What the actual fuck? Wiping the blood from my face, I did my very best to scrape together my last dregs of diplomacy. “I appreciate the sanctity of your lunch break and good salads, but if any of you get that sword anywhere near my mate again, I’ll skip your arm and bite off your whole fucking head.”
“You want us to put down our swords? Then you two need to clasp your hands over your heads. If you so much as go to scratch your chin, we’ll have our swords on you again.”
Of course his words made my chin immediately itch, but I ignored the sensation and lifted my hands over my head, lacing my fingers together. Beside me, Aaron did the same.
The three fae made way for us, and for the first time, I took in my surroundings. The roots of a big redwood tree stuck out of the ground, forming stairs down to a doorway cut directly into the redwood’s bark.
The forest was dense, but many feet had worn down the undergrowth between trees. When the door closed behind us, I could breathe again. The air smelled like moss, bark, scat, and dust, and after the room we’d just left, it was the sweetest aroma in the world.
We were marched through the forest, flanked by the three bloody and injured fae, who were still lamenting the decline of their fucking salads.
“You know,” Aaron said, turning partially toward the fae whose arm I’d torn up. “If you take a paper towel, wet it, wring out the moisture and then drape it over your salad, it’ll keep it fresh and crisp.”
“You don’t say?” The fae furrowed his brow and leaned back a little to regard Aaron. “What type of paper towel do you use, Avery Tree?”
“Never used that one, but I’m pretty sure any brand would work.” Aaron sounded as casual as if we were all meeting for lunch, instead of them leading us to their queen at sword point. As the four of them launched into a conversation about the best storage methods for foodie crap I’d never tasted in my frozen-meal-and-fast-food life, I scanned our surroundings, trying to figure out what our best escape route would be.
According to the treaty that I’d been reading on and off since I took over my role as alpha, fae from the Spring Court couldn’t own conjoined plots of land cumulatively larger than one square mile. Clearly, this forest was Queen Titania’s way of circumventing that provision.
All around us stood thick redwoods, each with decorative doors leading into their bark. If each was a portal to a mansion or plot of land, like the portal we just fell through, the area of land conjoined to this forest was huge. Some trunks had dozens of entries, big and small, leading up the length of the tree with a system of ladders from one to the next.
“Hey guys,” Aaron said, his voice sounding jovial. “If the queen doesn’t know we’re here yet, maybe we can work something out that will benefit all of us.”
“Wrong suggestion,” Bloody Arm said. The fae all lifted their silver blades, pointing at us as they lead us into a clearing with the biggest redwood I’d ever seen at the center of it. That sucker had to be fifty feet across and hundreds tall. A door that looked an awful lot like something stolen off the set of The Lord of the Rings cut into the redwood bark. The doors slid open and... Oh, fuck.
Queen Titania stood centrally in the doorway, flanked by her four bound guardians.
My wolf howled for us to run, but I couldn’t let her out now.
The queen lifted her chin and grinned. “Thank you, Scarlet Riley. I thought I was going to have to choose, but now I can have everything I desire. All because of you.” She lifted her arms, making her sheer gauzy dress flow around her body. “Tonight, we will hunt these two werewolves who broke the treaty and trespassed on fae lands. The hunt will be held here, a quick display of skill. After these two are dead, the true hunt for vengeance begins.”
All around us the trees rustled, and voices chittered, but I couldn’t take my focus from the queen.
“Why soak everything in salt water?” I demanded. “Why hide all the evidence? You’re framing us for the murders, and the only reason you’re going to kill us is so I can’t prove that you’re the one who killed your own people.”
The idea that Titania was framing us was just an unsubstantiated theory, but I knew that this might be my only chance to plant doubt into her followers’ minds.
The queen didn’t so much as flinch at the accusation. She stepped down from the tree, her hips swinging side to side as she closed the distance.
The fae around us raised their silver swords, pointing them at our necks as the queen stopped before us. “Why would I kill my own people and frame your packmate, Alpha?”
