Covert Fae (A Spy Among the Fallen Book 1)

by C. N. Crawford

  Covert Fae

  A Spy Among The Fallen Series

  C.N. Crawford

  Copyright © 2018 by C.N. Crawford

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Get Angela Death, a companion prequel for free.

  https://dl.bookfunnel.com/hur8ua3i61

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by C.N. Crawford

  Chapter 1

  At the far corner of my rookery, I tiptoed over the trip wires, careful not to trigger the traps. One false step, and I’d find myself in the awkward situation of having to wrench one of my own wooden spears from my ribs. Not my favorite way to spend an evening.

  Just one of the perils of living in a home with an interior design plan inspired by the quaint concepts of maim and kill.

  When I managed to reach the door un-impaled, I peered out a hospital window at Whitechapel High Street. A few rays of coral sunlight pierced the bruise-colored clouds, glinting off the broken glass that littered the streets.

  My breath fogged the window, and I cleared the cold pane with my palm. I focused on the unexpected beauty of the sunset-tinged glass, and stories began to whirl in my mind—stories of glamour and luxury from before the Great Nightmare had begun.

  How long had it been since angels had first come to the Earth? Maybe a year and a half?

  I let out a low whistle. A full year and a half—at least—since I’d been a burlesque dancer on the other side of the Atlantic. In New York, my Stripping Angel act killed like you would not believe. Even better than the Naughty Puritan.

  Funny thing about the apocalypse was that there wasn’t much call for glittery performance art. Sequined pasties, shimmering tassels, fan-dance interpretations of the Salem Witch Trials… Not exactly high on the priority list in the post-apocalyptic hellscape.

  I hadn’t danced a single step since before angels had razed cities to the ground. Not one twirl or arabesque after the angels’ dragon-shifter buddies had kidnapped my sister right in front of me. Still, I had to hold on to beauty where I could find it, keep it alive with stories of the old days.

  And more than anything else, I had to hang on to my dream of finding my sister again.

  I took a deep breath, still working up the nerve to leave the rookery—the hive of homes that survivors had made in the old hospital. It was safe in here, protected by my slightly terrifying traps.

  Unfortunately, I couldn’t stay here all the time.

  Slightly dazed from hunger, I pressed my hand against the glass a final time, staring out at the street. “Hazel,” I whispered my sister’s name, finding comfort in the word. “Where are you?”

  Footsteps sounded behind me, ripping me away from my thoughts. I turned to see my friend Alex gingerly stepping over a trip wire in the dingy hospital lobby. “Ruby, darling. A penny for your thoughts.”

  Just thinking about Hazel, as usual. I smiled. “Thinking about all the delicious food we’re going to eat,” I lied.

  “Didn’t think you were going to leave without me, did you, Ruby?”

  I frowned at him, studying the bruises marring his coppery-brown skin. “Alex, you know I love you, but you just got the shit kicked out of you a few hours ago. Let me do this on my own.”

  “You know you need my mad skills. And what kind of man lets a woman venture into post-apocalyptic hell on her own?”

  I scowled. “Spare me the machismo, Rambo. I might be a woman, but I’m not human. The fae don’t break as easily as humans. No offense.”

  His forehead crinkled. “Fine. I’ll stay behind. But only because you insinuated that I was acting chauvinistic, and now I have no idea what to do. I know you Americans get funny about political correctness, and it scares me more than the gangs or angels.”

  Smiling, I nodded at the hallway that led back to our safe haven. “All you need to do is stay here and wait till I come back with potatoes and meat.”

  “Fine.” He hesitated. “You have weapons?”

  “Of course.” Granted, all I had were scalpels from one of the hospital closets, but they were better than nothing. “I’ll see you for dinner.”

  I pushed through the door into the afternoon light of the world outside. The January air nipped at my skin through my threadbare coat. It was still a little early to leave, but I’d started to become more and more leery of staying out at night.

  When the sun set, there were worse things to fear than demons and gangs.

  Danger or not, I had to get to our hidden garden one way or another if we wanted to eat. In a secret patch of grass off Brick Lane, we grew potatoes in the cold winter soil and left out traps for rabbits.

  Already, I could taste the rich meat, the stewed potatoes, and my stomach rumbled.

  If anyone found our garden, we’d starve in a week.

  In the chilly air, I clutched the straps of my backpack, glancing at the clouds gathering on the horizon. From the front steps of the Royal London Hospital, I surveyed the main street. A light dusting of snow covered the pavement—the worst we’d seen so far in a mercifully warm winter. Plastic bags drifted languidly over the broken asphalt, and bare trees clawed at the skies. A few rays of the setting sun poured through a break in the steely winter clouds and streamed over a pile of ivory bones that lay among a pile of ash on the sidewalk. Human? Animal? Probably best not to think about it too much.

