To Kill a Fae (Hollowcliff Detectives Book 1)

by C. S. Wilde

  Considering the blatant corruption in the Tir Na Nog precinct, she was wise to doubt them.

  Bast drew a sharp breath, letting it out slowly. “He’s in a bit of a pickle at the moment. Finding Zev Ferris’ killer will help Fallon.” He made an X over his heart. “I guarantee it.”

  “Do you?” She observed Mera for a while, tapping her own chin. “You have something for me, girl?”

  Okay, so she must have noticed Mera’s body language. She couldn’t have known she actually did have something for her.

  In any case, Mera stepped closer and removed her phone from her jacket. She pressed play and put it close to Madam Zukova’s ear.

  After the fortuneteller heard Zev’s recording, she gestured for them to sit on the two chairs that faced her. “Zev was a fool. Good for business, but a fool either way.” Shaking her head, she snorted. “The thing about fools, no? They tend to die before their time.”

  “Can you tell us anything about his death?” Bast pushed.

  “He was in love. He asked if she loved him back.” She shrugged carelessly. “I said the stars witnessed more impossible things. The foggy veil between Danu’s realm and ours is thick, no?”

  What a load of bullcrap.

  Bast exchanged a worried glance with Mera.

  “That’s it?” he asked the seer. “That’s everything you know?”

  She nodded.

  Leaning back in his chair, he slammed both hands on his face. “Back to square one.”

  Madam Zukova raised her hands with a shrug. “I cannot guess what the Summer King was thinking when he recorded that message. I’m seer, not miracle worker.”

  “What if you ask the dead?” Mera offered.

  “I cannot.”

  “Indulge us.”

  The seer couldn’t actually do it. No one could. But maybe Madam Zukova would remember something and claim it had been Zev’s ghost who told her.

  She observed Mera with cunning yellow eyes for a moment, seeing through her intentions. “Say I could peek through Danu’s foggy veil. It’s a pricey effort, yes?”

  “Now we’re talking.” Bast snickered wickedly. “Ten gold coins.”

  She gave them a long grin that made her resemble a fox, then showed them her palm. “Fifty, please.”

  “Twenty.”

  “Fifty.”

  Madam Zukova was perfectly aware she had the upper hand.

  “We’re not paying you one hundred and fifty dollars before you tell us something,” Mera grumbled.

  “Then you may leave.” Madam Zukova showed them the exit. “Do not forget girl, I am a scoundrel, yes?”

  Grunting a curse under his breath, Bast removed a hundred-dollar bill from his pocket and handed it to her. “Make our time worth it and you get the rest.”

  She winced as she grabbed the note, shoving it inside the top of her dress. “Human money is so dirty.” She wiped her fingers on the fabric. “Gold is much cleaner. Prettier too, no?”

  “Yeah, sure,” Mera said. “So, why did Zev think you could help us?”

  “I do not know. I must see first.” Closing her eyes, she relaxed her shoulders.

  The humming of a low tune arose from deep within her chest, a continuing droning sound that had to belong somewhere within the trenches—or the fiery hell most humans feared.

  She suddenly stopped, her body going incredibly still.

  “Treachery of the blood,” she announced. “Poseidon’s child is dead.”

  A shiver coursed down Mera’s spine.

  Poseidon’s child…

  Her mother’s cruel grin flashed in her mind, her voice echoing in Mera’s ears. “You still doubt me, daughter?”

  Mera chortled as she glanced at Bast. “It’s a joke, right?”

  “There was someone named Poseidon in Sara Hyland’s notebook,” he whispered. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but the mad seer gave us a good clue, kitten.”

  Panic overwhelmed Mera’s senses. She wanted to run and never come back, a cold sweat breaking through her pores. This had to be a lie, or a fucking, awful coincidence.

  There’s a logical explanation, she told herself.

  “Analyze what’s before you,” the Captain’s voice echoed in her mind. “Always trust the facts, cookie.”

  Okay. Deep breath.

  Poseidon didn’t exist, so he couldn’t father children.

  Inhale. Exhale.

  Mera shoved her panic deep inside, because she couldn’t afford to lose her mind, especially now.

  She watched Madam Zukova, the old woman’s body stiff as stone.

