I loosed a sigh, focusing on the street ahead of me. A mustached man in flannel stumbled out of a chicken shop, dropping the chicken bone in his hand when he caught a glimpse of Ruadan’s eerie eyes and his enormous frame.
Nothing to see here, folks. Just a group of creepy-ass fae, stalking the streets on a Thursday night—one of us wearing a crown.
I hadn’t expected to find a mountain fae in the center of East London’s nightlife, but stranger things had happened. If I had to make a fast escape, I was lucky there were plenty of people around to mask my scent.
“Turn left,” said Aengus.
We hurried across Commercial Street onto a narrow lane. A multistory car park rose up to our right, its white metal fences giving it the appearance of a skeleton.
“This place reeks of humans,” said Maddan. “What are we doing here?”
Aengus paused in front of the white barriers of the car park. As he did, its appearance began to shift. Now, a brick wall shimmered into view where the barriers had been.
A glamoured building in the center of East London.
As the glamour further thinned, a black storefront came into view. The setting sun pierced the shop’s colored glass windows. Through the muddy hues of orange and purple, I could see a shop crammed with strange knick-knacks: stuffed hummingbirds in bell jars, an antelope’s skull, a gaping-eyed doll with a red-lipped grin who was probably stealing my soul.
The gold lettering over the shop window read Bronwen’s.
A gust of wind swept over the street, toying with a set of wind chimes. Honestly, I really preferred the vampires to this creepy place. When I glanced toward the main road, I saw a bleached-blond woman in a white dress wander toward the entrance to our street. Then, her brow furrowed as if she was confused, she pivoted, then walked away.
It seemed some sort of glamour stopped humans from walking down this street, as if they simply didn’t see it.
I felt a tap on my shoulder, and I turned to see Melusine. She wore her blue hair in a messy bun on her head. “Yeah, I’m not too worried about this one. We go inside, she gets in our heads. We just stand there. What’s the problem? I’ve had mental torture before. You know, one of my broom friends used to call me a loser. All the time. Just this high-pitched voice, shrieking at me. Sounded like my voice in a weird way.”
Aengus stepped forward, tapping her arm. “This would be a good time to clear your thoughts, Melusine.”
She ignored him. “Anyway, the point is, I have three ways of maintaining mental discipline. I take baths with small chunks of ice, I hold my breath as long as I can, and I also take baths with large chunks of ice.”
“Very impressive.” Was the test of mental torture starting early, or…?
“Maddan has a lot of mental fortitude, too,” she went on. “Not because he’s strong, but because has no feelings.”
I frowned. “Shit. That’s actually a really good point.”
“No feelings means no fear, right? I put two and two together. Now you have feelings. A lot of rage. Some fear. Some sadness. Mostly rage. I’m not so sure how this will go for you. I think you might crack.”
You and me both. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
She shrugged. “I tell it like I see it.”
The clacking of boots on pavement caught my attention, and I turned to see Grand Master Savus stalking toward us, his silver arm glinting in the ruddy light. Mist curled around him, forming shapes as it moved—a snarling wolf, a writhing snake.
As he glared at me, he bared his canines. But when I looked at his crown, my chest began to warm. It looked withered, the silvery spindles wilting. It had lost its luster, turned now into a dull gray.
A smile curled my lips. The Old Gods were turning against him.
But why? Why in the seven hells would he risk all that power just to get me out of here? It didn’t make sense. I understood he wanted Maddan because he came from a rich family, and I was just a gutter fae. But there had to be more to it than that.
Savus stopped in front of the colored glass windows, his crown sagging on his head.
“Novices,” he said. “Tonight, you must withstand Bronwen’s torment for as long as she delivers it. This is a test of discipline, of mental fortitude. Most of all, it requires that you are able to face yourself.” His icy gaze fell on Melusine. “Melusine, you’re first. Enter the shop. Endure the torment for as long as the gwyllion delivers it. You may not run away from her. Return with a deck of tarot cards. Hand them back to me.”
