by J. S. Malcom
“Hey, Scamper. Whatcha having?”
Scamper?
“Couple of meads,” Cade says. “Thanks, Torka.”
The bartender, Torka, grabs a couple of wine glasses and fills them from a tap behind the bar. I watch as a golden liquid spills out.
“Why does everyone keep calling you Scamper?”
“Term of endearment,” Cade says.
“But what does it—”
Torka sets the glasses down before us. “Put them on your tab?”
Torka doesn’t seem put out by the idea. In fact, the feeling I get is that Cade is considered just as much a friend as a customer.
“You're a sweetheart,” Cade says. “Revlen out back?”
Torka lifts an eyebrow as she wipes a cloth across the bar. “I'll go ask if she wants you to know.”
Torka leaves and I taste the mead, not sure what to expect. It’s cold, crisp and just slightly fizzy. Tastes of honey and fruit dance on my tongue. Okay, Faerie might just rival Silvermist in the beverage competition.
Cade watches me. “Not bad, eh?”
“More like amazing.” I glance around again. “So, what’s the deal? I mean, no one seems freaked out by me being here.”
Cade sips his mead too. “They probably think you're one of us. Like I said, not all half-bloods have pointed ears. And Faerie isn't Silvermist. All kinds come here, or are brought here.”
‘Brought here’ pretty much says it all since, from what I've heard, the fae only bring humans into their realm to exploit them. But, okay, I don’t stand out like a freak in Faerie, or at least in the Unseelie part of it. Or, maybe the fae are just used to seeing freaks.
Torka comes back behind the bar, approaches us and nods toward the back of the room. “Revlen said it’s okay.”
Cade downs his mead, and I do the same. I get the feeling we won’t be coming back to the bar. Then we cross the room, Cade knocks on a door, and we step into a dimly lit space where six people sit at a table. There are four men and two women, who I guess to be in their late twenties or early thirties. Then again, they’re all fae, so I don’t have a frame of reference. For all I know, the fae might age differently. After all, some stories say they’re immortal. Then again, stories describe them in lots of ways. Pretty much everything from pretty winged girls in skimpy dresses to demonic horned men with glowing eyes. Or maybe I just haven't met those inhabitants of Faerie yet.
Whatever her actual age, one of the women is nearly impossible not to stare at, with pointed ears poking through honey-blonde hair, high cheekbones, full lips and one brilliantly golden eye. Her other eye is covered by a black eyepatch. It seems like that should be somehow off-putting, but it’s not. Instead, the eyepatch just lends an air of mystery to her drop-dead gorgeousness.
She speaks first, saying just, “Cade.”
With just that much, I know she’s all business. She exudes an air of authority, and it’s clear from the way those at the table defer to her that she commands their respect.
“I hope we’re not interrupting,” Cade says.
“Nothing that can’t wait a few minutes.” Revlen turns her golden eye on me and adds, “Who’s your friend?”
Since she’s looking at me already, I say, “I’m Cassie. In case you’re wondering, I’m not a half-blood. I’m a witch.”
Revlen appraises me again, a little too intently for my comfort. “Are you sure about that, Cassie?”
I shake my head, confused. “That I’m a witch? Yeah, I’m pretty darned—”
“Cassie’s why we came here,” Cade says. “I told her I’d help her find someone.”
“Find someone,” Revlen says, in her clipped manner.
It seems Revlen is a woman of few words, and the impression I get is that she’s in charge here. Of what, I have no idea, but I didn’t get the feeling that she owns the bar. More like she holds court in this room.
“One of the taken,” Cade says.
Revlen studies me again with her penetrating one-eyed gaze. “How did you know?”
The question catches me off guard, but it makes sense. “Right, I see where you’re coming from. I shouldn’t, should I? Only the fae and the half-bloods know, but for some reason no one has bothered to tell us.”
My own words have the effect of making my anger suddenly flare. Partly, because I haven’t had the realization until this moment. Ironically, my outburst is met with a few chuckles.
I narrow my eyes and regard the group as a whole. “What’s funny?”
