Burnt Silver

by H A Titus

  Yeah, trust a turncoat curator. Seems smart.

  I turned so that my body mostly blocked my arm as I ran my hand along the wall, where Cori had pointed. Cool, smooth marble slid beneath my fingertips, and then I staggered a bit as my hand dipped through an illusion into a hallway. I glanced quickly around the room again, then backed into the wall, feeling the glamour around me, slick and clinging like a fine mist.

  When I blinked again, I was standing in a dark hallway. A shimmering mist blocked off the entryway, mimicking the pattern of marble on the walls. If I squinted, I could see beyond it into the ballroom, where the fae still danced and the music still played.

  It worked. I sighed.

  I scanned the dimly lit hallway. There was only one doorway, set on the right-hand wall about ten feet from the hallway entrance. I pulled leather gloves from my pocket, slipped them on, then stepped up and pressed my hand flat against the door's surface, listening. No sounds came from within.

  I gently pushed it open. At the motion, light flared up in the room. I glanced at the row of lantern-like sconces on the walls on either side of the door as I let the door swing shut behind me.

  Drake's office was richly paneled in dark wood. Weirdly, the walls were bare, except for the bookshelf to the left of the door that was stacked with neat, orderly books of all kinds, though most of them looked old. I stepped up to the shelf and ran my finger across some of the spines. Most of the titles had to do with curses, the occult, or magic. I snorted. "Power monger."

  Did Drake really think that this kind of thing would help him in his quest for stronger glamour? And why did he want more anyway? From what Aileen said, Drake had to be one of the more powerful fae in America, at least.

  I quickly riffled through some of the papers stacked on his desk around a central workspace on the hard wood surface. Business receipts, orders, inventory—apparently the guy didn't believe in using electronics for any part of his business. I found an old-style ledger and flipped it open, scanning through the pages. Nothing caught my eye.

  I growled in frustration. Josh would be better at this kind of thing than me. I slapped the ledger shut and moved back from the desk, rolling up the edge of the rug on the floor. I could just make out the square cut into the flooring. I pried it up and set the square aside.

  The hidden safe was set into the floor. I swore again, reaching down to jiggle the knob. What had Josh said about cracking safes? I closed my eyes and tried to recall the crash course he'd given me, based on his research and the type of safe Aileen thought Airgead had.

  Which way did the handle turn? I jiggled it again. It clicked a little going counterclockwise, but barely moved if I tried to turn it clockwise. I made a fist and slammed the heel of my hand into the safe just above the digital display, then quickly wrenched the knob counterclockwise.

  Nothing.

  "Dammit." I hit the safe again and turned the knob.

  Once again, the safe remained firmly closed.

  I leaned back on my heels for a second and took a deep breath. If this whole plan failed because I couldn't get the safe open, they were screwed. The Lucht would get the pathstone. The whole world would be screwed if that happened.

  I slammed my fist into the safe again and jerked the knob counterclockwise.

  The locked clicked, and the door popped open.

  I huffed out a laugh. "Thank you, Almighty," I whispered, flipping open the safe. It only took a moment of digging to unearth the wooden box Aileen had described. I opened it and dumped the stone out into my gloved hand.

  My heart skipped a beat, seeing the white palm-sized stone. After years of searching, I was finally holding one of the relics Iain and Emily had died for. I pressed my lips together. Swallowed the lump forming in my throat.

  "Eliaster?"

  My pulse sped and I spun around, stuffing the stone into my jacket pocket.

  Banshee.

  Crap.

  She stood in the doorway, wearing her usual dark clothes. I couldn't see any weapons on her, but with the party going on, she would have to be discreet. She took one step forward, mouth open, her eyes darting around the room, taking in the disturbed papers on the desk, the open safe.

  "So you're working for Airgead now. Can't say I'm surprised." I smirked.

  Her eyes locked on me, and her lips pressed into a thin line. "Hand it over." She held out her free hand.

  I kept my hands to my sides.

  "Don't make me shoot you, Eliaster."

  "Will you?" I snapped back, stepping up to her. "Will you shoot me, Banshee? I've gotten in your sights plenty of times before now, and you've made that threat plenty of times before. Somehow I doubt this is the night you'll make good on it."

