Covert Fae

by C. N. Crawford

  Something bright glinted in the corner of my vision, a flare of copper light, and my breath caught in my throat. Kratos is coming already.

  My pulse began to race. If he came within two hundred yards of us, I had a feeling we’d all be dead within moments, with a flick of his wrist.

  This part of the performance was just for the sentinels. We wanted them to report everything to Kratos. We just didn’t want him to be here for all of it.

  I sped up my pace, moving closer to the trio of Watchers.

  The one with the gun shouted into the air. “If the Hunter wants his dog back, he’d better meet our demands!”

  I readied my bow, squinting at the Watchers. If I freed the hound while they stood nearby, the beast would tear them to pieces. I had to deal with them first. My gaze flicked to the sentinels, a horde of them hovering above us.

  Then I took aim at the Watchers, unleashing a furious volley of arrows. I purposefully allowed many of them to go wide, cheerfully calling out, “Whoops!”

  But some of the arrows pierced their arms, their stomachs and chests. Their screams pierced the silence—faked, of course. They’d come prepared with armor under their leather clothes. Unbeknownst to the sentinels, the arrows simply sank into their armor, leaving their flesh untouched. I was careful to avoid their limbs and heads.

  Still, the blows I was about to deliver wouldn’t be as painless—nor the one I was going to receive.

  From further down Bishopsgate, the coppery light grew brighter, and Yasmin’s words echoed in my mind. You will shine like a beacon in the shadows. Kratos was moving closer.

  I forced myself to tear my gaze from him, eyes on the Watchers again. Stay focused on your performance, Ruby. Just as I was closing in on them, headlights flashed. A battered old taxicab screeched around the corner—right on cue. It slammed to a halt in front of the Watchers, who began frantically hobbling toward it, feigning pain.

  I pulled my baton from my quiver, sprinting over to the Watchers. Just as the last Watcher was getting to the taxi, I reached him and brought my baton down hard on his back. “Human vermin!” I shouted.

  The Watcher fell to his knees, arrows jutting from his body. From above, the sentinels observed my performance.

  My gaze flicked to the copper light, where Kratos now appeared, his horse’s hooves pounding furiously over the pavement. His outstretched wings seemed to glow with divine light, so beautiful I wanted to bathe in it. Around him, his hounds bayed, as adrenaline burned through my nerve endings. For just a moment, I nearly forgot my mission.

  But my performance wasn’t done. I had to make sure the angels would never associate me with the Watchers.

  I refocused, slamming the baton into the Watcher’s arm, his jaw, silencing the part of my mind that begged for mercy.

  The Watcher fell forward, his limp body slumped over the car seat.

  One of the others leaned forward, grabbing my arm. “Take it easy. That’s good enough.”

  Genuine fear tinged his voice, but I needed this to look real if I was going to survive. Blocking out the civilized part of my mind, I slammed the baton down hard again into the Watcher’s shoulder blade. I wasn’t fae anymore—Angela Death was a demon of shadows. The crack of bone didn’t even make me wince. Angela Death was born to punish humans.

  I lifted the baton again to bring it down into his arm.

  I didn’t even see the Watcher pull a gun. I just heard the sharp report of gunfire, and pain slamming into my shoulder. I fell back hard on the pavement.

  It took a few terrifying moments for the pain to register.

  From the sidewalk, I heard the Watchers slam the door, then the sound of tires screeching over the pavement. At least they’d gotten away safely—apart from the one I’d nearly beaten to death.

  When the pain registered at last, the agony stole the breath from my lungs. They’d shot me in the shoulder—just like we’d planned. It hurt even more than they’d described.

  Still, four-thousand-year-old succubi didn’t crumple in the face of pain. Gritting my teeth, I pushed myself up on my elbows. Kratos’s gleaming white horse hammered the pavement, racing closer. Moonlight glinted over his coppery wings.

  At the sight of him, my heart slammed against my ribs. He was heading right for me. Just before he reached the trapped hound, he reared his horse to a sharp halt. The horse snorted, steam rising from its nostrils.