Revlen holds up her hand, and smiles fade. “You’re right. It’s not funny,” she says. “But, if someone told your kind, would anyone believe us? And what would you do? It’s not like you can come here on your own. You need someone like—”
“She can,” Cade says. “Without using a rift.”
Now, the group openly stares. A few mouths drop open. “That’s not possible,” one of the men says.
“It’s possible,” I say. “I’ve done it several times.”
“It’s true,” Cade says. “I saw her.”
The room remains deadly silent, so I continue. “Which, I believe, brought me to the attention of a changeling posing as a mage. His name is Grayson, or at least that’s the name he went by. Ever heard of him?”
My pulse escalates with a hope I suspect to be futile. A moment later, my stomach sinks when everyone shakes their head, including Revlen.
Again, though, Revlen takes the lead. “Let me get this straight. You came over to Faerie, on your own, without using a rift.”
I hold her gaze and nod.
“What kind of a witch are you?”
“A veil witch.”
I wait for her to say she’s never heard of veil witches, but instead her eye widens for just a moment. She opens her mouth to speak, but hesitates before trying again. “This person you’re looking for. Who is it?”
I think of Julia first, of course. But I also think of Ellie. I owe it to her parents to try. “There are two,” I say. “That I know of. Here, I have pictures.”
I take my phone from my vest pocket and pull up the photo gallery. The first picture to come up is the one most recently taken, the one I took in Ellie’s bedroom last week. I approach Revlen, holding my phone out for her to see. My heart pounds as I wait, but I brace myself for the worst.
Revlen shakes her head.
I scroll through more images and find one of me with Julia, a selfie we took not long ago. I know it’s a long shot, but I still say a silent prayer as my heart beats even harder. Please, please, please.
Again, I brace myself for Revlen’s response.
“She came through the other day.”
It feels like all of time collapses into this one moment. I remain frozen, thinking I must have heard wrong. Then I take a deep breath. “Are you sure?”
Revlen holds her hand out for my phone. “May I?”
I hand it over and she turns it to the others at the table, so they too can see. “Five or six days ago,” Revlen says. “Am I correct?”
A few nod, and one of the men says, “Yes, I saw her too. There’s no doubt.”
I blink against the tears clouding my vision. “Where is she? Where can I find her?”
At this, gazes drop to the table. Even Revlen looks away. Then she turns to Cade. “Didn’t you tell her?”
Cade hesitates, not meeting my eye. A moment passes, and then he shakes his head.
I look from Revlen to Cade, and then back to Revlen. “What?”
“They parade them through town,” she says. “Making a point of coming through our streets first, as a reminder of who holds the power. The captives are bound by their wrists and tethered to horses. If they can’t remain on their feet...” Revlen’s words trail off and she looks away, her jaw set in anger.
I can’t help it now, as my tears start to fall.
Cade speaks softly beside me. “I’m sorry, Cassie. I just couldn’t bring myself to tell you.”
I nod and wipe my eyes. I understand. I
really do. Who wants to tell someone that a person they love was bound like an abused animal and dragged through the streets. I imagine Julia’s terrified eyes as she searched the watching crowd, as she pleaded with her captors. In that same instant, I recall Ellie’s desperation as she tried to escape. I remember the games those men played with her, all but the dark-haired one who made them stop.
“I’m going to kill them,” I say.
The rage boils up inside me and red light flashes behind my eyes. I fight against the pain in my head, willing myself not to drop to my knees as the floor beneath me starts to shake. The table rattles, the mugs upon it trembling and starting to slide, until one cracks and another bursts, spraying shards across the room. Suddenly, the pain spikes and I gasp for air. I force myself to calm down, my vision clearing as the red haze fades.
Everyone stares with shocked expressions. No one has to say it, because it’s clear that everyone is thinking the same thing, including me. What the hell just happened? Moments pass as glances are exchanged across the table.
“What did you just feel?” Revlen says.
I shake my head and take another breath. “Pain,” I say. “Something blocking my power.” What I don’t say is that it feels like, if I could just gain access, I’d have more power than ever before. I have no idea what it means, so I’m keeping that to myself for now. I don’t even know these people.
