by Lyra Evans
“Perfect,” Niko said. “And I imagine Noor will be set up in the rafters above the stage for access to the entire theatre?”
“It seems most likely,” Preston said.
“Right. So I’ll meet her in the crossover behind the curtain. Here’s what I need each of you to do.”
Chapter 29
The streets of the central city were strangely empty. The winter months were always slower than the summer, but Maeve’s Court was always, always bustling. Even without tourists, Fae were undeterred by weather or time or impending doom. But apparently Phoebe’s campaign of fear mongering had worked better than imagined. No one was out and about, save the officers standing sentry at strategic street corners, outfitted in full riot gear and prepared for an oncoming apocalypse. All because Niko was still at large.
The afternoon waned quickly into evening, and Niko walked by one of the armed officers as though nothing at all was out of the ordinary. He wore Preston’s cuffs and collar again, hidden beneath a baggy hoodie appropriate to the overcast, cooling day, and thankfully, the officer didn’t give him a second look. Niko took in the officer’s face beneath the helmet briefly; he was familiar to Niko, but not by name.
Cobalt stuck close to Niko as they walked; his disguise wasn’t as complete as Niko’s. He wore one of the old hats they’d used before they caught up with Preston, and it gave Cobalt long, light brown curls that feminized his appearance. Niko tried not to look at him much, for more reasons than one, but the way he kept playing with the tips of the disguise hair made Niko want to swat his hands. Hair aside, there was no disguising the magical appeal of a Selkie, and every person they passed was another test. If the stranger was inclined toward men in any way, they were likely to stare after Cobalt. In certain particularly powerful situations, they might even try to follow him, to speak with him. And neither Niko nor Cobalt wanted that. The disguise held up best under brief scrutiny, not in-depth looks.
“Hey, you,” the officer called suddenly, and Niko forced himself to slow but keep walking. His heart beat sharply, and he felt Cobalt tense behind him. “You with the long hair.” Cobalt stopped, as did Niko. Niko looked between the officer and Cobalt, hoping to affect some kind of vague curiosity and not the edge of panic he was feeling.
“Me?” Cobalt asked, pitching his voice lower than usual.
The officer was walking toward them. A cop in uniform was always a somewhat threatening figure, even to the innocent. It was a fact Niko had long exploited when he was still a rookie. But a cop in full riot gear coming toward you with a stoic expression was frankly terrifying. Niko had forgotten what it was like on the other side of that shield, his entire body itching to run despite the idiocy of the idea.
“Where’d you get the hat?” the officer asked.
Cobalt froze, a beat passing. “Sorry?”
The officer nodded to the hat Cobalt wore. “The Redcaps Hat,” he said. “Been looking for one just like that for my kid. She’s a superfan, but they’re hard to come by.”
Niko relaxed a fraction. Cobalt, however, was still edging on confused.
“Shit, yeah, they’ve been selling out everywhere since they started killing it this season, yeah?” Niko added, hoping to jog Cobalt’s understanding.
The Selkie nodded. “Sorry, mate, this was a gift,” he said. “I think my friend said she got it ’round…oh, shit, where was it?” he asked Niko.
“Sandcastle Concourse, I think she said,” Niko bluffed. “You know, the little plaza off Avenue and King?”
The officer nodded along. “That far out, huh? Guess I’ll have to make a trip. Thanks. Stay safe, guys,” he said, waving them off.
“You, too!” Niko replied with a friendly wave, and as soon as the officer’s attention was back on his corner, the two of them slipped down the street and into a narrow alley between two buildings. Niko fought the urge to run down the alley, walking as smoothly and calmly as he could until he found the tight break between buildings to fit through. Cobalt followed him, and they came out in a small quad tucked between a number of buildings.
There was little there but a couple old garbage cans, the area being inaccessible to cars and trucks. A building to the right had expanded and renovated, taking up more of its lot space than previously, which cut off the tiny quad from both sight and access. None of the back or side doors came out into it, so no one much lingered here anymore. Apart from the occasional illegal deal, this quad was deserted most of the time. Which made it perfect for Niko’s needs.
