Gray and Graves: A Dark Fae Menage Urban Fantasy (The Three Courts of Faerie Book 1)

by C. M. Stunich

“That's what I'm hoping to find out, George. As of right now, we don't even know where they're operating from or who's in charge. Let alone how they even know about the existence of the undead.” A light bulb went off in my head as I dropped my broken shoes to the floor. Let Mai clean them up with everything else, I thought with a snicker, and began to dig around in my purse. The pamphlet lay crumpled between my red, leather wallet and a dime store romance novel I'd grabbed on the fly and hadn't yet had the chance to read. I pulled it out of the purse and handed it to Corey.

  He read it over quickly before grinning at me and pulling me into a sloppy, wet kiss. I could tell that later, when all of the hubbub had died down, that the 'I love you' thing was going to come up. I almost wished that I hadn't said it, but since it was already out there, I didn't have much choice in the matter. I only hoped Corey wouldn't take me too seriously.

  “You are a fucking genius, George,” he said, squeezing me yet again. I could almost feel Amadan's mirth behind me. I didn't know what he thought what so funny, but I was definitely going to question him about it later.

  “By the way,” I said, leaning back from Corey's embrace. “What the fuck happened to your 'human proof' security system? First we had a visit from the cops and then someone from the Coalition managed to shoot one of our own right in our front door without anybody noticing. What's going on?”

  Corey's initial excitement over the address printed on the front of the brochure faded and he looked down at me, eyes dark with the gravity of the situation.

  “It was dismantled,” he began, his tone grave. “By another necromancer in this area.” I almost jumped, as startled as I was by his statement.

  “Another necromancer?” I asked. Last he'd told me, there were no other necromancers within a three hundred mile radius.

  “Yes,” Corey said, fingering the pamphlet. “And he's far more powerful than I am.”

  I stood silently, glancing between the bucket of bloody water that the lich was using to mop with, Amadan's moist lips, and Corey's wrinkled brow before speaking in a near whisper.

  “We are so fucked.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  WRAITH

  “One of the more difficult spirits to raise, a wraith is a soul that remains with its original body longer than most. One way to accurately predict a wraith out of your summoning is by examining the body. If the corpse is more than three weeks old and the spirit is still present, you can be assured of a successful wraith summoning. A word of warning: wraiths are always full of deep loathing and a desperate sense of urgency either from an unsuccessful life or a tragic death. Be wary.”

  There were only five hours left until the apocalypse. By which I mean dinner with my family and there I was, standing outside the door of my best friend, Charlotte Collins. And not just because I wanted a little girl time and a tub of Ben and Jerry's Phish Food ice cream.

  Corey had not only flipped out about my encounter with the hellhound (as if I had chosen to have it hide in the back of the van and chase me), but he'd also flipped out about the state of the van (as if that were also my fault) and had 'banned' me from going with him to investigate the Coalition's main office.

  His claim was that it was too dangerous and he wanted me safe. I felt like he was just trying to control me. So I waited until his truck pulled out of the driveway, counted to sixty, retrieved my keys from Lynna's purse, and took off in my victory red Impala. I had wanted to use my time away from Corey to speak with Amadan, but the thick headed faery had locked himself in one of the upstairs bedrooms and pretended to be asleep. Or maybe he really was, I didn't know.

  “Nice job keeping me safe, Amadan,” I smirked at Charlotte's front door. “I bet you don't even know that I left.” I couldn't wait to see Corey's temper tantrum about this one. He had specifically asked Amadan to watch over me to which the sidhe had agreed. Though I was pretty sure Amadan could kick Corey's ass in a one on one brawl.

  I heard the latch on the inside being pulled back and jiggled on the balls of my feet in excitement as a six foot two woman with a fall of strawberry blonde hair and cheeks so rosy they'd never seen the end of a makeup brush opened the door with a squeal.

  “God, George, are you talking to yourself again?” We hugged tightly and I passed her a bottle of some cheap champagne I'd picked up on the way over.

  “I know you like your booze like you like your men,” I jested as she checked the label on the bubbly. “Cheap and easy.” We both snorted as I followed her Amazonian ass into the tiny kitchen.