  Her voice trembled. "You don't want to do this. If you make an enemy of Drake Airgead—"

  I snorted, started to walk past her.

  She grabbed my shoulder.

  I spun, aiming my elbow at her midsection.

  Banshee twisted to the side. Her boot crunched into the back of my leg. I grunted and stumbled to my right knee. I kicked my left leg out, trying to sweep her feet out from under her. "Banshee, I don't want to hurt—"

  Her foot cracked into the side of my head.

  I lost my grip on the stone, and a second later I hit the ground, the room spinning around me. I blinked hard, was barely able to focus on Banshee's face. She planted her knee in my gut, pressing her hands against my shoulders, and stared down at me for a moment, breathing heavily.

  Then she swore. "How'd you get this?" She pulled Henry's pendant from under my shirt. Yanked hard enough to snap the chain. She shoved it into her pocket, then grabbed the pathstone from where it had fallen on the ground.

  I growled and scrambled up. "Give that back."

  "I'm sorry. I can't."

  "Banshee—"

  "Do you know what Drake Airgead would do to me if he found out you'd stolen this?" she snapped. "He knows we're friends, Eliaster. He'll take this out on me!"

  "And are you aware of who he'll sell it to?" I flung my hand outward. Warmth skittered along my skin, gathering along my left forearm. Had she even thought about this? "Do you want Fear Doirich to rise from the shell of Tir Ni-all and begin slaying and enslaving us all again? Do you want this world broken and destroyed like Tir Ni-all?"

  Banshee hesitated, just enough. That was all I needed.

  I lunged forward, closing my hand around her wrist and twisting it. The stone dropped from her fingers and I scooped it up. I looked up at Banshee's face. Her eyes were wide with surprise.

  Then she wrenched her wrist hard and kneed me in the gut.

  I staggered to the side, gasping. Banshee's fist grazed the side of my face. I stumbled back, caught her next blow, and shoved her hard against the wall. Then I turned and ran for the entryway.

  Banshee hit me low in the back, catapulting me through the glamour. A loud, shrill chime echoed over my head as we hit the ground and rolled, slamming into the legs of several people. I heard screams as I stood. Banshee was already stomping back toward me. Another chime sounded, louder than the first.

  Well, at least the noise would alert Josh. I stepped my right foot back, tightened my grip on the stone, and raised my fists.

  Despite all our planning, looked like we were going to have to fight our way out after all. Josh was right—it was just like a heist movie.

  CHAPTER 31

  JOSH

  As we headed up the stairs, Drake smiled and nodded to the fae we passed. I tried to keep relaxed, tried to walk naturally, even though every nerve in my body screamed at me to run. My stomach rolled, and not just from nerves—this guy had my fight or flight instinct doing pinwheels.

  "So," he murmured in my ear. "I'd be interested in knowing how a human got hold of one of my invitations."

  I let my smile widen a little as I pulled away from him. "Aw, c'mon, Drake, you don't expect me to reveal my sources just like that, do you? Surely you can respect the secrecy that comes with this kind of bu
siness."

  Drake raised his chin slightly, eyes narrowing. "Go on."

  I shrugged. "I was just given the invitation and told that you might have a few … items I'd be interested in acquiring."

  Drake smiled thinly. "You'll have to be more specific than that. I have many items that may be of interest or all sorts of people."

  Breathe. Keep breathing. Keep acting. "This would be one of the more rare things you've found, potentially the only one of its kind. One that could potentially open worlds of possibility."

  Something flashed in Drake's eyes. "Ah." He stepped back from me, and his smile widened. "I'm sorry, but I very much doubt you could afford the asking price for such a thing."

  Panic thrummed through me. "I—I might not be able to, but my employers certainly would."

  "I thought you said you were a free man."

  "Free body and soul, but I have certain … skills … that are in high demand." My palms were sweating. I pushed my hands into my pockets.

  Drake looked me over again, and I could practically see him calculating, reassessing. "Who are your employers?"

  "Cormac and Eliaster Tyrone."

  I saw a flash of recognition in his eyes when I said Eliaster's name.