“I think I shaved several years off my life,” Cobalt said, exhaling deeply, his back to the wall of a building. He leaned his head back against the brick and cast his eyes to the sky. “At least he had no interest in me personally. I cannot imagine how that would have gone if he’d wanted into my pants as well as my hat.”
Niko tilted his head as he watched each entry point of the area for their meeting. “I wouldn’t be so sure. He definitely gave you a bit of a once-over. I think the hat just derailed him. Sports override sex, didn’t you know?”
“Not where I come from,” Cobalt muttered. “But perhaps it was the parenting that overrode the sex here. He did say it was for his child.”
With a shrug, Niko accepted the possibility. As he did, he saw a shadow move from down one of the narrow entryways to the quad. He tensed, standing at the ready, one hand over his concealed weapon beneath the hoodie. But when the figure emerged from the passage, Niko relaxed.
A man with brown hair and a well-tailored jacket appeared, squinting at Niko a moment before he noticed Cobalt and calmed down. The brimmed hat he wore had the look of a detective in a classic mystery novel, and Niko wondered if this was how he met with all of his sources. But perhaps the hat was meant as a minor disguise of his own, shading his face and covering the tips of his not-pointed ears.
“I take it that’s you, Spruce?” Harvey Kincaid, reporter for TCNN, asked, still squinting at Niko’s face. Niko nodded, unwilling to remove the cuffs and collar in open air. “That’s some disguise.”
“Didn’t have much choice,” he said. “Thanks for meeting.”
Kincaid nodded in return. “Not sure I had much choice either. The shit that’s been going on—newsroom’s crazier than it was after Logan’s death. And I thought that was a media circus.”
“You’ve been doing admirable work,” Cobalt said, studying him. “Among the echo chamber of news reports, your voice is the only one attempting to speak some reason.”
“Thanks,” he said. “Not sure how long that’ll last though. Me on Maeve’s Court television, I mean. Pretty sure if Courtier Linden gets her way, they’re going to kick me out and back to Nimueh’s Court. Probably safer for me there, anyway, way things are going.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Niko said. “You have the stuff I asked for?”
Kincaid nodded, patting the breast of his jacket. “I do.” He pulled out a small envelope from his inner pocket, but he hesitated before handing it over. “Can I ask why you called me?”
Niko searched his face and listened closely for tells. “You’re the only one who didn’t immediately throw me under the bus. Very noticeably referring to my alleged crimes and talking about how insane it is to issue a shoot-first order.”
He shrugged. “That’s just good journalism,” he said. “But access to you when no one else has it would be a massive story. You sure I’m not just buying time to trap you?”
Wind rustled some of the refuse lying near the base of the walls. It smelled of dust and wet paper in the quad. Niko smiled slightly.
“I don’t think you would repay me that way,” Niko said. “I did save your life.” He paused. “But maybe you believe the accusations. If you do, you probably should trap me. So you decide.”
Kincaid stood motionless, weighing it out. With a sigh, he said, “I never bought it. Not after what I saw at the auction.” He shook his head, offering Niko the envelope. It was lighter than Niko expected, but he felt the outline of his r
equest beneath the padded paper. “You, however, I would have believed,” he said to Cobalt. “Not saying it wouldn’t have been justifiable, mind.”
Cobalt showed no sign of affront at his comment. Perhaps it was because Cobalt was capable of murder. Perhaps what had been done to Sade was a few steps too far, but Kincaid likely didn’t have access to all the finer details.
“Thanks,” Niko said, slipping the envelope into his hoodie. Glancing at his phone, Niko checked the time. “We should go.”
“You’ll give me an exclusive when this is over, right?” Kincaid asked as Niko turned.
Pausing, Niko looked back over his shoulder. “Sure,” he said. “If I live.”
The trek toward the theatre was somewhat more stressful than that to the meeting point with Kincaid. Where the previous streets had been deserted, the ones around the entertainment district were somewhat busier. The handful of people ambling around was still well below the typical average for that time of day, but that there were more people wasn’t the only difference. Here, the police looked more like soldiers. The riot gear was replaced with uniforms that looked more like fatigues, less black and more green. The assault rifles carried by each officer were another indication that this performance was not at all about Niko. This little display was for the people, and it was about Cobalt.
