Agent of the Fae (Dark Fae FBI Book 4)
Page 1
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Agent of the Fae
Alex Rivers
C.N. Crawford
Agent of the Fae
Book 4 of the Dark Fae FBI Series.
Copyright © 2017 by Alex Rivers and C.N. Crawford
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
For the members of our Facebook group, C.N. Crawford’s coven. It’s so much fun to hang out with you, and your support means the world!
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Acknowledgments
Also by C.N. Crawford
About
Chapter 1
A sharp, agonized scream pierced the air. It wound through the hallways for a few seconds before tapering off to a harrowing silence—a silence so heavy it seemed to press on my skin like wet dirt. I forced my clenched jaw to relax as I followed Roan’s long strides down the underground halls. His sword was slung over his shoulder, his muscles tense. It wasn’t easy to relax here.
In the outpost of the House of Sorrow, blood streaked the walls.
In a surprise onslaught against their ancient enemies, the Seelie had attacked, striking one of the Unseelie strongholds in the heart of London. The attackers had left a trail of carnage in their wake. Eleven dead, scores wounded—banshees and other fae from the house of Arawn.
We followed the crimson stains on the ivory walls, the streaks of gore and the red footprints on the marble floor.
Strangely, I couldn’t smell the blood. The iron content in human blood gives it a metallic scent, and I was used to smelling it when I saw blood. But no iron runs through fae veins, and their blood, like water, is scentless.
As we rounded a corner, we caught sight of a banshee lying in one of the corridors, blood pooling around her skeletal body. Another banshee hunched over her, trying to staunch the wound with rags. Roan didn’t even slow down; he just stepped past. I hesitated, wondering if I should help.
The two banshees stared at each other, dark eyes widening, skin paling to the color of bone. They opened their mouths and screamed, the sound coiling through my gut. I clamped my hands over my ears, blocking out the noise. I’d heard that scream before Gabriel died.
The wail of the banshee foretold death.
Even as she screamed, the banshee still desperately pressed her friend’s wound, trying to stop the inevitable. The wounded banshee clutched at the rags covering her chest, her screams fading, while her friend shrieked above her, tears running down her cheeks.
Then the wounded banshee’s head sagged, her eyes dimming, and the screams died out completely.
Covered in blood, the other turned to me, her dark eyes glistening. “Come to gloat, Mistress of Dread?”
I shook my head. I’d been to this place twice. The second time, I’d left my own trail of death. Maybe I’d killed this banshee’s family. Without thinking, my hand went to the stiletto knife at my belt, bracing for a sudden attack. The banshee turned away, hunching over her fallen friend with a sob.
I swallowed hard, then hurried on. Roan was waiting for me just ahead, watching me carefully with something like concern in his eyes.
When I’d broken into the outpost of House of Sorrow, I’d jumped here through reflections. A quick leap to get what I needed. Now, for the first time, I surveyed the structure, taking in its enormity through the winding halls. My feet left their own footprints in the blood, and the path of blood led us exactly where I’d expected—to a large, black door in an empty corridor. I’d drawn the map of this outpost myself. Beyond the door, the banshees had been hiding the London Stone.
The door stood ajar, and Roan glanced at me as he stepped inside, checking to make sure I was all right. I followed him into the dark, empty room. Ash littered the floor—the bodies and spider webs I’d incinerated on my last visit. In the far corner, a mound of rubble marked the remains of the London Stone.
The Seelie had destroyed the Stone, as I had known. I’d been bound to it, the connection ever-present. It was as though an invisible thread had linked me to the Stone, curling around my ribs, and I hadn’t realized it was there until it had snapped, and I could breathe easier.
For a moment, I’d been happy—until I’d realized what had happened. The Stone was gone, and with it, my dread powers. I could still feel something—the tug of a wellspring of terror somewhere nearby, like a faint whisper drawing me into the ancient parts of London. But it wasn’t the Stone.
I swallowed, moving closer to Roan. Tension hung in the air between us. We still had a lot to talk about, but wars waited for no one. This latest assault had erupted right after Roan had dropped his little bombshell about us being soulmates. Not entirely sure what that meant at this point, but apparently, we’d pledged eternal commitment to each other when we’d knocked boots in a London garden. Not that I’d known about the deal ahead of time.
Now, I had a billion questions. Did I get a say in this “eternal commitment?” And how long would I live? Fae live for hundreds, sometimes thousands of years. As a half-fae, did I get the same benefits? Or would I sag and stoop as Roan strutted around looking like a god?
