City of Shadows

by Pippa Dacosta

  I lifted my chin, sure he could hear my heart hammering inside my chest. “I had help.”

  “Ah yes; the hound.” His eyes raked over the crowd. “Where is he?”

  “Screw you.”

  Kael’s touch burned when he grabbed me by the jaw, plucked me off my feet, and threw me down on the bar top as though I were a child’s doll, one he’d like to rip the limbs off of. He pinned me by the throat and leaned his weight in, tightening his fingers with every passing second.

  “Where’s the killer in you now, Construct?”

  Lungs heaving, I gasped for what little air I could. I kicked and bucked, swiped at him with my daggers, but he avoided my slashes. Then he plucked the blades from my hands so fast my fingers burned. I watched, wide-eyed, as he passed my daggers to the sandy-haired warrior on his right. My daggers! The killer in me came then, surging through my mind and body, dragging invaluable fae knowledge with it. I bit down hard and pulled back on my rapidly unraveling control. No, I didn’t want to be that thing. Not even for this. I couldn’t lose control. But I had nowhere to go and no weapons to fight with.

  “Alina!”

  “Andrews, get away!”

  “Fae bastards. You deserve to be hunted, you sick psychos! You took my sister! Where is she?!” I heard the horrible grisly sound of knuckles on flesh and his corresponding grunt of pain, and then nothing from Andrews.

  Hooking my fingers behind the general’s, I fought to prize his grip off my neck. If he killed me, nobody would care. I’d vanish. I shouldn’t even be there. Every second was borrowed. And the knowledge in his dark eyes told me so. “You are subject to fae law, Construct. That makes you mine.”

  “Wait,” I wheezed. There was a way out of this, if he’d just let me talk. “Wait … I …”

  He leaned as close as we’d ever been and dug his elbow into my chest. His lips curled into that wicked, wolfish leer. “I expected more of a fight from you. Without the queen pulling your strings, you’re nothing but thoughts and dreams. Such things are easily destroyed.”

  “Teach me,” I whispered. His eyes widened and then narrowed again, but the grip on my throat loosened a fraction. “Teach me … to be … ” I rasped, “like you.”

  His smile was a thing alive. It went from leering grin to salacious smirk all too quickly. Laughter glinted in his eyes. “There is no place in my cadre for a construct.”

  “You saw me, saw what I can do.” Louder this time. His grip eased, letting me breathe again. “I need someone to pull my strings. You’re right about that. You can be that person. I killed your men.” His tricolored eyes flared. “Make me yours. Imagine what you could do with the queen’s construct. Imagine the knowledge tucked away in my head. She was ancient, a powerful fragment of Faerie. And she lives in me.” Much of it was lies, or fears I hadn’t yet voiced, but it was enough to make Kael consider my words.

  He yanked me off the bar and dropped me unceremoniously on the floor. Coughing, spluttering, but able to breathe again, I peered through my bangs at the general. A fleeting expression of doubt dashed across his face before he turned away.

  “Leave the detective,” Kael ordered. “He’s more trouble than he’s worth. Bring the construct. Clear this place up.” He retrieved my daggers from his man and strode from the bar.

  Hatred simmered in my veins. A gut-twisting kind of hatred that defied common sense. Everything about him boiled the hate hotter. His arrogant self-important faeness. His brutish attitude. And he’d taken Andrews’s sister.

  Andrews sat hunched against the bar, dabbing his sleeve against the cut on his lip. He caught my eye and clambered to his feet. “Alina, what have you done?”

  Kept you alive. The same as you did for me.

  The fae warriors scooped me off the floor. With their steely fingers locked around my forearms, they marched me toward the exit. I got one last look at Andrews’s distraught face and knew what was going through his head. In his mind, he believed he loved me, because bespellment told him so, and the fae were taking me away from him. Just like they had his sister.

  There weren’t enough sorrys in the world to make it right.

