by Amy Sumida
“Two kings and a queen of two kingdoms walk into a bar,” the peri said.
“What's the punchline?” I asked.
“You tell me.” He lifted a brow. “Who are you here to punch, Queen Seren?”
“I will do the punching, if necessary, Aaron,” Daxon said to the peri. “The Ambassador is here undercover.”
“Undercover?” The peri chortled. “You can't cover that up.” He waved a hand at me in a general manner “Anyone with any kind of sight can see the magic pulsing off her. And you, King Raza”—Aaron shook his head—“we all know what you look like; in and out of your human glamour. You're a hard one to miss.”
“I didn't realize I was so famous,” Raza huffed.
“Infamous,” I coughed out the word, and Raza glared at me.
I smiled brightly.
“Most of us in HR have fled Fairy for one reason or another,” Aaron went on with an amused look in my direction. “And you have been a figure of note to us refugees, King Raza.”
“Why is that?” Raza frowned.
“Your family was royal, and yet it became a target.” Aaron shrugged. “You had to run, just like us common folk.”
“I did not run,” Raza said with a growl as he leaned across the table. “Dragons never run unless we are chasing something.”
“Maybe that was the wrong choice of word.” Aaron held his hands up in surrender. “I just meant that you left court like several of us had to. We know you, Your Majesty, and we respect you. You regained your grandfather's throne and made Unseelie safe. That's why you are known.”
Raza sat back, satisfied, and nodded as if Aaron had just reported the absolute truth.
“But you're still King of Unseelie,” Aaron went on. “And that title brings a different sort of respect.”
“You mean fear,” I said and looked back to Raza. “As I said; infamous.”
“Fear is a type of respect,” Aaron countered.
“Then it seems that I am not being respected anymore,” Daxon slid into the conversation. “Because my orders have been ignored.”
“Which order is that, Your Majesty?” Aaron asked with so much innocence; it was practically theater.
“Do I need to remind the Underground how I became king?” Daxon's voice went low and menacing. “Perhaps they've forgotten that I'm worthy of the same sort of respect that King Raza receives.”
“I'm feeling that respect for you right now, Your Majesty.” Aaron gulped visibly. “No need for a reminder. I came over here to help; I swear.”
“Then tell me who has been selling spells to humans.” Daxon narrowed his eyes at the peri.
Aaron, who was a dark-skinned man, paled noticeably. He cast a nervous glance around the room and met several stares along the way. As his gaze swung back to us, a man in a jeans jacket got up and started heading to a hallway at the back of the bar. I focused on him and started to stand. He glanced over and saw me. His eyes widened, and he began to run.
“Fuck,” I hissed as I chased after him.
“Seren!” Raza growled.
The pound of heavy footsteps on wood followed after me.
Mr. Jeans Jacket reached a door at the back of the bar and opened it. He slammed it shut behind him, casting a frightened glance over his shoulder as he did. I made it to the door two seconds later and opened it just as he disappeared into a wall across the alley from me. I ran forward and slammed my hand against the solid stone.
“What the fuck?” I snarled at the wall.
It had to be some kind of warded illusion, but with magic like that, you had to be recognized to be allowed passage. The thing was; what was a ward like that doing here; behind a human-run bar? The door behind me opened, and Raza and Daxon rushed out into the alley. I started to turn toward them when out of the corner of my eye, I saw a hand reach through the solid brick wall and grab my wrist.
I made a startled gasp as I was pulled through the illusion of bricks and mortar; Raza's cry echoing in my ears hollowly as I went. The illusion faded away, and I found myself in a chilly, cement stairwell. A burly man with an excess of body hair yanked me forward, and I fell into his chest. He caught me and dragged me down the stairs before I could react.
“Easy now, Ambassador, I'm not lookin' to hurt you,” the hairy man said. “I just want to have a little talk in private.”
