Spirit of the Fae

by Linsey Hall

  “Be with you in a moment,” she said, never once raising her head.

  Brilliant green hair spilled down her back—a switch from the scarlet she’d worn the last time I was there. It matched her emerald leather jumpsuit that was as tight as a second skin. Silver stilettos completed the look.

  I’d always liked Melusine’s style.

  “I’m afraid I don’t have a ton of time, Melusine,” I said.

  “Mordaca!” Shock sounded in Melusine’s voice as she raised her head. “You never come through the front door.” Her eyes met mine and they widened. “You also never look like that.” She hurried to us, her green eyes wide. “What happened to you?”

  “I’m going to assume you don’t mean my attire?” She didn’t normally see me in fight wear, but it wasn’t that crazy.

  “No.” She shook her head, stopping in front of us and looking us up and down. “You look…strange.”

  “We’re not technically totally alive yet,” I said. “We’ve got our bodies, but the afterworld still has a hold on us. We need to find the Dark Necromancer to fix that.”

  “You sure do. Because you look like you’re about to fade away.” She walked in a circle around us. “How long do you have?”

  “Only an hour and a half or so.” I pointed to Tarron. “This is Tarron. Tarron, this is Melusine.”

  They shook hands, and Melusine shivered. “You’re cold as ice.”

  Shit, this was bad. The clock ticked, every second lowering the blade over our heads.

  “Come on back,” Melusine said. “Let me make some calls. The Dark Necromancer moves her business frequently, and I’ve no idea where she is now.”

  “Thank you.” I followed her through her shop. She led the way into the back room, which was where I normally entered. It was almost as high-ceilinged as the other space, with a dome at the top. Glittering lights hovered near the arches there.

  An enormous mirror stood against one wall, and I grinned. I couldn’t have planned this better if I’d tried. “I’m going to pop home for a moment while you make your calls, all right?”

  Tarron gave me a quizzical look. “Pop home?”

  “Go ahead.” She grinned at me. “I’ll only be a few minutes.”

  “Thanks.” I walked toward the mirror, glancing back over my shoulder at Tarron. “You coming?”

  “Where?”

  “My house, of course. I have a few things I need to pick up.”

  “All right.” He looked at the mirror. “We’re using that?”

  “We are indeed.” Years ago, Aeri and I had hooked this mirror up to Melusine’s shop. We used it to transport back and forth easily and without expending any magic.

  I walked straight at the glass, stepping through as if it were a raised doorway. The ether sucked me in, and a moment later, I stepped out in a small back room in my house. The mirror was the only thing in the room, as Melusine had requested. She didn’t want any of our clients finding it and stepping into her place.

  Couldn’t blame her. The feeling was mutual.

  I stepped out of the way and Tarron followed.

  “That’s convenient,” he said. “You must be close with her.”

  “Yeah. Been friends a while. We also consult on each other’s businesses occasionally, so it’s extra handy.”

  “Why are we here?”

  “We need to load up on weapons. I don’t know what we’re going back to in the Court of Death, but I don’t trust the king and queen.”

  “I like how you think.”

  I headed toward my workshop, going first to the fireplace. It had communications ability just like the one back at the throne room. Little boxes of magical powders were lined up on the hearth, and I reached for two of them. One pinch of green powder created a blaze, and a pinch of orange connected me to Claire.

  “Any luck?” I asked.

  Her hair was still a mess, and the blood was still streaked across her face—she’d clearly gotten right to work.

  She frowned. “We’re here in Puck’s Glen, looking for the entrance.”

  Cass’s face appeared next to her. Her lips were thinned with worry. “This is intense, Mordaca. The magic that fills this forest is off the charts. And we think it’s coming from your mother.”

  I nodded, remembering what I’d seen back at the battle site. Claire had hit her with some kind of crazy glowing light magic that had definitely knocked her out. Had it also made her stronger?

  Pain makes us stronger.

