Institute of the Shadow Fae Box Set

by C. N. Crawford

  Just as soon as I could find them. Black studded doors blocked most of the entrances to the towers. Were there demons lurking behind them?

  I sniffed the air, scenting something unfamiliar. Not fae, no. It smelled cold and musty, like the bottom of a grave. That was where I needed to go.

  I glanced at the other novices, who were still hanging around the cobbled area.

  At least, until the barguest unleashed a wild, bestial roar, charging for one of the towers. As he did, a white-horned demon burst through a door, dressed in silver armor. I watched as the barguest fought him with brutal swings of his sword. I took just a moment to analyze his form. He had a powerful swing, capable of slicing through a tree trunk, but his technique was a little uncontrolled, and he kept leaving himself open on the right side.

  Still, sloppy or not, he was about to slaughter the demon, which meant he was one demon closer to winning than I was.

  I sniffed the air again, catching the grave-like scent. I unsheathed my sword, following the smell across the green to one of the towers. I broke into a sprint before any of the other novices caught on that I had a lead.

  I kicked through the wooden door into a stairwell, then crept inside, my sword raised. In here, the scent of rot grew stronger, and I followed it up the narrow stairs. Halfway up the tower, the stairwell opened into a great hall—one filled with around a dozen people dressed in gem-studded costumes. A banquet table spanned one side. A melodious song floated in the air.

  My jaw dropped. This wasn’t the slaughter-fest I’d expected. No, this was a lavish Tudor ball, and the guests wore beautiful masks: swans, butterflies, flowers…. Between balconies above us, vibrant silk swathes spanned the ceiling, flecked with pearls and gems. Jeweled fabric lined the walls, too.

  If I didn’t have demon killing on the agenda right now, I’d drop my sword and start digging into the meat and potatoes laid out on the table. The Tudors were damned good at throwing parties.

  But who, exactly, was I supposed to fight? They didn’t even look like demons.

  As I stalked into the room, the chatter died down, quiet enough that I could hear my own footsteps and the clashing of swords outside. A roar from the barguest outside pierced the windows. Everyone stared at me.

  As the crowd parted for me, a new figure emerged. There, at the other end of the hall, a woman glided toward me. She wore a green silk dress, studded with pearls, and her black hair had been pulled back tightly into a cap. On top of her cap sat a demure silver crown. Was she a queen?

  Something about her dark eyes was particularly alluring, and her delicately curved figure gave the impression that she was about to burst out of her gown. She wore a beautiful pearl necklace around her delicate throat. The only thing a bit off about her was the sixth finger on her right hand. Still, my body tingled at the sight of her. In fact, I wanted to touch her.

  So she was the demon.

  An evil queen, perhaps. A warped, demonic, witchy version of Anne Boleyn?

  She lifted a graceful hand. “Have you come to join us?” Her voice sounded alluring, an invitation I couldn’t resist. I gripped my sword harder. I couldn’t bring myself to just swing for her. For one thing, she hadn’t attacked, and for another, she was giving me a seductive pout. I kind of wanted to be her friend or give her a hug or something….

  I swallowed hard. “I’m looking for a demon.”

  Her lip curved in a graceful smile, and her eyelashes fluttered. “A demon?” she trilled.

  Around her, the small crowd burst into delicate laughter.

  Okay, this was really not going as planned. I’d frankly be much more comfortable if I’d busted into a room of naked men hacking into each other with swords. That probably said something disturbing about me, but it wasn’t the time to dwell on personal flaws.

  The witch glided closer again, her body undulating with seductive grace. The faintest hints of dark magic curled around her. A succubus?

  My eyes flicked around the room, and I started to think that everyone in here was in her thrall, lured in by her spell. She was drawing me in, too, and I had to resist her.

  I lifted my sword, ready to strike, except I couldn’t quite bring myself to do it. I needed a different demon to slaughter.

  As I stared at her, the woman’s ears lengthened into those of a doe, her dark eyes widening. “Touch me not,” she whispered, a delicate hand reaching for me.

  I could almost hear her heart beating from here, and I was torn by competing impulses to hug her and kill her.