  After being manhandled into the back one of three black Range Rovers, I stayed quiet, even if the numbing silence demanded to be broken. The formidable fae warriors sat either side of me, pinning me between them. The hilts of their sheathed daggers glinted. I counted five blades visible on the warrior to my left, and I didn’t doubt for a second that he’d take great pleasure in sticking any of those blades in me. They must have known I’d killed some of their number when I’d launched my attack on the queen. It would certainly account for the tension crackling in the car.

  After dropping off the fae who’d been arrested at the club at what looked like a fortified industrial building—the FA’s Holding Unit, I was dutifully informed by one of my prickly companions—we passed by leafy Hyde Park, heading toward London’s sought after West End.

  It was common knowledge that the Fae Authority owned premises in Holland Park, one of the most sought-after neighborhoods in London, so I shouldn’t have been surprised when we pulled up outside the grand double-fronted multi-million-dollar Victorian house.

  “Out!” one of the warriors barked after holding the door open and waiting for me to stop staring.

  I’d barely put a foot down on the sidewalk before hands snapped around my wrists and pulled me up a set of small steps, through a neatly manicured little garden and in through a front door twice my height. I caught glimpses of a glistening chandelier over a vast three-story open staircase before being escorted down through a warren of corridors and steps.

  I caught snippets of voices behind closed doors, some laughter, and the unmistakable ringing of blades clashing before being abandoned in a lavish high-ceilinged reception room. A huge mahogany table filled one side of the room, at the other, a grand desk sat on clawed feet.

  I drifted to the bay window, large enough to house a crescent of cushioned bench seats, and parted the heavy drapes to see a generous floodlit back garden.

  I gave the heavy sash window a tug, but it didn’t budge. I’d have liked to have had an exit route, especially if the general would be joining me. He was just as likely to greet me with a dagger in the gut, as “recruit me.” Or, I could slip out the door now, before anyone noticed. Even though I’d lost count of the twists and turns, and the up and down staircases, that had to be better than the general deciding he wanted me out of the way.

  He wouldn’t have gone to the trouble of bringing me back to FAHQ had he wanted to kill me … Would he?

  I searched the room for a weapon. The two candlesticks on the table would suffice, if it came down to hand-to-hand combat. By the fireplace, I spotted a wrought iron companion set. Iron burned the fae, which begged the question why they had the set at all. Aesthetics, probably. They certainly had a flare for the lavish.

  I crossed the room and picked up the poker, testing its substantial weight. With a good swing behind it, I could do a lot of damage to vulnerable fae parts.

  The door rattled. I hid the poker behind my back and turned to face the general. He strode into the room and stopped on the opposite side of the table to regard me with that calculating stare of his. His sharp eyes dipped to my right, and then back to my face.

  “The Fae Authority headquarters currently houses one hundred eighty elite warriors.”

  “That’s … nice.”

  “If you intend on using the poker, you might like to first consider your escape route.”

  “I’m sure I can think of something.” I relaxed the poker at my side. “I’ve fought your warriors before.”

  “I’m well aware of that fact, as are those under my command. Choose your words and actions carefully, Construct.”

  I no more wanted to attack his warriors than he wanted me to. My fight wasn’t with them. But they were his pawns, and I was in his territory.

  “Put down the poker.”

  I wet my lips and swallowed hard. �
�What’s to stop you throwing one of your daggers once I do?” He had several throwing daggers tucked discreetly about his FA uniform. He could probably put one right between my eyes, and with no queen around to weave me back together again, it would likely kill me—for good this time.

  “What’s to stop me from doing that right now?” He lifted his chin and sighed softly. “Clearly, this isn’t helping either of us. You are in my house, Construct. Among my people. At this moment, I have no intention of provoking your wrath. I know more than most what that entails. Please, lay down the poker so that we might discuss your proposal with some modicum of common sense.”

  Well, when he made it sound so entirely reasonable like that, it was difficult to deny him. “I’m keeping the poker. Deal with it.”

  His eyes narrowed with irritation, and I fought a smile from twitching across my lips. I’d take small victories where I could find them, especially when it came to the general. He’d taken Andrews’s sister. He’d killed me once. Imprisoned me and others. He could sound entirely reasonable all he wanted, but I wasn’t trusting him. Ever.

