Tempting Ballad

by Katherine McIntyre

  “Oh no,” Jett muttered, running a hand through his dark strands. Even still, he kept close behind. Renn stomped over to the nearest redcap and then signaled for the other one. He prayed the other members of the band watched them and could piece together what he attempted. Otherwise this plan would fail miserably.

  “What’s wrong?” the man asked, his voice rough and his teeth bared.

  “I just saw several folks slip back there,” Renn said, pointing for the door. “Wearing all black, smelling like humans. I didn’t realize the Harrods invited hunters into the party.”

  The redcap glowered at him, crossing his arms over his chest. “There aren’t any hunters in here.”

  Renn shook his head. “I know what I saw. Want me to show you?” He started to walk in the direction of the door, knowing the redcap would follow if only to keep an eye on him. Jett slunk close by, his lips pressed in a way that looked concerned to anyone else. Renn caught the subtle slip of a smile. While he walked, he slipped his hand into his pocket. Renn noticed the other redcap jogging to catch up with them in his peripheral. Good. He kept his quick pace until he clapped a hand on the cold knob, his veins humming.

  No time like the present.

  He brought the door open and plunged into the dim corridor. The moment he stepped a few paces in, he spun around to face the two redcap guards. Jett brought the door closed with a creak behind him, trapping the four of them into close quarters.

  Renn whipped his fist out, his copper brass knuckles slipped on. Before the redcap could react, the metal bit into the side of his face and sizzled. The man let out a low grunt of pain, and his knee shot forward. Renn tried to step back, but the blow struck him right in the solar plexus. He wheezed, staggering back a few paces.

  Jett was already tangling with the other guard. The siren slashed out with knives while the other redcap deftly dodged.

  The door creaked open behind them.

  Renn swung again. The redcap grabbed his arm before the hit landed, his massive fist covering half of his forearm.

  The big behemoth of a guy wrenched up, straining Renn’s arm socket. He gritted his teeth together hard and kicked forward, his hooves digging into those meaty thighs. A thump sounded from behind the redcap, causing him to loosen his grip. Renn yanked his arm back and stepped away, righting himself.

  The redcap swung around to face the new intruder. He’d only made it halfway when a bullet whizzed through his skull. It zipped into the back wall behind them, taking chunks of plaster out in the process.

  The redcap swayed for a moment, and then he dropped. Ky and Liz stood behind him, Liz still brandishing her Beretta. Hunters could be scary as shit, even without the years of dogma and intensive training.

  Danica and Trevor joined Jett in subduing the other guard. They’d either knocked him out or killed him in the process of getting him to the ground. Either way, their copper weapons caused the skin to bubble on the Unseelie fighters, and both of the big beaters weren’t responsive.

  Trev shot him a look. “What happened to subtle?”

  Renn shrugged. “You know with us that was never going to happen.”

  “Come on,” Ky said, lifting the nearest guard under the armpits. “Let’s get these guys out of sight and explore.”

  Renn stepped to the other side and grabbed him by the legs. Together they hoisted the man to the nearest guest room, all spartan sheets and a small desk in the corner. They dropped him on the opposite side of the bed. With a grunt, Trevor dropped the other redcap next to him, and Jett let go of his grip. Danica and Liz waited by the door, keeping watch.

  “Where to next?” Ky looked to him this time.

  The pressure of everyone’s gazes bore down on him. He and Leo had discussed the Harrod’s mansion in detail though. He could do this.

  Renn pushed up from his crouch and strode to the door, past the girls. “Follow me.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Socializing among the upper tiers of fae society became a necessity in his position, but Leo Kincaid could never truly say he enjoyed these frivolous functions, even if he excelled at them. Marisa had already slunk off to greet a Seelie family she recognized, and Claude had gotten into a conversation with a naga hanging out by the table of canapes and hunks of marbled and dripping raw meat.

  Leo strode to the opposite side of the room, trying to make his presence known by appearance alone. It took every ounce of willpower to not look in the direction where Renn and the others headed. Worry thrummed beneath his chest with every breath, but they’d said their goodbyes—now they both had their tasks to complete.