  She was wearing a pair of faded denim jeans which wrapped around her long legs like a second skin as well as a navy halter top which left much of her midriff exposed, crescent shaped belly ring and all.

  “Too bad you're straight,” I joked, snatching the pile of red and white Netflix envelopes off of her blue-green granite counter top. “'Cause you're lookin' good today.” She smacked her bottom jokingly and gave me a lascivious wink.

  “You know I'd go gay for you, George, you just gotta ask!” We both laughed as I ripped open the paper in a desperate quest to see what movies she'd rented. Charlotte was my best friend for two reasons. Firstly, she was the only person I'd ever met that shared the same obsession with Asian horror flicks as I did. Secondly, she was the only person I'd ever cared about that I hadn't tried to turn into a failed romantic relationship or that wasn't biologically related to me.

  She watched me struggle with the envelopes as she uncorked the champagne and retrieved two fluted glasses from her white washed cabinets.

  “I got the Ghost of Mae Nak,” she said as she filled one glass to the brim and handed it to me. “And The Grudge. The original, Japanese version.” I grinned. There was nothing that scared Char and I more than creepy, dead women with mounds and mounds of evil, black hair. That was, essentially, a genre of Asian horror in and unto itself and despite all of the real undead things that I had seen, including myself, they still managed to freak me out.

  “And … ” She made a little motion with her fingers after setting down the champagne bottle. “Drum roll, please … ” Char raced over to the coffee table and grabbed a DVD case that had been sitting on the top of a foot high stack before bringing it over and presenting it to me with a flourish. “Ta-da!”

  Oh fuck.

  Night of the Living Dead.

  Did I ever mention that zombie films are the one exception to my horror movie craze?

  “Oh, uh, yeah,” I said, trying to sound enthusiastic. “That's great.” Char either didn't notice my trepidation or chose to ignore it. I was betting the former since I was pretty sure that Char didn't have a mean or spiteful bone in her beautiful, sun kissed body.

  “Want to watch it first?” she asked, the DVD having already made it out of the case and into the DVD player.

  “Um, yeah, sure, why not.” I grabbed the glass of champagne and downed it in one quick swig. I thanked the Gods for Corey's wonderful glamour which still allowed me to get plastered and reached for the bottle for a refill.

  About thirty minutes into the film, I had a nice buzz going, and Charlotte was downright drunk though not from my measly bottle of champagne. No, she'd pulled out the big guns. She had significantly reduced the level of liquid in her bottle of Jack Daniel's without any help from me.

  “Wanna make out?” she slurred as I watched Barbara hide away from the living dead. I pushed her away and took another sip of champagne. Char tried to make out with everything that walked when she'd gotten a little alcohol in her system.

  “Watch the zombies, Char,” I said, pushing her away and trying not to be bothered by the film. The move was in black and white, made in the sixties, and had completely ridiculous, unrealistic zombies, but I was still having trouble stomaching it.

  “But I wanna,” she crooned, slumping onto the arm of the couch. “I wanna have seeeeeeex.” She giggled for several moments before beginning to snore.

  “Thank God,” I whispered, glancing up at the ceiling for a brief moment. I grabbed the rem
ote and turned the TV off with a sigh of relief. It was only then that I heard a soft scratching at Charlotte's front door. It sounded like her neighbor's Pomeranian, Jo-Jo.

  Char's neighbor across the hall, Mrs. Splinters, was as rough around the edges as her name implied, and was constantly encouraging her dog to piss on or bark at my best friend's door.

  “Stupid fucking rat,” I snarled through my teeth as I stomped over to the door and wrenched it open with the loose anger found only in someone who's had at least a few drinks.

  But it wasn't Jo-Jo. It wasn't even a dog. Or maybe it was. I wasn't sure if hellhounds were part of the genus canis. To my credit, I didn't scream at the skinless monstrosity that was sniffing at my bare knee or at the half naked man holding the leash.

