine wine. That made me even less happy. When I reached the table, he at least remained seated and didn’t try any chivalrous shit like pulling out the chair for me. Not that it was his style.
In place of one of his typical earth-toned outfits featuring suede or a rough-cut tunic, he wore a pale blue silky-looking blouse over gray fitted pants with shiny black boots. The blouse was quite low cut, with frilly curls of fabric. His red hair was tied in a loose knot at the nape of his neck. He looked kind of like a classy circus ringmaster.
“Sorry, I didn’t dress for the occasion,” I said, sitting across from him and kicking my boots up in the chair next to me.
“I didn’t expect that you would,” Pan said in his usual sultry tone. It carried just enough of a strangeness that you knew he wasn’t of Earth, while still caressing each syllable of the language like he’d invented it himself.
“So, why did you call me here?”
“I was craving a Parisian dinner.” His spring green eyes sparked. “I figured some company would be nice. And you do make excellent company.”
“No one but you would call me from a very important investigation to hang out with them in Paris,” I said drily.
“Somehow I knew you wouldn’t refuse.” He leaned forward and lifted a bottle of red wine from the center of the table. “Bordeaux? 1962.”
“Well, I did come all this way…”
Pan poured me a glass, the candlelight flickering in his eyes.
“Why are we the only ones here?” I asked, looking around at the empty tables.
“I know the owner. I reserved the restaurant for the night.”
I raised a brow. “You paid for the whole restaurant for the night? That must have been pricey.”
Pan shrugged. “He owed me a favor. I do love calling in my favors.” He smiled devilishly.
“Yes, I recall.” I took a sip of my wine. Wine wasn’t really my thing, but this one was good enough to change my mind. It tasted of earth and crushed berries and chocolate.
“Some escargot to start things off?” Pan asked, looking at a menu.
“Souls are more my thing, but whatever floats your boat.” I gazed at him over the rim of my glass, trying not to show my impatience.
“Surely you can appreciate the taste, Zyan, even if it doesn’t keep you alive.” Pan returned my gaze with such intensity that I almost looked down. Almost. “Humans can eat mundane things just to survive, too. But food can be such an art… it’s one of my favorite things about the Earth realm. Though we have some excellent dishes in Faerie as well.”
A waiter appeared at the edge of the table, though I hadn’t seen him approach. Another faerie. Pan ordered the escargot, as well as a cheese board, chocolate mousse, and an assortment of hand-crafted macaroons. I didn’t bother asking why he was heading straight to dessert. The dude had a flare for indulgence, I wasn’t going to stop him.
“So, the missing supernaturals,” I began.
Pan stood up, unfolding his body in one fluid movement. “We’ll get to business soon enough,” he said. “But first, a dance.”
“I don’t dance,” I growled. “Least of all with faeries. You think I’m dumb?” Everybody knew not to dance with faeries. Next thing you knew, two hundred years had passed in the blink of an eye and everyone you knew was dead and buried.
“I’m quite sure the great Zyan Star wouldn’t succumb to faerie magic like a mere mortal,” Pan challenged.
We locked eyes, and after a moment I rose from my chair. What can I say, I’m a sucker for a dare. “Fine. Just one dance. Then I want some answers.”
“One dance,” Pan said with a bow.
He took my hand and led me away from the table. Suddenly, the space around us was clear—the tables had vanished, and the little patio expanded vastly.
“Nice trick,” I said in a very unimpressed tone.
“Hardly.”
Paris vanished entirely in a glimmer of magic, to be replaced by a clearing in the midst of a dark forest. The only thing that remained as evidence we’d been in a quaint little café a moment before were the candles. They now floated in the air all around us and far out into the trees, illuminating the depths of the forest. We weren’t close enough for me to be sure, but the trunks of the trees seemed too smooth, as if they were made of marble r
ather than wood. Overhead, stars sparkled and several moons of varying colors wheeled slowly in the sky like a mobile over a baby’s crib.
“That’s better,” I said.
