Shoot the Messenger

by Pippa Dacosta

  We walked down the glass halls, Larsen attracting glances from Arcon staff, and paused outside a clear-walled office. Inside, Sota sat silent on his dock. I tried the door, but it didn’t budge.

  “Nobody goes in or out without my authorization,” Larsen explained.

  I pressed my hand to the glass wall. Sota’s red eye was a constant glow. His charge light blinked. My friend. My only friend in the three systems.

  “You will do everything I ask,” Larsen spoke softly. “While in public, you will act as though we are acquaintances. If you try to alert the authorities or contact anyone, I will punish him.”

  Sota? I mentally called. Silence came back. “Is he mentally intact?” I asked, looking up to find Larsen’s hideous smile firmly on his lips.

  “Yes. He fought our every attempt to crack him open. He has a filthy vocabulary for a tactical drone.”

  Sota had picked up some of the more colorful language from the sinks and delighted in shocking message recipients with oddly placed swear words in the middle of their messages. I smiled at the memory. He had fought. Good for him.

  If I had come sooner, if I had stopped Larsen in his meeting room instead of running…

  “You gave him life. Obey me, and your gift will continue.”

  Obey me. Everything about that order made my skin crawl. I’d spent my entire life obeying them. I had obeyed them until it almost cost me my life, and it had certainly cost the queen hers. “For how long am I supposed to pretend?”

  “When your usefulness has expired, I will let you know.”

  I arched an eyebrow. He didn’t want to kill me. All I had to do was pretend to know him as the human Istvan Larsen while I plotted the best way to kill him. In the meantime, I’d garner as much information about his operation and motives for being here and pass that information on to someone who could do something about it. Someone like Kellee. Inside, I smiled. “Agreed.”

  He nodded. “Now follow me.”

  We walked through Arcon, floor after floor after floor. Miles of corridors, through a sprawling mass of glass laboratories, weapons development and the day-to-day administration of such a vast company. Wherever he went, people showered Larsen with attention. Staff would fall into step beside him and debrief him on the latest profit margins. Others would stop Larsen and chat like they were the best of friends. The more I watched, the more my insides clenched in anxiety at the depth of his deception. His act went beyond a charade. He lived this role, breathed it, became it. There was danger in illusion. It was too easy to fall into the trappings of another life. Hadn’t I done the same as Kesh Lasota?

  The glass pyramid façade was just Arcon’s frontage. Its collection of buildings spread outward, into neighboring locations, like a university campus scattered across miles of land, and much of Arcon lay buried beneath street level in areas Larsen avoided.

  He barely said a word to me the entire time I walked at his side, and without an introduction, his people also ignored me. But they were curious, casting me keen glances as we passed by. I figured the young CEO rarely had company.

  Any questions I asked, he ignored.

  Several times I lingered near clearly marked exits, instincts plucking on my determination, urging me to flee. But running would solve nothing. I was exactly where I needed to be.

  Finally, the tour ended in the long meeting room where I’d leaped through a window. That section of glass had been repaired with a metal plate. From the outside, it must have looked like a blemish on Arcon’s perfect façade.

  Larsen moved around his oak chair, running his hand along the carved back. The oak wasn’t from Earth, I realized. It had been carved as a single piece from the vast oaks—the original trees—found on Faerie. Seeing it there, I could almost smell the accompanying rain and hear its sweet symphony as it fell on the lush undergrowth, lifting delicate puffs of magic into the air. The oak chair would have lost its ingrained fae magic a long time ago, but that didn’t stop his touch from lingering, perhaps imagining the same as me.

  He looked my way, unblinking, daring me to ask all the questions clamoring in my head. I wanted to know what he was doing here, what the point was in all of this, and I wanted to ask if he missed Faerie like I did. But more than anything else, I wanted to know his name. As much as he pretended to be Larsen, he wasn’t human and never would be. The same as I would never be fae. I needed to know his name.

