by Alex Rivers
“Have you been assigned?”
“Not exactly. But maybe we can spend some more time together. We can’t work all the time. We need to eat, too.”
“No shit.” Scarlett’s stomach rumbled audibly. “I’m starving.”
“Everything’s closed,” I said. “But I’m sure we’ll find something if we keep walking east. We’ve only been walking for… forty-five minutes.”
Scarlett looked down her watch, inspecting the light. “Dammit. Mine is blinking red now too. Fucking Igor.”
My throat tightened. Or maybe it’s my pixie magic screwing with your equipment. “When you said all fae are threats…”
“Shhh.”
I leaned closer to her, whispering, “What about half-fae? Like, pixies?”
“Yes,” she said quietly. “They’re also fae. Therefore, they are threats. They feed off emotions too.”
“But what if—”
“Shhh!” She shot me an irritated look, and yet I couldn’t quite let it go.
“I’m just saying. Maybe you should expand the way you think. Maybe you can make alliances with friendly ones.”
“There are no friendly ones. This is a dead end.”
My pulse raced, and I could feel my face flushing. I should just let the topic go, but this was important to me. I had to convince Scarlett that not all fae were dangerous, but I couldn’t simply tell her about myself. She knew my history. And that meant she’d know that my fae father had murdered my human mother. It wouldn’t exactly refute her theories. Once I told her what I was, she’d be wondering how long it would be until I snapped, too.
My heart raced. “You know my theory about evil. I’ve made my career off this. People aren’t born evil. It’s created through environmental factors. Neglect, abuse. Head injuries. A combination. It’s not something in people’s blood.”
“I know it’s important to you. But you’re talking about humans. I’m not. You can’t apply your human psychology to… the thing we’re talking about.”
Her closed-minded attitude was starting to piss me off. But if I couldn’t use myself as an example, maybe I could slowly introduce her to some normal, harmless fae. Or at least, as normal as the fae ever got. First, I’d let her get to know them a little. Only after she saw them as nonthreatening would I reveal the truth.
When I looked around the streets, I realized we weren’t far from Leroy’s. Perfect. We could get food there, and maybe I could slowly introduce her to some of the less lethal fae. “Scarlett, if a fae is glamoured, you don’t have the ability to see through the glamour, right?”
“No, we haven’t developed that level of enhancement yet. Q is working on it.” She glanced behind her. “And that’s the last thing I’m going to say in public.”
In the embassy, I couldn’t talk freely because the CIA operatives might be listening. And now on the streets, we couldn’t talk because everyone else might be listening. Classic CIA paranoia.
“Let’s talk about your ex,” said Scarlett. “The Virginia Stallion. Is he still banging three chicks on the regular?”
I grimaced. “Probably, but I’m not one of them.”
“You were always too good for him. The next guy you date needs my approval. A full interview. I may or may not use electrodes.”
I guess I wouldn’t be telling her about my little make-out session with the muscular fae warrior in his remote cabin. “Fair enough. You get to approve next time. Scarlett, I think I have an idea where we can get some food. An old wine bar not far from here.”
“You think it will be open?”
“I’m pretty sure. It’s just over here, in Smithfield.” We took a right onto a narrow, medieval-looking road.
Scarlett pointed at the sign: Cock Lane. “I know this one. Do you know what happened here?”
“I’m gonna guess medieval prostitution.”
She nodded. “Yes, but that’s not all. Apparently, a ghost haunted the street in the eighteenth century. The Cock Lane ghost, who accused a man of murder. The whole city flew into a panic. Mob rage. Chaos. The whole nine. Ghosts aren’t real, of course. So who do you think was behind that?”
“The—”
“Don’t say it out loud. But you get my point, right? Those creatures feed off fear.” She rubbed her stomach. “And right now, I really want to feed off food. My stomach is rumbling like a tractor.”
“We’re almost there. The place is called Leroy’s.” And the owner is probably fae. As well as most of the patrons.
She smiled. “Lead the way!”