  Surrounded by his hounds, Kratos stared at me, his amber eyes boring into mine. He wasn’t making a move for his hound yet; he was still trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

  Slowly, blocking out the pain, I rose. Agony ripped my shoulder apart as I stood. “Those humans think they can mess with immortals like us.” I laced my voice with ancient arrogance, keeping it steady as I spoke. “I wanted to teach them a lesson.”

  I nodded at the net. “I’d shoot him down, but I haven’t got very good aim.” Bullshit.

  Gracefully, Kratos jumped off his horse. He stalked toward me, golden light radiating around him. As he drew nearer, warmth pooled off his body. Part of me wanted to shoot him right then and there, but he’d survive it, and I’d lose any chance of helping Hazel or anyone else.

  He held out his hand. “Give me your bow.”

  I handed over my bow and a few arrows, watching as Kratos aimed at the rope that connected the netting to the streetlamp. He unleashed one arrow, then another, with perfect precision, until they’d ripped through the rope.

  The hound dropped to the sidewalk, yelping and snarling, then freed himself from the netting. He turned to us, slowly padding closer, his red eyes on me.

  I sucked in short, sharp breaths, trying to manage my agony and fear. When the hound reached me, he sniffed my hand, his ears flattening on his head. He snarled.

  Did he remember my scent from weeks ago? Maybe he remembered his master commanding him to leave me alive.

  When I looked at Kratos again, he was still staring at me. “Tell me exactly what you saw. How did Culloch end up in that net?”

  I pretended that blood wasn’t roaring in my ears, that my heart wasn’t threatening to gallop out of my chest. “Culloch? Is that your hound’s name?”

  Culloch began to lick the blood off my arm, his tongue hot on my skin. Inwardly, I shuddered.

  “Yes. Why did you risk your safety to help him?” Kratos asked sharply. Around him, his hounds snarled, teeth bared.

  I shoved my fear deep below the surface. “Risk myself? Should I be afraid of humans? What’s next? Should I cower in a ditch when I see a horde of rats? Anyway, I prefer hounds to humans, as it happens.”

  “You did take a risk. They shot you,” he pointed out.

  I narrowed my eyes at him, touching my shoulder. “This? I’m immortal. I’ll outlive them, just like I’ve outlived generations of humans. We have a new landscape now. While the humans suffer, eating rats and living in filth, I will flourish once again. They will worship me again, or they can die in a hailstorm of arrows.” I smiled coyly. “As soon as I learn how to aim. Maybe you could teach me.”

  For just a moment, his eyes flared with a golden light. I could only imagine that my haughtiness was enticing him, stoking his urge to conquer me.

  Then his amber gaze flicked to one of the sentinels. Immediately, the creature swooped down, hovering about ten feet away. Kratos crossed to him, leaning in close to hear what the creature had to impart.

  With any luck, the story would be just as we’d planned: the sloppy but ruthless murder of Dickhead, the attack on the Watchers. A succubus with limited fighting skills who wanted to kill humans as badly as the angels did.

  At last, the sentinel drifted away, and Kratos turned back to me. As he walked closer, a faint smile curled his lips. “How long have you been in London? A few weeks? And already you’re breaking men’s bones.”

  I sighed. “They got what was coming to them.”

  When he took another step closer, his power thrummed over my bare skin, hot and soothing. In fact, I coul
d have sworn it was taking some of the pain away from my shoulder.

  He narrowed his eyes. “I’ve seen you before, haven’t I, succubus? You were dressed like an angel.” He let his eyes linger over my body. “You were taking your clothes off on stage, if I recall.”

  I smiled, compelled to move closer to his soothing light. “Oh, I remember. In fact, I was hoping I’d run into you when I came to London.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Oh really?”

  “You were there when the dragons arrived. They took my sister.” He had been there when it had happened. I’d told him about it. I swallowed hard, mentally working overtime to transmute my rage and grief into something less threatening, like sass. “There aren’t many of us left, you know. I thought you might know where the dragons took their women.”

  He gazed down at me. “Succubi are wildly protective of their sisters, aren’t they?”

  “We’re an endangered species. Human males, demon males—they see something pretty, and they want to kill it. You know how it goes.”

