Agent of Chaos (Dark Fae FBI Book 2)

by Alex Rivers

  “All right,” Morcant said. “Which building?”

  I swallowed hard, trying to think clearly. It could be any of these places. How could I possibly know?

  Then, an idea bloomed in my mind. Glancing at the side mirror, I let my mind bond with its surface, then searched for the other reflections around it. Every building had dozens of reflections. Mirrors, windows, silver cutlery—they were everywhere.

  All apart from one, which was completely invisible to my senses. Siofra controlled all its reflections. That was the house.

  “There.” I pointed to the mansion, just on the other side of the overgrown fence. The mansion had twenty large windows. I had sensed none of them when I had searched for reflections.

  “That’s Malplaquet House,” Morcant murmured. “I know of it.”

  “They’re there,” I said. “I think maybe we should enter shrouded in darkness. Get Elrine and Scarlett and—”

  “No,” Roan said. “No more secrecy.”

  “But—”

  Roan opened the car door. “Odette. Can you please let them know we’re here?”

  Odette nodded, her mouth quirking in a cryptic smile. As she stepped out of the car, my stomach clenched.

  “Anyone care to fill me in?” I asked.

  No one responded as she slipped out of the car, onto the sidewalk.

  In the next moment, I was scooting out after Drustan. Odette pushed through the gate, and it creaked on its hinge. What was going on?

  Silently, Odette stepped into the courtyard, spreading out her arms. I followed her over the mossy stones. Plants snaked the fence and brick walls around us, rustling eerily, as if nature was trying to reclaim its territory.

  As Odette raised her arms, the wind began to pick up, rushing through the vines and tree branches. At first, the wind blew quietly, then it whistled and shrieked around us, its strength nearly knocking me down. Odette’s green cloak flapped in the wind, and her wildfire hair rose like flames licking the air around her head.

  Then she screamed.

  Odette’s shriek vibrated through my ribs, my spine, my teeth, and my limbs. I covered my ears in horror, but it was useless—the sound penetrated my fingers. Around us, windows were shattering to pieces, her voice ripping through the glass. The scream went on for what felt like ages, until at last it died down again. I heaved a sigh as the wind died down.

  On the other side of the fence, the mansion’s door opened, and four large men emerged, holding guns, their expressions slightly vacant and bewildered. One of them noticed us and raised his weapon.

  Before he could pull the trigger, Morcant raised his hand, and a bright orange bolt shot from his palm, hitting the guard in his chest. Instantly, the man burst into flame. Already, Morcant was unleashing more of the orange bolts, hitting the other guards.

  One of the guards tried to take cover. As he did, Roan appeared by his side, his sword in hand, antlers gleaming in the moonlight. He brought the sword down, and the guard’s head tumbled to the floor in a cascade of blood.

  All four guards, dead within seconds. I guess Roan and his friends really hadn’t needed my warnings.

  Odette turned to me, her cloak billowing in the wind. “We’re here,” she purred. She held out her hand, and I stared as a gleaming, white scythe appeared in it.

  Gripping his sword, Roan moved up the steps. He turned to me, his eyes blazing gold. “Stay here. You’re in over your head.”

  Like hell I would.

  Roan was ready to break down the door when a volley of explosions made me instinctively flatten myself into the corner of the stairs.

  “Gun! Iron bullets!” I shouted. Panic surged in my chest.

  I had no way of knowing, but if I had to guess, Siofra had armed her guards with weapons that could hurt fae. Cowering in the mossy corner, I raised my eyes, glimpsing the sparks from the house windows as someone shot from them. I counted at least three windows with guns. When I glanced around, I could see that Roan and Morcant had taken cover. Odette hadn’t bothered to hid herself, but as bullets hammered her body, she somehow remained unharmed.

  Then shadows crept around us, wisps of shadow curling from Drustan’s body, reaching for the house in dark tendrils. Shouts of horror penetrated the brick walls, and through the windows, I could see Drustan’s shadows seeping through the rooms, blinding the guards, robbing them of their sanity. Odette let out another ghastly shriek, and I shivered. The combination of those shadows and Odette’s screams would drive anyone mad.

