by Nalini Singh
Oh yeah, the prince was a real class act.
“I escaped,” he said.
“Congratulations.”
“You don’t sound happy. We’re celebrating. Join us.”
“Celebrating what? That you and Rake Danescu were able to . . . let’s see, how did you say it? Conduct your business in a civilized manner after you cleansed the human and elf stain from his place of business.”
Finn laughed. “Mere words, love. The best way to escape a madman is to forge a connection with him, to have similar goals. A tactic, nothing more.”
“Uh-huh. As one of the aforementioned stains, I don’t appreciate your tactics.”
The leprechaun’s humor vanished as quickly as his clothes probably had. “And I don’t appreciate SPI’s interference. I did not ask for protection. If you hadn’t come after us, the goblin wouldn’t have found me. You led those goblins to us.” His smile slid into a chocolate-smeared smirk. “When you look at it that way, human, this is all your doing, not mine.”
I wasn’t going to take the bait.
“You set us up,” I said.
“Now what would be in that for me? Besides the satisfaction of making SPI look like witless fools. Which, as you must admit, didn’t take any effort on my part.”
“You tell me. What was in it for you?” I stopped merely looking at him, and locked eyes with the leprechaun. “Wish number one: Tell me who paid you to set us up.”
Finn chuckled. “Hmm, perhaps not as witless as I presumed. Very well, seer. Your answer: I do not know. And if you are truly not witless, then you know that I cannot speak a lie while under wish compulsion.”
Damn, he was right. “What did they give you in payment?”
“Your second wish?”
“It is.”
“I received an anonymous and most generous wedding gift of one hundred bars of gold. In the Seelie Court, favors are often exchanged anonymously. The gift was given with the provision that I lose my SPI bodyguards—making SPI look incompetent, which was a fond wish of mine—and after that, I was to go to Bacchanalia.”
“Do you make a habit of accepting gifts from people you don’t know who want you to go to the most dangerous club for a leprechaun in the city?”
“Is that your third wish?”
“Nope, just a question.”
“Very well. If the reward is large enough and the strings attached acceptable, then why should I not accept the gift? My friends and I didn’t want mortals underfoot on our night out, and Bacchanalia is the best sex club in the city. Why wouldn’t I want to go there?”
“To avoid being kidnapped and having a goblin mage rip three wishes out of you.”
“An acceptable risk, far outweighed by the gift and the delights to be had in Rake Danescu’s establishment.” Prince Finnegan leapt down from the counter, and began walking slowly toward me. “I was getting a good show with you and Rake.” His smirk slid into a leer. “I could tell that you were enjoying it.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Tell me, seer. Had I not sneezed, how far would you have let him take you?”
Finn had endangered me, my team, and was possibly involved in the murders of three SPI seers. It was all a game to him, a game that the sicker and more twisted it got, the better.
“It’s your first night with the agency, isn’t it?” Finn continued. “It hasn’t been the most flattering launch to your career as a seer. Leprechauns are lucky, you know.” He grinned and waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “You could always rub my charms for good luck.”
I slipped my hand into my purse. I’d been wanting to use this all night.
I Tasered Prince Finnegan smack-dab in his Chicken McNuggets.
I looked down at the leprechaun twitching on the tile floor. “Do you feel lucky now, punk?”
Ian stepped up beside me. “I’d say his luck just ran out.”
I’D had a Coke, Egg McMuffin, two hash browns, and now there were five leprechauns in handcuffs, packaged for takeout and headed for home delivery—and I’d made use of the ladies’ room.
A good end to a bad night’s work.
I had a question for my partner. And while I really didn’t want to hear the answer, I’d rather hear it now than be publically embarrassed at headquarters like the first team.
“Am I in trouble for zapping Finn?”
Senior Agent Ian Byrne grimly considered his response.
Oh great, here it comes.
“When I arrived on the scene, I witnessed a suspect in a conspiracy endangering one of my agents. She took steps to protect herself without lasting permanent injury to the suspect. I’d say the situation was resolved in the most appropriate way possible given the circumstances.”
I tried not to smile. “So I did good?”
Ian’s face was an expressionless mask. Almost. “I didn’t say that. I said that it was appropriate given the circumstances.”
To my way of thinking, that meant I’d done good. But as long as “appropriate” wasn’t going to involve yelling, public humiliation, and conference room door slamming back at headquarters, I’d take it.
I didn’t think the boss would necessarily see me Tasering a leprechaun prince in the Happy Meal as a good thing, but I’d be more than happy to have Ian Byrne put that in his official report.
“Will the boss tell the Seelie queen what happened?”
Ian nodded. “She would have been honest with the queen, regardless of how it’d turned out with Finnegan and his boys, but especially now that he may be involved in something bigger. And she’d definitely want the queen to have the truth, rather than the tale Finn will be spinning to make himself look like an innocent victim.”
“She gonna tell the queen that her chief money handler is a disgusting little shit?”
“I’m sure Her Majesty already knows that.”
“Why the hell does she put up with him?”