  I didn't get a very good look at him, though I did catch a glimpse of glowing skin and glimmering metal on his face before I slammed the door with such ferocity that I woke Char from her drunken stupor. I threw the latch on the door and raced over to my groggy, confused friend.

  “Come on Char,” I said, slipping an arm around her waist and hauling her up with me while simultaneously grabbing my cell phone from her coffee table and punching in Corey's number.

  “I was just resting my eyes, George, I shwear it,” she mumbled, stumbling along as I led her through the kitchen and into her bedroom. As soon as she saw the pink and white comforter, she jerked herself out of my arms and threw her body onto the bed. “It's time to shleep, Gorge.” She giggled. “I mean, George.”

  “Come on, come on, pick up, Corey, you fucking asshole,” I snarled, unlatching the lock on the window before flinging it open. One of the great things about living in Eula was that the fire code required any building over one story to have fire escapes.

  “Hi, you've reached Corey Bennett,” his message began as I ended the call and attempted to stuff the phone into my pocket. I didn't have any which suddenly reminded me of something.

  “Shit, my keys!” I raced back into the living room and grabbed my purse just as the door burst open, the dead bolt tearing right out of the wall as the hellhound lifted up its muzzle and howled.

  Don't run, I'm a friend.

  Despite the circumstances, I had to pause. It was my subconscious again. The new one, the strong one, the male one. And it wasn't really me at all.

  “Get the fuck out of my head!” I screeched, grabbing the Jack Daniel's bottle and tossing it on the floor in front of the glowing man who was, undoubtedly, some sort of fae. It shattered, staining Char's white carpeting with glistening, honey colored liquid. Both the man and the hellhound paused for a moment. It was all I needed. I grabbed a box of matches from my purse and lit one, tossing it onto the spilled alcohol.

  It wasn't quite the scene I'd expected. The whole apartment didn't explode in chest high red and orange flames. Sure, there was a reaction. A sparking in the air, if you will, and a rush of heat, but it was pretty anticlimactic. Luckily for me, it was enough to startle the hellhound for just a moment and while the fae was trying to get its undead beast under control, I raced into the bedroom.

  I slammed the door and locked it though I knew it wouldn't buy us much time.

  “Come on Char,” I urged, grabbing her around the waist again and dragging her flopping body towards the window. She was thoroughly out of it though, and I had to use my undead strength to hoist her completely into my arms like a prince rescuing his princess. The building that Char lived in was old and had massive, nearly floor to ceiling windows and absolutely no screens. It was a sign of a chintzy building manager but also good luck for the two of us.

  I carried us both out the window and used my foot to push the rusty ladder down the track. It opened easily, racing to the cement below before crashing into several green garbage cans with an explosion of rats and one stealthy, orange alley cat.

  It was slow, awkward going trying to get the two of us down the ladder, and if I'd been anything but preternaturally strong, I never would have been able to manage it. The fae and the hellhound didn't make another appearance. Not as we were navigating the fire escape or on my frantic run to the Impala.

  I tossed Char into the backseat, had the car started, and was in the process of backing out of a guest parking space when I heard the voice again.

  I understand your fear, sweetness, but there's no need for it. A deep, masculine chuckle wormed its way down my spine, like melted chocolate dripped by the most careful of lovers. Though I'm quite happy to find you as feisty as the day we were first parted.

  I refused to engage. I kept my mind as blank as was possible while trying to avoid having a head on collision as I raced through several red lights and stop signs. I was a terrible driver.

  Charlotte was awake again, rubbing her head like she'd just woken from a nightmare. Little did she know we'd just escaped a real one.

  “What the fuck is going on, George? Should you be driving? Gimme your keys.” She crawled between the two front seats and reached out for the ignition. I batted her hand away and ignored her, taking my phone out again and staring at the screen.

  Should I call Corey? I wondered, this time absolutely positive that the inner voice was mine. He doesn't have to know about this? Right? And he didn't. Not really. I mean, he already knew about the hellhound. Corey had been shocked and a little confused, but Amadan had remained indifferent. He was the one I was going to tell. I knew he knew more than he was letting on.

  “Come on Char,” I said, tucking the phone away again. “Let's go file a false police report.”

