Agent of Chaos (Dark Fae FBI Book 2)

by Alex Rivers

  He missed, or maybe he didn’t really mean to hit her, and the doll landed by her side. She wiped her tears off on the back of her hand, smeared the mucus from her nose with her tiny fingers, and picked it up.

  All around the hall, the mirrors shimmered with different memories. Siofra going to sleep, curled up and clutching the wooden doll. Siofra in a garden, whispering in the doll’s ear. Siofra pretending to spoon-feed her doll. Siofra crying in the corner of her room, hugging her doll hard.

  And in the corner of the hall, a mirror reflected a memory that snagged my attention. The Rix, towering over her by a blazing hearth, shouting. A young Siofra, maybe seven years old, still clutching that wooden doll. The Rix snatched it from her hands and tossed it into the burning fireplace. Siofra ran for the fireplace, trying to grab for it in the flames, screaming as her hands burned. She couldn’t get the doll. It was too late, and she fell back onto the stone floor, sobbing.

  My heart tightened, ached for the little girl. I know what she’d become. And this was why. Tears streamed down Siofra’s cheeks, and mine too.

  But if I wanted to survive this, I had to be ruthless. I had to be a monster, just for now.

  I felt for the reflections around me, no longer blocked. Siofra’s attention was too intent on the knife, too subsumed by her own memories. Closing my eyes, I forced the mirrors to all display the same memory.

  The Rix shouting, snatching the doll, tossing it into the fire. Siofra, reaching for her beloved toy the one thing she cared for, not able to save it. Fingers burning. Battling between love and self-preservation. All around the hall, the mirrors replayed her memory. Her failure. Her torment.

  “What did he give you, Siofra?” I asked, wiping a tear from my cheek. “A doll? You mean the one he threw at you? The one he burned? Did he really even like you? Did he ever show you a single moment of genuine warmth?”

  “Shut up!” she shrieked. “He… he did love me! He was very strict, but he… he…”

  The memories poured over the mirrors.

  The Rix turning his back in the midst of Siofra talking. The Rix, slamming the door to his study as she was approaching it. The Rix leaving his castle, while Siofra watched him leave from her window.

  In every memory, he turned away from her, left her behind.

  She was sobbing now, still looking at the knife, muttering. “He did love me. He did.”

  The images flickered again, showing the Rix smiling at a young woman, ignoring Siofra. Crumpling up a drawing she’d made, his lip curled in a sneer. More memories, dozens of Siofra sitting alone, in large, empty castle rooms, eyes increasingly hollow, the life slowly dimming from them.

  A flicker caught my attention outside the windows, and I turned my gaze, the breath leaving my lungs. Her memories were flickering outside, dancing in puddles, shimmering over the Thames. Across the river, I could see glimmers of color, dancing over the buildings’ windowpanes

  How many mirrors and windows displayed Siofra’s memories out there?

  Siofra held the knife to her cheek. “Say something,” she whispered. “Talk to me.”

  Outside, the visions were disappearing from the windows and river, shimmering away, one by one. Siofra’s magic was draining, the effort of manipulating so many reflections taxing even her.

  One of the Little Cassandras holding me disappeared into thin air, while the other’s grip wavered. Outside, the river reflected only the sky, and the mirror in the hall shimmered returned to normal in the street. And all around the hall, the mirrors began to reflect the world, and not Siofra’s mind.

  The icy fingers gripping me dissipated, and only one mirror still displayed a memory. The Rix, sneering at something Siofra was saying. And then it shimmered away, and showed only her. Burnt out. Her own magic was completely spent.

  The images of her life had sickened me, and grief welled in my chest. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

  She raised her glistening eyes. “You stole my life! Of course you did. Took my place after you were born twisted. A monster.”

  Slowly, I shook my head. “Monsters aren’t born, Siofra. They’re created.”

  As quickly as I could, I bonded with the half-dome reflection, feeling it click with my mind. Siofra charged at me, and I moved aside, grabbing her arm. I threw my weight onto her, using her own momentum to fling her at one of the mirrors. Along with her, I plunged through, feeling the reflection slide over my skin, ice cold.