  Then, she broke into a run through the hall—but it only lasted a moment before an arrow pierced her neck. One of the revelers had shot her—a bearded man in a ruff with a sort of beret on his head. His eyes sparked with wild flames.

  I gritted my teeth. He had a weapon. He had demon eyes. He could die. He nocked an arrow, aiming it now at me, and he fired. I managed to deflect the arrow with my sword.

  Definitely okay with killing him. While he was trying to nock another arrow, I lunged for him. I carved through his bow with my sword, then drove it through his chest. Bellows erupted around me. Now, flames gleamed in all the guests’ eyes. I was starting to realize I’d misinterpreted the whole situation when I’d first arrived.

  I was in a hell world of some kind, and the seductive woman was their victim. Because of course she was—that was how the world worked. Ciarianna would not put up with that shit.

  I pivoted, ready to take on the next demon. But at the sound of swords being drawn from their sheaths, adrenaline blazed through my nerves. I’d apparently taken on a crowd of eleven men. I sheathed my sword, a hint of panic whispering in my skull.

  Baleros’s twelfth law of power: Know when you’re outnumbered.

  Chapter 15

  I leapt into the air, snatching one of the swathes of fabric. I climbed up, hand over hand, until I reached the mezzanine level, and I swung into one of the balconies. I scanned my surroundings, my gaze quickly landing on a stairwell. I could make a fast exit, but I needed to take out as many as possible on the way out.

  My gaze flicked over the lanterns burning brightly in the balcony. Maybe a little fire would help direct things my way.

  Baleros’s fifteenth law of power: Always use your surroundings.

  My pulse racing, I pulled one of the lanterns off its mount and hurled it down to the lower level. The oil ignited, causing a small explosion that lit the fabric on the walls.

  I sprinted for the stairwell, then thundered down the stairs, my sword drawn. As the demonic guests began to run for the exit, fleeing the smoke and flames, I drove my sword into them, one by one. In their panic, none of them were prepared for me, and I hacked into them, slaughtering the first two down the stairs. The rest turned and ran back into the burning building.

  Smoke filled the air, now, and I turned to flee the tower before the whole thing burned down. When I reached the lower level, the silver-crowned queen raced past me. My jaw dropped. She’d come to life again.

  It seemed she’d been condemned to a hell world where she was fated to die over and over again. What crime had she committed? Seduction, probably. In worlds ruled by men, that in itself was some kind of unforgivable witchcraft.

  I was dimly aware of the other novices fighting demons around me, but my attention was on the queen, who stood in the grass. Blood spattered her green gown.

  From behind her, a hulking, beastly demon burst through one of the iron-studded doors. His body was that of a giant man, bedecked in the robes and furs of a king, and his eyes glistened like white pearls. But his face was leonine, and he had a mane of ginger hair. A golden crown gleamed on top of his head. So, she was the queen, and here we had our king.

  My pulse raced at the sight of him, and part of my brain screamed that I needed to run, fast.

  I stared as he flicked his wrist, severing the woman’s head from her body.

  Another demon I’ll happily slaughter.

  As I ran for him, my sword drawn, he unsheathed his own longsword. He
roared, and our blades clashed, steel against steel. His strikes held an immense power, and I struggled to keep my balance.

  He roared again, and a powerful blow crashed into my sword. I stumbled for a moment, losing my footing, and he lunged for me, swinging wildly. Regaining my composure, I nimbly dodged back, but he caught me with the tip of his sword, drawing blood from my abdomen. I gripped my gut, my heart thundering.

  Oh, shit. I was losing control of this situation.

  He slashed for me again, and I dodged. This time, he just nicked me in the hip. A hot stab of pain shot through me.

  I clenched my jaw. I needed to get control here.

  I gripped my sword hard, striking for him. He parried, again and again, but his size also slowed him down. Now, a familiar strength and surety coursed through me. I knew exactly how to angle my blade, exactly where each step should fall, until I was driving him back into a wall. Power—my legacy, my heritage—suffused my limbs. Still, I took care to wipe the smug look off my face, just as Ruadan had instructed.