“You want Heartland,” I said.
“Hmm.” She tapped her chin. “If I was doing all this to frame you and take Heartland, my guards and I would be dying. Do we look ill?”
I had to admit they didn’t.
“Your werewolf is guilty, and I would rather you die than be with my son. You voluntarily trespassed on my very limited area of land. Therefore, you are subject to the laws of the fae.” She shrugged. “That’s as far as this goes.”
An image of a small red wolf lunging for the Queen's pale neck filled my mind, but I clenched my fist and shoved back my wolf as she struggled for control. The human side of me knew I couldn’t get past seven fae warriors to the queen, but my wolf side was all for it. “If you have nothing to hide in this investigation, then why are you getting rid of all the evidence? Tampering with evidence means you have something to hide.”
“My flourishing health irrefutably proves my innocence in any move of ambition. You are not going to be able to convince a single fae here otherwise.” With an imperious smile, she waved her hand through the air. “Take these prisoners to a room and guard them with thirty soldiers. And someone, bring me my son.”
Chapter Thirteen
Darrel
Fuck. This. Shit.
Sitting in the Magical Permitting Office waiting room, I attempted to keep my teeth from grinding as a high-pitched voice sang out, “Girls at school called me trampy, Veni Vidi Vici Vampy.” That was the fourth time this asinine song had cycled through their playlist. Fourth. Fucking. Time.
I was about ready to kill someone.
My glower turned menacing as I peered up at the speaker in the corner of the room, and a low growl escaped from my throat. A man across from me jumped to his feet, grabbed his briefcase and rushed away. Smart man.
Before today I had never heard the song in my life. After sitting in this waiting room since nine this morning, I knew the damn words by heart. The licensing office in Eureka was a small boxy room, the wallpaper a drab gray, the office chairs about as comfortable as sitting with a spike up your ass for hours on end. There was a long queue to register your paperwork, a long queue lining up to get a number, and then an even longer queue waiting to get an ass-killing chair.
When Lance had suggested that I take this side quest this morning, I knew it was a fucking mistake. But I also knew that ever since that bitch queen threatened my mate, all I’d been thinking about was wringing her neck. Scarlet had her own way of dealing with the fae, and if I went to the crime scene, I’d just fuck up all her diplomacy methods and undermine her alphahood. So, when Lance had suggested I head over to the witch council, I’d reluctantly agreed.
"Number eight-hundred-thirty-nine." The mechanical sounding words came over the loudspeaker. “Number eight-hundred-thirty-nine at window two.”
Shoving my hand into my pocket, I pulled out the slip of paper with my number. Eight-hundred-thirty-nine. I attempted to navigate between the rows of chairs and people clogging the way. A troll with three-foot horns had managed to pass out in her torture chair, and I was attempting to gently wake her when the voice came over the loudspeaker again.
"Final call for number eight-hundred-thirty-nine.”
“Don’t you dare!” I roared across the waiting room. The man sitting in cubical two leaned out, his mouth falling open like a fish. He looked me over once, taking in my scars, beard, leather jacket, old jeans, and motorcycle boots, and then he quickly duck
ed into his booth. I was used to that. Most humans took one look at me and crossed to the other side of the street. Yelling at the man had the added benefit of the troll startling and rearing her horns up while everyone else in the room cleared out of my way.
As calmly as I could, I walked to the cubicle, pulled out a metal chair, and settled across from the pale, wide-eyed wizard. The man pushed up his glasses, cleared his throat, and said, “Welcome to the MPO. Are you applying for magic licensing for your home, vehicle, or… ahem, body?”
“None of that.” I pushed a piece of paper across the desk at the balding, middle-aged human. “This thing attacked the alpha of the Six Rivers pack last night, and I want to know what it is.” I looked at the man’s nametag and added, “Mr. Higgins.”
Mr. Higgins cleared his throat but didn’t reach for the paper.
“Look, sir, this is the Magical Permitting Office.” His voice grew breathier by the second. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave. Immediately.”
