Taking it from him, I yawned, no longer convinced anyone was turning up. “No problem.”
Standing on my tiptoes, I peered through the window at the empty square as Gabriel walked back toward the church.
After a few moments, the hair on the back of my neck began to stand on end. A lone figure stalked through the square, her blonde hair tumbling over a red dress.
All my doubts melted away in an instant, sleepiness replaced with tension and excitement.
That’s her.
Frantically, I looked behind me for Gabriel, but he’d melted into the shadows. Where the hell was he? I couldn’t run to find him now, not when our victim was walking right up to the scene from my vision.
The woman’s high heels echoed off the stone as she walked hurriedly, clutching a phone. She was texting, just as I had seen in the vision, her attention focused completely on the screen, oblivious to the street around her.
Then, as if materializing from the shadows, a huge figure appeared, following her. He made no sound, his footsteps as soft as a tiger’s.
The man wore a black hood that hid his face completely, a monk’s cowl—a grim reaper. Despite his silence, he moved fast and gracefully, like ink pooling in water. He was gaining on the girl with every step.
Roan?
I couldn’t tell in the dark. He was certainly the right size, and there were few people as large as Roan. The predatory way he moved somehow reminded me of Roan as well, like a wolf in a world full of sheep. But I couldn’t be sure. Still—they were nearly at the placard. I needed to act now.
“Gabriel!” I shouted into the darkness. “Call for backup!”
The killer was now fewer than a dozen feet away from her.
I slammed through the door. The killer wasn’t the only predator in town.
With a sinking feeling of horror I saw my vision come to life. The killer drew a bottle full of dark liquid from his pocket, within hitting distance of the woman. As he lifted his other hand to grab her, I ran toward them, screaming, “Stop! Police!”
The woman’s fear was sharp and fast, and hit me like a jolt of electricity. It sent a surge of strength coursing through my veins, my heart pulsing, my speed increasing. I slammed into the killer with my full force.
It was like crashing into a brick wall. The Taser flew from my grasp.
He hardly budged as the full brunt of the collision vibrated through my body, my breath knocked out. An iron fist slammed into my head, and my vision dimmed as I fell back, gasping.
What happened next seemed to happen at hyper-speed, so fast I could hardly track it. The killer raised the plastic bottle and squeezed. A jet of liquid shot out, hitting me squarely in the chest, the smell of gasoline sharp and unmistakable. Raw panic ripped my mind apart.
I stared, paralyzed in terror as he held up a lighter—the same blue one from my vision. He sparked it. For just a moment, the tiny flame flickered and shimmered against the night sky, then he dropped the lighter to the stone.
Flames snaked up a trail of gasoline, and visions of blackening skin seared my mind. Panicking, I rolled away from the flames, then jumped to my feet. I watched the trail of flame as it crawled toward me, and then it stopped, less than a foot away from me. I took another step backward, the stench of gasoline enveloping me.
Gabriel ran past me, bending to pick up the Taser from the ground. He fired it at the killer. But the man dodged, his movements a blur of black. Somehow, he’d evaded the shot. I thought I caught a glimpse of blazing red eyes as he lunged forward, punching Gabriel in the chest. I thought I could hear ribs cracking, and the blow knocked Gabriel off his feet. He landed hard on the stones twenty feet from where he’d been, head smacking hard on the ground. My heart skipped a beat. Gabriel.
The hooded man turned for me, red eyes piercing. He picked up the lighter, raised it, and flicked it to life. Then he pounced at me.
He could have easily broken my neck, but he was intent on setting me on fire. Fae or human, he was obsessed with a certain fantasy, and refused to let it go. Instead of kicking and punching me to death, he grabbed my neck and brought the lighter closer to my shirt. My hands shot forward, clutching his wrist, trying to force it away.
I was no match for his strength, and the lighter came closer and closer, inches from my chest. I stared as the dancing flame nearly touched my gasoline-drenched clothes.
But like I always said, a well-placed kick to the balls could fell even the largest of men. And I delivered one hell of a kick.