  I could see that my opponent’s form was growing sloppier the longer it went on. I suppressed a smile as he retreated toward one of the tower walls. I really liked defeating enemies who were much larger than I was. There was just something about the look of disbelief on their faces….

  When he stumbled, I seized the moment and lunged for him, thrusting my sword into his heart. His milky eyes widened in horror, and I pulled out my glistening, red blade.

  I’d been injured—pretty badly—but my gladiator training had conditioned me to survive a fight by blocking out pain. Adrenaline raced through me, numbing the agony I should have felt.

  Once I slaughtered him, a loud bell began to toll, and a roaring noise rumbled off the stone walls. Streams of demons began bursting through the black wooden doors, racing onto the green, swords and axes raised. They wore jeweled clothing and velvet caps, and many had black wings and talons. My stomach dropped at the sight of them.

  It seemed that killing the demon-king in this world was a bit of a faux-pas. In fact, the demons were all bellowing something that sounded like treason, treason, treason!

  Just as I was contemplating the logistics of fighting off an entire horde of Tudor-era demons, a small whirlpool of water bloomed by the cobbled square.

  That was our exit out of here. Already, Maddan and the barguest were abandoning their posts, leaping into the water. Not the worst idea in the world. Clearly, the knights had been watching us, deciding when they needed to intervene.

  My gaze darted, and I caught a glimpse of a crowd of demons closing in on Goth Fae—Bran, his name was. So much for being a Slayer of Foes. I winced at the sight of his body getting hacked by brutal Tudor swords. He fell to the ground, and his blood stained the grass.

  But before I abandoned ship completely, I surveyed the battleground until my gaze landed on Melusine. Two rangy demons in lacy ruffs were boxing her in. I couldn’t let them just slaughter her. I raced for them, sword drawn.

  As soon as I reached them, I carved my sword into the first demon, slicing through his gut. Then, I whirled, cutting my blade through the other’s neck. Blood arced through the air.

  “Get to the portal!” I shouted.

  I glanced back at the woman in the green dress, who’d come to life again—reunited with her head. Gods-damn it. I couldn’t just leave her here, either.

  I had just one more task before I left this realm….

  Danger was closing in around me, and my canines began lengthening as my fae form took over. Still, I ran for the woman in the green dress, moving as fast as a hurricane, dodging my demonic attackers. Pure power imbued my limbs.

  When I reached her, I grabbed her arm. She was shrieking, hysterical, but I dragged her along with me. I used my free arm to fend off attackers with my sword. We reached the portal, and I shoved her into the whirlpool, pivoting one last time to drive my sword into a demon.

  Then, I leapt into the portal, and the icy water enveloped me.

  The portal sucked me in deeper, drawing me further under. I brushed past the queen’s silky dress, and I wrapped an arm around her so I could drag her out with me when the time came. I wasn’t sure exactly why, but apparently I’d made it my job to be her protector, and she was coming back to my world with me.

  As we sank deeper into the portal, my lungs began to burn, until at last I felt the downward tug relenting. I kicked my legs to bring us up swiftly to the surface. Light began to pierce the water, growing brighter until we breached the surface. I hoisted myself over the stone lip of the portal. Then, I dragged the queen out.

  I hauled both our arses out of the water, soaking wet.

  On my knees, I struggled to catch my breath. From the ground, I looked up into the face of Grand Master Savus. He looked perplexed, his silver eyebrows furrowed. A splashing noise behind me turned my head. A velvet-capped, black-winged demon was trying to hoist himself from the portal. Instinctively, I swung for him, severing his head from his body. His blood stained the portal red.

  As all the adrenaline left my veins, pain slammed into me, and I felt the deep gashes that had been carved into my hip and my abdomen. I realized that my blood was pouring down my body, mingling with the water.

  Grand Master Savus cocked his head. “You’re a demi-fae. What is your other half?”

  I swallowed hard. I’d been hoping that wouldn’t come up, but he must have realized that my strength exceeded that of even a noble, full-blooded fae. “I don’t know,” I lied. “I was an orphan.”

  With a swirl of dark magic, the portal began closing up in front of us.

