I nodded. Werewolves had been prime examples of that.
“—and some, like Caz, were already law enforcement on the sly. But compared to our numbers, supe numbers, as a whole, that’s really a small percentage to police such a large community.”
“Ljubljana already had its gods and ruling council that took the reins immediately after the War,” I said, “but that’s just the tip of the iceberg.”
“Precisely.” Liva reached for the wine that wasn’t there any longer, sighed, and eased herself back in her chair. “The new authorities—and reshaped old ones—needed more manpower. The kind that would put them at an advantage. So they tried to recruit anyone who possessed abilities that might come in handy in their line of work. The majority of people joined willingly. Unfortunately, there were certain factions that didn’t particularly care about the asset’s will.”
I couldn’t help but think of Isa. She walked—or at least used to—a thin line between recruitment and blackmail. Her threatening Greta’s career was how I got tangled up in her business in the first place. Granted, I had wanted to find out what happened to my protégé, but if my protective, pack-oriented drive hadn’t kicked in, that threat alone would have been enough to sign me on.
When my gaze locked on Liva’s, it was painfully obvious that she knew. Knew I hadn’t been far off from receiving the exact treatment she’d fought to escape.
“A material empath would be an invaluable asset,” she said simply, as if she wanted to diminish the threat still so very much alive beneath those words. “I can’t deny I want to help people. Want to step in when all other means of delivering justice fail. But I can’t do that if it requires destroying myself in the process.”
“You’d be a tool in their arms.”
“Completely at their disposal.”
There was no scenario in which the police, ICRA, or anyone else for that matter would let someone like her go. Liva would lose her freedom.
Power was a good thing to have in our world.
But it could quickly become a cage, too.
I rubbed my hands down my arms to scatter the chill. Out of the corner of my eye, I glimpsed the already healing skin on my leg that the shorts Liva had loaned me left exposed.
I’ve never seen a werewolf heal a magic wound like this.
For once, I’d lucked out. But Liva was right. There were no guarantees once the authorities held your life in their hands. At least, knowing I’d joined ICRA of my own free will instead of being coerced into the job put me at ease, despite the whispers of trepidation embedded in my very bones.
“I understand,” I said solemnly, hoping she’d see that I meant it. “I wasn’t thinking straight. I’m sorry for even bringing it up.”
A sly smile played across her lips. “Don’t be. I said I can’t be around ICRA. I didn’t say I wouldn’t do it if you brought an object of your friend’s to Faery.”
Twenty
I placed a hand on my stomach as light cramps echoed in the wake of my laughter. With the easy atmosphere Liva and I shared, it was almost unimaginable that less than an hour had passed since the fight at Mochthrath.
Apparently, werewolves were far from the only ones who liked to scatter the dark through joy. Though, with Liva I got the impression this wasn’t so much a stress reliever—just the way of life. After all, brooding would only serve to make shitty times shittier. I appreciated Liva’s naturally bubbly, but still very much down-to-earth predisposition. And to make matters even better, the russet-haired Tierney had provided us with three platefuls of finger foods that melted on my tongue, as well as fresh spring water to help boost our energy levels.
I snagged one of the last pizza wheels and glanced at Liva who was reclining in her chair, face gently tipped towards the sunlight. I followed her example. It felt so, so good to just forget about everything for a moment, have some girl talk with a fellow supe who’d had her neat life turned upside down—and came out on the other side a winner.
Besides, knowing I could bring something of Melina’s to her lifted my spirits and gave me hope that even if Cian’s trip to the Court of Air bore no fruit—or, well, no Fae—I would walk away with a lead.
The single reason I hadn’t sprinted over to Melina’s apartment straight away was a purely logistical one. While Liva’s amethyst pendant made it possible for her to evanesce me around Faery, the magic simply wasn’t powerful enough to take on another passenger when it came to cross-realm travel. That, combined with Afanasiy’s warning not to run myself into the ground, convinced me I’d miss out on nothing if I kicked back and enjoyed this little respite while my leg finished healing.
Feeling how my body unwound, the previously accumulating tension gone, I was more than glad I’d actually followed the advice.
“Are you both all right?” Cian materialized out of thin air. “Tierney said—”
“We’re fine,” Liva reassured him and stood to place a kiss on his lips. “We should have expected someone was bound to stir shit given how successful the meeting was.”
While we hadn’t lingered long on the subject of Fae politics, Liva looped me in enough to outline the basics of the issue. She and Cian, with a few others who shared their vision, were pushing for something that resembled parliamentary monarchy. Resembled being the operative word. The Fae had a long tradition of following their sovereign, so the High Lords and High Ladies remained. Only in this new system, they would rule hand in hand with the public’s vote.
I never paid much attention to politics even in my own world, but I had to admit their tactic sounded good. An already established sense of safety joined with newly instated freedom of choice.
Unfortunately, not everyone agreed. Especially those coming from the Court of Fire—for reasons that reached farther into the past than our little chat could hope to encompass.
“It was nice having another non-Fae supe fighting by my side.” Liva beamed at me as she sat, then peered up at Cian. “How did your search go?”
“Niram is willing to speak with you.”
