To Kill a King (Hollowcliff Detectives Book 2)

by C. S. Wilde

  As the years passed, new memories replaced old ones, until the thought of Lunor Insul didn’t bring Bast any pain.

  Didn’t bring him any joy, either.

  It was a bittersweet sensation, especially when he remembered Leon, Karthana, and Master Raes, but it was never enough to call it regret.

  Uncrossing his arms, he stepped closer to Fallon’s desk. “No way.”

  The captain frowned at him, leaning back on his fancy leather chair. “You think you have a choice, baku?”

  “Fallon, we have enough work in Tir Na Nog, and I’m a vital part of your plan here,” Bast argued with a degree of respect, hoping that would give him extra points. His captain hated ass-kissing, but Bast was desperate enough to try it. “You’re smarter than any fae in this borough. You know that assigning me to babysit a human detective is a waste of resources. Give her to someone else. Jada loves humans, especially the females.”

  “I need Jada elsewhere. Look, Bast, I can count on my fingers the number of fae I trust in this precinct.” Fallon raised one red eyebrow at him, silently daring him to disagree.

  He couldn’t, of course.

  “It’s not every day that a light court king gets murdered,” he continued. “On Clifftown, nonetheless.”

  “Some fae enjoy the pleasures of human flesh,” Bast argued. “Nothing wrong with that.”

  “Absolutely, but the light courts deem sex with humans as shameful, and now one of their kings died in the arms of a woman, in the human borough.” He pointed out, propping his elbows on the mahogany table. “Ever since the news broke, they’ve been agitated. The shigs are afraid. Make no mistake, Bast, this is our chance to nail them, especially if whoever killed Zev Ferris is from a light court.”

  “Fallon…”

  He slapped the table. “This is our checkmate, I feel it in my bones. I’ll trust no one other than you to deliver the blow. Understood?”

  Bast groaned, his lips curling because he knew there was no point in arguing. He wouldn’t make it easy, though. “Fine, but I want someone to winnow me there.”

  “Learn to do it yourself.” His captain turned his attention to random papers scattered on his desk.

  “I can’t break the magic barrier that protects Clifftown. Also, I can’t fucking winnow.”

  The captain stared at Bast from below his eyebrows, seeing right through to him. “Your magic, your night as you call it, is ridiculously powerful. You can do anything you set your mind to, if you focus.”

  “I was an assassin for years. If I’d been able to winnow, I’d have learned it a long time ago.”

  “Sometimes I swear to Danu it’s like having a child,” Fallon grumbled as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Fine. I’ll get you winnowed into human territory, which is illegal by the way.”

  Bast winked at him as he went for the door. “Small sins, Captain. It’s how we get things done in Tir Na Nog.”

  “You can’t come in here!” the puffy human officer yelled the moment Bast entered the apartment.

  With his bushy moustache and flushing pink skin beading with sweat, he seemed to be the type who had a talent for eating those donuts humans so loved. The sugar powdering his facial hair was evidence enough.

  Rolling his eyes, Bast pushed himself forward. “I can do whatever I want.”

  Not true. He couldn’t harm the idiot without causing an incident between the boroughs.

  Bast went on for maybe three steps before the baku stepped on his way again.

  “You can’t take this case from us. A human was murdered in here.”

  Odd that he’d assumed Bast would take over the case instead of helping solve it. Then again, most crimes involving faeries in other boroughs were handed on a platter to Tir Na Nog, all thanks to fae bureaucrats in high places claiming cultural insensitivity—whatever that meant.

  Never mind that they were corrupt as fuck, and on the light courts’ payroll. Never mind that those same bureaucrats worked their way inside Bast’s precinct to guide investigations in their favor. Those sukets forced Fallon’s hand, and his captain hated that, but his political power only went so far.

  Yes, the other boroughs had every reason to hate the fae. Honestly, Bast wasn’t a fan either, but he was there to do his job and this malachai blocked his way.

  He pushed the human starkly, throwing him on the floor—diplomacy be damned.

  “Danu in the fucking prairies,” Bast grumbled as he approached the two figures with their backs to him; presumably the two detectives in charge of the crime scene. “Are all humans as stupid as your colleague?”

