by Alex Rivers
He was trying to warn me without explicitly saying fae, but he was treading awfully close. In any case, his assessment of my skills rankled. “Is that so?”
He narrowed his eyes, and I had the sense he was losing patience. “Leave here, and return to your friend’s home for now. I can’t afford for you to get hurt. I’m going to need your help in a few days.”
“My help with what?”
His response was a widening of his eyes, a silent warning to me. He couldn’t say any more in front of Scarlett.
Scarlett leaned over me. “How well do you know each other, exactly?” Her green eyes locked on him. “And what makes you think Cass is being targeted by someone?”
Roan arched an eyebrow, unperturbed by her interrogation. “I have my sources.”
“Yeah? Care to share them?”
“No.”
“Right.” I took a deep breath. “I’m not going anywhere, but thank you for the suggestion.”
“You’re in danger. And you’re not capable of surviving without help.” Shadows flickered in his eyes, and his wineglass frosted as the room seemed to chill unnaturally. “Perhaps I shouldn’t be giving you the choice.”
Scarlett, I knew, was already reaching for her gun, and I was pretty sure Roan was about to unveil right in front of her.
I held up my hands, now desperate to calm this situation. “Okay, everyone relax.” I met Roan’s gaze. “Roan, I will speak to you another time.” I gave him my I’m not fucking around face.
The air grew colder until my breath misted in front of my face. For just a moment, his horns flickered on his head.
Scarlett jumped to her feet, pulling her gun. “I knew he was too hot to be human.” She pointed the gun directly at Roan’s chest—he didn’t even flinch. “There’s a dozen iron bullets in this gun, you fae fuck.” The playfulness had long since left her voice. “One wrong move and you’re dead.”
A deathly silence reigned over the bar, and everyone stared at Scarlett. The word iron rang in the air like a death knell. A few of the fae slipped out of the room like shadows; others closed in, their eyes gleaming.
Ignoring the gun, Roan turned to me. “There are many things you don’t know, but trust me when I tell you—”
“She’s not trusting a word you say, fae!” Scarlett’s voice was low and controlled. “Now shut the fuck up or I—”
Roan moved faster than lightning, his hand a blur. She yelped, the gun clattering to the floor. Roan held her wrist firmly as he loomed over her. “I could have snapped your arm in two,” he spoke through gritted teeth. “Because you’re a friend of Cassandra—”
She swung at him with her wine glass, shattering it against his face. He roared, letting loose, and she rolled to the floor, bounding back, gun in her hand.
I could sense the turmoil in the air as the façades slipped away. Wings, horns, and tails appeared in the crowd as the fae began unveiling around her.
“Jesus,” she breathed, swinging her gun left and right, trying to keep everyone at bay. “What is this?”
“Scarlett!” I commanded, my heart slamming against my ribcage. “Listen to me. Calm down, and don’t shoot!”
“They’re all fae!”
“They’re all harmless,” I shouted, far from sure. Roan definitely wasn’t. “You’re the only one in here threatening to kill people. Let’s get out of here, and talk about this outside.”
I grabbed her by her leather jacket, and dragged her to the doorway. She kept the gun trained on the fae as she backed out of the place, and up the stairs.
Before we left, I cast one last look back. Roan leaned on the bar, anger burning in his golden eyes.
Chapter 5
In the narrow alley, Scarlett’s cheeks reddened, matching her name, and she holstered her gun out of sight. Shadows from Guildhall’s gothic spires crept over the ivory stone, and sunlight lit up her hair like flames. “You did not just take me to an Unseelie bar.”
“I was trying to—”
She held up a hand to silence me, then yanked out her phone, pressing it to her ear. “Fulton? Hey, it’s Scarlett. Listen, I have identified a location—”
Oh, hell no. I yanked the phone from her hand, and hung up the phone, shoving it into my cleavage.
Her features were etched with fury, and for a moment, I wondered if she was about to pull her gun on me. “What the fuck, Cassandra?”