  Roan stood and kicked the door open, plunging into the shadows. Once again, he turned to me, his eyes locking on me. “Stay in the car.” He slipped into the house, and Morcant moved in after him.

  There was no way I was leaving Scarlett in there. Cursing, I followed them up the steps, pulling the Uzis from my bag and slinging their straps on my shoulders. My heart climbed into my throat as I slipped into the darkness.

  Drustan seemed to be pulling his shadows from the house as I moved through the open door. Somewhere deep inside, I heard Roan’s roar, and another man’s shriek. Morcant’s bolts of orange light flashed in the darkness. As they lit up the decrepit hall, which was lined with paintings, I caught a glimpse of a figure charging at me—a man with large bat wings, holding an immense sword, his eyes flashing with white light.

  I raised my Uzi. I could feel the recoil as I pressed the trigger, emptying half the iron bullets into the creature’s chest. He screamed and fell back against the wall, his body still, eyes wide open. In here, the walls were crammed with mounted animal heads and strange paintings of woodland scenes.

  I moved further into a dining room. Blood soaked the green walls and the threadbare rug, and a half-dozen corpses littered the floor. A head lay in stone fireplace, its blood staining the hearth. Roan swung his sword at a black-bearded fae who blocked the attacks with a club. A cold shiver of dread slithered up my spine as I stared at the carnage around me—the headless body slumped against the base of a marble statue; another on the other side of the room, his blood sprayed in an arc on a tall window. Roan had killed all these fae, and it had probably taken him less than thirty seconds.

  Morcant was nowhere in sight, but his orange light still flashed through the doorway, and the scent of burning flesh curled through the air. We’d been here less than a minute, and it was a bloodbath in here. But where was Siofra? And more importantly, where was my best friend?

  Odette slipped past me, her body seeming to float on a phantom wind, her wildfire hair slithering around her head like a pack of snakes. As I gripped my gun, an eight-foot hulk barged into the room, roaring. Odette swung her scythe, and it left a shimmering path of silvery light in its wake as it cut the hulk in two, like a hot knife through butter.

  There was no time to lose. Any second, one of the guards might figure out they had leverage—the prisoners who could easily be used as hostages. I slipped through one of the open doorways, on my way to find Scarlett.

  I had reached a flight of stairs when a red-eyed woman appeared from around the corner, nearly taking off my head with a curved sword. I ducked at the last second, the blade whistling above my skull, and hurriedly aimed my Uzi, pressing the trigger. The shots went wild, the recoil jarring my aim. The woman dove as the bullets cracked paintings all over the wall, piercing the plastered walls. The rat-tat-tat of automatic gunfire stopped abruptly as my magazine emptied.

  The fae hissed, gripping her sword. I dropped the Uzi, grabbing the second one. I raised it, taking three shots at her body. This time, all three bullets hit their mark. She stumbled back, her red eyes bulging, sword falling from her hands.

  And then Roan was by my side.

  “You should have waited outside,” he growled.

  I didn’t have time to argue. “Whatever.” Ignoring him, I ran up the creaky wooden stairs, taking two with each step.

  As I ran, two guards appeared at the top, raising handguns, and I unleashed a spray of bullets from the Uzi. They dove, and Roan rushed past me up the step
s, his sword raised. I let go of the trigger so I wouldn’t hit him. When he reached the top of the stairs, his sword carved a sharp arc through the air through the air, spraying crimson droplets of blood. He turned to look at me, his face spattered with blood, his eyes golden, a pair of antlers on his head. He hadn’t unveiled fully, and yet the sight of him still made my stomach clench. One of the guard’s heads tumbled down the stairs, leaving a trail of blood behind it.

  In a dark-walled hall, Roan and I kept together. He kicked each door open, searching. From below, screams of terror floated on the air, as Morcant, Odette, and Drustan laid waste to everyone in their path. I shivered as I caught a glimpse of a dusty glass case further down the hall, filled with human skulls displayed like works of art.

  Roan kicked a fourth door open, revealing a dark, familiar room—the place where I’d seen Scarlett in one of the reflections.

  As my eyes adjusted to the dark, I saw Scarlett and Elrine lying on the floor, hands bound behind their hands, clothes in tatters.