  A second later, his smile widened. I liked the look on him even less than the small, smirk he'd first worn. "Of course," he said. "Please, come this way."

  The sudden shift in attitude actually genuinely scared me. I honestly hadn't expected that to work. How did he know the Tyrones, and especially Eliaster, by name? Why did that make such a big difference?

  He motioned, and Altru walked ahead of us by several paces. He reached for a spot on the wall, and a door, so seamless as to be practically invisible, swung open. Drake went inside. I looked over my shoulder, scanned the crowd. No Eliaster. Hopefully he'd managed to slip away unseen.

  I stepped into the room. A large stone fireplace occupied a good portion of the back wall, with a bar to one side and multiple leather chairs arranged around a coffee table. Oversized bookshelves dominated the windowless walls. Unlike the library back home, these bookshelves were neat, orderly, each leather bound book precise and straight.

  "Please, sit." Drake motioned to one of the chairs. Without asking, he walked over to the bar and began pouring a couple of drinks.

  I turned to glance over my shoulder. Altru stood behind me, close enough to make me jump. The door was already closed. I hadn't heard it close. Sweat broke along my forehead and back, and I shrugged, adjusting my jacket. Why did I suddenly feel like I was trapped in here? I really wished Eliaster were here. I swallowed and walked over to the chair that Drake had indicated, sitting down. It made my skin itch to be sitting with my back to the door, but I tried to shrug the feeling off. It wasn't like Drake would kill me. I was a potential customer. He had more to gain by not harming me.

  Yeah, I didn't believe my little personal pep talk for a second. I licked my lips as I sat down, flexed my hands. Tried to remind myself that it was okay if I screwed this up. Aileen had said her father would never let a pathstone go to a Seelie buyer. So now, I just had to make him believe that I trusted his integrity enough to seriously negotiate with him.

  Drake came over and handed me a glass of something golden brown, then sat in the chair opposite. "Now that we're in private, do you mind speaking plainly? What relic is it exactly that you're hunting down for the Tyrones?"

  "A pathstone," I quietly.

  Drake leaned back in his chair and half-closed his eyes. "That's fascinating. Not generally the kind of thing I advertise. I wonder how you came upon that piece of information."

  "Am I wrong?" I asked.

  Drake held his glass up to the light, spun it slowly so that the liquor sparkled. "No. No, you aren't wrong. It's just … well, this should make things interesting." He looked over at his bodyguard. "Altru, would you please go fetch our other guests? Thank you."

  Other guests? I tried not to stiffen up as I thought about that. As far as I knew, there weren't that many other people who knew about the pathstones.

  Altru was gone barely a minute before the door creaked back open, He stepped to the side, holding it as two fae walked into the room. My stomach dropped to my toes, and I had to fight the urge to scramble out of my chair and get it between me and them.

  Blodheyr didn't notice me. His blue eyes settled right on Drake. Larae, however, did see me. Her eyes widened a fraction, then narrowed even as her lips bloomed into a smile that was mocking yet somehow oozing seduction.

  Crap. Larae would never believe the Tyrones had let me come here on my own.

  "Well, Josh MacAllister. Fancy meeting you here." As Larae said my name, Blodheyr stiffened, and his attention snapped to me.

  A slow smile crept across his thin, wide lips. "Joshua. So nice to see you again." He paused, then added, "Shame about Marc."

  I set my glass down on the side table by my chair, because if I held onto it, I'd end up throwing it in that self-satisfied Unseelie's face. Gah. I hated it when fae smiled. I glared at him.

  Drake stepped into the middle of the room, rubbing his hands together. "Would either of you care for a drink?"

  Blodheyr nodded. "Yes, please. I have a certain mix in mind—here, let me show you."

  They walked over to the bar.

  I casually put my hand in my pocket and slid the ring into place on my index finger. It was probably a bad idea, but this whole situation was rapidly turning into a choose-your-own-adventure of bad ideas.

  As I spun the ring so that the gem faced my palm, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. Blodheyr's voice pulled at me, and memories flashed in the edge of my vision—memories I'd rather forget. I had to keep hold of myself, had to keep the flashbacks at bay. Not here, not now.