  Poseidon’s child… The sentence reverberated in her mind nonstop, loud, screeching, until she felt someone pressing her hand.

  “Kitten? You all right?”

  Nodding hastily, she took a settling breath. “Fine.”

  Bast’s incredulous look said he didn’t believe her, but Mera didn’t know what else to say.

  There has to be an explanation.

  There has to be.

  “Treachery of the blood,” Madam Zukova repeated, then went deadly silent for a while.

  Mera was about to ask if she was okay, when the seer inhaled deeply. Turning to Mera, she smiled with her eyes closed. “Is that you, my little fry?”

  Bile thrashed in Mera’s stomach, and she feared she might throw up at any moment. “Whatever you’re doing, stop,” she warned.

  “It is you! My dear princess, I’m so glad!”

  This wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be him. And even if it was, Madam Zukova spoke to the dead, allegedly, which meant…

  No, no, no.

  He couldn’t be dead.

  Mera shook her head, tears brimming in the corner of her eyes. “I have no clue how you’re doing this, you cheap psychic bastard, but—”

  “Don’t blame the messenger,” Madam Zukova frowned, but kept her eyes closed. “It’s me, little fry. Don’t you remember?” She smiled sweetly. “Tell me, my dear. Have you tasted that delicious Moussaka I told you about?”

  “How could you know that!” She bellowed more than asked as she stood from her chair, but the seer didn’t reply.

  Mera held a whimper, breathing becoming harder and harder. She put a hand over her mouth, yet she couldn’t speak, just cry.

  Bast’s jaw was set as he observed Mera and the seer. “Who are you?” he asked.

  Madam Zukova turned to him, her mouth shaping an ‘O’. “You’re not alone, princess?”

  “No,” Mera replied, nearly choking with tears.

  “I see.”

  “Professor,” she dared, a piercing ache spreading in her chest, “is that really you? Are you dead?”

  A loud huff blew through Madam Zukova’s lips. “Nonsense. I’m using Ursula as a channel. We’ve been searching for you for so long… Ever since she had a vision you were alive.”

  Relief washed over Mera. She thanked all Gods everywhere—human, fae, Atlantean, it didn’t matter.

  Bast ogled Mera with suspicion, but she couldn’t come up with an explanation, not now.

  “I-I…” she couldn’t speak. She didn’t know what to say or think. “I’ve missed you so much, but I couldn’t come back. You have to understand. After everything that happened, everything I did, I couldn’t—”

  Madam Zukova leaned forward. “I understand, dear.” A certain gloom took over the seer’s face, and she turned to the side as if listening to someone. Finally, she nodded. “We don’t have much time.” She stood and cupped Mera’s cheek, like she was seeing Mera clearly although her eyelids were shut. “I hope you’re happy there. Happier than you ever were here.”

  She cupped the seer’s hand and pressed it closer. “I am. And I’ll have that moussaka one day.”

  With you, professor. I promise.

  “What a wonderful dream.” Madam Zukova tapped her cheek gently, the way Professor Currenter used to when she was a merling. “Now that I know you’re alive, I can rest. Your friend Belinda will be most pleased to hear about th
is.” The seer’s expression fell, her shoulders dropping. “Before I go, though, promise me you’ll never attempt to come back, my dear.”

  Mera frowned. She wasn’t planning on returning, but something seemed off. “Are you all right?”

  “We’re fine.” Madam Zukova leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “Grow strong, Mera.”

  Fear edged the professor’s tone, she could sense it through the mad seer’s voice.

  “Why?”

  Madam Zukova’s eyes spread so wide Mera could see the golden specks in her yellow irises. She inhaled deeply and bent backwards, like she’d been underwater for a long time.

  Maybe she had been.

  Pointing one quivering finger at Mera, she bent over and coughed. “Remarkable,” she managed, drawing in deep breaths. “Oh, you precious, precious thing.”

  Bast stood, placing himself between them. “Kitten, what’s going on?”

  Mera and the seer exchanged a worried glance, then Madam Zukova swallowed, taking one long, steadying breath.

  “That was her grandfather,” she lied.