  I sighed with relief. “Scarlett!” I hurried to her side, tugging at the rope in frustration. I winced at the sight of her seared back—that image of the skull under water.

  Elrine’s eyes were closed, but Scarlett craned her neck to meet my gaze. Fear flashed across her features, then relief. “Cass,” she croaked. “Nice of you to drop by. We were having a slumber party, but Elrine’s not much fun anymore.”

  That witty remark was all she could come up with before bursting into tears. Frantically, I tugged at the rope. I had no blade except for the Rix’s knife, and I didn’t want the toxic blade touching Scarlett’s skin.

  Roan was lifting Elrine’s body with one arm.

  “Roan!” I shouted. “Sword!”

  He tossed me his blade, and it fell to the floor by my side with a clang. It was so heavy I could barely lift it. It had to be sixty pounds, but despite its weight, I managed to cut Scarlett’s binds with it. She sat up, rubbing her wrists. I’d never seen her looking so pale, her milky skin a sharp contrast with the bruises marring her face.

  “Can you walk?” I asked.

  “I think so.”

  I helped her stand up and let her lean against me. Her body felt like it was burning up, and sweat dampened her skin. I could hear her gasping for breath. It tore at my heart to see her battered face, her bloodied leg, the rough stump where her toe was missing. But what really made my stomach clench was the sight of the angry, red lines streaking her bare foot from her severed toe. Infected.

  “We need to get you to the hospital,” I said.

  “No shit,” she muttered, leaning into me. “I think my blood is infected. Sepsis. And I’ve got cracked ribs.” Anger burned through my veins. With her blood infected, Scarlett could die of a heart attack.

  “Okay,” I said, struggling to carry Roan’s sword in one arm, holding up Scarlett in the other. “Let’s go.”

  Slowly, we moved out of the room. Silence had fallen over the house, though when we reached the stairs, a shriek of pain ripped through the calm.

  Scarlett’s body tensed against me. “Someone’s hurt.”

  “Not ours,” I said grimly.

  We descended the stairs, Scarlett flinching with pain with each step. When we reached the bottom, her wide eyes flicked to the carnage in the dining room, the blood spatters over the walls.

  “Jesus,” she breathed. “What the fuck happened here?”

  “Rescue operation got a bit out of hand,” I muttered as we walked toward the front door. Blood soaked the wooden floors, making them slippery. Once this night was over, I’d probably be throwing away my shoes.

  Outside, I found Roan, Drustan, and Odette standing in the overgrown garden. Roan held Elrine in his arms, gently cradling her. A pang of jealousy shot through me, but I pushed it under the surface. She was awake, shivering, her eyes staring at nothing.

  “Who are your friends, Cass?” asked Scarlett, her voice sharp.

  “Friends who just got you out of there. What about Morcant?” I asked Roan. “Did he…”

  “Morcant is taking care of one last detail,” said Roan.

  “Detail?” I asked.

  Odette pulled her cowl over her vibrant hair. “Humans are adept at ignoring us. But there are about two dozen dead fae in that house.”

  “So what exactly—” I began to say.

  There was a sudden whoosh, and orange and yellow flames licked at the bottom windows. I stared, aghast, as fire consumed the house.

  “But there could be wounded in there!”

  Not any more, Drustan said in my mind.

  “Damn it!” I shouted. “The fire could catch to other houses! People live here.”

  After a few seconds, Morcant appeared in the doorway, his suit blazing with flames. As he casually walked down the stairs, he ran his hands over his body, dousing the flames as calmly as if he were wiping off dust.

  In the distance, sirens wailed.

  “The human firefighters will get here before long,” Roan said, the only one who even seemed to give a thought to the people living nearby.

  Morcant nodded at his car. “And we need to go.”

  * * *

  This time, Scarlett sat in the front seat by Morcant, while Elrine sat in Roan’s lap in the back. Odette and Drustan had disappeared into the darkness—quite literally. Drustan had called up a cloud of shadows, and they’d just walked away, fading from sight.

