Agent of the Fae (Dark Fae FBI Book 4)

by Alex Rivers

  My gaze flicked to the tornado, whirling closer now, larger. Its path darted over a grove of trees, splintering their wood and sucking them into its vortex.

  Roan. Where the hell was he?

  I grabbed Alvin’s arm. “Where’s Roan?”

  He shook his head, squinting in the hailstorm. “I don’t know! He was out there!”

  I shut out the deafening roar of the wind, the icy projectiles, the dark oblivion careening our way. I focused on my bond.

  I could feel him there, hurt and confused.

  “Go inside!” I yelled at Alvin. “I’m right behind you.”

  Alvin’s eyes flickered with an orange glow. Then, he followed the other Unseelie, taking cover in the Fortress.

  I focused on the bracelet on my wrist, searching for Roan. I found him almost instantly, lying on the ground below, bleeding, and my heart constricted. The tornado was heading right for him.

  A dead horse had fallen on top of his legs. He was trying to pull himself free. Through our bond, I could feel the agony spearing his legs. Reflexively, I took some of the pain away, wincing as it pierced my own legs. Bonding with the reflection, I leaped into it.

  On the ground, the wind tore at my hair, and I cast a nervous glance at the oncoming cyclone. It sounded like a train roaring over us.

  “Roan!” I shouted.

  “Cassandra!” His emerald eyes widened in horror. “Get the hell out of here!”

  “Not yet!” I crouched in the whipping wind, trying to push the dead horse off him. Without humans around, my body was drained and weak, and I could hardly move it an inch.

  Lightning touched down a hundred feet from us, thunder cracking the air. The tornado loomed over us like a colossus.

  “Cassandra, the storm will kill you!”

  Ignoring him, I focused on the armor of a dead Seelie lying in the nearby dirt. Could I jump with Roan in tow? The only time I had ever jumped with someone was with Siofra, and she had reflection magic like I did. Then again, Roan was my soulmate. I could feel his pain—maybe he could use my magic.

  I grabbed Roan’s hand, then leaned over to touch the metallic armor. The icy touch of the reflection lured me in… and I could feel Roan fading away.

  I pulled back from the reflection, gripping Roan’s hand tighter as the tornado roared closer, ripping at my hair, my clothes.

  “Cassandra,” he said. “Please. Don’t let this happen again. Get out of here. Get back to London.”

  I shook my head. “I’m not leaving you to die.”

  Lightning flashed, glinting off the fallen hailstones. I’d stopped noticing as they pelted me, cutting my skin, bruising me.

  “I’m not going to die,” Roan said, and I could feel his uncertainty. I could also feel his determination to say anything that would get me out of harm’s way.

  “Let’s move this little horse off you, all right? On the count of three. One… two… three!”

  Both of us pushed, Roan pulling himself, but nothing happened except for another jolt of pain shooting through his bones and, consequently, through mine.

  Something smacked the side of my skull—a rock, hurled by the driving wind.

  “Get out of here!” Roan roared, frantic now, his eyes pure amber, canines elongated. His white-blond hair whipped around his head, and in his fear, he no longer looked human at all.

  “Roan, I’m not leaving! So quit talking and do what you need to do. Stop this goddamn storm!”

  “I can’t! I can only call storms. I can’t command them.”

  “You need to try, because I’m not leaving.”

  For a moment, he looked furious, and I could feel his rage about to burst. But then the spark of anger faded, and he shook his head. “I will try. And if I don’t succeed—”

  “We’ll die together.”

  I could feel the pain that pierced him, but he gritted his teeth, then shut his eyes.

  I shut my own eyes, clenching his hand. With the wind shrieking around us, I sent all the power I could muster to him through our bond.

  The wind around us rumbled louder, and even through my closed eyelids, I could see the flashes of lightning moving closer. I focused on Roan, determined that fear wouldn’t consume our final moments. Only love.

  After what seemed like an endless trial of chaos shredding the world around us, I realized that the sound of the freight train had died down around us. My eyes flickered open.

  It was raining hard, and hailstones littered the battlefield, covering the bodies of the fallen Seelie. Some still moved, wounded, calling for help.

