The Exile: Book One of the Fae

by C. T. Adams

  So, she needed something that would protect not only the inhabitants, but her apartment as well as the shop and its contents. She did not want to duel this woman, whoever she was. But risky as that would be, it would not be nearly as dangerous as having the denizens of Faerie believe her weak. Brianna knew she was being watched. She was her father’s daughter, and a royal. Of course she was watched.

  So I need to give them something to see. Preferably something impressive enough that no one will mess with me.

  It was a tall order, but worth the effort.

  She spread her hands atop the work table. She knew every scar that marred the surface beneath her fingers—a burn here, where a stone had exploded from the stress of a spell, a faint claw scratch there. She scanned the wood with her other sense, checking to be sure nothing would interfere with the work she was about to perform. Magic flowed through the wood, humming flawlessly beneath her fingers. Excellent. She would not need to cleanse the table before beginning. That was good. The work she was about to do would demand enough energy without adding one more thing.

  Opening her eyes, she glanced around, trying to figure out exactly what supplies she would need, in what quantities, for the protections she was going to build. Perhaps she should ask Pug.…

  He appeared as if her thoughts had conjured him, climbing down from the rafters with nimble proficiency. He was graceful, in his way. Surprising in a creature made of solid granite.

  “Thank you for earlier,” Brianna said with a smile.

  His claws clicked against the concrete floor as he came to join her.

  “You were doing fine without me,” he growled.

  Brianna blinked a little in surprise. He was not prone to giving compliments.

  “Thank you.” Brianna appreciated his faith in her but wasn’t sure he was right. Damn, that woman had been powerful.

  He gave a brief nod and leapt onto the tabletop. It was a testament to the strength of the wood and the furniture’s solid construction that he could. “Were you thinking talismans or runes?”

  “Talismans for David and Max,” she answered. “Runes for the four corners of the building’s foundation and the four corners of the roof.”

  She reached around him to collect a pencil and sketch pad. With deft strokes she drew out her plans so he could see them. It would take a full day to create that many artifacts, but she was hoping to build a full web of protection around and within the walls of the building, and she wasn’t about to leave her employees vulnerable. They were her responsibility … and her friends.

  Pug nodded his approval.

  “I don’t suppose you’d wear a talisman if I made you one?”

  Pug snorted with derision and rolled his eyes. It made him look utterly ridiculous, but she didn’t laugh.

  “You’re the one she was after,” Brianna pointed out.

  She was pushing and he didn’t like it. Without a word he jumped down from the table and stalked across the floor to the storage shelves. Gargoyles were among the smallest of the stone trolls, larger only than the rocs. Still, he had the gift of all the trolls, a natural affinity for rocks of all kinds. He’d be able to pick out the best pieces to use for this to work in a matter of seconds where it might take Brianna more than an hour—and she still might get it wrong.

  Pug didn’t speak, but his barbed tail waved irritably back and forth as he crossed the room. The noise of stone grinding on concrete made Brianna grit her teeth, and she forced herself to ignore the slight grooves his tail was wearing into the floor.

  “I’ll think about it,” Pug finally said.

  Brianna blinked slowly, glad that he couldn’t see her reaction. Pug was one of the toughest and most courageous beings she’d ever known. The fact that he would even consider wearing extra protection made it clear that she wasn’t the only one worrying about the blonde. Brianna chewed at her lip with her teeth—something she hadn’t done since childhood. “I wish I knew who she was, and why she was exiled.”

  “You could contact your father,” Pug said as he climbed up the heavy metal utility shelves like a monkey.

  Brianna groaned. She couldn’t help it. Her father was Fae to the core. If she wanted information, she’d have to barter for it and she couldn’t think of a thing he’d want that she’d give willingly. Of course, that was pretty much the point. The price had to be a price, after all. “I’d rather not. I’ll check with Mei first, show her the surveillance video. She’s older than I am. She may know this woman.”

  Brianna rose, retrieved the large stepladder from where it leaned against a wall, and set it up by the bookshelves. While she could do an adequate protection spell from memory, it was likely she’d find a better one in one of the secure books—something that she could adapt to use both her human and Fae magic.

  “If she doesn’t, her father might. But whatever it takes, you need to find out.”

  “Why?”

  “I tasted her blood.”

  “And?” Brianna asked from the third step of the ladder.

  “She’s incredibly powerful, but it’s more than that.…” The gargoyle paused as though searching for the right words. “She tasted wrong … tainted, as if something had fouled her blood.”

  Brianna risked a glance over her shoulder at him. Pug was looking at her, his expression more serious than she’d seen in years. “Do you have any idea what could do that?”

  “No, and I don’t like it.”

  “Neither do I.” Brianna paused, choosing her next words with great care. “Earlier this morning I was thinking of Faerie, wondering what was going on, whether I should go visit.”

  “No.” Pug’s voice was firm. “Bad idea—very, very bad idea.”

  “I know … but this … what happened … it makes me wonder if my other sense is trying to tell me something.”

  The gargoyle went still, his expression pensive. “You don’t have your mother’s gifts of foresight,” he began, “but you’re not a null, either.”

