by Chloe Neill
My chest tightened when I considered the possibility the monster would show itself on this little field trip, which was already a bad idea. But there was nothing I could do about that now.
“Elisa?” she asked, as we walked down the path.
“Yeah?”
“Why are you really doing this?”
I looked at her. “What do you mean?”
“I know this is risky for you. Why are you doing it?”
“Because he was nice to me, important to you, and part of the Pack. That makes him important to me.”
She blew a breath through pursed lips like she was working to control tears. But she held them in.
“You know you don’t have to do this, right?”
She looked at me, then looked away, chin set. “My family and friends are magic. Saying no to it—” She paused, as if searching for words. “It’s hard. I don’t regret avoiding magic. But I regret the other things I have to give up because of it, because I’m afraid of what I might do. Of that damn slippery slope.”
I reached out and squeezed her hand. She squeezed back.
“Someone needs to help him, and right now, I can be that someone. I owe it to him. And I’ve given up so much that I owe it to myself. Just to see.” She looked back at me and smiled. “I’m glad you’re back, even if for just a little while.”
I smiled at her. “Let’s go talk to some fairies and try not to get killed. ’Cause this is a really bad idea.”
“Yeah,” Lulu agreed with a smile. “But at least we’re getting out of the house.”
* * *
• • •
The grounds were quiet, the lawn immaculate and rolling, the stone crunching softly as we walked toward the gatehouse and its enormous doors—two halves of a twenty-foot-tall arch, with black hinges holding them in place.
There was magic here, a faint buzz that left a chill in the air. I wasn’t sure if that was castoff from the accumulation of the fairies themselves, or because they’d magicked this building just as they had the tower.
The door on the left opened before we could knock. A male fairy in black fatigues looked through. His hair was dark and straight; his body tall and lean. His eyes were dark jewels among his pale, angular features.
“You are a bloodletter,” he said.
“I am,” I said. “She is not.” No need to get into the details about Lulu’s magic if she wasn’t using it. “We’d like to speak to Claudia.”
“Claudia does not commune with bloodletters.”
“Okay,” Lulu said, “then how about you answer a few questions?”
The fairy shifted his gaze to her, his movements methodical and his face expressionless. “You do not have permission to encroach upon our land. And yet you seek to ask us questions.”
“We have come peacefully to your door, and we have questions to ask,” I said. “If you don’t want to answer them, we’ll leave. It’s that simple.”
He looked at me for a moment, and then the door slammed with enough force to blow the hair back from Lulu’s face.
“Friendly,” she murmured, but didn’t take so much as a step backward.
Magic began to pepper the air and my heart began pounding in response, adrenaline beginning to flow. I could feel the monster stirring, a moth drawn to flame.
Not going to happen, I warned it, and pushed down against it. It was like trying to ignore an ache, trying to flex a muscle in spite of it. You could still move, but the pain didn’t go away. And the monster didn’t, either.
“If I’m mortally wounded,” she whispered, “you have my permission to change me. But make sure I get a good room in Cadogan House.”
“Third floor has the best views,” I said, flipping the thumb guard on my katana.
Ten seconds later, both doors opened, and we were beckoned inside.
* * *
• • •
The gatehouse’s walls were as high as a two-story building. The ceiling was open to the sky, to moonlight that speared through to illuminate the stone floor. A second set of double doors mirrored the first and led through the wall.
Torches hung from the walls, sending flickering firelight across the space. But for the snap and sputter of the torches, the room was utterly silent—despite holding nearly a dozen black-clad fairies who stared back at us, all of them holding staffs or straight swords.
They stood in a perfect semicircle, Ruadan in front of them. He wore a tunic today in gleaming emerald, locks of his long, straight hair knotted into complicated braids. Gold filigree gleamed along the edges of his tunic, gold thread had been braided into his hair, and his fingers glowed with rings.
This wasn’t the subdued Ruadan from the reception, the man whose purpose had seemingly been to complement his queen. This looked like a man who’d taken control. And I wondered if it was a coincidence that Claudia wasn’t among the fairies.
“Bloodletter,” he said, in a tone that was equally insulting and curious. But not surprised. He’d either watched our approach or had been informed of it.
He shifted his gaze to Lulu. “And . . . not human.”
“Human enough,” she said, but her voice was quiet.
I moved incrementally closer, so my shoulder bumped hers in a show of support and solidarity.
“Ruadan,” I said. “We’d like to ask you some questions.”
“About?”
No point in screwing around, I thought. “About Tomas Cardona. The vampire killed at Cadogan House. Do you know anything about his death?”
“Why would we? He was a bloodletter. Our involvement with bloodletters has been minimal.” But his lips curled into a smile. “You have come into our castle, so perhaps that will change.”
“Our friend was wrongly accused of his murder,” I said. “We’re trying to help him.”
His gaze darkened to storm clouds, and there were quiet murmurs around him in a language I didn’t understand.
“You believe we have information regarding the murder of a bloodletter. Or information that would acquit a shapeshifter.”
“We don’t know. Do you?”