Revlen speaks softly, keeping her gaze fixed upon me. “Where your friend might be depends on many things. On whim, on need, on mood. She could be in any one of a thousand Seelie houses. I’m sorry, but I don’t want to lie to you. The truth is painful, but you have to know.”
I grit my teeth and stare back at her. “I’ll find her.”
Slowly, Revlen nods. “I wouldn’t doubt it.” She turns to Cade and says, “Ecubon will be here in the morning. We have a meeting to discuss”—she glances my way again— “ongoing issues. Come back then and maybe he can be of more help.”
“Thank you,” Cade says.
Revlen turns her attention to me again, even as she responds to Cade. “You’re welcome. I look forward to learning more.”
CHAPTER 18
It's much colder and lightly snowing when we head back outside and start walking again. At least, I think it's snow, since the temperature has dropped considerably. Which doesn't seem to make sense, given that it was fairly warm when we emerged from the sewer.
As if reading my mind, Cade says, “Strange, isn't it?” He holds his palm out to catch a spiraling snowflake.
“Is it actually snow?”
“Yeah, it's real this time. The weather usually shifts at this time of night. Well, just in this part of town, after the Seelie settle into their part of the city.” Cade glances to see if I caught his meaning.
I did. “You have to be kidding me.”
“Nope. The Seelie like to keep things warm, wherever they go, but they won't be coming through here again tonight. So, why waste the magic?”
I know what he means, but I still have to hear him say it. Just so I know I'm not crazy. “They actually control their weather using magic.”
“They sure do. That part about fae lore is true, by the way. That they live surrounded by sunshine, in a world full of lush plants and colorful flowers. All that good stuff. I guess the whole realm was once mild, at least most of the time. But the Seelie didn't like even a little winter, so they got rid of it. Kind of ironic, considering that the Winter Court won the war for magic. But you know how it goes. People always want what the other guy’s got.”
They didn’t like winter, huh? Talk about a backfire. I think about what Cade said before, that the realm is running out of magic. It doesn't seem quite possible but, damn, no wonder.
“So, who's Revlen and where are we going?”
Cade reaches out to catch another snowflake. “Thought you’d be curious, but how about I answer that in reverse order? As long as we stay in Unseelie territory, we should be fine, and there's a pretty nice inn about a mile from here. I was thinking we could stay there. Are you cool with that?”
Not really. It's been almost twenty-four hours since I vanished from the face of the earth. My mother and Autumn have to be worried about me, especially given my history. Still, I just say, “Sure. Let's go to the inn. Who's Revlen?”
“What does your gut tell you?”
“Seriously, you're gonna go all cryptic on me?”
The flickering glow of a gas lamp catches the amusement in Cade's eyes. “There's only so much I'm supposed to say.”
“Okay, I'll play,” I say. “If I had to guess—and, evidently, I do—I’d say she's in charge of something. And, given the situation here—as well as the air of secrecy I picked up on in that room—I’m thinking she’s the leader of some sort of cell. Most likely rebels.”
Cade doesn't try to correct me. The feeling I get is that it’s his way of saying I'm either right, or damned close.
So, I continue. “From what I've seen so far, it's not hard to guess what the Unseelie would want to rebel against. The question is how, if the Seelie hold all the magical cards.”
Cade glances over again, and the look in his eyes says that he's trying to tell me something.
Suddenly, I realize what that is. “Oh. You said the magic is running out.”
“Bingo.”
“And when enough of it’s gone…” I let my words trail off, partly because I know he'll catch my drift. Without magic, it comes down to strategy, physical strength and conviction. Pretty soon, the Seelie might have a serious situation on their hands. The other reason I don't finish my sentence is because I thought I heard something. Another moment proves me right, when a child calls out, “Pogo! Pogo, come here, boy!”
A young boy appears on the sidewalk ahead of us. He’s searching for something, presumably his lost pet. He calls out again as he keeps walking. “Pogo? Come here, boy!”