  “I wish there was an oracle.…”

  Pug turned away, so she couldn’t see his face, but there was something furtive in the movement. “Pug?”

  He turned to face her again but his features gave nothing away.

  “Ask Mei to go. If she won’t check on things for you, I will check with my brother. But you should stay here unless they give you no choice.”

  “What makes you think they won’t?”

  He growled. “I’m not a null, either.”

  His words were not at all comforting. Then again, she hadn’t been looking for comfort. She needed information in order to protect herself and the others. When Mei returned from her trip, Brianna would see if she was willing to cross the veil for a visit. In the meantime, Brianna would deal with the more immediate threat.

  She turned her attention back to the bookshelves. Eventually, she found what she wanted, in an ancient grimoire. The writing was faded and the language difficult enough that she reread it twice, still standing at the top of the ladder, to make sure she understood it well enough to use the spell.

  She met Pug back at the table and set to work. It took two full hours until she was satisfied with David’s talisman. She slid the glowing stone, still hot to the touch, onto a plain silver chain from her jewelry stock. Once it had cooled a bit, she gave it to David, telling him to wear it next to his skin at all times.

  * * *

  It was late afternoon by the time Brianna finished all of the pieces to her satisfaction. She was exhausted, plus sore and stiff from sitting in one position too long. But she knew she’d done good work—she could feel the power thrumming from each individual stone. Once she set the runes in place, the building would be a formidable magical fortress.

  It hurt to drag her weary body from the stool. Looking from the books stacked on the table to the ladder Brianna couldn’t help but sigh. She was so damned tired. Even thinking about replacing the volumes on the shelves seemed to take too much effort. But she didn’t dare leave these particular
books sitting out. In the wrong hands they’d be dangerous.

  As if he’d read her mind, Pug reappeared in the doorway. “I’ll clean up. Put the stones in the safe and get some rest. You look like something Camille dragged in from the alley.”

  Brianna shook her head in weary negation. “I need to get the runes laid.”

  Pug’s jaw thrust forward stubbornly. “Can you honestly tell me you have the energy to set the spell properly right now?”

  If she said yes, she’d be lying, and they both knew it.

  “Go take a nap. I can stand guard for a couple of hours.”

  Brianna opened her mouth to argue, then thought better of it. She really was exhausted. Feet dragging, she locked the runes in the safe next to the stone knife. That done, she ducked into the store just long enough to give Max’s talisman to David. He’d give it to Max when she came in and pass along the instructions on how to wear it. Then she went upstairs to her apartment.

  Brianna automatically bowed at the painting without really seeing it. Rising stiffly, she stared at the hall in confusion. It said much about her level of fatigue that it took her almost a full minute to realize what had changed. First, Camille had moved her kittens from the box downstairs into the laundry basket full of clean towels. And the basket had been moved from the occasional table onto the floor, replaced by a sculpture.

  It was a stunningly beautiful piece: black marble carved into the shape of a pair of lovers entwined. Every detail was absolutely perfect. An art appraiser would undoubtedly say it was worth a fortune—not that anyone would ever see it. The thing positively reeked of Fae magic and was probably a gift from her father. Brianna looked for a note or card and spotted a piece of folded and sealed parchment pinned under a corner of the base.

  Ignoring the small bundle of black fur determinedly attacking her left boot, she carefully extricated the note without touching the statue itself. The wax seal bore the mark of the Sidhe monarch’s signet ring. No one but the rightful ruler could get, or use, that ring. It was tied to him or her and would respond to his magic alone.

  “Oh, shit.”

  Brianna turned at the sound of Pug’s voice coming up the stairs behind her. “Is that what I think it is?”

  “A gift from my father.” Brianna’s words were slightly slurred from exhaustion, her movement slow as she showed him the card.

  “Ah.”

  Brianna stared at the statue and wondered what His Royal Majesty was up to. It was an ungracious thought, but not unwarranted. Her relationship with her father was … complicated. Leu was, foremost and always, the king. He loved his daughter; she never doubted that. But his first duty was to his subjects, a duty he took very seriously.

  He was also proud, stubborn, and until Brianna’s mother came into his life, Brianna doubted anyone had ever dared disagree with him, let alone asserted their will over his in any matter, large or small.

  It was Helena’s streak of defiance that had both attracted and repelled him: that and the Fae’s long-standing fascination with humans. Brianna had been told that Faerie had been very different in her grandfather’s time. But he had died in an attempted coup along with the rest of the family long before she’d been born. Only Leu had survived, by a trick of Fate.

  Under Leu’s rule Faerie closely resembled the human world. But the differences, while not always obvious, were profound and deadly. Those were the dangers that had trapped or killed the unwary for generations.

  Brianna knew that, while she physically resembled her father, in many ways she was very much Helena Washington’s daughter. She was stubborn, willful, and had never excelled at the intrigue that was a major part of palace life. That frustrated her father to no end and even though she had left Faerie, she knew that he—and others—still included the fact of her existence in their plots and plans. The king also believed that he knew what was best for her, Brianna knew; she was certain that he watched her and watched over her. She suspected that he even occasionally manipulated circumstances from behind the scenes.