  But most importantly, the tornado had dwindled to a thin, dark spiral, darting away from us in an erratic path. Loosing a relieved breath, I smiled at Roan. His eyes were closed, his body still. When I touched his chest, I felt his heart beating under his skin, and relief warmed my body.

  Chapter 36

  I sat on Etain’s back, staring out through the fortress’ shattered gate. Our work in Trinovantum wasn’t yet finished. For one thing, we hadn’t yet found Branwen, and for another, I still had a brother to kill.

  For three days after the battle, I’d stuck by Roan’s side—bathing together, sleeping together, eating the fortress’ fresh supplies. The Unseelie victors had thrown wild parties every night, working and mourning their dead during the day. But today, we needed to cement the terms of our truce with the Seelie.

  A half a mile away from the fortress, five pillars of black smoke curled into the air. Over the past few days, the wind had quickly died down. Now, the smoke plumes spread into a blue sky, mingling lazily with each other.

  The funeral pyres had been burning for two days straight, ever since the rain stopped. The Unseelie would probably keep burning for several more. Around the walls, the field had been picked clean of anything that could be burned. In the distance, an axe rhythmically hammered against a tree trunk—more fuel for the pyres.

  I’d visited the nearby pyres the day before, and I’d stayed less than a minute. The smells of burning flesh, and the sight of blackening, cracking skin would be etched in my memory forever. I had to keep reminding myself it had all been necessary, that we’d needed to end this war before it got any worse.

  Set apart from the funeral pyres, a royal blue tent stood in the field, gleaming in the sunlight.

  “Ready?” Roan’s deep voice turned my head.

  “Yeah,” I muttered. “Let’s go.”

  We rode out of the gate toward the tent. As we approached, I could see several horses tied to a post. One of them was dark as coal, and probably the largest horse I had ever seen. A horse fit for a king—or in this case, a Seelie prince.

  We rode up to the entrance.

  As we dismounted, I congratulated myself for managing to land on both legs, even if it wasn’t graceful. Roan caught my elbow, steadying me. With him by my side, we approached the Seelie tent—two of the Unseelie lords, equal in status.

  The Seelie prince sat primly behind a large table, looking like a perfect statue of a Greek god. Unlike most of the pale Seelie, his dark hair framed his face, his features smooth as marble. Two of his bodyguards, a man and a woman, stood behind him in full armor.

  “You’re late,” he said. His voice was cold, sharp. “But I expected nothing more from the beasts.”

  We sat in the wooden chairs set in front of him. I had a sudden urge to put my legs on the table, to spit on the ground. How would the little princeling react?

  Instead, I smiled amiably. “So. Here we are. Isn’t this nice.”

  “Trust the Unseelie to let a fortal stand at the head of a royal court.” The prince eyed me with disdain.

  “Do you always start negotiations by offending the other party?” I asked, raising my eyebrow. “It’s an interesting tactic.”

  “There will be no negotiations.”

  A jolt of fear stabbed my gut. This war had to end. Now.

  “We were under the impression that you wanted peace,” Roan said darkly.

  The prince leaned fo
rward, steepling his fingers. “And so do you. This war has taxed the Seelie long enough. It has been an ongoing source of contention in our court, and we want it to end. But I’m not going to haggle for peace. Many still believe that you are vastly outnumbered, that you have no leadership, and your forces are weak. If you don’t accept our terms, we will attack.”

  Masking my anger, I stared at the prince.

  Roan broke the silence by rising, and I followed suit. “Well, this has been wonderful. We’re eagerly waiting for your suicide attack.”

  The prince’s eyes widened in outrage. “Don’t you want to hear our terms?”

  “You want us to surrender,” Roan said. “We do not…”

  His voice became faint as time slowed. I heard the rising song of fear vibrating from the prince, the strands of disgust. I called them to me, listened to them one by one. His fears of contamination rang out in a high treble. He had three siblings, and they all scared him in different ways, the fears harmonious. A piercing fear that he had already bungled this negotiation. I amplified that fear, turning it into a full-blown terror. Then, out of spite, I also increased his fear that he was a bad lover, and that his penis failed to satisfy his mistress. I reflected the vibrations right back at him.