  “I don’t know,” the female on his right turned to him. “Are all pixies assholes like you?”

  As a former cold-blooded assassin, and a seasoned Hollowcliff detective, Bast never froze. Ever. Yet, he froze then.

  Humans weren’t an exotic choice for him—he’d laid with plenty before. This one however, looked simply exquisite. Different from everyone he knew in every single way, and he couldn’t pinpoint why.

  Mera Maurea, at least he hoped this was her, didn’t have a perky nose or a high cheekbone. She didn’t have a gentle face, either. Her lips weren’t full like the faerie princesses from old stories, and her hair didn’t flow smoothly like silk.

  Still, she was jaw-dropping.

  Her green eyes had an intensity that stole his breath away. As if they saw Bast for everything that he used to be, was, and everything he would become. Those piercing emeralds matched her straight nose and strong chin; her dark eyebrows, too.

  Mera wasn’t a gentle snowfall, or a sweet ray of sunshine. She was the hurricane that swept entire cities into the sky; the thunderstorm that preceded the end of days.

  And her tits. Halle. The fucking tits...

  She assessed him as much as he assessed her. By her shallow breathing and the slight opening of her perfect mouth, she clearly approved of what she saw.

  A lazy grin spread on his lips. “Mera Maurea?”

  Please say yes.

  She nodded.

  A weird, light sensation fluttered in his chest, but Bast had to focus. He was there to solve a case, not stare at the woman who hardened his plaything simply by existing; a strong reaction that could mean a world of things, specifically that she might be his…

  No, Bast didn’t believe in stupid folk tales.

  Turning to the male on his left, he cleared his throat. “Julian Smith, I assume?”

  The baku saluted him with a middle finger. “Yeah, and you are?”

  Bast ignored the offense only because he was much more interested in Mera. “Sebastian Dhay.” Shoving both hands on the pockets of his tailored pants, he locked his attention on her. “You can call me Bast. I’m here to investigate the murder of Zev Ferris, king of the Summer Court.”

  Her jaw dropped, her lips shaping an ‘O’. Hmm, he wondered what he could stick into that tantalizing mouth of hers…

  Focus on the case, Dhay, he chided himself.

  “You’re telling me that this guy,” Mera pointed at the victim, “who’s dressed like a leprechaun merchant, is a light court king? Are you serious?”

  Bast gave her a dashing smile, hoping his usual charm would work. “Not everyone can dress well, sugar tits.” He ogled her attire as if trying to prove his point.

  Halle! Sugar tits? When had he lost his touch?

  Sarking jalls, he couldn’t take it back now.

  Glaring at him, a furious blush rose to her lovely cheeks. “Sorry if I don’t dress to your dandy standards, pixie.”

  A loud laugh burst from Bast’s lips. Mera was terrible with cursing. Theo surely had a filthier mouth, and that meant a lot considering his brother was a monk.

  It’d been so long since they’d last spoke… Yet, Bast couldn’t think about that now; couldn’t delve on the past.

  He had a case to solve.

  “Your partner is most intriguing, isn’t she?” he asked Julian.

  The shig kept his arms crossed, not an inch of amusement on h
is face. “Disrespect the lady again, and you and I will have a problem, asshole.”

  Disrespect?

  He hadn’t disrespected her, just pointed out the truth. Her breasts were spectacular, and anyone who denied it was either blind or a fool.

  “You will have a problem, human,” he assured. “I’ll simply call it entertainment.”

  “The King of the Summer Court is dead and you’re here alone?” Mera interrupted their exchange, looking past him. “Where’s the cavalry?”

  “Not bad, sugar tits.” This time he did it because he liked to see her blush, but before Mera could scream at him, he raised his hands in surrender. “I meant no disrespect.” He pointed at her breasts. “They’re nice, perky, and just the right size. It’s a compliment, really.”

  He gave her a thumbs up.

  The glare those fierce green eyes shot him told Bast he better be careful. For the first time in his life, he feared what a human might do to him.

  “Call me sugar tits again, and I swear I will bite off your fingers one by one, dickwart.”

  Dickwart?

  Hmm, creative. Bast would add the word to his vocabulary. Apparently, she wasn’t as bad with cursing as he’d assumed.

