The Shattered Dark sr-2

by Sandy Williams

  A human woman is walking toward us, so I stifle my response and follow as Lorn leads the way around the row of connected stores. Once we’re on the front side of the strip mall, he points to the corner retail space. The sign above the door is simple: it’s plain white with the words A Taste of Ether written in a sophisticated cursive script. Sunlight reflects off the store’s glass windows, making it difficult to see inside. The only thing I can make out for sure is a few wooden crates in the windows.

  “Is this a wine store?” I ask, thinking there might be an arrangement of bottles sitting on top of those crates.

  Lorn nods. “A human named Sara works here. Don’t let her know what you are. She’ll be absolutely furious.”

  “She knows about the fae?” I ask, surprised.

  “She has the Sight.”

  “Really?” I stare at the storefront again, trying to see inside. I know the five other humans who are working with the rebels. None of them is named Sara. Could this be one of Atroth’s humans? I only knew a few of them. She could be working for the remnants now or—

  “Don’t get any ideas,” Lorn says, eyeing me. “This is another reason I’m not going through Lena. Sara isn’t some stray waiting around to be recruited. She’s mine.”

  There’s a warning in his voice. It’s completely unnecessary. If she’s not helping the remnants, I’m not about to pull her into the war. I wish I hadn’t been pulled into it. I want nothing to do with the death and the violence, but I’ve been involved too long to just walk away. I care about too many people now, and I have too many mistakes to account for.

  “A Sighted human is working in a wine store?” I ask Lorn. King Atroth wouldn’t have ever allowed this; he’d see it as a waste of her talent.

  “Profit, my dear,” he responds, his tone lightening. “Nobles love their luxuries, and your world produces a delicious grape. I’ve tried transporting the vines to my farms, but our soil doesn’t have the depth and personality that yours does.”

  I slant him a glance. “You have farms?”

  “Vast areas of fertile land suitable for the raising of crops and livestock? Yes. I have several.”

  I try picturing Lorn as a farmer and fail.

  “What do you grow?” I ask.

  “Cows.”

  “Cows?”

  “All quite illegal, in fact.”

  “You have illegal cows?”

  “I do,” he says with a pleased smile. “And the Realm hasn’t imploded yet.”

  Obviously, Lorn isn’t concerned with damaging the Realm’s magic. It’s mostly the high nobles and extremely conservative fae who want to keep human goods and culture out of their world. King Atroth appeased them, ordering his people to arrest merchants who were caught with human goods or with anchor-stones that were imprinted with Earth-based locations. The only exception, of course, was for his own swordsmen who had to escort Sighted humans through the In-Between. But I guess I shouldn’t be surprised Lorn didn’t follow the rules.

  “Maybe Lena will lift the ban on nontech human goods,” I say.

  “I should hope not.” Lorn gives me a look of exaggerated horror. “Wine and cows won’t be worth half as much if she does.”

  Sometimes, I think Lorn is a halfway-decent fae being. Other times, I think he’s exactly as selfish as he seems.

  Lorn taps a finger on the sketchbook I have tucked under my arm. “Make sure your map of Aylen’s shadows is accurate. I’ll fissure inside as soon as she leaves.”

  “I want Paige’s location first.”

  “I’m sure you do,” he says. “But that’s not the way I work. I’ll give you her location after you read the shadows.”

  I cross my arms. “I don’t even know if you really have her location.”

  “So little trust,” he says, tsking. “I always keep my word.”

  I let out a sigh. He better know where she is. “How long until the fae shows up?”

  “No idea. Could be in ten minutes. Could be in a few hours.”

  “And I’m just supposed to hang around until then?”

  “Yes.”

  I roll my eyes. “What am I supposed to say when Sara asks why I’m there?”

  Lorn smiles. “You’ll figure something out.”

  NINE

  A BELL ABOVE the door chimes when I walk in. Sara is younger than I am, early twenties probably, and wearing black slacks and a burgundy top with ruffled sleeves. She has a creamy, dark complexion—African-American and maybe a hint of something else? Bottles of red wine are in neat rows on the shelf in front of her, but she straightens them anyway, making sure each label faces out, before she turns to me.

