by Cate Corvin
“Over here, Miss Appletree.”
I adjusted my glare accordingly. “None of that, sir. You hired me, now you’re stuck with me. I’ll do the nymphing around here, thank you very much.”
“And you do it very well.” He opened the door and got in. “Besides, a few more of these glamour medallions might’ve actually broken my bank.”
I followed suit, and Robin appeared, holding the silver medallion in his hand.
He took a second medallion out of another of his many suit pockets; this one was smaller, made of clay formed around a ring of onyx.
“It’s dirt.” I glanced at it with incredulity.
“Not just any dirt. It’s the dirt a demi-goddess of illusion was sacrificed on. Very expensive.”
Robin pushed Calder’s hair into the clay, smoothing it into the packed mud so it would stay in place. “That should work. Are you ready, Miss Appletree?”
He looked up at me, eyes piercing.
“I’m ready.” I gripped my own thighs, squeezing them as I thought of all the ways this could go wrong.
“If we’re fortunate, we find the proof we need tonight.” Robin started the car, still watching me. “It could be dangerous. I don’t expect you to follow me.”
I set my jaw. “Try me, boss.”
As he pulled away from the curb, a little smile curved his lips.
“What are you smiling about?” I asked suspiciously.
Robin glanced at me briefly, still smiling. “You. I haven’t had a Fae so eager to be an agent in… well, many years. We’ll just say that.”
“You know me well enough by now. I like to live an exciting life.” I shrugged one shoulder. “Finding body parts, getting blackmailed, tripping over murder victims, taking up with the Wild Hunt… all in a day’s work.”
Robin’s smile faded as quickly as it’d appeared. Fuck. Of course I had to go and mention the Wild Hunt right when we were starting to feel normal again.
Even so, there was a giddy butterfly in my stomach that kept screeching over his obvious jealousy of Gwyn.
Shut up, butterfly. I want to date him, not make him jealous.
He parked near Myrage and fastened the clay amulet around his neck. A second later, I was looking at a perfect approximation of Calder, down to his red barbed-wire tattoo and leather jacket.
I made a face at him. “Thank the trees I don’t have to look at that all the time.”
Robin-Calder made a face back and waggled his tail. “What about me? I’m the one who has to wear it.”
He had Calder’s rough Undercity accent down to a T. It was a little eerie, to be honest. “Does the voice come with the glamour?”
In a perfect, rolling Elvish accent, Robin said through Calder’s mouth, “No. I just studied until I thought my ears would bleed.”
I stared at him. “This is too weird. It doesn’t even look natural coming out of his mouth.”
Robin smiled. “That’s because it’s not.”
I opened the car door and stepped out into… ice. Sobek Street had been warm, but the little alley in front of me was so cold my breath puffed out in a cloud.
I held back a groan. “Jack.”
22
As soon as I said his name, it was like I could see him.
He smirked at me, hands in his pockets, leaning against the alley wall. “Hello, Briallen. You look awfully wet today.”
I tugged on my pearl neckline, scowling at him. “Comes with the territory. Like you’ve never dressed up as anything weird.”
Jack tilted his head, his white hair falling in one pale eye. “I once had to spend an entire week wearing the glamour of a sluagh,” he informed me. “It was much less pleasant than pretending to be a girl.”
I slammed the door behind me and caught him looking at my green legs. “Don’t tell me you have a nereid fetish, too?”
What was it about Jack Frost that made me so damn prickly? I wish I could’ve said it was his pristine white suit, or the knowing look in his eyes when he watched me, or even the obvious rivalry between him and the boss I was loyal to.
But it wasn’t. It was that he’d seen an outcast the moment he laid eyes on me, and instead of rubbing it in, he’d offered an alternative explanation. The kind of explanation a younger, hurt, and lonely Briallen might’ve wanted to hear.
Different, but not defective.
“They’re too cold and damp for me,” he said pleasantly.
Robin clip-clopped around the car, speaking in the Undercity accent again. “What are you doing here, Frost?”
