Faerie Rising: The First Book of Binding (The Books of Binding 1)

by A. E. Lowan

  Her next step needed to be to find a new appearance.

  Lana moved out of the stairwell and looked around. The floor she found herself on was well appointed, with a spacious reception area surrounded by office clusters. She began peering in door windows and only found empty darkness behind each. Why was there never a man around when you actually wanted one? As she moved deeper into the floor she realized the name plates on many of the office doors were followed by the title “attorney.” She must be in the legal department. If Midir was forming an army of fae, none of them would be lawyers – the bulk of the building’s crowd must be on another floor. Shit. She began to backtrack.

  Her sensitive ears caught the electronic sound of a voice over a mic and she opened the next door she came to and slipped inside. It was a smaller reception area, or maybe just where a secretary sat. She was making guesses here, really. Four doors led off from there, and one had a light on behind the glass. Lana perked up and looked inside. Empty, with a purse on the desk. Damn. But the sound of the mic drew closer. Her heartbeat jumped and she looked back at the lit office. An idea formed and she let herself into the woman’s office.

  She emptied her jacket pockets of what little she had in them, set them on the desk, and dropped her purse beside the little pile. She then stripped off her jacket and laid it over the seat of the chair. This was not as easy as finding a potential lover and enticing them into her thrall as she changed her form to match their desires. She could do that instantly; it was her nature. She looked around the office and found several framed pictures, many of them featuring the same attractive blonde woman. So, a blonde… maybe. A calf-length tan coat hung on a coat stand in the corner. Lana found a long blonde hair on the coat and further searching turned up two more caught on the chair back.

  She put her purse in the chair with her coat and spun it so its back faced the door. Then she positioned herself in the corner out of sight of the door window and wound the three hairs around her fingers. This kind of shape-changing took more focus and energy than her preferred method, but she was out of options. She closed her eyes and focused on the hairs, on the essence of the person whose body they came from. This was why magic using bits of hair and blood and nails was so potent – it all carried a direct connection to whoever had shed it. She felt the shiver pass over her body from her crown to her feet that told her she was changing. Her jeans became looser around the hips and her sweater tightened across the bust. And this was why she wore a body that was curvier than was normal for a sidhe; they did not make jeans in the stretchy material in smaller sizes.

  Lana pulled a lock of hair forward. Blonde, all right. But, was it the right blonde for this office? The door opened and a man looked in. Lana startled, and felt herself begin to shift in self-defense. She clamped down on her new form and smiled.

  “Hey, Sandra,” he said. “Everything ok in here?”

  She nodded. She had to trust the voice. “Fine. Just stretching.” It was high and chirpy. How could a woman with a voice like this be a lawyer?

  The security guard grinned back in that slightly silly fashion Lana knew so well. He was a little pudgy in his security uniform but not hard on the eyes. This “Sandra” had an admirer. “Great. Just checking.” He paused for a moment, then looked a little embarrassed and closed the door.

  Lana stayed smiling at the door until she heard his footsteps fade away and then set back into motion. She had to get out of this building.

  She opened the woman’s purse and dumped it into the bottom drawer, and then stuffed the contents of her own purse inside it without regard for order or organization. Dammit, she loved her purse, had paid three nights’ worth of tips for it, but if it was a choice between it and a slow death, she could buy another fucking purse. She had seen firsthand what Midir was capable of doing just to make a point. She did not want to experience what he would do to an enemy at his mercy.

  A thought occurred to her and she pulled up her sleeves and stripped off the glamour hiding her knives even as she stripped off the wrist sheaths. If she passed by Midir or his companion, they would not be able to sense her changed shape – that was a natural ability that left no magical signature. But they would be able to sense her glamour and it would get her killed. The knives and sheaths would not fit in the purse. Shit. She looked around, but no solution presented itself. She tucked both into the back of her jeans and pulled her belt a few notches tighter to keep them from falling down her pants.

  She then stuffed her jacket and empty purse deep down between the woman’s desk and the window and put on the long coat, grabbing the new purse on her way out the door. She had no idea how long the woman would be gone and needed to be out of the building before her theft was discovered.

  Lana made it to the elevators without incident and pushed the down button. It did not light up. She frowned. She pushed it harder, then several times in rapid succession. Nothing. She saw a swipe box, pulled Senán’s pass key out of her pocket and brushed it over the box. Again nothing. Shit. What was wrong? She didn’t have time to figure it out. The stairwell, then.

  She turned and stopped just short of hitting a large body. It was the security guard, again. Her chest clenched, but she put a smile on her face. Pleasantness was a survival trait for her kind. The light flashed on his name tag. Charles. But he looked like a “Chuck” or a “Charlie.” Her life just could not be easy, could it? “Hey.” Better to keep it simple.

  He grinned. “Hey, Sandra. You leaving?”

  “Trying to. But something’s wrong with the elevator.”

  “Here, let me help.” He swiped the box with his card and pressed the button. It obediently lit. “The building is on lockdown. There’s an intruder.”

  She chose to look impressed. “Is it dangerous?”

