Taken

by Jennifer Blackstream

  Something moved in the woods to the left of the SUV, hidden amongst the thick landscaping that edged the expensive lakefront properties. It was a flicker of movement, a hint of shadow moving faster than it should have, but it struck a familiar chord. Frost shot down my spine, and I clutched the door handle, as if holding the door closed would save me. Against my will, I stared harder past Andy, into the darkness beyond.

  A dark beast wove between the trees and shrubs, eyes like glowing, fractured emeralds locked on mine. The streetlights illuminated sharp teeth as it opened its mouth.

  My heart leapt into my throat, and I took a breath to warn Andy, but then it vanished. Melted into the darkness.

  “What’s wrong?” Andy asked.

  I realized I’d twisted around, gripping the side of my seat with one hand and the dashboard with the other. With supreme effort, I forced myself to relax.

  “Nothing. It’s… It’s nothing. Nerves, that’s all.”

  “What did you see?”

  The bushes didn’t move, no matter how long I stared at them. We weren’t going more than twenty miles an hour. Any fey creature could keep up with that pace. We couldn’t have lost the beast. “Nothing. My imagination is playing tricks on me.”

  Peasblossom poked me on the neck, a sharp rebuke for lying. I ignored her. Either it was another dream shard from Arianne, and it wouldn’t attack while Andy was around anyway, or it was the pet of one of the fey at the club. We were less than two blocks from their driveway. The area was probably crawling with beasts stretching their legs while their masters played art critic.

  “Tell me what you saw.”

  Andy’s command snapped me out of my reverie. His tone was no longer a prod, but a sharp demand. The fear poisoning my insides melted as a flicker of anger rose in response. “I told you, it was nothing. Someone’s pet startled me, that’s all.”

  “You didn’t react like it was someone’s pet,” Andy said tersely. “If you notice a threat, you need to tell me. I need to be prepared.”

  It was on the tip of my tongue to argue, but I stopped. He was right. Whatever I wanted to believe it was, the fact of the matter was that Andy needed to understand the world he’d entered. I had to teach him, and tonight provided the opportunity to do that.

  “You know how people are easily offended?”

  Andy looked at me, then back at the road. “Yes.”

  “Well, the Otherworld is the same way. They are easy to offend, and they have very, very long memories. They also have a larger spectrum of methods for…expressing their displeasure.”

  “I’m not following.”

  I sighed. “I upset a sorceress. It was an accident, and I apologized, but she’s still…annoyed.”

  Andy stared out the window, scrutinizing his surroundings. “And you think she’s here?”

  “Not her. Her magic.” I watched the border of trees lining the rich lakefront properties, trying to glimpse whatever I’d seen before. “She specializes in dream magic. Last week, she sent a dream shard after me.”

  “A dream shard?”

  “She used magic to spy on my dreams. When I had a nightmare, she tore off a chunk, animated it, and sent it after me.” I sat up, staring harder out the window, searching the shadows for that shape. “I don’t remember too much from the original nightmare, but I remember the beast. More cat than anything else, but not like any cat I’ve ever seen. Huge, sharp teeth, sharper claws. It can change into other things, too.” My heart beat faster, my palm sweating where I gripped the door. “She’s left me alone since I defeated the last one, but just now I thought… I thought I saw another one.”

  Andy rolled his neck, filling the air with the sound of popping tendons. “How do we fight this thing?”

  “It shouldn’t attack as long as you’re around. Ar—the sorceress is careful to keep a low profile with humans, and especially law enforcement. She wouldn’t do anything when there’s a human witness—not to mention an FBI agent.”

  Realization pulled Andy’s eyebrows up to his hairline. “The hotel owner. Suite Dreams. She’s the sorceress.”

  My stomach bottomed out. “Andy, it would be disastrous—for both of us—if she discovered you know what she is. If she found out I told you what she was.”

  “Duly noted.”