Each officer wore a specialized set of headphones, likely meant to deter ‘invading Selkies’ from attempting to Sing to them. Niko wasn’t certain the headphones would work, but they were definitely very visible. Which meant they were part of the show. Something was being done, or so Linden and her cohort wanted people to think.
Yet still, despite the duos of officers at every corner and the small groups stationed outside high value targets, like the major theatres and busiest clubs, Niko and Cobalt had no trouble walking along. Not one of them even gave Cobalt a second thought. A few business owners stood in the windows or doors of their shops and restaurants, their businesses unusually empty. Arms crossed and frustrated expressions on their faces, they surveyed the state of their district with annoyance. Police standing every few feet with military-grade weapons was hardly an encouraging sight when you wanted to enjoy a dinner out or a night dancing with friends. Or an evening at the theatre. The effect this was having on the economy of Maeve’s Court was probably much harsher at this level. Small businesses suffered where larger ones prospered in times of uncertainty.
They stopped at the point Niko had chosen, just at the foot of the steps to the Skymark Theatre. It was the oldest theatre of its kind in Maeve’s Court and wore its history on its front with a large, ornamental plaque. The white steps up toward the entrance shone as though brand new, the brass railing down the centre gleaming in the fading light. A set of bronze doors at the top of the stairs were adorned with relief images from the ancient myths of the birth of the Three Courts, and to each side of these main doors were smaller ones in etched glass. Inside, the ceiling vaulted upward with lavish paintings and décor, plush red carpets unfurled along the walkways and gold trims at every corner. But Niko could see none of that from where he was standing now, looking into Cobalt’s stony face.
“I don’t like this,” Cobalt said in an undertone. “I should be at your side.”
Niko looked away, watching cars pass along the street. “We’ve been through this,” he answered, equally quiet. “I need you with Preston and Uri. Just in case. And if Phoebe sees you, she’ll balk. I need to do it alone.”
The muscle in his jaw flexed, and Cobalt said, “And should your plan fail?”
A stabbing in his gut made Niko want to flinch, but he fought it. “Don’t trust my genius?”
It was meant as a joke, to lighten the mood, but neither of them found it funny. Niko’s words from the pool still echoed in his mind. Cobalt moved a fraction closer. Niko breathed him in, simmering in the smell of ocean freedom for a moment, trying to convince himself it wasn’t the last time he’d be immersed in it.
“I don’t trust you not to risk yourself,” Cobalt said, and Niko’s lips thinned.
“Huh,” Niko said, unable to manage anything else.
Cobalt looked down. “You seem determined to die today, brushing off the future in the event you do not make it through. What am I meant to think?”
There wasn’t much to say to that, Niko realized. He didn’t want to die. At least, he didn’t think so. But perhaps there was some part of him that thought it his necessary penance—for the storm he’d brought down on everyone. And maybe it was easier to think he might not see a future than to worry about how it would look. With Cobalt or without. As a cop or not. With Phoebe Linden in control, or completely new. Niko had spent so much of his life living from day to day, tomorrow meant very little.
“I’ve got to go,” Niko said, unable to face Cobalt. A flood of shame filled him, but he said, “Be careful,” and walked on to his own destination without waiting for an answer. It was easier. It was always easier. To leave, to walk away, when things got difficult. When emotions were too complicated. He had always thought Fated Love was meant to be easy and happy. That things were so difficult with Cobalt in the last little bit made him wonder if he was wrong, or if the both of them had been wrong.
As Niko made a sly turn down another alleyway and stopped behind a dumpster, he pushed his feelings aside. Because that was easier too. Too much in his head, Niko took a moment to center himself on the goal. He didn’t have the time or space to worry about his relationship. If it was that. What did you call it when you agreed you were meant to be then didn’t see each other for three months? And then immediately went on the run together and were constantly in a state of tension? Niko didn’t think there was a self-help book or newspaper advice column that catered to his specific problem.
