by C. S. Wilde
“Ah, he had a name,” Bast answered coldly, a severity in his tone that seemed alien to him, and yet fitted him perfectly. “Mourn him all you want. It won’t change the fact he’s dead.”
Lowering his head, the boy-assassin held down a cry. He hadn’t shed a tear when he’d crashed onto the deck, yet Mera was certain he’d broken his foot—or at least twisted his ankle—but he cried now for his dead mentor.
Mera pitied the poor kid. Against her better judgement, she put her gun back in its holster.
“Go and inform his family.” Bast’s night retreated into his skin. “Weep for your mentor, but do not be foolish enough to try avenging him. Understand?”
The youngling nodded reluctantly.
“And tell Master Raes to lift the bounty, or I’ll keep killing every assassin he sends my way. Do I have your word?”
“Yes,” the faerie snapped, his nostrils flaring as he tried to balance on one good foot.
Bast didn’t seem convinced. “Say it after me: I promise I will not lay a finger on you, Sebastian Dhay, or the human woman accompanying you, and that I’ll inform Master Raes as you requested.”
The young Sidhe rolled his eyes, but he repeated the promise nevertheless.
A snap of darkness flashed between them, a thunder of void cracking through the air, which probably meant the promise was sealed.
A magic promise was no small thing. If the young faerie broke his word, he would be in a lot of pain. Possibly for the last time ever, depending on how strong he was.
The assassin’s lavender wings blinked out of thin air. Like Bast’s, they were scaleless and smooth. One of them hung slightly crooked, but it flapped well enough to ease him upwards.
The faerie nodded to Bast’s uniform—white shirt, gray vest, and pants that made him resemble a dandy from the past.
An awfully captivating dandy.
“There’s no running away from death, Yattusei.” The fae’s wings kept flapping awkwardly behind him. “It’s not merely your gift. It’s who you are.”
With that, he took off into the sky.
Chapter 3
The harbor was made of marble and sandstone that matched the color of the moon on a clear night. Also, the place was packed with tourists.
Contrary to their elitist counterparts in Tir Na Nog, night fae welcomed all creatures to Lunor Insul. They encouraged visitors to come as often as they wanted, but on grounds of cultural respect, the Eastern and Northern territories⸺where most night fae lived⸺were forbidden to anyone from outside the island.
Once a fae, always a fae.
Walking down the ship’s ramp, Mera stepped on the white sandstone floor. Only magic could explain why there were no boot marks on the surface or even a tiny speck of dust. The moon hung shyly in the purple evening sky, ready to take over when the sun finished its descent.
Walking ahead, Bast carried two of their suitcases while Mera dragged the third. “Come on, kitten.”
She followed him through the vast harbor, dodging tourists and passersby as they went, until eventually, Bast halted on a sidewalk.
“Whoa,” Mera mumbled.
Now that the crowd had dwindled, she could actually see across the street and study the town. Every white building rose from the marbled floor the way trees rise from the ground, showcasing smooth grace and tender strength.
Blue flowers decorated the window sills on some constructions, while others had silver swirls embellishing their façades. Some were round, others squared, but they all had pointy, teardrop-shaped roofs.
If someone could build houses on the moon, Mera figured they would look like this.
Lunor Insul town had a gentle kind of beauty, like that of clouds strolling on a summer sky, or rain pattering on leaves. It nearly took Mera’s breath away.
Nightlings flew in straight lines parallel to the street, showcasing magnificent wings of different textures; scaled, smooth, and some even dotted. They dodged self-driving carriages and electrical vehicles; actual cars and buses imported from Clifftown, all packed with tourists and faeries.
Magic and technology together. It was a thing to behold.
When Bast signaled for a magic carriage, Mera thought she should ask him what had been on her mind for the past hour. There would never be a right time, anyway.
Taking a deep breath, she decided to go for it. “Why did the bounty hunter call you Yattusei?”
A big, snow-white carriage with golden embellishments and red padded seats stopped before them. The vehicle had no driver or horse, yet it didn’t have an engine either.