I flinched. Scarlett never called me by my full name. “Listen, Scarlett, you’re shooting from the hip. You have absolutely no idea what’s going on.”
“I have no idea what’s going on?” She pointed a shaking finger at me. “You’re completely naïve if you think you can be friends with the fae. Cass, if it were anyone else, I’d have brought you in by now, you know that, right?”
I took a deep breath. “I do, but it isn’t anyone else. It’s me, okay? You know me well enough to trust my judgment, right? I’m not an idiot.”
“Of course you’re not an idiot. That doesn’t mean your judgment is always sound. Remember on Saint Patrick’s day, when you tried to make out with the guy dressed as a leprechaun on the subway—”
“Okay! I’m not asking you to trust my judgement about mixing drinks. I’m asking you to trust me about this. At least until you get it straight.” I crossed my arms. “You have some prejudiced, closed-minded attitudes. Just give me a few minutes to explain.”
I had to tell her. I had to explain that I was part fae, and I just had to trust that she knew me well enough to understand I wasn’t a threat.
Scarlett took a step closer, still pointing at me. “If the fae escape to tear loose in London—”
“Give me twenty minutes.”
“Ten!”
“Okay!” I pulled her phone from my cleavage, handing it back to her. “But first, message that Fulton dude and tell him you made a mistake. Your guys are probably launching choppers to find you right now.”
She glared at me for a minute, and I knew she resented having to admit a mistake. Scarlett was a relentless perfectionist. Still, she took the phone from me, muttering as she hammered out a text.
My mind raced as I tried to figure out what I should reveal, and what I needed to keep from her. Maybe it was a strange sense of protectiveness, but I didn’t want her to know that I’d kissed Roan. Scarlett already hated him, and I had a feeling she’d go after him, trying to keep me safe. Sure, Roan was dangerous, but he’d also saved my life and helped take down the Rix.
I just needed to tell her about the whole pixie thing, and then I’d have to watch her choose between her best friend and her deepest convictions and loyalty to the human race. Simple. She’d have to trust me.
A chilly breeze rippled over the bone-colored stone of Guildhall square, toying with my pink hair. My heart raced.
I couldn’t tell her about me just yet. It was too much at once. When Scarlett met my gaze again, I swallowed hard.
“Yes?” she said.
Might as well just launch into it. “Two things. The first is Roan. He helped with the investigation that led us to the Rix. He saved my life in there, in the church where we captured him. He’s on our side.” I took a deep breath. “I think.”
Her eyes gleamed with intensity. “And the other thing?”
“I’ve been to Trinovantum.”
She barely moved, only the wind ruffling strands of her auburn hair. “You what?” she breathed.
“I can’t tell you how I got there, just that I’ve been there. I don’t think all the Unseelie are united. There are power struggles and conflicts in there. We should use this. Make alliances and friends. Do you understand me?”
Scarlett grabbed my hand. “Where is the portal?”
“I’m not telling you that.”
She dropped her grip on me. “Because you think I’ll send a troop of CIA agents to infiltrate the city.”
“Yes.” That, and I can’t tell you about it without revealing that I’m fae. “And I think you need a fae to get you in. Like I said
, Roan helped me.”
Scarlett stared at me, searching my face. “There’s a lot you aren’t telling me.”
I folded my arms. “Okay. Specifics later. But you get the gist.”
“What does your FBI unit think about your little trip to Trinovantum? Surely you haven’t hidden the portal’s location from them.”
I clamped my hands on her shoulders, staring into her eyes. “There is no unit, Scarlett, it’s just me.”
Her jaw dropped. “Cass… you were serious? You just stumbled into this by chance?”
“I didn’t know anything about the fae when I first came to London. There is no FBI counter-fae unit. My debriefing with the overseas FBI office basically made no sense, because I had to leave out all the magic. They now think I’m lying to them. Which, in fact, I am.”
A line formed between Scarlett’s eyebrows. “You killed the Rix… by accident? Do you know our guys tried to assassinate him four times? Four fucking times, Cass. And you found him in a church with a knife and just killed him?”