  It was the lesson that I’d learned only recently. My crucible of pain was transforming me. Perhaps it had transformed my mother as well.

  That would be bad fucking news.

  Something flickered in Claire’s gaze, but I couldn’t read it. Now wasn't the time to discuss what I’d seen anyway. It might be a secret that wasn’t mine to share, and I wasn’t rolling in time.

  “Are you back?” Cass frowned. “It looks like you’re in your workshop.”

  “Only partially back. We need to complete the spell. I’m here to load up.”

  Cass nodded. “Good luck.”

  “You too. And thank you. From the bottom of my heart.”

  Both women shrugged, like it was no big deal.

  My heart warmed, and I stepped away from the fire. As quickly as I could, I gathered up a bag full of various potions. Most of them were meant for battle, but a few were for healing. I’d go straight from the Court of Death to a rescue mission in the Unseelie Realm, so I needed to be prepared.

  “Where do you keep your weapons?” Tarron asked.

  “Room behind that door.” I pointed.

  He nodded. “I’m going to stock up on daggers, if you don’t mind.”

  “Help yourself. But most of it is steel.”

  He nodded. “It’ll be fine.”

  I shoved the bag that I’d filled into the ether, hoping that it would work in the Court of Death. It had worked when we’d first arrived—Tarron and I had pulled our swords free. The swords themselves had been as ghostly as we’d been, so they hadn’t done any damage to Ankou’s minions. But the ether storage had worked.

  I joined Tarron in the weapons room, going straight for a collection of steel daggers. He’d collected a couple with leather wrapped around the hilts, no doubt to protect his Fae skin from the metal.

  I shivered uncomfortably as I picked up a few daggers. The metal hurt a bit now that I’d transitioned to Fae, but it was nothing I couldn’t handle since I wasn’t full Fae.

  After we’d stocked up on weapons, I thought longingly of my kitchen and the bacon sandwich I could whip up in ten minutes.

  But there was no time for that.

  “Let’s get out of here.” I headed out of the room, grabbing a handful of butterscotch candies from the bowl on the workshop counter and shoving them into my pocket.

  We returned to the mirror room and were back at Melusine’s five minutes after we’d left. She was consulting someone in her fireplace, and she finished up the chat right after we arrived.

  She turned to us. “I’ve got your info.”

  “Yeah?” Relief flowed through me. “Where is she?”

  “Other side of The Vaults. But you’re going to need a key to get in.”

  “What kind?”

  “A kind I can help you with. Come on.” She led the way back to her shop and climbed onto one of the tall ladders that reached toward the ceiling along one wall. After searching through the shelves for a moment, she found something and returned to the ground.

  “Here.” She approached and handed me a heavy gold coin with a skull embossed on it. “The Dark Necromancer is in a part of The Vaults that even I don’t go to. You, either, as far as I know. The really bad magic goes down there. Darker than dark. You’re going to have to try to blend in. When you get to her club, give this to the doorman.”

  The coin’s magic buzzed faintly against my hand. “Is there supposed to be magic in it.”

  “Yes.” She frowned. “But it’s weak from age. That
entrance coin was sold to the shop in my grandmother’s time—I certainly haven’t had reason to use it. But perhaps you could give it a bit of your amplification magic to make it stronger. Then the doormen are sure to accept it.”

  I nodded and fed a bit of my amplification magic into the charm, making the magic buzz stronger. When it was vibrating healthily against my palm, I stopped.

  “What kind of club is it?” Tarron asked.

  “Zombie strip club.”

  My jaw nearly dropped, and I was hard to surprise. “Zombie strip club?”

  “Yep.”

  “Willing zombies?” I asked, thinking of little church ladies who’d be horrified to know what their bodies got up to after they died.

  “Beats me. They’re zombies. They don’t have much brain function.”

  “All right.” My mind was spinning with the questionable ethics of that. Who the hell went to a zombie strip club? I handed the coin to Tarron. “Hold on to that, if you don’t mind.”

