Courts and Cabals 2

by G. S. D'Moore

  If the mission was clear, the environment, the battlefield where she would fight, was less so. A reconnaissance of the school showed there was still a lot of commotion. Cloaked in glamour, she investigated. Local police, augmented by NYS troopers, were going through Lilith’s room with a fine-tooth comb. She didn’t understand why the mortals were dusting for fingerprints in the whore’s bedchamber. This was obviously her room, and if they used the blacklight Aveena spotted in their bags, they would see horrors they couldn’t unsee. Cam’s room was next door, and she slipped in when the forensic specialists were focused elsewhere.

  She’d never been to Cam’s room before. Killing him was beneath her station until now, so she delegated that task. “And Chloe died for it.”

  Despite the water nymph’s lesser blood, Aveena had been fond of her. The only other full-Fae bound to her House in the area, it was easy for them to keep in touch and talk about home. The changelings Aveena was normally surrounded with had never been to the Fae’s home realm, and likely wouldn’t unless they accounted themselves well during their service. In other words, changelings were fucking useless back in the lands of the Fae and would just die a quick, impractical death. They were of more use here.

  She scanned through Cam’s belongings carefully and quickly. Her glamour was strong enough to conceal her from the forensics team, but if a human mage wandered by on the lookout for foreign magic, they would spot her. She went through his belongings looking for anything that would give her an advantage over the man. He’d proven to be more than she anticipated, and discounting him as a weak human had been a fatal error. She wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

  For the most part, his room was like any other teenage male’s: pornography, smokes, and a variety of low-cost clothing. She set aside her dignity and looked through his underwear drawer for anything that might be hidden. The only thing she found was a couple hundred dollars concealed in a pair of socks. She frowned and moved on to his desk.

  “Here’s something,” she grabbed a plain wooden box and opened it.

  Inside were trinkets and a spark of magic. There was a picture of a woman, who judging by her face was Cam’s biological mother. Aveena had extensive files and surveillance done on Cam’s foster family in case she needed to leverage their lives, so she knew this wasn’t them. The woman was smiling, and was not unattractive, but she lacked the true beauty someone like Aveena possessed. Still, she pocketed the picture just in case. Sentimental items that someone kept with them every day had interesting magical properties, and she might be able to use it to her advantage.

  Carefully, she reached for the pocket watch. That was where the real spark of magic came from. Even more interesting, it wasn’t human magic. It also wasn’t Fae; it was something different.

  “Interesting,” she’d have to find someone willing to divulge its secrets. She noted the inscription on the inside, but didn’t have any more idea what it said than Cam had.

  Because she wasn’t an idiot, she made sure to make a buffer of glamour around the object before tucking it in her pocket. There was plenty of magic out there that ate other magic to gain power, and she wasn’t about to get killed by a mysterious timepiece. With the two mementos secured, she gave the room a final look and stepped.

  She walked three paces and stepped back into the mortal realm on the far side of the football field between the school and Vincent’s Hollow. She took a moment to listen, look, and extend her senses outward in search of threats. There was nothing, but assuming there was nothing could be a fatal error she couldn’t afford to make. Secure in her safety and seclusion, she continued planning.

  Time was a factor. Her mother wouldn’t wait forever, and time didn’t work the same in the Faerie realm as it did here. Humans saw time as a constant, but the Fae knew it was a fickle thing not to be counted on or underestimated. So, she knew she needed to move fast.

  Next to consider were resources. Her mother wouldn’t offer any power, but power had a different meaning for Fae. She wouldn’t lend any of her magic to support Aveena, like she had with Godric to allow him to make interdimensional portals. If Aveena had that magical support, she could kill her half-sister, take Cam, and be home in a few hours. Such was the power of one of The Nine. Instead, she would have to use more mundane means, and what magic was available below whatever threshold the Lady of Winter deemed acceptable.