  He came around the front of the chair and lowered himself into it. When he looked away, I caught the flicker of pain crossing his face. Dropping his head back, he closed his eyes. He still wore the human illusion, but this young human male had suddenly aged.

  “A long time ago,” he began, keeping his eyes closed, “we would pluck humans from their lives and have them live among us on Faerie. We replaced them with one of our own, a changeling adept at pretending to be human so no one would miss them. In those times, their tek hadn’t advanced to the levels of today…” He opened his eyes and blinked, refocusing on the room and me. “It was harmless.”

  “I know the tales.” And it was a long way from harmless if you were one of the humans the fae had taken.

  “We would make them dance and sing. And the foolish creatures always fell in love with us, with Faerie.”

  I turned my attention to the windows and Calicto sparkling outside. Some aspects of Faerie hadn’t changed at all in thousands of years. They still lured humans into their games and killed them with their so-called kindness.

  “When we grew bored, in days or years, we would send them back to their world, back to Earth.”

  Where they would die, I thought. They all died, wilted like flowers cut at the stem. The cruelty didn’t come from taking the people. The game was all about sending them home again and watching the human rant and scream and demand to return to the world they had come to love. A world that to anyone else, didn’t exist. To love the fae was a madness. And the fae knew it.

  When he didn’t continue his tale, I looked back and found his face turned to the glass, his sharp features in profile. He knew what those tragic humans had gone through because, cut from Faerie, he felt it too.

  “How long have you been here?” I asked.

  He hesitated and then lifted a hand, tossing away time as though it meant nothing. Did he even know how long? Something the imprisoned fae, Talen, had said came back to me: no fae would willingly put themselves through this agony. Not only was Larsen severed from everything he knew and loved, but he also endured day after day surrounded by human tek. He had built up a resistance, but it must have still pained him. Was it a punishment? I’d assumed he was doing all of this deliberately, but what if I’d been wrong? What if his act was a prison?

  I smiled, realizing the trap I’d fallen into. Sympathizing with my jailor. A novice mistake, and one I knew to avoid. It seemed I had forgotten much in five years.

  “Strange, how I stumble upon the Wraithmaker, of all creatures,” he mused, still gazing out of the window. “In all the three systems, on all the countless planets, you are the messenger I hired to take the blame for a murder.” His gaze cut to me. “What brought you to Calicto?”

  “It was the destination of the first ship I boarded after escaping Faerie. Why did you kill Crater?”

  He ignored my question and frowned. “How did you escape?”

  I smiled instead of answering. I wasn’t about to tell him, considering I may have to escape again soon.

  “I’m not sure I believe you,” he said, candidly. “The odds are impossible. You found me here, of all places, by chance? No, I don’t think that’s what happened.” He pushed from his chair, his movements hardening. “Humans lie as easily as they breathe. You have no honor, no integrity. That’s why they sent you.” He approached, intent punctuating each stride.

  I stood my ground, even when he stopped too close, filling everything with his pretend Istvan Larsen with his sharp suit and the charming glint in his eye. Who was the greater liar here? He may not lie with his words—those we
re the only part of him that couldn’t lie—but the rest of him wove lies as easily as he wove illusions.

  Whatever he had planned to do fizzled away under my glare. Instead, he touched my coat shoulder and ran his fingers down a seam. He pined so for home that he sought out its touch anywhere and everywhere.

  His head tilted and his eyes narrowed, losing some of their shallow human sheen. He wore biotek lenses to hide their true radiance, but now that I knew what I was looking for, I saw through it to the reality hidden inside. And what lurked in there wasn’t entirely whole. This fae—whoever he was—was broken.

  Chapter 14

  Over the next few days, Larsen continued to lead me around Arcon like his new pet. Any questions about me were met with vague dismissals. I let it happen, absorbing the layout of the building and all the information. As far as captivity went, I’d endured worse.