  Shivering, I pulled my jacket more tightly around me and started walking. My skin prickled at the eerie silence that enshrouded the East End, and I kept close to the walls as I walked.

  When I turned onto Brick Lane, a flicker of movement caught my eye. A robed figure drifted down the street, black eyes glistening like inky pools, skin the color of bone. I released a long breath. Just one of the sentinels, out for a patrol.

  Once the whole apocalypse had started, the sentinels had arrived to roam London’s streets, always watching, never speaking. Some flew through the air, and others stalked the alleys. They never touched anyone, never did anything, but we were all sure they reported to someone. To the angels, probably—the godlike creatures who never deigned to walk among us.

  Shuddering, I almost regretted turning down Alex’s offer of help. I needed his stories to keep me sane. I had a sudden urge to hear about his pre-apocalypse days of champagne and gold-flaked cupcakes.

  “Cupcakes…” I hadn’t realized that I was speaking out loud until the word was out of my mouth.

  Hunger ripped through my stomach, and I wiped a bit of drool off my chin. Dignity had de
serted me long ago.

  Just then, a blur of movement in the distance sharpened my fae senses, and my heartbeat sped up. Two figures were moving fast over the pavement—too fast for humans.

  Quickly, I summoned my fae magic. I always wore a glamour to disguise my fae appearance. But now I began to add another layer, transforming myself into a succubus with a tingling of magic over my skin. I hardly had to change a thing—my deep red hair stayed the same, and my petite frame remained unchanged. By keeping the changes minimal, I could conserve energy I badly needed.

  I merely shifted my pistachio-green eyes to black, added a bit of charcoal magic swirling around my body, and voila—another demon roamed these streets.

  Demons tended to leave other demons alone.

  Maybe a succubus wasn’t the scariest of disguises, but it was the quickest one to wrap around myself. One I’d used for years as a burlesque dancer.

  By the time the two redcaps caught up to me, their metal boots clanking over the pavement, they were staring right at a full-blown succubus. As far as they knew.

  Probably naively, I hoped they’d simply take their scrawny asses on past me, uninterested in bothering another demon. Instead, they ground to a halt right in front of me, metal boots screeching on the cold pavement.

  Until this afternoon, I’d never seen two redcap demons standing side by side. And I’d certainly never seen the sinewy old creeps skulking around in London’s daylight. Obviously, things had changed since the Great Nightmare had begun, since there were no police left to protect us.

  Sunlight glinted off the demons’ metallic boots, and their black eyes shone like oil. Apart from their strange footwear, the wiry, blood-spattered demons wore nothing but loincloths. A shudder snaked up my neck when I realized the demons’ caps were glistening with burgundy streaks of gore—the felt fabric dipped in their victims’ blood. If Alex were here, they’d be trying to eat him right about now.

  Stay calm, Ruby. Stay calm.

  “Aren’t you a pretty little succubus?” one of them purred in a thick Scottish accent, stroking his tangled beard.

  I arched an eyebrow. “I hope you don’t expect me to return the compliment.”

  He chuckled, the raspy sound making me cringe.

  You’d think an encounter with two ancient, repulsive demons would make for a good story. Like I said, in the world of the Great Nightmare, stories were our refuge. But I already knew I’d be keeping this one to myself. Our salvation was our happy memories, and this wasn’t about to be a pleasant one.

  In fact, I had a pretty bad feeling about what was going to happen next.

  Mentally, I took stock of my weapons. I had three scalpels tucked into my leather belt, and… nope, it was really just the scalpels. Still, these particular demons didn’t seem like geniuses, so maybe I wouldn’t need a full arsenal.

  One of the redcaps licked his lips, his long, pointed tongue darting out to taste a droplet of blood on his mustache. “Little on the skinny side, aren’t you? Not enough meat on your bones. Not to worry, pretty thing. We’ve got meat for you.”

  Gross. I wrinkled my nose, mindful to maintain an aristocratic, succubus attitude.

  I loosed a sigh. “Not a lot of Michelin-starred restaurants around since the whole apocalypse started. And unlike you two, I don’t feast on human flesh. You ever think that maybe the angels wouldn’t have come to Earth in the first place if demons like you hadn’t been gorging on Earth’s citizens for centuries?”

  One of them rubbed his hands together lasciviously. “You want to see me engorged, eh?”

  I shook my head. “Not even close to what I said. You’re not very bright, are you?”

  “Pretty thing.” He stroked his scraggly beard. “You feast on humans in other ways, don’t you? Maybe the angels came to Earth because of you. Maybe they want to watch you feeding, with your legs wrapped around a human male. Maybe the angels are as naughty as we are. Ever think of that?”

  I gestured at the scorched husks of buildings around us. “I’d say the angels might be worse, in fact, given what they’ve done in their time here.”