  Anger tightened my hands into fists. He didn’t sound afraid. He should sound afraid.

  “How did you make her so angry?” he asked.

  I swallowed the urge to yell at him, to force him to understand this was not a moment for calm. Panicking wouldn’t do any good. He might not seem scared, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t be careful. “She’s not happy I brought my first case to her hotel. She blames me for the collateral damage.” I picked at a piece of lint on my shirt. “I may have also, possibly, inadvertently, brought her to a vampire’s attention.”

  Andy jerked his attention to me before quickly refocused on the road. “Did you say vampire?”

  “Yes.”

  He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “We’ll talk about that later.”

  “I hope so,” I joked weakly. I shoved thoughts of our impending doom to the lower reaches of my mind and reached under my hair to retrieve Peasblossom. The pixie hopped into my palm and clutched my finger tight enough that I felt her frantic heartbeat against the pad of my finger.

  “I want you to snoop around. Find the kids if you can, but don’t put yourself in danger. If you find any information that could help us, find me.” I smiled at her, banishing any trace of fear from my face. “I need you to suppress your noble urge to save everybody. If there’s trouble, you get out and get help. Call Liam. He’ll know what to do.”

  “I’m not leaving you,” Peasblossom snapped. She stood ramrod straight, planting her hands on her hips. “Now hit me with the invisibility and let me do my job.”

  I resisted the urge to pat her on the head, instead concentrating on my magic and letting it pool in my palm. “Invisibilia.”

  Peasblossom disappeared from sight, though her weight still rested reassuringly in my grasp. I rolled my window down.

  “Couldn’t you make us invisible too?” Andy asked.

  “I could, but that kind of effort would be draining, and I’m going to need all the strength I can get in case this goes bad. And chances are, I’d be too weak to cast it again on the kids when we find them, so we’d be in the same boat we are now. Not to mention, we’re much bigger than Peasblossom, so there’s a better chance that something with keen senses will smell us. And the spell doesn’t last long enough for us to get in, find all the kids, and get out, not when we have to be so careful not to bump into anyone or anything. Peasblossom is hard to see even if she’s not invisible. And she’s much less likely to bump into someone or something.”

  I was rambling again, but Andy didn’t comment. Instead, he let out a breath. “Makes sense.” He turned into the long driveway. “Ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be.”

  We stopped at the small gatehouse in front of the large metal gates that surrounded the house. A woman stepped out, smoothing a few errant strands of black hair before approaching the car. She wore a long black dress with a plunging neckline, and a black feathered boa wrapped around her shoulders. I would not have pegged her for a guard.

  “Hello.” She stared at Andy, then at me. “Can I help you?”

  “Yes, my name is Mother Renard, and this is Agent Bradford of the FBI. We need to speak with Oisean.”

  The woman studied Andy with new interest, slender, dark brows rising. “FBI?”

  “Yes,” Andy said. “We’re here about a stolen painting.”

  Black eyes that were more avian than human bounced between us. “You think Oisean stole a painting?”

  She sounded like she didn’t believe us. I dug the receipts I’d gotten from Sarah out of my pocket and held them out to her. “A year ago, a Mr. Carl Teagues purchased a painting from a young artist at Constellation House, a boy named Matthew. Matthew was part of an
art show, and Mr. Teagues agreed to allow the painting he’d bought to remain on display for the duration of the show. Unfortunately, the painting, and Matthew, went missing the night before the show. I know Matthew came here along with two other artists. I need to know if he brought that painting with him.”

  The woman opened her mouth, then shut it. “I’m sorry, am I to understand that you and an agent from the FBI are here about a painting that went missing from a homeless shelter a year ago?”

  “Is it here?” I asked.

  The sidhe couldn’t lie. Not directly. I’d asked her a question. If she didn’t say no—a simple and direct no—I would take any other answer as confirmation of the theft.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m not a member of the regular staff. In point of fact, I don’t belong to this house at all. I was attending this party as a guest. The hostess and I had…a disagreement.” She motioned toward the gatehouse.