  He moved around the table, trailing his fingers along the surface. “‘Teach me to be like you …’ Those were your words?”

  I backed up, maintaining as much distance between us as possible, but he headed for the desk, briefly turning his back on me.

  I’d saved Andrews in the bar, now I had to think of something to save myself—a way out, that didn’t involve carving through his warriors or breaking the window and making a run for it.

  “Considering our past, you can surely understand my surprise.”

  With the entire length of the room between us, I set the poker gently down on the tabletop. “I don’t know what I am. I don’t understand what it means to be a construct.” He leaned back against the claw-footed desk and nodded for me to continue, content, it seemed, to let me talk. “There’s only one thing I do understand, without any doubt. The queen made me. She’s gone. But I’m still here. And inside—” I paused because the next words would cut close and expose the truth I’d been hiding, the reason I didn’t fight back in the alley, or when Kael pinned me down. “Her power is still within me, and I’m afraid it’s more than I can control.”

  Kael’s expression had hardly changed at all. I couldn’t tell if he was intrigued or bored. “Explain,” he ordered.

  “Well, that’s the thing. I don’t know how to explain it. I don’t know how to use it. I don’t know what I’m capable of, besides the obvious killing sprees. I don’t even know if I’ll be here tomorrow. I can’t manage this alone.”

  A gentle quiet settled over us as Kael considered my words. He looked at me as though he didn’t entirely trust what I’d told him. Which he shouldn’t. But there was something else in his gaze, the same hint of reverence I’d seen as I’d lain dying in his arms.

  “I could no more teach you than I could the hound.” He sighed and looked at me as though waiting for my retort. I didn’t have one.

  Now all I had to do was admit my mistake and leave. Disaster averted. I’d go back to Under, and maybe check in on Andrews to see what else he’d discovered about his sister’s disappearance. I’d gotten inside the FA, seen the general’s home. I could use that knowledge later, then perhaps come back better prepared. “You’re probably right. I should go.”

  His lips ticked. “You cannot leave.”

  I stilled. My heart thudded a little harder. Breaking that window might not be such a bad idea. “You can’t keep me here.”

  “Can’t I? You’re fae, for the most part. A subject of fae law, and after what you’ve just told me, I’d be gravely neglecting my duties if I let you walk free.”

  “But, I have personal items—”

  “What personal items could you possibly accrue in a month?”

  Bastard. I pursed my lips to keep the insult from bursting free. “So I’m a prisoner?” His arrogant face dared me to challenge him.

  I scooped up the poker and marched to the door. I yanked it open and came face to chest with two warriors.

  “There is one way I’ll allow you to leave,” Kael said, leaving the unspoken possibility hanging in the air.

  I narrowed my eyes at the stone-faced warriors and closed the door.

  “Which is?”

  “You said you can’t manage this situation alone?”

  Turning my back on the door I counted at least ten steps to the window, and an equal distance from Kael. He’d push off that desk and be on me before I could make it to the window. I already knew it was locked. I’d waste precious seconds trying to break it open. I still had my poker, which would make him think twice about attacking me, right before he threw his daggers at my back.

  “Have you approached Sovereign with this information?”

  “Reign?” I laughed a dry, bitter laugh. “We, er … we don’t get along.”

  “No?” He didn’t believe me. I began to wonder if he’d believed anything I’d said since the club.

  I let my laughter die. “No, why?”

  “Where is he?”

  “You don’t know?” I asked, buying time to consider my next move. The general wanted Reign off the streets. It would reflect well on the FA if they bagged themselves the infamous hound. A PR opportunity, a way to endear the FA to the people of London. The media frenzy in the aftermath of the slaughter at the Millennium Dome would make him and his Authority heroes.

  “No,” Kael replied, his tone laden with reluctance. “We get tips daily. By the time my squads arrive, he’s vanished. We’ve searched Under on several occasions but, as you know, the tunnels are vast. Finding Reign is proving … difficult.” He said “difficult” as though what he really meant to say was, “Finding Reign is impossible.”