He set me on my feet, but kept a grip on my hand, using it to pull me through a door at the bottom of the stairs. We came out into a corridor, but he didn't take me any further, just shut the door behind us and locked it. With a wave of his hand, he warded it for good measure. Then he bowed over the wrist he still held, sliding his grasp down to my hand.
“I am Harsha,” he said. “I work for someone who prefers to remain anonymous at this time.”
“All right, Harsha.” I looked over his leather tunic and homespun pants; hardly modern human wear. “If you won't tell me who you're working for, at least tell me if he or she is the one who's been selling magic to humans.”
“She is not in that business,” Harsha said. “But she supports it.”
“Hmm.” I pursued my lips just as someone tried to open the door beside us. “So, what could a criminal possibly want to say to an ambassador?”
Someone started pounding on the door, then it stopped abruptly, and a muted conversation drifted through the wood. It was Raza and Daxon, arguing over how to best deal with the obstacle.
“Give me a minute, guys!” I shouted through the door and heard them pause. “I'll be out soon.” Then I nodded to Harsha. “Go on; I'm all ears.”
“My boss isn't a criminal,” Harsha protested, sounding a lot like Daxon. “She has broken no laws.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” I rolled my eyes. “She's currently impeding a criminal investigation, and that is against the law.”
Harsha blinked and just stared at me.
“What did you come here to say, Harsha?” I prompted. “And where is 'here?'”
“Um,” he faltered and frowned at me.
“Seren?” Raza pounded on the door again. “Open this fucking door!”
“Keep your pants on, dragon! I'm fine.” I shouted back. Then I looked to Harsha. “Well?”
“She wants you to know that you are being deceived, Ambassador,” Harsha said with a wary glance at the door. “And to be wary of those around you. You are in danger.”
“Who is deceiving me?” I demanded. “Why am I in danger?”
“I cannot say.” He cast a frown at the door again as the pounding was renewed. “But I suggest that you be more selective in whom you trust.”
“Wow! That's been a huge help,” I said sarcastically. “Tell your boss that I said 'Thank you so much, and to shove her vague insinuations up her ass,'” I growled the last bit.
Harsha's dark eyes widened. “You're feisty.”
“You think?” I grimaced. “Now, how about telling me where you've brought me.”
“Where I've brought you?” Harsha asked in surprise. “Why, this is the Underground, Your Majesty.”
I noted his slip; giving me my royal title instead of sticking to the more neutral 'ambassador'—which was a way of denying my dominion over him. His shock had betrayed him; he still considered himself a subject of Seelie.
“The Underground?” I frowned. “I thought that was a term for fairy commerce in the Human Realm? Like the Black-Market; an illegal trade.”
“A term?” Harsha laughed; a big booming sound that drowned out Raza's pounding. “Yeah it's a term all right; a literal term for a fairy community beneath the earth.”
“Shut the front door,” I whispered as I peered past him.
The corridor stretched on, but there was another door at the far end—possibly the front door—and although it was indeed shut, it also had a glass panel in it. I could see people walking past it on the other side... fairy people.
“Most paths to the Underground are open to all fairies,” he went on. “But this one is a private entrance, and I'm going to
have to insist that you leave the way I brought you. I cannot be seen escorting the Ambassador into the Underground.”
“Hell no,” I growled. “I'm in pursuit of a suspect. I'm not leaving.”
“Your suspect is long gone,” Harsha said with a smile, “and he wouldn't have helped you anyway. You're looking at this the wrong way, Ambassador. Instead of chasing that man, you should be asking yourself why King Daxon hasn't told you the truth about the Underground... and what else he may be hiding from you.”
With that, Harsha reached around me to open the door, shoved me through it—right into Daxon's arms—and slammed the door shut on our shocked faces.
Chapter Three
“Are you all right?” Raza asked as he took me firmly away from Daxon.
“I'm fine.” I gave my husband a small smile before glancing at Daxon consideringly. “Come on, let's get out of here.”
I headed up the stairs.
