by Holly Evans
The air practically exploded with electricity when I stepped through the archway into the final area. Fae are almost painfully beautiful, or at least they appear that way. Some of them use glamour, others have merely stolen beautiful bodies. They’re all predators. They use that beauty to hook and draw in their prey. They’re twisted, malicious creatures with long lives and longer memories. Three of them sat huddled around a dark wood table, barely big enough for the stools the fae sat on. I smiled sweetly at them and hoped they were in a good mood. I usually let Quin speak to the fae; he had a silver tongue that would make even them proud.
The fae in question were Sidhe, although they were quick to remind people that they were in fact Aos Si; the Sidhe were the mounds they used to live under. I didn’t give a shit what they felt they should be called; they were fae. Haeyl, the second in command, turned slowly and fixed me with an intense look that didn’t match the innocent smile plastered across his pretty face.
“And what brings one half of the Hawke twins here this fine evening?”
I tried to relax. There didn’t need to be a fight.
“I’m looking for Quin. He seems to have disappeared.”
Haeyl’s bright golden-green eyes widened to match his broad grin.
He glanced over at Azfin before he said, “Is that so?”
I ground my teeth together. I hated their games. Azfin’s deep brown eyes didn’t quite match his pale blond hair, but I had no doubt that most women never saw past the tightly toned body that threatened to burst out of his tight T-shirt. I forced myself to smile once more.
“He was dealing with a rogue lycan, but he never returned home.”
They all stood as one unit. I didn’t like where it was going.
CHAPTER FOUR
Foul breath filled my nostrils before I saw a filthy yellowed nail approach me from the corner of my eye. A sharp pain trickled down my neck before I caught sight of the owner, a red cap. The most vile beast of all. His unnaturally long tongue extended and curled around his nail to savour the drop of blood that sat there. I fought down my gag reflex. The Sidhe cackled; I refused to take a step back. I would not be intimidated.
Azfin said, “Miss Hawke here has lost her other half. Dear Quin has been lost without trace. Would you know anything about this, Red?”
All redcaps were referred to as Red. They weren’t the brightest sparks, perhaps they were too dim to understand the concept of a name. Red’s bloodstained lips spread into a malicious smile; his rancid breath clouded in front of me. I held back the cough. His dirt-brown eyes never left mine. I swore I could almost feel the grease on his skin and in his hair from the few feet away that I stood. A shiver of revulsion ran through me.
Red blinked and seemed to process Azfin’s words. “I may have heard a little somethin’.”
It was not going as well as I had hoped. I slipped my fingers down to the iron-filing-filled pouch and unhooked the clasp. The three Sidhe approached me slowly, in much the same way a trio of lionesses stalk up to a gazelle. I was in no mood to be a gazelle.
The Sidhe whose name I never learnt, with the sharp nose and green hair, said, “It’s about time that Hawke learnt her place in this city. She and her brother have had run of it for too long.”
Haeyl said, “Things are changing. You’re no longer required in the grand scheme of things.”
Red’s hand slipped over my stomach under my jacket before his claws went straight through my shirt into my ribs. I pinched some iron filings from the pouch and ground them into his eyes before slamming the heel of my hand into his large, crooked nose. He screamed and stepped back, giving the Sidhe free access. They were vicious and animalistic, somehow more so than the lycans. They tried to push me into a corner as they circled around me, keeping a close eye on the iron filings. The redcap was recovering, and I needed to get out of there while I could.
They glanced at each other, no doubt plotting their next move. I took advantage of the split-second pause and pushed forward. I slashed through Azfin’s barely there shirt; he snarled as the blade bit into his skin. The cut wasn’t deep, but it was enough to coat the dagger in blood. I dipped it in the iron filings and they all took a step back.
The nameless Sidhe put his hands up and said, “Now… there’s no need for all that.”
I saw Red step up just behind me. I twisted and hacked at his throat with the iron-filing-covered dagger. He howled and clutched at himself before he leaned back against the wall. I dipped it back into the iron filings and looked back at the Sidhe. Azfin snarled at me, but remained still.