  “Oh believe me, I know.”

  Well that’s… scary. “So I’d like to find those dragons of yours, slaughter them, and get my sister back.”

  “What makes you think your sister is still alive? And what makes you think they’re my dragons?”

  I choked down my anger. My objective was to get him to trust me, not to lose my shit.

  I folded my arms, trying to block out the pain screaming through my shoulder. “I just know.” That was a lie. I had no idea. I just had to believe it, or I’d lose my fucking mind.

  He shrugged. “I don’t control the dragons. They came out of their caves when I arrived, sent by another force. And I think my presence lured them, too. They’re attracted to conquest. That’s all.”

  “Conquest.” The word sounded oddly seductive on his tongue, and I watched his body tense when I repeated it, eyes flaring with gold.

  He had to know more than he was letting on. Right?

  Mentally, I tried to balance my different objectives. I couldn’t push him about the dragons when I was trying to get an invitation to Death Angel Palace. I needed to keep the big picture in mind. The big picture was… I blinked, my thoughts cloudy. In fact, the pain and the blood loss were starting to get to me.

  Maybe this was good. Maybe my vulnerability was an asset right now.

  I clutched my shoulder. “I don’t feel so well.” The first honest thing I’d said.

  He moved closer to me, his magic pulsing over my body, and I faltered.

  Deftly, Kratos swept his arm around me, steadying me against him. My heart pounded against his chest, and he made a noise like a low, pleased growl. His body radiated warmth and the scent of cedar smoke. If I hadn’t known what a monster he was, I’d have actually found this comforting.

  Gently, he touched my shoulder, his fingertips leaching away my pain. “You’re bleeding heavily. You need treatment.”

  “Those vermin shot me,” I said into his chest. “I don’t suppose you could help me hunt them down, since you’re going to be no help at all with the dragons.” Through my cloudy thoughts, I remembered to pout for the full effect.

  “I’m going to take you somewhere safe.”

  Perfect. “As long as there’s a warm bath.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Ruby.” I tightened my fingers around the rich, expensive fabric of his shirt. “When I dance, I’m Angela.”

  “Ruby, I’m going to take you with me.” Gently, he stroked his fingertips over my cheek. As he did, a strange, relaxing warmth pooled through my body, and I melted into his embrace. “I just can’t allow you to see how we get there.”

  A cloud of calm enveloped me, until I could no longer remember who I was or the specifics of my mission. I only knew that powerful arms had tightened around me, and as the sound of great wings beat the air, the cold January winds bit at my face.

  Chapter 13

  I woke surrounded by the smell of cedar smoke, my limbs bare under silky sheets. I didn’t want to open my eyes yet, afraid of what I might see. I’d been dreaming of four black suns in the sky and an empty throne of black thorns. The images had filled me with a cold sense of dread. Four suns? Why had I dreamt of that?

  Shadows pooled around me, chilling my skin. No one would know that a supposed succubus was scared of the dark.

  Slowly, I forced myself to pry my eyes open, and a wave of fear slammed into me as I discovered the night surrounding me like a funeral pall. As my eyes slowly adjusted, I slowed my breathing a little. Faint streams of moonlight filtered into the room through tall windows. Frantically, I looked for a lantern or a candle—and I found one, lying next to my bed by a box of matches.

  With shaking hands, I struck a match, immediately breathing easier at the sight of the guttering flame. I lit the candle, then held the brass candleholder out to investigate my surroundings.

  I found myself in a canopied bed. I swung my legs over the side, wincing at the throbbing pain in my shoulder, and stepped onto a cold flagstone floor, shivering at the chill in the room.

  A red-hued tapestry covered one of the stone walls, its embroidered image depicting images of war and victory, golden trumpets held aloft. Just to the right of the tapestry stood an arched oak door. I crossed to it, trying the doorknob—but I’d been locked inside. So that was a great start. Bit of a fire hazard.

  To my right, tall windows stretched high above my head—two stories high, in fact. No one had hung up curtains in here.