“He’s good at what he does. You’ll discover that there’s a whole lot more black and gray than white in our line of work. The people and supernaturals we deal with will have motives stacked on top of schemes. Alliances are as knotted as an armful of Christmas tree lights—and about as impossible to untangle.”
We walked out into the parking lot where our team waited in the Suburban. A prisoner transport vehicle had arrived—with extra guards—to take the five leprechauns home.
“What about who’s behind this?” I asked.
“We picked up a few more clues tonight. He—or she—seems to want Rake Danescu out of the picture, meaning Danescu has them worried.”
“Meanwhile Danescu wants his own personal seer to get to the bottom of this on his own.”
“Probably to see if it’s interesting enough to want a piece of.”
“Finn said he escaped from Danescu.”
“I heard.”
I blinked. “You heard?”
“I listened to your entire exchange. I knew Finn would tell you things he’d never admit to me or in an SPI interrogation room.”
I nodded. “The word of the new SPI agent against a Seelie prince.” I growled. “Can I zap him again?”
“Twice would not be appropriate.”
“Too bad,” I muttered. “Why would Rake Danescu let him go?”
“Because I imagine we’re not the only ones tracking Finn. The identity of who’s pulling the prince’s strings might just be worth more to Danescu than three wishes from a leprechaun royal.”
“Three murdered seers and one goblin dark mage willing to give up three wishes from a leprechaun prince. That’s something ugly.”
“And big.”
A chill went through me. “Something a very powerful someone thinks they need to kill me to keep secret.”
“Danescu wants to hire you and keep you alive because his rival wants you dead. Goblins do like to piss each other off. Of more concern to me is how Danescu and his rival knew you had been dispatched from headquarters.”
“We have a spy at SPI?”
Ian’s express
ion darkened. “I hope not.”
BELVEDERE Castle in Central Park was wreathed in magic, gauzy tendrils covering the stone like the ivy did during the daylight hours. The fabric between dimensions was thinner in the moments of twilight and daybreak. Seelie guards in intricate armor—both male and female—patrolled the battlements.
We’d seen a few of NYPD’s mounted police on patrol. All of them near Belvedere Castle had been elves. Like I’d said, elves had a thing for law and order.
Yasha parked next to the prisoner transport, and as close to the castle’s doors as he could get. We got out and were hit with an overwhelming scent of flowers, like a hedge of gardenias. Normally I liked gardenias, but only a few at a time. This was like being smothered by a maze hedge of the things. Yeah, the veil between dimensions was thin, all right.
A limo pulled up moments later. Alain Moreau got out, turned back, and offered a gallant hand to Vivienne Sagadraco. Earlier in the evening, the five leprechauns were clients who needed protection. Now, they were being brought home wearing magical manacles riding in the back of a prisoner transport van. While they weren’t prisoners in the literal sense, more like clients who needed protecting from themselves, SPI/Seelie court relations demanded an explanation.
Ian and I were standing next to the Suburban.
“Surely the Seelie folks won’t be surprised to see their boys being brought home in a paddy wagon,” I said.
“I’m sure it’s happened before.”
I had an unpleasant thought. “Do you think the boss knows I zapped Finn?”
I detected a hint of a smile. “She knows.”
“And I still have a job?”
“You do.”
I sensed his eyes on me. I looked up at him, but his face was mostly hidden in darkness.
“Is it a job you still want?” he asked quietly.
I took a breath. “I kind of came into this thinking that most of the time, I’d be hunting for the supernatural equivalent of jaywalkers. I knew there’d be Big Bad Guys, but I kinda thought those would be the exception. Or did I just have a bad first night?”
“Yes . . . and no.”
“You could’ve stopped with the ‘yes.’ I’d have been perfectly happy.”
“But it wouldn’t have been the truth.”
“So now I’m due the truth?”
“You are.”
“Does the boss know that?”
“She will. I’ll tell her.”
I looked out over the lights shimmering on the surface of Turtle Pond. Peaceful. Quiet. Not like anything I’d encountered tonight.
“Thank you,” I told Ian.
“For what?”
“For honesty—and for being there for me tonight.”
“You’re my partner.”
“And you’re my reluctant partner. I heard you and Ms. Sagadraco talking in her office.”
“I know.”
We grew some silence between us. It wasn’t entirely uncomfortable, but at the same time, it didn’t exactly fill me with the warm and fuzzies.
“I am reluctant,” he admitted.
“More honesty is good.” What wasn’t good was the knot that’d just formed in the pit of my stomach.
“But I’m not reluctant in the way that you think,” he said. “I simply don’t want to involve another seer in this.”
“But you said yourself that it’ll take a seer to get to the bottom of it.”
“Correct.”
“So there’s no way around my being involved.”
“You wouldn’t be involved if you didn’t work for SPI. Do you want to stay?”
The knot grew larger. “I’m not a good enough seer?”
“I didn’t say that. Vivienne Sagadraco didn’t hire you without looking into your background—all of your background. Your family is well-known in supernatural law enforcement. She’s confident in your abilities.” I could see his eyes now. The sky was getting lighter; the sun would be up soon. “You’re good enough.”
“Thank you—again.”