  Grand Master Savus glared at the queen, who was sobbing hysterically on the cobbles. “You brought something back with you.”

  I gripped my stomach, trying to block out the pain tearing through my side. “Sorry about that. She didn’t belong there. Those demons were twats.”

  Swirls of mist poured off Savus, skimming over my skin like some kind of warning. “Well, you successfully slaughtered more demons than any other novice, so I will grant you a bit of leeway.”

  Melusine crossed to me, grabbing my elbow to help me up. “Why did you kill the demons surrounding me? The other novices are trying to thin the competition, and you decided to keep me in it.”

  I grimaced, holding my waist. “You gave me a strawberry. Also, we have a greater chance of lasting if we work together.”

  She nodded. “Oh. I see. It’s strategic. I’m not good with a sword, but I can be useful, too.”

  I believed her.

  The three other novices stood on the cobbles, bodies dripping with water. The goth had been killed, but the other males remained. I narrowed my eyes at them.

  One down, three to go.

  It took me a minute to pick out Ruadan, but he was there, standing behind the recruits. Shadowy magic cloaked him.

  But from within his cloud of dark magic, his violet eyes burned with curiosity. I hadn’t just surprised the other recruits. I’d surprised him, too.

  Chapter 16

  I sat on the cold floor of Ruadan’s room, holding my side. I’d tried to stitch myself up a little bit. Since I didn’t know any magic, I couldn’t heal myself the way the other recruits would.

  In the gladiator ring, the masters had allowed some types of magic—fireballs, electrical pulses, anything that didn’t require words. For the most part, gladiators were suspicious of anything that involved language. They liked pointy things and magic that went boom, but they weren’t exactly the thinking types.

  I sighed. It was probably for the best that way. Someone like me probably shouldn’t have access to powerful magic, because gods knew what I’d do with it.

  So instead of using magic to heal myself, I’d spent the last twenty minutes gritting my teeth and stitching my skin together with a needle and thread—something I’d done many times before. Sadly, I had to use up some of my whiskey to clean the wounds on my belly and my hip.

  The wounds still didn’t feel quite right, though,
and I only had to hope that the next trial would involve a bit less slicing.

  Grimacing, I pierced the final piece of skin with the needle, then tied off the thread. I cut it and collapsed against Ruadan’s rocky bed.

  Exhaustion ate at me, and I was trembling a little from the pain. Just as my eyes were drifting closed, the door creaked open.

  Ruadan glided into the room. His very presence seemed to darken the space around him, the air frosting about us, candles flickering in their sconces.

  I shuddered at the sight of him, until he pulled down his dark cowl. Then, my gaze roamed over the stark perfection of his face. The irritating bastard had a way of mesmerizing me.

  Given that the gods had blessed him with such overwhelming beauty, it was a shame he always cloaked it with his hood and dark magic. But of course, a man like Ruadan wasn’t the type to indulge in trivial things like enjoying life at all.

  Aengus pushed through the door behind him, and it creaked on its hinges.

  “Where have you two been?” I asked.

  Aengus’s lips curled in a wry smile. “Trying to figure out what to do with the queen you brought into our fortress.”

  “Who is she?” I asked, still gripping my side.

  Aengus shrugged. “Calls herself Nan Bullen. She’s a bit of a diva.”

  “She’s pretty,” I pointed out. “Maybe she’ll make a charming wife for one of the knights.”

  Aengus arched an eyebrow. “Has no one told you? Knights of the Shadow Fae are not allowed to take wives. Or lovers. Or anything enjoyable.”

  I glanced at Ruadan, who’d taken one of his knives off the wall to sharpen it. “I can see why Ruadan fits in so well here, then. He hates fun. He’s happiest brooding in his room, sharpening his blades. He takes brooding breaks just to scowl at a bottle of whiskey and glare at anyone with the audacity to smile.”

  “I hadn’t expected you to get to know him so quickly.” Aengus frowned at a bra I’d hung from the doorknob, then picked it up by the strap with one finger. “I like what you’ve done with his room. I’m sure Ruadan loves the feminine touch.”