The lighter tumbled from his hands as he groaned, folding. I grabbed the lighter from the ground and threw it as far away as I could. In the distance, sirens wailed—Gabriel’s backup. I just had to hold on for a minute or two.
The killer straightened, and I tried to make out his features under his cowl. Neither of us moved for what felt like eternity, though it probably wasn’t more than two seconds.
Then he turned and ran.
“Damn it!” I cursed. I hesitated for a moment, torn between chasing him and staying with Gabriel. Concern won as I knelt by Gabriel’s side. He was on his side, breathing with effort.
“Go after him,” he whispered. “I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“For fuck’s sake. Go, you daft twat!”
Good enough for me.
The killer had taken off down a narrow alley, and had a hundred yards on me when I began running after him. He turned down another winding alley. When I got to the alley entrance, he was gone, but I sprinted anyway. Maybe I could catch another glimpse of him. I pumped my arms, running hard, my heart pounding. I emerged onto a different street, lined by clothing shops. I turned to a window, catching a glimpse of my own panicked reflection.
I had but one thought in my mind—the thought that I needed to find the killer.
I ran at the window, mentally bonding with it until its magic pooled in my mind. Running for it was as natural as breathing. It wasn’t a window, or a reflection at all. It was a part of me, pulling me toward it. There was a different reflection, not far away, and I could imagine the killer standing next to it. I could bring them together, opening a portal between them—just like I could lift my hand, or blink, or cough.
I envisioned the killer’s form as I plunged through the reflection. As the cool magic slid over my skin, the world around me flickered, shimmering into bright colors and strange faces.
Chapter 17
I fell to my knees, disoriented from the leap. My hands slapped on cobblestones, carpeted with soft, shiny moss. The spaces between them teemed with cowslips and foxglove. Where the hell was I?
Music filtered through the air, soft and ethereal. Wispy tendrils of colors swirled all around me, caressing my skin. As I lifted my head, I blinked in shock. Somehow, I’d come to the open-air hall Roan had shown me through the London Stone.
The space brimmed with figures dressed in thick cloaks tied up tightly at their necks, wool the color of snow and honey, berries and moss. No one seemed human. In fact, many of the people around me had horns, tails, hooves—some even had wings. Hair and eyelashes of sky blue, lavender, and silver. Some radiated strange colored lights, and their skin tones ranged from pure black to a translucent white that shimmered under the twinkling, star-flecked sky.
From my knees, I watched as a man, taller than most, strode through the hall, not far from me. The crowd seemed to part before him. He wore a golden crown on his deep-copper hair, and a gold skull clasp on a blue cloak. Long black claws grew from the ends of his pale fingertips. Instinctively, I did everything I could to avoid his gaze, sinking lower to the floor. Was he the king? Gracefully, he turned again, gliding into the crowd. Around him, the fae stiffened as he walked past.
I swallowed hard. I needed backup, if that was possible. Still on my knees, I reached for my quilted bag, rummaging around for the cell phone. I pulled it out, staring at the screen. No reception. I shoved it back in my bag again.
I had two options here. I could either leave quickly and
try to find my way back to London, knowing I was outnumbered by hundreds of potential monsters. Or I could stay for a few minutes, hoping to get a glimpse of the unsub who’d been terrorizing London.
Slowly, I rose, mentally repeating my mantra. Be courteous, and be prepared to kill everyone you meet.
I surveyed the room, scanning the party guests. They stood in pairs, their bodies oddly restrained and tense under their cloaks. The women mostly wore their hair loose, flowers and seashells threaded through their tresses. The men stood tall and broad, oozing self-confidence and power. Everyone wore delicate, glimmering masks that hid the top half of their faces, only their eyes shining through.
Rows of guards stood along the walls, swords slung by their sides. They wore platinum and blue tunics with a strange heraldic emblem on the front: a skull submerged under water—the same symbol I’d seen in Leroy’s bar. Same as Gemma’s tattoo.
Above me, golden rib-vaults arched beneath the starry sky like a glittering ruin. The beauty of it all stole my breath.