  For a fraction of a second, we lingered in the world between reflections, everything sluggish, my own powers still drained.

  I let go of Siofra’s hand and moved through the other mirror, slipping out through City Hall’s reflective windows, leaving her behind.

  As I slid through the chilling reflection, I turned my head to look back, and saw her. Frozen between reflections, her power drained, unable to push through. Her eyes were wide open, terrified, and my throat tightened.

  The mirror shimmered, and she disappeared from view. I’d survived—I’d stopped the monster. And yet, at the thought of her trapped there, like an insect in a drop of amber, a hollow had opened in the pit of my stomach.

  I glanced at the two joggers—the couple who’d been trapped by the dancing plague. They lay, on the ground, moaning, catching their breath, rubbing their muscles.

  Siofra was gone, and the plague was over.

  Chapter 33

  I paused outside Gabriel’s flat near Brick Lane, staring at the bright blue door by the gardening shop. I’d lived just upstairs in his home for over a week, walking freely in and out. But I couldn’t just stride in now, even if I still had a key. After a moment’s hesitation, I pushed his buzzer.

  The intercom crackled to life. “Hello?”

  Gabriel’s voice was cut off by a squawking behind him. “My nipples are pulsing with delight! Squawk!”

  I bit down on the urge to laugh, and said. “It’s Cassandra.”

  “One minute.”

  I heard the stairs creak on the other side of the door as Gabriel descended—along with high-pitched squawks. A few moments later, a flustered Gabriel opened the door.

  From Gabriel’s shoulder, Odin fluttered his wings. “Betraying wetness! Nevermore.”

  I quirked an eyebrow. “Is it a bad time? Seems like you have company.”

  He frowned at me. “It’s all your fault. The Ravenmaster at the Tower refused to take him back.”

  “Sorry.”

  “He was also under the impression that he was acting at the will of a divine Goddess of Dread. Do you know anything about that?”

  I blinked innocently. “Sounds like a nut job.”

  “Is that your official diagnosis?”

  “Absolutely. My professional opinion.”

  “The spooks stopped asking about you. How’d you manage that?” The late afternoon light washed his skin in gold, glinting off his hazel eyes.

  “Scarlett convinced them I was working for her as a fae informant. A spy from the dark side. They took my clearance away, though, of course.”

  “I see. And to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit? I wasn’t expecting to see you.”

  I shrugged. “I just came to say thanks. And goodbye.”

  He frowned, taking a deep breath. “You’re going back to the states?”

  “Not exactly.” He’d flip if I told him I was going to Trinovantum to honor my promise to Roan. “But I’ll be gone for a while, I think.”

  “I see. Well, check in with me again soon, let me know you’re all right. You’re a magnet for chaos, you know that? I don’t want to have to worry about you.”

  I blinked away the tears of gratitude. “Sure. Thanks.”

  “The attacks stopped, completely. And the deputy mayor is really doing a good job so far. But if I had to guess, you probably knew all that.”

  “I had a hunch.”

  “You wouldn’t happen to know where the actual mayor is?”

  “Are you asking as DCI Stewart, or just as Gabriel?”

  H
e stared at me. “Which of them would get a straight answer?”

  I quirked a smile. “The mayor was colluding with the fae, Gabriel. She was behind the attacks. I’ve dealt with her.”

  His eyes widened. “You killed her?”

  “No. But she can’t hurt anyone else.”

  “Colluding… was she human?”

  “Yes, but she could use magic. It’s complicated.”

  “Right.” He sighed. “Everything is.”

  The sad glint in his eyes killed me. I took a step closer and wrapped my arms around him, hugging him tightly. “Thanks for being so amazing,” I whispered.

  He wrapped his arms around me, and I breathed in his clean, soapy scent. From his shoulder, Odin puffed his wings, and Gabriel pulled away from the hug.

  I nodded. “Right. So… I’ll be in touch.”

  “Wait.” He hurried after me, pulling Odin from his shoulder. “Take him. He’s yours.”

  “I can’t take care of a bird.”

  He smiled. “I guess you shouldn’t have broken into the Tower of London and stolen him, then.”