  His lingering gazes and unspoken questions indicated he didn’t trust me. His paranoid mind had concocted some conspiracy with me at its center. When we were above the basement—the name I’d given my underground prison—he didn’t leave my side. I’d slipped away a few times while he’d been distracted, but he always knew where I’d be before I did. The one time I had tried to break into Sota’s room, he’d appeared at my side minutes after I thought I had given him the slip. It was uncanny. But then, he was fae. Albeit a lonely, insane, underpowered one. But he did have magic. I felt it in his gaze and in the rare times his fingers brushed mine. Either he knew how to preserve it, or he had a source to draw from hidden somewhere. All fae carried their own magical reserve, but it was reduced when away from Faerie. The longer they spent away from their home, the more wraith-like they became. It was why the fae—with their superior power—didn’t inhabit all three star systems. That and the fact humans insisted on creating more and more tek, poisoning the fae’s backyard.

  The latest outing Larsen insisted I join him on involved a party-like gathering. One of Arcon’s training auditoriums had been transformed with enormous ribbon bows and spiraling decorations. Apparently, it was Arcon’s thirty-year anniversary. Tek surveillance had obviously existed before Arcon, but they’d taken it and now owned the industry. Or rather, Larsen owned it. He was the star of the show. Everyone wanted a piece of the young, dynamic CEO.

  I did my part, shadowing Larsen until he allowed me to break away and sample some of the exotic food spread across several tables.

  “Hi.” A woman thrust her hand at me and beamed a bright smile. “I’m Sindy. I work for Istvan. He keeps you so close. Everyone’s been dying to meet you.”

  I finished the mouthful of rice and some kind of vegetable that had tasted divine after my dull diet of packet food. “Hey.” I took her hand and gave it a friendly shake. “Kesh.”

  She had referred to Larsen by his first name. Few of his staff did that. That either put her in his inner circle or she was lying to make it appear as though they were friends. I couldn’t recall ever seeing her, but then, Larsen appeared to cut several of Arcon’s departments out of my regular tours.

  I picked up another rice parcel and devoured it. I’d eat the whole damn spread given enough time, then I imagined Larsen watching me hoard food and equally imagined the bastard’s thrill at seeing his control over me. Suddenly, the food didn’t look so tempting.

  “So, what do you do for Istvan?” Sindy asked, flicking her razor-straight bangs back. “Karlo in accounting thinks you’re an investor, but I… well…” She raked her gaze over me. “Some of us think you’re an apprentice. Yah know, someone he’s training for a high end executive role.”

  Her thinly veiled skepticism and jealousy might as well have been a luminescent sign blinking over her head. I glanced across the room in time to catch Larsen’s eye. He saw who I was standing with and promptly excused himself from his little gaggle of groupies. I had about eight seconds of fun before he ruined it.

  I smiled at Sindy and beckoned her closer. “I’ll tell you, if you can keep a secret.”

  “Oh.” Her eyes lit up. She stepped closer in her needle-point heels. “Do tell.”

  “He keeps me in the basement.”

  She laughed. I didn’t.

  I picked up a tiny parcel of sweet pastry, my mouth watering. “He’s not who you think he is.”

  “Kesh.” Larsen stood rigidly behind Sindy’s shoulder.

  He said my name like he was lashing a whip. I grinned back at the fake man and popped the pastry parcel into my mouth, crunching down. Sindy—pale-faced and confused—teetered off. Foolish human.

  Larsen stepped to my side, easing his hand around my arm and holding me firmly at his side. His magic tingled, his illusion active. He pretended to admire the food while the party continued behind him. “I warned you.”

  “Hmm,” I mumbled. All these smiling, happy people. What would they say if I yelled out the truth? Larsen would probably cover it up with a laugh and a joke. No one would believe me.

  My gaze snagged on a familiar face standing still in the crowd. Artfully tousled hair, keen eyes reading the scene, but no smile. This was the last place Marshal Kellee wanted to be. My heart stuttered at the sight of him. Larsen had no use for the lawman. If Kellee got in his way, Larsen would kill him.

