Covert Fae

by C. N. Crawford

  Kratos’s gaze flicked to him. “Be honest, Johnny. You really don’t know anything about the history of the world.”

  Johnny shrugged, popping his gum. “Can’t argue with that.” Suddenly, his blue eyes sharpened, his jaw stilling. An icy chill fell over the room, and he took a few slow steps closer to me.

  As he did, a wild hunger began to grip my stomach, and I had the strangest feeling that Johnny was causing it. I clutched my gut, practically drooling.

  “Kratos.” Johnny’s eyes narrowed on me. “How much do you know about this demoness, exactly? What if she’s here to find out things about us, pass it on to the humans so they can resist us? Wouldn’t want dangerous types in here, would we? Unsavory types?”

  “I know she’s not working with the Order, because I watched them shoot her, and I watched her beat one of them within an inch of his life.” Kratos arched an eyebrow. “Something on your mind, Johnny?”

  Johnny cocked his head. “Maybe I did a little research with the sentinels. Maybe I unearthed a few things about a vindictive and maniacal demoness slaughtering people willy-nilly.”

  I raised my hand. “I’m right here, you know.”

  Kratos’s body glowed with gold light. “Care to share?”

  Johnny curled his lip in a sneer. “The day you brought her here, she murdered a man in cold blood. Beat him half to death, stabbed him. Shot him with an arrow or two. Watched him die in the street. I just wanted to be sure you were aware of what sort of person you picked up off the street, though of course, if you’re bringing home stray demons, you might not be too particular.”

  I opened my eyes wide, as though I’d been caught. As though I hadn’t set this all up to prove that I didn’t care about humans.

  Kratos blinked. “I don’t understand your objection. You love killing people.” He turned away from Johnny, quirking a smile at me. “Burn it all to the ground. Start again, right, Ruby?”

  I smiled. “Exactly.”

  Johnny crossed his arms. “She might try to slit my throat in my sleep. Wouldn’t kill me, but it would be unpleasant. How do you know she’s not some sort of a Trojan horse?”

  I blinked. “Do you expect an army to burst out of my chest at any moment?”

  “Not a literal horse.” Johnny scowled. “It’s like… a metaphor. And anyway, why do I think this has more to do with how she looks than anything else? She’ll distract us from our mission.”

  The idiot was on to something, because that’s exactly what I had planned, along with thwarting their mission entirely. Once I figured out what the hell it was.

  Kratos remained silent, but I could almost feel the tension rolling off him, and something about it terrified me at a primal level. “Do you really think I would let anything distract me from my mission? I know what happens if we fail.”

  I don’t. But maybe that can be objective number one.

  Johnny scratched his cheek. “Nah. Of course I don’t think you’ll forget our goals. Just be careful.”

  Kratos’s jaw tensed. “I have work to do. Don’t harass my guest.”

  And with that, he strode out of the room.

  Johnny pointed a long, bony finger at me. “I’ll be watching you, succubus. And Adonis will too.”

  As Johnny let the door slam behind him, another sentinel floated by, eyes wide.

  Oh believe me, Johnny, I know never to relax here.

  Chapter 15

  Someone must have drugged my tea, because I slept more in those two days than I’d slept in the past few weeks put together. Curled up in the silky sheets, with light beaming through the tall, open windows, I’d dreamt of those four black suns darkening the sky. Sometimes I dreamt of a black, thorny throne towering above me, its beauty luring me in and sharp spikes warning me away at the same time. Each time I woke up, the pain in my shoulder had subsided a little more.

  As the thick fog of sleep began to clear, I stared out the window at the reddening sunlight. I’d woken at sunset. In the forest, I caught a glimpse of Kratos and his hounds moving between the trees—those flashes of ivory, gold, and red. I shuddered at the sight.

  I was pretty sure that, two days in a row, I’d missed my early morning summons from Yasmin. I could only hope she hadn’t spent too much time lingering in reflections until the sentinels spied her.