Pan smiled and led the way into the dance, pulling me gently along. We moved in slow loops, around and around the meadow, his bright eyes locked on my dark ones. Somewhere music had begun to play, sweet and melancholy, as if a thousand harpists hid behind the trees. I could smell Pan’s grass and fresh earth scent, and feel the heat coming off his body. My mind started to wander, my vision blurred, and I felt a heady rush as if I’d had too much to drink. Except I’d only had half a glass of wine.
I jerked my head back and forth to clear it. Damn faerie magic. I needed to move things along, to get Pan talking. “How old are you?” I blurted. It was the first thing that popped into my head.
Pan looked slightly surprised by the question. “I could tell you, but you wouldn’t begin to grasp the depth of it.” He paused. “But I could show you, if you’d like.”
Curious, I nodded.
Night turned to day, and the forest around us intensified in color, changing from purple hues to shocking greens and golds. Pan was there, dancing among centaurs and other faeries. He looked the same except for his eyes. Something in his eyes was young, so young. They spoke of the dawn of time, the turning back of ages. Eyes that had not seen the passage of eons, the coming and going of civilizations, that had not seen war or hunger or hatred.
The scene changed, and we were on Earth now. It was clear from the lack of vividness. Faerie was an insane drug trip of color, and Earth seemed drained and lacking in its place. Pan skipped and danced amongst a circle of humans, then they lifted him into a wicker chair and carried him back to their village, a muddy hole with twigs for houses. A great feast was prepared, and they sang and danced and worshipped him.
Images moved on fast-forward after that, villages rising and falling, races of people coming and going, whole belief systems born and crushed. Earth, Faerie and other realms, the same changes, like a hologram stuck on repeat. And that was the thing of it… the same thing happened, over and over. Newness became a rarity because eventually history always repeated itself. Again and again and again.
I blinked, and we were back on the patio again, the candles flickering on the tabletops. We stood, hands still clasped. Pan’s eyes held mine, searching.
“History is repeating itself,” I said. “Ambriel’s only a tiny speck in the scheme of things. The government is rounding up all the supes, and things are about to get ugly. That’s why I have to stop it.”
Pan released my hands, his own falling limply to his sides. “That’s what makes you so interesting, Zyan. I show you the whole of history and you think you’re going to be the one being who can stop the inevitable.” He looked at me, brow arched condescendingly. “Forgive me if I just don’t care.”
“I don’t believe you,” I snapped. “I didn’t just see history unfolding. I felt your… your sadness, along with it.”
His eyes flickered in surprise.
“Maybe you think you’re completely jaded, but you still feel something.”
Pan smiled, and his usual confidence washed over him as if he’d shrugged on a coat. “Let’s get to business, shall we? The food should be here shortly and I’d hate to spoil it.”
I stiffened at the sudden change in mood and conversation. “Okay. I came here to get more details about the missing faerie. Maybe there’s a connection between the three missing supes… something we didn’t see before.”
Pan sat down at the table and I followed suit. “Yes, about that.” Pan lifted the fancy cloth napkin from the table and spread it in his lap. He swirled his wine in its glass. “I’d like you to relay a message to the delicious Elijah for me.”
I leaned forward, still feeling off balance from the abrupt shift in the evening.
“I’m calling in the favor he owes me,” Pan said. “I want him to stop looking for Ambriel.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“What? Why?” I asked, my breath going out in a rush. “How is that going to help you find your missing faerie?”
Pan took a sip of wine, leaning back in his chair nonchalantly. “Let me be concerned about that.”
“Well, he can’t just give up the search. He’s been tasked by the Holy Representative to find Ambriel.”
“He can, and he will,” Pan said silkily. “Eli doesn’t get to choose the nature of the favor he owes me.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “I’m telling you right now, he won’t do it.”
Pan’s eyes flashed. His tone became viper deadly. “That is quite regrettable. You’ll find that faeries do not take lightly an owed favor that is called upon and denied. Serious consequences will ensue.”
I stood up, shoving my chair back. “And you’ll find I don’t take kindly to threats.”
Pan smiled. “I’m not threatening you, my dear.”
“A threat to Eli is a threat to me.”
“Ah, yes. You two do feel quite strongly about each other, despite your protests to the contrary.”
“I’ll be going now.”
“Aren’t you going to stay for dinner?” Pan cooed.
“No, but do enjoy yourself.”
