I parked the motorcycle outside the old Tudor gate house where Gabriel and I had sheltered that night. I killed the engine and stepped off. Through the gate’s arch, I walked down the darkened path as silently as I could to the church door, which had been left slightly ajar. I slipped inside, my heart thrumming in my chest.
Candles in metal sconces dimly lit the church, casting dancing light over the cold stones. But just as I’d expected, the shiny candlesticks had been removed.
Foreboding shadows claimed most of the nave. I slipped behind a stone pillar, before crouching lower behind a pew. As I scanned the interior, my chest tightened. Two figures stood before the altar. In the dim light, I could make out that one was Gabriel, his hands behind his back, blood running down his face. At the sight of him clearly alive, something in me sagged with relief.
On the downside, the killer—dressed in a black hood that hid his features—was holding a knife to Gabriel’s throat.
“Trying to sneak up on me, three-born?” The killer’s voice reverberated in the large space. “I can feel you. Your terror is… exquisite.”
His voice was wrong, gravelly. He didn’t sound like Roan at all, but I was sure Roan could glamour his voice at will. He was enormous, and there weren’t many men, human or fae, who could match Roan’s size.
And yet, there was something familiar about his voice…
“Hickory dickory dare,” he said. “Let’s play a game. I’ll count to ten, and if you don’t show up, I’ll cut your friend’s ear off. One for sorrow.”
I was panicking too much to think clearly. Desperately, I grabbed the gun from my bag.
“Two for joy. Three for a girl. Four for a boy.”
God damn it—I needed more time. With Roan’s inhuman speed, I wasn’t sure I could get a clear shot without jeopardizing Gabriel’s life.
My breath grew ragged in my throat. The police should show up at any moment, buying us a fighting chance. Gabriel could lose his ear and live. It was his life I needed to focus on now.
“Five for silver,” he rasped.
I crawled to the end of the pew, and started sneaking closer. I wouldn’t show myself, not now. Letting the killer dictate the rules of the game was always the wrong move.
“Six for gold.”
His words intermingled with my heartbeats, my throat clenching. Perhaps he would be distracted when he cut Gabriel’s ear. Then I could stand up and shoot him in the fucking chest.
Just short range, Gabriel had said. These were iron bullets, their trajectory unpredictable. Just a little closer…
“Seven for a secret, never to be told.”
My hand shaking just slightly, I slid my finger into the Glock’s trigger guard as I inched further to the end of the pew. I’d have to take that chance.
“Eight for a wish.”
And then Gabriel’s fear hit me. A wave of energy, pulsing through my body like life itself, vibrating over my skin, through my bones, morphing from terror into pure, blissful euphoria. Raw power.
I swallowed hard. What the fuck was wrong with me?
“Nine for a kiss.”
“Stop!” I stood up, shoving the Glock back in my bag. “I’m here. It’s me you want. Let him go.”
Beneath the hood, I thought I caught a glimpse of a dark smile.
“Not just yet,” he said. “Your friend has been kind enough to alert me about your iron knife. Please take it out.”
Iron knife. Gabriel had told him I was armed, but only told him about one knife. I glanced at Gabriel, his hazel eyes pleading with me. I just had no clue what he wanted me to do.
“Okay.” I knelt and pulled the knife out of my boot.
“Gently,” he whispered. “Put it on the floor.”
“Do you promise to let him go?”
“You’re not in a position to ask for promises, Cassandra. Do it,” he growled. “Now!”
Slowly, I lowered the knife to the floor.
“Kick it over to me,” he said. Again, I was struck by the eerie familiarity of his voice, and a shiver ran up my spine.
I did as he asked, kicking the knife across the floor. It scraped the rough stone as it spun toward him. The killer approached it warily, dragging Gabriel with him. Covering his hand with his sleeve, he darted down and picked the thing up. He did it so fast, Gabriel and I didn’t even have time to react. He hurled it, far beyond the altar.
“Come closer, my darling,” he purred. “Slowly.”
I edged closer, my eyes locked on the blade at Gabriel’s throat. Any minute, the police should arrive. They should be here already.
