Agent of Enchantment (Dark Fae FBI Book 1)

by C. N. Crawford

  Roan gripped my hair, pulling my head back, his musky scent enveloping me. His other hand roamed under the blanket, stroking up my bare thigh, moving higher up my leg to where I needed him.

  I let the blanket fall from my body for just a moment, showing myself to him. I caught a glimpse of his horns—and that’s when reality hit me. What was I doing? I’d come here to investigate a crime, and I’d basically been kidnapped by this man. My body tensed, and I pulled the blanket back on. Mustering all the control I had, I pulled my face from his, and yanked the blanket back over my naked body.

  “Stop,” I said.

  With a growl, he pulled away from me. His body glowed with a rich, amber light, mixing with the milky daylight that washed over his skin. “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know what was happening,” I said. “I just had a dream, and then you started kissing me.”

  His jaw hardened. “The only reason I kissed you is because you’re a pixie. I’ll stay further away from you when we sleep. For both of our sakes.”

  My cheeks reddened. “What do you mean, because I’m a pixie?”

  He wore his blanket around the lower half of his body as he climbed the ladder to his bed. “Like I said. Fae feed off human emotions. And for pixies, it’s doubled.”

  I sat up, pulling my blanket around my shoulders. “And you’re drawn to… what, exactly?”

  He shook his head, sneering, shifting to the other side of the room. “I’m drawn to lust.”

  I bit my lip. “Well, you obviously used your fae lust powers to give me that dream about you.”

  He quirked an eyebrow. “That’s not how it works. But I do find it fascinating that you’re dreaming about me.”

  Scowling, I lay down and pulled the blanket tighter over myself. Goddamn fae. Perhaps I should just go out and sleep in the freezing mud instead.

  I closed my eyes, locking the memory of this encounter in my mental cage.

  Chapter 23

  “Wake up.” A deep voice disturbed my sleep, and I pulled the blanket tighter. Fortunately, my forest dream had not repeated itself.

  I rubbed my eyes, still trying to clear my mind from the fog of sleep.

  “Wake up,” the voice repeated. “We have work to do.”

  Slowly, I opened my eyes. Night had fallen, and only the glowing red embers of the fire lit the room. It was cold, much colder than before, and the thought of removing the blanket from my naked body filled me with dread.

  “Here.” He threw a bundle on my blanket. “Get dressed. We need to get going.”

  I glanced at him, already dressed in his clothes from the night before. Were they dry already? I glanced at what he had thrown over me—a black jacket, with a lining of brown fur at the collar, and a pair of black pants.

  “Where are those from?” I asked.

  “A few friends have been busy helping while you were sleeping. I asked for clothes that would fit a child.”

  “Thanks,” I said dryly. I dragged the black pants under the blanket, preparing for the arduous task of putting them on while hidden, but as I squirmed under the blanket, Roan left the cabin, letting the door shut behind him.

  With him out of the room, I threw back the blanket, and quickly pulled up the pants. Would’ve been nice to have a bra and underwear, but this would have to do for now. I pulled on the jacket, buttoning it. The fabric was soft to the touch. Velvet, maybe, and stuffed with a warm down. I snatched my gray bag from the floor, slinging it over my shoulder.

  After tidying up the blanket, I crossed to the window. A soft blanket of snow covered the ground, glowing with a pale blue in the moonlight. By the door, Roan had left a pair of fur-lined boots which looked about my size. Child-sized, apparently. I slipped into them, and they fit well enough. Moreover, they were incredibly warm.

  Roan pushed through the door, handing me a piece of dried meat. “You can eat on the way,” he said. “We don’t have much time.”

  I followed him into the cool forest air. He wore his green cloak again, with a leather satchel slung over his back and his sword by his side. Before we set off, I gazed back at the cottage—a tall round structure formed of hemlock and oak boughs.

  “Do you live out here by yourself?” I asked.

  He didn’t answer, and we walked on in silence.

  The moon loomed over us like the watchful, milky eye of the Callach. Around us, the forest seemed eerily silent, apart from my boots crunching over the snow.

