Covert Fae_A Demons of Fire and Night Novel

by C. N. Crawford

  Moonlight bathed her in silver. “The gods who lived on Earth before the angels’ fall. The gods born from the Earth itself.”

  “What? I’ve never heard of them.”

  “Most people haven’t. We call them the Old Gods.”

  This kind of sounded like some bullshit, but I’d go with it. “And how are they supposed to help us?”

  She crossed to another plant—one with indigo flowers. Reverently, she stroked her fingertips over the blossoms. “This plant is known as Devil’s Bane. Some call it the Queen of Poisons. Incidentally, that is what the other members of the Order call me.”

  “Good to know.”

  She met my gaze. “Kratos, the Hunter, lives in an ancient castle just outside London. It’s been glamoured for centuries, but we know where to find it. Now, in the forest outside his palace, Devil’s Bane has begun to grow. We hadn’t seen it in centuries, but the Old Gods give us what we need. We believe that Devil’s Bane is one of the only substances capable of weakening the angels.”

  “Can it kill them?”

  She shook her head. “No. It may put them out of commission for weeks or months. But they would recover.”

  “But I could use it as self-defense if I needed to.”

  “Yes. And I’m certain that there’s more in that forest—another gift from the Old Gods. Maybe even the key to their defeat. But we haven’t been able to explore the grounds there. The angels slaughter anyone who gets too close. Nearly all missions to the forest have resulted in death. We can’t get past the outer boundaries.”

  Great. “So that sounds promising.” I frowned. “I must say, I was hoping for something more concrete than potential gifts from imaginary gods that may or may not be in the forest.”

  “They’re not imaginary. Look—” she held my gaze steadily. “We need you, Ruby. If you really can get into the angels’ palace, you could tell us why they’re here, what their plans are. Are they planning another large-scale slaughter? Disease, a massacre? We don’t know, but you could help us find out. Help us prepare for it to save lives. And give the Old Gods a chance. Find out what they are trying to tell us. Angels were never meant to walk the Earth. They were meant for the heavens.”

  Remembering Kratos, his otherworldly strength, a shiver of dread ran up my spine. And Adonis was even worse. “What else can you tell me?”

  “In order for you to convince them to trust you, you’ll need to shed your former self completely. Become the succubus you pretended to be—a demon who doesn’t care about humans. Prove to them that the Great Nightmare has changed you. You’re as ruthless as they are. You thrive on death like they do. You value beasts more than human lives. You can be our beacon of light, but first, you must descend into the shadows.”

  I nodded grimly. “I understand.”

  Little did she know I was terrified of the dark and had to sleep with candles lit.

  With my arms folded, I tapped my fingertips on the crook of my elbow. “How would I communicate with you while I’m in their castle? And how will you get a message to my sister, like you said?”

  “That, unfortunately, is a little difficult. We have only one scryer, and he wasn’t fully trained before the Great Nightmare began. I can make contact with you through a reflection—you’ll be able to see us, but we can’t see much back. Just blotches of light and shadow.”

  I frowned. “That doesn’t sound very useful.”

  “We’ll make contact with you just after dawn, every day. It’s a risk every time. You need to let us know if the sentinels can see us when we appear to you, so we can find another reflection. Flicker the candle once to tell us it’s unsafe, or five times to let us know it’s okay.”

  “And then how do I communicate any actual information?”

  “When you have something important to tell us, signal with a candle again. For a meeting, flicker the candle three times. One of us will meet you at the forest’s edge. On the north side of the forest, you’ll find a grove of mulberry trees, with hellebore and cockle weeds growing around them. Wait until there are no sentinels overhead, then glamour yourself as a fox. We’ll meet inside the cave of pines.”

  Plants. Of course the Queen of Poisons gave directions by way of plants. “When can you send my sister a message?”

  Her brow creased. “What do you want me to convey?”

  I thought of all the things I wanted to say to Hazel, from a reminder to eat her fruit to a simple message letting her know I was okay. “Just… can you just tell her I haven’t given up on her, that I want to find her? Maybe find a way for her to signal where she is?”