When I was about twenty feet away, he held up a hand. “You can stop there.” He reached behind his back, then pulled out a pair of handcuffs. “Put those on. Arms behind your back.”
My heart skipped a beat. Handcuffs? Where would Roan have found handcuffs? I was starting to doubt my own assessment. After all, Roan wasn’t the type of fae who fed off fear.
And then, suddenly, a terrible realization sank in. Who else fed off fear?
The gravelly voice, the reason the cops hadn’t showed up. A man as large as Roan, who knew everything the police did, whatever measures they took to protect the public from him. A killer who sowed fear in the public, let the tabloids print their lurid articles about immigrants… all that fear to feed off. My breath left my lungs.
Almost no one was as large as Roan, except—
“DCI Wood,” I said in a choked voice.
He slid off the hood, revealing his face. The chief inspector smiled at me pleasantly. “Not such a good profiler after all. The killer was with you the entire time, and you never even suspected. The FBI is overpaying you.”
“So, you called Gabriel about the murder…”
“I did. When I found out that you were in touch with him. His phone was tapped, you see. I took care of that.”
As he spoke, his face began to change, black claws lengthening from his fingertips, fangs glinting. His silvery hair shifted to a deep copper, the lines on his face disappearing, dark eyes shifting to a ghostly gray. The air left my lungs as I recognized him from Trinovantum. He was the man they called the Rix—the right-hand man of the terrifying fae king.
Trembling, I hugged myself, letting my right hand rest just at the brim of my bag. “You’ve been glamoured all along, disguising yourself as a Chief Inspector.”
He cocked his head. “What better way to sow discord in the human realm?”
“What do you want with me?”
“It was very impressive,” he rasped, ignoring my question. “How Gabriel had tried to warn you when you called. I nearly killed him straight after. But then you called me, and… well, you can guess the rest. Handcuffs on, three-born.”
“There’s one thing I don’t understand.” I bent lower for the handcuffs. “Why—” My hand slipped into my bag, gripping the Glock. Without pulling it out, I swung the bag forward, pulling the trigger three times.
The explosions echoed off the stone hall. And they all missed. The Rix had jumped as soon as I began to move, his body as fast as lightning. In one swift movement, he rolled to the side, then lunged for me. Before I could get another shot out, he slammed his fist into my face, his other hand twisting the gun away. Within a fraction of a second, he was shoving the barrel of the Glock into my own temple. I had never seen anyone move so fast. It was almost as if he had teleported to stand by my side.
“Iron bullets!” he hissed. “So clever. Freeze, Detective!”
Gabriel, who had begun moving toward us, froze at the sight of the gun to my skull. His hands were still cuffed behind his back.
“Here’s what you don’t seem to get,” Wood said. “You two are flooding me with fear. Do you know how amazing that feels? I was pretty strong before, but now? I’m fucking invincible.”
I swallowed. I’d felt it myself, felt the power of Gabriel’s fear. Wood fed on fear as well. And with my pixie blood, he was getting an extra dose. No wonder he was so fast. And no wonder he liked te
rrorizing the city, sowing terror throughout London to soak up the power.
“Pick up the handcuffs, and lock your hands behind your back,” he snarled at me.
I was out of options. Kneeling, I picked up the handcuffs, clicking one over my wrist. Wood didn’t wait for me to do it myself; he pulled my other hand roughly, locking the cuffs together. He then patted me down, his breath getting heavier as his hand slid up my thighs to my ass. Bile rose in my throat.
He tore the bag from my shoulder, and ripped out the compact mirror. He crushed it in his fist—ruining my chance at escape, my hope of getting the second knife.
Then he kicked me in the back, and pain exploded through my spine. I went sprawling onto Gabriel, both of us falling onto the floor
“Now, isn’t that sweet.” His eyes gleamed. “Too bad your friend is about to die, Cassandra.”
I groaned, trying to catch my breath. My back pulsed in pain.
“You’ve been a pain in my ass from day one, Agent Liddell.” His eyes were half-lidded, his body glowing with a pale, blue light. “Agent Pain-in-the-ass.”