“There’s nothing to thank me for. Merely giving my professional opinion.”
I smiled a little as I watched Alain Moreau and Vivienne Sagadraco talking with two very tall and impossibly beautiful courtiers. At least I assumed that was what they were.
“You still haven’t answered my question,” Ian said. “Do you want to stay?”
“Something big is brewing.”
“It is.”
“It sounds like tonight was just another round in what could be a long fight. Probably the smartest thing I could do is turn tail and run home for the hills.”
“The file we have on you says you don’t always to the smartest thing.”
I felt one side of my mouth twitch upward. “Yeah, it’s a failing of mine.”
“I heard you telling Yasha earlier that you felt called to protect the prey from the predators.”
I smiled. “So I wasn’t the only one eavesdropping tonight.”
“A good agent always keeps their ears and eyes open.”
“And their mouth shut?”
“Sometimes that’s a good idea, too.”
“That’s another failing of mine.”
“I noticed.”
I nodded slowly, more to myself than anything else. “I’d like to stay. If you don’t think I’d screw this thing up six ways from Sunday.”
“I can’t predict any screwups, but I think that given the right training and discipline, you could do a lot of good.” He hesitated. “Can you live with being a target for a while? And having me be your shadow?”
“If I quit and the city went down the crapper, I’d feel like it was my fault. If I stay and do a good job, I could help stop it.” I looked up at him. “Though I’m gonna need a lot of help. I’m new at this.”
Ian Byrne held out his hand and I took it. “That’s what I’m here for, partner.”
THE BEAST OF BLACKMOOR
MILLA VANE
PROLOGUE
Victory made gods of men.
So had claimed the first man who’d hired Kavik’s sword. At the end of the day, the man’s gold had filled Kavik’s purse and the blood of his enemies had stained his armor, but Kavik knew little about gods and couldn’t imagine what it must be to feel like one. After years of swinging his blade to no avail, however, he finally knew what it was to defeat rather than be defeated.
By midnight, victory tasted of too much ale and ached of the urgent need to piss.
Stomach roiling, he stumbled out of the inn and into the courtyard. The heat of this kingdom fed on a man’s sweat even at night. He wiped his brow and turned away from the noises of rutting coming from the shadows. Two other warriors celebrated their victory with more than ale, and he couldn’t stop the sour bile from rising into his mouth as the sounds resurrected memories that he’d buried again and again.
Blindly he walked until the warriors’ grunts no longer echoed in his head. The streets twisted through the city like Blackmoor’s maze of stone. He retraced his path. Nothing was familiar. The courtyard that he thought sat in front of the inn was overlooked by a tower of white marble instead. Runes marked the door.
A temple to the moon goddess, Vela. Kavik had never seen one before. All temples in Blackmoor had been destroyed before he was born. In this land, they must have been, too. This temple had been newly built. The marble still shone like polished ivory.
As he stared, dim recollections crowded his throbbing head. Whispered tales of warriors who earned the goddess’s protection and great reward. They only had to complete a dangerous task in her name.
Kavik had a task to complete. He’d dedicated half his life to it—only to know failure each time.
But today he’d finally known victory. He would soon know it again.
The temple doors were unlocked. He staggered through them and into a dark rounded chamber. No torches or candles burned. The only light shone through the temple walls, where the phases of the moon had been carved through the marbl
e. The carvings circled the chamber, a full turn of the moon, from a thin crescent to full and then waning.
A silver offering bowl sat on a pedestal in the light of the full moon. Kavik started toward it and tripped over an unseen stair. His steel helm slipped out of his hand, dropping onto the stone floor. The loud clatter broke the reverent quiet.
“You are drunk, boy.”
A woman’s voice. A priestess. Through the darkness, he made out the shape of a chair beneath the carving of the new moon.
Boy. She couldn’t know how young he was. Though he’d only seen fifteen winters, Kavik had already grown larger than most men. He stepped into the light shining around the offering bowl so that she could see him better.
“Not a boy. A warrior.” He tossed a coin into the bowl. “With gold earned by my sword.”
His first coins. When he had enough, he would have an army. But he wouldn’t need an army with a goddess by his side.
The priestess’s voice came from the darkness again. “Have you come to pray that you will survive your next battle, then?”
“I want a quest.”
“A quest?” The woman stood, a slim shadow in long black robes. “That is a dangerous thing to ask for, young warrior. No quest comes without great pain. And if you fail, you will wear Vela’s Mark.”
Kavik already had scars. Some on his flesh, some deeper. And some wounds that weren’t scars yet, but still raw and dripping agony from his heart like blood. “The goddess must send me to Blackmoor to defeat the warlord Barin.”
The priestess’s light laughter sounded through the chamber. “You do not dictate what your task will be. Vela will determine what needs to be done and will work through you. You can ask for a reward, though it does not always take the form you expect.”
“I will do anything she requires of me. In return, I want the power to defeat him. If not strength, then the knowledge. He cannot be touched by blade or fire.”
The priestess’s head tilted, as if considering his words as she came closer. She was small, not even of height with his shoulders. A black veil concealed her hair and face.