Bast didn’t answer her as they loaded their luggage onto the vehicle, and he didn’t answer as they got inside.
“Will you at least tell me what Yattusei means?” she pushed.
Instead of finally giving her something, he bent forward. “Take us to the precinct,” he whispered to the carriage, and the vehicle jolted to a start before going on its way.
“Fine.” Crossing her arms, she huffed. “Don’t answer me, then.”
Bast seemed fine with that, keeping silent and thoroughly ignoring her.
Mera was curious to meet the vampire diplomat tonight, since he was scheduled to show them the island’s precinct—if one could call it that.
Lunor Insul was technically a part of Tir Na Nog, but the Night King reported directly to Hollowcliff, not the fae borough. And because the island was technically a township, it didn’t have a proper precinct and officers like in the mainland, which meant Mera didn’t know what to expect.
The carriage glided seamlessly across the smooth surface of the streets, dodging other enchanted and electrical vehicles, plus the occasional fae. Yet, as they left the western side of the island, the traffic thinned.
Their carriage went up a hill lined by thick forestry on both sides, slowly leaving behind the electrical cars and most humans.
Night fell fast around Mera and Bast. Flickering lights suddenly blinked to life around the carriage, floating above and around them like fireflies made of white light. Mera looked back to see an entire island consumed by these mystical lights, as if the stars had come down to twinkle everywhere.
“Wow,” she muttered as she surveyed the city in the distance.
“Like what you see?” Bast asked from beside her.
Without facing him, she nodded, lost in the splendor that stretched across the island. “It’s incredible…”
In Mera’s experience, there were two sorts of beauty. The kind that stole her breath away, and the kind that revealed itself the more she studied it. Lunor Insul’s was the latter, a quiet, shy sort of beauty that had snuck up on her until it became jaw dropping.
She whirled forward, and when her gaze met Bast, she gasped.
A soft luminescence glowed on his dark skin, as if someone had sprayed him with neon blue dust, especially across the bridge of his nose.
“Every nightling’s skin reacts to the magic in the island,” he explained, clearly noticing the surprise in her face. “Local flora and fauna also have it.” He pointed to a bird flying past the faerie lights. Neon green patterns spread on its wings, as if the poor thing had been tribal-tattooed. The patterns matched the bird’s radiating green eyes.
All around them, plants glowed softly with glittering colors—purple, yellow, green, red. The entire rainbow came alive as the sun vanished in this place, their shine intensifying the darker the night became.
She turned to Bast, not knowing what to say. Without thinking, Mera cupped his cheek, wondering if his skin would feel any different.
It didn’t, of course, but his glowing freckles matched the bright blue of his eyes, and she realized then, that Bast was the epitome of beauty, at least to her.
Merciless and gentle at the same time.
His mouth hung slightly open, as if he admired her as much as she did him. Cupping her hand softly, he smiled. “I’m glad you’re here. I’m not the religious type, but if I were, I would thank Danu for you, kitten.” He leaned closer, his l
ips nearly brushing against hers. “Thanks for sticking around, even after… you know.”
His words warmed her heart, her cheeks; the space between her thighs, too.
All it would take to complete their kiss was a bump on the road. Mera never prayed, didn’t believe in such things either, but she prayed for a bump, hoping some greater force out there would listen.
“I’m your partner, aren’t I?” she countered playfully.
“Yes, and I’m the luckiest bastard in this damned world.” He watched her lovingly. “Mera, I…”
The carriage slowed down, stopping before a roadblock—the border to the eastern side of the island.
Lowering her hand from his skin, Mera scooched to the side, a warm tingling burning underneath her cheeks. She couldn’t decide if she felt relieved or angry at the interruption. Possibly both.
Silently, she watched the oncoming guards, two night fae with deep purple complexions and long white hair trapped in low ponies. The glow on their skin shaped neon pink and purple patterns similar to the bird’s.