I folded my arms, trying to focus on the more pressing concerns—namely, the fact that the Seelie had ripped my powers from me. “The Stone is completely destroyed. I can’t feel it anymore. At all. And I think my dread powers went with it.�
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Roan turned to face me, his green eyes glinting in the faint torchlight. “They knew exactly where to go. They knew how to find the hidden House of Sorrow, and the Stone within it. Someone helped them. An Unseelie fae.”
“What do you think the motivation for the attack was?”
“The High King’s powers of dread tipped the war in the Unseelie’s favor. I would guess that the Seelie wanted to make sure we didn’t have that advantage when the war resumed.”
“Would they worry about it, even with the king dead?”
“The Mistress of Dread lives, and the rumors of her powers are terrifying.”
A shiver ran up my spine. Was the entire Seelie army really targeting me?
“This is not the first time the Seelie have attacked us,” Roan continued. “There’s a bloody history between the Seelie and Unseelie. The Seelie believe we are impure. Their myths say that we are fae tainted by the blood of beasts and men. Some of them view us as diseased, and say our very presence can taint a pure Seelie. As you can imagine, this made the peace negotiations with them quite tense.”
“Roan Taranis.” Hatred laced the voice that echoed through the room.
When I turned, my heart skipped a beat. The man standing before me was unfamiliar—wavy black hair framing a beautiful face, his skin a tawny brown. He was finely dressed in a three-piece suit with a pocket watch. But it was his large, dark eyes that unnerved me. He had the same midnight eyes as the arachnid fae I’d killed in this very room—the interrogator. And given the way he was looking at me, I had to wonder if he knew what I’d done.
He took a step forward, his movements catlike. Apart from his eyes, only his curved canines hinted at his link to the interrogator.
“Ah. The pixie.” His dark eyes met mine.
“Judoc Arawn.” Roan’s tone was neutral, but I could see his fingers twitching. He was thinking of reaching for his sword. “What happened here?”
“Why ask questions when you already know the answers?” Judoc hissed. “The Seelie came for the Stone, killing anyone who stood in their path. They knew to come straight here—almost as if someone had told them where they should go.” He cocked his head. “One of your king-killing traitors, perhaps?” He glanced at me. “Regicide and patricide, all in one. Do you know the old fae penalty for killing your own father? We used to seal patricides up in oak trees, where you’d starve to death, repenting of your sins.”
Roan snarled. “Don’t be absurd, Judoc. You’ve known me for years, even though our houses were at war. Why would we tell the Seelie where to find the Stone? We were trying to negotiate peace.”
“Maybe I don’t know you as well as I thought, Taranis. Why would you do anything? Why did you kill King Ogmios? Why did your soldiers come here and burn my mother to death?”
I didn’t move a muscle. Okay, so he didn’t know that I’d incinerated the interrogator—his mom. I wisely decided to let Roan do the rest of the talking.
Roan stepped closer to him, staring down at him. “We aren’t your enemies.” A silence hung between them. “A greater threat faces us.”
Judoc narrowed his eyes. “Who do you suppose passed along this information? Which traitors told the Seelie about Grendel’s club? Who—”
“Grendel’s club?” Roan asked sharply. “What happened there?”
Judoc quirked his head. “You don’t know? The Seelie razed it to the ground. Half of Grendel’s men are dead.”
I frowned. “Why would they go after Grendel?”
“Grendel holds most of the Weala Broc treasury,” Judoc said. “And he announced he had inherited the Unseelie throne. He proclaimed himself the new High King of Trinovantum.”
Roan growled.
“Grendel?” I snorted. “What about the king’s son, Abellio?” Saying my half-brother’s name out loud made me want to vomit.
Judoc shook his head. “A bastard, never formally recognized. Grendel is the king’s uncle.”
My lip curled at the thought of Grendel. He was the king’s uncle? I was related to that monster?
Judoc went on. “Unfortunately for the old toad, he has made a lot of enemies. The army of Trinovantum no longer wants a High King. General Borvo explicitly stated he will take the orders of no king. They won’t allow Grendel to return to Trinovantum.”
Roan clenched his fists. “Did the Seelie attack anywhere else?
Judoc shrugged. “I’ve heard rumors that they’ve raided Balor’s armory, but I’ve no idea if it’s true.”
Roan inhaled sharply. “The armory? If that’s true… The London Stone, the treasury, and the armory. A surprise attack to cripple us.”
