by Anya Bast
What was she doing? She couldn’t leave; she had a financial consultation to give. Anyway, she had no reason to drop everything and fly to Protection City, Carolina. Even less reason to go to Piefferburg.
The fae? No way.
She shuddered, remembering the nightmares she’d had of them as a child. When she’d been six she’d woken night after night screaming, soaked in cold sweat. Her father had been there to reassure her that no goblins lurked under the bed, no joint-eaters peered at her from the cracked open closet door, but it had been close to her mother’s death and she’d cried for her.
Night after night she’d screamed and thrashed in her father’s arms realizing anew that her mother wasn’t there to hold her . . . and never would be again. The grief of that still lay heavy in her chest and the nightmares had forever linked the fae with it.
No, she wanted no part of the fae. They were right where they belonged and she had no wish to consort with them. She was quite happy to live all the way across the country from that place and nothing was going to force her there.
Still, the compulsion lingered. She gritted her teeth and furrowed her brow, fighting it. It eased a little, and she sagged against the door. What was wrong with her? It had to be the dream she’d had. It must’ve jarred something loose in her subconscious that she hadn’t known she needed to deal with. Find the root of the problem, address it, and she’d be able to continue with her job. She just needed a little time to sit down and think, analyze the situation. Unfortunately she wasn’t going to get that, not right now.
Feeling suddenly sick, she backed away from the door and leaned down to pick up her makeup bag. Just then Erica, one of her colleagues, came into the bathroom.
“Oh, my gosh, Charlotte, are you all right?” Erica breathed, her blue eyes wide. “You look like you’re about to vomit.”
She glanced into the mirror. Her pale face had taken on a distinctly greenish hue and she was covered in a light coating of sweat. Lovely. She blinked rapidly, searching for a response.
Charlotte, you cannot ignore me. Come to me now.
Compulsion filled her once again. The only thing that kept her from bolting for the door was her willpower. She bowed her head, closed her eyes, and grabbed the edge of the bathroom counter to stop herself from complying with the mystery man’s wishes.
“Charlotte? Should I call someone? Are you all right?”
Come now.
Charlotte forced her eyes open and returned Erica’s panicked stare. “Did you hear that?”
“Hear what?” Erica’s frown deepened and she shook her head. “You really don’t look good. You should go home, Charlotte.” She entered one of the stalls.
Go home? In the middle of the day? She’d never done that in her entire life. She touched her forehead and found it warm and feverish.
Charlotte.
Letting go of the counter and not bothering with her makeup bag, she lunged for the door and raced all the way back to her cubicle. Her watch showed it was exactly one twenty. Past time to get to the conference room. Scooping her papers into her arms, she raced across the office toward her destination.
CHARLOTTE LILLIAN BENNETT, COME TO ME.
Strong compulsion filled her. She fought it, but this time nothing stemmed the tide of must. Ten times stronger than what she’d felt in the bathroom, there was no denying this. Right outside the double doors of the conference room, she dropped all her files.
Leave. Yes, that’s exactly what she should do. Harvey could meet with the clients solo. He had all their financials and could consult with them just fine on his own. She needed to get to Piefferburg right now.
The heavy wooden doors of the conference room opened and Harvey stuck his head out, surveying the mess of paper on the floor and then looking up at her. “Charlotte?”
Alien persuasion crashed through her. Tell him you’ve received an urgent call from the Piefferburg Business Council and you must leave right away.
She bent down and gathered the files into her arms. “I just got a . . . a call. I need to leave. I’m so sorry, Harvey.” She stood and fled.
Stopping only long enough to drop the files at her desk and grab her purse, she went to her car and drove immediately to the airport. In her head shouted the refrain, What am I doing? Yet she was completely unable to stop herself from handing over her credit card to the clerk at the Transnational Airlines service desk for a seat on the next flight to Protection City.
The lady behind the counter looked up at her with a bland smile on her face. “Do you have any luggage to check?”