After what felt like an agonisingly long standoff, Haeyl said, “Things are changing, bitch. Now get out of here before the rest of our brothers arrive.”
As much as I wanted to silence his pretty mouth for once and for all, I had the good sense to leave the bar. Quickly. I cursed as my ribs ached, and I tried to remember the route out. It was easy to get lost in the varying rooms and short staircases. I finally made it up into the top bar with my jacket clutched about me and a wan smile on my face. They looked like humans; they likely had no idea what went on beneath them.
Fortunately, the brunt of the rush and crush to get home had passed. I stood clutching onto my ribs, trying to stem the bleeding while waiting for another tram. There were lots of empty seats when it showed up. Unfortunately, the locals have a habit of guarding empty seats like they’re their last meal. I glared at an older woman in a garish yellow scarf and grey ankle-length skirt as she clutched onto the back of the seat and stood over the empty space.
She gave me a filthy look, but relented when I growled, “Pardon,” and looked down at the seat.
I half-expected her to sit in it herself. Instead, she chose to stand over me. I sat tall and ignored her as I was once more watching the city go by.
The pain ate at me. Although, it was more the shame that I’d gotten the injury in the first place. The image of those cracked yellow nails, with the layers of dirt under them and covering the grey-brown finger, sinking into my skin made me want to retch. I wondered how safe it was to scrub myself with bleach for an hour, or possibly two. I didn’t know if I’d ever feel clean again.
The iron gate creaked and stuck at halfway open when I got home. I sighed, lifted it a little, and carried on up the scruffy path that led to the front door of the building. It was unassuming, and more importantly, home. I gave a weak smile to the gentleman who lived on the bottom floor as he emerged with his scruffy little terrier before I slipped into the lift. I leaned back against the cool metal bar as it groaned and squeaked before it finally went up.
The temptation to kick the door when it refused to open the first time was almost too much to bear. I took a deep breath and wiggled the key. It opened without any trouble, as though mocking me. I locked all four locks on the door and threw the keys down on the kitchen counter before I went looking for Quin’s medical kit. For once, I was glad he insisted on hanging around with hedgewitches and alchemists.
CHAPTER FIVE
I rifled through the large wooden box full of varying powders, liquids, and other substances trying to find something that would clean and help the increasingly painful wound on my side. I’d peeled off my shirt, but refused to look in the mirror. I lifted up two glass bottles with green crosses on them; that was a standard healing symbol. I hoped. One had a violent pink powder in it, the other was full of blue sparkly liquid that shimmered in the light. Once again, I missed Quin; he’d have been able to clean up the wound and have me back out into the city in no time. I hadn’t realised how much I needed him until he vanished. I’d kick his ass when he returned.
I poured some of the liquid into a small porcelain bowl and added a dash of the powder, stirred vigorously, and hoped for the best. The faint hissing wasn’t particularly encouraging, but it smelt of plum and cherry blossom, so I focused on that aspect. I closed my eyes, stuck a couple of fingers into the paste, and spread it onto the wounds. My eyes flew open and my hand bolted to my mouth as I held ba
ck an almighty scream. The pain was excruciating.
I jumped into the shower and turned on the water. It was of course icy cold, quickly bringing me to shiver while my breath caught in my throat. It went scalding hot before it settled into a reasonably bearable temperature. The paste clung to my skin and changed from lilac to navy blue as the water hit it. The pain faded into an intense burning. After much scrubbing with both my and Quin’s shower gels, I accepted defeat. I was stuck with four dirty holes and a smear of blue paste on my ribs. I didn’t know if it looked better or worse than the ugly purple bruises on the other side of my ribs from the lycan.
Tears threatened to join the water in cascading down my face, but I held strong. Crying wasn’t going to help me get Quin back. I needed a plan. I needed information. I peeled my jeans off. I hadn’t removed them in my mad dash for the shower. The pain in the wounds settled into an itchy burning sensation that burrowed its way into my ribs. I hoped that it wouldn’t go any deeper.