  “Can I help you with…something?” Her tone changes drastically after she takes in my T-shirt and ripped jeans, and about that same time, I realize this isn’t some little Podunk wine store.

  I swear there’s not one trace of dust on the bottles, and each display has been set up with meticulous care. There’s a lot of floor space, and more than one bottle has a small table to itself in the middle of the floor. Those bottles might as well have spotlights on them. They’re displayed in small wooden boxes and cradled in a bed of black shredded paper. I don’t see a price tag anywhere in the store. That’s a flashing sign that says I can’t afford this stuff.

  So, what am I supposed to say to her? I look around the store, searching for an idea.

  “I got in a fight with my boyfriend,” I say. It’s the only thing I can think of to explain my ripped jeans and the dried blood on my knee. “Do you mind if I hang out here for a while? Just to be sure he’s gone?”

  She folds her arms, cocks her hip. “I assume he’s your ex-boyfriend?”

  “Soon to be, yeah. Definitely.”

  Her posture becomes much more casual. “Then, honey, you can stay here as long as you want.”

  “Thanks.” I pretend to stare out the window, looking for the asshole who skinned my knee. After a couple of minutes pass, I see Sara’s reflection approaching behind me.

  “Here,” she says, handing me a glass of red wine. “You look like you need to relax.”

  That’s an understatement.

  She looks out the window. “Is he out there?”

  I take a sip of the wine. “I think I saw his truck a second ago.”

  “Should I call the cops?”

  “No.” I cough. “No. That’s okay. I’m sure he’ll go away soon.” Before she asks more about my imaginary ex-boyfriend, I ask, “Do you own this place?”

  She takes a sip of her wine, then shakes her head. “Not yet.”

  The bell above the door jingles, and a man walks in. Sara gives me an inquiring look, and I shake my head no. That’s not the ex.

  She helps him pick out the perfect wine for his anniversary. Another customer comes in after him, and she helps him, too. While she’s working, I nurse my wine. Half an hour passes. I think Sara is getting annoyed, but just when I think she’s about to kick me out, my skin prickles.

  Sara definitely has the Sight. She tenses when the fissure cuts through the air. The woman who emerges is about my height, which is short for a fae. She’s not wearing jaedric, just a turquoise tunic over fitted black pants. The pants are tucked inside a pair of black boots that are embroidered with a pattern of gold half circles and diamonds. The design matches the scabbard holding her sword at her left hip. I’m surprised to see the name-cord in her hair. I wish I knew what kind of stones they were. If I did, I might be able to place where she’s from, but I don’t think I’ve seen these before. They’re two different shades of red with smaller black stones that might be onyx between them.

  The fingers of my right hand start to tingle. I want to sketch the shadows, but they always tell me a fae’s exit point, not where they’ve come from, and since I already know where we are, there’s no need to draw out their curves and angles. Plus, I don’t want to get caught staring at something I’m not supposed to be able to see. I down the rest of the wine to distract myself and try not to make a face when
it tickles my nose.

  “Finished?” Sara asks, her tone clearly saying she wants me out of there. I can empathize. I hate trying to communicate with fae when Sightless humans are around.

  I hand her the empty glass. “I think my ex is gone, but can I use the restroom?”

  She presses her lips together. I think I’m going to have to find another excuse to stay, but finally, she says sure and points to a back room.

  “Thanks,” I say. The restroom is on the left side of the storeroom. I open and shut the door without going inside, making sure it’s loud enough for her to hear, then I tiptoe back to the open doorway of the storeroom and listen. I don’t really care to hear what they say; I just have to be able to see Aylen’s shadows when she fissures out.

  “Quick,” Sara says. “Before she gets back.”

  I peek around the doorframe, see Aylen tip open a draw-stringed pouch. Strands of gold slide out. Necklaces. Thin bracelets. A couple of plain rings. If Sara makes deals like this with fae often, she must be making a fortune.

  “It’s behind the counter,” Sara says.