I slid the paper further across his desk. “The creature was about eight feet tall. Smelled like death. It had a broad chest and thick muscles under whitish gray skin. It didn’t have eyes or a nose, just slits for nostrils, but it had a huge tongue and…” I stopped myself from saying the word cock and tapped the paper instead. “When I killed it, it exploded into acid.”
The man opened his mouth, looking like he was going to say something, but he snapped his jaw shut as his gaze dipped to the page where I’d drawn the creature in detail from every angle. He took in a shuddering breath.
“Yeah, I was pretty sure this was your problem,” I said with a curt nod. “And no, this isn’t just a magical permitting building. It’s the Mage Union of Northern California, Local eight-thirty-six, making this first-floor just a tiny fraction of what you witches and wizards do through this building, even though the only area you’ve reported for use is this magical licensing office. I might be a dumb werewolf biker, but I do know that a creature walking around with no eyes that reeks of decomposition is undead, meaning it came from one of you fuckers.”
I leaned back in my uncomfortable-as-fuck metal chair and gave the office worker my most menacing glare, the type of glare that had made rival pack alphas show me their throats. “So, tell me this. Why is the Mage Union concealing their presence from the new werewolf alpha and sending undead creatures to attack her? And why the fuck did I have to wait four hours in an assembly line from hell to ask you that?”
Mr. Higgins gulped, tugging on his collar like it was choking him. He muttered, “I’m going to call office security. We wouldn’t do that. This is just a licensing building. That’s all. There are no registered necromancers in the area.”
The phone at the man’s desk rang out a shrill note. When the man looked down at the lit phone screen, his face paled even more. His hands shook as he reached for the phone and put it to his ear. “Hello?” His voice sounded like he just chain-smoked three packs of cigarettes. “This is Harry Higgins.”
I knew I should feel guilty for making the office worker nearly shit himself, but I couldn’t muster any emotion right now. These assholes had moved onto established pack land right after my father died, and according to the tax records Lance had dug up last night, they were spending a lot more money than would be justified on a licensing office. I came in here claiming to be from the alpha of the area, and they sidelined me like I was just some human who wanted a magical upgrade on my car.
The man pursed his lips and nodded at the phone before pushing away from his desk and standing. “If you’ll follow me, sir.”
Now I was a “sir.” Interesting.
Harry Higgins was a head and shoulders shorter than me, and when I stood, he seemed to shrink even more.
Sighing, I blew out a breath. “Thank you for your help.” It was a grudging appreciation, but this guy was just a gear in a big machine. That machine might be plotting to kill my mate, but this cog probably had nothing to do with that. “I apologize if I made you uncomfortable at your place of employment.”
The man didn’t even look over at me. He just led me through the office building and out the back. He opened a big metal door out toward the alley, and I was about to tell the bald human that he better not be showing me out when a man stepped in front of the door. This man looked like a lumberjack in flannel with a large beard Santa Claus would envy. He was tall and barrel-chested but looked like he was more muscle than fat. He wore heavy work boots that had clearly been used for hard labor.
“You here to help me or to throw me out?” I asked as I stood in the doorway.
“Help you.” The Lumberjack grinned, showing two prominent dimples. “And hoping that’ll get you to leave.”
“Fair enough.”
The Lumberjack leaned over. “How ya doing there, Higgins? You want to take your break now?”
“I’m fine, sir,” Harry said.
As soon as I stepped outside, he slammed the door behind me. I couldn’t help but notice that the door had no handle from the outside.
The big guy held out a hand. “Name’s Rick. I’m the Mage Union Rep under the California Witch and Wizard Assembly, Local eight-thirty-six. Which pack are you here for, Six Rivers or the pack you’re an alpha of?”
Shaking his hand, I cocked an eyebrow. “Do you want me to be impressed, Rick? You had four hours to figure that out after I registered my name.”
