Agent of Chaos (Dark Fae FBI Book 2)

by Alex Rivers

  “There… there is no back door,” the woman said.

  Fulton exchanged looks with one of the men, and said something in a low voice. I watched as his lips formed the words. She’s in here.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, please leave the store!” Fulton shouted in his fake accent. “This is police business!”

  To my surprise, he flipped a badge—a local police badge. Maybe all the CIA operatives here had fake police badges for moments such as this. “Please leave the shop!” he shouted. “There is a dangerous criminal in here!”

  I watched as the young man from the changing booth, now wearing pants that were far too small for him, walked over to Fulton. He pointed behind him, though I couldn’t hear what he was saying. I had no doubt he was pointing Fulton to my changing booth, and my pulse raced. Fulton nodded at one of his men, who crept forward.

  I felt for the other reflections in the store, linking to one in the empty storage room, and quickly moved there, sliding through the mirror, its surface rushing over my skin like water.

  A second later I heard a spook shouting, “Clear!” from one of the other changing rooms.

  Siren screams pierced the air.

  I stared at the mirror, using it to monitor the store’s other reflections. An officer was pulling one curtain after another, yelling, “Clear,” each time, except for one instance, when an indignant sixty-year-old woman in a skirt and bra shouted at him. He apologized, closing the curtain.

  By now nearly everyone had left the store, and Fulton and his men spread out, searching for me.

  I needed to get Fulton alone. But I was exhausted, and my thoughts were racing. What I needed was more fear to energize my body.

  On the wall in the storage room hung an electricity box. Perfect.

  I yanked it open, shutting down the switches, plunging the shop into semi-darkness. Only the faint afternoon light from the front windows lit the place.

  With his gun drawn, Fulton was getting close to the storage room. I searched the mirrors, looking for an obscured reflection in the shop. I found one behind a rack of coats, and I took a step into the glass, letting it wash over my skin. My heart racing, I stepped out again behind the coats. Then, feeling for all the reflections in the store, I imagined them clouding, their surfaces covered in steam.

  A man’s voice called out, “What the…”

  I concentrated, forming letters on the mirrors, as if drawn by an invisible finger.

  Can you see me?

  “Sir…?”

  “Shut up, she’s listening to us.”

  Can you hear me?

  A man came close to the rack of coats that obscured me, and I jumped through the reflection back into one of the changing booths, using the mirror to keep careful tabs on the four men. One of them began to pulse in fear, and I felt the delicious tendrils of energy emanating from him, curling around my body.

  I let the mirror steam up again, then wrote, I can see you.

  “Perhaps we should get backup…”

  “She’s just playing with your mind. She’s one woman, dammit!”

  More steam, then, You should run.

  “Ignore those damn mirrors!” Fulton yelled, no longer bothering with the British accent.

  RUN.

  I let out a small laugh, a creepy giggle, and two of the men whirled, their guns pointed. One of them shook visibly. I was the bogeyman, the ghost in the haunted house, the thing that went bump in the night.

  “There!” Fulton shouted, dashing for my changing room, but when he pulled the curtain aside, I’d already slipped through the glass, now laughing in a different part of the store. I pushed a small rack of clothing down, letting it smash to the floor, then jumped through the reflection again, always moving, always out of sight.

  These men were terrified. And they should be. With their fear blazing through my body, I was stronger than any of them, faster than any of them. The fear that made them jittery and unfocused sharpened my thoughts to a fine-point needle.

  I focused on the mirrors again, clouding them with dark mist. In the mist, I imagined strange figures slithering, never completely in sight.

  A shot rang out, shattering glass. One of the men had shot a mirror. The surface fragmented, and I focused on that mirror, letting the figures in it grow closer, angry red eyes glaring in the murk.

  An officer stood by a changing room. When he turned his back to me, I shimmered into that room and grabbed him from behind, blocking his mouth and nose. He pulled at my hand, desperate to breathe.