“I’m not here to interfere, if that’s what you’re implying.” Jack’s smirk widened. “I just want the pleasure of watching you take down Titania’s pathetic frat-boy of a son. The whole world will be talking about it soon enough.”
Robin just stared at him with the sort of cool intensity that had probably never been seen on Calder’s face before. “As always…”
“Stay out of your way. Yes, yes, I know. Here’s to watching you win.” Jack saluted him with a hip flask of silver, carved with delicate lines of frost.
Robin stared at him with a coldness to rival Jack’s own, then cocked his head at me. “It’s time, Lyssa.”
He trotted away, hooves clicking, and before I could follow, Jack caught my hand. He held my green fingers up to the light. “Excellent glamour-work.”
“That’s all Robin.” How could Jack create a wasteland of ice around himself, and yet be so warm? His fingers were rough, but he held my hand like it was made of spun glass.
Jack’s eyes ran over my faux face. This close, it was easier to pick out the separate colors in them: glacial white, steel gray, a sliver of frosted blue.
“Your face is much prettier,” he told me abruptly, and released my hand. “Good luck.”
I looked up at him, trying to think of something to say, and finally stepped away. Jack was an anomaly to me; it was better not to dig too deep beneath his ice. My loyalty would always be to Robin.
Still, with every step towards the fake Calder waiting for me, there was a part of me that wanted to step back into Jack’s world of still, silent snow and ice, where the only warmth was what came from his hands and words.
I shook my head like I could shake thoughts of him away as we approached the golem.
This time, the creature bowed obsequiously and moved aside for Calder. “Good evening, sir,” the golem rumbled.
Robin flapped a careless hand. “Yeah, yeah.”
I smiled at the golem and sashayed past, hot on Robin’s heels.
But whereas the golem had practically been scraping the floor for the satyr, the dancers of Myrage had a decidedly different reaction. As soon as Robin’s hooves hit the floor, they turned their backs, putting their all into the other patrons. Not a single one would make eye contact with him as he ascended the stairs.
I caught one of the nephelai dancers giving me a look of pity, and tossed my long hair over my shoulder, preening like I was blessed to be chosen by him.
It was all for Silke’s benefit. The huldra was outside the doors of Brightkin’s lounge again, wearing a white silk suit and scarlet lipstick.
Robin trotted towards her, tossing her a grotesque wink. “Have I told you how nice your ass is today, Silke?”
The huldra didn’t bother to conceal the curl of her lip. “Have I told you how utterly fucking disgusting you are, Calder?”
Damn. If we were in different places, I’d want to be her friend.
“Let me tell you what.” Robin was even managing to slur his accent a little, his voice gravelly, so Calder sounded like he’d already been hitting the bottle and smoking. He jerked his thumb towards the bar. “Let me touch it, just one time, and I’ll get you whatever you want from down there. Huh? How ‘bout it, babe? On the house.”
I gave him a dirty look. Lyssa was pissed her date was so loose and cheap, but there was a thin thread of my own real anger under the act. Just because Robin put me in situations where I had to let my ass get groped didn’t mean I wante
d him touching hers.
I also knew I was being totally ridiculous.
Silke just looked away like it sickened her to see him. “I would literally rather die of dehydration. Just go. He’s waiting for you.”
Robin chuckled and slipped a hand around my waist. I smiled vapidly at her while staring daggers. “That’s all right. I’ve got enough wet pussy here.”
Barf. Silke didn’t deign to say anything, waving him on through the door.
So Fionn had been the only one they hadn’t trusted. I supposed both Calder and Brightkin had an ironclad pass to bring anyone they wanted into the room. After all, any danger to Brightkin was a danger to the real Calder.
“Brightkin,” Robin rasped, waddling into the room. “How goes it?”
I stepped in like I owned the place and draped myself across the couch, pouting at Robin.
Brightkin was sprawled on the couch in the same spot as last time, but this time, there was no air of languid drunkenness. His eyes were red-rimmed but sharp, glittering dangerously in the dim light. “My cousin was murdered in the street like a dog. How the fuck do you think I am?”