  He saw me. People filtered back and forth between us, but his gaze locked on me and then skipped to the man at my side. I knew how it looked. Larsen stood too close, his hand on my arm. Here I was, apparently enjoying the party next to the camouflaged fae. Betrayal hardened Kellee’s frown. I wanted to shout to him, that it wasn’t what it looked like.

  “What part of your drone’s beloved character shall I delete for this indiscretion?” Larsen asked, amusement dancing in his voice.

  Kellee began to turn. I clenched my teeth together. Wait! He was so close, just across the room, and he was leaving because his fears had been realized. I’d lied to him. I was fae. He’d come to check, and now he had seen what he thought was confirmation of all his suspicions.

  I had to stop him. I had to reach him without Larsen knowing.

  I yanked down my coat collar. Fabric tore. I didn’t care. Kellee hesitated. Confusion crossed his face.

  “What are you doing?” Larsen demanded. He saw the glimmer of iron resting around my neck and twisted to face the crowd, seeking the source of my fixation.

  So many witnesses, but Kellee had gone. There one second, vanished the next. He was good at that.

  I grinned at Larsen.

  Larsen’s human appearance flickered. He towered over me, sneering, his grip on my arm turning to iron like the collar around my neck. He pulled me off the floor and through a doorway, not caring that his staff all watched it happen. I would pay for this. Either by way of Sota or imprisonment. I’d pushed him too far.

  I twisted in his grip and bucked, but his fingers dug harder into my arm. I brought my arm up, over his, and slammed it down, breaking his hold. He reached for me again, but I lunged away, almost free. He snatched my coat, yanking me off balance, but instead of falling into him, I dipped my weight sideways, dropped to my hands and elbowed his weight-bearing knee out from under him. He tumbled to the floor on his side. In a whirl, I slipped free of my coat, kicked the garment over his face and pinned it down, digging my knee into his chest. My hands fit neatly around his throat, holding the coat over his face. He flailed, blindly grabbing for my head.

  Figures blurred in the corners of my vision. More witnesses. I didn’t care. It would solve a lot of problems if I killed Larsen here and now.

  Someone shouted at me to stop. Someone else barked to call the law. Will they send Kellee?

  “Kesh…” Larsen hissed, accusing or begging.

  Yes, beg. Beg like all the others did while your kin’s cheering filled my head. The scent of citrus spiked the air. His power leached out of him. His illusions wouldn’t save him. I squeezed tighter.

  The lights went out.

  Darkness flooded the corridor, and with it came a rush of citrusy magic.

  “Kesh…�
� Queen Mab whispered in my ear.

  Larsen bucked. My grip slipped. He twisted. Fingers snatched my arm, yanking me toward him. I searched the dark for her, already knowing it was a trick, a terrible hope used against me. But if there was a chance she was here…

  Larsen hauled me to my feet and pinned me against a wall. The solid weight of him smothered me, hemming me in. Darkness blinded me while a wall of male fae blocked my escape. People shouted. Movement stirred the shadows. I stilled. My thoughts slowed. Larsen’s racing heart beat so close to mine.

  Larsen’s short breaths tickled my ear. “Very good, Wraithmaker. Now let the entertainment begin.”

  Larsen wasn’t weak. The trick he had pulled in Arcon’s corridors, the darkness, the voices. Her voice. That took substantial magic. He had a source—somewhere. But it was impossible outside of Faerie. Wasn’t it?

  After my failed attempt to kill him and his odd enjoyment of the whole incident, he shut me in the basement. I immediately tried the door he closed behind me, only to find it opened into yet another empty room. I tried all the doors. All empty rooms. I wondered if the basement was an illusion too. One I was trapped in.

  I jogged the corridors, and then ran them until sweat glued my clothes to my skin. When the food and water stopped coming, I stopped exercising, needing to conserve my strength.

  He hadn’t left me this long before.