  He nodded.

  “When you get there, don’t make eye contact with anyone. That’s a cardinal rule,” Melusine said.

  “I can see why it might be.” Tarron sounded as disturbed as I felt.

  I had to agree with him. If your thing was zombie strippers, you probably didn’t want to be making a lot of eye contact that would allow you to recognize people. Except, they were also into zombie strippers, so…

  Ugh, I wasn’t going to think about it too much, that was for sure.

  “Thank you, Melusine,” I said.

  “Any time.” She smiled. “And good luck coming back to life.”

  “Thanks. I really don’t want to end up a zombie stripper.”

  She laughed.

  Tarron and I departed, and I looked at him. “Have you ever been to this part of The Vaults before?”

  He shook his head. “No. Only been to this part once. It’s not my scene.”

  I supposed I was grateful for that. The last thing any girl wanted was to fall for a guy and then find out that he was into zombie strippers.

  Since I knew where the entrance was located, I took the lead, directing us through the dark streets and alleys toward the back of The Vaults. The streets grew quieter and the shops less friendly-looking. Considering that regular shops didn’t look remotely friendly, that was saying something.

  The stench of dark magic grew stronger the farther we walked.

  “Does it smell like dead bodies?” Tarron asked.

  “Yeah. Appropriate, I guess.” I covered my mouth as I breathed, wishing I could stop breathing entirely.

  The club at the very back of the street thumped with music. It echoed off the stone buildings, the road, and stone sky, making my eardrums vibrate.

  “Just a second.” I ducked into an alley, and then waved a hand over myself, creating a glamour that would make it look like I was wearing my usual plunging dress and high hair. I glanced at Tarron. “What do you think? Do I look like myself?”

  He nodded. “You look great.”

  “Good. I only ever come to The Vaults as Mordaca. I’ve got a reputation—one that could help. But I need to actually look like myself to use it.”

  He nodded. “Good thinking.”

  I agreed. It helped to have an iffy reputation that straddled the line, sometimes. Especially one that scared people.

  I strode back out onto the street, my stilettos peeking out from my dress as I walked. They were actually fighting boots, but anyone who looked at me wouldn’t know it.

  We approached the door to the club like we went there all the time, like zombie strippers were no big deal. In reality, I was sizing up the bouncers, looking for their weak points in case this all went to shit.

  11

  I strolled toward the two bouncers, eying them up and down. Each was at least seven feet tall, with sawed-off horns and small emerald eyes. Their dark gray skin looked like it was as thick as an elephant’s, and they each gripped a long sword.

  “Mordaca.” The one on the left eyed me with trepidation.

  I didn’t come around these parts much—and never to the very back of The Vaults—but no one else dressed like me. I’d never met this demon, but it didn’t seem to matter. My time as a Blood Sorceress and demon slayer had given me a reputation.

  I stopped in front of the demon and raised a brow, then gave the door a pointed look. “Well?”

  “Do you…ah…do you have the coin?”

  I gestured to Tarron, and he handed the coin over.

  The demon inspected it, and I hoped I’d been able to amplify the magic inside enough to satisfy him. Finally, he grunted and turned to the door. He pressed his palm flat against a black jewel that was set into the wood, and the door swung open.

  “The manager will seat you,” he rumbled.

  I nodded and strode into the nightclub. Music pounded through the speakers, and magic flowed in the air.

  The room that we’d entered was dimly lit and contained only a desk staffed by a slender, pale-haired man of unknown species. The demon might have been nervous around me, but this whole place gave me the willies. There was something in the air—the Dark Necromancer’s death magic, perhaps—that made my skin prickle with unease.

  Quickly, I shared a glance with Tarron.

  He nodded and murmured, “I feel it.”

  I turned back to the man, who straightened and frowned at me, bowing slightly. “Mordaca? This is an unexpected surprise. You never come here.”

  “Indeed not.” I gave him an icy smile. “King Tarron and I are here to see the Dark Necromancer.”