  “Is it always winter in this forest?” Because it was July in London.

  “Seasons in Fae aren’t as predictable as in the human world,” said Roan. “They change swiftly from day to day, and from place to place.”

  “I see.” He began striding across the snow-covered ground, and I followed him hurriedly. I shoved my hands into my pockets. “So what’s our plan? What role do I play in this prison break of yours?”

  “The prison is heavily guarded.” Steam billowed from his mouth as he spoke. “Getting in or out is nearly impossible.”

  “That’s generally how prisons work.”

  He nodded. “Very astute. However, you have reflection magic.”

  “Wouldn’t they protect against magic like mine? I mean, I’m not the only one with mirror magic, right?”

  “There are wards. But they are tuned to fae magic.”

  Aha. “And not pixie magic like mine.”

  “Pixies are very rare, and the few that exist are slaves to the powerful faeries in the court. Their magic is mostly very weak, diluted by human blood.”

  “Why isn’t my magic weak?”

  He glanced at me. “Perhaps your fae parent was powerful.”

  I thought of my father, my stomach twisting. Powerfully psychotic, anyway. “Okay. So… you want me to enter through a mirror?”

  “Yes. I know the interior well. We have this all planned out. The warden has a large room, equipped with a mirror. You’ll enter through that reflection—”

  He knew the interior well. So he was a fae ex-con. “Hang on. Who is this we you’re talking about? Who brought us the clothing?”

  He stopped, turning to me. “The details don’t concern you. We have a deal. You help me get my friend out, and I take you back to your world.”

  “I prefer knowing what trouble I’m getting myself into.”

  “You’ve already agreed to break into a prison. Obviously this will land you in very serious trouble should you get caught, no matter who my friends are. But I don’t see you with a lot of options in this situation.”

  Fair point. “Okay, fine. So I enter through the warden’s mirror, then what?”

  “You’ll see a back door to the prison’s kitchen. It is locked and barred from inside. I have the key. You’ll remove the bar, and I’ll be able to walk inside.”

  “Isn’t the door guarded?”

  “That’s my problem.”

  “And then what? We go in, get your friend out, and run?”

  “Yes.”

  “Won’t they have guards inside the prison?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you have any plan how to handle them?”

  “I kill them, and leave no witnesses.”

  “Do we have an escape route?”

  “No.”

  “That’s your plan?”

  “We go in, get my friend, get out. You go back to your home. That is my plan.”

  He fell silent. An owl’s cry pierced the chilly forest, and to me, it seemed like a terrible omen.

  * * *

  Despite my warm clothes, after an hour, my teeth had begun chattering uncontrollably. Tall oaks and pines loomed high above us. Snowflakes whirled in the chilly wind, landing on my face, and the cold air bit at my skin. Clouds covered the moon, and we walked in almost total darkness.

  With the snow covering the ground, I wasn’t sure if we walked on a path, but the overgrowth of the bushes and shrubs suggested that we were making our own way through the woods. Every so often, Roan would turn around and tell me to sto
p my teeth from chattering, as if I had any control over the matter. Apparently the coat should have been warm enough, even without a shirt underneath it, and he seemed to think the chattering of my teeth was some sort of personal insult.

  At last, the forest began to thin, giving way to a wide, barren field. We paused at the forest’s edge. A dark shape loomed on the horizon in the distance.

  “There,” Roan said. “That’s the Hawkwood Prison. We’re close enough.”

  “It doesn’t look super large.”

  “Most of it is underground. Prisoners don’t need windows and air.” Something about his dark tone sent shivers through my bones. “Some are housed on the upper levels. But the worst offenders, the accused traitors and murderers, are trapped in the dungeons below ground.”

  He closed his eyes, breathing in, and his body glowed with an amber light. I stared as, before my eyes, he transformed his appearance—darkening his hair, lightening his skin. When he opened his eyelids, he gazed at me with silver eyes.