  Like a game of chess, she counted her pieces. She reached down for the bonds embedded in her bloodline and sought out those who owed fealty to her personally. First to solidify in her mind’s eyes were twelve changelings. Some had attended St. Vincent’s, and others had not. She gave them all commands through the bonds, and access to the necessary funds to make it happen. They needed weapons, armor, transportation, allies if they could be trusted, and intelligence. She set those dozen half-Fae in motion before she even started tracking Cam. She had a hunch her half-sister would retreat to the cabal’s stronghold; that’s what Aveena would do in that situation, so she sent her people to Nevada to begin reconnaissance of the most likely target.

  Ymira Foxbelle, and most other powerful Fae, didn’t consider money to be power; after all, it was just paper mortals attached value to. Aveena still had access to all of the House’s accounts in the mortal realm; accounts with sums in the tens of millions. She gave the changelings the access codes through the blood bonds. It would take them a day to get to Vegas and set up, which gave Aveena time to dig deeper into her blood and find those who would determine her ultimate success.

  The changelings were the easiest bonds to call upon, but there were others in this realm that swore fealty to House Foxbelle. She reached into the core of her noble blood where the fealty of powerful, full-Fae resided. Distance didn’t matter for this magic to work. It was engrained in all Fae at the genetic level. As she completed her dive, she sensed several individuals like they were standing right next to her. Of those half dozen possibilities, three immediately broke the bond’s contact with polite denials; which told Aveena her mother had declared them off limits. The other three were hers to command.

  One was a troll residing in Missouri and living his life undercover as a construction worker. He was weaker than Ser Fredrick, not a knight of Winter’s court, but something big and ugly would be useful as a distraction. The second was a selkie in California. She was a known Fae openly competing in surfing competitions against mortal supernaturals.

  Selkie were a type of water Fae with the ability to shapeshift like human shifters. Legends about a sealskin that human males would try and steal from selkie females was a bunch of bullshit. A Selkie’s true form looked nothing like a seal. It looked like a great white shark had fucked an octopus. It was all teeth, tentacles, a tough hide, and a bad attitude. They didn’t like to stray far from water, so Aveena prepared for a grumpy soldier.

  The selkie in question purposefully misled the humans she competed against. It wouldn’t help her if they knew the true terror of the deep they rode the waves with. The woman, Anna Seatwig, acknowledged the call and would rendezvous with the changelings in Las Vegas. She didn’t sound too happy about it, but she knew her duty.

  Last but not least, she connected with the final Fae she would command. The emotions on the other end of the bond were confused for a moment before dissolving into laughter. Aveena knew this Fae, and she would be perfect for what she had planned.

  Saffron Ambersong was a Dryad already living secretly in Las Vegas; right under the cabal’s nose. She worked as a showgirl, dancing her way across the strip in the guise of a lovely young woman. Like all nature spirits, she was seductive and a natural trickster. Having her in position would allow Aveena to set up a base of operations before her people even arrived. If the cabal was on the lookout for new supernaturals infiltrating their community, Saffron would be able to thwart their efforts.

  Even better, a quick acknowledgment from Saffron told Aveena she already knew where Cam was, and she would be the person in the best position to infiltrate and ret
rieve the mortal man who was making Aveena’s life a living hell. She ordered the dryad to hold off on the snatch and grab. She was to prepare for Aveena’s arrival, and assist the changelings, troll, and selkie in flying under the radar when they arrived in town. If the cabal expected someone was moving against them, they would crush Aveena’s small army like a bug. She couldn’t have that happen and expect to survive.

  With her pieces on the board, and in motion, she had one final task to complete before traveling to Vegas. Ser Fredrick had a pixie sworn to him. In terms of power, the creature was negligible, but what she did provide was a crucial link to Cameron Dupree. When Cam absorbed Ser Fredrick’s power – something Aveena still didn’t understand – he most likely received the fealty of the pixie, and that could be turned against him. Bonds worked both ways, and while noble Fae had developed defenses over time to counter attacks through the bond; Cam would be ignorant of the threat until it was too late.