And that’s when heads began turning to me. A winged couple nearby stared at me, murmuring with surprise.
A stunning, black-haired woman prowled toward me. “A three-born.” Her midnight cloak draped over her body. “What is her kind doing here?”
“Maybe she’s part of the entertainment,” a bearded man suggested. “Where’s your cloak, whore?”
A horned woman cocked her head, pulling her crimson cloak tighter. “Can you feel her? Her raw emotions? So exotic!”
I took a step back from them. This was certainly more attention than I’d bargained for. And given that everyone was a head taller than me, I couldn’t see through the gathering crowd to anyone who looked like the unsub.
Apparently, dressed in a man’s coat and stinking of gasoline, I didn’t exactly fit in here. The mood around me began to darken, the fae quickly closing in on me.
“Let’s have some fun,” a woman whispered. “We can take turns with her.”
A man with goat-like legs licked his lips. “The Rix is still here.” He cast a nervous glance over his shoulder. “We won’t let the king find out, will we? I want to taste her.”
Um, no.
Spotting a gap in the crowd, I dashed through it, sprinting for the hall through a chorus of gasps. In the vaulted hall, I glimpsed a small doorway inset into the stone. Behind me, I could hear the fae chasing me, their footsteps echoing off the tile. I pulled open the door to a smaller hallway, its white marble walls lined with torches. I ran as fast as my tired legs would take me.
My mind, unable to process it all, shut out the panic and impending meltdown that were clamoring for attention. I would focus only on the bare facts required for survival. Namely, getting the fuck away from the fae who wanted to “taste” me.
I bolted down the seemingly endless hallway, my heartbeat a loud drum in my chest, my breath ragged. The long chase with the serial killer had already exhausted me. I stumbled and nearly fell more than once, hearing my hunters’ shrieks of laughter echoing through the narrow hallway.
As I ran, dread began to bloom in my chest. I could see now that the hall led to nowhere, and a locked metal gate blocked my path. I whirled around, listening to the oncoming footfalls.
The mirror! I had a compact mirror in my bag. I got here through a reflection, and I could get out through one! I rummaged in my bag, my pulse accelerating. Where was it?
A sudden memory struck me: getting the mirror from my bag last night as I lay in bed, to check the state of my bruised cheek. Had I returned it to the bag?
Of course I hadn’t.
My pursuers, five men and a woman, appeared around the curve of the hallway, only twenty feet away. They weren’t running anymore, but walking slowly, cruel smiles on their faces. I was cornered, and they knew it.
“Can you feel her fear?” the woman in front asked, her eyes pulsing green. She flashed a set of sharpened fangs.
“Delectable.” Goat-man began unbuttoning his shirt as he walked closer. “Take off your clothes, mongrel.”
“Are you scared, Lilive?” asked a man with slicked-back platinum hair.
“I’m not Lilive,” My voice trembled. “You’ve got the wrong woman.”
They all laughed, and the sound sent a shudder up my spine.
The woman’s laughter trilled like a nightingale. “Oh, I think not, mongrel.” She spoke with acidic delight. “You can’t hide from us, not even with that ghastly perfume. We’re going to put you in your place tonight.”
“It’s not perfume, it’s gasoline,” I said. “I was attacked—”
“Imagine that.” Goat-man took his shirt off, revealing a muscular torso. “I suppose this really isn’t your night. I’m afraid you won’t walk away from this, but you might crawl naked through our city. I can’t promise you’ll be left alone.”
“Step away from her.” A voice reverberated in the tunnel, deep and angry. A voice you wouldn’t fuck around with.
It was Roan. He’d come up behind them, the torchlight flickering on his golden skin. He stood wide-legged, fists clenched, dressed in a forest-green cloak, a hint of armor underneath. A metallic cuff, studded with emeralds, glinted on his wrist. When he turned his head, I caught a glimpse of phantom horns. I couldn’t decide if he looked like a god or a demon. Probably a little of both. And whether or not he was my unsub, I felt a strange flicker of relief at his arrival. At least he was calling off the hunt.