  He slid the satchel from his back, opening it. Carefully, he pulled out a large oval shape that glinted in the pale light. A mirror, about twenty inches in diameter. He leaned it against a tree, and nodded at me.

  “Be silent, and fast,” he said. “Don’t take long. Once you enter the mirror, I’ll run over to the prison. I can deal with any guards patrolling the perimeter, but it’s best that we get in as soon as possible.”

  I bit my lip. “I’m really missing my gun right about now.” I had no weapons in my bag—just some keys, my amazing pen weapon, a phone that wouldn’t work here, and, of course, the Tic Tacs.

  “Take a right out of the warden’s room when you arrive,” he continued. “Find your way to the kitchen. I’ll be waiting outside a small door.” He took a step closer, peering down at me with those strange, silvery eyes. “But whatever you do, don’t wake the warden. In fact, avoid him at all costs. He can charm you into doing whatever he wants.”

  Was he serious? “I think I’m capable of ignoring his charm.”

  Roan shook his head in frustration. “It’s not like human charm. He has fae charm, stronger than most. He can control your mind. It’s his form of magic. If he gets two words in, you’re as good as gone.”

  I cleared my throat. “Don’t wake the warden. Got it.”

  “One more thing,” he said. “I won’t be near you, and your aura will alert the fae around you. Stay as calm as you can. If you start projecting any strong emotion, such as fear, they’ll surround you in seconds.”

  “Great,” I muttered. “Well, that thought will help me stay calm.”

  He looked at me intently. “If you fail, it will be disastrous for all of us, and you will die an agonizing death.”

  “Great pep talk, Roan!” He might be a terrifying fae warrior, but he would never make it as a sports coach. “Now give me a second.”

  I glanced at the structure, my heart beating, fear already clawing its way out. I took a deep breath, clearing my mind.

  I could do this. I was a psychologist; I understood the mind-body connection and cognitive behavior therapy and all that crap. I focused on my breathing first, forcing it to slow. Then, I envisioned the day Scarlett and I went to the spa to treat ourselves. The tranquil music, the soothing face masks, the gentle massages—Scarlett monologuing about history. When we got back to Scarlett’s apartment, we drank gin cocktails and watched Old School. My choice. Scarlett would have forced us to watch a documentary about the bubonic plague.

  My pulse slowed down, my body relaxing. Tacos, the smell of spring, jogging in the light rain.

  Roan said nothing, didn’t try rushing me. He could probably feel my fear diminishing.

  Finally, calmness restored, I turned to the mirror, feeling for the reflection. It lurked behind the glass, waiting for me, a part of my being.

  I sensed the second reflection in the warden’s office easily, and I merged them both while thinking of nothing but cucumber face masks and pedicures. Then I stepped closer and shimmied through the mirror on the tree, feeling the cold liquid wash over my face and body.

  I stepped into a dark room, through a mirror hanging on the wall. Carefully, I stepped as quietly as I could onto the floor. At least the air in here was warm, a small relief to my frozen nose and ears.

  My gaze flicked to the bed, where a man lay curled in an over-sized blanket. The warden?

  Despite his height, his long fingers and fine features gave him a delicate appearance. His eyes were shut in peaceful slumber, and pointed ears poked out of his long black hair. He exhaled, gripping the blankets tighter around his thin shoulders. A long, pointed tongue darted out, and he licked his lips.

  Maybe he could feel my aura, even in his sleep. My pulse began to race, and I forced my breathing to slow, focusing on random details around the room: An enormous wooden door, barred with metal; rough wooden walls; the jug of wine; the green shirt discarded on the floor… Good. Think mundane thoughts, Cassandra.

  A green shirt, the same emerald green of Roan’s eyes. Would the color look nice against my pale skin? I felt my breathing deepen, my heart rate slow.

  A small table stood by the bed, and a small leather-bound book lay on its surface. What did fae read before going to bed? Perhaps a bit of taboo pixie-on-fae romance.

  The inane thoughts kept the fear at bay, and I could hear the warden’s breathing deepen.

  Carefully, I tiptoed to the door, filling my head with calming thoughts of warm baths and beach breezes.