  Still, it didn’t help when Renn looked at him with sadness and desperation, as if he wouldn’t be bolting once this ended. Leo needed to get his head in the game. He snagged a flute of distilled moonlight, the liquid emitting an ethereal glow. He brought the glass to his lips and surveyed the room. Redcap guards stood at every entrance, and several patrolled in and out of the doors lining the place. There were enough of the big bastards to subdue their ragged crew in a matter of minutes.

  Leo continued striding through the crowd, heading toward the far wall and taking careful sips of liquid moonlight along the way. Once he reached the other side, he caught sight of a familiar face. She leaned against the wall and watched the crowd, so he sidled up beside her.

  “Lenore, it’s been ages,” he murmured, broadcasting his voice. “How is your family?”

  The slender kelpie met his eyes and nodded, a knowing in her gaze. Her eyes burned like near-spent coals. “Leo Kincaid, fancy meeting a respectable businessman like yourself at one of these events.”

  He held her gaze. “Come now, even respectable businessmen need an escape every once in a while. Don’t suppose you have any better avenues to recommend?”

  Her lips curled in a quiet smile. “I could think of a few.”

  From across the room, he caught sight of Claude trying to snare his gaze. He followed the man’s look to spot Hollins carving his way through the crowd with a similar posse of hobgoblins to the ones who surrounded him the other night. The man surveyed the room like a buffet—though with the propensity for violence at redcap functions, it most likely was.

  “Excuse me,” Leo murmured, resting a hand on Lenore’s shoulder. “I’ve got to go introduce myself.”

  She patted her hand over his before letting go. He slid past her and strode toward Jareth Hollins and his retinue, each step with premeditated purpose. Now was the time to distract the squat hobgoblin while the Discord’s Desire crew rummaged around in their lower rooms.

  Another familiar woman strolled by and tapped his shoulder, passing him by. Leo offered her a polite grin and a nod, but he didn’t stop his stride.

  At the heart of years of planning and attempting to control the outcomes, Leo had learned several important lessons.

  First, that most plans would shatter like a crowbar to glass in the middle of an operation.

  And second, that people could always, always surprise you.

  Leo strode closer to Hollins, the stench of the hobgoblin wafting his way, though barely distinguishable among the metallic scent of the blood fountains burbling around them. These sorts of macabre decorations would never be tolerated at a Seelie Court function, because his alignment claimed to be the civilized one. Yet both committed abhorrent atrocities—one just clung to illusion of civility a little bit harder.

  He steeled himself as he came to a halt in front of Jareth. They’d arrived tonight not just to free those being imprisoned and used—they were taking the next steps to freeing the fae and hunters alike from the war their corrupt hierarchies trapped them in.

  He would bring his mother and father justice, even if this path cost him his life.

  “Jareth, pleasure to see you here,” Leo said, offering a hand.

  Hollins met his gaze and shook, the callused, knobby hand gripping his tight.

  Claude wove his way through the throngs of guests to stand by his side.

  “I hal
f-believed you wouldn’t show,” Jareth responded, a knowing glint in his gimlet eyes. “The reputable Seelie businessman making waves in the homes of one of the strongest Unseelie families? Word will travel.”

  “Reputation among Courts is a fluid thing ever since the Accords shattered,” Leo responded, flashing a grin. “And with the kind offer you made, how could I refuse?”

  Hollins nodded, casting an amused glance to one of his cronies. “I suppose you enjoyed your previous purchase well enough?”

  Leo glanced at his nails, feigning lack of interest. “I did show up here, didn’t I?” He caught Hollins’ smirk in response. Come on, come on. They needed to draw his attention elsewhere.

  “I’ve heard word you have other varieties available?” Claude interrupted, joining in on the conversation. Leo resisted the urge to jab Claude in the side. He’d been hoping to circle around the topic rather than drive right in.