  Leu was king, and he was Sidhe, and their customs made for very complicated relationships. This gift was a prime example.

  “A love and fertility totem.” Pug kept his voice carefully neutral. Brianna didn’t know if he was managing her, or worried that HRM was studying their reactions.

  “Yes. It is.”

  “Did you touch it?”

  “No.” But she wanted to, desperately, which meant that dear old daddy had targeted the spell directly at her. Damn it. If she touched that statue, the next “suitable” male she ran into would fall into irresistible lust with her, they’d bang like bunnies until she was preggers, and then … well, then his part of the spell would be over and she would have a baby to contend with. Brianna was not knocking babies. They were cute. Adorable even. But she was definitely not ready to be a mother. And despite her father’s blood in her veins, she was human enough to want a relationship, not just a sperm delivery. Maybe even a marriage. And that was a concept so completely foreign to her father’s people that they didn’t even have a word for it. Among the Fae, monogamy was considered perverse, baffling, and unnatural.

  “Back away from the statue,” Pug advised. “Go down the hall. Rest up. When you’ve had a chance to sleep you’ll be better able to figure out what to do about this, and find a suitable return gift.”

  It was excellent advice. So why did Brianna have such a hard time putting her father’s note on the table, slipping her hands into her pockets, and walking away? Magic.

  3

  NICK ANTONELLI

  “Antonelli, my office, now.” Captain Brooks was a no-nonsense, hard-core cop who’d come up through the ranks, earning his position through hard work, long nights. Like many in his line of work he had failed marriages behind him, and an uncertain future once he retired. But that was the future. Now he was the captain, and the boss. The job was his life. And nobody, but nobody argued with him when he used that tone of voice.

  Nick followed him down the hall to a small, square office dominated by a single worn desk buried under teetering piles of manila file folders. Large windows looked out on the “bull pen” where the officers Brooks supervised sat. Behind the desk stood bookshelves that were filled with worn textbooks on criminal investigation techniques, forensics, anatomy, and weaponry, along with old three-ringed binders that held God and the captain alone knew what. The only personal touches were some old faded snapshots of his children and grandchildren, and a pair of bowling trophies.

  Two chairs faced the captain’s desk. One was already occupied by a blond man with sharp features and cold blue eyes. Nick had seen him before—around the federal courthouse when he was waiting to testify. He was a fed, a Fibbie. He greeted the man with a brief nod before taking the open seat beside him, all the while wondering what in the hell was going on.

  Captain Brooks sat. Leaning back in his chair he made the appropriate introductions. “Nick Antonelli, this is Special Agent Jesse Tennyson. Special Agent Tennyson, this is Detective Nick Antonelli. Agent Tennyson is here to ask you a favor.”

  “A favor?” Nick didn’t bother to hide his skepticism. In his personal experience the feds didn’t politely ask for favors. They demanded what they wanted—and they generally got it.

  Tennyson gave Nick an assessing look, taking in every inch of his appearance in that single glance—much as Nick himself had done a few seconds before. Nick knew what he saw, a big man, his hair a little longer than average, its coffee-brown curls touched by just a hint of gray. Hazel eyes stared unflinchingly at the world, dominating a face with a strong jaw, high cheekbones, and deep dimples. He looked hard, tough, the kind of man casting directors would seek for a “made man” in an ’80s-era De Niro movie, but with a better suit, perfectly tailored to emphasize broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and conceal the shoulder rig that was a daily part of his uniform.

  “Your brother is David Antonelli.”

  Shit. Hell, damn, fucking shit. Do not tell me David is invol
ved in something the feds are investigating. “Yes.”

  “And he works for Brianna Hai.”

  “Yes.”

  A slight smile tugged at the corner of Tennyson’s mouth. He could tell that Antonelli wasn’t happy about his line of questioning, and it amused the hell out of him.

  Glad one of us is having a good time, Nick thought sourly. David, what in the hell have you gotten yourself into?

  “We’ve been looking at Brianna Hai in regard to a couple of unsolved cases—but we’re having a hard time getting close to her. She has a very small, and extremely tight-knit circle of acquaintances.

  “And you want to use my brother?”

  “No. He’s close to her, but not one of her confidantes.”

  Nick sat up straighter.

  “We want to use you. Hai doesn’t socialize much. She works at the shop, works out at the gym, and occasionally does a little modeling for a local artist. We’ve determined that the best way to get close to Brianna is at the gym where she works out—the Ju-Long Gym and Dojo. But it’s not open to the public: private membership, by invitation only. We’re hoping that you can convince your brother to wrangle you and your friend Jesse an invitation.”

  “It won’t work. David knows I work out at our uncle Phil’s, always have.”

  “Your uncle Phil is going to close down for six weeks to do some remodeling,” Tennyson said mildly.

  “I see.” He did, too. The feds were apparently serious enough about this to convince Phil to shut down.

  “In exchange for your help in this, we will keep your brother out of it as much as we possibly can.”

  Nick looked over at the captain who was giving his best neutral expression. There was nothing to read there.

  “Just an invitation?”

  “That’s all. Just get me in the door.”