  From my vantage point, I could see movement in the woods outside—something white moving between the trees, something glowing with gold. It took me a moment to recognize that it was Kratos, riding through his woods with the pack of hounds surrounding him. The sight of the ghostly hunt sent a shiver of fear through my bones.

  I moved away from the window, carrying the candle around the circumference of the room. A great stone fireplace stood empty in one wall. I’d be asking if someone could light that in the future, so I didn’t have to wake up gripped by abject terror.

  Behind the canopied bed was a stone wall, bare except for an oak wardrobe, a full-length mirror, and an arched doorway. That would be a daytime exploration. I was already creeped out enough in this place.

  I peered up. Vaulted wooden ceilings soared above me, and a balcony divided the room into two stories. Without more light, I couldn’t quite see what was up there.

  Still, despite the eerie shadows, a sense of victory whispered through me. I’m in. I made it into the palace.

  Now that I’d gotten a look at the room, I thought I should inspect my own body. I sat on the edge of the bed, using the candle to illuminate myself. Just as I’d hoped, faint tendrils of charcoal glamour still curled off my body. My glamour had maintained, even while I was asleep. That was good news.

  Somebody had treated my gunshot wound, and a bandage now covered the hole, tinged with blood underneath. Pain still throbbed through my shoulder.

  I blinked with the sudden realization that if I’d ended up in this skimpy nightgown, someone had changed my clothes while I slept.

  Kratos? Had Kratos undressed me? In fact, not only was I in a different outfit, but I smelled different—my hair and skin scented of roses and poppies. Someone had bathed me. What the hell? And moreover, what had happened to the knife of Nyxobian silver that had been strapped to my thigh?

  My jaw clenched tightly at the violation. And making matters worse, a sentinel drifted past the window in the moonlight, gleaming eyes locked on me.

  I crawled back into the bed, sliding the candle across the bedside table. Feeling exposed, I pulled the crimson blankets tighter around me. What have I gotten myself into?

  As I clutched the blanket around me, the locked oak door unlatched and creaked open.

  A tall, stooped man stood in the doorway, his black hair falling over a high forehead. His pale skin practically gleamed in the light of his lantern. To my complete surprise, he was wearing a pink sweatshirt featuring
the grinning image of a gray cat.

  He smiled shyly at me. “I saw a light coming from under your door, so I knew you were awake. You slept for a full day, did you know that?” he chirped.

  I stared at him as he crossed into the room. Who the hell was this?

  “You look better,” he continued. “I mean, you’re not hemorrhaging blood anymore.” He cleared his throat. “Just so you know, it wasn’t me who dressed and bathed you. It was one of the female maids. Kratos said if I did anything untoward, he would gouge out my eyeballs and feed them to the crows.” He huffed a laugh. “He has the funniest turns of phrase. Not that I would do anything untoward anyway.”

  I raised my eyebrows, lowering my voice to the sophisticated timbre of a succubus. “Who are you, exactly?”

  “Oh! Right. I’m Elan. I serve the angels. I’m a…” he held his hand to his mouth to whisper conspiratorially. “I’m a fae.”

  “Is that a secret of some sort?”

  He wrinkled his nose. “Well, Adonis might skin me alive if he ever remembered that I existed, so…” He blinked at the moonlight. “You know, sometimes being forgettable has its perks.”

  I was beginning to get the impression that Elan might be an excellent source of information. “And who is Adonis?”

  His dark eyes widened. “Oh, you don’t know? He’s the one with the dark blue wings.” His eyes crinkled as he smiled. “He really loves death. I saw him vaporize a shadow demon a few days ago. Just blood and entrails everywhere—” He stopped himself short. “Sorry, you probably don’t want to hear this. It was actually pretty disturbing, now that I think about it.”

  Oh, wonderful. So Adonis could vaporize people, and he particularly hated the fae. I should be probing for more information, dizziness clouded my head, and I had a sudden urge to change the subject. In any case, if I could keep Elan friendly, maybe I could learn a lot from him.

  “I like your sweatshirt,” I said.

  He grinned. “Thanks. It’s the original internet cat. He’s dead.” His smile faded, and he sort of winced. “I’m not good with people.”