  Yasmin let out a long sigh. “If that’s what you want me to do, I will do it. But you should think about this first: we’d be opening up a scrying portal without knowing who is watching. If dragons are surrounding her—if they know she is communicating with the Order—it could end very badly for her. You should wait until you have something important to communicate.”

  Her words sent a lick of dread chasing up my spine. “I don’t know any other way to find her. And if you can contact her—if you find the blotches of light and darkness when you search for her—at least I’ll know she’s alive, right?”

  “Yes. We will work on finding her, and you work on finding an escape route for her. But don’t risk her life just to reassure yourself—risk her life when you think it’s the only way to get her back.”

  My chest tightened. She had a point. “Fine.”

  “Charm the angels. Seduce them. Make them want to please you, and steal information from them when they’re not looking. Whatever it takes, find out what you need to know—for Hazel, and for all of us.”

  Wordlessly, Yasmin crossed to a shadowy alcove in the corner of the herbarium. If I strained my eyes, I could just see a wooden box resting there. Yasmin pulled it from the shelf. When she opened it, the box almost seemed to glow from within.

  “If you want to save your sister, save us—you’re going to have to become a new person. A seductive succubus. But I won’t send you there unprotected.” She pulled a silvery knife from the box, and the moonlight sparked off its lethally sharp blade. “This is Nyxobian silver, so sharp that it can cut through anything. Including angels’ bodies, their wings. Hide it on yourself as protection. If an angel seems like he’s about to slaughter you, plunge this through his heart. It won’t kill him, but it will certainly slow him down.”

  I shuddered, taking the knife from her. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that, shall we?”

  Chapter 11

  Bronze light slanted through the street, washing over the fading graffiti. I walked along the ruins of Whitechapel High Street, dressed in a form-fitting satin dress—garnet in color, to match my lips. The outfit was completely unsuitable for winter, but I did my best to keep my teeth from chattering.

  Hidden safely behind the walls of the Tower, I’d prepared myself for my appearance on London’s streets. With Yasmin’s help, I’d raided the contents of an old pharmacy by Liverpool Street for makeup, then a department store.

  In crimson high heels, I now strode through the city with a freshly painted face: black eyeliner, mascara, blush on my cheeks. I’d painted my nails to match my dress. Curled into soft waves, my red hair cascaded over my shoulders, and a bit of glitter glinted from my eyelids.

  I had the strongest urge to find Katie, Lucy, and Alex, to tell them I was okay, that I had a plan.

  Yasmin had been a hard no on that idea.

  Trust no one, she said. You’ll only endanger them. Let them think you died.

  I’d spent three weeks in the Bloody Tower with Yasmin, gorging on their reserves of food in order to put a bit more meat on my bones. I could glamour a few curves onto myself, but new glamour took mental and physical stamina. The closer I could get to looking like a curvaceous succubus in real life, the better.

  As I walked, my glamoured succubus aura snaked through the air. I could hardly see it, just hints of shadows from the corners of my eyes. An angel like Kratos would se
e the thick, charcoal tendrils undulating from my body. The sight would lure him closer, like a butterfly to nectar.

  Once, succubi had been goddesses, queens among demons. And therein lay the fascination. Powerful creatures like Kratos wanted to take something beautiful and crush it in their fists. In fact, the sight of a seductive, powerful succubus striding through this hellscape would inflame his thirst for conquest. He wouldn’t rest until he’d quenched it.

  Right there is the reason the world had few succubi left. They’d been hunted out of existence by males terrified of their allure.

  But I’d come armed. A bow and bull-skin quiver of arrows hung over my back—not in the fae style. That would give the game away. No, these were the weapons of a demon—a Carthaginian bow, hewn from wood and silver. Arrows carved with the symbols of the Night God. A silver-tipped baton, its hilt made of engraved elephant tusks from thousands of years ago. And of course, the knife of Nyxobian silver strapped to my thigh.

  A quiver was a handy thing. Not only did it hold my weapons, but I’d stuffed my makeup and a few handkerchiefs in there.