  Aylen nods. She opens a fissure as she walks behind the register, but it’s not until after she bends down to pick up a crate of six bottles that I realize this isn’t going to work. Half her shadows will be hidden behind the counter when she fissures out.

  My sketchbook is already open and I’m halfway across the store when she disappears. Sara’s back is to me, so I give in to the urge to scratch down what I see. A swoop of black tinged with shades of gray fades in and out in the upper part of my vision. Aylen’s gone to a coastal city. I’ve drawn the waves on the top of the page, so she’s on the southern edge of a body of water.

  I turn to the next page, draw a craggy spine down the left side of the page. She’s gone to Criskan Province. There’s a city that’s bordered by mountains to the west and the Daric Ocean to the north. It’s called…

  I frown, trying to recall my mental map of the Realm. I don’t have every single city memorized, but this is a major port town with a gorgeous beach and a dense population. I should know it.

  I close my eyes. I’m going to have to remember the name of that damn city before Lorn will give me Paige’s location. What is it?

  “You didn’t flush.”

  My eyes snap open. Sara is standing directly in front of me.

  “What?”

  “The toilet,” she says. “It sounds like a tornado when it flushes. You didn’t flush.”

  “Oh. Um.” I look over my shoulder at the opening to the storeroom. “Sorry, I’ll—”

  Her gaze drops to the sketchbook in my hand. My map is a mess of wavy lines and lopsided trees, but it’s clear she knows exactly what it is. She looks at my drawing, then up at me, then over to where the fae disappeared, then back at my drawing.

  “Son of a bitch,” she says. “Who the hell are you?”

  Well, crap. The game is up. Might as well be polite.

  “I’m McKenzie,” I say, holding out my hand for her to shake. She doesn’t take it.

  “Who sent you?” she demands.

  As if on cue, a fissure opens to my left.

  “Lorn,” Sara all but snarls when he steps out of the light. “You brought her here?”

  “She didn’t stumble upon you all by herself,” he says, staring at the map, not at her. “Where is this?”

  Good question. I still can’t remember the name of the city.

  “It’s at the northern part of the Jythia Mountains,” I say. “The big city on the coast?”

  He glances up at me, then stares down at the map. “This is Eksan?”

  That’s it. “Yeah. That’s where she went.”

  Lorn raises an eyebrow, waiting. He’s probably memorized at least one location in Eksan, but he needs me to say the city’s name out loud to have any chance of fissuring close to where Aylen did, and I’m not about to name it. Not yet.

  “My customers trust me, Lorn,” Sara cuts in. “They don’t expect to be stalked by their competition.”

  Lorn laughs. “Aylen is hardly any competition for me.” He turns to me. “Now, name the city.”

  “Don’t,” Sara says, her fists clenched at her sides. “My business is none of your business.”

  “No one will know I tracked her from here. The city, McKenzie.”

  “Tell me where Paige is first.”

  His lips flatten into a thin line.

  “You gave me your word,” I remind him. “And you always keep your word.”

  “I promised to give you her location,” he says. “And I will. Just as soon as I learn where that location is.”

  He doesn’t know. Damn it.

  Sara hmmphs as if I should have known better. I did know better. I came here on a gamble that didn’t pay out, but I’d do it again. I’d do it again because I owe it to Paige.

  “The deal is off,” I tell Lorn.

  “The deal is not off,” he says, a warning slipping into his tone. “You have ten seconds. If you don’t name the city, I’ll leave you stranded here and your kimki stranded in Las Vegas, and you’ll never find your friend.”

  “You’re not my only option,” I say.

  “If I don’t want you to find her, you won’t find her. Five seconds.”

  I grit my teeth. I don’t know if he can see that threat through, but I definitely don’t want to make him my enemy. “You swear you’ll try to find her?”

  “I do.”

  Another second passes. I curse, then finally relent. “Eksan.”

  Lorn gives me a curt nod as he tugs at the cuffs of his sleeves. “I’ll let the rebels know where to find you. Have a good day, ladies.”

  Shadows fill the space he occupied. I squeeze my eyes shut until my hands stop itching to draw them. When I reopen them, I’m able to focus on Sara.