  Hollins cast a wary glance to him and then gave the room a cursory sweep. No one paid too close attention to them. “Why don’t we have this conversation in private?” he asked, tilting his head toward the side doors Leo noticed redcap guards entering and exiting from. Out of all the big brutes, he hadn’t spotted Jericho Harrod yet, but he’d been keeping his attention trained for the man’s entrance.

  “Lead the way,” Leo responded, gesturing ahead.

  Hollins tapped the shoulder of two of his associates, and they tailed behind him.

  Leo shared a glance with Marisa who slipped off to mingle among the other socialites. His sister would maintain her spot as their eyes and ears while he and Claude played distraction.

  After losing their mother, she seemed more determined than ever—maybe even more than him. Tonight was about family—about justice for those who’d gotten their loved ones ripped away from them too early due to the pettiness of bored fae nobles looking for a new high.

  Leo followed Hollins toward the first door to the right, an ornate crimson one with black embellishes and an onyx knob. Everything in this manor was ostentatious and loud. Claude followed close behind him, casting a nervous glance back. Guaranteed, the selkie regretted coming here in the first place.

  Hollins brought the door open, and one by one, they each entered.

  The place reeked of heavy incense, as if it stood a chance at masking the scent of burning flesh coming from the fireplace in the far back of the room. What once was a body—a carcass of some sort—sat in the center, roasting amid the golden flames. Comfortable armchairs were stationed throughout the room, and a few select individuals loitered by the fireplace.

  Leo recognized everyone at once—all upper tier members of the Unseelie Courts. At the armchair closest to the fireplace sat the man he’d been looking into for a while now.

  Jericho Harrod leaned back in his chair, his massive hands hanging over the ends of the arms. His jagged claws glinted in the amber light of the fire beside him, which also reflected over his sharp, sharp teeth. The man was as big as any of the linebacker guards patrolling the grounds, and his robust red skin appeared darker than wine in this dim light. His gaze settled on Leo, and his grin widened as if he could see right through him.

  Leo repressed his shudder and maintained his mask as he surveyed the others in the room.

  “I see you’ve brought us new friends, Jareth,” Jericho said, his rich voice drawing attention. Claude took a step in closer to Leo in response. “More potential patrons?”

  “That all depends on what’s involved in said patronage,” Leo said, taking a few steps forward to shorten the distance. He tilted his head in a nod. “Leo Kincaid, pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

  Jericho’s gaze swung his way, and those blood red eyes drilled right through him. This man didn’t just see Kincaid, CEO and business owner. He saw him.

  Leo’s alarm bells clanged. Something must have gone wrong, whether he slipped on a detail or extended his reach a little too far. He and Claude needed to get out of here.

  A click sounded from the door they’d entered through. Leo glanced behind, the hands he kept tucked in his pockets balling into fists. A redcap guard stepped inside, bringing the door closed behind him.

  “Leo Kincaid,” Jericho said, as if he rolled the name across his tongue to taste. “We’ve heard plenty about you. One of our investors in particular had quite a bit of insight into your proclivities.”

  “And what might those be?” Leo asked, forcing his voice level, despite the way his mind began to whir. He clung to his mask, staring the man down unblinking.

  Jericho brought his gaze past him. “Why don’t you share the details of our discussion, Claude?”

  Leo followed his gaze to the selkie standing right beside him. The moment his gaze landed on Claude, his stomach dropped to subterranean depths. Guilt flashed clear as daylight in Claude’s dark eyes before he tightened his lips together and looked away.

  Oh, fuck.

  The room could’ve opened into a chasm and swallowed him whole and he still wouldn’t register any difference. Claude had been one of his oldest friends, his closest confidants. Even if distance had grown between them, he believed the bonds they’d established could withstand a temporary speed bump.

  Not now.

  Leo had met Claude years ago at one of the Seelie Court social events, and they’d talked late into the night. After seeing the spark of dissatisfaction with the status quo burning in this man’s eyes, he’d wanted Claude on his side. They’d spent late night planning sessions binging on coffee and outlandish ideas, and he’d traveled the globe with Marisa and Claude. The man’s subtle humor and wry comments had floated him through more difficult periods than he could count.