That’s when I realized his clothes were stained and wrinkled like they’d been slept in many times, his blond hair unbrushed. There were no human girls in here tonight.
“Your cousin was a useless piece of shit.” Robin said it so bluntly it was shocking.
Brightkin leaned forward, balancing his forearms on his thighs. “Obviously. He was only here for ass and free evanesce. But my mother is still riding me about it like I was the one out there with the fucker.”
I had to try so hard to keep my haughty mask in place. This spoiled child was the crown prince of the Seelie realm? Ludicrous.
I wasn’t sorry in the slightest that Fionn had run afoul of the Ghosthand Killer. Still, you’d think your family would mourn you. The only thing Brightkin cared about was himself.
“And that’s because…” Robin grinned widely and spread his arms. “Your mother is a bitch!”
Brightkin chuckled and reached out to pour himself a drink. The pixie vodka slipped down in his throat in one go. “She can’t die soon enough.”
My heart clenched in my chest at this open talk of treason—from Titania’s own son, no less— but Robin didn’t so much as blink.
He grabbed a bottle off the liquor shelf and trotted over to me, sitting in the space I’d left for him.
“Look, Bright,” he said, taking a deep draught from the bottle. “So your cousin is dead. Who the fuck cares? We’ve got booze. We’ve got pussy.”
Robin ran his meaty glamoured hand up my thigh, stopping just short of touching my pussy. He gave Bright another crude grin, then pulled his hand away and dug in a pocket sewn inside the leather jacket. “And we’ve got a fresh shipment of evanesce.”
He held up a vial and wiggled it at Brightkin. It was the length of my ring finger, capped with gold, and instead of corpseroot powder, this one was full of a deep violet powder that glinted like fresh snow.
“Now that is what the fuck I’m talking about,” Brightkin breathed. His fingers twitched. “I’ve got Garda practically searching up my ass in the palace. There’s no way to get it in there.”
“Fuck ‘em in the ass.” Robin tossed him the vial. “Take the edge off.”
He was so convincing it was sickening. How many messages, ripped from Calder’s stolen phone, had he pored over between the two of them? He called the prince by a nickname I would never have dared to say to his face. He had intel he hadn’t even told me.
I’d heard nothing about a new shipment of evanesce, or Brightkin being searched in the palace, or that he wanted the Queen to die. I couldn’t imagine this… this thing ruling over Avilion.
A little head’s up would’ve been super cool of you, Robin.
Brightkin uncapped the vial and poured a line of evanesce over the back of his left hand. His right hand was shaking so badly he nearly spilled it.
When a quarter of the vial was dumped out, he lifted his hand to his face and snorted it, making awful choking noises.
“That’s better,” he breathed. “That’s so much better.”
His blue eyes were already glazing over.
“Good.” Robin took another drink, his hand stroking my thigh. If I didn’t look, I could almost pretend he wasn’t wearing Calder’s image. “Now let’s talk business. I need to get them out of here.”
Brightkin rubbed his nose, staring at Robin. “Why the rush? I haven’t tried the redhead yet.”
Thank the trees I wasn’t drinking, or I’d puke on him.
Robin tugged a cigar out of his jacket. It was like a cabinet of wonders in that thing. If he pulled out a live rabbit, I was out of here. “You know why. The bitch’s dog is sniffing around. Robin Goodfellow.”
Maybe it was a testament to how much Robin trusted in my acting skills, and I was determined not to prove him wrong. I didn’t flinch or stare, just ran my fingers through my silky, dripping hair and looked bored with it all.
Brightkin, on the other hand, dragged his hands through his hair like he was going to rip it out and flopped back against the couch with a groan. “Fucking Goodfellow? Are you sure?”
Robin lifted Calder’s meaty shoulders in a shrug. “My eyes say they’ve seen him around. We need to get them out, Bright. I’m not goin’ down like this.”
Brightkin snarled, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. “If he’s been seen, he already knows everything.”
I suppressed a brief spurt of pride for Robin’s reputation. That’s my boss.