  Tracing my fingertips over my bandage, I tested my wound. I could hardly feel the ache in my shoulder at all. When I peeked under the bandage, I found the wound almost closed up. Fae, like demons, healed fast, but some magic had been at work here too, knitting veins and tendons together until I barely had a scar.

  When the sun drifted lower behind the oak boughs, energy buzzed through my body, and I sat up in bed. Now that I’d recovered, it would be time to set to work learning about this place, even as I waited for my guided tour with the warrior-virgin.

  For now, I remained locked in my room. As soon as I had earned enough trust, I needed to investigate that magical forest and find out what the gods were trying to tell us. I mean, assuming Yasmin wasn’t completely full of shit—which, quite frankly, was a big assumption.

  But while locked in here, I supposed I could start with the vast library around me. Kratos had said he’d learned about the human race through books. Now I’d find out what he thought of them.

  As requested, a fire had been burning in the fireplace day and night since my first night here.

  Dressed in my rose-pink nightgown, I stood, stretching my arms over my head. Even with the shadows lengthening over the wintry ground outside, the fire warmed the room.

  First on the agenda, I wanted to learn what I could about this luxurious prison.

  I started with the vast tapestry across from my bed—the one I stared at every time I opened my eyes. In the light of day, I’d a better view of it. Vibrant gold, blue, and red threads depicted a battle scene, one in which a man sat atop a white horse, his head gleaming with a golden halo of light, gripping an enormous golden sword.

  Kratos really wanted me to worship him, didn’t he? I had a feeling he’d put me in a room specifically designed to glorify his exploits through the medium of needlework.

  Honestly. Apparently, even angelic men craved phallic symbols to feel good about themselves. Nothing particularly illuminating there.

  Time to move on to the upper story. The book selection would give me a window into Kratos’s mind.

  I crossed to the spiral stairwell—a set of narrow, winding steps that led up to the books. On the balcony level, the air cooled. Shelves of dusty books spanned the three walls of the mezzanine floor. I crossed to the side above the canopied bed, where I found row after row of books about war.

  Given the tapestry on the wall, I supposed it wasn’t surprising. The dude was into war. The books began with the ancient Greek section: the histories of the Peloponnesian war and the Persian expedition. I scrolled past tomes about Napoleon, Sun Tzu, Genghis Khan, Hannibal and Scipio, and Caesar.

  The war books gave way to books about leadership strategy and philosophy: Machiavelli, Thomas More, Hume, Aquinas, Kant, Plato, Nietzsche.

  Boy, these angels really knew how to have fun. I didn’t suppose I’d find any beach romances in here to pass the time.

  On the next wall—the one above the fireplace—I found Greek tragedies that blended into shelves of epic poems: the Iliad, the Odyssey, Beowulf, Gilgamesh, Metamorphoses, and so on. Shakespeare lined these shelves, too—mostly the tragedies, but The Tempest was there as well. I snatched it off the shelf—I liked a little magic in my books, a little escapism, and this could make for some bedtime reading.

  On the final wall, I found the tragedies. Not the Shakespearean tragedies; the real tragedies.

  Here I found the history books chronicling some of the worst events in human history. The Ephesian Vespers Massacre, the Massacre of Thessaloniki, the Crusades, preventable famines, Byzantine massacres, the European invasion of the Americas—and on and on until I got to the world wars and the thick tomes about the Holocau
st. My throat tightened.

  Okay. So this was what Kratos had learned about humans. Obviously, he didn’t have a very rosy view of humanity, and after reading the titles on the spines of all these books, I had to admit my feelings about the human race had soured a bit as well. No wonder he preferred his hounds.

  I hadn’t learned anything about dragons, but at least I’d gathered insight into Kratos’s mindset: war and conquest, and the heart of a warrior, coupled with complete and utter disgust at the entire history of humanity.

  Slightly depressed, I descended the stairs, clutching The Tempest under my arm. When I glanced out the window, I glimpsed a sentinel drifting past.

  I let out a long breath. Well, I could always explain that I was looking for a good beach romance.

