“Hey. That’s mine.”
She turned to find Leon rushing up to her. He held up his hands, slowing down when he recognized her.
“Oh, good. In that case, toss me your keys.”
“But that’s my bike,” he called from a safe distance.
“I’m just borrowing it.”
“Nuh-uh.” Leon shook his head emphatically.
Diana ignited her fingers. She hovered them threateningly over the polished chrome surface of the gas tank.
The big shifter’s face crumpled. “Nooo!”
“Unless you want me to write some of my favorite obscenities on here, hand over those keys. I’ll bring it back. Cross my heart.”
Leon scowled. Diana refused to panic over how far down the Cadillac must be by now. “Keys or I hot-wire it right now.”
With an exaggerated sigh, the shifter tossed the keys at her.
She caught them in midair and gave him a dazzling smile.
Leon shrugged as she turned over the engine. “Maybe when you come back, I can buy you a drink—if you don’t scratch it, that is.”
“Nope,” Diana called behind her as she drove away, forgetting him the second she hit the paved main road.
She had to catch up to the Tic-Tic’s before they chowed down on filet de frat boy.
Chapter 5
They lived in a goddamn mansion. And not some decrepit former plantation house rotting in the woods. No, this place was choice real estate in Boca Raton.
Diana couldn’t believe it. She had tailed the Cadillac for hours, expecting to find the new nest in another part of the Everglades. But they had driven into the city and were now at a sprawling waterfront Mediterranean.
The place was massive. It had two different pools and over two dozen rooms—at least. It was the kind of home drug dealers bought.
What the hell were carrion fae doing in a place like this? Everything she’d heard about them said they preferred to live in swamps, far away from human habitation. For that matter, they were also not known to hide behind a personal glamour. The nest itself was usually protected with a little illusion, which was why they had the ability. But in most cases, lower fae didn’t disguise themselves.
So much for the accuracy of all those dusty species indexes she’d been studying for the last ten years.
Better get a move on. That frat boy was going to get eaten if she didn’t intervene soon. A nagging little voice told her that probably wouldn’t be the worst thing. Frat boys were not a species she was particularly fond of, but this one had helped a cougar in distress. That counted for something.
Diana briefly considered scaling the roof and jumping in through the window SWAT-style, but she settled for the more expedient ground-level entry. Someone had left one of the many veranda doors unlocked.
She crept through the rooms, half expecting a horde to descend at every turn. But no one came.
The house was strangely immaculate, as if most of the rooms weren’t used at all, but were nevertheless scrupulously dusted by a team of maids.
Weird. How did swamp-dwelling fae make this kind of leap? Frowning, she followed the sound of a raucous party.
What she found left her dumbstruck.
The circular formal living room in the center of the house had been converted into a makeshift temple. The moist air had a fetid tang not unlike the marsh where she’d found the abandoned Tic-Tic nests. Diana couldn’t tell if the smell was coming from them or from the rotting vegetation they’d scattered around the room in between marble pillars and the brass grill of the massive decorative fireplace.
None of the fae were glamoured here, which Diana almost regretted. In their natural state, the Tic-Tic’s were not user friendly. They were about four feet tall with dark green pebbled skin, not unlike crocodiles. Their heads were hairless with little pointed ears that were vaguely bat like, and they had wide mouths filled with pointed and crooked teeth. They were all wearing clothes, but most of them hadn’t fastened them properly. Buttonholes were suggestions, zippers a vague inclination. And they were so ugly they were almost cute.
Diana watched from behind one of the marble pillars, wondering how this species of fae closed their mouths without puncturing their lips. She squinted.
Ah, no lips. That explained it.
The woman from the dive bar wasn’t in charge. Their leader was one of the males. Like the others, he was dressed in human clothes, but unlike the underlings milling in the center of the room, his garments were clean and in his size.
Close observation revealed a pattern to the groups movements, almost like a ritual dance. What the hell were they up to?