My heart lifted. “You found him?”
Cian braced his hands on the back of Liva’s chair and nodded. “He’s worried about his daughter and wants to do whatever he can to help. We shouldn’t keep him waiting.”
“I’m ready when you are.”
Cian’s gaze skimmed my mangled leg, but he didn’t comment on the wound. Instead, he simply offered me his hand and a small smile.
After I gave Liva a quick hug and promised to see her soon, I grabbed my backpack, took Cian’s hand, then mentally steadied myself for the trip with the full-blooded Fae.
It was better.
But only just.
The Court of Air was…airy. There was no other word for it, although naming the essence of the court as something so bland—if pleasant—certainly didn’t do this part of Faery justice. While there were grass, earth, and roads, everything carried a soft blue tint that gave the landscape a dreamlike quality. But it wasn’t just that. The houses were made of glass, partly translucent, partly covered in an opaque sheen that offered privacy and could only be some sort of magic. My gaze caught on the crystalline jewels adorning some of the facades, glimmering coolly as they caught the sunlight.
Cian’s amusement drifted to me on the currents as the initial, nearly overwhelming awe faded—only to be replaced by bone-deep wonder when I truly took in the architecture.
The houses—they seemed to float, almost as if they didn’t need Earth-tethered foundations. It must have been a trick of the eye, a clever optical illusion messing with my perception.
Or not.
This was Faery after all. And I was seriously under-informed of their ways.
Pressing his hand lightly to my back, Cian guided me towards a glass fountain dominating the center of an open square. I recognized Niram immediately.
Softly slanted eyes, black hair that reached just past his shoulders where the ends turned a sky blue shade. His jawline was a bit squarer, mouth a touch
thinner, but still, when I looked at him, I couldn’t help seeing Melina in his face.
“I didn’t even know,” were the first words the Fae said when we approached. The sheer devastation clinging to the edges of his voice was enough to send a bolt of hurt spearing through my chest. “I didn’t even know…”
Not even the breeze could scatter the sorrow that suffused the air and hovered around Niram like a dark shroud his every breath fed. I stepped away from Cian and drew Melina’s father into a hug. His lithe body shuddered as I held him, afraid he might crumble if I let go.
“Do you wish to see her?” I whispered.
Niram leaned back and looked at me with red-rimmed eyes. “Can I?”
“Of course.” At least I hoped my ICRA ID gave me the clearance to bring in visitors.
Then again, I’d fight the lot of them if I had to. There wasn’t a chance in all the godsdamned realms that I’d allow anyone to keep Niram from his daughter.
“I’ll need to ask you some questions along the way, though,” I added as I retreated to Cian’s side. “I understand this is unpleasant, but I have to learn as much as I can to figure out why anybody would want to hurt Melina.”
“You’re a friend.”
A statement, not a question.
I nodded, then went on, not wanting the opportunity to go to waste. “Everyone I can think of adores your daughter, Niram. Could it be that someone from your life went after her? Bathilda mentioned you have a good standing in society, but maybe—”
“No.”
Winds whisked across my bare legs.
“What you said is true. I’m a prominent member of the Air Court, but few people outside those I trust even know I have a daughter.”
His voice hitched on that last sentence, and Cian moved in to place a hand on Niram’s shoulder. The two males exchanged a look, Niram’s face filled with gratitude, respect, Cian’s with understanding and sympathy. Obviously, there was a whole lot of history here I was missing; not something personal per se, but a collective past that had affected both Fae.
“Faery was…not a kind place when Melina was born,” Niram said quietly, casting another glance at Cian who now stood at a distance, but close enough to offer support. “It was why I sent her away to her mother’s realm. Your realm. It was safer, especially for someone with mixed blood. A half-Fae would have been an easy target, regardless of how powerful Melina is in her own way.”
“But you stayed in contact with her?”
A dip of his chin. “Only a little at first, when I was still afraid of her being discovered. But over the last six years, we reconnected. Not to the extent I would have wished—impossible, with all the years lost—but we tried. We planned to spend more time together once I wasn’t needed in Faery as much as I am now. Maybe even bring her here…” He sucked in a shuddering breath. “But to answer your question—no, I don’t think anybody from my life could be responsible for the attack.”
Shit. I chewed on my lower lip, then quickly corrected myself.
Niram didn’t need to know that he had been my best lead.
He rubbed his eyes and swallowed. “Could I… Could I see her now?”
I looked to Cian who offered me his hand without missing a beat. “Where to?”
Just to be on the safe side, we evanesced outside the ICRA facility and went through all the standard security checks. My outfit garnered a few odd looks since the February chill was cold enough to send goose bumps rushing down my bare legs despite a were’s inherent ability to withstand the harsher weather conditions, but a wardrobe change was really the last thing on my mind. Thankfully, aside from the glances, no one asked any questions or stopped us once I flashed my badge.
Niram and Cian flanked me as we made our way up the main stairs to the medical ward. Neither of the Fae said a word, although the tension around them was thick enough to taste. Niram’s was, of course, tied to Melina, but I had a suspicion Cian’s state had a different origin. Seeing representatives of his race wasn’t exactly a common occurrence in our realm. Especially High Lords. Which meant he was more than likely scanning the agents’ subtle reactions, reading them for any possible threat.