I frowned. “You know, I’m a very good field agent. And like I said, I had help from Roan. Are you getting my point yet? About alliances? There could be fae willing to help us against the greater threats. People like Alvin are not our targets, and if you storm Leroy’s, or find the fae portal, you’ll just start a war. Fae against humans. Do you know what it would look like if the fae unleashed the full force of their terror on humans, Scarlett? They’d destroy us. You need to keep doing what you always do. Be covert. Be careful. Use them as double agents. For fuck’s sake, try to be subtle.”
Scarlett chewed her lower lip. “Okay. I’ll need to talk to my chief; these aren’t calls I can make on my own.” She stared into the slanted afternoon light, thinking about what I’d said. “You make a good case.”
I let out a breath, but it caught in my throat as shouts rang out from the main road, off the pedestrianized square. My pulse began to race.
“What the hell is that noise?” I began moving for the street, and Scarlett followed behind me.
As we moved closer to Gresham Street, the shouts grew louder.
“Sounds like a lot of angry people.” Scarlett reached for her gun, and I shot her a cautionary look. Londoners really weren’t used to seeing guns, especially carried by people in plainclothes.
As we turned the corner to Gresham Street, my heart skipped a beat. A small mob had formed just outside an old stone church with towering glass windows. Two men gripped improvised weapons—a piece of wood, and a strip of metal.
I pushed into the edge of the crowd, shouting, “What’s going on?”
A middle-aged woman pointed at the armed men. “These two gentlemen think those are the two lads from the papers. The bag men. I don’t think they are, but no one listens to me. Someone called the cops.”
Two young men stood flat against the wall, clearly terrified. Apart from their skin color and age, they looked nothing like the men in the papers. The mob’s excitement and fear whispered through my blood, filling me with power. Some of them were after blood. Others were scared of it, their bodies buzzing with panic.
“What makes you think it was us?” one of them shouted defiantly.
One of the vigilantes gripped his stick. “You just wait there until the police get here, and we’ll let them sort this out.”
Another man shouted from the crowd, “Just let them go. It’s not them.”
The second captive scowled. “This is bullshit, man. I’m not sticking around for this.” He started to walk away, but one of the thugs shoved him back into the wall. The man retaliated with a vicious right hook. In the next moment, fists—and sticks—were flying. Half the crowd seemed to be defending the so-called “bag men,” and the others were trying to attack them.
The terror ignited my power. Scarlett reached for her gun, but I gripped her arm. “No guns. When the cops arrive, they’re not going to know who you are, and they might attack you.”
“Fists, then,” she said.
“Fine.” You use fists, and I’ll use magic.
We pushed through to the center of the crowd. From the corner of my eye, I watched Scarlett deftly disarm one of them. An elbow slammed into my back, but the crowd’s fear sang in my blood, spurring me on. Shielding my head from the blows that rained around me, I looked up at the enormous church windows, feeling for a bond with their reflections. When it clicked into place, I envisioned fire raging in the hollows of my mind. Then I let the reflections erupt with flame. I created a raging inferno, the glass roaring with illusionary fire.
Then, I pointed to it. “Fire!” I shouted. “The church is going to explode!”
Screams erupted, and the crowd began to scatter. The two captives took off on foot, sprinting down Gresham street, and I took a deep breath.
In the dispersing crowd, I searched for Scarlett, but I couldn’t see her vibrant auburn hair anywhere. What the hell? She’d been right next to me, hadn’t she?
“Scarlett?” I shouted, crossing back toward Guildhall. The street was now completely empty. It wasn’t like Scarlett to abandon me in the middle of danger like that. She was the kind of friend who would drag you to safety first, then worry about herself.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket, frantically dialing her number. But her phone didn’t ring. Instead, the line simply went dead.