She nodded, her expression resolute. The door chimed as she pulled it open. She slipped into the gloomy shop, the door creaking closed behind her.
I shifted on the darkening street. I had no idea what mental torture Melusine would be facing, but I was sure it had to do with her sad birthday parties—the ones where she tried to force her brooms to eat cake. Or, maybe something much darker lurked in her past.
After a few minutes, a keening noise wound through the streets, piercing me to the core. It took me a moment to recognize it as Melusine’s voice, and a shudder danced up my spine.
Sounded a lot worse than a sad birthday.
Maddan stepped in front of me, smiling to show off his canines. He looked like he was about to start something. And why wouldn’t he? Nothing could touch him. I wasn’t supposed to kill him. Ruadan couldn’t help me, or the Shadow Fae might think he cared for me. And as we all knew, caring about someone put them at risk.
A chill slithered over my skin as Maddan skulked around me, now standing behind my back. When he brushed my hair off my shoulder, I shuddered. While Melusine’s screams continued to pierce the air, I closed my eyes, envisioning how I would kill Maddan someday. I wondered if I could punch right through the center of his chest and rip out his heart. If I did, would he live long enough to watch me throw it at him? That would be special.
His hand gripped my waist, and he leaned down. “What will the gwyllion stir up in your mind, gutter fae? The days you spent roaming the streets, desperately fucking—”
His sentence was cut off, and I whirled to see Ruadan lifting him in the air. With a ferocious snarl, the Wraith hurled Maddan at a parked car across the street. Maddan’s body dented the car.
Then, Ruadan’s cold, shadowy gaze slid to Grand Master Savus.
When I was a kid—back when I lived in the woods—I once watched two stags fighting for supremacy. A younger one and an older one, antlers locked, until the younger gored the old stag, piercing his neck with his horns.
Ruadan’s glare promised savagery, his magic lashing the air around him.
Tension rippled across the horizon, until at last Savus’s crown began to slip, and he pushed it back up on his head.
He cleared his throat. “Get up, Maddan,” was all he said.
The Old Gods were turning against Grand Master Savus. Had Ruadan just upended the hierarchy of the entire Institute?
I crossed my arms, a smile warming my face. “Are we allowed to beat Maddan now? This day is turning out better than I’d anticipated.”
But already, my mood was darkening. The Old Gods might be turning against Grand Master Savus, but for now, he still held the power. If I failed this task, my life was still in his hands.
Maddan was cradling his arm, his face red. “My father is the king of Elfame,” he said. “Do you know how much money he has given to the Institute?”
Before anyone had the chance to answer, Melusine slammed through the door, her face pale. Then, she collapsed into a heap on the pavement in front of the shop, her teeth chattering.
Gods below. A gnawing void opened in my chest.
“A failure,” bellowed Grand Master Savus, nudging the crown up further on his head. “Her time with us is done. Aengus, take her away from here.”
My stomach sank. At least she didn’t face the threat of execution for a failure, as I did. She’d just be sent back to the broom people who hated her.
Savus lifted his silver arm, beckoning Maddan closer to the d
oor. “Prince Maddan. Enter, please. Return to us with a golden apple.”
Maddan sneered at Melusine’s heaped form on the ground, then stepped over her and into the darkened shop.
Chapter 18
Aengus crossed to Melusine, helping her up. Her entire body was shaking.
I inhaled deeply, listening for the sounds of Maddan’s tormented screams.
Silence.
It was just as Melusine had said. Psychopaths didn’t feel things. Maddan felt no guilt, no emotional pain. He was ruled only by a stark sense of self-preservation. The prince of Elfame was as empty as that creepy doll’s vacant stare.
Just a few moments later, Maddan stepped out of the shop, gripping a gleaming apple in his hand.
Smiling, he tossed it in the air and caught it again. “I thought this task was supposed to be hard.”
“Congratulations.” I shot him a fake smile. “You have no soul. You must be so proud.”
