by Chloe Neill
He nodded. “Agreed.” He held up a hand, then looked to the side at something we couldn’t see. And his eyes widened.
Petra’s face appeared beside Yuen’s, as if she’d moved to stand beside him. “We’ve got something weird in Grant Park. You’re closest.”
“Something weird?” Theo asked.
“A power surge. Vibrations, and they’re magical in nature. This isn’t weather or geology or underground construction someone forgot to tell the city about.”
I frowned. I didn’t know anything about magical vibrations, but guessed humans wouldn’t be able to feel them. “Who reported it?”
“River nymphs,” Petra said. “Two near Buckingham, communing with the water in the fountain.” Her voice was dry. “They felt it, reported it to a meter maid, who thought they were drunk bachelorettes.”
High heels, strong makeup, short dresses. That checked out.
“Where in Grant Park?” Theo asked.
“All of it,” she said. “The vibration’s got a good spread. But start near the fountain.”
“Copy that. I’ll take a look and report back.” He looked at me. “You up for another adventure?”
I was up for a bucket of wine and a chance to apologize to my father. Or a bucket of wine before I had a chance to apologize to my father. But since I was unlikely to get either right now, I figured I might as well do the city some good.
“Sure,” I said. “Let’s do it.” I’d just need to tell Lulu that I wouldn’t be home for dinner.
I’d seen television detectives attach lights to the top of unmarked cars so they could cruise through traffic to a crime scene. I hadn’t seen it in real life until tonight, when Theo whipped one out.
“What exactly are we going to do with whatever we find in Grant Park?” I asked, and checked the side mirror just in case Connor was following. I was a little disappointed he and Thelma weren’t behind us. We probably could have used them.
“We handle it, or we call in backup,” Theo said. “And we hope they get there on time.”
* * *
• • •
It was late, at least by human standards, and traffic was light, mostly Autos shuttling the tired through the Loop. Even Grant Park, usually crowded with tourists or festivals, was quiet.
Theo drove north on Columbus, pulled the vehicle to a stop at the curb in front of the wide brick plaza and fountain beyond it. There was a low pool with monstrous sculptures that reached through the water and three tiers of pink marble that glowed in the darkness.
We climbed out of the car, looked around, and saw no one. In silence, we made a large circle around the fountain, scanning the park for anything unusual. But there were no nymphs, no humans, no fairies. Just the fine spray of water across the bricks as the wind blew through the fountain’s towering spray.
And then the world shifted.
I felt it before I heard it, the vibration beneath my feet. Not a literal shaking, but a ring of power.
The monster felt it, too, and woke suddenly, stretching beneath my skin, reaching for the magic. Not because it seemed familiar—this wasn’t the Egregore that called from my mother’s sword. But because the power was enormous.
The second vibration was even stronger, like the earth was contracting beneath my feet. “Damn,” I murmured, and braced a hand against one of the metal supports around the fountain to stay upright.
“Elisa? What is it?”
“You can’t feel it?”
“No. It is the vibrations?”
“Yeah. Magic under our feet.” The rippling grew more violent still, like a train was bearing down on us. “And I’d say something’s on its way. Get ready.”
They appeared like ghosts, solidifying out of darkness. At least a hundred fairies in two straight lines that stretched out across the brick plaza.
Theo’s voice was quiet as he spoke into his screen. “We found the fairies.”
Or they’d found us.
* * *
• • •
They stood in two tight lines that formed a V, all in green tunics. All of them were fit. None too old; none too young. I guessed these were the soldiers—the warriors—and all of them had weapons. Straight swords, longbows, and daggers. Not a single gun or modern weapon, at least that I could see.
At the junction of the lines, facing us directly, their apparent master. Ruadan.
Claudia was nowhere in sight, which made me wonder: Was Ruadan here because Claudia had directed him, or because he’d overridden her command? Dragged her from her room in the castle and put himself in charge? And, maybe more important, were the fairies behind him loyal to Claudia or to Ruadan? How many rules were they willing to break for their would-be king?
“I’m alerting the CPD,” Theo quietly said, and tapped fingers against his screen even as he kept his gaze on the fairies. “Requesting significant backup.”
“Good plan,” I said quietly.
“Ruadan,” Theo said, when he’d put the screen away again, “what are you doing here?”
“Is this not a public park?” Ruadan asked with a sneer. “Are we not entitled to use it?”
“Is that all you’re doing?” Theo asked. “Planning an evening picnic?”
“Or maybe a group photo?” I offered, trying for bravado I didn’t really feel. Because while there was a part of me that wanted to fight—and the monster was eager for it—we were severely outnumbered.
“Oh, nice,” Theo said with a smile. “A group photo.” He looked around. “But I don’t see a photographer.”
“You dare mock me.” Ruadan’s expression was hard, furious magic beginning to pump from the fairies with almost the same ferocity as the vibrations beneath the street. “In that case, we claim this land—what you call Grant Park—for ourselves.”
“Who, exactly, is ‘we’?” I asked, and Ruadan’s gaze shifted to me, and his lips curled into a smile that made me want to shrink back into my skin. It was that look I’d seen before, the interest I didn’t like.