  “Surely you don’t want us to attack!” the prince blustered, shaking, his face reddening. “Our spies say we outnumber you fifteen to one!”

  “Here are our terms,” I said, voice monotone and bored. I sat and leaned back in my chair, crossing my legs on his desk. “All hostilities will cease immediately, and the Seelie army will retreat behind the lines of the Hawkwood Forest, beyond the Arausio River.”

  Relief shone in the prince’s silver eyes.

  “You will deliver the Unseelie traitors and spies to us,” I continued.

  He nodded slowly, looking slightly confused.

  “Specifically,” I continued, “Siofra Weala Broc and Abellio Caer Ibormeith. Don’t be stupid. It’s behavior unbecoming of a prince. You will also hand over your prisoner, Branwen Sulis. Finally, you will return to us all the weapons you stole from the Balor armory.”

  “These demands are outrageous!” He spluttered. “They—”

  “We will not compromise on this,” I said, arching an eyebrow. “And they are more than fair. Essentially, what we are asking is for you all to turn around, whistling innocently, acting like this war never happened, and we’ll do you the favor of acting the same.”

  “You expect us to hand over those weapons so you can immediately use them against us?”

  I hesitated. Alvin had warned me that this would be a problematic issue.

  “We will promise to use them against the Seelie only in self-defense,” Roan said. “For a period of one hundred and one years.”

  The prince leaned back in his chair, pursing his lips. He couldn’t take his mind off his penis issue, and it was distracting him. He needed reassurance as soon as possible. Could he pay a whore to sing its praises? A roomful of whores, perhaps.

  I gritted my teeth, wishing I wasn’t privy to all his anxieties right now.

  “We can each return empty-handed,” I said brightly. “Once the war resumes, you’ll have the blood of thousands of Seelie on your hands. But I know you have more pressing matters than war to think about right now.”

  He blinked. After a moment, he said, “We only have this… Abellio.”

  “That’s disappointing.” My voice was frosty.

  The prince turned to one of his bodyguards, nodding at him. The bodyguard pivoted and crossed out of the tent.

  He returned a few moments later, leading a dirty, bleeding fae, her arms in chains. It took me a moment to realize, aghast, that it was Branwen. Her face was bruised and bloody, her clothes torn, her body covered with caked blood and mud. I lunged from my seat, hurrying to her. As I got close, the bodyguard shoved her, and she stumbled toward me. I grabbed her with both arms. She was trembling, and her body felt thin, light. I swallowed the tears that crept up my throat.

  “Where are the keys to these chains?” I asked in a hoarse voice. Roan was already by my side, helping me to steady her.

  “There are no keys,” the prince snapped. “The chains are welded. You can find a blacksmith to remove them, I’m sure.”

  “I will take her back to the fortress,” Roan said in a low voice.

  Gently, he swept an arm around Branwen’s waist, guiding her out of the tent. I stayed, staring at the prince, curbing the desire to paralyze him with terror.

  “We anticipated your demands for the dream fae,” he said, his gaze steady. “Quite frankly, we’re happy to be rid of him.”

  The bodyguard returned again, leading a tied-up, gagged fae, his face haggard, his blue eyes burning with hatred.

  “Hello brother,” I said in a low voice. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

  Chapter 37

  I let Abellio fester in the dungeons for three days before I made my way down the dark stairwell to the cells. I wasn’t quite sure if I wanted to gloat over him or just to never see his pretty little face again.

  Two torches lit the dank hallway, the light barely piercing the shadows. The door clanged shut behind me. For a moment, I felt an inkling of my prison fears—of being trapped in the darkness, in a place like this.

  But that Cassandra was gone, and as I strode forward to the farthest dungeon cell, my fears evaporated like mist. I gripped a heavy key ring.

  I’d insisted to the guards that I go alone. They hadn’t looked thrilled about it, but in the end, they let me do what I demanded. After all, I was the Mistress of Dread.