She glanced down at her side as if a suitcase had magically appeared there. “No.” She had nothing with her. No extra clothing, no toiletries. She’d even left her vitamins behind, drat it all. This was obviously fae magick of some kind. The prospect terrified her almost as much as it angered her. What if she’d had a critical prescription she’d needed to take? What if she’d had a pet at home? Or kids!
Fae magick. Fear made a cold sweat break out on her forehead.
The lady gave her the boarding pass and soon she’d passed through security and reached her gate. She collapsed into a chair and stared at the waiting plane, every fiber of her being straining to get on it now so she could get to Piefferburg now.
Her father would kill her if he knew what she was doing. Whether or not she was under some magickal fae mind-control, her father would skin her alive. Her family had a dark and sordid history with the fae and she’d been fed stories about their treachery since she’d been a child. Never consort with the fae, her father had warned her. Stay away from Piefferburg at all costs, he’d said. Don’t be seduced by the glittering images that Faemous feeds the public. The fae are bad. Evil.
“The only good fae is a dead fae,” had been a familiar utterance in her home.
Her opinion was far more varied than her father’s. In her mind it wasn’t so black and white as all that. The HFF, Humans for the Freedom of the Fae, had some very valid points, in her opinion, though that was an opinion she would never share with her father. Especially since her father was the head of the HCIF, Humans for the Continued Incarceration of the Fae, the HFF’s flip side. The HCIF gave scads of money to the Phaendir and helped them lobby Congress for legislation that would keep the fae right where they were.
She glowered at the airplane. She had no idea what was going on here, but once she found out, there was going to be hell to pay. Of course, mostly that was the fear talking. She knew she lacked the ability to bring hell to a fae. The weakest one was twenty times more powerful than she was.
And this man was powerful, indeed.
Her mind strayed to the dream. At the time she’d thought it had just been a vivid dream, harmless. She’d played out all her fantasies with that luscious man. Now it turned out . . .
Oh, hell. The realization slammed into her.
That had never been an innocent dream and the man she’d committed all those erotic acts with was probably real. He had to be the one holding her leash at the moment, the one who was yanking it so forcefully.
Her hand strayed to the collar of her shirt. The things she’d done in that dream . . .
A man swathed in the traditional attire of the Phaendir sat down across from her. Many of the magickal sect of druids wore ordinary clothing, dark suits, dress pants, and polo shirts. Usually you couldn’t tell a Phaendir from an ordinary man, but this one wore the heavy brown robes of a monk.
Still holding the collar of her shirt, she gave him a tentative smile, which he returned with a stern look. Almost as if to say he knew what she’d done last night.
She slid down into her chair and looked away from him.
The Phaendir were always male and mostly all big and imposing. And one could never forget the powerful magick. Magick enough to keep all the fae of the world imprisoned. They deserved everyone’s utmost respect and were not to be trifled with.
Except she was about to both disrespect and trifle with them.
How was she supposed to ge
t permission to be admitted into Piefferburg? It used to be that any human could enter at their own risk, but now that Gideon Amberdoyal had become archdirector, every human needed to be personally approved by him, their backgrounds thoroughly checked.
Lie.
She blinked several times. “Excuse me?”
The Phaendir looked at her sharply, his eyes narrowing. The action reminded her of a hawk that had just caught sight of a juicy mouse.
Don’t say anything out loud. Speak to me in your head.
Her mind whirled for a moment. She chewed her lip. Finally, she tried it. You’re real?
As real as you are.
Oh, God. You’re fae?
Pause. Do you know any human capable of long-range telepathy and dream invasion?
She went silent for a minute, processing everything and trying very hard not to freak out in front of the brother.
When you arrive in Protection City it will be very late. Stop at a store and buy a suitcase, clothes, and toiletries. Find a hotel and stay there for the night. In the morning, go to Phaendir Headquarters and ask for entry into Piefferburg.
What will I tell them?