“I speak for the fairies,” he said.
“Does that include Claudia?” I asked.
His expression didn’t change. But there was a twitch at the corner of his eye that said he didn’t like the question.
“Where is she, Ruadan?” I asked, but kept my gaze on the fairies, wondering how they’d respond.
“Her location is not relevant,” Ruadan said. And the fairies’ expressions stayed blank. Maybe they didn’t know where she was. . . . Or maybe they didn’t care.
“It is relevant, because one hundred fairies have taken what appears to be a very aggressive position against the City of Chicago.” Theo slid his hands into his pockets like a man only mildly interested in the conversation. For the first time, I could see the former cop in Theo’s eyes.
“You mock us,” he continued. “You’re not here for enjoyment. Your people are armed. You’ve demanded property owned by the city, and I’m pretty sure you’ve already decided to fight. You know I’m not going to hand Grant Park over to you.”
Ruadan’s lip curled in obvious disgust. “We are older than your species, than your nation. We are better than you in every conceivable way.”
“But you need a few acres of brick and grass?”
“For reasons that are ours to know.”
“The Ombudsman’s office would disagree with you.”
“We have spoken with your Ombudsman,” Ruadan said, spitting out the word. “We expressed our displeasure with your breach and found a sympathetic ear.” And then he murmured something low and threatening.
With shocking speed, her movements blurred by it, the fairy behind Ruadan—pale skin, paler hair, and a narrow face that ended in a pointed chin—launched forward at Theo.
She looked so delicate, but there was nothing delicate about the blade she flipped from her tunic and he
ld at Theo’s throat. His eyes flashed to the blade, then up to me. But he didn’t move. He might have been human, but he had vampire-level chill. Unlike the fairies, who’d become blade-happy.
“If you will not give this land to us,” Ruadan said, “we will take it.” Then he settled his gaze on me. “We were unsatisfied by our last encounter. Shedding blood here would provide much-needed resolution.”
I looked at the fairy who held Theo. “A human isn’t much of a conquest, is it? I’d be a much more interesting opponent.”
She apparently agreed, as her blade was suddenly airborne and flying toward me.
I reached out and slapped my palms against the flat of the blade, the gleaming point barely an inch from my face. My heart beat so hard I could see the pulse throbbing in my wrists. And then I shifted my gaze around it to the fairy who’d thrown it.
“You missed,” I said.
She took the bait, pushing Theo backward and jumping toward me.
I flipped the blade to grab the handle, then thrust it down toward her. The fairy spun away at the last minute, so it glanced off her shoulder, scratching fabric but not drawing blood.
She kicked back, sending pain through my knee that was sharp as a hammer strike. I fell to my knees but grabbed her ankle on the way down, yanked it backward. She fell forward, caught herself on her palms, then twisted from the waist like a break-dancer, flipping her legs up and over until she was on her feet.
As if sensing the danger, the monster beat inside me with fists, wanting to join the battle, angry at being restrained when there was fighting to be had.
I pushed it down, which took more than a little energy. I nearly considered, just for a moment, letting it loose to have its way with Ruadan and the rest of them. But I didn’t want Ruadan to see, didn’t want to see victory or validation in his eyes. And if I let it go, let it join the fight—let it kick and punch and spill more blood onto the ground—what kind of monster would that make me?
The fairy kicked, and I fell and rolled across hard brick, then popped to my feet again, sweeping with the knife in front of me. Her chin dipped, and I realized that was her tell, the signal she intended to move. This time she went for the knife and grabbed my wrist. I kicked out, tried to pull away. . . . And the world erupted with noise and wind.
The cavalry had arrived, in the form of two CPD helicopters, spotlights spearing toward the ground. And beneath them, drones with cameras, marked by the television stations that piloted them.
“Supernaturals,” came the call from one of the copters. “Put your hands in the air.”
The fairy dropped her hold, sending me nearly stumbling backward. The spotlight followed as she stepped back into line with the others.
Ruadan looked more irritated than angry or afraid they’d been caught. And when the ground began to rumble again, the buzz of magic flowing up through the ground, I knew why.
“Theo!” I called out over the blades, my hair whipping into my eyes. “They’re using the magic again.”
“You will see,” Ruadan said. “You will see our power and you will fear.”
The world shuddered hard, an earthquake only sups could feel. It threw me off my feet, sending me to my knees, which knocked hard against brick.
Light flashed above me, brilliant and white, leaving a stripe of color seared on my retinas.
And when I could blink again . . . they were gone.
For a full minute, Theo and I stayed in place, just staring at the empty spot where the fairies had been.
“That was . . . weird,” I said, pushing chopper-blown hair out of my eyes.
“Very weird,” Theo said. “And anticlimactic.”
The monster was equally disturbed, and seemed to pace beneath my skin. The fight had been cut short, the enemies disappearing. Much like the fairies, it didn’t like being denied. And it didn’t respect their cowardice.
At least we had that in common.