“I always do.” His eyes sparkled again, all mirth and no menace. “I’ll wait to hear from Eli on his decision.”
I turned and stalked down the street before stepping through the pathways back to The Drunken Dragon. Eli and Donovan were pretty much exactly where I’d left them. One look at my face sent them both off their barstools and headed in my direction. After half a stride, they locked eyes for a moment, and Eli sat back down.
“What’s the matter?” Donovan asked, meeting me halfway to the bar.
“Just Pan and his usual bullshit,” I snarled. I sat down next to Eli. Not sure why either of them bothered to get up on my account. “You’re not going to like it.”
I told Eli about Pan’s demand, and he didn’t say anything for almost a full minute. He just stared at the bar, gripping the edges in both hands, his knuckles going white.
“There aren’t any good choices here, are there?” he finally said, his voice carefully controlled. “Either I betray the angelic forces, or I deal with whatever consequences Pan has in mind.”
“It won’t be something simple like death, either,” I said. “He’s far too creative for that.”
They both stared at me.
“What? It’s the truth.”
“Why don’t you ask the HR for advice?” Donovan asked.
Eli let out his breath between clenched teeth, low like the hiss of a snake. “No, I won’t draw him into this. Plus, the angels here in Dublin have made it clear they don’t respect his choices about certain things.” His eyes flickered in my direction. “I don’t think he has much sway.”
“Of course, you could just lie to Commander Juno and lay low while me and the rest of the gang keep looking for Ambriel,” I said. “Pan can’t prohibit any of us from doing it.”
Eli made a face. I didn’t need to be a psychic to guess what he was thinking. It’s not like angels are big fans of lying. Me, on the other hand…
“You trust us, of course? To get the job done?” I pressed.
“Of course, it’s not that, Zy.”
“I know, honesty and virtue, blah, blah, blah.”
He glared at me.
“Got a better idea?”
“Not at the moment,” he admitted.
“Lovely. I need to find Quinn and see when we hit the library again. Since I got zippo from stupid Pan.” I knew I was pouting, but sometimes a little pouting is necessary. Faced with more library time, sawing my fingers off with a dull knife seemed preferable.
“They got back a little while ago with Scorch,” Donovan said. “They’re upstairs.”
I felt a pang of something… not quite jealousy. I didn’t exactly get jealous, and certainly not of teenagers. It was just I didn’t usually feel like the third wheel
with Ri and Quinn. Until now. Pushing back my seat, I shuffled toward the stairs. “By the way, you’re gonna have to do my laundry for like a year when we get back home,” I said to Eli over my shoulder. “For making me do library duty without you.”
The door to Quinn and Riley’s room was mostly shut, and I knocked softly against the worn wood.
“Yeah,” Riley said.
I stepped in and our eyes met for a moment. Riley and I hadn’t ever gotten in a fight before, not a serious one. Just the usual, like when he borrowed one of my t-shirts and got a stain on it, or when we wanted to date the same guy.
“Uh, I’m looking for Quinn. To figure out the library plans.”
He nodded from where he sat on one of the beds. “She’s next door with Scorch.”
I paused. “Okay then.” I started to back out into the hallway.
“Zy, wait.”
I waited.
“I’m going to tell you something I haven’t told anybody outside of my old pack. Not even Quinn.” His hazel eyes were more serious than I’d ever seen them. “You should probably sit down.”
Slowly, I walked across the room and sat down on the bed opposite his.
He had one leg folded up on the bed, and he played with the frayed edges of his jeans absentmindedly, staring past me at a space on the wall. “I have a brother.”
The breath I’d been holding in my lungs left in a hurry. I didn’t know whether it was better to look at him or not look at him.
“Two years younger than me. We lived together, him and I and our parents, in a house on the compound where our pack lived. His name was—or is, I guess—Adam.” Riley closed his eyes for a moment, and I didn’t know what he was going to say, but his struggle was obvious. He was in pain, and I wanted to punish whoever had caused it. “Adam was always hot-blooded, even for a werewolf. Losing his temper all the time, getting in fights. When he was in his late teens, he was constantly picking fights with other packs, risking our exposure to the outside world. This was before Evo, of course, before humans knew about us.
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