“So, your family runs Lunor Insul’s entire security force,” she remarked quietly while the faeries approached.
The Sidhe’s fitted navy uniforms with silver details helped them blend in with the night, and the luminescence around the island.
“They do, yes. It’s why there are no officers on the island, just the night guard. Whenever a detective is needed, we can fly from Tir Na Nog directly. Or take the boat.” He winked at her.
“The government puts a lot of trust in your court.”
“The island gets a hefty sum of tourism money.” Bast shrugged. “It’s in my family’s best interest to make sure everything flows smoothly with the continent.”
According to history books, the Night Court had welcomed Tagradian intervention, and was one of the first to join the new government, either because they knew it meant progress, or because they wanted the light courts to shove it.
Probably the latter.
In return, they received the government’s full trust. Recently, the light courts had lost most of their power, thanks to Bast and Mera, while Lunor Insul remained fairly independent⸺and as strong as ever. Which meant Bast’s family was a lot smarter than the rest of the faeries.
She couldn’t tell if that was a good thing or not.
When the guards asked for their documents, Bast and Mera showed them their badges. Nodding, the fae stepped out of the way.
“Yattusei means death bringer,” Bast blurted quietly when the carriage rolled forward.
What a horrible nickname. It fit him perfectly, and yet, not at all.
“I don’t enjoy talking about that part of my life,” he admitted. “I was a different faerie then.”
“Were you?” Nearly two weeks ago, he’d ended more lives in minutes than Mera had in all her years in the force.
Death bringer.
Exactly that.
“There’s a difference between killing with motive, and killing to survive,” he argued. “I’ve only done the latter since I came to the continent.”
Deep down, Mera knew he was right, and yet, a part of her didn’t want to face it; didn’t want to admit that what happened at the Summer King’s penthouse had been the best of all outcomes. That it had been a matter of survival for them both, and that she felt relief instead of guilt, though she’d never admit it aloud.
Better change the subject.
“Who’s this Master Raes you mentioned when the fae attacked us?”
“He was my mentor and the head of the League. We must pay him a visit tomorrow if we want to find out what’s going on. We can’t solve my father’s alleged murder with assassins breathing down our necks.”
He was right, of course.
“One more thing,” he added. “I might need to use you as a last resource tomorrow. In case things go south.”
“Oh, no, no, no. If I do something⸻”
“No macabre, I promise. Your glamour is gentle enough that they’ll barely notice.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “I don’t like this.”
“You don’t have to like it.” He gave her an infuriating grin. “You just need to do it.”
Prick.
Finally, the carriage came to a halt, and they got off swiftly. As soon as they had their luggage, the enchanted vehicle jolted to a start and drove away.
Mera observed the white, two-story house with a tear-drop roof. “This is it? It’s small for a precinct, isn’t it?”
Cocking his head to the right, he shrugged. “I suppose it will be enough.”
Bast placed his hand on the wooden door and it clicked open.
The two-room area was dark, but Mera could distinguish a sofa in the precinct’s waiting space, then a cell at the back of the second room. Two desks stood not far from it, with a coffee machine on the right, and a water cooler. Beside one of the desks, and blending perfectly with the dark, she noticed a medium-sized safe with a silver handle for locking confidential information or evidence.
Well, at least the basics were here.
Bast snapped his fingers and the faerie lights outside ventured into the precinct, passing through the closed windows the way ghosts would cross walls⸺if ghosts existed, that was.
Faeries were provided with electricity like the rest of Hollowcliff and Tagrad, so there was bound to be a light switch in there somewhere. Most fae however, preferred sticking to the old ways whenever possible. Bast himself could use a computer and a phone⸺Mera had seen it twice⸺but he wouldn’t do it unless absolutely necessary.
The faerie lights did a great job at lighting the waiting room, though.
“Welcome.” A creepy voice sprang from the back, near the cell.
Mera narrowed her eyes to find a shadow breaking through the darkness. Another form appeared beside it with neon-purple glitter sprinkled atop its skin.