The prince sat up so quickly I almost jumped, his eyes now wide and manic. “Fuck, Calder. We’ve gotta move them tonight or it’s all over.”
Robin pointed at him with the cigar. “That’s what I’m saying.”
“We’ve gotta go now.” Under the influence of evanesce, Brightkin’s movements were no longer shaky, but jerky and wild. His eyes were saucers in his face. “Fuck. I’ll get Silke. Bring your fish.”
I shot him the same dirty look I’d given Robin when he flirted with Silke, but got up in a fluid motion, like this was all just another day.
“Do we have to go now, baby?” I asked Robin, stroking his shoulders and putting a whine in my voice.
Brightkin flung the door open and practically shouted Silke’s name.
Robin looked up at me through Calder’s beady eyes. “You can stay here and wait for me,” he said, licking his lips as his eyes dropped to my chest.
Which was all for the better, since Silke chose that exact moment to step into the room and lock the door behind her. She wouldn’t know what Robin really meant.
I glanced at her, pouring all my actual jealousy into it, and pouted.
“No, I’ll go with you. I don’t want you to be alone with her.” I dropped my voice sulkily at the end, knowing Robin got the message: there’s no way you’re taking him down without me.
A look of consternation passed over Calder’s face, the one slip Robin had let out. “Fine. Don’t trip on those heels, princess. I won’t wait for you.”
I put my chin in the air and caught Silke rolling her eyes.
Brightkin lunged over a couch and grabbed the vial of evanesce off the table. “One for the road,” he said, tipping it over his tongue.
Blessed Branches, he was going to be too fucking high to walk a straight line.
Then he caught me by surprise. First off, he didn’t keel over from an evanesce overdose, which was a miracle in itself, and then he pushed against one of the dark wall panels at the back of the room.
It popped open, revealing a doorway of darkness.
I had the distinct feeling we’d missed something important, not knowing about that door.
Silke stood aside, allowing Brightkin to pass through. Robin didn’t miss a beat, trotting through the door and onto cobblestones.
I followed, sniffing haughtily as I passed Silke, and walked out into a tunnel with a set of stairs leading downwards. Two more guard
s were behind the door, dressed all in black, their faces covered by masks.
Ignoring the creeping feeling their faceless masks gave me, I tottered down the stairs on my ungainly heels like a baby deer, and heard Silke close the hidden door overhead. The huldra scoffed as she passed me, wearing much more sensible shoes.
Her suit was cut away to reveal her hollow, smooth back, her blonde hair swaying over the empty space.
The stairs ended after several flights. I estimated we were well into the Undercity, a suspicion that was confirmed when we entered yet another tunnel, this one with smooth dirt walls.
Brightkin was jittering in place. “Keep up, fish.”
Robin just sucked the cigar, releasing a billow of thick smoke in the air. “Lyssa, you’re cute, but I swear to fucking Pan I’m not carrying your ass.”
I let tears fill my eyes. It wasn’t hard.
Seeing Robin wear another’s face and persona, down to the cruel barbs, was hard as fuck, especially when my stress levels were at an all-time high.
I braced my hand on the dirt wall and unbuckled my shoes, trying not to think about what might be on the Undercity floors. “I won’t slow you down, baby,” I whined.
No way was he leaving without me. This was my job, too.
Brightkin and Robin took off. I noticed the satyr always remained a step or so behind Brightkin, letting the prince guide the way. If Brightkin turned, Robin clopped after him naturally, like he’d been going that way the entire time.
My feet were aching after ten minutes of walking. I cut my foot on a stone, a jolt of pain running through my leg with every step.
But if I stopped now… who knew what else might be looking for a defenseless Fae? We’d taken so many odd curves I’d never find my way out on my own.
It took another ten minutes of twists and turns before the stones in the ceiling started looking a little uneven, leaking rivulets of water that created muddy puddles between the stones.
I guessed we were somewhere near Acionna Harbor, if not directly under it. Oil lamps hung from the ceiling overhead, casting deep shadows.
Brightkin had stopped several times to snort more of the evanesce, growing jumpier with each hit.