  “So now you’re working for her instead of attending the party?” Andy asked.

  She shrugged. “If I humble myself, she will forgive me. It is a small price to pay.” She smiled. “I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Morgan.”

  “Shade,” I replied. I leaned over the gearshift and gestured to the house with my chin. “Are the children here? The children from Constellation House and the Memorial Center?”

  “There are many people here,” she said smoothly. “The mistress has invited people from several different factions. There are representatives from the red caps, the trolls—even the centaurs. If you insist, I will summon the mistress out here. Oisean is hers, and you will have to speak with her if you wish to question him about a crime.” Morgan’s eyes darkened, swallowing the light reflected by the house floodlights. “I must tell you, I do not think she will appreciate the interruption.”

  My heart sank deeper and deeper with every word out of her mouth. The level of danger had risen astronomically with every kingdom she’d named. I needed Oisean to come out here to speak with us. The chance of negotiating with one sidhe was much greater than going inside that house, amongst all those creatures, and wresting the children out.

  “I really should speak with her in private,” I said.

  “Even if she agrees to come out to speak with you, she will not come alone,” Morgan warned me. “She will bring her lawyer with her. In fact, it is likely that she will send her lawyer out himself, to assure she need not leave her guests.”

  Andy tensed. “It’s not necessary to involve a lawyer.”

  “Yes, they do complicate things, don’t they?” Morgan agreed. “Everything takes so much longer. I would wager you’d be out here all night.”

  Which means the children will be sold before we ever step foot over the threshold, I noted grimly.

  “If she insists on a lawyer, perhaps I should arrest Oisean and take him downtown with me?” Andy suggested.

  My heart nearly stopped as his threat hung in the air. This was not the time to escalate things, and threatening the sidhe always escalated things. My lungs held my breath prisoner as Morgan’s lips parted in shock. Before I could think of anything to say to smooth over Andy’s threat, Morgan clasped her hands in front of her.

  “You are not here about a painting.” She leaned closer, dropping her voice to a whisper. “You’re here for the children.”

  There was no anger in her tone or expression. In fact, she sounded…excited.

  “I want to talk to the children that were taken from Constellation House last year, yes. And those taken from the Memorial Center today,” I said, hope warring with suspicion for control of my tone. “Are they all right?”

  Morgan hesitated, glancing at the main house. “The auction hasn’t started yet. The artists are still mingling with the guests. But it will start soon, and the bidding can be…boisterous. The children arrived much earlier than expected, and it has stirred the guests’ appetite for the coming festivities.”

  I straightened in my seat. We’d made Oisean move faster than he’d intended. That could work in our favor. Maybe they weren’t as prepared.

  “I don’t agree with what’s going on,” Morgan continued, her tone low. “Those poor children have no idea what the crowd will be like when the bidding starts. I tried to speak my mind to the mistress, but I’m afraid I succeeded only in getting further into her bad side.”

  She looked from the house to me, as if afraid she’d be overheard. Her lips parted to speak, but she stopped. My heart pounded as she retreated a step.

  “Perhaps I should let Marilyn know you’re here,” she said, suddenly unsure of herself.

  “Please,” I said. “We want to make sure the children are safe. If we could talk to Oisean…”

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I can’t—” She stopped and bit her lip. In the trees above us, a large shadow moved, and the air filled with the sound of calling crows and rustling feathers. A murder of the black birds took to the air, circling and screaming. Morgan stared up at them, and I could see her pulse throbbing beneath the pale skin of her throat.

  “Something’s got the birds in a state,” she murmured. “I wonder if the red caps aren’t having a little pre-festivities fun.”

  Red caps. My skin rippled as if it would crawl off my spine. Red caps were gruesome fey whose violent appetite for war and discord was apparent in the hats they wore. Hats dipped in the blood of their enemies—or their victims. They weren’t happy if no one was in danger of exsanguination…

  “Morgan, if you could help us in any way,” I said. “If you could ask Oisean out here to talk to us…”

  “Or get us inside,” Andy added.