  She glares at me through the twisting shadows. “Get the hell out of my store.”

  TEN

  I’M NOT ABOUT to rely on Lorn to send a fae back to get me, so I ask a man on the street to use his cell phone. Unfortunately, Shane isn’t at the suite when I call. I leave a message telling him where I am, but I don’t know if he’ll notice the tiny red light on the hotel phone when he gets in.

  At least Lorn stranded me in my world, not the Realm. I blend in here, and if my bank account weren’t at zero, I’d have the option of booking a flight back to Vegas. I suppose if worse comes to worst, I can go into my overdraft protection. I shouldn’t have to, though. Either Lorn will keep his word and send a fae for me, or I can stake out Sara’s wine store until another fae shows up. I might be able to talk whoever it is into fissuring me to Corrist on the promise that they’ll be well paid if they do.

  So, I decide to spend the rest of the afternoon at the cafe two doors down. It has outside seating, and I have just enough change in my pocket to order a cup of coffee. That ends up being a mistake. It makes me jittery. I’m no closer to finding Paige, and with each passing minute, I worry more about her and about what’s happening back at the palace.

  An hour passes. Then another. I flip through Naito’s sketchbook. Two more pictures of Kelia are sketched on its pages. One of them is in the corner of a shadow-reading. Naito’s ten times the artist I am, but his maps look like a child’s scribbles just like mine do. I wish I knew where this one leads to—he’s drawn an elaborate frame around the entire page, so it’s probably somewhere important—but shadow-readers can’t decipher anyone’s maps but their own.

  I miss Kelia. It’s weird, admitting that. I only knew her for a few weeks, but we were close to being friends. I think she was honest with me, and I think we’d get along well if she were still alive. I could ask her about Aren. I miss him, don’t know if I’m doing the right thing with him. I don’t know him any better than I did two weeks ago. For us to work out, we need to spend time together, time where we’re not running for our lives or tracking somebody. Not for the first time, I wonder if it’s a bad idea to try to start a relationship right now.

 
Sara locks up the wine store. I think about following her, but a flicker of blue light in the corner of my vision catches my attention. It’s Trev. The last time I saw him was yesterday back at my apartment. Blood was gushing from a bad leg wound then. Aren or Lena must have healed him because he’s not even limping now.

  He doesn’t see me until I close Naito’s sketchbook and stand. His gaze travels down to my feet, then back up. “You’re not injured?”

  A couple is sitting at one of the other tables, so I just shake my head, tuck the sketchbook under my arm, and start walking.

  “How did you find me?” I ask when I’m far enough away.

  “The kimki,” Trev says. “He came to the palace with an anchor-stone and your name tied around his neck.”

  Looks like Lorn kept part of his promise. Maybe he’ll keep the rest of it and find out where Paige is.

  Trev increases his pace. I’m barely able to keep up. It’s annoying—he knows humans are slower than fae—but I don’t complain. Trev isn’t my biggest fan. He puts up with me when he has to, but he’s never exactly liked me. I helped the king hunt down his friends and family. Like most of the rebels, he has a reason to resent me. Those reasons didn’t disappear just because I joined their side of this war.

  My feet are sore, but I jog to catch up with him when I fall too far behind. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

  He glances my way for a whole half second. “Lena healed me.”

  I frown, then realize he’s talking about the remnants’ attack at my old apartment. He almost bled to death because of me.

  “No, not for that,” I say, then I grimace. “Well, yeah, for that, too. But I’m sorry for what happened before I met you. I didn’t know everything that was going on.”

  “You’re forgiven, of course,” he says. His accent makes it difficult to pick up the sarcasm in his tone, but I’m certain it’s there.

  I don’t jog to catch up with him when I fall behind this time. He can either slow down, or I’ll meet him at the gate. That’s where we’re heading. I’ve never been to Nashville before, but I’ve seen Atroth’s maps of the U.S., and while I haven’t memorized every single gate known to exist in this country—there are way too many to keep track of—I do remember one being on the lake to the east of the city. I’m pretty sure the highway up ahead runs to the west of it.