  And yet right on the precipice of enacting the very revolution they’d worked toward, Claude had abandoned them.

  Claude had betrayed him.

  Leo ignored Jericho’s smirk and focused on Claude. “Why?” It was all he asked. The word sounded calm, but his calves tensed, the urge to bolt rising. Not like he could go anywhere—Jericho’s crew outnumbered him by far, and the one man he’d thought of as a brother had sold him out. At this point, he could only watch Jericho’s next steps unfold.

  Claude glanced to him and then fast looked away. “I tried to tell you to stay away from this one, Leo. They’re none of your business. My family’s worked with them for years on this.”

  Leo’s mouth dropped open, as if he might spew the acerbic words that rose to his lips. However, they’d be wasted on this traitor. “Right.”

  Apparently, he’d been a terrible judge of character. Claude had been involved in this disgusting trade from the start. He’d worked with some shitty people in the past, Tymarch Alberich especially, to reach his goals. However, at the end of the day, he always knew where his allegiance lay.

  Claude’s wasn’t with him—not anymore.

  Jericho tilted his head in a signal, and the floorboards creaked behind him as Hollins and the other men approached.

  “Perfect timing, my friend,” Jericho said, his unblinking gaze not leaving him. “We were looking for a yaksha to add to our collection.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Stealth operations were for the birds, or at least for fae who didn’t have hooves and short attention spans. The temptation to soar down the corridor screaming at the top of his lungs reared in a big way, if only to distract from the bubble of hope that kept rising in his chest.

  As if they might find Belle somehow alive.

  Renn led the way through the corridor and headed down the first stairwell they found. The bottom floor looked like most of the others they’d strolled through, long corridors, tons of closed doors, and antique, flickering lights in sconces made from bones lining the way.

  “You’d think they’d be considerate enough to mark off the spot with big flashing lights,” Ky muttered behind him.

  The floorboards creaked under Renn’s step, and every stray sound had him freezing on the spot. This far away from the main party, he didn’t stand much of
a chance at summoning explanations if anyone found them here.

  “With your lot’s skill at stealth, it’s a miracle the entire country can’t hear you stomp through,” Danica murmured, amusement in her voice. She picked up her pace until she walked in step with him. The leannan sidhe had a sharp look in her eyes as she scrutinized the carpeting. “While you’re prancing though, note the heavier tread on the carpet here.” She pointed down to a few spots where the carpet appeared a shade lighter from wear and tear. “We just need to follow this trail and it’ll lead us to the right spot.”

  “How did we ever function without you, D?” Liz asked, slinking up behind them. Trevor and Jett clung to the rear of the group, continuing to glance back in search of anyone who might try to follow.

  Renn flexed his fingers, the copper knuckles looped through. The second an intruder stepped from one of the doors they passed, he’d knock them out. Best way possible to burn some of this energy broiling through him. In this part of the manor, the air hung heavy with a sickly-sweet scent that hadn’t existed a floor up. His stomach twisted, yet he continued to push forward.

  Each step down the corridor brought all of those memories teeming to the surface. The scent of roses that always lingered around Belle, the secret escapades they’d sneak off to when Court life got too stifling.

  But also the darkness of her empty room and how within mere weeks, his parents had cleared it of any sign of their daughter, as if she’d never existed.

  He’d always suspected, but it was after Belle’s disappearance that he understood how truly little he meant to his folks. How little she’d meant.

  “What’s the plan when we get there?” Jett asked from the back.

  “Free whoever’s locked up, torch the place, and get the fuck out,” Renn muttered.

  “Sounds like my kind of plan,” Ky responded behind him.

  A rustling sounded from one of the rooms they passed by, and Renn froze in mid-stride. Liz bumped into him, but she didn’t let out a squeak. He recognized the unmistakable creak of bedsprings.