  That was Plan A; use the pixie to bring down Cam and take him to her mother. Plan B was to use Saffron’s infiltration abilities, and Plan C . . . well, Plan C was going to be messy, so it was best used as a last resort.

  She smiled as she stepped away from the academy and into the realm between realms. There was nothing truly real in this place, just shadows of the mortal realm just beyond its reach. One step could be a foot or a hundred miles. Humans would go mad here if left alone, but the Fae mastered this place eons ago. They bent it to their will and used it for more than just travel from point A to point B. The lower Fae just called it the Land Between, or the Shadow Realm; humans called it a parallel dimension or some other scientific term that failed to grasp the complexity of its true nature. The noble Fae called it all those things, but with their powerful gifts, it had another purpose: this was the Land of the Wild Hunt.

  Looking deep inside herself, past the blood bonds she’d called upon to set her strategy into action, Aveena unlocked a wild part of herself. The part of her genetic code that had been passed down from generation to generation as her ancestors stalked malks across the tundra; a part that embodied the hunt. When she did, sensation exploded all around her. The dull, matte space dissolved like someone had dropped a bomb in it, and the veil between this realm and the mortal one grew thinner. She was able to perceive both with greater clarity, and that allowed her to hunt.

  One step and she was at the pizza joint. The old shifter was still there, talking with the local police about the incident. She could smell the silver metal that had been around his wrists for some time, but was now removed. She felt the remnants of the bleeding grounds. The ancient dueling space had fled when the human agents exited the domain. The place had a mind of its own, and wouldn’t come again when Aveena called. It knew how to hold a grudge.

  She also tasted the creature that had breached the barrier. “Dragonspawn,” she spat.

  She knew the half-blooded beasts, and knew they were nothing compared to their full-blooded parents. If she had been at full strength, she could have defeated the half-breed.

  More importantly, she caught the whiff of pixie dust. She stepped again, and found the place the knight’s servant had been waiting. Normally, pixies didn’t give off so much dust, but this was where it had felt its master die. The lower Fae were susceptible to their emotions, and this pixie was no different. She was sad, scared, and in a frenzy to find her new master.

  Another step and she tracked the pixie to a T intersection. There was no sign of the lesser Fae, but a tow truck was hooking up a beat-up Mercedes to its tow cables. The driver smelled of unwashed flesh and alcohol, but she didn’t care if he drank and drove. She cared about the scent of imp in the car, and matched it to the dark-skinned guard at the bleeding grounds. She was on the right track.

  Another step and she skidded to a stop in front of a blazing barrier. It was nothing but embers in the mortal realm, but here, between, it roared and crackled like it was just getting started. She had to take a step back from the outpouring of heat, and glared at the fire. It reeked of Cam and Lilith, and if she wasn’t too busy hating those two with every fiber of her soul, she would have been impressed. She had to step twice to get around the inferno, and a third step took her to the end of a trail in the woods.

  “Wards,” she stopped and crouched low as she reentered the mortal realm. The pixie had crossed them, and the magic had dissolved the trail. “Damnit,” she cursed and probed the barrier.

  It was weak and rudimentary. Not the work of a great mage. She crossed the threshold in the hopes of picking the trail back up. A few steps into the forest told her that wasn’t going to work. With a sigh, she turned to leave and found herself face-to-face with a robed woman. Technically, it wasn’t face-to-face, it was face-to-tit. The woman was tall.

  “How . . .?” Aveena gaped. She hadn’t even heard the woman approach.

  She didn’t even see the woman move, but next thing she knew, her jaw blazed with pain and her spine complained as it hammered into bedrock. She coughed as she tried to inhale and got a mouthful of dirt for her trouble. She reached up and confirmed whatever the woman had done had broken her jaw, and when she stood up to face the new threat, she was still a good foot from the edge of the deep furrow her body had created.