Tell them your company is doing some work for the Piefferburg Business Council and you’re coming in at their request. They need help with their accounting system and a few other issues. Tell them you’ll be there for an extended period of time, two weeks at a minimum to complete the project.
She forced herself not to react physically to his words. Two weeks? I can’t be gone from my job for two weeks. Anyway, the Phaendir will check my story and discover I’m lying.
We’ve got you covered.
What was that supposed to mean? What’s going on? Pause. Are you going to hurt me?
There was no reply for several moments. We have no plans to harm you.
That was not exactly a comforting answer.
I hate you with all that I am. Even in her mind, her voice shook with emotion.
Silence.
TWO
BROTHER Gideon P. Amberdoyal stared across his desk at Charlotte with his watery brown eyes. Slight of build and average in height, Mr. Amberdoyal was hardly the imposing figure his position might lead someone to believe him to be. In fact, he was far slighter in physical stature than the majority of his Phaendir brethren. With his thinning hair and cheap gray suit, he reminded Charlotte more of a used car salesman than the leader of the Phaendir, one of the most powerful group of individuals in the world.
She’d met his predecessor, Brother Maddoc, at a fund-raiser the HCIF had held for the Phaendir a couple of years ago. She hadn’t wanted to attend, but her father had guilted her into it. The former archdirector had been far more physically impressive and much more charming.
She smiled politely. “It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. Amberdoyal.”
He gave her a cold smile, his flat brown eyes flashing dangerously for a moment. Her smile faded. Ah, so there was strength behind the unassuming visage. “Your father is the illustrious Jacob Arthur Bennett, head of the HCIF. I think it’s an honor to meet you, Miss Bennett. It’s always nice to encounter humans who care so much about our cause.”
“I do care.” Just not as much as my father. “My whole family is very grateful to the Phaendir. I’m not sure my father’s genetic line would have survived if the Phaendir hadn’t stepped in during the fifteen hundreds and created Piefferburg. In fact, I might not even be sitting here if you hadn’t imprisoned the fae.”
“Yes.” He templed his fingers on the top of his desk. “Your father told me the story.”
She shuddered and looked down into her lap. “Believe me when I say I’m not looking forward to spending time among them.” She hadn’t lied yet, but it was coming. The magickal persuasion lay heavily on her will as it had since yesterday.
Brother Gideon smiled his hard, dangerous little smile again and leaned toward her from behind his desk. “That’s why I find your request so odd. Why would someone with a history like yours take an assignment that put her in Piefferburg City for two whole weeks? Why didn’t you request that Yancy and Tate send someone else in your place?”
The wave of compulsion was so strong that when she opened her mouth to tell Gideon the absolute truth, no words came out, only little puffs of air.
Brother Gideon’s eyes narrowed.
“Sorry, I’m a little overwhelmed.” She blinked a few times and smiled. “I don’t like it, but it’s my job and I’m looking to be promoted. I couldn’t turn this assignment down, not at this point in my career. You can call my boss if you’re suspicious of my intentions.” She opened her purse, extracted one of her business cards, and handed it to him over the desk.
She hoped he called. Her boss would tell him the truth—he had never assigned her any such special project—and she could get out of this mess somehow. Even if it meant she went to jail or the loony bin, anything was better than Piefferburg.
He took the card, stared at it for a moment, and then set it aside. As he moved, she noticed the thick, white mottled skin peeking from his shirtsleeve cuffs. Scar tissue, it looked like. Charlotte knew that the most pious of the Phaendir selfflagellated. Apparently this man was really into it.
Licking his thin lips, he steepled his fingers on his desk and raised his gaze to hers. “I can see no possible ulterior motive for your entrance into Piefferburg, Miss Bennett. I’m satisfied after performing a very thorough background check that you have no sympathies with the HFF, especially since you’re the daughter of Jacob Bennett.”
She shook her head. “No, I don’t.”