I stared at him. I knew what that glow meant—I’d seen it on Roan when he fed off lust. DCI Wood was getting stoned on my pixie fear. No wonder he wasn’t killing me. He was enjoying it too much. Shooting me would be tantamount to flushing away his wonderful new drug.
“I thought of killing you, too. But how much sweeter would it be to take you on as a slave? To feed from your delicious terror as I cut into your skin, night after night.”
Oh, fucking hell.
I had to buy us time. Give him a reason to keep talking, enjoying the moment, while I figured out a new plan.
I lifted my eyebrows, letting my raw fear run rampant. Beating heart, short breaths. Full-blown panic would get this guy trashed. “That night, when I chased you. I followed you to a fae party. What were you doing there?”
His lip curled. “Not a party,” he said. “We no longer indulge in immoral parties. It was a gathering of equals. And I went there because I knew the police couldn’t follow me. You followed me? Very impressive. I knew about your magic after your escape from the police station, but…” He trailed off, swaying on his feet. His eyes were fixed on me, entranced. “I think I lost my train of thought. Being by your side when you’re overcome by fear is a delicious experience.”
“So that’s why you killed those women? Just to feed off their fear?”
“Partly, yes.”
“And to feed off Londoners’ fear. To sow terror throughout the city until no one trusted anyone around them.”
“Now, now.” He arched an eyebrow. “Do I look like the James Bond villain, who tells you all his nefarious plans just before you manage to escape? No.” He stood straighter, pointing the gun at Gabriel. “As scrumptious as this discussion is, it’s time for—”
A figure leaped from behind a stone pillar, roaring with anger, and slammed into Wood.
And as he did, I caught a glimpse of deep, emerald eyes.
Chapter 31
Both men jumped back to their feet, Roan’s horns gleaming with gold, his eyes shining with animalistic anger. He stood eerily still, but tightly wound with barely controlled rage, like a snake ready to strike. In ordinary circumstances, I’d put my money on Roan, no question. But Wood had just gorged on a whole lot of fear, and there wasn’t much lust going around to bolster Roan’s power.
The Rix glowed with that pale blue light, his empty fingers twitching with anticipation. I could tell by the look on his face that he thought Roan didn’t stand a chance against him.
Frantically, I scanned the floor for the gun. If I didn’t help to end this, I’d end up the permanent torture-slave of a fae psychopath. After a tense second, the Rix struck Roan, his hand a blur of motion. Roan’s head shot back as the fist connected with a loud crack.
Wood lashed out again, but this time Roan was ready, deftly dodging aside. At the same time, with a stunningly feral grace, he grabbed Wood by the shoulders, hurling him into a pew with a roar. He shattered the wood.
I couldn’t see the damn gun anywhere, but I could see my bag, a few feet away from us. I knew I had several hairpins in it. As long as Roan kept the Rix busy, Gabriel and I should be able to uncuff each other.
“Help me stand up,” I whispered to Gabriel.
“Okay,” he wheezed. By his labored breath, he sounded as if he was badly hurt. We leaned against each other. Slowly, using his back as leverage, I stood, then crouched a bit lower.
My jaw dropped at the sight of Roan tearing a six foot long pew from the floor and hurling it. It clipped Wood in the shoulder, and he snarled in pain. In a blur of blue, he was on top of Roan, pummeling him with a barrage of lightning-fast punches.
I tore my gaze away, hurrying to my bag. I crouched down with my back to it, then picked it up, and hurried back to Gabriel’s side.
“Okay,” I said. “Stand up.”
With my help, he managed to stand up. In the background, I heard Roan growl in pain, and shuddered. We needed a few more seconds.
“There’s a hair pin in my bag,” I said. “Try to get to it.”
I felt Gabriel’s hands sink into my bag and rummage inside it, his breath whistling.
“What’s wrong with your breathing?” I asked.
“Broken ribs. Punctured one of my lungs.”
Shit shit shit. I could only hope his other lung would stay intact with those fractures.
“Hurry!” I said.
“I don’t know how you expect me to find anything with all this useless tat in here.”
“It’s there, Gabriel. Just find it!”
“Got it!”
“Okay! Can you uncuff me?”
