Covert Fae: A Demons of Fire and Night Novel (A Spy Among the Fallen)

by C. N. Crawford

  My hands and knees ached for the pavement, but I kept myself upright.

  Kratos. My fingers twitched, and I struggled to think through the dark, peaty haze in my mind.

  Clenching my jaw, I closed my eyes.

  I was looking for someone, someone I loved. I wanted her back. My sister… she had a name. My sister was Hazel. I’d come here to find her. Could this man help me, for some reason? Slowly, painfully, the thought began to take root.

  Along with another, clearer thought: the Hunter was probably going to kill me in a few seconds. Right. Focus. Survive.

  I stared at the shining angel, my rational mind trying to claw through the dirt. Stay still, Ruby. Stay very still.

  My legs began to shake, my teeth chattering, my mind unsure what I was about to do next. I needed to compose myself to ask about my sister…

  Instead, Feral Ruby just snarled. I began snarling loudly, the sound rumbling through my gut.

  One of the hounds prowled closer, scenting the air. His red eyes burned into me, and a crimson droplet fell from his canines to the cobblestones.

  Growling, I reached up to my forehead, where human blood had spattered my skin. With disgust, I felt myself smear the blood down my face.

  Ruby… no. I withered inside as Feral Ruby licked the blood off her fingers.

  The hound paused in its tracks, flattening its long pointed ears against its head as if staring at a ghost. Feral Ruby had managed to creep out even the hounds of hell. Maybe she was on to something, because the hounds didn’t seem to want to come any closer.

  Slowly, my rational mind began to claim more territory, digging its way out of the dirt.

  The angel leapt from his horse, eyes glowing amber in the gloom. Slowly, he stalked over to me, his gaze intent. His fluid movements suggested a tightly coiled violence just under the surface. My hackles rose, ready to fight.

  What do you think of a feral fae, Kratos? Primal violence roiled within me as he moved closer. I longed to sink my teeth into his perfect neck, to grow powerful on the blood of an angel.

  But Kratos was the first to attack.

  When he reached me, his hand shot out, and he gripped me by the collarbone, thumb grazing my throat. In one smooth motion, he had me pinned to the wall, his golden eyes penetrating right into my hazy mind. I bared my teeth, snarling at him, and yet I knew if he moved his thumb and pressed down, he’d crush my throat in an instant. Hot magic curled off his body, vibrating over my skin. He smelled like burning cedar.

  What does the blood of an angel taste like?

  His grip on my throat relaxed, but he moved his hand down to my shoulder, still pinning me in place with his impossible strength. With his free hand, he stroked my face, the light touch searing my skin. For a lethal angel, he was so gentle. I hadn’t expected him to be.

  He stared down at the blood staining his finger. “It’s a fae. A corrupted angel. See the blood, the pale hair. See her fangs, so much like a beast’s. I imagine these things rut in the street like vermin.”

  I had a vague sense that he was insulting me, but I could hardly focus on the words. Up close, his power washed over me, overwhelming me. A dark sweep of lashes framed his burnt-gold eyes, rimmed with umber. The urge to attack him had dissolved completely, leaving behind only the urge to get on my knees. For some reason, I resisted.

  “I knew the fae had fallen from the heavens,” he said. “I just didn’t realize how far. She’s a complete animal.”

  What was that thing I needed from him…?

  Hazel. The word rang in my mind again. Why did I have to encounter him like this, half-crazed, unable to control myself, when there was something I needed from him?

  He still pinned me against the wall, one hand on my collarbone. Slowly, his gaze slid down my body, then up again. He sniffed the air. “A skinny thing, bony even. She has those strange fae eyes, an unnatural silver. Yet somehow beautiful. If she weren’t so depraved, she’d actually be tempting. That is how the fae fell in the first place, you know. Lured by earthly temptations. Unable to control themselves.”

  Silver eyes. I’d faded completely. I gripped at his wrist, but it had no effect. I wanted things from him, but I couldn’t put them into words.

