Agent of the Fae (Dark Fae FBI Book 4)

by Alex Rivers

  A flicker of anger crossed his face. “They’ll get what’s coming to them.”

  I took a step forward, away from the mirror on the wall, feeling for the reassuring reflection on my bracelet. Always have a way out. “Yes. But only if we stand together.”

  “Stay where you are.” He lifted his hands, and in his voice, I heard a note of something I hadn’t expected. Fear?

  I took another step forward, a grin curling my lips. “Worried about something, Grendel?”

  He flinched. “Last time, you came here with iron.”

  “I’m not carrying any now.”

  “Forgive me if I don’t trust your word.” He glanced at one of his guards. “Search her.”

  The man hesitated and took a step forward.

  “If you touch me, you die screaming in terror.” I bared my teeth, then turned to Grendel. “None of your men lay a finger on me. Got it?”

  “Fine.” Grendel shrugged, and dragged the girl out of the booth by her hair, throwing her to the floor. “You. Search her.”

  The girl looked at me with teary eyes, her face full of terror. I nodded at her curtly. She rose and approached me warily before gingerly patting down my sweater, my jeans.

  “Search well,” Grendel hissed. “The dread mistress is quite a snake.”

  When the girl finished, I arched an eyebrow at Grendel. “I didn’t remember you as being so frightened.”

  “I’m not the only one.” He grinned. “I notice that you keep glancing at that nice mirror on your wrist. Can’t wait to leave?”

  Our eyes met for a moment, and then I casually stripped the bracelet from my wrist and tossed it at his feet. He picked it up, frowning. I smiled again, wondering if he knew how many ways out I had around us. The sequins in the girl’s dress. The dusty mirror behind me. His bodyguards’ shiny swords.

  I’d never let myself get trapped again. Always have a way out.

  As she stepped away from me, the girl’s eyes met mine. Her irises shifted colors—red, purple, green—all of them pleading silently for help.

  I turned away from her. As much as I wanted to help her, I’d come here to forge an alliance—not to free Grendel’s slaves.

  But I had to wonder if he was scared of me. Was he buying the ruse?

  I knew how to find out.

  Stepping closer to him, I summoned my dread powers, feeling them skim and ripple over my skin.

  Time slowed down. I could see gray tendrils of Grendel’s fear, slowly pulsing, curling from his body. I couldn’t touch them, couldn’t use them, but I could see them. I took another step closer, smiling darkly, and his fear grew darker, the tendril of terror thicker. He really was afraid of me, desperate not to show it. That knowledge alone bolstered my confidence. I was in control here.

  I closed the rest of the distance between us, clamping my hands on my hips as I stood before him. I bonded with three different reflections around the room. If anyone made a false move, I had my exits.

  The room was frozen, Grendel’s bodyguards’ fear mirroring their master’s.

  I stared at Grendel. “The Seelie attacked two days ago, and their horde is moving beyond Cingeto's Fortress. Trinovantum’s forces are leaderless, barely able to defend the realm.”

  “I have spies, fortal. Don’t tell me things I already know.”

  “The Seelie didn’t hit this club alone. They’ve ransacked and murdered Unseelie targets. They also tried to kill everyone in Taranis’ mansion. But they failed. Do you know why?”

  “Because the stink there was too much for them to stomach?” He tried to sneer, but his voice cracked.

  “Witty,” I said dryly. “No. Because I was there.”

  I let the silence stretch. I let him feel my confidence. I saw his men exchange wary glances.

  “Think big, Grendel. Right now you live in a…” I looked around and sniffed. “Smoldering hovel. You have no treasury, and only a fragment of Trinovantum’s army will follow your commands.”

  “I am the rightful king of Trinovantum,” he countered. “I’ve inherited the throne.” His bony fingers tightened into fists. “Do you really think I’d give that up?”

  I pointed in his slimy face. “You and I both know you’ll never be king of the Unseelie. General Borvo opposes you, and Trinovantum’s army supports a Republic. Just like Roan does, just like I do. You’ll be dead before you set foot near Trinovantum. The best you can hope for is to keep your tenuous grasp on the Court of Terror, with the support of the other Courts. You will rule together with the five other Courts. We’re going to bring back the Republic, bring back the old ways, whether you’re on our side or not. There will be no more king of the Unseelie.”