Suddenly, the kid spots us and heads in our direction. He looks to be maybe five or six, but I can't tell with the fae. Either way, he's cute as hell, with giant brown eyes and pointy ears poking through shaggy, thick hair. He looks like a freaking anime elf. He also looks like he's about to cry.
“I can't find Pogo,” he says, his bottom lip trembling. “Have you seen him?”
I crouch down before him. “Who's Pogo, sweetie? Is that your dog?”
He nods, reaching up to rub his wet eyes. “My puppy. My mom and dad just got him for me, and now I can't find him.”
“Cassie,” Cade says. “Maybe we should—”
I hold up my hand to shush him. “What's your name?”
“Yammi,” the boy says. “Can you help me?”
Oh my God, he's just too adorable. “Where did you last see Pogo?”
“Right there!” He points up the street and starts running, motioning for us to follow. “Come on!”
I start after the kid, and Cade catches up to me. “Cassie, hang on,”
“He’s just a kid,” I say. “We can at least try to help him.”
Yammi dodges into an alley yelling, “Pogo! Come on boy!”
We run into the alley, and get maybe ten feet when two men emerge from the shadows. Yammi keeps going, a small, dark form running away. He hoists himself up some vines and over a wall. Probably not the best sign.
Cade speaks softly at my shoulder. “That's what I was trying to tell you.”
It’s hard to make the men out clearly in the dark, but they're beefy and broad-shouldered. They also stink of body odor and booze. Gross. They loom closer, as two more step in behind us. Yep, Cade’s right. We’re screwed.
One of them speaks in a low growl. “Looks like we found a couple of mongrels.”
I think of Brevlane from before, and how he played that little game with Cade. Any hope of that being the case this time fades fast when another man speaks.
“That's them, for sure,” he says, “But we just need her.”
“Guys, let's talk about this,” Cade says. “I'm sure we can reach som
e—”
That's as far as he gets before I see a quick blur of motion from the corner of my eye, followed by a thud as one of them whacks Cade in the back of the head. Cade staggers forward, and another thump to the head drops him.
The first guy who spoke steps toward me. “Come on, sweety. How ‘bout a hug?”
I'm breathing fast, my heart pounding a mile a minute. Magic, I need magic now! I step back, remembering the amulet. I reach for it, but my hand is blocked as two arms squeeze around me from behind, one at my stomach and one at my throat. I'm pinned and struggling to breathe as I’m lifted off the ground, my feet pedaling the air. The men burst out laughing, but it barely registers as I fight to breathe.
Whoever got hold of me drops me to my feet and lets go of my throat. I stumble forward, dizzy and surrounded, reaching for the amulet again as I heave ragged breaths. That's when the first man steps forward and clamps his hand over my mouth. He's holding a cloth, laced with something that stings my eyes and burns my nose. I'm grabbed from behind again, my arms pinned. I try not to breathe, but I have no choice. The stinging burns its way down my throat. My vision blurs, my limbs go weak, and the man’s deep voice purrs beside my ear.
“Enjoy your new life,” he says, and then I fade out to the sound of them laughing.
CHAPTER 19
I groan, blink my eyes open, and look up at a ceiling I've never seen before. The room is tall, with gray roughly textured walls. One slit of a window, nearly at the ceiling, glows faintly with sunlight. The light is weak, so my guess is that it’s early morning, just barely past dawn. I look around again to be sure, but other than the thin mat between me and the stone floor, the room holds only one simple bench, fashioned from rough wood. A cell?
I try to sit up, but I’m groggy, weak and lightheaded. My first attempt fails, so I groan and muster the strength to try again. This time, I manage a sitting position and I press my back to the wall. I look down to see that I'm still dressed. And obviously I’m alone, so that much is good. My head throbs, presumably from whatever they drugged me with. My arms ache from being manhandled, and my throat is both sore and dry. It's not exactly a situation to be thankful for, but there's also a steel ring mounted to the wall behind me. Sure, it might be used for hanging towels, but my gut feeling is that it's used for binding wrists. I'm not bound, so that's another plus. It would appear I'm on a roll.