  Too bad for him. I was much stronger than him now. At last, his body went lax, unconscious. I gently laid him on the floor, pulling the gun from him, shoving it in my bag. Then, I linked to the mirror behind me, imagining his terrified face in a mirror in the main room, the smoke enveloping his body as he screamed soundlessly, dark figures closing in around him.

  “They have Curtis!” someone shrieked.

  I heard the bell ding as the front door barged open, one of them fleeing.

  “Scan the mirrors,” Fulton shouted. “I want the magic print of this bitch.”

  The other officer moved closer to one of the mirrors, his face milky white. Through my bond with the mirror, I shifted the reflection, and imagined him appearing in it, eyes wide, hand trembling as he moved the scanner. Then, I created a slender, gray-skinned woman with gaping eye cavities. She stepped up behind him, her mouth wide, reaching for his throat. Screaming, he whirled around, looking for the illusionary woman.

  Smiling, I slid my hand through the mirror, stroking his neck. I yanked my hand back as he whirled again.

  “I’m calling backup,” he shrieked, then ran for the door.

  Only Fulton was left.

  He was scared, but not as much as the others. I couldn’t make a mistake with him. If he saw me, even for a second, he would shoot. And he wouldn’t miss.

  “Fulton…” I purred, then shifted back to the changing rooms. Through the mirror, I watched him turn, his gun waving left and right as he searched for me.

  “Fulton…” I giggled again, the same creepy giggle. He whirled, shooting twice at the air.

  I stepped back into the mirror, letting its magic rush over my skin, and emerged not ten feet from him, crouching below a rack of clothes.

  “Fulton!” I whispered.

  He jumped, letting out another shot. He backed up—directly into a mirror. And that was just what I needed.

  When he turned around, I leaped through the mirror behind him, grabbing him around the neck and mouth, pressing hard to cut off his air.

  He was stronger. Instead of trying to pull my hands away, he elbowed me in my stomach. I gasped but forced myself to keep hold of him, my body surging with power. Fulton tried to point his gun at me, and I whirled him to the mirror, smashing his body against the glass, hard enough to stun him. His gun clattered to the floor. Still, I kept my hands over his nose and mouth.

  He was fumbling now, fighting for his life, and his raw panic only made me stronger.

  At last, he slumped in my arms. I waited for another second, not putting it past him to fake unconsciousness, but I couldn’t feel his fear anymore. He was out. Laying him on the floor, I checked his pulse, relieved to feel it thump weakly beneath his skin. Then I fished through his back pocket, pulling out my parchment. I shoved it into my bra. I wouldn’t let it get away from me a second time. I took his fake police badge as well, shoving it quickly into my bag.

  I glanced toward the door. A CIA officer stood outside, talking to a group of cops.

  Okay. Time to get the hell out of here.

  I linked with the mirror behind me, searching for a reflection far from here, to the east, in the direction of Winchester Palace, finding one in a narrow street. I slid through the glass, feeling the reflection’s magic rush over my skin like cool water.

  Chapter 10

  I moved along a narrow, cobbled alley beneath a brick archway. Constantly using and manipulating reflections took a bit of a toll, and the journey thr
ough the glass had left me feeling slightly queasy.

  Gabriel was not far away, searching for Lucy. But before I found him, I had another little task to complete. I pulled out my phone, searching for a cell phone shop. The nearest one was about five minutes away, by London Bridge Station.

  I tucked my head down, moving swiftly along the sidewalk.

  The exhilaration of the escape quickly wore off, and a dark cloud of hopelessness began to pool in the back of my mind. The CIA should have helped me establish communication with the abductor. They could also decipher the runes, and help me figure out who the hell Lucy was. They could have chartered a helicopter for us, to save time. But they were on the wrong track, assuming that I had something to do with Scarlett’s disappearance. And now, after I’d displayed my magical powers in the clothing shop, I was sure that they were certain of it. Once again, I was a fugitive.

  By the station, I spotted the T-Mobile shop, and dropped another hundred for a cell phone. Before switching SIM cards, I made sure I still remembered Gabriel’s number. As soon as I stepped out of the shop, I scanned the sidewalk for the most oblivious-looking person I could find. A woman with an oversized bag was heading for the train station, chatting into her phone. When she walked past, I dropped my old phone into her bag. That should throw off the CIA at least a little.