As if on cue, the lead Tic-Tic climbed onto a table and started shouting. “Eat, Eat!”
Uh-oh. Diana lit a hand behind her back, the little whoosh of the fire igniting unnoticed in the ruckus. But it wasn’t the frat boy they were munching on. That poor schmuck was unconscious and tied to a table off to the side, almost as if he’d been forgotten.
The Tic-Tic’s were passing around a golden apple—just one for the entire pack. Each took a single bite before handing it off to the next in the circle.
Finally, the female, still wearing her cougar outfit, and the leader took the last bites. Together, they placed the core into a wooden box with what appeared to be excessive caution. The box was whisked away, and then the daggers came out.
The lead Tic-Tic launched into a full-blown speech, this time in their native tongue—a series of guttural rumbles and clicks that grated on the ear.
Diana waited until the leader backed away, finally turning the crowd’s attention to the still-unconscious frat boy. The leader’s female, who must be his second, handed him a knife. He held it high, screaming something Diana couldn’t catch. Before he could plunge it down into the boy’s chest, she acted.
Diana narrowed her eyes, focusing her fire talent on the knife. She superheated it until the bone handle splintered and the blade became too hot to hold. The leader shrieked and dropped the weapon.
Diana stepped out from behind the pillar. “All right, I need to know. Just what the hell is going on here?”
Fourteen pairs of rheumy white eyes turned to her, taking in her leather pants and flaming hand with horrified expressions. Or it could have been mild shock. Funny how the lack of lips limited one’s facial repertoire.
It was the cougar who recovered first. She yelled something in their native tongue. When the others didn’t move, she repeated herself in English. “Attack!”
Oh, crap.
Diana hopped behind the frat boy’s table, knocking it over so his body would fall on her side, protecting them both from a frontal assault.
At least half a dozen of the Tic-Tic’s rushed toward her, swarming like a pack of wild dogs. Diana rounded the table again, drawing her katana as she went.
The nearest Tic-Tic fell backward with a scream. He—or she—scrambled away, but the others kept coming.
What the frak was wrong with these guys? Even a squad of warriors from the Seelie court would hesitate to take on an Elemental, even the most junior one.
One of the Tic-Tic’s launched at her. She had a brief impression of gaping jaws and wild, unfocused eyes. Diana batted the thing away with her forearm, saving her sword hand to keep the other five at bay.
After she knocked one of their own into the wall, the remaining Tic’s approached more cautiously. They coordinated with each other by fanning out in a wide arc like predatory cats about to strike.
Gripping her sword tighter, Diana ran her fire up through her closed fist to dance along the razor-sharp edge of her blade.
The Tic-Tic’s didn’t even bat an eye.
Taking on a vamp in a dark alley suddenly seemed like child’s play. Vampires were notoriously fire phobic. But these guys didn’t seem to have the healthy fear of her that normal animals and sentient Supes had.
The three in the middle ran forward, snapping their jaws before feinting back in a confused, snarling mass. Diana used the
flat of her blade to knock two to the ground, one after another, but the two that had been on the ends somehow managed to flank her.
Faster, must move faster. She jumped, but a Tic-Tic vaulted higher to land on her back.
Damn. Diana shook him off and ducked to avoid a second one leaping to take its place. Whirling, she held out her arm, letting her sword slice through the air to make the closest fae retreat.
With a running start, she hopped over a Tic-Tic to get to higher ground. The only option was the back of one of the plush sofas decorating the room. The heels of her boots slid slightly on the unexpectedly damp surface.
Ugh. Diana was pretty sure the wet surface was saturated with urine. The fae had been marking their territory. She wrinkled her nose, but balanced on top long enough to run her sword through a Tic-Tic’s shoulder.
The screech that filled the air was loud enough to make her want to clap her hands over her ears, but she fought against the urge. The noise had come from the female cougar in her strapless dress. She was jumping up and down and shrieking.