  Sighing, I gently pulled the raven from his hand. Odin flapped his clipped wings angrily and I let go. He jumped up, settling on my shoulder.

  Gabriel looked at the bird with regret, his brow furrowed. “Well, if you really can’t take care of him—”

  “Thrust your manhood into me! Squawk! Nevermore!”

  Gabriel shook his head. “Nope. Get him out of my sight.”

  I grinned and turned away, as Odin squawked sweet nothings into my ear.

  * * *

  My second stop was the hospital, and I walked through the white-walled trauma ward on my way to find Scarlett. When I’d arrived downstairs at the hospital, I’d been relieved to find that no one else danced outside the hospital entrance. Even so, the raven on my shoulder had posed an instant problem. I’d had to leave him with an old man in a wheelchair who sat outside, smoking, muttering about turnips. Fifty pounds to look after the raven, and another fifty when I returned. This damned raven was already more expensive than I’d anticipated.

  When I reached the room labeled 324, I crossed through the door. Scarlett lay on a bed in a room divided by a blue curtain, her auburn hair spread out over the pillow, her face wan.

  “Hey, you,” she said, her words slurring a bit. “Nice of you to drop by.”

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  “I’m super.” She gave me a thumbs-up. “They’re pumping me full of painkillers. It’s the best. Right, Jeeves?”

  A London-accented voice from the other side of the curtain called out, “My name’s not Jeeves.”

  I leaned over, hugging her as gently as I could. Then, I pulled out a small bottle of Glenlivet from my handbag, leaving it on the table next to her. “For when you’re feeling better. Don’t mix it with the pain meds.”

  “You bring the best get-well presents,” she said.

  I smiled. Then I mouthed, are we listened to?

  She shrugged, wincing in pain as she did. “Probably.”

  I glanced around the room. The CIA didn’t even have to hide a bug here. They could be tapping Scarlett’s phone. I definitely didn’t trust them enough to speak candidly about anything. “Well… you’ll never guess who I ran into. Remember that girl from our college, who looked just like my mother?”

  “Oh, yeah, you met her here? How is she doing?”

  “Not so hot, really. Got fired from her job, and is currently kind of stuck. In limbo, you know?”

  Scarlett smiled. “Never liked her anyway. And Elrine?”

  “She’s fine.”

  “Oh, good. I was worried about her. She seemed so fragile.”

  “Stronger than you’d think. So, what’s next for you?”

  “I’ll be staying here for a week or two, I think. There have been some interesting developments.”

  I raised my eyebrow. “Anything you can tell me about?”

  She shook her head. “Sorry. Highly confidential. And you don’t have clearance anymore. Fulton is completely against working with you. You really managed to piss him off.”

  I huffed a laugh at the thought of Fulton pissing in the chief’s plant.

  “What?” Scarlett asked.

  “Oh, nothing. I’ll tell you some other time.” I heaved a sigh. “Look, Scarlett, I’m going for a while. But I’ll be in contact, okay?”

  “Sure, Cass. Do what you gotta do.”

  “Love you.”

  “Love you. And be careful.” She mouthed something, but I couldn’t quite make out what she was saying.

  I frowned, leaning closer. With her eyes locked on mine, she mouthed it again, her lips moving slowly. It took me a moment to take in what she was saying to me, and I when I did, a shiver inched up my spine.

  A war is coming.

  * * *

  I faltered in the snowy forest, clinging tightly to my damp jacket, my fingers numb. I’d come prepared for my trip to Trinovantum, but I’d still ended up soaked and freezing. It had taken two days to find Roan’s cabin in Trinovantum, and I could now see it between the oaks, candlelight flickering through the round windows.

  Two days, and fatigue sapped my body, cut me to the bone. I’d needed to move at night, to slip out of the city walls, circumventing the populated areas. If I hadn’t, my pixie aura would have brought fae mobbing me like a swarm of locusts.