  As fast as I could, I crossed the road. While I jogged back to Clink Street, I called Gabriel from my new phone.

  “Hello?”

  “Gabriel, it’s me.”

  “Whose phone are you calling from?” His voice sounded tired.

  “I just got it. The CIA was a bust. They think I had something to do with Scarlett’s disappearance. Things got… messy.”

  “Bloody hell, Cassandra.”

  “Any idea who Lucy is?”

  “Not yet. There’s not much around here, to be honest. The palace is a ruin. There’s an old jail across the street, a museum now. I don’t see anyone who looks fae. I’m still looking. A few detectives in the station are helping out—”

  My pulse raced. “You told them about this?”

  “Chill. I didn’t tell them anything significant. I just said she’s a person of interest, probably a code name, and they’re looking.”

  “Okay.” I checked my new phone’s display. Twenty minutes past ten. By eleven thirty, we should be on our way with Lucy to Kent, and I still had no idea who the hell Lucy was. Panic tightened its grip on my heart. If Gabriel had no idea where to find Lucy, maybe I needed to find someone who did.

  “I’ll be there in twenty minutes. I’m going to check out one more lead. Let me know if you find anything.”

  “Sure.” He hung up.

  I shoved my new phone back in my bag.

  I had to get help, and I knew who could offer it. I’m sure there would be a price, but for Scarlett, I would do anything. I just needed to find him.

  I stepped into an alley, where no one could see me, and pulled a compact mirror from my bag. Immediately, I felt my mind bond with the reflection, and its cool magic filled the inside of my skull. The glass pulled me closer, sucking me in, and as it did, I searched for Roan, envisioning his perfect form. To my relief, the reflection shimmered, giving me a glimpse of his powerful, sun-kissed body.

  He was lying on a bed in a hotel room, shirtless, his eyes shut. My pulse raced, and I let the reflection pull me in deeper.

  Dizzy, I stumbled into his room.

  Roan sat bolt upright, and he reached for the sword by the side of his bed.

  My heart raced, and I held out my hands. “It’s just me.”

  He stared at me, his fingers on his sword’s hilt, then he relaxed again. “Did you come to have your friend threaten me with iron bullets again?” The ice in his voice seemed to chill the room by ten degrees.

  “No.” I swallowed hard. “Sorry about that. I didn’t know she’d react that way.”

  “Perhaps you don’t know your friends very well.”

  I took a deep breath. How was I going to convince him to help the woman who’d wanted to shoot him? “I need your help,” I said simply.

  “Fascinating.”

  “My friend… the one you met yesterday—”

  “The one who wanted to kill me.”

  “Right. She’s been abducted.”

  He raised his eyebrow. “Why?”

  “I don’t know. I think she was taken by a fae. Maybe it’s someone who was pissed that I killed the Rix. I got a sort of… ransom letter. In rhymes, like the Rix wrote. The letter said I should go find the Winchester Geese and find a girl called Lucy Locket, who is related somehow to a guy called Grendel. I need to take Lucy to Sheerness Dock, and it must be before one o’clock, or something terrible will happen.”

  “Something terrible will happen to your friend,” he clarified.

  My stomach was churning. I was running out of time, and yet, pushing Roan too far would backfire. “Right.”

  “The one who tried to kill me.”

  I cleared my throat. “In her defense, she didn’t kill you. And the abductor is threatening to burn her to death. And by the way—how did you know I was going to be targeted?”

  He rose from the bed. “I told you to get home and stay safe, didn’t I? I know people, I hear things. Your name came up more than once in the past few days. I don’t know why you’d be targeted in this way. The Callach says that you’re important to restoring Trinovantum to its former glory. Perhaps someone else knows your significance and wants to keep things as they are.” His emerald eyes burned into me. “It was only a matter of time. You should have heeded my warning.”

  I shivered. “What significance? The thing about me being the key? What the hell is that about?”