  “Is that a promise?” he asked wickedly.

  Mera looked flabbergasted, her shocked expression incredibly titillating.

  Fuck, how this human fascinated him…

  “I’ll be honest with you two,” he went on, forcing himself to focus on the matter at hand. “We want discretion on this one. Your human captain traded that for minimum interference from our side. So here I am.”

  “Great,” Mera retorted. “Try not to stand in our way, and—”

  “No, no, you don’t understand. I’m not here to assist you both. I’m here,” he pointed at her, rejoicing in the revelation, “because I’m your new partner.”

  Chapter 21

  Leon sat deep in thought on a black padded chair, staring at the half-open window. A soft ocean breeze ventured inside his dark room, fluttering the black curtains and playing with loose strings of his wavy hair.

  Bast’s brother didn’t acknowledge them when the servant Sidhe announced Mera and Bast had arrived. He still ignored them as they stepped closer.

  “Leon,” Mera began, pulling out a small pad from her jacket’s pocket. “We came as soon as possible.”

  Sunlight peered through the small gap and softly graced the future king, highlighting his frame from the rest of his dark bedroom.

  “Did you see the body?” he asked without turning to them.

  She exchanged a worried glance with Bast. “Yes. We did.”

  The victim was called Vinci, a servant who’d eaten a poisoned pheasant meant for Leon.

  Mera had seen gruesome in her line of work; was used to it by now, but even she hadn’t been able to look at Vinci’s body for long.

  The corpse had swollen like a plum preparing to burst, his skin as purple as an amethyst. His eyes seemed ready to pop out of their sockets, and black veins coursed underneath his skin, like he was a vase about to crack. A stream of dried vomit clung to his jaw.

  Bast explained that the poison was called Nokto Yattu, Night Death, and it suffocated the victim by swelling the walls of their throat. It also forced them to vomit, but since the way out was mostly blocked, bile stayed inside—and slipped into the victim’s lungs. Which meant he’d drowned in his own puke.

  “Vinci died protecting me.” Leon’s attention remained trapped on the half-open window. Birds chirped from a distance, the sky fiercely blue outside. “My family, my servants, they are dying.” His lips trembled, his voice a whisper. “I can’t protect them. How can I watch over an entire island?”

  “You can’t possibly blame yourself for this,” Bast grumbled under his breath. “Stop trying to fix everything!”

  Leon didn’t seem to listen, or care. “Vinci insisted he should taste my food as a precaution, since Father had been poisoned. I rejected the idea, of course, but he was adamant.”

  “We’ve gotten the statements from the witnesses,” Mera interrupted quietly, hoping to divert the course of the conversation. “Your mother’s and the other servant’s.”

  “How is she?” Leon asked absently. “It was a horrible thing to watch, Detective. The poison acted so quickly...”

  “Mom’s fine,” Bast assured, stepping forward. “A little shaken, but she’s seen worse.”

  Mera shuddered, wondering what could’ve been worse than that.

  Ah, yes. Burying one of her sons.

  Giving Bast a thankful glance, Leon returned his focus to the day outside. “Corvus didn’t do this. He couldn’t have.”

  “Wake up,” her partner snapped. “He’s not the fae you raised; none of us are. He killed Father and Theodore, and now he’s coming after you, Big Brother.”

  “Why?” He pushed the chair back at once, and the wooden legs screeched against the marbled floor. Leon stood in the way of a bison about to attack, his nostrils flared and his fists balled. “Our family is twisted and wayward, I will not deny that, but why would our brother kill his own?”

  “It’s the crown,” Bast muttered, and maybe Mera was wrong, but he seemed to shrink against Leon’s looming presence. “Now more than ever, I’m sure that Corvus is after it.”

  “You think he would—”

  “I know he would, especially if the nightblood has taken over. If we’re all dead, he’s the sole heir. A Night Prince losing his mind and trying to eliminate the competition isn’t unheard of.”

  “Darren, the bloody. Rhelli, the rabid.” Leon swallowed, his gaze lost on the floor. “Nissa, the mad queen.”

  “No way.” Mera chortled. “Hollowcliff would never allow that.”