“Be careful you do not put your trust in those who shift and change. Their inconsistency proves they are untrustworthy.”
“Riley didn’t kill Tomas.” Lulu’s voice was hard and certain.
Like a well-oiled gear, Ruadan’s head turned slowly toward Lulu. “Are you making an accusation?”
“No,” she said, and I felt her trembling beside me.
I shouldn’t have let her come, I thought, regret and guilt twisting in my gut. That I shouldn’t have come, either, wasn’t the point. I was immortal, had a biological shield against my own stupidity. She didn’t have the same protection.
The murmurs rose to mutterings, to shifting feet and irritation. The curiosity that had gleamed in Ruadan’s eyes evaporated, and they went hard as stone. Frankly, I preferred the anger to the creepy interest.
Lean jaw clenched, he took a step forward, the scent of astringent herbs lifting into the air around him. “You come into our territory without our permission to inquire if we have committed a crime.”
I took a step forward, trying to draw his attention back to me. “We didn’t ask if you’d committed a crime. But now that you’ve brought it up—did a fairy kill Tomas?”
“You are rude and presumptuous, not that we would expect more of the Others.”
“You’re right,” I said. “It was rude and presumptuous to come here. Murder is also rude. I’ll ask again—did a fairy kill Tomas?”
His eyes flashed and his voice went low. “We killed no one.”
I noted the pin at the neck of his tunic. “Did any of your fairies lose a gold pin, by chance, at Cadogan House?”
He jerked. Covered it quickly, but I’d seen the movement. He might not have known the pin had been lost, b
ut he knew what it meant that it had been found.
“You didn’t know they were sloppy, did you? That they didn’t just kill the vampire, throw magic over Riley, escape over the wall. They left a little something behind.”
“You will return it.”
I shrugged. “Don’t have it,” I said, and was glad I’d thought to leave it in the car, just in case they tried to take it back. “It’s locked safely away.”
“You dare threaten us.”
“No threats. Just questions. And the only way questions could be a threat is if you’re hiding something.”
Ruadan’s jaw worked, as if chewing back angry words. Magic lifted again, this time cold and dark and angry. The mood had changed, and I knew there’d be no more conversation.
I caught movement to my right. The semicircle of fairies was stretching, attempting to surround us. I stood a step backward, and pulled Lulu back with me, just a little closer to the door.
Someone screamed words that were more song than battle cry. They were all fighters, and they all wanted their turn.
My heart began to pound like a war drum, too eager for battle. I wrapped my right hand around the corded handle, ready to draw.
“You’ve gotten more vampirey in my absence,” Lulu murmured behind me.
“Yeah,” I said with a sunny smile. “I’m a regular Dracula. I’m going to distract them, and you’re going to run back to the car.”
“Fuck that,” Lulu said, stepping beside me, rotating her wrist to spin her own blade. “I’m not letting you have all the fun.”
“All right,” I said. “But be careful.”
“No promises.”
I looked back at the fairy in front of me. He was thin like the others, tall and willowy, with dark skin and eyes. The blade of his sword gleamed in the moonlight.
He stepped forward, and I met him. I unsheathed my katana and used it to push his away, then spun it back to slash horizontally across his chest, but didn’t break skin. He jumped back, as spry as he was strong, then came in again with another overhead blow.
I stopped it, but felt the impact echo through my arms.
He lunged. I went low, kicked in a sweep that dropped him to the ground and sent a ripple of disappointment through the crowd of fairies who watched.
He managed to hold on to the sword, flipped onto his feet again. He swung the sword, stepping into it to increase the power. I rotated at the last second, and his blade still whooshed closely enough that I could feel the breeze on my face.
I stayed in the spin, kicked his leg, sent him forward. The fairy pulled his sword up sharply, sent the blade singing against my shin.
Fire erupted as the scent of blood filled the air.
“First blood!” someone shouted.
The injury hurt and I didn’t like the precedent, but I was glad that they’d shed my blood first. If we survived long enough to deal with the fallout, it would help prove we hadn’t intended the violence.
I pushed down the pain and tried to ignore the monster’s sudden interest in the battle. And then another fairy joined the fun.
A dagger sliced through the air. This time I kicked up, hitting his wrist and sending the weapon skittering through the air. My second kick made contact with his jaw, snapped back his head.
But he shook off the impact, then dove on me, sending us both to the ground. We grappled, blades clattering away, both of us trying to find the right grip, the superior move. In the scramble, his elbow connected with my face, and my knee caught his kidney. But neither of us found the move that would stop the other, and we both ended up on our feet again.
On my left, Lulu was fighting another fairy in close combat, blades glinting as they spun. Her father had trained her well; she fought like a champ. But she wasn’t immortal, and it was easy to see she was getting tired. Her arms were shaking from the effort of lifting the blade. I needed to get her out of here.
“Get back to the car,” I yelled, hoping she’d hear me over the noise of the fight.
“Fuck you, too,” she said, and blew hair from her face as she brought her sword down on a fairy’s forearm. He turned, but not fast enough. The blade sliced across his arm, raising a beaded line of blood that made the air smell of green things.