  He shrugged almost imperceptibly. “It doesn’t seem like you have time for a lesson on centuries of fae politics.”

  “Right.” My fingers tightened into fists. “What about Lucy Locket?”

  “Achieving what you ask is more difficult than you’d imagine, and would come with a great personal risk. Why would I risk my own safety to help a stranger who wants to kill me?”

  When he put it that way, I didn’t have much of a case, but I had to make one anyway. I cocked my hip. “If you recall, I helped you save Elrine. I broke into the prison, and helped free her. I believe you owe me.”

  “I owe you nothing.” His words were full of confidence, but doubt flickered across his emerald eyes. This bothered him.

  I was desperate, and out of ideas. “Scarlett is my best friend.” It sounded like a pointless plea, even to me, and tears stung my eyes. “Fine. I’ll figure it out on my own. I’m running out of time.”

  I turned to find a mirror, but Roan’s voice stopped me. “Wait.”

  As I looked at him, I tried to keep the hope from my eyes.

  “You’ll never achieve this on your own. It’s absurd. Tell me. After we get Lucy to Sheerness Dock, will you come with me? I have to keep you safe until the council gathering.”

  “What council?”

  “I will explain later. Do you promise?”

  “No.” I shook my head. This wasn’t good enough. “I will go with you, but only after I free Scarlett completely. I need to be sure that she is safe, and I still don’t know what happens after I bring this Lucy chick into Kent.” My heart began to slam against my ribs. I was quickly running out of time. “I won’t go anywhere until Scarlett is safe, back at home. Think of Elrine. It’s the same.”

  Roan stared down at me, his muscled body glowing with a pale, golden light. “Fine.”

  I took a deep breath. “Okay.” I pulled out the paper from my bra. “Whoever abducted Scarlett sent this to me through the mirror. It has something to do with Lucy. Can you tell me what it says?”

  He took the paper from my hand, scanning it. “It’s a ticket.”

  “A what?”

  “It’s just as I thought. Lucy Locket is in Grendel’s Den. It’s a fae club of sorts. It’s connected to the ruins of Winchester Palace, and this ticket
is how you’ll get in.”

  “Connected to the ruins?” I asked. “Through magic?”

  “Of course. But you can’t go wearing… whatever it is you’re currently wearing.”

  “Why? The magical bouncer won’t let me in?”

  “That’s exactly right.”

  “So what should I wear? Am I going for prudish fae event, like at the ball, or fun fae like at the afterparty?”

  “These fae are exiles from Trinovantum. Hedonists, who couldn’t abide the king’s prohibitions.”

  “So what you’re saying is, wear something low cut.”

  “I don’t know anything about human fashion. Just wear something better than this.” He brushed the back of his knuckles down my abdomen, just over my T-shirt. Even through the fabric, his touch sent a rush of electricity through my body.

  My pulse raced. “How am I supposed to know what exactly to wear?”

  “Look, it’s easy. You humans have a foolish ceremony. I believe you call it the Festival of Oscar.”

  “We have nothing like that.”

  “I saw it on your television. They worship a golden god.”

  I blinked, trying to make sense of this. “You mean the Oscars?”

  “I think so. The sort of dresses they wear would fit this.”

  “Right.” I checked the time. Half past ten. We had one hour. “I’ll meet you in the entrance to Winchester Palace in twenty minutes. I’ll be wearing something better than a T-shirt.”

  Chapter 11

  I didn’t have time to go to some kind of haute couture shop and purchase a fancy gown. I wasn’t even sure where you found those kinds of shops. Instead, I walked into the first place I saw in the street—a place called Oasis, and I scanned the mannequins. Most of them wore casual sun dresses, cocktail dresses, jeans, and T-shirts. At last, near the back, I spotted the closest thing I could get to Oscar’s glamour: a cream maxi dress. It was a Grecian style, with an empire waist, neckline that plunged to the waist, and a backless halter. When I pulled it off the rack, I saw that it also included a slit way up the thigh. I had a feeling Roan would like this one, but I’d need some accessories to dress it up.