  He paled. “Absurd. I want my throne.”

  “When you help us crush the Seelie, the other Unseelie courts will support you as ruler of the Weala Broc. You’ll have your own palace—back in Cleopolis, the Unseelie ancestral home. I can help to make this happen.” I waited another moment, letting him picture it. “If you don’t join us, you can wait here and see who comes to kill you first. The Seelie, the Unseelie… Or the Mistress of Dread. Do you want to die impaled on a sword, or pissing yourself in a corner?”

  “Do you think your threats will convince me, mongrel? I am Grendel. I am older than your courts, older than the Seelie themselves. I was here before humans could talk, feeding off their unspoken fears, the monsters they couldn’t name. Fear is the most ancient and powerful emotion, and I’m as ancient as it is. And I’ll be here well after you all turn to dust.”

  It was time to offer him the real prize—the one Roan was willing to offer in order to secure this alliance. “Why stay here until the end of time? Why not take the Taranis mansion? Invade his home. Claim it for yourself. Make it your own.” I chose my words carefully. He wanted to invade me, but Roan’s house would have to serve as the closest proxy he was going to get.

  Grendel’s eyebrows shot up. “What?”

  “The mansion in French Ordinary Court could be renamed Grendel’s Mansion, if you like.” I felt sick offering it to him. It was Roan’s childhood home, a place that kept treasures of his past. It had also become the only place I felt safe. I thought of the little figurines I had found, and of little Roan, playing with his sister in the library.

  And here I was, offering it as a present to this sadistic toad. But when Grendel’s eyes flickered with interest, I knew Roan had chosen his bait well.

  It was just a house.

  Grendel licked his lips. “Taranis will give me his mansion? Will all of his nymphs come with it?”

  I frowned. “What? He doesn’t have nymphs. It’s just the house. He’s giving it to you only if you agree to secure this alliance. His goal is for the Unseelie to survive.”

  Grendel narrowed his eyes. “I doubt he would be so generous.”

  “Why would he need it?” I stood up. “If we defeat the Seelie, he will have his own palace in Cleopolis, in the crushed Seelie empire.”

  “I need more than a house,” Grendel croaked. “Land. A yearly tax from the gutter fae. A permit to—”

  I shook my head impatiently. “I am not here to negotiate with you. I am the Mistress of Dread, not a used car salesman.” I turned my back to him. “You have our offer. We’ll give you until sundown.”

  My job here was done. I could slide back through the reflection, back to Roan.

  But before I could turn back to the mirror, a flash of gold caught my attention. It was the girl’s eyes—the girl with bruises all over her body. Maybe I could save one of Grendel’s slaves while I was here.

  I crossed to the girl in the sequined dress, looking her over casually. Dark bruises marked her cheeks, her wrists. I grabbed her arm, and turned to Grendel. “I like her terror. I’m taking her with me.”

  He snarled. “She’s mine.”

  I shrugged. “Then maybe she’ll be waiting for you at your new home. And maybe you’ll give her to me, as a show of goodwill.”

  He spat, eyes burning with wrath. I
dragged the girl roughly towards the doorway, where three of Grendel’s largest men stood. As I drew closer, they parted, shuffling back, letting me through.

  Untouched, with power thrumming through my body, I crossed the threshold of the door and left.

  After we left the room, I shifted my hand on the girl’s arm, touching her back gently, and pointed ahead. We crossed through the burnt, damp halls, stepping over rubble and ash.

  “That way,” I said, my voice gruff and cold, for anyone who was listening. The rest of Grendel’s club was no better than his VIP lounge. Walls crumbling and covered in soot, fragments of blackened furniture, and the pervasive smell of smoke surrounding us. Weala Broc fae lingered in the rooms, sullenly hunched in scorched corners of the room, drinking from flasks.

  “Thanks,” the girl whispered.

  I said nothing as we walked over the debris. Grendel’s men would interpret anything I said as weakness. The Mistress of Dread had no weaknesses.