  He cocked his head, unperturbed by my struggle. “Strange that she should have such delicate porcelain skin.” He lowered his face, breathing in my scent. One of his hands stroked down the back of my hair, as if he were soothing me. “But do you know? I think she’s been eating rats.”

  For an instant, I saw myself through his eyes: a bestial fae, golden-haired, red of tooth and claw. Pupils gleaming silver. Through his eyes, I almost felt disgusted by myself. Once the fae had been angels like him, but we’d fallen to Earth, trapped by its temptations—by our love of food and dance, of sex and sunlight and the feel of rain on our skin. We’d changed over time, becoming more bestial, more animalistic.

  We weren’t angels anymore.

  He pulled his hands away from me, stepping back to study me. Then he brushed a strand of pale hair from my eyes. “I’m not wrong in thinking there is something strangely alluring about this beast, isn’t there, Culloch? Is that perverse of me?”

  It took me a moment to realize he was talking to his dog—that he’d been talking to his dog the whole time. That’s where I ranked in this hierarchy. Somewhere below his dogs.

  He frowned, cocking his head. “Adonis hates the fae with an unparalleled passion. I wonder what he’d do with this one?” Kratos’s lips curled. “Perhaps I’ll leave her alive for him.”

  With the immediate danger averted, my mind began to clear a little more, my rational self digging its way free. What had he said? Adonis. Through my murky thoughts, I tried to cling to the name, to store it for later use.

  Kratos stepped away from me, pulling out a gold handkerchief. “Leave her, Culloch. She’s more beast than human. A perverse temptation of the flesh, but one that will pollute your body.”

  Thanks, asshole.

  But as the fog cleared, I realized something about his tone—the note of affection when he spoke to his dogs. He loved his demonic hounds.

  Slowly, the hounds turned from me, disappearing into the swirling mists. Kratos mounted his horse again, his movements swift and graceful. He pulled his horse’s reins, and its footsteps clopped away over the pavement.

  As the sound of bellowing hounds faded, the sharp tip of my canines receded from my tongue.

  Apparently, all I had to do to survive in this world was to be absolutely disgusting.

  But I had another mission now. I had important information I could give to the Order. I had another angel’s name. And more importantly, I knew what Kratos truly loved. In this world, love was a vulnerability. It might be enough for the Order to recruit me.

  At the other end of the alley, two sentinels glided, their glassy black eyes watching everything.

  Chapter 8

  I didn’t know a ton about the world of espionage—just what I’d learned from my parents when they’d started to train me. Most importantly, I’d learned to be very careful whom I trusted.

  As you might imagine, my paranoia hadn’t eased at all since the angels had come to Earth. Supposedly, some humans fed information to the sentinels in exchange for food and protection. If I divulged my plans to anyone in my rookery, I risked exposure, or left them open to some kind of angelic torture.

  Plus, Alex would try to thwart my plans in an instant. He had a little overprotective streak when it came to me.

  So I tucked myself away in the VD clinic and made my own preparations. I’d found a hospital blanket and used my magic to glamour it. I pulled it over my head like a cloak, then stared at my reflection in the only shiny surface I could find—the glass window at the check-in counter.

  This time, I was going to the Order with valuable information, and I could only pray I wouldn’t be leaving empty-handed. I had the name of another angel, and I’d identified Kratos’s weakness.

  And if the Order of the Watchers
couldn’t tell me anything about the dragons, I had another plan in my arsenal. One that involved using my skill set.

  I stared at my features—my green eyes, my red hair, my heart-shaped lips, the cheekbones that stuck out more than they should. I summoned my glamour, feeling it prickle over my skin. I gaped at myself as my eyes transformed to glassy black orbs, my skin paling to the color of bone. After a few more seconds, I looked exactly like one of the sentinels.

  Now I just needed to slip out of the hospital unnoticed. Shouldn’t be too hard, since I was the only one here. Katie had gone south to the river for water, and Lucy and Alex were out on a food-gathering mission.

  I snatched a candle from the ground, folding it into my cloak.

  Wrapped in my blanket, I crossed slowly to the clinic door, pushing it open to survey the scene before plunging into London’s streets. For just a moment, a wave of dizziness washed over me—a side effect of the powerful glamour magic.

