by Alex Rivers
Alvin’s cheerful voice laughed in my mind. Did you ever try to boil stew in a couple of eggshells? You should try it. It’s fucking hilarious.
In the presence of eggshell stew, a changeling will burst out laughing, or shed her glamour. Thus said the internet, and the internet is never wrong.
Holding tight to my blanket, I watched the water start bubbling in the kettle, the eggshell bobbing in the small eddies of the water. Its contents began to sizzle as well.
I felt nothing. And that proved—nothing. It was a ridiculous test. Absolutely stupid. Boiling stew in an eggshell? What sort of insane nonsense was this? I laughed to myself.
And kept laughing. The laughter bubbled from me uncontrollably, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I fell to the floor, convulsing with laughter, the blanket falling from my body. Tears streamed from my eyes, and my stomach hurt from the endless laughter. The tears just kept spilling down my cheeks, staining the floor, and I couldn’t be sure if they were tears of laughter… or tears of grief.
I was the Rix’s daughter. My father was a monster, and I’d killed him. I was the reason my real parents had died—the people who’d raised me, the Liddells. When they’d given birth to a perfectly normal human baby, the fae had stolen in, snatched her, and replaced her with an unwanted baby, an abomination, a pixie. And that abomination was me. The tears, the gasps of laughter—it just wouldn’t stop.
I finally stopped laughing, and then just lay there, feeling empty and drained. Exhausted, I pulled the blanket back around me, wiping the tears from my eyes.
The floor creaked, and I opened my eyes. Roan was there, staring down at me, his expression a mixture of shock and irritation.
“Something funny?”
“No.” I sat up. “Nothing is, really.”
He crouched down, meeting my gaze. “The king attacked the Sluagh. Dozens died. The rest are in hiding. With every incursion into the Hawkwood Forest, he grows in strength.”
“I’m sorry. I had responsibilities here.”
Warm firelight danced over his skin. “You could have stopped it.”
I shook my head. “No, I couldn’t. I had another battle to fight, Roan. I stopped Siofra from hurting a lot of people.”
He traced his fingertips over the edge of the blanket. “Are you going to explain why I found you in here, laughing and naked?”
My cheeks burned. “My clothes were frozen.” Tears welled in my eyes. “And as it turns out, I’m a changeling.”
He wiped one of the tears from my cheeks, then pulled his hand away, standing up. “You broke your promise.”
“No, I didn’t. I’m here. I’m willing to do what I can to help.”
“Good. Because soon, we’ll need all the help we can get.”
“Why?”
“War is coming.” For a moment, Roan’s eyes flickered to gold.
Even as I stared at the roaring fire, its flames gilding the hearth, a chill ran up my spine. It was the same thing Scarlett had said to me, and dread bloomed in my chest like the flowering hemlock.
Also by C.N. Crawford
The Demons of Fire and Night Series
Book 1: Infernal Magic
Book 2: Nocturnal Magic
The Vampire’s Mage Series
Book 1: Magic Hunter
Book 1.1: Shadow Mage
Book 2: Witch Hunter
Book 3: Blood Hunter
Book 4: Divine Hunter
Acknowledgments
We’d like to thank Alex’s lovely wife Liora for her amazing notes and for being a superhero.
Our cover designer, Clarissa did another fantastic job.
And finally, we’d like to thank our wonderful editors, Elayne and Izzy.
About
Alex Rivers is the co-author of the Dark Fae FBI Series. In the past, he's been a journalist, a game developer, and the CEO of the company Loadingames. He is married to a woman who diligently forces him to live his dream, and is the father of an angel, a pixie, and a gremlin. He has two voracious hounds that wag their tail quite menacingly at anyone who comes near his home.
Alex has been imagining himself fighting demons and vampires since forever. Writing about it is even better, because he doesn’t get bitten, or tormented in hell, or even just muddy. In fact, he does it in his slippers.
Alex also writes crime thrillers under the pen name Mike Omer.
You can contact Alex by sending him an email to [email protected].
C. N. Crawford is sometimes two people—a married couple named Christine and Nick. But for the Dark Fae FBI series, it’s just Christine. Christine grew up in New England and has a lifelong interest in local folklore—with a particular fondness for creepy old cemeteries. She is a psychologist who spent eight years in London obsessively learning about its history, and misses it every day.
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