  The general noted my silence with a frown. “You know exactly where he is.”

  “No, I don’t. Reign does whatever Reign wants. He could be anywhere.”

  “You can leave these premises on one condition. You bring Sovereign here. To me. Show me your commitment, and I’ll help you reach your true potential.”

  I couldn’t make Reign do anything he didn’t want to. The thought was ludicrous. “He won’t come willingly.”

  “I don’t intend to harm him. I need to be seen to be protecting London’s interests. I’d like to talk with him, that’s all.”

  Well, that was BS. But I could make it work. Reign had said he’d wanted to help. He’d likely treat such an invitation as an excuse to taunt the general. I doubted Kael, or his one hundred eighty warriors, could hold Sovereign for long. And, when I came back, I’d be armed with whatever information Andrews had on his missing sister. There wouldn’t be another chance to get close to the FA, and Kael.

  “All right.”

  “You have twenty-four hours. If you haven’t returned, I’ll issue an alert for your capture. Your free-roaming rights will be revoked.”

  “Fine,” I growled. I had twenty-four hours to convince Reign to walk into the FAHQ, or else I would be the one trapped in Under, waiting for time to pick away at my construction.

  Chapter Three

  A cab dropped me at the Chancery Lane Underground station.

  The most remarkable thing about Chancery Lane is the historic Tudor Inn adjacent to the station and wedged between boxy glass-fronted offices. The station itself is startling in its white-tiled normalcy. Rumbling escalators trundle commuters and tourists toward the Central Line. Nothing to see here, move along—unless you’re fae. Part human, part inhuman; I’d become accustomed to walking from the brightly lit platforms to Under’s forgotten, crumbling passageways. Plenty of London’s finest Metropolitan Police had tried to locate the entrance and failed. Under doesn’t allow just anyone to walk right on in. Reign had told me the tunnels couldn’t change, but he’d said it with a half smile and a sideways glance.

  I checked Reign’s favorite haunts but couldn’t find him. That wasn’t unusual. He’d told me I shouldn’t stray into unknown parts of Under. But he went wherever
he pleased.

  Knowing he’d be back soon, I took what little time I might have to strip out of my clothes and take a shower in my modest chamber. I didn’t have many belongings, as Kael had so kindly pointed out. What could I possibly have accrued in a few weeks? My room had probably once served as a storage antechamber for whatever this part of Under had once been. An abandoned communications network, World War II shelter, a government hideout so secret they’d forgotten it among decades of paperwork—Under was all those things.

  A make-do camping bed butted up against the type of shabby-chic dresser distressed by age, not interior design. Initials had been scratched into the walls, and where the paint hadn’t yet worn away I caught glimpses of color. It was just a room, like any other in Under. I’d once had an apartment, a job as a trainee reporter, a life. But that life had been fake. A cover story for the construct. Now all I had was one room, no windows, and nothing to call my own.

  I dressed and raked my fingers through my wet hair, drawing it back from my face so I could inspect my reflection for any signs of wear and tear or fading-away-ness. I didn’t know if normal people looked for signs of decay, but I had it down to an art. Reign assured me I wouldn’t blink out of existence, that there would be signs, like before. I’d get sick, disoriented, forgetful. But he hadn’t quite looked me in the eye as he’d told me not to worry.

  Satisfied I had a few more hours of breathing left, I strode from my chamber and resumed my search for Reign. He’d have to hear me out about the general. He’d probably drone on about my recklessness. He certainly wouldn’t like the fact I’d seen Andrews. I shored myself up for the inevitable lecture about learning to take draíocht. Just as long as we were talking, that would be something. As for Kael’s ultimatum, we’d figure something out together, like before.

  I took a left at a junction, strings of fairy lights lighting the tunnel ahead. My steps had grown lighter in recent weeks. I’d noticed other slight changes too. While lying awake in the dark seeking signs that I might not make the morning, I’d hear the rumble of trains and the buzz of electrical cables. When I’d taken Andrews’s draíocht it had changed me. The more I behaved like the fae, the more fae-like I became. I wasn’t yet sure if that was a good or bad thing.