After what Liva had told me about forcefully recruiting assets, I really couldn’t blame him.
The presence of disinfectant and machinery grew once we passed through the double doors with a swipe of my card. My steps slowed. As did theirs. Much like the first time I’d been here, not a trace of Melina’s scent reached my nostrils. But that inexplicable sensation of knowing her room was just up ahead slithered through my very bones. I wouldn’t put it past Niram and Cian that they’d picked up on the exact same thing.
My gaze fixed on the heavy-duty door, I fought the tightness in my stomach, fought the image of my friend I knew I would have to face again. I laced my fingers through Niram’s without conscious thought, then stopped our little procession before we could catch a glimpse of Melina.
“Just remember that she’s going to be fine,” I said softly, sounding a lot more convinced than I felt. “No matter how bad it looks right now.”
Niram started to nod, but a harsh breath wheezed from his lungs when we crossed that final stretch of distance, and there was nothing left to block the view of his daughter. Battered and unconscious, Melina lay immobile in the hospital bed, the same grisly tubes running from her frail form like vicious tentacles and her heartbeat blinking on the monitor. No visible improvement since I last saw her.
Just the malevolent air of what had been done to her emanating past all the shields ensconcing the room.
I gripped Niram’s hand tighter. Even Cian came to stand on the other side and placed a comforting hand on the Fae’s shoulder.
Feeling the peculiar blend of anger and tears rise within me, I glanced at Cian behind Niram’s back. He wore a strained expression, but there was an edge of something sharper in the way he looked at Melina. A hint of uncertainty, too, lined with suspicion.
Our gazes locked.
“Is it possible to go inside?” he asked.
I scanned the corridor. An ICRA doctor scribbled down notes on his tablet by the water cooler at the far end of the wing where the bleak hallway branched into a T. Couldn’t hurt to ask, though I knew deep in my gut that I would end up opening that door anyway, permission or not.
“Give me a sec.” I sprinted towards the doctor, calling out to him just before he would have slipped into a key-coded room. “Doctor”—my gaze skimmed the badge pinned to his white coat—“Sommer, I have a question about one of the patients here.”
The lean, tall vampire narrowed his gaze at me, finding my own credentials moments after he’d arched an eyebrow at my shorts and pink, freshly healed skin. His expression softened. “Which one?”
“Melina Forsberg. Room six.” I blew out a breath to push away the uneasiness at what I had to say and accept the clinical detachment the situation required. In this building, I wasn’t a friend. Just a liaison working on a case. “I was wondering if we could see the victim up close. One of my associates detected something, but he can’t be sure unless he’s in the same room as her.”
It wasn’t even a lie, although Cian might not have used as many words as I did. But there was something the rest of us missed that had spiked his interest.
Sommer glanced at his watch, then nodded. “Five minutes, but no more.” He hesitated, halting mid-step, then planted his foot down as if he’d changed his mind. After a second, though, he pivoted around again to face me. “Has anyone seen to your wound?”
Despite everything, I smiled. “Yes, but thanks for your concern.”
Again, the vamp looked like he wanted to say more about it. Only this time, he didn’t.
“If you need anything else, I’ll be in here for the next half hour.” He swiped his keycard through the scanner, our gazes locking one last time as if to remind me of my deadline before he disappeared through the door.
Five minutes.
Not a lot of time, but my gut was telli
ng me Cian wouldn’t even need that much.
I returned to the two Fae. Niram hadn’t moved an inch, but Cian immediately whipped around, his purple irises filled with questions.
“We can go in.” I touched my fingers lightly to Niram’s upper arm. “If you’d prefer to stay outside, we won’t judge you.”
The Fae shook his head. “I want to.”
While his voice came out hoarse and thick with emotion, the determination underneath cut through like a blade. I gave Niram a curt dip of my chin, then looked at Cian and opened the door.
Fuck.
Everything—everything was so much worse inside. My senses reeled at the overload of sharp, medicinal scents, the faint beating of Melina’s heart, as well as the pulse of her magic as it fought to repair her broken body.
Niram froze by the door, tears streaming down his cheeks. I wanted to reach out to him, but I didn’t trust to keep my composure if I physically touched him.
Gods, Isa had said it had only been Melina’s Fae blood that had kept her alive—and I’d seen with my own eyes the brush with death Melina experienced spelled out in the lacerations and bruises littering her body. But in here, without the safety of glass creating a barrier between us…
Shit, this hadn’t been a close brush with death.
It had been a fucking intimate dance that had all but consumed her.
Swallowing, I focused on Cian who prowled closer to the bed. His expression was unreadable, the mask of a High Lord. Only the almost imperceptible tightness of his lips gave away what was happening beneath that collected facade.
I rubbed my hands down my arms as the faint tingle of his magic caressed my skin. My fingernails dug in in anticipation.
“Demonic,” he said tightly.
“What?”
Cian turned to me, his purple eyes twin storms on the verge of breaking. “The imprint of violence on her flesh, her power… It’s demonic.”
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