  A hard rain fell over the city, washing the land in a dull gray. I shivered, pulling the cloak tighter, then closed my eyes. As soon as I was outside the door, I had to behave like a phantom. No shivering, no wincing, no frowning. Just a vacant, glassy-eyed stare.

  Sucking in a breath, I pushed through the door. I walked carefully, trying to give the illusion of gliding. A bit of additional glamour helped to smooth out my stride, so I appeared to be floating like the other sentinels.

  Hunger rumbled between my ribs, but I ignored it, staring straight ahead as I glided onto New Road. The cold rain slid down my pale skin, dampening my cloak.

  Just like a burlesque act, this was a choreographed routine. I’d watched the sentinels long enough to know how fast they moved, how smoothly, how they swiveled their necks.

  As I drifted onto Commercial Street, I glimpsed another sentinel on the far side of the road, and my stomach clenched. Would he sense that I was an imposter? Could they smell each other?

  I peered at the other sentinel from the corner of my eye, and his head rotated toward mine—the movements owl-like. I imitated the swivel, turning my head to stare at him in the same way. After a few moments, his head turned straight ahead, and I followed suit.

  Soundlessly, we passed each other on opposite sides of the street. Rain drenched my cloak as I skimmed by an old, derelict music hall. I was going to need some of this rain to let up if my plan was going to work.

  No one else was walking nearby, but when I looked up at the sky, I glimpsed a sentinel floating above me, watchful eyes burning. I couldn’t let down my guard here, not even for a second.

  The quiet streets unnerved me. I depended on the constant chatter and stories in the rookery to keep my mind off everything I wanted to forget. I needed the fear of the Hunt, or my vampire books. I needed bright lights and dancing candle flames. I needed, above all, to forget the things I’d seen. My mind craved distractions.

  Here, with only the sound of the rain to occupy my thoughts, it was hard not to think about Marcus.

  He’d been my first real love, my first relationship where we’d communicated like grownups. With Marcus, I’d never had to guess what he was feeling. I’d known when he was annoyed, and exactly when he’d fallen in love with me, that he’d wanted to marry me. That had been true love.

  Marcus was a rarity—a vampire who could walk in the light. But I didn’t want to think about him, his beautiful face, or the way he’d pursed his lips when he thought. I didn’t want to think about our summer vacation in Georgia, swimming with him under the moonlight, the phosphorescent waves dazzling against his pale, smooth skin.

  That way madness lies.

  A lump had risen in my throat, and I swallowed hard. That’s what the Great Nightmare had taken from me: Marcus and Hazel, and all the memories of them that would drag me under the surface.

  Block them out, Ruby. Bury the thoughts.

  If I was going to survive in this world, I couldn’t let my emotions overwhelm me.

  And if I was going to convince the Order to help me this time, I needed to keep my wits about me.

  The stormy skies darkened as I walked, and goosebumps rose on my skin. It wouldn’t be long until Kratos and his hounds tore apart the city, but I needed the cover of nightfall for my task tonight.

  I crossed Tower Hill Garden, glancing at the scaffold. Here, long ago, kings and queens had once executed heretics and traitors. After the Great Nightmare began, the sentinels brought back the scaffold, for old times’ sake. We never knew who hung the victims, just that bodies appeared hanging from ropes in the dead of night. Mercifully, none swung there today as I glided past the gallows.

  As I approached the Tower, the rain began to let up, and I loosed a sigh of relief. If I was going to contact the Order of the Watchers, I’d need to be able to light a candle. I wouldn’t have much time to linger in front of the gatehouse trying to strike a match.

  As I approached the Tower’s stone gates, I swiveled my neck from side to side, checking the landscape for the presence of sentinels. One drifted over the grasses of the old moat, and another glided slowly in the cloudy skies.

  I peered at the Tower again. Really, tower was a funny name for the constellation of buildings before me. According to one of the history books in my little STD clinic, it was actually made up of at least twenty towers, some of them connected. I’d read about the Bell Tower, the White Tower, the Salt Tower, and the disturbingly named Bloody Tower, where someone had murdered two young princes…

  Now I approached the first of the towers—the Middle Tower—basically a gatehouse without the gate. I strode right through the arched entryway.