  In the guise of a succubus, I already felt more powerful, as if a thrilling, ancient magic flowed through my blood. That was the thing about disguises. Sometimes you wore them—and sometimes, the disguises wore you.

  As Succubus Ruby, I had three tasks. One, gain Kratos’s trust. Two, seduce him until he invites me to his castle. And three, survive the hounds.

  Simple, right?

  First I had to put on a little show for the sentinels who watched my every move as I strutted through Whitechapel. I had to prove my ruthlessness, that I didn’t care about humans—and I had to do it all without seeming too much of a potential threat to the angels. As far as the sentinels would be concerned, the Great Nightmare had turned me into a great monster.

  To prove that point, I needed Dickhead.

  Only an idiot would be out at this time of day, with the sun about to set behind the buildings. Lucky for me, Dickhead was an idiot, and one with very predictable patterns. When I reached Brick Lane, I found him traipsing along the sidewalk, carrying a plastic bag stuffed with food. In fact, potatoes were protruding from its surface.

  Were those—our potatoes? Oh hell no. He’d found the garden. I’d been gone for weeks, eating proper meals in the Tower, while my old rookery friends were probably starving. A tendril of guilt coiled through my ribs.

  Sauntering behind Dickhead, I whistled my favorite pop tune—an old Taylor Swift song. He whirled around.

  “Hello, hello, hello.” A grin spread across his features. “Isn’t this my lucky day. First I found the secret garden, and now I’ve found you.”

  Oh good. He’s only just found the garden.

  He didn’t seem to recognize me at all, but then again, he’d mostly seen me either as a glamoured ogre of a man or as a scrawny waif running through the streets. He’d never seen the glamorous, well-fed succubus before him.

  I glanced at the skies, looking for a sentinel. As the sun disappeared to the west, the moon’s glow seemed to brighten. A shiver rippled over my skin.

  I can do this. I can handle the night.

  But I didn’t see any sentinels. Where were the bastards when you actually needed them? There was no point in engaging in this charade unless they were watching, ready to report what I’d come here to do.

  Dickhead licked his lips. “Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve seen a filthy little minx such as yourself?”

  At one time, men like Dickhead might have feigned a gentlemanly attitude for at least a few minutes, long enough to try to lure me into a false sense of security. In the world of the Great Nightmare, where there was no one who’d hear me scream, he didn’t even bother with that performance. As far as he was concerned, a filthy little minx such as myself was virtually defenseless here, ready for the taking. Sure, I might have a bow slung over my shoulder, but what were the chances I’d use it?

  He waggled his eyebrows. “Why don’t you shuffle over to that alley, darling, pull up that dress of yours? Can’t imagine you’d be showing everything off like that if you didn’t want it, am I right? You’re gagging for it.”

  When I glanced at the skies again, my chest tightened. Still no sentinels. How long would I have to endure him?

  “Don’t speak much, do you? Last girl I tried to pull was a little freckled thing, not very nice. Had to punch her, but she still got away from me. You’ll be nice to me though, won’t you?”

  Rage simmered. Freckled thing. He was talking about Katie. My fingers twitched, desperate to pull one of the weapons from my back. I just needed an audience first.

  My gaze darted over his shoulder. There, just behind him, a large-eyed sentinel drifted from behind a street corner. When I glanced at the skies, I found another floating overhead.

  Fucking finally.

  I pulled the bow off my back, nocking an arrow. When I aimed it at him, he paled.

  “I’m not sure I can aim very well,” I lied loud enough that the sentinels could hear me. I had to appear ruthless while also underplaying my actual skills. “I could fire a warning shot, but I’m not quite sure it would miss you. I think the lesson here, my friend, is that you need to keep your hands to yourself.”

  “You’re not really going to shoot me with that thing, are you? It’s not my fault women like you walk around, frothing at the gash…”

  My arrow hit its mark in his thigh. “Whoops! I was trying to do a warning shot but the thing slipped. How do you even use this…”

  I loosed the second, taking out his other thigh. His shrieks rent the air.

  “Oh dear.” I frowned at my bow. “They just sort of go where they want, don’t they? I think I’ll use something less confusing.”