We moved toward Guildhall, its ivory walls lending it the appearance of a palace of bone, spindly towers looming over the square like ribs. I shivered, thinking of the crimson interior where kings and queens had interrogated the broken bodies of heretics and traitors. A few rays of sunlight pierced the clouds, glinting off the bony spires. Something about this neighborhood made my skin grow cold, but I led Scarlett forward anyway.
Deep in the hollows of my mind, a river rushed over stones, and screams reverberated off the inside of my skull. Heads under the water, sacrifices to the gods…
I blinked, trying to clear my thoughts. I had to prove to Scarlett that not all fae were evil, even if I wasn’t entirely sure of it myself.
* * *
I descended the rickety stairs to Leroy’s, with my best friend—the professional fae-hater—in tow. My heart pounded hard. I knew I could be making the worst mistake in a long time, but I needed to convince Scarlett that not all fae were harmful. Some of them just served you really good drinks.
As I took the final step and surveyed the room, my pulse raced. I hoped to hell Scarlett couldn’t see all the weird shit going on in here. From the main room, dark tunnels branched off like spokes from a wheel, and fae lingered in each one, hunched over glasses of wine.
Candlelight and shadows danced over the central chamber. Everyone in the place looked bizarre, at least to me. An angular man sat in a corner, his skin snow-white and his black hair cascading down to his hips. He was playing bone dice with a small, dark woman, every inch of her arms tattooed with runes.
Sitting at a round table near the bar, three nearly identical women whispered to each other, their hair braided with seashells and flowers, silver-flecked eyes glinting wickedly.
In an alcove beneath a cluster of guttering candles sat a bearded man smoking a pipe. Purple smoke pooled around him on the floor, clouding his feet.
And as always, if I moved my head just right, I could penetrate further through their glamour. Whiskers on the man with the pipe, spiked teeth on the raven-haired fellow, the tattooed woman glowing with iridescent light. And the three seashell ladies wore clothing that shimmered, translucent, nothing underneath. Clearly, they were exiles from the court of Trinovantum, where women’s bodies were supposed to be covered up. I liked them already.
“This place is awesome.” Scarlett took in the atmosphere, apparently oblivious to the magic. “How did you find it?”
“I just happened upon it.”
“I love it. How…” She frowned. “What’s that smell?”
An acrid scent reached my nostrils—like plastic burning.
Scarlett raised her hand, staring at her watch. The surface had gone completely dark, and a small plume of smoke rose from the face. No wonder. It must have overloaded.
I shook my head. “Fucking Igor.”
“I’m going to kill him,” she muttered. “These things are expensive.” She took it off and thrust it into her bag.
I pointed to the empty chairs at the bar. Leroy was nowhere to be seen. “Shall we sit over there?”
As we moved closer to the bar, I half-feared Scarlett would suddenly pull out her gun, but she seemed completely oblivious to the strange figures surrounding us. As a pixie, I could see beyond the fae glamour, but Scarlett couldn’t.
We took two seats at the empty bar, scanning over the menus. As I debated between a cheese plate and lamb, someone pulled out a chair to my right.
Al
vin plopped into a chair, grinning at me. Just as I’d expected. His skinny form always haunted the place like a stoned ghost, his scraggly blond hair hanging in his face. He wore a T-shirt that read What Happens in Area 51 Stays in Area 51, with a cartoon drawing of an alien.
“Why, hello,” he said.
Scarlett raised an eyebrow. “Friend of yours?”
“He happens to be a lovely young man.” Even if he’s a fae.
Alvin smiled at me. “Glad to see you made it out of all that terrorist shit alive. I thought you’d be okay. You’re tougher than you look.” He jerked his chin at Scarlett. “Who’s your friend?”
“Scarlett, this is Alvin,” I said. “Alvin, Scarlett.”
He lowered his face, looking at Scarlett from under his eyelashes. “Your hair is dope.”
“Thanks, kid. I like your shirt. You gonna join us?”
Alvin leaned on his elbows. As usual, his eyes were bloodshot, and a cloud of marijuana smoke hung over him. “Are we getting dinner? I could eat a satyr’s legs right now.”