The temptation was sudden, and it was strong, like blood and magic were combining to compel me to drink. My eyes silvered and my fangs descended, my fingers suddenly shaking with want. I had to clench my hands to hold myself back, to keep from falling at his feet to drink the blood right from his veins.
This was the lure of fairy blood, and I wasn’t the only one interested. As if propelled by the desire, the monster broke through the barrier I’d erected to keep it quiet, to keep it secreted away. It rose like a flame, brilliant and hot in the darkness, burning away everything around it.
A red haze covered my vision, and I knew my eyes had turned the same color—a side effect of the monster’s magic. As it took control, hatred rose in my stomach like bile. I heard a scream, realized a moment later—when my throat felt like I’d swallowed broken glass—that I’d been the one who’d made the sound.
With the monster in control, I jumped forward toward the fairy. I fell on him, and we hit the ground together in a tangle of arms and legs, trying to get in a strike. I made contact first, landed a punch on his cheekbone that made his head thud dully against the ground. And because that wasn’t enough for the monster, I hit him again.
“Lis! Lis! Elisa!” I heard Lulu’s voice but couldn’t pull myself to the surface. The monster was too strong.
“Snap out of it!” she said.
The fairy beneath me, his gaze still unfocused, grabbed my hands. And then my ankles were drawn together, my feet tangled. I was dragged backward, and the shock was enough to shake the monster loose. It wanted freedom, but it didn’t want me dead. Because that wouldn’t serve its purpose. That wouldn’t set it free.
I looked back. Thin green vines had snaked around my ankles and were working their way up my calves. And others were rising from the ground like a nest of snakes, headed for my wrists.
I shifted, pulling the tendrils around my ankles. A few snapped, putting more of that vegetal scent into the air. But more vines pushed through the stones to replace them and shackled me like iron.
“Elisa!” Lulu was on her knees a few feet away, vines around her ankles, her wrists bound together. This time there was fear in her eyes.
Ruadan knelt beside me, pulled a dagger from a leather holster at his waist, held it up in the moonlight. And then the blade was at my throat, and I stopped moving. I knew what fairies with blades did to vampires.
“It would be a shame to kill you,” he said. “You are an interesting specimen, and I wish to know more about you. And your magic.”
“I’m just a vampire.”
“Oh, I don’t think that’s true.” He angled the blade just enough to prick, and I felt the trickle of blood at my neck.
The look in his eyes made my stomach clench harder. Surprise and shock. Interest and intrigue.
Ruadan dabbed a droplet of my blood with a long, pale fingertip, then flicked his tongue to taste it. “Power,” he quietly said, and there was too much interest in his eyes.
My blood chilled as I realized he’d recognized something about the monster. Maybe not all the details, about the history or the origin. But he knew there was magic that wasn’t just vampiric.
Before I could respond, there was a howl outside the gatehouse. And the sound was full of anger and rage.
It came at a full run, earth pounding beneath huge paws. Silver fur and ivory fangs glinted in the moonlight, and the scents of pine and smoke and animal lifted on the wind.
It wasn’t until it reached us—until I saw its ice-blue eyes—that I knew we weren’t in danger from him.
Connor.
My heart pounded with a new ki
nd of ferocity.
He bit through the tangle of vines at my feet. There was an answering scream in the crowd of fairies, as if his teeth had met their flesh. There must have been some magical connection to the one who’d woven the magic.
That was enough to have the other tendrils around Lulu and me shrinking back. She ran toward me, helped me to my feet. My legs felt heavy, shaky. Maybe because of the fairy magic. Maybe because of the fight. Maybe because of the monster.
Connor looked us both over, eyes narrowed, then moved in front, putting his body between us and the fairies. He surveyed them, then paced in front of them, anger rumbling in his throat. His ears lay flat, his stance slow. He was big and dangerous, and he was ready to fight.
I was shocked, awed, and a little unnerved. Not just because he’d found us and was obviously trying to protect us, but because he was showing us who he was. Letting Lulu and me see his animal form, the sacred part of himself only other shifters would normally see.
Connor reached Ruadan and bared his teeth, made another threatening growl that lifted goose bumps on my arms.
“Animal,” Ruadan spat, lip curled in obvious disgust. He clearly didn’t have any love for vampires, but he seemed to loathe shifters even more.
Connor growled again, and Ruadan inhaled sharply, nostrils flaring.
Two fairies stepped forward, one on each side of their leader, and drew their blades. This was no longer fairies versus vampires. It was fairies versus Pack.
And that, I thought, might make the difference.
“You have a decision to make,” I said, my voice hoarse from screaming. “Do you want to hurt the prince and take on the entire Pack? You know they’re dangerous. Untrustworthy,” I said, throwing his word back at him. “And very, very powerful. I doubt you’d enjoy that fight. And I doubt your queen would, either.”
There was a hot burst of magic as insult spread around the room. They might have obeyed Ruadan, protected him, but Claudia was their still queen.