  The sentinel soared overhead serenely, taking it all in.

  I reached into the quiver on my back, pulling out my baton.

  As he hunched over screaming, I slammed the baton into the side of his head. Once. Twice. The bag of potatoes fell to the sidewalk.

  I needed it to look brutal, bloody. Three times. And Dickhead’s broken nose didn’t disappoint. It was the second time I’d broken it. Blood spewed from his nose, spattering over my arms, and he fell to the pavement, unconscious.

  My whole body was shaking, but I slowed my breathing, trying to project calm. I could still see his chest rising and falling.

  I swallowed hard, staring down at him. What would happen if I let him recover? He’d keep tormenting my friends, maybe try to assault Katie again. He’d steal their food. He’d probably kill them.

  In the world of the Great Nightmare, mercy didn’t make any sense.

  There was a time when I’d have considered it a great moral crime to execute an unconscious man. It wasn’t self-defense; he wasn’t attacking. He was simply lying there, bleeding.

  But there was nothing to stop him from carrying on in the same way when he woke up. No one was getting put in jail, no one was getting rehabilitated by a team of well-meaning psychologists. In the Great Nightmare, we could kill the monsters or let them kill us.

  I slipped the bloodied baton back into my quiver. Then I pulled my knife from its holster. I brought it down hard into his heart. When it pierced his flesh, a thin stream of blood trickled from his lips, and his chest stilled. I swallowed hard.

  My first kill.

  I stood in the darkening street, and a cold sweat prickled over my body. Calm, Ruby. Stay calm. Neither death nor shadows would rattle a succubus. I was supposed to be a creature of the night.

  I stared at the blood pooling below the body. Soon the hounds would arrive.

  Chapter 12

  Standing over Dickhead’s corpse, the shadows were thickening and growing around me. Icy fear surged through my veins. I lowered the quiver from my back, then pulled out a handkerchief. Carefully, I wiped the blood from my arms.

  Here was the thing about angels. They didn’t need to plan any more massacres or plagues. All they had to do was peel away the veneer of c
ivilization, and we’d do it ourselves.

  I glanced at the sky. The last rays of sunlight had nearly disappeared. In January, that put the time at around four-thirty. Nearly time.

  Without looking back at the corpse staining Brick Lane, I strode down the narrow, winding lane, whistling cheerfully to myself. Angela Death—my succubus character—might not be great with a bow and arrow, but she certainly wouldn’t be rattled by a human death.

  Two more sentinels drifted overhead, eyeing me carefully. Clearly, the brutal succubus had attracted their attention. I’d achieved at least one of my goals so far, but this evening wasn’t over. And it wasn’t about to get any easier.

  By the time I reached the end of Brick Lane, the sun had disappeared behind the buildings, the sky now a deep indigo. Goosebumps rose over my skin, and I wished desperately for a lantern or a candle.

  I crossed to Bishopsgate, heading toward Liverpool Street Station. When I crossed the London dragon marker—the statues that demarcated the old city lines—I heard the first hounds, howling in the distance.

  The moon shone brightly tonight, streaming over the ruined city. An icy shiver ran up my spine, but I kept strutting over the sidewalk—just a glamorous succubus out for a walk in an apocalyptic city, impervious to the cold, or the night, or the creatures that would tear the flesh from my bones.

  After two blocks, I saw them—the three members of the Order I’d been expecting. They stood below a net. Flickering torches lit its powerful ropes. Despite the impending chaos, I felt a flood of relief at the soothing signs of light.

  I caught a glimpse of the ruby-red eyes of one of Kratos’s hounds inside the net. The beast hung suspended between two derelict lampposts. Despite its terrifying howls, I almost felt sorry for the creature.

  I kept my pace steady as one of the Watchers pointed a gun at the net. All three men wore masks, their faces completely obscured.

  I glanced at the sky again, taking comfort in the sight of the sentinels floating beneath the moonlight. Our brutal, choreographed dance was all going according to plan, every step in the right place—so far. And just as we’d planned, the sentinels were our audience.