  A chill had crept over my skin, and I wanted desperately to settle into a warm bath. Padding across the bare flagstones, I headed for the bathroom. A silver tub stood in the center of a stone room, right in front of another tall window that overlooked the forest.

  On the opposite wall, I eyed another tapestry of Kratos, this time standing proudly with his sword. In fact, he was standing proudly on another man, whose ugly features were contorted in pain. A nice soothing image of violent domination to accompany my relaxing bath.

  I turned on the steaming water, and as the tub filled, I decided to do a slight bit of redecorating in the bathroom so as to be ready for Yasmin’s communications.

  A gilded mirror hung on one wall. In one corner of the bathroom, an alcove was inset into the walls. This is where I found the toilet and a wooden hamper containing fresh towels. If I stood in the alcove, the sentinels couldn’t see me. Seemed like a perfect place for the mirror if Yasmin would be flickering into the room.

  I pulled the towels from the hamper, dropping one by the bath. Then, when the view was free of sentinels, I crossed to the gilded mirror. I hoisted it off the wall and carried it to the alcove, where I rested it on the empty hamper.

  Now I had a little communication center, assuming I could get Yasmin over here.

  I peered out of the alcove. As another sentinel drifted past the window, I shuddered at the idea that they’d be watching me in the bath. Still, I supposed the watchful eyes of the sentinels weren’t the worst thing in the world. I had a feeling the sentinels had no real blood running through their veins, and they’d feel nothing at the sight of me naked. Not that I knew for sure.

  Unlike Kratos.

  As the bath filled up, I pulled off my nightgown and underwear. Slowly, I slipped into the steaming water. After a few minutes, I was working up a lather over my body with the rose-and-poppy-scented soap.

  As the sentinels drifted past, staring at me in the bath, I began to measure the intervals. If I was going to hide anything from their view, I’d need to know exactly how much time I had between their drive-by viewings.

  By my calculations, I had between four and six minutes. That was it. Not a ton of time to stage a coup against lethal, immortal beings, but I’d do what I could.

  For just a moment, I closed my eyes, trying to imagine the angel named Adonis. Mostly, I remembered he’d been terrifying. As I breathed in the rose-scented air, his image blazed in my mind. Golden skin, gray-blue eyes with silver flecks, that dark sweep of hair…

  Then a vision of Kratos burned in my mind, his body glowing with gold. By the way he’d devoured me with his gaze, I knew he lusted after me. I hated him, and I planned to kill him—but for some reason, I didn’t mind the thought of him fantasizing about me. I needed to find out exactly what the angels had meant about becoming fallen. If seducing him meant I could destroy his mission—would I actually do it?

  I opened my eyes, finding my skin flushed in the hot water.

  I leaned over the side of the tub, snatching the copy of The Tempest off the floor.

  I thumbed through it, frowning at the damp smudges my fingerprints left. My gaze swept over the word library, and I read a bit of dialogue:

  Me, poor man, my library

  Was dukedom large enough.

  If only that were enough for Kratos. If only he didn’t feel the need to conquer the Earth.

  As I sank deeper into the bath, the steam enveloped me, easing my mind—until a familiar power rippling over my skin.

  Slowly, I turned my head to find Kratos looming in the doorway, as if I’d lured him here with my thoughts.

  Chapter 16

  I dropped the book on the floor. My first impulse was to scream at him to leave, but that is not what a seductive succubus would do. Instead, I schooled my features to calm. I even sat up a little in the bath—high enough to give him a view of the suds on the tops of my breasts.

  He stood there with a sort of slack-jawed look on his face, his eyes burning into me. He really had been isolated, hadn’t he?

  “Can I help you with something?” I asked. Soap slowly dripped down my arm, pooling on the stone floor.

  Kratos was supposed to be the terrifying angel of death. And yet, with the stunned look on his face, I felt like the one in control.

  “I should have knocked. I’m not used to…” A muscle clenched in his jaw, and he turned around, his shoulders tense. He spoke with his back to me. “I just came to check on you, and when I didn’t see you in the bedroom… How is your shoulder?”