He smiled. “Still, you must understand we need to be very careful these days. My predecessor, Brother Maddoc, allowed the fae to recover several magickal artifacts, ones that might be of use to them. It’s why we checked your luggage and purse when you arrived this morning.”
“Yes, I know. I read all about it in the paper. There’s a possibility the fae could break your warding and run loose.” A shiver went up her spine at the thought.
She wasn’t alone in her fear. After the news had broken there had been a run on survival supplies and weapons that could be used against the fae. Things like goblin repellant, red cap deterrent, and big guns that stopped just about anything with a pulse. Her father even kept a charmed iron sword in his library for such an event, a weapon that had cost him over fifty thousand dollars. The media had, of course, shamelessly hyped the hysteria.
Brother Gideon’s face went hard. “No, Miss Bennett, there’s no possibility that such a thing might occur. Not on my watch.”
She nodded. “I believe you.”
“But in order to keep it from happening, we need to analyze every entrant into Piefferburg. My predecessor’s methods were too lax and people got in who shouldn’t have. Our processes are not meant to offend.”
“I’m not at all offended.” Part of one of her nightmares flashed into her head—the bloody open mouth of a red cap. “I’m happy to see such strong controls in place.”
He smiled at her and picked up the business card. “I’m glad you understand.” Then he reached for the phone.
Oh, thank God. He was going to call.
Say this, “As Labrai wills, so shall it be.”
Charlotte jerked at the abrupt intrusion of her puppet master’s creepy psychic link. His words were accompanied by coercion so strong that the phrase tumbled from her lips before she could even think about uttering it. Smiling serenely, she said, “As Labrai wills, so shall it be.”
Brother Gideon paused with the phone halfway to his ear. She could hear it ringing on the other end. Her office was in Oregon, three hours behind Protection City, and had just opened. Brother Gideon almost set the receiver back into the cradle. Instead, he lifted it all the way to his ear.
Ha! Take that, puppet master. She received no reply. The magick man was probably shaking in his boots right now.
She smiled smugly as Brother Gideon connected with one of her superiors and attempted to verify her story. Any momen
t now and the jig would be up. Brother Gideon would—
He hung up the phone and gave her a wide smile. “Everything checks out. I hope your project in Piefferburg City is successful, Miss Bennett.”
Her smile faltered.
Still under the magickal mojo, she stood smoothly and offered her hand across the desk. “Thank you very much, Mr. Amberdoyal. It truly was a pleasure to meet you.”
He stood and shook her hand. “I’ll walk you to the gates. Shall I order a car to meet you once you’re inside? You’re not dressed for a hike through the Boundary Lands and I don’t advise it. It’s very dangerous.”
“Yes, a car to Piefferburg Square would be lovely.”
They made their way out of the office, headed toward the exit. Her hands were shaking as she picked up her suitcase, packed with clothes and other items she’d bought as soon as she’d reached Protection City, and followed him. In a mere matter of minutes she would be in the one place on earth she’d never wanted to go.
“I understand you’re going to the Piefferburg Mercantile Exchange, among other locales,” Brother Gideon said mildly as he led her to the gates.
“Yes. They’re having trouble with their accounting system and need me to consult.”
“Yours is not the first human company to be doing business in Piefferburg City, of course. Piefferburg has done well in creating an economy.” Brother Gideon’s teeth barely kept from gnashing. “And the government allows them to do it. They’ve even gone so far as to allow the Piefferburg Business Council to make phone calls into the human world to arrange for people such as yourself to enter. Of course we closely monitor their communication.”
“Of course. Business is business, I guess.”
“Indeed.”
Gravel crunched under her shoes and the wheels of her suitcase as they walked in silence for a moment. Outwardly she appeared calm. Inwardly, she seethed. As soon as she met this man pulling her strings like she was some marionette, she was going to let him have it. Now she understood that expression about blood boiling with rage.
When they reached the huge gates, they were already opening. The hinges made a low moaning sound, a little like what she imagined the gates of hell might sound like. Her stomach churned.