“Hold on now,” Raza growled. “What was that about? And why aren't we trying to get through that door? Seren?”
“I'll tell you about it later. First, I want to get back to the bar and see what that peri has to say. And we won't get through that door without some serious effort; effort I'm not willing to make when I could just have Daxon take me to the same place via another way.”
I made it out into the alley, past the illusion ward, and turned to Daxon with a lifted brow.
“What the fuck is she going on about, Tromlaighe?” Raza growled.
“The Underground, I believe,” Daxon said with a confused scowl. “I can take you down there if you want to pursue that fairy, but I doubt we'll be able to find him now. The Underground is a maze filled with places for a fairy like him to hide.”
“You don't deny that the Underground is actually a community under the ground?” I growled at him.
“No.” Daxon's expression became even more confused. “Why are you acting surprised?”
“Why am I...?” I gaped at him. “You thought I knew about it?”
“You didn't know?” He shot back. “You came to me talking about the Underground as if you knew exactly what it is, and now you're acting as if I hid some detail about it from you.”
“All I knew was that some lab assistant at Gentry told me there was one, and that I should look into it,” I huffed.
“You didn't know that the 'Underground' is a term for fairy communities which exist beneath human cities?” Raza asked, just as surprised as Daxon. “It's literally in the name, Seren.”
I thought back to our investigation of Daxon, and how vague my conversations about the Underground had been; not just with Daxon, but also with every fairy I had spoken to about it. Shit; I was an idiot.
“Danu damn it,” I snapped. “I thought 'Underground' was another word for 'secret.' You took me around to your businesses, and they were all above ground.”
“Because I'm not against selling to humans,” Daxon said. “I think it's a fair exchange for being able to do business on the surface.”
“So, you don't have any shops in the actual Underground?” I asked.
“My businesses are technically a part of the Underground because I cater mainly to fairies and I rule,” Daxon explained. “But no; I don't have any businesses beneath LA. Seren, I'm sorry if you thought I misled you, but I believed that you knew about the Underground.”
“I did as well,” Raza said. “It's not only on you, Count Tromlaighe. It's simply miscommunication.”
Daxon looked at Raza in surprise.
“Let's get back to the bar,” I said and started stomping off.
I didn't seem to have a right to be angry at either of them; which had the odd effect of making me even angrier.
“Seren,” Daxon hurried after me. “I would have been happy to tell you all about the Underground, had you asked.”
“Yep; I get it,” I said in a clipped tone.
“Why are you so upset?” Daxon growled.
“Just save it for later,” I muttered.
“Seren”—Raza came up beside me—“we will have Tromlaighe take us to another entrance, and we'll continue our investigation in the actual Underground.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Why is she mad?” Daxon asked Raza.
“I don't know,” Raza murmured, “but I don't like this.”
“Seren,” Daxon started again.
“That man said that someone was lying to me,” I turned around to snarl at Daxon.
We were right behind the bar's back door; not the place I wanted to have this conversation, but it looked like I didn't have a choice.
Daxon blinked in surprise. “And then he implied it was me?”
“He said I should ask you why you hadn't told me about the Underground. He seemed shocked that I didn't know,” I said.
“As shocked as we were?” Daxon snapped and lifted a deep, indigo brow at me.
“And then he said I should ask myself what else you've been hiding from me,” I added.
“Gods-damn it, Seren,” Daxon snapped. “I'm not hiding anything from you. Think about where you just got this information, and ask yourself why you should trust this stranger over me.”
I deflated.
“Did he say that I was lying to you? Specifically?” Daxon asked. “And if he did, did he say what I was lying about or did he just make a bunch of unsupported accusations?”
“No; he didn't specify,” I conceded. “He said I should be careful whom I trust.”
“Well, that's vague and cryptic,” Raza huffed. “Seren, he was most likely sent to cause dissension among us. You're usually more perceptive than this. What's really bothering you?”