  His skin paled, but he nodded quickly. “Of course, of course. Let me get you a seat while I arrange a meeting.”

  “Thank you. But be quick. We do not have long.”

  He gulped and nodded, then led us through the door and into a nightclub where the air pulsed with music and strobe lights. On one end, there was a stage where half-naked zombies danced. It was more like a cabaret than a pole dancing situation, but given that the performers were rotting, it lacked the panache of normal cabaret.

  The rest of the club was filled with tables. The ones in the middle were situated on a lower level while the ones at the edges were raised up on high platforms. Supernatural species of all varieties crowded around them, their gazes riveted to the stage.

  “This way.” The manager led us toward a corner booth that sat on a pedestal about halfway up the wall toward the ceiling. “Only the best for you.”

  “Thank you.” I had a feeling our luck wouldn’t last once we met the Dark Necromancer, but I’d take what I could get.

  We climbed the spiral stairs to the booth and sat. He disappeared through the crowd, and I leaned close to Tarron. “What do you think?”

  “I think I don’t want to end up like them.” He nodded to a dancer on the right whose arm had just fallen off.

  I winced. “No kidding. How long have we got?”

  “Less than forty minutes.”

  Shit.

  That was no time at all.

  I drew in a deep breath and carefully called upon my Seeker sense. I needed to try to find this Aranthian Crystal. There was no telling if the Dark Necromancer would help us or not.

  Tarron looked down at me. “You’re looking for the crystal?”

  “Yeah. You can feel my magic?”

  He nodded. “Feels good.”

  It was stronger now, I realized. Losing it and having to face my fears to get it back had definitely made it grow even more powerful.

  Thank fates, because I needed it.

  My seeker sense was just beginning to pull on my middle when the manager appeared at the top of the spiral staircase.

  His brow was dampened with sweat, and he bowed low. “The Dark Necromancer will see you now.”

  They were words I’d never wanted to hear. But sometimes life threw you a curveball.

  “Thank you.” I followed him down the stairs, Tarron close at my heels.

  The manager led us through the cr
ush of tables toward the other wall, where a small black door was tucked behind a massive guard. The figure was even bigger than the bouncers at the entrance of the club, and his magic felt like being hit with a dump truck.

  His beady black eyes dropped to the manager, and he stepped aside briefly. I inspected him for weak points as I walked by, but spotted none.

  Shit. I hoped we didn’t have to make a run for it when this was all over. I did not want to tangle with him.

  Tarron gripped my hand as we stepped into the darkened hallway at the other side. I squeezed his, grateful for the fact that we finally had bodies and could actually touch each other.

  Gas lamps flickered on the rich golden wallpaper as we walked down the hall.

  “The Dark Necromancer rarely sees guests,” the manager said. “But she is making an exception for you.”

  He pushed open a door at the other end of the hall, and we followed him into a sumptuous room that was filled with plush furniture and golden light fixtures. A table in the back was covered in a horrifying array of body parts, and I barely resisted flinching.

  I dealt with some creepy stuff in my Blood Sorcery business, but rarely anything that looked like this.

  Blood dripped off the table and splattered onto the gleaming wooden floor.

  The figure who stood behind the table looked less than freshly dead. Her long hair was a deep navy blue that I definitely admired, but the rest of her looked like she had seen better days. Cloudy eyes were set deeply into a gray face that appeared to be several weeks past death. At least.

  My seeker sense tugged insistently, pulling me toward the blazing hearth on the far side of the room. Three red crystals sat there.

  They had to be Aranthian Crystals.

  A pained scream sounded in the distance, followed by the roar of a crowd. I frowned and looked toward the noise, which came from the far-left wall. A shiver raced down my spine. What else was down there?

  The Dark Necromancer turned to us, speaking in a creaky voice that chilled my bones. “Mordaca, the Blood Sorceress. I have heard of you, though you have never deigned to pay me a visit before.”