If it was possible, the wizard’s smile only broadened. “How about this?” His hand slashed through the air, and the drawing I held duplicated, the second copy appearing in his pinched fingers. He gave an exaggerated wink. “Everyone is impressed with the magic copy-machine trick.”
The happy expression on his face dimmed as his gaze fell on the paper.
“You know what that is.” I said it as a fact because it was clear that he did.
He hummed, and the paper vanished from his hand. “Let’s take a walk.” He gestured out toward the Eureka neighborhood. “I’ve got something I want to show you.”
The decade of storms had hit this neighborhood more than most. Half of the houses were little more than rubble. A few industrial buildings like the one we’d just exited had been rebuilt, but even the standing residences in the area might be considered unfit by squatters. Lumberjack Rick didn’t say a word until we were two buildings down, and then what he said shocked the fuck out of me.
“You’re not going to like this. Unfortunately, it looks like you’ve got an incubus on your hands.”
“What the fuck?” I said, spinning toward the man so fast I almost lost my balance for the first time in my life. “A fucking what?”
“A lower level sex demon.” Rick sighed and rubbed his beard. “And you said this was last night?”
“Yes. Why?”
“A necromancer didn’t show up to work this morning, and when we sent someone by their house… Let me just say they could have been dabbling in demonology. Union members aren’t supposed to take side-jobs or under the table work, but if it’s not harming anyone, we look the other way. Witches and wizards need to feed their families.”
“By raising fucking demons to go after my mate?” Fangs elongated from my mouth and claws sharpened from my fingers.
Rick held up his hands, but his expression didn’t change. “The Union would never approve of a job like that. We might fly under the radar from the pack here, but that’s because of the old alpha Jacob Knight—presumably your relation?”
My jaw clenched.
Rick cleared his throat and nodded. “That’s what I thought. Well, he demanded steep kickbacks for every single job we took in the area. Witches and wizards in this locality were working sixty-hour weeks reinforcing buildings and roads and barely able to pay their medical bills. This city would fall apart without us working tirelessly to keep it together. The new alpha hasn’t contacted us yet, but we’re assuming he or she will, and when this alpha does, we’ll figure what kind of percentages—”
“The alpha of Six Rivers wants you
to stop summoning demons to roam around her city. She couldn’t give a fuck about your kickbacks,” I growled through my fangs. “She works a sixty-hour week herself cleaning fucking drains and fixing pipes to support her pack and won’t take assistance even when it’s shoved in her direction. That’s the alpha your necromancer tried to kill, and trust me, if the NALC sends in someone to replace her—which they would love to do—they’ll be the same brand of asshole my brother was.”
Surprise sparked in the wizard’s eyes, but he still didn’t look scared that I was a hair-breadths away from shifting. Nodding slowly, he sighed. “The Mage Union doesn’t take demon jobs in any of our California locations. It’s a blanket policy. We don’t have training or any kind of licensing for it. What I can do for you is this. Our office will make finding our necromancer first priority—”
I lowered my head and growled, “Give me their name.”
He sighed and rubbed his beard. “No can do. But I can do one thing for you.” He headed for a building that was little more than rubble. When I stalked after him, he turned and lifted a hand. A card appeared between his thumb and forefinger. “The best demon hunter north of Mexico just happens to live in Blue Lake. She’s non-union, so I could lose my job for giving you this. Please do me the favor of not mentioning this to anyone.”
I didn’t take the card. “The demon is dead. It exploded into acid after I clawed its throat.”
Rick shook his head. “Sorry, man, but no. That incubus took the equivalent of a demon dump on your chest. He’s not dead.”
I rounded on him, my claws extending. “What?”
Rick shrugged. “Demons are not that easy to kill. He was summoned here for a purpose, and his summoner is forcing the demon to fulfill that purpose.”
“What purpose?” I asked, wanting to clench my fists but unable with my claws extended. This asshole was testing my patience with his drawn-out explanations. Lance was the man for this job. I preferred people who got straight to the point.
Filthy Fae: A Dirty Alphas Novel (Heartland Forest Book 2) Page 10