He handed the apple to Savus, then smirked at me. “Have fun.”
“Arianna,” Savus barked. “Go. Return with the gwyllion’s teeth. Endure the torment in the shop for as long as she delivers it.”
I sputtered. “Her teeth?”
“That’s what I said.” His tone suggested this was the most reasonable request in the world.
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Right. That’s perfectly sensible. I’ll pull out all her teeth and deliver them to you.” Seven hells.
Still, that was my assignment, and I’d try to complete it.
I pulled open the door, and its chimes made me shiver.
Inside, thin rays of light streamed through the colored glass, illuminating rows of dolls and corked vials of colored powders and potions. Shelves towered over me on either side, and the warped wooden floor creaked under my feet.
A porcelain doll stared at me, half her head shorn, her mouth blood-red. She wore a dingy petticoat. I shivered at the sight of her. And when her jaw opened, my heart skipped a beat. She started to scream, and I clamped my hands over my ears. Bizarrely, it sounded like my own voice.
When her scream died down, I started moving deeper into the shop. From the ceiling, sagging teddy bears hung from hooks.
At the rear of the shop stood a woman in a green tracksuit, her back to me. Lavender hair—the same shade as mine—tumbled over her shoulders, and she had a cute figure. But when she turned to face me, my heart skipped a beat.
Amber eyes—the same shade as mine—stared out of a gaunt, haggard face.
I swallowed hard. How did one politely ask for a person’s teeth?
“I need your teeth.” Not like that, I was sure. “Let me rephrase that. Um, I must have the teeth from your head.” Nope, that wasn’t it either.
My fists clenched. I couldn’t just attack her and yank her teeth out. She seemed like a harmless elderly woman, and I had some moral code. Plus, I was supposed to endure the mental torture first.
She grinned at me, displaying her long rows of teeth, and the hair on the back of my neck stood on end.
“Sorry, I’m not good with people,” I went on. “I lived in a cage…” The rest of my sentence died out. Why was I telling her this? I had no idea what I was doing here.
My gaze flicked to the iron hooks hanging from the ceiling. Good for killing. No. No. I was not supposed to kill her.
My pulse started racing, and a cold sweat rose on my brow. “It’s not important. Just, underground cage—”
A wall of black slammed into me, darkening my mind, and I fell to the ground, my knees hammering the wood. Darkness smothered me, spilling into my lungs like ink.
Then, a flash of light. I was running through the forest, barefoot. My heart was a hunted rabbit, and I knew what was coming. I didn’t want to see it.
When I reached the edge of the wood, my blood roared in my ears.
It wasn’t just the bodies of fae soldiers littering the ground. Not just the invaders.
My mother lay there, too, blood dripping from her mouth, a thin red line down her beautiful skin.
I have to get out of here. I have to run…
I turned, rushing for the portal as fast as I could. I’d leave home forever.
The image shifted. Hunger rippled through my stomach, and I rolled to the side, fingers in the dirt. After a week in the iron box, I was too weak to stand. Dirt was under my nails, in the cracks of the dried skin on my hands. It was in my mouth, my nostrils. It got everywhere.
Baleros stood over me. “My little monster. I think a week in the box did you good. Taught you your place. Creatures like you need to be controlled. You look like a sweet thing, but things aren’t always what they seem. Do you understand?”
My mouth had gone completely dry. He hadn’t given me enough water in the box. The hunger cut through me so deeply it didn’t even feel like hunger anymore. It felt like a living thing eating me from the inside out. As I lay on the dirt, my legs shook. How much torment could an immortal body take?
“But you must be starving,” said Baleros. “I brought my little monster a present.”
He tossed the butterscotch sweet into the dirt of my cage. Starving, trembling. My fingers scrambling in the dirt. I grasped the butterscotch, then clutched it to my chest.
Another wave of darkness pulled me under, and my mind flickered with the image of my mother, my screams piercing the air.
He killed her…
This wasn’t real. It was just a memory. Gods below, I had to stop this.