Once I was in fresh, dry clothing, I paced around the flat once more. I needed information. The fae had been useless; I’d hoped they’d give me at least something. If the redcap hadn’t have shown up, I may have gotten more than worthless threats and vague concepts. The city was always changing; such was the nature of things. Still, their words hung in the back of my mind.
The sun had set, the moon was rising, and I felt lost. I slumped down on the sofa and scrolled through my phone, wondering whom I could badger into giving me some information. Quin would have known whom to call and how to sweet-talk them. I threw my phone down onto the sofa and lay back with a groan. Wishing that Quin was there wasn’t getting me anywhere. I was beginning to feel weak as I realised just how much I needed him. He was my twin.
I needed to go to the site where the rogue and Quin had vanished. The lycans had lost their scent, but that didn’t mean they hadn’t missed something. Maybe Quin had left a clue, or whoever took them had left an identifying marker behind. Lycans weren’t known for their higher-level thinking; they could have missed a note stuck in a tree under a small neon sign saying ‘clue here’. I glanced out the window over the city. The moon was haloed by light clouds, although I could see the dark mass on the horizon. A storm was coming in. I had no doubt that it wasn’t the only one.
My stomach started growling. I realised I hadn’t eaten more than a pastry and had been in two fights. I couldn’t help but smile; Quin would have laughed at me in my bedraggled and pissed-off state. I set about making some food; it was going to be a long day. I needed my strength, and my sleep.
I woke up just before dawn. I’d told myself that I wouldn’t see much of anything in the dark; the truth was, I was exhausted and lost. I needed to calm my mind and pull myself together. The panic and fear over Quin was threatening to overwhelm me. The storm hadn’t come to much; it had built into a great wall of dark cloud and then dissipated. The feeling that it represented something clung to the back of my mind; I bit viciously into my pastry and told myself to stop being so stupid. Quin had been gone for a day, and I was unravelling. It was pathetic.
I pulled up a mental map of the city in my mind as I rummaged around the kitchen looking for more food; I couldn’t afford to be weak and hungry. A glance at the clock told me that the metro would be open again; a screech of tyres cut through my thoughts. As much as I hated public transport, it was still better than trying to drive around the city. The drivers were aggressive, verging on reckless, not that the pedestrians were much better half of the time. It was an antagonistic system.
Quin’s little alchemical box of miracles caught my eye. I still had some iron filings left. I wanted some of his energy-dispersing powder, but I didn’t know which that was or if he even had any left. I shoved the box in a cupboard out of sight. It wasn’t going to do me any good. I almost dropped the pouch of iron filings in my bad mood as I pulled on my belt. With a sigh, I carefully slipped my knives into their sheathes. I tucked my throwing knives away, just in case. My leather jacket gave me some protection and kept things out of sight; blades may be legal in the city but that didn’t mean I wanted to draw too much attention.
CHAPTER SIX
I leaned back against the square pillar and gazed absent-mindedly at the far side of the tracks with the inverted blue bubbles. It looked like I was inside a dalek; I didn’t know who had designed the metro station, but it was certainly memorable. People milled around me, and I couldn’t help but wonder why there were so many people down there; the businesses didn’t open for another three hours, yet they were all in office clothing. Or as close to it as Prague ever got.
Silent battles for seats occurred as everyone pushed into the train; I stood back and held onto the vertical bar in the middle of the carriage. I was only going a couple of stops. I saw no reason to incur the wrath of a local who felt that they were more deserving. Quin’s face flashed into my mind, with his broad smile and sparkling eyes. He always found amusement at my foul moods, moods that were increasingly dark in his absence. I made a note to myself to try and relax a little more when he returned. I did it for us; I needed to protect us. I had to keep him safe. He told me he understood, but I wasn’t convinced.