  When I opened the door, the corridor’s torches cast a flickering glow into the room. I quickly slid out, closing the door behind me, and stepped into a stone tunnel, the ceiling arched high above me. In both directions, the hall twisted.

  As Roan had instructed, I turned to the right. I stalked through the tunnel as quietly as I could. Every ten feet, heavy oak doors interrupted the stone walls, and a silvery magic glowed around them.

  As I walked, I found myself in a maze of twisting corridors that zigged and zagged in all directions, until at last, I came to a dead end.

  Wrong way. What the hell was I even doing in this godforsaken place? Swallowing hard, I turned around, trying to marshal a sense of calm.

  I fumbled in dimly-lit corridors for several more minutes, my self-control slipping as I heard nothing but my own breathing.

  But when my pulse began to race out of control, I started to hear the rattling of chains behind those wooden doors, and a pained moaning. I knew that meant my aura was enticing the fae.

  Twice, when I heard the creatures hurl themselves against the doors, I forced myself to stop and think of the quiet forest, of that dream I had of Roan… Nope, nope. That was making my heart race again. Lampreys, taxes, my former coworker noisily licking his yogurt spoon and shoving it back in his desk…

  Finally, I found myself in a large room with a wooden table and a huge fireplace. Pots and pans hung from the ceiling, and the smell of bread wafted from the pantry doors. A sigh of relief slid from me. This must be the kitchen, where the wardens and guards ate.

  I stepped into the room and walked to the door. A metal bar crossed it—thick and long, blocking the door completely through two metal loops. Slowly, I slid the bar through the metal, and the creaking made my heart race.

  At last, I pulled the bar through the loops. The door almost instantly opened to the icy winter air, and Roan’s powerful form towered over me. Pale moonlight washed over his skin, now a porcelain shade, his eyes the color of moonlight, his hair specked with snow.

  His body was alert and tense as he walked in. Behind him, a body lay on the ground, blood staining the snow.

  So now I was an accessory to fae murder. Cucumber face masks, Downton Abbey…“We should hide him,” I whispered.

  He nodded, turning back to the body. In a swift movement, he lifted the guard easily onto his shoulder.

  I hurried across the kitchen, pulling open a pantry door. Roan carried the corpse into the room, then shoved it into the pantry. There
was a key in the pantry door, and I locked it and took the key, pocketing it.

  “Stay close to me,” he said, walking toward the hall.

  Now that I had him here to mask my aura, I could stop panicking about my heartbeat and pulse. Relaxing my tight grip on my mind, I let the fear and thrill pour in as I looked carefully around me. Now that I could focus on the task at hand, I was able to move faster, in silence.

  “The entrance to the dungeon is in the warden’s room,” Roan whispered.

  I nodded, remembering the large, barred door I had seen there. After finding my way around the tunnels earlier, I could easily imagine the layout of the building.

  “I think I know the way,” I whispered. “Follow me.”

  Roan merely nodded and slowed down, letting me take the lead. Whatever else he thought of me, he no longer doubted my abilities. I brushed past him and hurried through the maze of tunnels.

  I led him to the door in no more than three minutes. He leaned down, whispering, “Stay close. I can feel your fear from here.”

  I nodded, watching as he slowly turned the handle, pulling open the door. His glamoured silver eyes pierced me.

  I slipped in past him, back into the warden’s room. He’d rolled over now, clutching his blanket tight. Slowly, we crept across the room. And when we’d crossed halfway, the warden snorted, rolling over, his eyelids fluttering.

  Chapter 24

  I jumped, my pulse racing, eyes intent on the warden. Roan’s hand snaked around my waist, pulling me closer to him, masking my fear with his aura. His hands seemed enormous on my waist, and for just a moment, I thought of that dream in the woods.

  Roan leaned down, smelling my hair, and his fingers tightened on my body. And now my pulse was racing for a different reason.

  Slowly, he released his arm from my waist, but slid his other arm around my back, shielding my aura. I leaned into his powerful chest as we walked to the door.