All the air had left my lungs, and I was drowning in the memory.
My dirty fingers, desperately grasping for the sweet…
What sort of creature would do this to a person? What sort of malevolent being would force you to relive the worst moments of your life? A fae that fed off pain. A fae that should die.
The vision disappeared before my eyes, and I was back in the shop, staring into the gwyllion’s aged face. She grinned, showing off her long teeth. “Baleros is coming for you. He’s going to make you his again. He’s going to make you crawl in the dirt for your little sweeties. Arianna. What a joke that is. That’s not your real name, is it?” She was shrieking now, and I clamped my hands over my ears. “Not your real name! Things aren’t always what they seem. Baleros knows that. Is that the real reason you want him dead? To keep your little secret? To keep him from telling people what a monster you really are?”
Blackness descended, claiming my mind. A hot flash of violence erupted in my brain, that familiar brutality that always lurked under the depths.
“Not your real name!” Her voice rang in my ears like a death knell. “Things aren’t always what they seem.”
I gasped, my vision clearing once more. I blinked at the iron hook in my hand. Blood dripped from the tip, and my stomach turned.
Then, slowly, my heartbeat slowed. My breathing slowed. I let the clear air fill my lungs.
When the haze of rage dissipated from my mind, I stared down at what I’d done.
The gwyllion lay on the floor. My throat tightened. It seemed that while she was tormenting me with my memories, I’d ripped one of the iron hooks from the ceiling, and I’d rammed it into her throat. Her blood had sprayed all over a collection of Victorian dolls. Apparently, I’d also smashed her mouth with the hook, because her broken teeth now lay on the floor next to her body. The gwyllion stared up at the ceiling, wide-eyed. Her hair was no longer purple, her eyes no longer amber. Both had shifted to a dull gray.
High-pitched screaming pierced my ears. “Not your real name! What a monster you really are!”
It took me a little while to realize it was that gods-damned creepy doll, shrieking in my own voice.
Oh, seven hells. I was supposed to withstand the mental torture for as long as she delivered it, and I’d killed her instead.
With a shaking hand, I grabbed her shattered teeth. I stared at them in my palm. Then, I stuffed them in my pocket. I didn’t suppose the teeth alone would get me out of this situation.
The doll’s screams had
shifted to an accusation. “Killed her! Killed her!”
I looked down at my blood-soaked clothes. I’d done exactly what I wasn’t supposed to do. I’d completely screwed up the task.
My heart began to slam against my ribs, and I scanned the shop’s back wall, desperate for an exit. It was time to go on the run, wasn’t it?
The doll’s shrieks had died down.
Jars of preserved body parts stood on a table before a grubby window, and I grimaced at the sight of them.
I glanced back at the door. A silhouette loomed through the glass. It had gone too quiet in here. Was someone about to come in?
I rushed back to the screaming doll, lifting it by the torso. I felt a porcelain skeleton under its dress. The creepy thing blinked at me.
“Scream,” I said.
The doll blinked again.
I let the darkness pool in me, the rage, the destruction. “Scream,” I said again, my voice laced with cold fury.
The doll opened its red mouth and unleashed a shriek, a mimic of my own terror. I dropped it back on its shelf. Right now, I was just glad I’d had the foresight to get Ciara out of the Institute.
Adrenaline surged in my blood, and I could only hope that Ciara was already on her way to Oxford.
I climbed over the table, careful not to break any jars. Then I slid open the window, and it creaked up. At last, I’d pulled it open high enough to slip through. It opened onto a narrow London street, on the opposite side of the building from the other Shadow Fae. Night had fallen, giving me a little cover of darkness.
I’d found myself once again on the run, heading for one of London’s rivers.
Chapter 19
My sodden clothing dampened the seat in the narrow canal boat. I glanced up at the stars, breathing in the clear air as I steered the boat. In the dark, I cracked open another Budweiser—not my favorite beer, but it would have to do. I hadn’t found any food in the boat, so the calories from the beer would have to fill me.
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