Reaching into the dumpster, Niko pulled out a small black bag different from the rest. It was different in that this one was fabric, not plastic, and it wasn’t jutting out in odd corners, filled with old sets and props and fabrics. Instead, it was soft, weighted only in the base. Niko crouched down behind the dumpster again and opened it up to reveal the black tactical pants and long-sleeve shirt that made up the traditional uniform of stage crew. Beneath the clothing was a headset and various cables and small tools, as well as a utility belt meant to carry them.
Wasting no time, Niko swapped his clothing for the clothing in the bag, keeping his own black boots, as well as the cuffs and collar that disguised him. He would need to remove them when meeting with Phoebe—she would hardly trust him not to look like himself—but until then, he would need the disguise. Donning the headset, he set it to the frequency Starla had given him. A soft static crackled in his ear a moment before it evened out to silence. No one was speaking yet, but it would help Niko keep out of the crew’s way. He adjusted the tool belt to his waist and clipped his gun holster to it, then covered his gun with his shirt. Looking down at himself, he realized the bottom of his black holster was still slightly visible; he hoped anyone looking at him would mistake it for a pocket on the utility belt and not think long on it. Because he was not going in without a weapon. He had made no indication in his email that he would be unarmed, and Phoebe’s response had not specified it either. She wasn’t stupid enough to think Niko would willingly do that, and he wasn’t naïve enough to think Phoebe would show without multiple forms of defense. Weapons aside, she already knew she would have Noor on hand. Niko was sure she’d have more than that.
As his last step, he pulled out the envelope Kincaid had given him. Popping it open, he poured out its contents. The items were few and small but that was precisely the point. He took one of the items, a little black plugin that looked much like a USB key, and attached it to the end of one of the cords he was given. Starla had ensured he would have all the necessary components, thankfully, which made things easier. Taking stock of the other items, he hoped everyone else was in position by now, doing what it was they needed to. Starla and Coral clearly had, but Preston and Uri…and Cobalt…
His mind coming back to Cobalt, to the rollercoaster that was the last week of their lives, Niko shut his eyes. The piercings Cobalt had given him felt hot and cold at once, his nipples aching and throbbing every time he thought of Cobalt. But the feeling from them was weaker, almost tethered to the ache in his chest that reminded him of his hollowness. Maybe this is too hard. Maybe I can’t do it.
I don’t trust you…
There was more to that statement; it didn’t end there. Niko knew that. But Cobalt’s words slashed through him and brought with them an icy chill that hardened the outside of his heart, building a wall of ice around the hollow in his chest. And the ache lessened a bit. Almost liveable. Maybe it was just easier to be alone. Maybe it would hurt less to be without Cobalt than it did to be with him. He’d learned what it was to live without Cobalt in the last three months, anyway, hadn’t he? Maybe no love was worth the struggle.
The sound of a car honking brought him back to himself and the task at hand. He jumped slightly, glancing down the alley to the street. Pressing himself back against the brick swiftly, he faded into the darkness as a group of officers patrolled down the street, checking along the alleys with flashlights and quick looks. Niko waited until they passed completely, not wanting to risk them asking for identification. Once they were gone, he walked down the alley and around the back of the theatre to the stage door.
The door was propped open to allow the comings and goings of cast and crew as they arrived and prepped for the evening’s performance. Niko slipped inside behind a couple of men delivering large cases of water, likely for the cast. He fiddled with his headset as he followed them, trying to look preoccupied while listening in to the conversation.
“It’s a bit fucking rich, isn’t it?” one of them was saying. “All the police outside, the security…and I heard they’re calling in special forces or some shit to line the streets before the show when the attendees arrive tonight. Like, that’s great and all, but there’s no one watching the back way, yeah? What about the safety of the cast and crew? If this Spruce dude is so dangerous and Selkies are fucking running amok, why aren’t they watching us back here? A Selkie could just walk up and hypnotize us to do some bad shit during the show, but they’d never know because they didn’t bother to send people ’round back to stage door.” He shook his head of shaggy orange hair. “Fucking hypocrites.”