Diana didn’t need a fae interpreter to know she was directing her people to regroup and attack again.
“Oh, screw it,” she muttered.
Diana sheathed her sword, and then threw her arms wide. She called her fire talent and let it go in every direction. The ring of flames expanded out, threatening to incinerate anyone in its path.
The only Tic she let it touch was the leader. The conflagration got him in the arm, which he tried unsuccessfully to put out by rolling on the floor. But stop, drop, and roll wouldn’t work to smother this flame.
His screams were horrible, but Diana pulled the fire back when the others joined in.
“Okay,” she huffed, unsheathing her sword and holding it on the leader as she tried not to pant. “Now I’m going to ask one more time. What is going on?”
“We don’t even like it here,” someone cried. It was the first Tic-Tic she’d knocked into the wall.
Diana pushed away from the leader and walked to the crumpled form of the whimpering fae, sword at her side. “Why is your pack here instead of your swamp? And why the hell are you kidnapping humans? You don’t even like fresh meat.”
It was hard to understand the words because of all the tears and sniffling. She had to wait for it—her?— to calm before it could tell her its story.
“We thought it was a miracle, but someone cursed us with it,” the little Tic said.
Finally, something that would explain this mess. “Who cursed you with what?”
The pitiful wretch crawled a little to the left and picked up a smelly pile of rotting leaves. It hugged them to its chest. “I want to go home,” it whispered. “But it always grows back.”
Diana frowned, wondering if it meant the swampy leaves. Those did not look fresh. “What grows back?”
“The fruit.”
“The apple?” she asked, looking sideways to make sure she wasn’t about to be jumped. But none of the Tic-Tic’s appeared ready to resume their attack. They were holding each other in little clusters of two or three, sniffling.
Still holding her sword as a precaution, she advanced to the frat boy’s table. He was still out, but she found the wooden box holding the apple core a few feet away from him.
Diana blinked in disbelief when she opened the box. The golden apple was there—intact, plump, and perfect. The flesh had regenerated.
She held it up, smelling it tentatively.
“Don’t bite it,” one of the other Tic-Tic’s warned. “It makes you want things that you didn’t before.”
Her lips parted. Hell’s bells. She knew what this was, and consequently why the Tic-Tic’s had gone off the rails.
What the hell was that painting called? The one in the Elemental archives…
The Judgement of Paris. A version done by Rubens was the most famous in the human world, but the Elemental archives had an original done by the artist Raphael. Diana remembered it because Gia hadn’t understood the Teenage Mutant Ninja turtle joke she’d cracked when the senior Elemental had shown it to her.
The work of art had hung on the wall in the main antechamber where the reading room was located. It was where Diana had done most of her studying while visiting the archives. She’d been curious enough about the painting to look up the story behind it.
According to legend, Erys, a legendary fae troublemaker dubbed the Queen of Discord, had been upset over not being invited to a wedding. She’d tossed an apple inscribed “to the fairest” at the guests. Three goddesses, Hera, Athena, and Aphrodite had all claimed it. They fought, demanding Zeus decide which of them deserved the distinction.
Zeus, the pussy, had recused himself and fobbed the duty off on the human Paris. Each of the goddesses had tried to bribe the man, but it was Aphrodite’s offer he took. She promised him the most beautiful woman in the world. The fact that said woman, Helen of Troy, was already married didn’t factor into the goddess’s calculations. Or Paris’.
Idiot.
Diana palmed the apple. It wasn’t the Tic-Tic’s fault. They hadn’t stood a chance against something so powerful.
True, Tic’s now had the blood of innocent humans on their hands. Most of them would never be the same. But Diana couldn’t execute them for their crimes when the blame lay elsewhere.
“You don’t get to keep this,” she told them. “I’m taking it with me.”
“No,” the leader screeched, trying to get up to reach her, but two of the others held him back.
“Let it go,” one of them sobbed. “We just want to go home.”