Chapter 6
It was another two hours by the time I got back to Gabriel’s house, and the summer sun had already set. On the walk, I could hardly think straight, my mind churning over the question of what had happened to Scarlett. I’d spent twenty minutes searching for her around Guildhall and on Gresham Street. The cops had arrived just after everyone had fled, and I gave them a description of Scarlett. They had not been even remotely interested. I called the CIA office to report what had happened—they’d been a little more interested, at least, and gave me a number I could call if I had any more information.
I continued to try Scarlett’s number, hearing only silence on the other end of the line. I didn’t think Scarlett would just leave me there without explaining, but she obviously knew how to look after herself. Maybe she had run off to chase down someone, and didn’t have time to give me all the details. And there was every chance the shitty reception was a result of yesterday’s attack, and an overload of the mobile network.
I climbed the stairs to Gabriel’s apartment, and slipped the key into the lock, clicking it open. This place was almost starting to feel like home.
“Cassandra?” Gabriel’s deep voice called from the living room.
“It’s me.” I followed his white-walled hall into his warmly lit living room. Gleaming wood floors, books stacked on oak shelves, a soft blanket neatly folded on the sofa: This place was a welcome refuge from the city’s chaos. Too bad I hadn’t been able to bring Scarlett with me.
Gabriel sat on one of the sofas, resting his elbows on his knees, his expression grim as he stared at the TV. The news station was playing a clip of yesterday’s attacks—a stone building, with flames roaring from its windows.
“Everything okay?” he asked. The sight of him soothed my raging mind. He wore a blue T-shirt, the color striking against his dark skin and muscled arms.
I plopped down onto the sofa. “Scarlett and I ran into a bit of a lynch mob. A couple of men with sticks believed they had found the ‘bag men.’ And in the chaos, I lost track of Scarlett.”
His brow furrowed. “Are you worried about her?”
“Kind of. I’ve also seen how she can fight and how she can run.”
His hazel eyes met mine, then he frowned at my dress. In the chaos of the street brawl, it had torn, and dirt smudged the black fabric. “You all right?”
“Yeah. I’m fine.” At this point, Gabriel knew more than anyone else about me. He knew that I was a pixie, and about Roan. He’d been there when I had killed the Rix. If there was anyone I could easily open up to, it was him.
The problem was, what I had learned today about the CIA was highly co
nfidential. Revealing their counter-fae unit to anyone was tantamount to treason.
I decided to follow a path I’d been relying on a lot lately: telling as much of the truth as I could, while cloaking the details I needed to hide.
“I think the fae are trying to create strife amongst the humans. If we tear ourselves apart with terror and anger, someone’s gonna feed off it.”
Gabriel held my gaze, and we let the unspoken thought hang in the air: just like I do.
He took a sip of his tea. “You said that fae feed on fear that’s nearby, right? Can they feed off fear that’s happening all over the city?”
“I don’t know. DCI Wood—the Rix—he was definitely trying to create chaos.”
A new face appeared on the TV screen—a white woman with gray hair, standing before flashing lights and a cluster of microphones. It took me a moment to recognize her as the mayor of London, Alice Jansen. Her tidy, gray bob framed her face. She wore a neat black suit and seemed composed in all the chaos.
Gabriel picked up the remote, turning up the volume to hear her speak.
“… attacking our homes and spreading fear. They seek to disrupt our life, to endanger what we hold dear, but I promise you this! This carnage is not something we will dismiss. We will find the people responsible for these… terrorist acts, and they’ll learn the full force of our impact. I urge the citizens, if you know of anyone who might consort… with those who harm us, do not hesitate to report! Immediately inform the—”
Gabriel flicked off the television. “Wonderful, Mayor Jansen. Now we’ll be swarmed with calls about every dark-skinned person in the city. She should be trying to calm things down and letting us do our jobs, but of course, this is wonderful for her career. She looks like she’s hard line, taking action against injustices.”
“People don’t want to be calmed. They want someone they can blame. Anger is the perfect antidote to fear.” I pulled out my phone, disappointed to find that Scarlett still hadn’t returned my call.