Judoc grimaced. “And now they have Grendel’s treasures, perhaps along with Balor’s magical weapons. The Unseelie are… screwed. Thanks to you.”
Roan bristled. “I had nothing to do with this attack—”
“We were winning the war, Taranis! Ogmios would have conquered Cleopolis and destroyed the Seelie army if you hadn’t overthrown him! And now look at what you have wrought.”
An uneasy feeling tingled over my skin. “If they’re hitting all the high-profile targets, they might not be done yet.”
Roan scrubbed a hand over his mouth. “You’re right.”
“Roan, we need to get back to your home,” I said. “Now.”
I could see in his eyes that the same urgent thought was playing in his mind. Elrine and some of the rebellion’s most powerful fae warriors were staying at Roan’s mansion with us. If the Seelie really were after high-profile Unseelie, they might attack there as well.
Chapter 2
Speeding along Crutched Friars, I clenched the steering wheel, knuckles whitening. A cloud of dark smoke billowed into the gray London sky, and fear thrummed around me—human fear, pulsing from passersby on the streets. Their panic fed my powers, heightening my senses. As we neared the corner, I had a bad feeling about the source of the smoke.
I turned the corner, then slammed on the brakes. The glamour had fallen from Roan’s mansion, and flames licked its brick walls, its steep peaks. At my side, Roan uttered oaths in a language I didn’t understand.
All around us, humans lay on the ground, their blood staining the pavement. The Seelie weren’t just slaughtering the fae.
Scarlett had told me once that a war between the Seelie and Unseelie would claim millions of human lives, and now I could see why. The Seelie hadn’t killed the humans because they needed to. They had killed them because the humans were in the way. For most of the fae, humans were no more than animals.
Bodies blocked the road, and among them, people crouched to help, crying and trying to staunch the bleeding. My heart slammed against my ribs as I switched off the engine and leaped out of the car, running toward the mansion, Roan a few steps ahead of me. As I flew past the terrified humans, their fear flooded my veins with a rush of power. Magic thrummed over my skin, and I felt my canines lengthen, piercing my lip. Claws sprouted from the tips of my fingers. As I ran, my gaze flicked to Roan. His golden antlers shimmered on his forehead, his sword in hand, his feet a blur.
Ignoring the screams around us, we hurtled toward the burning mansion. Roan’s front door hung on its hinge, half-smashed. Roan blasted through the doorway, splintering the rest of it. He disappeared into the smoke, his battle roar rumbling through my gut. I pulled out my stilettos, following the sound of his roar.
A haze of smoke filled the main hall, so thick I could barely see the opposite wall. I could just barely make out Roan’s broad shoulders, the glint of his blade. Already, he’d begun fighting another fae, and the clanging of their swords echoed off the walls, mingling with the sounds of battle from other parts of the mansion—snarls and screams, breaking glass.
Something moved to my right and I instinctively dove. A huge blade crashed into the floor behind me, where I had stood a fraction of a second before. I rolled and bounded to my feet, locking gazes with my attacker. My palms felt slippery with sweat on the hilts of my stilettos, and my breath ca
ught in my throat.
He stood over seven feet tall, his face beautiful and terrible—an unforgiving god, skin like pale marble, hair shimmering white. His muscles looked like they’d been chiseled from stone, and his frosty eyes bored into mine. Platinum armor covered his chest, leaving his powerful arms bare, and his ghostly hair seemed to snake around his head. My mind screamed at me to run.
He swung again, the blade whistling past my head. I dodged backwards, nearly tripping over a toppled chair. Stilettos. I had stupid, tiny knives against his broadsword. I had no reach, and with the speed of his sword, no way to get close enough to hurt him. He swung again and I ducked, the blade whooshing over my head.
I let my senses unfurl, feeling a reflection a few feet behind me. A candlestick? A small window? I didn’t care. My feet propelled me back as I merged with it, feeling my own body approaching it. My senses flickered over the other reflections around us, finding what I needed. Just then, I hit the reflection behind me, feeling its cool liquid surface meld over my skin.
I’d leaped through the reflection of his own armor, and I landed behind him.
He was already turning, his warrior’s instincts fast—but not fast enough. I swung the stiletto in my right hand, plunging it into the back of his bare neck. Warm blood spilled down the blade, staining my hand. I took a step back as he toppled forward, clutching at the knife’s hilt, pulling it free. A gurgle rose from his throat as he twisted on the floor, blood spraying from his neck.