  “I thought he would kill me.” Her voice was trembling. “I thought—”

  “Quiet,” I said sharply as we crossed into the main dance hall. Guards stood at the front door. They eyed me warily, and I could tell they had been warned I’d be coming. For a moment, I thought they would block the way, or demand that I leave the girl behind. I tried to think of the best way to handle such a situation. But like the bodyguards in the VIP lounge, they just backed away. One of them opened the door, and sunlight streamed into the room. The girl and I simply walked through the door onto the cobbled street, where Roan waited for us, bathed in sunlight, his golden hair ablaze.

  “What happened?” Roan asked, crossing to us. “Who is this?”

  As soon as the door slammed behind us, I smiled at the girl as she blinked at the sunlight.

  “What is your name?” I asked her.

  “Idelisa of Weala Broc.” She looked at me, ignoring Roan. “And you are Cassandra of Weala Broc.” Her voice rang with respect.

  I cleared my throat uncomfortably. “Yeah. Idelisa, you were Grendel’s… slave?”

  “I was his.”

  “His wife?” I looked at her, confused.

  She shook her head. “His woman. Ever since Ogmios took over, the Weala Broc women all belong to someone.” She gazed at me, eyes wide. “All except you.”

  Roan cleared his throat. “And the alliance? What did Grendel say?”

  I nodded. “He’s open to it. I think he understands he’ll never be king of the Unseelie. He’s terrified of me, and he really wants your house.”

  Idelisa gripped my arm. “Are you going to take control of the Weala Broc court?”

  I raised my eyebrows. “What now?”

  “I heard people saying that you would. You’re Ogmios’ daughter. You should be his heir.”

  “I’m his bastard child,” I said, “And I helped kill him. Anyone loyal to him would oppose me.”

  “You’re a rightful heir. Abellio is missing, so you might be the only one. And if you don’t…” She hesitated.

  “Go on.”

  Her eyes glistened. “Grendel is even worse than Ogmios.”

  I stopped and looked at her. She lowered her eyes to the ground.

  “That would fracture the Weala Broc court,” I said softly.

  “In a time the Unseelie need to unite,” Roan added. “We don’t have enough men to defeat Grendel.”

  And I’m not the head of a fae court. I’m just Cassandra Liddell.

  I stared out at the street, at the residents of London walking about their business, oblivious to the war erupting around them. “I’m sorry, Idelisa. But Grendel is someone we’re going to have to get used to.”

  Chapter 12

  I stared into the dressing mirror in my room, tension tightening my body.

  I’d spent the afternoon giving Idelisa a tour of the mansion, and a bitter sort of sadness had grown within me. Soon, all this would be Grendel’s.

  Adding to my misery, Siofra’s existence was a thorn in my side. No, it was more like being in a dark room with a psychotic wasp that could sting me at any moment. She could leap out of this mirror right now, in fact, and stab me in the neck before I got the chance to scream.

  I needed to figure out where the damn wasp was hiding.

  “Come on, Siofra,” I whispered. “Come at me.”

  She did nothing of the sort, and my own reflection simply stared grimly back at me.

  Siofra had powerful reflection magic—much more powerful than mine—but it had its limits. In order to control my reflection as it attacked me, she had to be close by. How near, I wasn’t quite sure. Maybe two miles?

  I let my senses unfurl and searched for a reflection that showed me Siofra. Once, she’d been able to hide herself from me, but I was hoping she’d dropped her guard.

  Apparently not. I felt nothing, and my reflection didn’t shimmer, didn’t change.

  Well, maybe I just wasn’t close enough. I yanked open the top drawer of my dresser and snatched my mirrored bracelets. I was going hunting for Siofra.

  I pulled on my jacket as I crossed through Roan’s halls, imagining Siofra’s vindictive little face, and my hand plunging through a reflection to punch it. I needed to find some way to end this woman. Maybe a little modern technology could help me along.

  As I opened the door to Roan’s house, the air nipped at my skin through my leather jacket. I slipped out from the glamoured mansion into the shadows of French Ordinary Court. If I could catch her unawares, I might even learn a little bit about her strategy.