“It's odd that he happened to be in the perfect place at the perfect time to grab me.” I frowned as I thought about it. “He wouldn't tell me who he worked for, only that it was a woman who didn't sell magic to humans but who was in favor of it.”
“He basically told you that his mistress was supportive of law-breakers, but then tried to cast suspicion on Tromlaighe?” Raza gave me an astounded look.
“Yeah; it sounds bad when you say it like that.” I sighed. “But he also pointed out that his boss wasn't breaking any laws herself, and neither was whoever is selling the magic.”
“Whoever sold that magic to the human is breaking my law,” Daxon reminded me. “And this man's boss is aiding and abetting the criminal.”
“Valid,” I conceded.
“What did this guy look like?” Daxon asked.
“He was big and hairy,” I said. “And his name was Harsha.”
Daxon cursed.
“He gave you his name?” Raza asked. “That was bold. It was probably an attempt to get you to trust him, but he might as well have named his mistress as well.” He waved a hand at Daxon's angry face. “It looks as if Tromlaighe knows him.”
“I'm familiar with Harsha, but I don't know who his boss is,” Daxon corrected. “Harsha is a riksha mercenary; he could be working for anyone. We can't trust a word he says, not even that his boss is a woman.”
“Shit,” I hissed.
“Bear shit,” Raza corrected with a grimace. “Rikshas are bear-shifters.”
“I know what a riksha is, Raza,” I snapped as I turned and entered the bar.
“Of course you do, mo shíorghrá,” Raza called after me. “I was just trying to cast some levity on the situation.”
“What is she mad about now?” Daxon huffed.
“I have no fucking idea,” Raza growled. “But I'm beginning to see why she works so well with Killian.”
Chapter Four
The peri was gone by the time we strode back into The White Lotus' main room. In fact, all of the non-human clientele had vacated the premises like rats off a sinking ship. The bartender eyed us warily as we approached him.
“Is the owner here, by any chance?” I asked the barman.
He shook his head.
“Do you know who I am?”
Another head shake.
“Okay, he
re's the deal—”
“Your Majesty, if I may?” Daxon cut me off.
“By all means, Count Tromlaighe,” I said in the same snooty tone as his.
Daxon grimaced at me before turning to the bartender. “Rick, what the fuck?”
“I don't know what you mean, Mr. Tromlaighe.” Rick the Bartender tried to look innocent.
“Don't bullshit me on top of being a fucking traitor,” Daxon growled. “Not only will I shut this place down, I will also shut you down; do you understand me?”
Rick the Bartender went white. He nodded.
“Now, tell me who the fuck has been selling magic to humans against my direct orders,” Daxon snapped.
“I don't know who they're working for,” Rick stammered. “You know I don't know the fairy bosses,” he hurried on when Daxon gave him a dark look. “I swear to you; I don't.”
“Yes, yes”—Daxon rotated his hand in a go-on gesture. “So, what do you know?”
“I've seen two guys selling in here lately”—he swallowed roughly and went on—“two guys who I recognize. There have been a few others who I don't know.”
“What two?” Daxon's eyes narrowed, and his face transformed into something subtly menacing.
Rick nearly peed himself.
“Uh, there was uh.” He cleared his throat. “It was Red Dave and Jimmy.”
“All right.” Daxon eased back. “I'm going to be monitoring this place now. You'd best make it known that black-market magic isn't welcome here.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Rick said immediately. “You won't have trouble with us again.”
Daxon nodded and headed for the door, Raza and I followed. We didn't speak until we were inside Daxon's town car. Desmond, Daxon's second-in-command, and a cu-sidhe, was driving us. He turned around in his seat to face us after we got in.
“Everything all right?” Desmond asked.
“Not even close,” Daxon growled. “Red Dave and Jimmy are two out of a handful of fairies dealing magic to humans.”
“Jimmy?” Desmond whistled. “That's some heavy ammo to be sending out to push charms.”
“What kind of fairy is he?” I asked.