  Even as I’d moved through the Hawkwood Forest, I’d needed to escape inquisitive fae twice by leaping into the reflections in my dwindling supply of hand mirrors. As a result, my wool winter coat was now frigid and damp from the icy ponds I’d crawled out of. And as I’d moved deeper into the Hawkwood Forest, icicles had formed around my collar, my breath misting in clouds around my face. My teeth chattered uncontrollably. Even through the snow, hemlock grew wildly from the forest floor, the white blossoms beautiful, delicate, and poisonous. They sent a shiver up my spine.

  But I was almost there, almost to the delicious promise of warmth. Candlelight dancing in the windows. A hint of smoke coming from the chimney. God, I just wanted to peel off my icy clothes and warm myself on the hearth. I just had no idea what Roan was going to say when I got there, and I could only pray he wasn’t going to turn me out again into the frozen forest.

  I crossed to the door, my body shivering, and knocked twice, pressing my ear to it to listen for sounds of movement.

  Nothing.

  I knocked again, hugging myself tightly, and listened.

  Nothing.

  My fingertips had turned red, with white circles around the tips. The first signs of frostbite. I couldn’t stay out here a moment longer.

  I pushed through the door, finding the hall empty—just the tree growing in the center of the room, its boughs arched around the walls, twinkling with lights.

  Embers in the fireplace glowed orange. I threw my backpack on the floor, and pulled off my coat, laying it on the hearth. A soft blanket lay on Roan’s sofa—that would do. I’d come prepared with changes of clothes, but of course, they’d come through the water with me, too. I was too cold and exhausted to care about modesty at this point, anyway. I pulled off my boots, then slipped out of my icy, damp black shirt and jeans, hanging them on hooks just over the fireplace. When I continued to shiver, I stripped off my bra and panties and hung them up, too, then quickly pulled the blanket around me, teeth chattering. The soft, green blanket felt amazing against my skin. With the blanket around my shoulders, I managed to get the fire going again, using some pieces of paper by the fireplace to ignite the flames again from the embers. When it roared to life again, I sat in front of it for a few minutes, letting my body thaw.

  Before leaving to find Roan, I’d entrusted Odin to a bird sanctuary just outside London, and I couldn’t help but wonder how he was faring, or how many people he was shocking with his filthy romance quotes. I kind of missed the bastard and wanted to get him back as soon as I was done here.

  As I stared into the fire, my stomach rumbled. When w
as the last time I’d eaten? All the cereal in my bag had become completely waterlogged and inedible.

  Clutching the blanket around me, I crossed to the pantry through a set of leafy, arched boughs.

  When I pushed through the door into the pantry, I found a basket with six eggs, a large slab of meat, some dried mushrooms, and a glass jar of flour. I took the supplies inside a metal kettle to the main room. My gaze landed on the eggs, and I stared, an idea percolating in the back of my mind.

  Over the past few days, I’d had time to think. I’d gotten used to the idea that my father, whom I had loathed for years, was innocent. On the two-day journey, I’d spent half the time crying for him, and for my mother, their lives cut short in the most brutal way. I’d also had time to think about the fact that my parents’ killer was a girl who had been taken from her home and abused until she’d grown into a monster. I wasn’t sure if she might have died there, trapped in the mirror world, but if she lived, she was now trapped in Hell.

  But I still struggled with the idea that the Liddells weren’t my biological parents. Why did it matter? I didn’t know. What mattered was who raised you, not who spawned you. Surely Siofra and I were proof of that. I was born a terror leech, and the parents who’d raised me had taught me to love. Siofra was born human, but had twisted into a monster over time.

  And yet, I had to know for sure. Despite everything I told myself, the idea of being the Rix’s biological daughter sickened me. And now, I had no idea who my biological mother was—but what if Siofra had gotten it wrong?

  As I stared at the eggs, I formed a plan. Maybe there was a chance…

  I dropped the blanket for this.

  I cracked an egg into a bowl, and put water in the metal kettle. I filled the two eggshell halves with some water, flour and a piece of meat in each. Then, I placed them in the water. One sunk immediately, but the other one floated daintily on the water’s surface.

  Before crossing back into the main room, I pulled the blanket around me, and grabbed the kettle. Careful not to disrupt my broth, I hung the kettle from a hook in the top of the fireplace, wrapped myself back in the blanket, and waited for my stew to boil.