Agent of the Fae (Dark Fae FBI Book 4)

by Alex Rivers

  A lump rose in my throat. “You have your responsibility to the Taranis family. You’re the only one left.”

  In the silence, he lazily traced circles over my hipbone. “There is another,” he finally said.

  Shock washed over me. “What… Alvin?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you think he’d be…”

  “He is my cousin. My relative.”

  I waited for Roan to say distant relative, but he didn’t.

  “You think he could function in politics? He’s just a kid.”

  “He is not as young as he looks,” Roan said. “He’s older than you are. And very capable. In matters of politics, he’s likely more capable than I am.”

  At one point in time, Roan had resolved to kill every noble member of the Weala Broc. After all, they’d slaughtered his whole family, and he hadn’t forgotten it. I stared at him. “So you want to become Roan of the Weala Broc. The name that, until recently, you could hardly even say.”

  For a moment, pain flashed in his eyes. Then, he simply said, “I want to be with you. I’ll do whatever I need to.”

  I sucked in a deep breath. “About that.”

  He arched an eyebrow, muscles tensing slightly.

  “You’ll be able to hear my thoughts at some point, right? The longer we spend around each other, the more you’ll be able to see into my mind.”

  “Yes.”

  “There are things I know about humans that…” I struggled to phrase this. “If we’re going to be together, I need you to promise you won’t launch a preemptive strike against the humans. A proper, blood-oath, fae promise.”

  His muscles relaxed again. “Of course I won’t. I promise. Why are you even asking this?”

  I cupped his face in my hand. Now that I had his word, he could know the truth. “Well, it’s just that they’re not as weak as you might think. They have weapons capable of destroying the entire fae race if they wanted.”

  His eyes shifted to a pale gold, and a frosty air descended in the room. “Tell me.”

  “The CIA had a full armory with guns firing iron bullets. They’re working on other weapons that could protect them from you. Their nuclear bombs don’t just kill humans either. If they figure out a way to get one to Trinovantum…” I didn’t finish my sentence. My heart was in my throat.

  His ears lengthened into points, horns gleaming on his head.

  “Roan, you can’t kill them all, and if you’re going to be with me, you can’t even try. You need to trust me to tell you when to worry about humans, and when to leave them alone.”

  Slowly, his eyes shifted back to green. “We can’t let the others know.”

  “It’s our secret, Roan of Weala Broc.”

  Chapter 40

  In the churchyard outside St. Bartholomew’s, a sparrow chirped from the trees over the ancient cemetery.

  Roan had proposed that we hold our ceremony in Trinovantum, but I’d felt a desperate tug back to the human realm. Why had I chosen St. Bartholomew’s? It was a beautiful, medieval church, of course, woven with a thousand years of mystery. On the other hand, it was the place where I’d slaughtered the Rix. Maybe that wasn’t the most romantic of notions for a white wedding, but I was Cassandra Weala Broc, the Mistress of Dread, and I liked a little death and terror intertwined with my love.

  You’d also think that—as Mistress of Dread, a woman who’d helped to defeat the Seelie and the king—a little love ceremony wouldn’t scare me.

  You’d be wrong.

  Outside the church doors, my heart slammed against my ribs, and a cold sweat slicked my palms. I clasped my hands together, trying to stop the trembling. Unless you were from the Court of Mirth, fae didn’t carry bouquets, so I had nothing to do with my hands. Butterflies fluttered around my stomach, and I tried to tell myself it was all just a formality.

  I wished desperately that Gabriel were here. In fact, when I glanced back at the old Tudor gate at the other end of the churchyard, my mind flashed with a powerful memory of him. We’d stood huddled just there on a stakeout, watching out for the Rix. I’d been cold, and Gabriel had given me his jacket—a true gentleman—and he’d told me all about the history of the neighborhood. I could almost feel his presence now, could almost see his calm, hazel eyes.

  Maybe that’s why I’d chosen this particular location, after all. I’d wanted to feel Gabriel here.

  I raised my mirror bracelet, checking myself out for the millionth time. It was weird, but I felt like I could actually smell Gabriel, the scent of his coat—leather and apples.

  I shook off the notion, but as I looked at myself, something fluttered in the reflection behind me. I whirled, my heart beating hard. But as I searched the skies, I saw nothing. Wishful thinking, maybe.

  Slowing my breathing, I returned to studying myself in the reflection. I’d carefully chosen my outfit to represent the Taranis family. Idelisa had helped me reconstruct the styles of dress from the Court of Lust before Ogmios had destroyed them. I wore a shimmering, moss green gown with two enormous slits up the thighs and a plunging neckline. The fabric was sheer, threaded with gold flecks, and Idelisa had dusted gold over my skin. My hair had been piled on my head, threaded with verdant ferns. Maybe Roan was joining the Weala Broc, but our court would draw on some of his traditions, too.

  A horn sounded from inside the church, and I knew it was time.

  The church doors swung open, and it suddenly struck me that I’d failed to prepare any sort of speech. I had no idea what you said at a fae ceremony, and it’s not like we’d have a priest to guide the way. As I stood in the ancient doorway, the echoing murmurs in the church fell silent, hundreds of fae eyes on me. Roan seemed so far away from me, on the other side of the flagstones. He stood under the towering gothic arches of the church, dressed in a deep emerald and chestnut suit. Fae guests had crammed into the archways, and into the upper balconies to watch me—all eyes on me.

  I swallowed hard, nearly frozen with nerves. I had the power to dampen them, of course, to turn down the volume on my own fear, but I couldn’t quite remember how. The silence was deafening.