  I held my tongue. I did not want to go inside. Not if there was another option.

  “I can’t let you inside without an invitation. You understand what would happen to me.” She took a deep breath. “But I have a friend who came alone. I could call her, ask her to bring you in as a plus one.” She looked from me to Andy. “It would only work for one of you.”

  Suspicion kept me from feeling too grateful. It wasn’t that the sidhe were a singularly cruel and unsympathetic race. Like any other people, they had their good and their bad. But her claim of concern for the wellbeing of human children was…unexpected. And her willingness to help two strangers even more so.

  Morgan seemed to read my thoughts. “I understand your suspicion. And if you don’t believe me, I will not take offense. But if you are here to help those children, your window of opportunity is closing. And if you sneak in there with no invitation, you are not a guest—you are a trespasser.”

  Unease settled in my stomach like a lead weight.

  Morgan held my gaze. “Yes, you understand.”

  “What?” Andy asked. His hand lingered on the gearshift, and the tension rolling off him gave me a sudden mental image of the FBI agent slamming on the gas and plowing through the gate to save the children. Andy wasn’t that impulsive, or reckless… Still.

  I squeezed his arm, drawing his attention so he met my eyes. “The fey hold the contract between guest and host sacrosanct. It’s not merely good manners; it’s a social contract. A guest in a fey’s home is afforded certain…protections. It in no way means a guarantee of safety, but it is significant. And important. Without that protection, and with the added label of trespasser…”

  “The hostess would be within her rights to kill you,” Morgan said.

  Andy’s face darkened. “That’s murder.”

  He sounded a lot calmer than the expression on his face would have suggested. I rubbed the bridge of my nose. “This is where the part about different cultures comes into play. By their law, trespassing gives the lady of the territory certain rights.”

  “Like murder.”

  “Like defending her home,” Morgan said firmly. She moved closer to the vehicle, her skirts brushing against the SUV. The scent of feathers and flowery perfume ghosted into the car. “Remember, human, the fey are dangerous, even when they’re friendly. Consider how you would feel if everyone who ca
me to your home carried a weapon. Not a bat or a gun, but something more serious. A bomb. You would want the right to defend yourself in equal measure, would you not?”

  “If we go inside, we need to do it with as much protection as possible,” I said. “That means we need an invitation.”

  Morgan nodded. “If you’ll wait here a moment, I’ll call my friend?”

  Despite what I’d said, I hesitated. Things were moving too fast. I wasn’t anywhere near certain Morgan was the ally she pretended to be. She could be bored and looking for fun. The friend she meant to call could take me inside to be entertained by watching something horrible happen to me. I needed to think. I needed more information.

  “I appreciate your offer,” I said. “If you’ll give me a moment to discuss it with my friend?”

  I thought a hint of frustration tightened her features, but it disappeared before I could be sure. “Of course. Though I will caution you, preliminary bids are already being taken.”

  “I’m not worried about getting in there fast enough to buy art,” I said. “It’s only the children I’m worried about.”

  Genuine confusion furrowed Morgan’s brow. “The art auction will not happen until tomorrow. Tonight is…” She paused, realization dawning. “You don’t know.”

  My blood turned to ice at the mix of surprise and pity in her gaze. “I don’t know what?”

  She wrapped her arms around her body, the feathers of her boa rustling with the motion. “They aren’t auctioning off the paintings, Shade. They’re auctioning off the artists.”

  Chapter 12

  “Auction off…the kids?”

  I gripped the door handle, needing something to hold on to. Beside me, Andy stared up the long, winding driveway toward the main house as if he could see inside, somehow find the hostess and arrest her from here.

  The muscle in Andy’s jaw tightened until I feared it would snap. “They can’t do that. You can’t sell human beings.”