  Under the murky autumn sky, I walked briskly down Seething Lane. I shoved my hands into my pockets, my head tucked down.

  As I headed for the tube, I wondered if Siofra was watching me right now. Was she gazing through the surface of a building’s window? Through a puddle of rainwater? Was she sitting right now in some room, her eyes glued to a mirror as I walked across its reflection, a frown on my face?

  Maybe I was acting like a paranoid person, but you’re not paranoid if they’re actually following you.

  I walked down the stairs of Tower Hill station, my body laden with mirrors. I was going to look for Siofra, but I had to be close enough to her to establish a connection. London’s underground was going to provide the transportation.

  Tower Hill was jam-packed, even in the middle of the day. Men and women bustled through the brightly-lit station and crammed into the stairwells, intent on their own thoughts, their own purpose. It felt a bit glorious for a terror leech like me. Every man who rushed past me, anxious about being late for a meeting, gave me a tasty jolt of power. A woman whose toddler tripped and fell on the stairs made me pause for a second, greedily drinking in her sudden fright. My body was still aching for magic after the Seelie attack two days before, and I needed every bit I could soak up. If I found Siofra, I might find myself in dire need of power.

  After a long wait on the platform, soaking up the nerves and stress of everyone around me, I jumped on the Circle Line. I looked out the window at the dark walls of the underground, the automatic voice of the tube cautioning people to mind the gap.

  As the tube began to move, accelerating, I lazily stretched my arms in front of me, both bracelets in full view.

  I bonded with the reflections, and let my senses unfurl.

  The tube moved fast. I could constantly feel reflections appearing and disappearing all around me as we rushed through the tunnel. A hunter, searching for her prey.

  Next to me, a woman sat, reading a tabloid, her lips pressed tight as she shook her head in outrage at whatever bit of gossip she was devouring. A young man stood by, holding one of the metal poles of the car, earphones on his ears. His eyes flickered toward me, then away as our gazes met. Across from us, a young child was prattling at his father, who was tapping his phone, listening to nothing.

  And I was looking at mirrors, feeling for reflections, looking for my changeling sister.

  Each time we arrived at a stop, people shuffled on and off, none of them sparing me
more than a glance. I was just another passenger, on her way across London. If Siofra was watching, that’s what she would see as well. Did she wonder where I was going?

  How long would I ride the subway before Siofra realized what I was doing—that I wasn’t going anywhere, but was just scanning London’s reflections, looking for her?

  I glanced at the tube map, planning my route. The Circle Line would take me around the entire city in a loop. By that point, I would have searched most of central London, though I could take the Central Line to cut through the middle if I needed to. Or maybe she’d gone further out of the city, though somehow I couldn’t imagine it. Everyone from the fae realms seemed drawn to the oldest parts of the city. And she’d want to be close to me. Close enough to watch me, close enough to attack again. And perhaps she would be careless.

  The automatic female voice intoned, “Approaching Barbican. Passengers…”

  I wasn’t listening; I was staring into my mirrored bracelet. There—a reflection moving closer to me.

  My left bracelet flickered, and I saw her face. Thin. Eyes sunken, a mad glint in them. She was sitting in a room somewhere, by a small table. Another figure sat by her side. My jaw clenched as he leaned forward, his mouth moving, and I glimpsed the repellent face of my half-brother, Abellio.

  She was holding a small mirror. And in that mirror, I saw a woman with pink hair sitting in a moving tube, looking at her left wrist.

  You’re not paranoid if they’re actually following you.

  Just barely, I could see Siofra in the bracelet in Siofra’s mirror. A reflection within a reflection within a reflection; Cassandra and Siofra, the changeling twins, endlessly watching each other.

  A third figure brushed past their table, and my breath hitched. He was tall and broad, with pale hair that cascaded over his shoulders, glowing like an angel.

  A Seelie fae.

  My mouth went dry.

  Abellio and Siofra were working with the Seelie.

  Did the sudden shock on my face draw her attention? She glared at me, her jaw slackening as she realized what I was doing, that I was watching her too.