  As I lingered in the doorway, a familiar face approached, her ginger hair swept into an elegant updo. My oldest friend, my Scarlett, smiled at me encouragingly. “Cassandra,” she whispered. “Are you okay? I think you’re supposed to walk.”

  I tried to smile back, gratified that she had come. Relations between the fae and the CIA were far from friendly, but there was a sincere attempt to bridge that gap. Scarlett’s presence here was a symbolic gesture, though I was just relieved to have my friend with me. “Everyone is looking at me. I know they can feel my anxiety.”

  Concern shone in her eyes. “Are you sure you want to do this?” she mouthed.

  I looked at Roan again, at his perfect, golden face, body glowing with a faint amber light, and instantly I began to relax. No matter how much time I spent around him, he always looked like a god to me, even though I knew the true Roan. The Roan who’d tattooed three strawberry leaves over his chest to remember the time he’d spent with his mother and sister, who dreamed of the happy times they’d spent among the wild strawberries of the Hawkwood Forest. The Roan who’d make me spiced apple cider when I was sick, and the boy who’d treasured a little wooden figurine that reminded him of his mother. The Roan who’d spent five hundred years trying to rebuild his family name and plotting revenge, then willingly gave it up for me.

  As I stared straight at him, a pure, wild joy began to bubble in my chest. “I absolutely want to do this. I just need someone to walk me down the aisle.”

  Her forehead crinkled. “Are the fae going to allow that? Pretty sure they think I’m some kind of prey.”

  “I’m the Mistress of Dread, and I say it’s fine.”

  “You scare me a little, you know that?” she whispered.

  “That’s the idea.”

  She linked arms with me, and we slowly began to walk down the aisle. As I walked, slowly, I caught Elrine’s eye. Leani
ng into Judoc, she smiled warmly at me.

  Branwen sat another row away, her clothing somber, the bruises mostly faded from her face. She managed to smile at me, her eyes glimmering. Alvin—Lord Taranis—sat rigidly by her side, dressed in a suit that Idelisa must have forced him to wear. I’d never seen him look more uncomfortable.

  On his shoulder, a black winged form fidgeted. “Squawk! We loved with a love that was more than love! Lick my nevermore!” Odin’s squawks echoed in the vast, somber space, and he seemed quite pleased with the results, hopping from one foot to the other.

  Alvin shot me an apologetic look. I smiled at them both.

  As I approached Roan, my focus fell completely on him, and the look on his face enraptured me. His eyes shone with pride, and a faint smile curled his lips. From our bond, a wave of love curled around me, and I didn’t even notice as Scarlett slipped away.

  I moved so close to Roan our bodies nearly touched, and I could feel the heat sparking from his body.

  Roan reached for the altar, picking up a golden cord from the stony surface. He stared into my eyes, unveiling as he did, and wrapped the cord around my waist. He pulled me closer, until my body pressed against his.

  “Cassandra of Weala Broc. I will love you until the gods breathe winds of death unto the earth, until our bodies turn to ash, and darkness envelops the stars.”

  I smiled, a shiver running up my spine. His vow sounded just right to me—the perfect mixture of love and terror.

  “Roan of Weala Broc, I will love you until the sun expands and incinerates the earth as it dies.” Okay, not quite as poetic, but it got the point across.

  He leaned down to kiss me, and I could feel our powers mingling like two rivers. We belonged together, love and dread.

  After all—what was more terrifying than love?

  Arm in arm, Roan and I walked back over the flagstones—the ancient graves beneath our feet. A cloud of joy wrapped itself around me, and the golden glow of Roan’s love. I hardly noticed the wedding guests on the way out, but as we stepped into the sunny churchyard, I caught a glimpse of a white owl soaring overhead.

  And once again, I breathed in the scent of leather and apples.

  We hope you enjoyed the Dark Fae FBI series. To find out about our next releases, please sign up here.

  If you want to read a free short story from Roan’s perspective of when he first met Cassandra, click the link cover above, or click here: http://dl.bookfunnel.com/ups64m3hn6.

  Yours,

  Alex and Christine

  —Alex Rivers and C.N. Crawford.

  Acknowledgments

  We’d like to thank Alex’s lovely wife Liora for her amazing notes and for telling us when things are really bad.

  Our cover designer, Clarissa did another fantastic job.

  And finally, we’d like to thank our wonderful editors, Elayne and Izzy.

  Also by C.N. Crawford

  Please check out all our fantasy releases here http://www.cncrawford.com/books/.

  About

  Alex Rivers is the co-author of the Dark Fae FBI Series. In the past, he's been a journalist, a game developer, and the CEO of the company Loadingames. He is married to a woman who diligently forces him to live his dream, and is the father of an angel, a pixie, and a gremlin. He has two voracious hounds that wag their tail quite menacingly at anyone who comes near his home.

  Alex has been imagining himself fighting demons and vampires since forever. Writing about it is even better, because he doesn’t get bitten, or tormented in hell, or even just muddy. In fact, he does it in his slippers.

  Alex also writes crime thrillers under the pen name Mike Omer.

  You can contact Alex by sending him an email to alex@strangerealm.com.

  C. N. Crawford is sometimes two people—a married couple named Christine and Nick. But for the Dark Fae FBI series, it’s just Christine. Christine grew up in New England and has a lifelong interest in local folklore—with a particular fondness for creepy old cemeteries. She is a psychologist who spent eight years in London obsessively learning about its history, and misses it every day.

  Please join us here to talk about books, fantasy, and writing updates! https://www.facebook.com/groups/cncrawford/

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  riverscrawford@strangerealm.com