  “Trap!” her mind screamed and she stepped again just in time.

  She saw the violent aftermath of the strike from the safety of the shadow realm. Even here, the ground rumbled from the elbow the robed woman jackhammered into the space Aveena had occupied a quarter second before. That made the noble Fae gulp. The wards might have been weak and rudimentary, but they were indeed a trap.

  Despite the instinct to flee, she didn’t even breathe as the earth stilled, and the woman got to her feet. The speed at which she moved had torn the robe from her body. Scaled tits glistened against the moonlight, and the vertical slit of her eyes scanned the area until they came to rest exactly where Aveena was standing. The noble Fae felt a sweat break out across her forehead despite their being no source of heat in the land of the wild hunt.

  “I see you, little Fae,” the S’s were elongated as a forked tongue slipped out of the woman’s mouth. “And I can smell you,” her lips pulled back to reveal teeth built to rend flesh from bone. As if to emphasize that point, she chomped them down with a quick clack that echoed through both realms. “Come back and I’ll taste you.”

  Despite knowing the woman couldn’t touch her between, and therefore couldn’t make good on her threats, Aveena still got the hell out of there. She knew when she was outmatched, and although it was a blow to her ego, it was clear following the pixie’s trail was a dead end. On to Plan B.

  “How the fuck did we miss a dragon living down the street from the academy?” she grumbled as she turned stepping into running. At that rate, it would take her under an hour to get to Vegas.

  ***

  Vernon rounded the corner, his combat boots making a slight squishing noise on the plush carpet. To his nose, he still smelled like the spilled fuel from the car wreck at the T-intersection. He smelled like Becky’s blood from where he’d helped rescue her from near death. He smelled like the charred bodies of roasted changelings, and could still feel the aroma of death from the imp who’d had his heart ripped from his body like that poor son of a bitch in Temple of Doom.

  His jaw was set, and his eyes stared straight ahead. Anyone who happened to be in the office after eight skittered out of his way like cockroaches caught in the sunlight. He was on the warpath, and anyone with a brain knew it.

  The Director’s door loomed at the end of the hallway. Her receptionist saw him coming, and her face paled. She started to get out of her chair to intercept him, but thought better of it when his eyes shifted to her. She saw the rage boiling just beneath the surface. She was only human after all, and he could tear through her before she even knew what happened.

  Vernon reached the door and gripped the handle hard enough the metal warped . . . but he didn’t yank it open and march in. Every fiber of his being
ordered him to do just that, and stick his foot so far up the Director’s wrinkly ass that she’d never sit down right again. Still, he paused. He clenched and unclenched his free hand until finally he took a step back. He’d been down this road before, and it didn’t end well.

  He turned to face the frightened woman. “Please ask if she’ll see me. It’s urgent,” he ordered through gritted teeth, and emphasized the point by showing some fang.

  He was so pissed he was having trouble controlling his shift. At the moment, his teeth were caught somewhere between human and wolf. They were too big for his mouth, and he could taste blood as he cut his own tongue and cheeks, but they were the least of his problems.

  “Um . . . yes . . . certainly . . .” the receptionist fled for the safety of the Director’s office. Her reptilian brain seizing on the flight instinct when faced with a predator.

  Vernon was a predator. They tended to forget it in the civilized halls of the United Nation’s New York HQ, but he reminded them of that tonight. More importantly, you don’t fuck with a predator on the hunt.

  He fought down the surge of anger that threatened to burst through his restraint. He knew if he let the beast loose, he’d kill someone; but he couldn’t hold it on its leash forever. When he got the call from Commander Feng to stand down, he’d told the Echelon leader to go fuck himself. Becky had nearly been killed; his Becky. He wasn’t about to let a bunch of snot-nosed little pissants get away with nearly killing his Becky. His possessiveness of the mountain lion shifter didn’t bother him anymore. She was his. The wolf inside him demanded it.