  Mera had no clue why the fae was covering for her⸻especially when no favors had been involved⸻but she was grateful, nonetheless.

  Bast frowned. “I thought you were an orphan?”

  “Kind of,” Mera said vaguely, her throat tightening. “I had an abusive mother. I escaped, and never looked back.”

  A world of questions crowded his blue eyes. “But you called him ‘professor’. And he called you princess.”

  “Bast, I can’t go over all of that now.” Her voice came out ragged and weak. “We have to focus on our case.”

  “Mera—”

  “Please?”

  He observed her for a moment, confusion in his stare. Finally, he nodded, respecting the line she’d drawn.

  She couldn’t thank him enough.

  “Treachery of the blood….” Shoving his hands in his pockets, he whistled. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

  She nodded. “We have to pay the Summer Court a visit.”

  Chapter 21

  “We have to be smart,” Mera said as she walked in circles around Bast’s living room. “The light courts own Tir Na Nog. Even if we had hard evidence to arrest Lisandra or Zachary—which we don’t—the moment we enter your precinct with them, we’ll be the ones behind bars.”

  “All fun things are a bit mad,” Bast countered with his eyes closed.

  He sat on the sofa with his legs crossed, hands over his knees. He seemed relaxed and peaceful.

  Mera resented him a little. How could he be so calm, considering what they were about to face?

  “Have you reached Captain Asherath yet?” she asked.

  “Fallon arrived in Clifftown. Your Captain says hi, by the way.”

  “Say hi back.” She slammed both hands on her waist. “Does she know how we can arrest Zev’s murderer and keep them behind bars?”

  He opened his eyes and smiled. “Actually, she does.”

  They knocked on the white wooden door of the Summer King’s penthouse. A pixie with golden hair, and a golden maid’s uniform opened it for them.

  “Could you fetch your missus?” Bast asked. “Tell her it’s urgent.”

  The pixie gave him a short curtsy and went away. Not ten seconds passed before queen bitch stormed into the vast living room in a knee-length golden dress, her nostrils flared, her cheeks a rosy red that nearly matched the color of her hair.

  “How dare you step into my home unannounced!” She pointed a finger at Bast, ignoring Mera’s presence. “Is Captain Cane aware you’re here?”

  “Solomon is not my Captain,” Bast replied simply, removing a pair of cuffs from his pocket. “And you, Lisandra Ferris, are under arrest for your husband’s murder.”

  She gaped at them. “What?”

  Bast went to put on the cuffs, but she waved him away, angry golden sparkles whipping in the air between them. “Don’t you dare, Sebastian.”

  He rubbed the bridge of his nose, then flicked his hand. A circle of void blinked from thin air, and it sucked in the golden sparkles at once. The darkness remained, hanging midair as stars glittered against the void.

  A silent threat.

  Lisandra gulped, and when Bast moved to cuff her again, she didn’t put up a fight.

  As soon as the cuffs locked shut, an iron pin clicked away from the surface and touched her skin, voiding her magic—a cleverly made device that allowed faeries to arrest other fae without losing their own power in the process.

  “Are you daft?” Lisandra wriggled against the cuffs as if regretting her decision to comply, but it was pointless now. “You dare barge into my house and accuse me of my husband’s murder!” The high pitch in her tone pierced Mera’s ears. “That’s illegal!”

  “Considering how your court runs this borough,” Mera said, “you have no fucking clue of what illegal means, lady.”

  She snorted. “This is ridiculous. I’ll see that you pay for this, human! As for you, Prince of Night, I’ll have your head on a platter come morning!”

  Bast raised an eyebrow at Mera. “That sounds a lot like contempt to authority, doesn’t it, Detective Maurea?”

  “It sure does, Detective Dhay.”

  “I guess I’ll add it to the murder charge.”

  Lisandra screamed, her head puffing in anger. “How dare you!”

  “What’s going on?” Zachary stepped into the living room.

  His straight hair was disheveled and his shirt open. A blue-skinned sprite with black hair followed him, and when she saw the scene, she scurried out of the apartment.

  Mera raised her gun with one hand, taking the cuffs from inside her jacket with the other. “Zachary Ferris, you are under arrest for your father’s murder.”