Scarlett frowned at the expression, but didn’t say anything, “Absolutely.” She leaned back in her chair. “And how do you know Cass?”
“She bought me food once or twice. She’s a lovely person. Thoughtful.” He nodded slowly. “Always pays her debts.”
“Debts?” Scarlett asked.
“He means the bill,” I cut in.
Alvin stared at me, his eyes flickering with flames. “I need to have a word with you.”
“Now?”
He nodded, his eyes blazing hotter, and I instinctively glanced at Scarlett. She looked at us, her eyes wide, but said nothing. She didn’t see it.
I stood. “I’ll just be a minute. Can you order us dinner from Leroy? And something for Alvin.”
“Sure.”
Alvin led me toward one of the stone tunnels, nearly empty of patrons. He huddled by the shadowy wall, glaring at me like a disappointed teacher, suddenly looking older than he normally did.
I raised my eyebrows. “What is it, Alvin?”
“You could say I’m a little vexed.” For just a moment, fear flickered in his eyes. “Why would you bring a counter-fae CIA officer into this bar?”
God damn it. Alvin, apparently, knew everything. “What makes you think she’s an agent?” I bluffed.
“I don’t think, man. I know.”
The air down here felt cold and dank. “She thinks all fae are a threat. I was hoping that if she could meet some nice young gentleman such as yourself, over time, her opinion might change.”
He narrowed his eyes. “And why are you so dead-set on convincing her?”
“She needs to know the truth.”
He cocked his head. “It’s Scarlett who needs to know the truth, is it? You wouldn’t, by any chance, be dead-set on trying to convince yourself?”
I folded my arms, matching his stance. “What are you, a fucking fae psychologist?”
“You owe me a favor, remember?”
“I remember,” I said quietly. Owing a favor to a fae was like giving them a blank check, and breaking a promise to a fae was a bad idea.
“The CIA has a… thing, yeah? Like a place when they write down all the fae names and what we done?”
“A database?”
He looked at me blankly. “Right. I’m in that database.”
I blinked. “And what did you do?”
“That’s neither here nor there. But I need you to get my name removed.”
“Alvin, I’m not saying I know what you’re talking about, but that’s not something I can do. I’m not in the CIA. Also, it’s probably treason.”
“I have faith in you, man. Plus, you have to do it. You owe me.” His eyes were heavy-lidded. “I’ll help.”
“Help?”
He shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled out a small pouch. He handed it to me. Inside was a small pendant inset with a marble-sized blue crystal. “You can use this to get people to do what you want. All you need to do is show it to your friend. Tell her to remove my name. Simple.”
I gave him the pouch back. “I’m not going to compel my best friend to do something she doesn’t want to do.”
“Nah, it’s not like that. She’ll be happy to do it once you show her the pendant.”
“That’s… that’s even worse! I’m not hypnotizing my friend to—”
He thrust the pendant into my bag. “You owe me, Cassandra. If I’m not deleted from that database… I’m as good as gone, innit?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Not all the fae are clueless when it comes to technology. There are fae technomancers. And they found out about the database.”
I thought about it. “Fae… hackers?”
“Yeah, man. It’s just a matter of time until they… I don’t know what’s the word. Open it.”
“Crack it? Decrypt it?”
“Yeah, whatever.”
“Why do you care?” I asked. “There are hundreds of fae in that database.”
He scrubbed a hand over his mouth, his eyes wide with fear. “You’ve just got to trust me.”
What was in that database that would freak him out so much? Something he didn’t want other fae to know, so…
Then, it hit me. “You’re the CIA source,” I whispered. “You’re the one who tipped them off! You told them about me, and the mark of the beast.”
He clamped his hands on my shoulders, gazing into my eyes. “You have to take my name off that thing, Cassandra. You don’t even want to know what they’ll do to me.”
He turned, disappearing into the shadows.
If Alvin was giving up the chance to eat a free meal, it was serious.
* * *
When it rains, it pours, and in my case, it was a fucking deluge. When I turned back into the main chamber, my heart skipped a beat.