“Of course I can, what do you take me for? Give me a second…” His hands fumbled against mine as I watched the two giants grapple, smashing church pews. Dust and plaster rained from the ceiling. Wood’s hands wrapped around Roan’s neck, while Roan’s thumb pressed against Wood’s right eye, about to pop it. Wood’s screams echoed off the ceiling, but Roan couldn’t get enough breath to make a sound.
Adrenaline, and the power of Gabriel’s fear, surged through my blood. “Hurry up.”
“Got it!”
With a click, the handcuffs loosened, and I slid my wrist from it. With my hands free, I turned around and plucked the pin from Gabriel’s hands. It took just a few seconds to uncuff him.
“The gun,” I whispered. “We need to find the gun.”
“I can see it.” He pointed, and my heart sunk. “But we’re not gonna get it.”
The gun lay just a few feet from where Roan was smashing Wood into the altar.
I swallowed hard. Part of me wanted to stay to help Roan. But I was fresh out of weapons, and Gabriel needed a doctor—fast. The only remaining iron weapon was back at Gabriel’s, and I didn’t have a mirror.
“Let’s go,” I said. “There’s a hospital just outside, and we can get help.”
Once we got out of here, I’d be able to get to a mirror, find the knife, and come back to help Roan if he needed it. Plus we could call backup.
Gabriel leaned into me as we crept down the aisle, the sound of grunting and smashing echoing off the high ceiling as they trashed the church. I led Gabriel through the old oak door to the darkened pathway into the cool night air, and we moved toward the Tudor gate.
But as we did, a hail of gunshots rang out behind us. I whirled back, fists clenched.
My stomach flipped. Roan. “I have to go back.”
“That’s a terrible idea.” Gabriel clutched his chest. “And how do you know Wood was the one with the gun?”
I gritted my teeth. “Roan has no clue how to use a gun. I’m sure of it. He probably wouldn’t even recognize what it was.”
“We should call for backup.”
I frowned. As soon as the police showed up, they’d recognize their boss. They weren’t going to take a fugitive’s word over his.
“Listen,” I said hurriedly. “I’ll go out first,
draw him away. While I’m doing that, I need you to look for the iron knife. I think it ended up someplace by the altar.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Have you lost your mind?”
“Possibly.”
He nodded slowly. “Fair enough. What did you do with the other knife?”
“I’ll need a mirror to get to it. The gun is gone. Wood could be killing Roan, and the only thing we can hurt him with is that knife by the altar.”
“It won’t work, Cassandra. He’ll see us searching for the knife.”
But as I stared into his hazel eyes, an idea bloomed in my mind. “It’ll work.”
* * *
Clutching the empty bottle of invisibility potion, I crept back into the church. I told Gabriel to follow two minutes behind me.
The chapel’s silence unnerved me. I wanted to hear Roan’s roars, furniture breaking, foundations trembling, screams of frustration and pain. Silence meant death. I crouched in the shadows by the door, straining to hear breathing or movement. Nothing—no movement or sound in the shadowy hall except the eerie dancing of candlelight over the stone floor. How long did it take for the invisibility potion to kick in? I couldn’t quite remember.
Grasping the bottle, I wound up for a throw, then pitched it as hard as I could. The tiny glass flew in an arc above the broken pews, finally smashing on the stone aisle.
A sudden motion revealed Wood’s position. He lingered in a dark archway near a transept. In just a fraction of a second, he hobbled over to the pews toward the smashed glass by the opposite transept. At least Roan had done some damage to the bastard.
While Wood hunted around, I crept further down the aisle, until I found Roan on his back between two smashed pews. At the sight of him, my throat tightened. A pool of blood spread out below him. If it hadn’t been for the gun I had brought with me, I had no doubt Roan would have slaughtered Wood.
I crouched down, feeling for his pulse. At his throat, I felt only a faint, slow throb, barely there.
My mouth went dry, and I picked up a piece of wood, chucking it at the opposite transept again, buying more time. While Wood limped across the church, searching for his intruder, I crouched by Roan’s side.
Agent of Enchantment (Dark Fae FBI Book 1) Page 24