  He stepped back with a confused frown. “Are you out of your minds? You can’t arrest us. You have no evidence!”

  “Oh, we’ve got evidence,” she assured. “I strongly advise you to comply.”

  “You do?” Realization dawned on him, and his shocked demeanor morphed into nonchalance. “You went to the mad seer. I hardly see how a psychic’s words qualify as evidence.”

  Bingo.

  “Quiet, Zachary!” Lisandra ordered.

  “I’m curious.” He strolled around the living room as if Mera didn’t have an iron bullet aimed at his head. “What did Madam Zukova tell you?”

  “That you did it,” Bast baited him, holding a bewildered Lisandra by her arm.

  “That’s easy,” he shrugged. “Did she tell you why?”

  Lisandra stopped trying to break free. “Zachary, what are you talking about?”

  “I killed Father.” He admitted carelessly. “It was bad enough that he cheated on you with everything that had curves. But when I found out he was keeping his pregnant, human whore here, in our court—right under our noses—I had to do something.” He ran a hand over his hair. “The scandal alone…”

  Bast had been so right about that giant asshole.

  “It was for the best,” Zachary explained. “With my leadership, we’ll break ties with those abominable humans and take over Tir Na Nog, then Hollowcliff. Soon, Tagrad will belong to the fittest and strongest.” His eyes glinted wickedly as he focused on Mera. “The courts will rule the land, and humans will be our slaves.”

  “Ah, so it wasn’t just about the scandal. It was also a coup,” Bast concluded, his tone flat. “Call me impressed. Let me guess, Autumn and Spring happily approve your ascendance to the Summer throne.”

  Zachary watched him with amusement. “Of course they do. We run this city, Dhay. And your precinct.”

  Mera clicked her gun and wiggled the cuffs with her free hand, throwing them on the sofa for him. “Do me a favor and cuff yourself, will you?”

  “Afraid I’ll use magic against you, Detective?” The tip of his tongue licked his lips, taunting her.

  “Just keeping a safe distance. You are a murderous bastard, after all.” She nodded to her own g
un. “I don’t need to tell you these are iron bullets, right?”

  “You don’t.” He glanced at the cuffs as he calmly sat on the sofa. “In my defense, at the time I thought the child was my father’s.” Crossing his arms, he sighed. “Foolish, I’ll admit. I was taken by rage and couldn’t think straight. I’m sure you know what that’s like, don’t you, Dhay?”

  Bast ignored his attempt of getting under his skin. “You can use that argument in your trial, but I call it bullshit. Now, why did you drown Sara Hyland?”

  “You won’t believe me if I tell you.”

  Narrowing his eyes, Bast cocked his head to the right. “Try me.”

  “I followed her one day, ready to end her before things got out of hand,” he answered carefully. Slowly. “She went to the beach and stood on the sand, watching the waves. I approached from behind, but she didn’t notice my presence. I was about to grab her when she yelled into the ocean, ‘You can’t have my baby!’”

  Mera felt as if she were falling within herself. Poseidon’s child rang in her head repeatedly.

  “Did she seem mentally unstable to you?” Bast prodded.

  It was a possibility. One Mera had to believe in, because the alternative… the alternative didn’t make any sense.

  “Unstable? No. Simply a gold-digging whore, trying to scam my father.” His long fingers brushed his chin thoughtfully, as he stared out of the open archways that led into the outside balcony. “For a split second, I could swear I spotted a silver stingray with neon-blue eyes watching her from the water. But then I blinked, and it was gone.” He clicked his tongue. “Pity, really. I would have enjoyed capturing it.”

  Mera might’ve lost the ability to breathe altogether.

  Mother’s technology…

  Someone was using it to communicate with Sara Hyland.

  Zachary stood and went to a golden table. He poured an amber liquid from a fine crystal bottle into a glass.

  “That’s when I heard it, of course.” After taking a long gulp, he hissed through his teeth. “It wasn’t like a thought; it was as if someone else talked to me with my own voice.” He raised his glass at Bast. “Your kind is good with mind tricks, but this… this puts your abilities to shreds. I can’t say how I knew someone spoke to me, I just did. Which meant I had lost my mind, but who cares? There have been mad kings before.”