Where Alvin had been sitting, Roan now sat at the bar, drinking amber wine. He lifted his glass to the light, swirling the wine around to watch it, the movement oddly sensual. Hypnotic, almost. Scarlett was clearly eyeing him with interest, as would any woman with a pulse.
Roan wore a black T-shirt and jeans, his tattoos curling over his arms, which were corded with muscle. Candlelight wavered over his golden skin, gilding his hair. If I let my eyes lose focus, I could almost see his magic tinging the air around him. Strange and seductive, it almost stained the air around him with gold, yet there was a hint of darkness in it, midnight shadows spilling through the amber like ink through water. I could feel his power rolling over my body, prickling my skin—somehow forbidding and inviting at the same time. He looked infinitely more relaxed than the first time I’d met him here—probably because we’d successfully rescued his best friend from the prison in Trinovantum.
I swallowed hard, suddenly regretting bringing Scarlett here. I wasn’t quite ready to introduce her to Roan, the dangerous fae I’d kissed in the Hawkwood Forest, lying bare on his rug, his powerful hands on my skin… For just a moment, when I thought of that kiss, my chest flushed.
Instantly, Roan’s head turned to me. His gold-flecked green eyes bored into me. My mouth went dry. Of course. He could sense what I’d been feeling, which only made my cheeks burn hotter.
With a wicked grin, he raked his gaze up and down my body. I gritted my teeth, forcing myself to think of necrotic flesh. That should kill my mood.
With my excitement suitably dampened, I nodded at Roan. He replied by raising his glass to me and taking a sip.
I smoothed out my dress, then returned to my chair and pulled it out.
As I sat, I took a deep breath. “Roan. Imagine meeting you here.”
“Cassandra.” His eyes lingered on me for longer than normal social interactions allowed. His fingers tightened into fists, and he no longer seemed quite as relaxed. “I was pleased to learn you were unharmed.”
I swallowed hard. So, he’d already checked up on me. “And when did you learn that I was unharmed?”
“As soon as I could.�
� He glanced at Scarlett, and he nodded. “Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise,” Scarlett said.
“Sorry,” I blustered. “I forgot to introduce you. Scarlett, this is Roan. He’s… he sometimes hangs out here.”
Scarlett smiled. “Cass, you seem to know everyone. I’m getting the impression that you’re a bit of a barfly here.”
“I’m not here that often,” I protested. “I only know Alvin and Roan.”
Leroy finally shuffled over to us, leaning on the bar. “What would you like to drink, Cassandra? The usual?”
“I don’t have a usual.” I thought of the claret with its clear, fruity flavor. “But yes, that’ll be great, thanks. And one for Scarlett, along with the cheese plates.”
“So…” Scarlett was sipping red wine, her expression suddenly serious. “Roan, is it? That’s an unusual name.”
Roan sipped his wine. “It’s been in my family for centuries.”
I drummed my fingernails on the table. Of course it had been in Roan’s family for centuries, considering he’d been alive for five of them.
Scarlett narrowed her eyes. “Is that so?”
Shit. This was a little too early for the grand fae reveal, and she was starting to become suspicious.
Roan’s gaze slid to me, candlelight dancing over the perfect planes of his face. “I’d been hoping to find you.”
“Oh?” I asked. Maybe I needed to stop this conversation before it got any worse. “That’s interesting, but perhaps we should find another time to talk.” I widened my eyes at him, trying to warn him.
He twirled the stem of his wineglass between his fingers. “You shouldn’t be in… this sort of bar. It isn’t safe.”
I frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“You are in danger.” He cut a cautious look at Scarlett. “I have heard from several people that you’re being targeted.”
“By whom?” Scarlett asked sharply.
He shrugged almost imperceptibly. “I can’t say.”
“Because you don’t know?” I asked. “Or because you just really like being cryptic?”
Roan’s eyes ran up and down my body, his lip slightly curled as if he were weighing me in the balance and finding me wanting. “Someone like you cannot protect yourself among the sort of people you find in here.”