They looked at him, and one of the men sneered, “You can have her once we’re done with her, Taranis. Look at how she’s dressed, showing off her legs.”
“None of you will touch her,” Roan said.
Hungrily, the woman growled. “I just liked the way she felt. That’s all.”
He snarled, his green eyes flickering in the torchlight. Then, without warning, he leapt, slamming into Goat-man, crushing him against the wall. He gripped the man’s head, twisting it with a crack.
The woman turned back to me, her sharp teeth gleaming. “Now, mongrel—”
I slammed my fist into her stomach, and when she bent over, my knee caught her in her face.
Another man turned to me, hissing, and I glimpsed his tongue for a second—black and forked like a snake’s. He lunged at me, and I moved sideways, trying to kick him. He moved impossibly fast, dodging my kick. He grabbed me and threw me against the portcullis. Pain shot through my head as it hit the cold metal, and I sank to my knees, the world dimming. In the background I could hear screams of anger and pain, the cracking of bones.
“Now, thhhhhree-born.” The man’s tongue licked the air. “I will usssssse you the way I want to.”
He grabbed me, lifting me to my feet, and tore Gabriel’s coat off my body. His strength was inhuman. He held the tatters of the coat in his hands, looking at my clothes.
“That’ssssss an ugly cosssstume. Take it off, or I’ll do it for you.”
“Sure thing.” Instead, I lunged for the wall, and pulled a torch from its sconce. I swung the burning torch at him.
“I’m not afraid of a little flame.” Amusement glinted in his eyes. Just over his shoulder, I could see Roan smashing another fae skull into the wall. Apparently four-to-one odds were okay for him.
“Who said anything about little flames?” I darted forward, touching the torch to the gasoline-soaked coat in his hands. Flames blazed from the cloth, engulfing his fingers.
He shrieked in agony, dropping the coat, but his hands still burned, and the scent of charred flesh filled the air, sickening me. I took a step back, holding the torch carefully away from my own gasoline-soaked clothes.
In the next moment, Roan slammed a fist into the man’s chest—literally into it, snapping through bone. He pulled out the creature’s heart, and the burning man fell to the floor.
I stared at them both, my eyes wide. Blood dripped down Roan’s hand, and he let the heart drop to the floor.
A deathly silence reigned as our eyes met, his stare demonic and cold.
Cha
pter 18
I blinked at him in shock, staring at the carnage. The six bodies of my pursuers all lay on the floor. Apart from the snake guy, all their necks were twisted at odd angles.
I swallowed hard. “You killed them all.”
Roan shook his head. “No. They’ll live.” He nodded at the man with no heart. “Not that one, obviously, but I’ve been wanting to kill him for a while.” His tone was casual, as if he were talking about trimming hedges.
My legs were shaking uncontrollably. “Thanks for stopping them. I guess.” I wasn’t sure yet if I was thanking a serial killer. Given the way he’d just dispatched that man, it seemed likely.
“That makes two times I’ve saved you.” He walked over to me, blood dripping from his hand onto the stone. “You draw trouble to you like a lilac draws bees.”
“Why were they so intent on me?”
“Your kind provide a certain carnal pleasure to fae.” His gaze roved over my body. “Those who can’t control their urges are often susceptible to it.”
“My kind? What, humans?”
He arched an eyebrow. “Sure.” Suddenly his features hardened, and shadows darkened his eyes. “Now tell me what the fuck you’re doing here.”
I had the strongest urge to lower my gaze, but I held his stare. “I heard there was an amazing party, but I have to say the music kind of sucked, and not a single person has offered me a drink yet.” He was crazy if he thought I was going to tell him everything I knew.
He folded his arms. “Is that so.”
Ignoring my raw fear, my eyes met his squarely, my jaw clenching tight. “You stole evidence from the morgue.”
“Yes.” He didn’t even flinch at the accusation.
“Why?”
“You have your methods of investigation, and I have mine.”
Agent of Enchantment (Dark Fae FBI Book 1) Page 14