  I struggled to find the keyhole in the dim light, but with a bit of fumbling, I managed it. The rusty lock groaned as I turned the key. I pushed the metal door open with a loud creak, and slowly walked into Abellio’s cell.

  The guards had chained him to the wall, his arms above his head. Dried blood crusted around his swollen lip. Had Roan done that? One of the guards?

  I smiled at him, thinking of him pulling that filthy sack over my head in the prison cell. “Hello, Abellio.”

  His icy blue eyes were mirrors of my own. It was easy to see the fear in them. I didn’t need dread powers for that. Still, he managed to keep a calm façade as he sneered at me. He didn’t utter a word.

  “Here we are again.” My footsteps echoed off the cell walls. “I’m a bit miffed they gave you a nicer cell than I had. You have light here. That’s practically a five-star hotel.”

  “What do you want?” he rasped.

  “What do you think our darling father would have said, seeing you like this?” I asked. “A traitor to your own people, tied to the wall, being questioned by a female fortal?”

  “I’m not the traitor. I’m loyal to the monarchy you’ve turned on. Your Republic is a farce. The courts will tear each other apart. And while you’re squabbling amongst yourselves, the Seelie will return, and kill you all. In five hundred years, the Unseelie realm will be dust.”

  I folded my arms. “So your plan was… what? To help them kill us sooner?”

  “They would have allowed us to live, for a price. And I would have paid it to restore the throne of my father. There is strength in unity, and there is no unity in a Republic.”

  “How very patriotic of you.” I crouched down. “Remember our last talk? I was tied to a chair. You put a cloth on my head, and drenched it over and over again, drowning me, while your friends laughed.”

  The memory used to inflame rage in me. Now, with Abellio tied to a scummy wall, I felt almost nothing.

  “Are you going to get back at me?” he rasped. “Do the same? Go ahead. I won’t beg and cry like you did, you fortal beast.”

  “Do you really believe that?” I quirked my eyebrow.

  He didn’t answer.

  I rose again. “Lucky for you, I don’t torture. One of us is a beast, and it’s not me.”

  “So what are you here to do? Kill me?”

  “Maybe. But not yet. I’ve been told that a public han
ging would really help the morale of the new Republic. Sounds a bit weird to me, but who am I to stand in the way of fae tradition?”

  “Why are you here, Cassandra?” he asked again, wearily.

  “Mostly,” I whispered, a smile materializing, “just to see you like this.”

  Time slowed down.

  The cloud of fear thrummed around him, music to my ears. I listened to the song. It had an otherworldly beauty I’d never noticed before.

  I called it to me, let it fill me.

  Fear of death. Fear of torture. Fear of failure. Fear of eternity in imprisonment. All harmonizing. Underneath them, I heard deeper fears. The fear of being forgotten. The fear of failing Ogmios. The fear of being alone.

  I could make them all even worse. I could turn him into a blubbering, insane mess, or kill him with a heart attack right here.

  Instead, I began carefully changing the notes. I slowed the vibrations, making them deeper, sturdier.

  An inherent, ever-present dread would always haunt him. I enhanced his fear of me, making him believe that I was almost omnipotent. I weaved endless strands of superstition and paranoia into his fear, and by the time I’d finished, he feared nothing in the world more than me. I scared him the way a wrathful god terrifies a devout man.

  It had become an art form, conducting the music of Abellio’s fear into something that would withstand time: a dream fae whose own nightmares would hound him.

  I slammed the deepened fears back into him, not even subtle. His eyes widened, and he began to struggle against his chains. He moaned, his breath shaky.

  “I don’t need torture,” I said brightly. “I have dread.”

  “Please,” he mumbled. “Please…”

  “Oh!” I snapped my fingers. “I almost forgot! There were questions we need to ask you. Where is Siofra?”

  “I don’t know! Please!”

  “She was with you. Where is she?”

  “She disappeared a week ago. I swear, I have no idea where she went. Please make it stop!”

  I paused, remembering something Roan had told me months ago, when I’d first learned Siofra was a human. How could a human wield fae magic so powerfully? She’d harnessed the power of a tree spirit. “Where is Siofra’s tree? The one that gives her power?”