“Of course it’s the two of you,” Bast grumbled as he willed the faerie lights toward the second room.
A vampire clad in a black shirt and business suit stood before them, alongside a fae with cropped graphite hair dressed in the same way. As if they worked for a secret agency from the movies.
The vamp had milky skin and short auburn locks. Dark circles lined his clear green eyes, making him look either tired or hungry, she couldn’t tell which. His companion’s skin was almost as light as his, though the rest of his features were remarkably similar to Bast’s. Except for his hair, of course.
Mera pointed at the fae, then at her partner. “You’re related.”
“Benedict Dhay.” He bowed at her with a hand over his heart. “But you can call me Ben. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Detective.”
“Indeed.” Stepping forward, the vampire took Mera’s hand and kissed it. His clammy, ice-cold touch sent shivers down her spine. “Charles Grey at your service, Detective Maurea.”
“Thanks.” She pulled her hand away, wishing she could wipe it on her jeans.
Some guys oozed bad business, and this vamp was a prime example. She didn’t get the same vibe from Bast’s brother, though, even though he’d told her Benedict was nothing but a philanderer and borderline alcoholic.
Appearances could be deceiving when it came to the fae.
“Thanks for welcoming us,” Bast offered in a freezing tone before showing them the door. “If you will?”
“Ah, Sebastian.” Charles Grey’s smile reminded Mera of a hungry hyena. “It’s good to see you after such a long time.”
“Is it?”
“Of course it is, brother.” Benedict stepped closer. “You’re finally home.”
“This hasn’t been my home in a while.” Bast crossed his arms, a clear sign any chance of a conversation between them was over. “Don’t you two have a party to crash somewhere in the island?” Turning to Mera, he nodded toward the duo. “Charles and Ben are Lunor Insul’s most infamous party animals. Alongside Corvus, that is.”
Shaking his head in disappointment, Benedict blew and ex
asperated breath. “Why did I expect this would go any differently?”
“Because you thought I’d forget you’re Corvus’ lapdog,” Bast snapped.
Charles watched her partner with a certain bitterness. “Good at holding grudges, aren’t we?” He clapped his hands, faking cordiality. “Make yourselves comfortable. The access to the second floor is outside, through a set of stairs. You’ll find two bedrooms, a kitchen and bathroom, as well as a small living space, all ready for your enjoyment.” He eyed Bast and Mera in a knowing manner that felt icky. “Don’t forget, tomorrow you see Prince Leon at precisely 9:00 a.m.”
“Make that the day after tomorrow,” Bast said. “I have personal business to attend first.”
Ben’s jaw hung, his eyes widening. “What could be more important than seeing your family?”
“Don’t buy his act,” Bast warned Mera. “He’s a cruel jerk.”
“Oh, I don’t,” she assured. “Your people enjoy playing games.”
Raising one eyebrow at her, he smiled. “My people?”
“Yeah, you know.” She motioned to his pointy ears and strikingly blue eyes. “Assholes.”
Both Bast and Benedict chuckled, but her partner immediately scowled at his brother. As if they weren’t allowed to share a moment, a laugh. Mera felt sorry for Benedict, even though she knew pitying a fae might be foolish.
“Corvus and I aren’t these monsters you make us out to be,” Ben grumbled quietly. “Besides, how are you any better than us, Bast?”
“I’m not,” he countered point blank, yet his manner softened. “I’ll explain everything when we meet again, I promise. Right now, you have to let me do my job.” He turned to Charles Grey. “Speaking of which, are you here to represent Hollowcliff or my court?”
Charles blinked, as if he couldn’t believe Bast had dared to ask. “I’m here for both, as they are one.”
A remarkable save.
The vamp bowed at Mera, then narrowed his eyes at Bast. “I’ll be seeing you, Detective.” And with that, he left.
Benedict stepped forward, his jaw clenched and his eyes watering; eyes incredibly similar to Bast’s own. “Have it your way, brother. As you always do.”