I pushed through the people to get out into the station. They milled around me, their minds somewhere else entirely. I took a deep breath and slipped around them when they cut me off or stopped dead in their tracks, absorbed in their phones. Quin saw it as a game, a dance of sorts. I found myself almost smiling as I successfully navigated my way to the escalator without bumping into someone. He had a bright way of looking at things; I envied him that.
The pale morning light made me flinch as I stepped out into the small courtyard; the hotdog vendor was already there, ready for the tourists. I held back a yelp as someone elbowed my injured ribs; I gave them a dark look, not that they noticed. The walk up to the castle was reasonably peaceful, once I got away from the people. I maintained my little ritual of refusing to look back until I got to the very top of the hill, where I could pause for a moment and take in the breathtaking views. The city stretched out before me. The sky still carried the blush of pink that reflected over the red roofs. The river glittered and wove its way through the city. There was something about the collection of bridges that always caught my eye, lined up like a series of stitches pulling the city together. A sense of peace filled me.
The castle complex was empty apart from the soldiers in their ceremonial wear; they couldn’t keep the boredom from their faces, not that I blamed them. I wasted no time in admiring the gargoyles or the intricate architecture. I headed straight through to the gardens and around the back of the stables. The road was quiet; despite the rush on the metro, the traffic hadn’t begun yet. I glanced around, checking that I was alone before I started walking across the grass searching for some sign of Quin.
After some twenty minutes of searching, I’d found nothing. It had been stupid; I’d hoped to find a note or something, anything, to let me know where he was and that he was ok. Wasn’t that how it went in those movies? The brave and intrepid kidnappee would leave an ingenious clue for his saviours. I wasn’t feeling like much of a saviour. Something glinted in the light. I ran over to it, hope blooming once more. A small pile of indigo powder sparkled and glittered in the sunlight. It smelt of honeysuckle and coffee, Quin’s special little mix to use against all things magical.
I cursed him out for vanishing on me. Why couldn’t he leave me something more? I told myself that it meant he was in once piece; it was a neat and tidy little pile. A rustling from the bushes pressed against the castle stable walls drew my attention. My hand moved to the blade on my hip, and I groaned as my ribs complained at the sudden move. I stood slowly while I watched the bushes intently.
Something, or someone, burst out from the evergreen foliage and ran at me. I drew my blades and grounded my weight, preparing for the large man that ran at me. His face was bruised; black and purple patches sat around his left eye. Blood stained his lips, and dried blood formed neat lines
down his chin. A flutter of fear formed in my chest. I hadn’t seen anything like him before. His eyes were wild.
As he got closer, I saw that his navy blue crewneck was stained with blood. His arms were splattered with mud, green paste, and more blood. The haunted, glassy golden eyes never left mine. I didn’t think he blinked; he was entirely focused. Even the rogue lycans didn’t focus as absolutely as he was. He was almost on me when he raised his hands. Dark brown claws emerged from his torn fingertips. No creature could do that. I side-stepped at the last second and slashed his ribs. He yowled and spun to face me before I could do anything more. He bared his pointed yellowed teeth at me; his golden eyes never left mine. He looked like a broken lycan, the feral predatory need, the teeth, but he was too human. I found myself frozen under that gaze, paralysed by fear of the unknown. Suddenly, his face contorted in fear. His eyes became chocolate brown, tears flooded down his face. His body relaxed before he groaned and took off across the road. I ran after him. I couldn’t allow a creature like that loose in the city.
Tyres screeched as someone hit their brakes; I ignored them. My ribs groaned and ached as I pushed myself to catch him. His longer legs meant he was getting away from me. He vanished into the dense woods. The branches bit into my arms as I desperately tried to keep him in my line of sight. He was gone. I couldn’t hear his footsteps or see any sign of him through the dense foliage and thick tree trunks. I had no idea what he was or where he came from. With a heavy sigh I stopped in the middle of the woods, my heart pounding.
Logic overruled any emotion. I pulled a small vial out of my pocket; Quin insisted that I carry them at all times. I managed to coax a few drops of the thing’s blood down into the vial. An alchemist would be able to give me some answers.