  I understood why they didn’t bother with the portcullis here. If the hounds wanted to get to the next gate, they’d just go around it, using the moat. Only the tower directly in front of me served a purpose in the world of the Great Nightmare—this one formed a part of the imposing medieval walls.

  The hounds were terrifying, but they weren’t capable of leaping ninety feet in the air. Neither was I, sadly, so I just had to hope I could get in there before the hounds arrived for the night.

  A heavy wooden door and an iron gate barred the arched entrance to the Byward Tower. High above the door, narrow windows were inset into the stone walls. In the gloom, I couldn’t see anything in them. I had to hope someone was in there, watching—a fae, perhaps a human.

  Anything but an angel.

  My eyes flicked to the skies. The sentinel had swooped over the Tower until I was no longer within its line of vision. I glanced to my right, where the other sentinel was approaching. When the creature reached the wall, he pivoted, turning in the other direction.

  Now, without any sentinels watching me, my chance had arrived.

  With shaking hands, I reached into my cloak, pulling out a candle and a lighter. I flicked the lighter, igniting the wick.

  A gust of wind blew it out again.

  “Shit!” I whispered. I lit the candle a second time, my pulse racing.

  Distantly, I heard hounds baying, and hairs rose on the back of my neck.

  I held the candle up, hoping anyone watching the gatehouse could see what I was doing. I needed to cover it three times with my hands and—

  The damned thing blew out again in a damp gust of wind.

  “Balls!” I hissed, maybe a little too loudly.

  Flick. My heart raced, and I lit the wick again, this time managing to shield it with part of my arm. The shaking in my hands surely wasn’t helping the situation, but this time, the wick stayed lit. I glanced up at the tower windows, then blocked the flame with my hand.

  One… Two… Three.

  One of the old signals of the Order of the Watchers. Last time I’d come, it had gotten me as far as an audience with one of the Watchers.

  I blew out the candle. As the smoke curled into the air, I shoved the candle and lighter back into my cloak. Ordinary sentinel here. Nothing to see here, folks.

  When my gaze flicked to the right, I saw the moat sentinel turning, heading back to
ward me. Had he seen my ungraceful movements, the frantic lighting of the candle? Had he noticed that I’d been lingering here too long? Sentinels always kept moving, and I’d just been standing here.

  Maybe I needed to drift—just until someone opened the gods-damned gate. Hadn’t the Watcher been faster last time? I needed that gate to open. My chances of getting home alive at dusk weren’t wonderful.

  But instead of the creaking of the gate, silence greeted me.

  I slowly pivoted like a sentinel, gliding over the cobblestones. The sound of barking hounds drew closer, and my heart began to slam against my ribs. Maybe I could fool the sentinels, who were all eyes, but the hounds would sniff me out in a second.

  Slowly, I glided back over the cobbles toward the first tower. I did my best to act like a normal levitating, soulless being. I drifted slowly through the first arched door, occasionally swiveling my head like an owl. Desperately, I listened for the sound of a door creaking open behind me.

  Please open the door.

  As I got to the edge of the cobbled path, a tendril of pure fear coiled through me. There, across a stony expanse, Kratos rode atop his bone-white horse, surrounded by his mob of ivory hounds. They were going to tear me to pieces if I didn’t get inside the Tower.

  I pivoted, heading back to the gate, moving a little faster than a sentinel should, no longer able to keep control of my movements. A cold sweat drenched my body. Behind me, the sound of the hounds moved closer, their barking ripping through the silence. From the corner of my vision, I caught a glimpse of the sentinel moving closer, eyes locked on me now.

  My cover was blown, and the hounds had scented me.

  Chapter 9

  I sped up, practically running for the wooden door, frantic now.

  At the last moment, just as I reached the iron gate, it began to heave open with an ear-piercing creak.

  Behind the gate, the wooden door swung open. My heart thrumming, I ducked, rolling under the iron gate as it rose.