  “It’s part of the treaty,” Leon argued. “Tagrad doesn’t care how a Night King is chosen, as long as they follow the rules of the agreement with the mainland. Also, as far as the Night Court goes, murdering each other is not particularly rare.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Father and Grandfather were against it,” Bast explained. “We’ve had a handful of peaceful centuries, but our history betrays us. Our blood, too.”

  Leon turned to Bast, his eyes glistening. “If the darkness caught up to Corvus, we must help him.”

  “Help is the last thing he deserves.” Narrowing his eyes at his brother, Bast crossed his arms. “Why couldn’t I feel you were in danger when the servant was poisoned? We set a mind link for a reason, Leon.”

  “I wasn’t the one in danger.” He raised his shoulders casually. “Besides, I didn’t want to be an inconvenience. Sending Mardi to fetch you at the precinct was best.”

  “Unbelievable.” Bast shook his head. “It’s always everyone else before you. That has to change. You’re about to be crowned as Night King, for Danu’s sake! If you feel danger, you will contact me.”

  “Bast—”

  “There’s no arguing on this, Big Brother. Corvus doesn’t know common sense or logic; he never did. And if nightblood has taken over him, then he’s incredibly dangerous.”

  Mera didn’t agree. For what she’d seen of Corvus, he was far from mad—simply a perfectly lucid prick.

  “Fine. I’ll warn you if I’m ever in danger again.” Leon sighed in defeat. “What will you do to our brother once you catch him?”

  Balling his fists, Bast gritted his teeth. “Guess.”

  Her partner was complicated, arrogant, and snarky, but deep down, decent and kind. Many shades of gray, but never dark. So, no, Bast would never kill his own brother.

  Would he?

  ‘His nickname is literally death bringer,’ Mera’s siren reminded her.

  “You will not kill Corvus, if that’s what you’re implying, Detective Dhay,” she warned pointedly.

  “Why not? He’s a threat to Hollowcliff, and a murderous—”

  “Killing comes easily to you. It comes easily to Corvus, too. However, you are the Hollowcliff detective, Yattusei. Not him.”

&nbs
p; Shock mingled with hurt in Bast’s sky-blue irises, but Mera didn’t care. Anything to snap him out of this… insanity.

  Clearing her throat, she addressed Leon. “Our assumption, and bear in mind it’s an assumption,” she said specifically at Bast, “is that Corvus killed both your father and Theodore, and that he tried to kill you to get to the throne. Fact is, he’s only tied to Theodore’s murder. We can’t condemn him for your father’s death or the attempt on your life. Not yet.”

  She expected Bast to object.

  He didn’t.

  Hope shone inside Leon’s pink irises. “So he might be innocent, Detective Maurea?”

  “We can’t confirm that yet, but until we’re certain, I want four of your best guards accompanying you at all times. Also, delay the coronation until we catch Corvus.”

  “Absolutely not. Delaying it might be exactly what he wants.” Leon waved his hand in the air. “I’m a trained assassin as much as he is. Let Corvus come to me. Maybe I can knock some sense into his head.”

  Bast rubbed his face in exasperation. “Your soft heart will get you killed, baku.”

  Leon glared at him, as if Bast had just shoved a blade into his chest. “Forgive me for not wanting my brother dead, Sebastian.”

  Charles Grey once mentioned diplomacy was about compromising. He might be an addict vamp, but he had a point.

  “Fine,” Mera agreed. “The coronation will not be delayed, but you will have four of your best guards accompanying you. That’s non-negotiable.”

  Leon turned back to the window, his hands held behind his back. “As you wish, Detective.” His tone sounded colder, his posture stiffer.

  Rushing steps clanked on the marble floor outside, until coincidence of coincidences, Charles Grey burst into the bedroom.

  His eyes were filled with red veins, his cropped auburn hair disheveled and messy, his lips cracked. The diplomat reeked of blood and booze. He watched them staring at him, then fixed the loose collar of his shirt. As if that could hide the fact Charles Grey was as high as a kite.

  Bowing his head to Leon, he placed one hand on his own chest. “I came as fast as I could, my prince.”

  Mera narrowed her eyes at him. Charles Grey might not be tied to the murders, but she didn’t discard him as a suspect, more out of a gut-feeling than anything else.