EIGHTEEN
We were offered bottles of water and checks from EMTs, which we declined. Instead, we sent messages to the people who’d probably seen us on video—or would eventually—to let them know we were fine.
“You’ll want more patrols here,” Theo said to the CPD officer who questioned us. “They’ll probably come back.”
“Great,” the man said. “Just what we freakin’ need right now.” His voice was coated in a thick Chicago accent, and the familiarity made me feel a little better.
“We’ll go to the office,” Theo said, when they’d left us alone.
“Fine by me,” I said, and we walked back to his car.
Theo unlocked the doors, looked at me over the roof. “Are you aware that you can be scary?” He said it with a smile, so I took it as a compliment.
“I’m a vampire,” I said, with the most casual shrug I could manage. “It’s our thing.”
* * *
• • •
Mr. Pettiway looked up from a large paperback as we entered, but his expression stayed somber.
“Fairies,” he said, the single word holding a wealth of concern.
“Fairies,” Theo agreed. “Is he here?”
“Oh, he’s here.” And he didn’t sound thrilled about it. “And he isn’t very happy.”
“I appreciate the warning.” Theo glanced at the book. “You finished up The Odyssey?”
“It was my third time,” he said with a smile. “I breezed through it.” He showed us the cover of his current read, which featured an enormous golden crown. “Thought I’d lose myself in a little fantasy for a few days.”
“Any fairies in that one?” Theo asked.
“Plenty. Your high fae, your low fae, and everything in between.”
“If it gives you any ideas about dealing with them, let us know.”
Mr. Pettiway grinned. “You know I will.”
* * *
• • •
“Who is ‘he’?” I asked, as we walked through the main building. “Dearborn?”
“Yeah. Mr. Pettiway isn’t a fan. I believe he compares everyone to your great-grandfather. He wanted Yuen to get the job, but Dearborn has better connections.” He pressed his hand to a sensor beside a door and a “Briefing Room” sign.
The door slid open, revealing a long and narrow room with several rows of tables and chairs in a neat grid facing a large glass screen in the front of the room. Yuen stood in front of the screen, arms crossed as he watched Petra rearrange electronic images with a wave of her hand. Petra, like Yuen, wore a tidy suit and shiny shoes, which was quite a contrast to Theo’s shirt, now dotted with blood from the faint scrape of the fairy’s knife against his neck.
“Hey,” she said, glancing back.
“Hey, Petra.” I reached out to shake the bare hand she offered, and a bright blue spark jumped between our fingers, sending a literal shock of pain through me.
I yelped and yanked my hand back, rubbed the needlelike sting from my skin.
“Damn it. Sorry about that,” she said, and rubbed her own palm. “I forgot I wasn’t wearing gloves. I can’t use them when I use the damn screen. And the static doesn’t help,” she said, casting a sour glance at the carpet.
“We’re getting a humidifier,” Yuen said with a smile. “As soon as the budget’s approved.”
“Can’t be soon enough,” she said. “I’m a walking occupational hazard.”
Pounding footsteps echoed down the hallway, and Petra slid her gaze toward the open door. “And speaking of occupational hazards.”
Dearborn, wearing a tank top, running shorts, and tennis shoes, as if he’d been disturbed mid-run, strode into the room. “What the hell happened in Grant Park? I don’t appreciate hearing about supernatural goddamned drama on the radio. And I certainly do not want to brief the mayor on another disturbance caused by Chicago’s supernaturals.”
Just like wit
h the fairies, Theo looked totally unperturbed. “The fairies appeared via some magical mechanism in Grant Park. They attacked, we defended, and they disappeared.”
“What do you mean, they appeared and disappeared? They can’t suddenly transport themselves with magic.”
“Actually, that’s precisely what it looked like. We don’t know how—this is new behavior for fairies.”
Dearborn cursed under his breath. “And why were they in my park?”
I guessed everyone apparently had a claim on Grant Park these days.
“We don’t know,” Theo said, glancing at Yuen. Theo might have been answering Dearborn’s questions, but I had the sense he was also reporting to the man who did the bulk of the work. “We asked, and they didn’t answer. But they were in formation, had weapons, and tried to claim the park. They had something planned, but we don’t yet know what that is. And we’re lucky the nymphs were there to feel the magic—and that we got there in time, before they did something destructive.”
“‘Lucky,’” Dearborn said, “is the operative word. We can’t afford further destabilization or bad publicity right now, any more than we can afford to deal with speculation about a crisis involving the fairies.”
“It’s not speculation,” Theo said. “The crisis is here. If it wasn’t for me and Elisa, they might have attacked, damaged property—who knows?”
“Are you asking for my thanks?” Dearborn asked. “Because you won’t get it.”
“No, sir,” Theo said. And for the first time, he looked unhappy with his boss. “I’m advising you that they’re preparing for something.”
“And they’ve probably been preparing for something since their interruption at the peace talks,” I added.
His brows lifted. “Their appearance at Grant Park tonight has no obvious connection to the peace talks, and I won’t accept speculation in that regard. They have no bearing on the matter of the death of Tomas Cardona. An arrest has been made in that case.”