  It didn't take the wildest stretch of the imagination to believe that two twenty-something women had gotten drunk and that had someone had tried to break in and take advantage of them. The police were rather indifferent to my feigned sobs and Charlotte's confused mumbling though I did manage to get them to go back and check out the apartment before returning my friend home. They promised to keep a patrol circling the area and even got the lazy building manager to fix the dead bolt. I wouldn't have left Char there if I didn't think it was safe, but I knew without a doubt that the man hadn't cared two licks about her.

  He was after me. And I was going to find out why.

  Amadan was waiting in the entryway when I dragged myself through the front door, sagging with relief at the absence of Corey's Silverado.

  “He didn't come back while I was gone, did he?” I asked the frowning fae.

  “No, he didn't.” I tossed my purse onto one of Corey's stupid, decorative side tables that served no purpose other than collecting dust and holding the corpses of forgotten flowers. Not that he ever left them there for long. He liked to replace the bodies with fresh ones as soon as a single petal appeared to be wilting.

  “Good.” I stretched my arms over my head and studied the sidhe. He was wearing cream colored trousers similar to the ones I'd seen him in on our very first meeting but other than that, nothing. The idea of wearing clothes must have been anathema to him. “We need to talk.”

  “Indeed. We do.” I slipped off my heels next to the door and rubbed my tummy as it growled once in protest.

  “Can we do it in the kitchen? I'm starving.” Amadan's teeth pulled back in that weird, lewd grin that made him look crazy as hell but also a little bit sexy.

  “We can do it the kitchen, if that's where you prefer.” I ignored the sexual innuendo in his words and tried not to run to the refrigerator. I hadn't actually managed to make it to the Phish Food ice cream part of Char and my girl time since we'd been so rudely interrupted.

  “Why the fuck is a hellhound chasing me, Amadan?” I asked him casually, like we were discussing the upcoming senatorial elections. I opened the stainless steel refrigerator and wondered why I wasn't absolutely positive that Corey had OCD. Each item was fucking labeled with the purchase date and the date he'd opened it. That's not to say that Corey didn't have his redeeming qualities. I was with him for a reason. Because Rachel caught him riding you bareback in your shared apartment. I checked carefully. That was definitely my subconsciou
s. The man's voice hadn't reappeared since I'd filed the police report.

  “Oh, did something happen while you were away?” Amadan said, coming up to stand so close behind me that I could feel his breath in my hair. I shivered with pleasure and tried to stifle an overwhelming wave of desire. Ever since I'd heard that warm, masculine chuckle resound in my head, I'd been absolutely aching in the downstairs department.

  “Maybe,” I said, bending over and purposefully rubbing my ass along his crotch as I retrieved a head of romaine lettuce from a crisper drawer. “But that depends on your answer to my previous question. I thought we had a thing going, you know, question for a question.”

  Amadan's hands reached forward and took hold of my hips, pulling me tightly against him as I pretended to be interested in the ripeness of a bunch of tomatoes.

  “You're the first of the Gray, Georgie Porgie,” he said with just that hint of crazy in his voice. “There are a lot of people that are going to be looking for you.”

  “Is that why you volunteered to come back here with me?” I asked coyly, tucking the lettuce, tomato, and even a deep, green cucumber under my arm. “To protect me?” I whirled to the left, right out of Amadan's reach and deposited the first of my ingredients onto the polished, concrete counter top.

  “I can't answer that, I'm afraid,” he said, trailing after me like a ghost. He was so light and quick on his feet; it was kind of scary. “Question for a question.” I sighed and pulled a knife from the knife block and a miniature cutting board from below the sink.

  “I went to a friend's house to get some breathing room.” I sliced the end of the cucumber off and popped it into my mouth. Crisp, moist, just a little bitter. Yum. “And some guy with a hellhound on a fucking leash showed up. It wasn't a big deal,” I added, trying to downplay the situation. “I escaped him but … ” Amadan's arms circled my waist and pulled the knife from my hand.

  “What did this 'man' look like?” he asked, biting my earlobe.