  He shrugged, straightened a bit. “Naw. They didn’t say she was armed, but we need to be prepared for anything, you know. That’s why we have security in a building this big.”

  Lana smiled, and the elevator opened. “Can you walk me out?” she asked, lowering her voice just a little and looking up at him through her lashes.

  The guard flushed and looked conflicted, and Lana knew if she pushed it she could get him to do whatever she needed. “I have to stay on this floor,” he said with a note of reluctance in his voice, as if he wanted to be talked out of it. “But Gary’s at the desk – he’ll swipe you out.”

  She smiled wider and released him. “Good night, then.” She would have to take her chances with this “Gary.” Manipulating this guard into assisting her would raise more suspicion than it was worth – she could be held up with questions she could not answer long enough for the real Sandra to return, and that would be her ruin.

  The doors closed on his good night and his shining eyes and then the elevator was dropping to the lobby.

  Lana clutched her stolen purse tight to her side and readied for when the doors opened again. Across the lobby and out the doors. Down the drive and into a car. She repeated the two phrases over and over in her head as she forced herself to relax. This was not the time to tense up and panic. She needed to focus.

  The doors slid open, showing her nothing but the other bank of elevator doors facing her. She blew out a silent breath and stepped out like she had every right in the world to be there. There was more security at the central desk, now, and the slender form of the unknown sidhe lord was among them, bent over monitors with his spill of black hair hanging down over one shoulder. They were between her and the glass doors.

  She kept walking, kept her eyes sweeping over the group as a whole. As she drew close she clamped down on her fear and said in a clear voice, “Gary?” The first man to look up won her full attention and smile. Please be him…

  “Yeah?”

  She did not show her relief. “Could you please swipe me out?” The sidhe glanced up in her direction, flickered his eyes over her, and looked back to his task. He still looked so familiar.

  “Sure. Let me come around.”

 
The guard walked with her to the doors and swiped his card. She heard the door click and reached out to push it open. “Thanks!”

  “Anytime,” he said, and brushed his hand over her back. It stopped at her knives. He frowned. “What’s this?”

  Lana put a little sheepishness into her smile as she turned her back away from him. “Seahaven defense system. A girl can’t be too careful working late.” She forced herself to not look in the direction of the desk. She could only hope the sidhe was too distracted to pay attention to their conversation.

  “You know you’re not supposed to have stuff like that in the building, Sandra.”

  She nodded and turned the wattage on her smile up just a little. “You’re right. I’ll leave it in the car.” She pushed against the door. It had locked again.

  Gary looked at her for a moment.

  “Door?” She smiled. Her heart hammered.

  He nodded and swiped his card. The door clicked again and Lana pushed it open. “Have a good night, Sandra.”

  She waved with her free hand. “‘Night!”

  Lana watched through the glass as Gary turned away before she turned to make her brisk way down the drive. The rift, the army… she finally knew what Midir was planning and it threw her own desperately laid plan to the wind. She had been in over her head before.

  Now she was drowning.

  She needed help. Midir had to be stopped, and she knew of only one person she could turn to who had a connection to the courts, who might help her.

  She had to find Etienne Queen’s Son.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Etienne threw his arm over his face, but the banging continued. Cian made a sound of sleepy protest beside him and rolled over onto his belly, pulling the pillow over his head. Etienne sat up and dragged his legs over the side of the bed, the remains of the wine making his head swim. Hadn’t they just gone to bed? Winter had been right; Katherine was an excellent hostess. But it seemed that vampires were even worse than fae when it came to carousing all night and the hours had flown by in drink and music and conversation. Etienne found the clock on the nightstand and frowned.

  They really had just gone to bed. What the hell? More infernal banging.

  “What is it?” Cian asked from beneath the pillow.

  Etienne stood up and snagged his jeans from the end of the bed. “I don’t know. Maybe a patient for Winter. I’ll find out.”

  “You want me to come down?”

  Etienne buttoned his fly, pulled his t-shirt on, and clipped the semi-auto’s holster to the waistband at the small of his back. “No. At least one of us should get some sleep.” He slipped Agmundr’s rig over his arms and caught up his worn flannel shirt as he made his barefoot way out of the tiny bedroom.

  “Be careful.”

  He gave a small smile despite his irritation. “I will. Now go back to sleep.” He pulled the door shut behind him.

  Etienne scratched the side of his scarred face and yawned as he pushed through the beaded curtain. He frowned even harder when he saw a short woman on the other side of the shop glass, knocking away at the door frame. She was looking over her shoulder as her hand worked, her long black hair in disarray, and did not see him emerge. Seemed like trouble was looking for Winter early today. He glanced at the night-black sky. Or late. Dawn was not far away, but still had yet to make an appearance.

  As he reached the door she turned back and visibly startled as she saw him. Etienne ignored it. Even though the store was dark, this close to the glass the streetlights must have illuminated his scars. Some people, usually women, had stronger reactions to them than others. The ones on his face and neck were the most obvious, the ones he could not hide. Men also noticed them, of course, but tended to either tough out the reaction and ignore them entirely or take them as a signal to test out their own stupidity.