  None of us really knew why the angels had come, but their arrival had coincided with the start of the Great Nightmare. I’d say there was a good chance they wanted to slaughter us all just for kicks, and they were more than capable of doing it. Redcaps and demons could be scary, yes. But angels—now they were terrifying.

  One of the leathery old men crept closer to me, flashing his uneven teeth. “And that’s why we need to stick together, you see. Demon on demon. Wrap those pretty legs of yours around me, and I’ll give you some food to eat. Some fresh human rump. Fatten you up. You just need to be nice to me first. You know how to be nice, don’t you, succubus?”

  Obviously, the succubus glamour had been a bad call. Should have gone for an ogre or a troll, even if it sapped all my energy.

  My stomach tightened, and I took a step back from them. I could try to run, but no one was faster than a redcap, and few demons were stronger. “A succubus chooses her men, not the other way around.”

  One of the redcaps grinned, sharp teeth glinting. “Times have changed in the Great Nightmare, pretty thing. Females are slaves now. Now be a good little succubus, and take off those filthy clothes. Let me see what charms you’re hiding underneath.”

  As my blood began to boil, I took another step backward, reaching for one of the surgical scalpels tucked into my leather belt. Whipping it from its holster, I pointed it at the closest redcap.

  “What do you plan to do with that?” he sneered. “An emergency appendectomy?”

  Succubi weren’t known for their amazing aim.

  But the fae were.

  I threw the scalpel, and it plunged into his chest. Wide-eyed, he clutched at the protruding metal, blood streaming between his fingers, and I reached for the next scalpel. That one hit its mark in the second redcap’s neck, and blood arced through the air.

  Only pure iron would kill them, but the steel would slow them down. I pivoted, breaking into a run at the full speed of a fae—far faster than a human, faster than a succubus.

  Just—unfortunately—not as fast as a redcap.

  I got maybe fifty yards before bony fingers scraped my scalp, yanking me backward onto the street by the roots of my hair. I slammed down on the pavement, the wind leaving my lungs. In the next second, the redcap was on top of me, his bloodied teeth bared, bony knees in my chest. The scalpel protruded from his ribs.

  Frantically, I yanked the final scalpel from my belt.

  But before I could slam it into his neck, he clamped a powerful hand around my wrists, the other around my throat. He began to squeeze.

  I fought the urge to fade, to reveal my true, primal fae form. If this was how they’d treat a succubus, I didn’t want to think of what they’d do to a feral fae.

  As the burning rose in my lungs, my eyes bulged.

  Running out of air… I stared beyond the redcap at the sky, hoping for a glimmer of salvation—maybe a passing valkyrie who could help a girl out.

  Instead, I saw a single, shimmering midnight feather drifting to Earth, and my heart stopped. Somehow, this herald of an angel’s presence terrified me more than the redcap choking me.

  I have to get out of here, or I will meet an angel face to face.

  Chapter 2

  The shock of the angel feather jolted my body alive with pure adrenaline—enough to give me the boost I needed to wrench my hand free for just a moment. A moment was all I needed.

  I brought the scalpel hard into the redcap’s back, and the blow stunned him just enough to make him release his grip on me. I grabbed the back of his tangled hair, yanking him off me as I thrust my hips. When he fell to the ground, I leapt up, slamming my boot into his skull with the full force of my fae strength.

  As I kicked him again, trying to crack his skull, a shimmering, deep-blue glow caught my attention. I froze, ice-cold fear spreading through my body.

  He’s here.

  Whe
n I looked up from the redcap, my stomach dropped. The angel’s enormous, midnight-blue wings spread out behind him, fifteen feet wide. There, in the middle of the road, stood an angel, divinely beautiful and terrifying all at once.

  Both bloodied redcaps had crawled to their elbows. All three of us stared, seemingly frozen in time.

  The angel towered above us, honeyed sunlight washing over his perfectly bronzed skin. I caught glimpses of the magic curling from his body, dark as the hair that swept over his forehead. In contrast to the shadows that seemed to pool around him, light refracted off his inky wings, dazzling me.

  His clothes looked expensive, finely cut to showcase his powerful body. In the deep V of his elegant shirt, I glimpsed a hint of spiked, thorny tattoos decorating his tawny skin.

  Barefoot, he prowled closer to me, his gait relaxed. In fact, his expression looked amused, a lazy smile curling his lips. Our terror, our filth, our savagery, our frantic will to survive—it was all probably a hilarious joke to him.

  When he came within a few feet, his power thrummed and sparked over my skin like an electrical pulse. I stared into his eyes—a stormy gray that blended to deep sapphire around the edges. Flecks of silver sparked there too.

  Instinctively, I knew that he was a predator, and that beauty was one of his most terrifying weapons.

  He stalked closer, and his inhumanly fluid movements sent my blood racing. As he walked, shadowy magic trailing behind him, I caught the breathtaking veins of silver that shot through his feathers, gleaming in the dying sunlight.