  I glanced at Elrine, curled in Roan’s lap, and I had to bite down on my jealousy. What the hell was wrong with me? I wasn’t Roan’s girlfriend. And anyway, I still had a psychotic bitch to kill, and we had to get Scarlett to the hospital fast.

  Scarlett turned to look at me, and I winced at the sight of her battered face—the black eye, the swollen lip. Her breaths were coming in short, sharp bursts, a faint whistle when she inhaled. She moistened her lips, and swallowed hard, trying to work up the strength to speak. “What did I miss while I was a captive? What’s the news?”

  I wasn’t sure how much to tell her right now, when she was on death’s door, but if we were heading to a hospital, she was bound to find out about London’s chaos. “I think the terrorist who blew up London might have been the woman who took you. She’s also been flooding the city. And does Strasbourg in 1518 ring a bell?”

  Her eyes widened, and she grimaced. “Fuck. A dancing plague,” she wheezed. “How many casualties?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t even know at this point. The numbers keep mounting, and I haven’t been able to keep up with the news.”

  Morcant was driving slowly, well under the speed limit, and I fought the urge to yell at him to hurry. Since we weren’t cloaked by shadows, Morcant would not want to draw unnecessary police attention.

  Best to drive slowly. And as we did, rolling down Whitechapel Road, I stared out the window, chilled at the sight of deserted streets. From the look of the place, a few weeks ago, this road would have been filled with people moving between the bars and restaurants.

  It only took a few minutes down to the Royal London Hospital—a towering building of bright blue glass and modern angles that loomed over the rest of the squat, Victorian neighborhood. Slowly, Morcant pulled up at the ER entrance.

  I helped Scarlett climb from the car, then cast one last glance at Roan and Elrine as I closed the door. I wasn’t quite sure how Elrine would heal, but it probably involved Roan whispering in the fae language and stroking her skin. I shoved the thought out of mind as I slid my arm around Scarlett’s back. Outside the ER doors, two middle-aged women in hospital gowns languidly danced and twitched, rattling the IVs in their arms. I had no idea how they’d ended up out here, but it wasn’t a good sign if the patients were spilling out onto the streets.

  “So that’s what the dancing plague looks like,” Scarlett mumbled.

  “I think we’re about to see a lot more of it.”

  As soon as we entered, chaos greeted us. At the front entrance, a mob of dancers blocked our path—some already in som
e kind of half-assed treatment, with IVs for hydration. Others simply lingered at the edges of the white-and-purple-walled waiting room. Some stumbled into chairs, groaning as their bodies convulsed.

  “Holy shit.” Scarlett faltered, and I gripped her harder, practically carrying her. “I’m not sure I can make it to the desk to check in.”

  I pointed to a white bench just behind her. “Do you want to sit for a minute? I’ll run to the desk to check you in.”

  Groaning slightly, she eased herself down to the bench. “I’ll sit for a second. I’ll come with you in a minute. If they see what I look like, I might get to a doctor faster.”

  I glanced into the swarming crowd. The entire space was crammed with people whose bodies twitched and jerked uncontrollably, skin waxy, jaws open, eyes terrified. An elderly man swayed and shuffled, moaning, his lips pale. Only a single person in the waiting room didn’t seem to have the dancing plague—a young woman gripped her hand to her chest, her shirt soaked in blood.

  I wasn’t quite sure where a severed toe and a skin-branding would fit in the triage cue, but we’d be here for a long time.

  I swallowed hard. “Scarlett… I won’t be able to stay with you. Not until you talk to your guys at the CIA.”

  Her forehead crinkled. “What are you talking about?”

  “They think I had something to do with your abduction.”

  Her lips were pale. “An FBI agent? Who’s the idiot who came up with that idea?”

  “Fulton.”

  She wet her lips, straining to keep her eyes open. “What a moron.”

  “Scarlett.” I swallowed hard. “He had a good reason to suspect me.”

  She blinked, her cheeks pink with fever. “What reason? What are you talking about? I don’t understand.” Her words were beginning to slur.

  My heart slammed against my ribs. I shouldn’t be this terrified to tell my best friend the truth. I needed her to trust me, but I had to trust her too. I needed to have faith that she wouldn’t immediately turn me in. Truthfully, I just couldn’t imagine that happening.