  He flipped the deadbolt and pulled the door open just enough to talk comfortably through. “What?” Then he rethought that. Maybe he should be politer. She was probably looking for Winter. “Do you need something?”

  She smiled at him. “Etienne Queen’s Son?” She spoke in Faerie Gaelic.

  This couldn’t be good. “We’re closed.” He shut the door and locked it.

  “Wait!” Her voice was muffled by the glass. He moved away from the door and considered calling Winter… but she was exhausted as it was. She needed what sleep she could get. “Please! I need your help.”

  Etienne clenched his jaw. His gaze had never really left her, but he had stopped looking at her face – her hands and core would be more informative of what kind of threat she posed. Either casting or going for a weapon, the movements would involve her hands. Now he looked and wished he hadn’t. Her eyes were glassy with fear and he saw the smile had been a façade. He wanted no part of whatever this was. Cian was just upstairs and though Etienne was indeed a knight he was no hero. He did not need a damsel in distress.

  He unlocked the door and opened it again. “How do you know my name?”

  “Let me in and I’ll tell you everything.” She was bouncing in small motions with nerves. He looked at her more closely. Sidhe, but not pure, like himself. Though not human, either. Probably some sort of fae mix.

  Etienne stepped back and she moved past him into the store front. “Stop. That’s as far as you go.”

  “But the streetlights…”

  He scowled, but moved and pushed aside the beaded curtain. “Fine, back here.”

  She ducked under his raised arm and rushed into the dark sanctuary of the clinic. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me, yet,” he said as he followed her. “I haven’t heard what you have to say. I’m not ruling out throwing you back outside.”

  She turned to face him as he glowered at her. “This is about Midir the Proud and Prince Senán. You’re here looking for them, aren’t you?”

  “One of them.” Etienne crossed his arms. “You seem to know a lot about my business for someone I don’t know.”

  She tried the smile again. “My name is Lana.” It was a good smile, full of vaguely worded promises, hints at what could be offered for the right price. It went well with her lush curves.

  He wasn’t in the mood to buy. “Tell me something more useful.”

  She gave him a pretty frown, which was even more impressive than the smile. “I see your reputation does you justice.”

  “Yeah, I’m an uncouth half-breed. Either start talking or stop wasting my time.”

  The girl – and as he studied her he decided she couldn’t have more than two centuries on her at the most – took a breath and started talking. “Midir is opening a rift, an enormous rift, in the lowest sub-basement of his office tower. He’s been gathering fae there, I think for weeks – Senán told me Midir has been ‘hiring’ for an ‘expansion,’” she made a strange gesture in the air with her fingers as she placed emphasis on each word, “and now the building is packed with them.”

  “You’ve spoken to Senán?”

  Lana nodded. “I’m his girlfriend.” She said the last word in English and it took a moment for Etienne to parse it out. Faerie Gaelic did not have an equivalent term – either there were lovers, casual and otherwise, or beloved in the bonds of True Love, or one had a mistress or concubine or other such power relationship. Marriage existed and divorce did not for once such vows were made they could not be foresworn. As a result, most who chose to be bound in marriage did not swear eternal fidelity.

  “Fine, go on.”

  She blinked, her expression intense. “Don’t you see what he’s doing?”

  “Enlighten me.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Midir deprived two kings, two of his brothers, of their heirs, one by kidnapping and one by murder. He destabilized two faerie realms and now he’s building an army and opening a rift.” She paused, watching his face. “He’s planning to invade and take both realms for himself.”

  Etienne furrowed his brows. “Why would he do that? He’s never been interested in having a kingdom before.”<
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  Lana snorted. “Of course he has. Where have you been?”

  He gave her a wry look. “I’m not exactly welcome in the courts. Half-breed and all. How about you?”

  “I don’t have that problem.”

  “Oh, you’re not a half-breed?”

  “Ooh, nasty case of sarcasm you have there. No, I mean I’m more welcome in the courts than you. And Midir has always wanted his own kingdom, which everybody in the courts knows, but he let his brothers talk him out of it in exchange for fostering their heirs.”

  “Except I know of one king who didn’t do that.”

  “And I know of another. And guess who lost their heirs?”

  “King Anluan is the only one I heard of who had a child in the recent past. The prince Midir murdered was pushing nine-hundred-years-old. His father didn’t foster him to Midir?”

  Lana nodded. “Him and his younger brother.”

  “Why didn’t he kill the younger prince, too, then?”

  “Someone else got to him, first. About five hundred years ago.”

  “Huh. And everyone asks why I avoid the courts.”

  She tilted her head like a bird. “I thought you said you weren’t welcome.”

  “The feeling is mutual. So,” he shifted before she could pursue the conversation worm, “you think Midir wants to invade the kingdoms of the princes he violated. Which would be King Anluan and what’s the other one’s name? Kal-something?” The one with the mad queen.

  “King Ceallach.”

  “Midir’s been sitting on his resentment for a long time, if the younger prince has been dead for five centuries.” He thought for a moment and then shrugged. “You know, I can have sympathy for this Ceallach, but I don’t give a rat’s ass what happens to Anluan.”