Diana winced, averting her eyes from the emotional display. “You’ll feel better once it’s gone. Go back to your swamp and forget it exists, for everyone’s sake.” She gestured to the frat boy. “I’m cutting this one loose, too. If you ever get the munchies for fresh meat again—the human kind—I’ll be back. You won’t be happy about that.”
There was a susurration that sounded like agreement.
“Louder, please,” she demanded.
“Okay,” the group repeated with dismal synchronization.
Figuring that was the best she was going to get, Diana untied the frat boy and threw his left arm over her shoulder. He smelled of beer and stale corn chips.
At least he hadn’t been awake for this, or else he’d smell like piss, too. With a snort, she started towing him toward the door, shoving the apple that had caused the Trojan War into her jacket pocket.
Chapter 6
Diana dumped the frat boy at the nearest hospital before heading back to The Water’s Edge to return Leon’s bike.
She left the motorcycle out back near the garbage cans where the shifter had originally parked it. Climbing off reluctantly, she patted the shiny chrome handlebars.
I may need to pick up one of these. It had been awesome racing through the streets with the wind in her hair. She’d considered buying a bike before, but during her training period, it hadn’t been necessary. Her more-mobile sisters always provided their transportation. Technically, Diana could travel in her medium, but another fire was required where she landed and the flames rarely led where she wanted to go.
Next time, she consoled herself with a last longing glance at the bike. There was a much-cooler ride waiting around the bend. With a little practice, she could probably get the airboat to do a complete three-sixty.
Intent on having a little fun before returning her rental, she detoured to a wide and isolated hamlet surrounded by mangrove trees. There she proceeded to put the small airboat through its paces by doing loops and spins a seasoned pilot would have hesitated to do.
Diana was having a grand time, which was why she didn’t notice the ripples in the air at first. It wasn’t until the fog rose from the swamp that she realized there was something wrong.
Really f-ing wrong. The swirling mist rushed in like it was on rails, coalescing into a rectangular window. On the other side, the trees and water of the swap around her disappeared. In its place was a gold
en throne room.
“Crap,” she muttered. I really should have expected this.
There was a reason the high fae of the Seelie Court hadn’t intervened to stop the Tic-Tic’s.
Exposure to the humans was a violation of the Covenant. The entire court could be held responsible if the Tic-Tic’s were discovered, yet they had sat back and left carrion-eating fae—literally one of their lowest castes—to set up shop in downtown Boca Raton.
Before the case, Diana assumed the snobs of the Seelie Court were unaware of the Tic-Tic’s crime because their flesh-eating cousins were beneath their notice. But now that she’d found the Apple of Discord in their possession, she had another theory.
Diana turned the wheel and drove through the fog window. She pulled the airboat into the narrow channel inexplicably running right up to the marble flagstones of the throne room.
The canal’s not real. Nothing you see is real, Diana reminded herself. She stalled in the boat, fussing with her seat belt while racking her brains to recall all the research she’d been forced to do on the court and its ruler, the Seelie Queen.
The most important detail had to do with lying. The fae couldn’t lie outright, but they were masters at twisting their words until their opponent couldn’t tell which end was up. No human politician could come close to besting them in that regard.
Diana took in the room at a glance. It was full of ridiculously good-looking people. They weren’t just television attractive. Every face and figure was beautifully airbrushed perfection. These were the elite fae, the noble class whose glamour was expert level.
The queen was sitting in a throne of hammered gold. Her face was sublime, like the kind that graced the covers of the glossy human magazines. Her slim form was garbed in a snowy-white gown that accentuated the amethyst highlights of her lips and eyelids. The throne was surrounded by muscular male guards and ladies-in-waiting wearing long, but more modest, flowing gowns.
Diana stepped off the boat and was immediately flanked by two giant men in matching gold armor. One tried to take her arm, but he withdrew it at once. Diana smiled at him as he shook out his singed hand.
Discordia: An Elemental’s Prequel Page 3