  Silk rustled, and something brushed my leg. I opened my eyes. Larae had sat on the arm of my chair, legs crossed, one sandal-clad foot brushing against my leg. She smiled down at me, bright violet eyes almost glowing against the backdrop of pale skin and dark, turquoise-streaked hair.

  I shoved myself back, my heart nearly bursting from my chest. Cold shivers raked down my spine, and the scar on my wrist sent a hot throb of pain into my fingers. I slowly clenched and released that hand, trying to work the arthritic feeling from my knuckles.

  "It is good to see you again, Josh," Larae said quietly. "Despite the fact that we're on opposing sides. I worry about you."

  "Don't," I snapped. "I can take care of myself."

  She put her hand on my arm. "But can you?"

  I stared at her, brain whirling. What kind of game was she playing? Her eyes glimmered, and for a split second, I almost believed. Almost thought, maybe she does care. Almost smiled.

  Then I saw the glamour weaving light around her face, softening the edges of her smile, of her eyes. I blinked, and the image popped. Her smile almost had a predatory edge to it now. I reached out, fumbling for my drink. My hands wouldn't stop trembling as I took a sip, the liquid burning down my throat. Fine, let her see. She already knew I was afraid. Maybe I could use it against her.

  "Where's Eliaster?" she asked.

  "None of your business." I kicked her foot away from my leg.

  She nearly fell off the chair arm.

  "Larae, leave him alone," Blodheyr muttered. "You've had your fun."

  Larae's stare shot daggers at me as she got up and moved to the other side of the room.

  I smiled and said loudly, "Hey Drake, when are we gonna get to the proceedings? I'm getting bored."

  Blodheyr turned from the bar, his glare matching Larae's.

  That's right. Underestimate me all you want, old man. I'm not cowering any longer.

  Drake chuckled and took his seat. He waved for Blodheyr and Larae to sit. "Well, of course. By all means, let us get to business."

  He gave Larae and Blodheyr a moment to get settled before continuing.

  "I don't think there's any point in being secretive any longer. You're all looking for pathsto
nes." He grinned, propping his elbows on the arms of his chair, and clasped his hands under his chin. "The epic struggle of the ages, Seelie and Unseelie, each battling for dominance over the long-hidden paths. Who will bring Tir Ni-all back to us?"

  "May I remind you which Court you've sworn loyalty to, Airgead," Blodheyr said drily.

  "But that doesn't mean I can't enjoy myself!" Drake leaned back. He picked up his drink, then waved it back and forth between the sides of the room. "Who wants to open the bidding?"

  I swallowed, recalling Aileen's warning that her father wouldn't be looking for money. For a relic this rare, this powerful, he wouldn't be asking for cold, hard cash. He'd be asking for something else. A trade in relics? A favor? I shuddered at the idea of owing Drake Airgead a favor. Either way, there really wasn't a lot of good I could do here.

  Dang it, Eliaster, hurry.

  "Perhaps this." Larae leaned forward and held out a small, clear crystal, about the size of a marble and in the shape of a teardrop. Something smoky swirled inside, but from where I sat, I couldn't quite make out what.

  Drake raised his eyebrows. "I feel like I should be insulted that you began the bidding so low. A memory? What would I do with that?"

  "I'll remind you who and what I am," Larae said. "I remember things you have no knowledge of, Drake. I could make another, with a memory of your choosing. What do you want to know? A secret of glamour? An old way of the sidhé that will grow your power?"

  Drake laughed. "I'm pretty sure I have that well under control, so I'll decline." He looked over at me. "Do you have anything to offer, Mr. MacAllister?"

  I froze, my brain spinning like a hamster wheel. What did I have that—

  An idea hit like a snowball between the eyes, and I blurted it out before I had second thoughts. "Information."

  "Hmm. An interesting choice as well. Please, elaborate."

  "You asked me earlier how I'd gotten my hands on an invitation. I could tell you that. How we found you. How we figured out that you knew where a pathstone was." I could so easily spin this. Slide suspicion away from Aileen and Cori. Shaughnessy would probably suffer for it, but I was having a really hard time feeling sorry for him.