  “I’m fine. Just doing a bit of reading in the bath.”

  A pulse of golden light brightened the air around him. Through his finely cut clothes, I could see tension rippling through every one of his chiseled muscles. “If you’re feeling better, I thought you might want a tour of the castle.”

  Why yes, actually. That’s exactly what I want. I want to find out everything I can about you people so I can kill you.

  “Are you going to show me around yourself?” I asked.

  “I plan to give you the aerial tour.”

  Interesting. And unnerving. I rose from the bathtub, watching him glow brighter at the sound of water dripping from my body into the bath.

  “I’ll just get dressed,” I said.

  “I’ll wait outside.” He strode out of the room, his golden aura trailing behind him.

  It seemed I’d be flying in the arms of a death angel tonight.

  While I’d stood wrapped in a towel, Elan had bustled into the room wearing a sweater knitted with the image of a grumpy cat. He’d laid out carefully selected clothing for me—black leather pants, a cream-colored blouse, and a fitted, berry-blue coat to keep me warm in the January air.

  I left the coat unbuttoned and kept the blouse wide open at the collar. I didn’t want to get too close to the murderous psycho, but so far, my cleavage had been my best leverage over him.

  As soon as I finished dressing, I pulled open the door to find Kratos standing in the dim hallway, torchlight dancing over the chiseled planes of his face.

  “I like the way you decorated the bedroom.” I smiled coquettishly. “Lots of images of you killing people.”

  He began walking, his footsteps echoing off the walls. “It’s what I do best. It’s my gift and my curse.”

  Interesting. “Why your curse?”

  “I was born to conquer. Killing is my sacred duty, and I’m compelled to do it. But of course, it comes with isolation.”

  A lot to pick apart there. Starting with: “What do you mean you’re compelled to kill?”

  He cut me a sharp look. “It’s not important.”

  Oh but it is, Kratos. It’s the most important thing in the world.

  I trailed my fingertips along the cold stone walls, thinking of what he’d said about isolation. Of course he couldn’t get too close to anyone if his job was to kill them all—even if he longed for contact.

  As we walked on, I glanced outside. Here, the narrow windows overlooked the forest.

  He took a sharp left into a winding stairwell, and we began climbing the stairs.

  “What were you reading in there?” he asked.

  “The Tempest. Or at least, I’d started it when an angel interrupted me.
”

  “I don’t suppose a succubus would be interested in the war books.”

  “I’ll get to them.” Here in the stairwell, a draft rippled over my skin. “But since you’ve learned about humans mostly from books, don’t you think you should expand your collection beyond all the death, maybe? Try some romances.”

  “It’s not just death books. I’ve made it a point to learn about human history. Some brilliant thinkers: Kant, Descartes. They understood duty for a higher purpose.”

  “Duty for a higher purpose…” I repeated. You mean like being compelled to kill. “And what is your sacred duty, exactly, besides hunting people?”

  “To restore the Earth’s natural balance. Long ago, when humans lived among the other beasts, there was a natural balance. Humans lived with a sort of peace in their minds before divine knowledge poisoned them. Their species are savages infected by a brilliance they cannot handle, that becomes a destructive force.”

  I sighed. “I think maybe the savagery has gotten worse since you unleashed all the death.”

  “I’m hardly responsible for all the death. In any case, the changes to civilization have only brought the brutality out into the open. The confines of human society offer their own brutality. If one group of men is given complete control over another group of men, they treat them worse than dogs. That is human nature. They are wild animals the gods mistakenly imbued with angelic cognition.”

  He had a point. I thought of an experiment I’d learned about in one of my college psychology classes, when college students had imprisoned their classmates under controlled conditions. It had turned out even worse than you might imagine.

  Still, Kratos had only learned about humans from books. He didn’t know the people that I did—people like Alex, who always tried to cheer everyone up, who gave Katie his extra food when she was feeling sick.

  But I couldn’t tell him about Alex, could I? I couldn’t tell him anything real.

  I still needed to understand his mental state. “So that’s why you’re compelled to kill.”