Court of Rogues

by Ann Gimpel

  Court of Rogues

  An Urban Fantasy

  Ann Gimpel

  Contents

  Court of Rogues

  Book Description, Court of Rogues

  Books in the Magick and Misfits Series

  Author’s Note:

  1. Chapter One, Cyn

  2. Chapter Two, Cyn

  3. Chapter Three, Dariyah

  4. Chapter Four, Cyn

  5. Chapter Five, Dariyah

  6. Chapter Six, Cyn

  7. Chapter Seven, Dariyah

  8. Chapter Eight, Cyn

  9. Chapter Nine, Dariyah

  10. Chapter Ten, Cyn

  11. Chapter Eleven, Dariyah

  12. Chapter Twelve, Cyn

  13. Chapter Thirteen, Dariyah

  14. Chapter Fourteen, Cyn

  15. Chapter Fifteen, Dariyah

  Book Description: Midnight Court

  Midnight Court, Prologue, Auril

  About the Author

  Also by Ann Gimpel

  Court of Rogues

  Magick and Misfits Series, Book One

  An Urban Fantasy

  * * *

  By

  Ann Gimpel

  * * *

  Tumble off reality’s edge into a twisted world fueled by myth and magick

  Copyright Page

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright © June 2020, Ann Gimpel

  Cover Art Copyright © June 2020, CoverInked Design

  Edited by: Kate Richards

  Names, characters, and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or people living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or shared by any electronic or mechanical means, including but not limited to printing, file sharing, e-mail, or web posting without written permission from the author.

  Book Description, Court of Rogues

  Urban fantasy and slow burn romance wrapped into a serial that will keep you up reading long into the night.

  * * *

  Strange bedfellows rock worlds.

  * * *

  Reluctant recruit to the nines, I became Faery’s regent by default. Sure, I was next in line for the throne, but I never believed Oberon and Titania were gone for good until first a decade rolled by, and then two, and then ten.

  They’ll never be back, and the land is mourning. Or pissed. It’s hard to tell which, and I’m not sure what difference it makes. I split my time between Faery and Earth searching for a way to mend the rift that’s killing my realm. I haven’t made much progress. Time is running through the glass, mocking my paltry efforts.

  A sultry Witch is barely a blip on the radar. So what if she counts cards in the casino I run on Earth and makes my pit boss a little nuts? Out of the blue, she spits out the unbelievable, and I discover she’s not a Witch after all. A glamour hid her Fae-Sidhe blood so well, she’d fooled me.

  Her mixed blood is an affront. By rights, I should haul her before the Court to face justice. She understood the chance she took revealing herself to me, and her offer to join forces is tempting, but it could cost me my throne.

  Some risks are worth the price. If I cross the line, there’ll be no going back.

  Books in the Magick and Misfits Series

  Court of Rogues, Book One

  Midnight Court, Book Two

  Court of the Fallen, Book Three

  Court of Destiny, Book Four

  Author’s Note:

  Covers play a big role in my creative process. I saw a set of covers featuring a badass Fae prince a while back and bid on them. Unfortunately, someone had a faster Internet connection than me, so I didn’t end up with them. But everything comes out as it should because I found another cover I liked even better: the one on this book.

  I’ve always been fascinated with the Otherworld. The faeries’ ancestral home goes by many names. It’s called Annwn in Welsh mythology and Avalon in Arthurian legend. In Irish mythology it’s referred to as Tír na nÓg, Mag Mell, and Emain Ablach. Irish myths also feature a place called Tech Duinn, where the souls of the dead gather.

  But I digress. My vision is a world where mortal and faery collide.

  You, my readers, will let me know how well I managed it.

  1

  Chapter One, Cyn

  The door to my cramped office slapped against its stops, rattling the frosted glass blazoned with Jedediah Rolfson, General Manager, Lady Luck Casino. The gilt lettering had faded, but everyone in the gaming house knew who I was and where to find me. Of course, Jedediah isn’t my true name. Names hold immeasurable power. Even if mortals had been able to pronounce my real one, I’d never, never give them that sort of leverage over me.

  My door was still vibrating. A knock would have been nice. Respectful, even, but manners had passed most mortals by. Fueled by irritation, my power simmered so close to the surface it took an effort to rein it in. No need to turn around to identify the man who’d disturbed what passed for peace in this place.

  “What is it, Rudy?” I still hadn’t swiveled my chair to face him.

  “How’d you know it was me?” he demanded.

  Because I can smell you, idiot…

  I did twist then. The motion of my big body forced the ratty leather chair around almost as an afterthought. Stick-straight black hair fell across Rudy’s face, and his white shirt was rolled to the elbows. His usual dark pants were rucked up over the tops of battered leather boots. He looked more like a kitchen knave than a pit boss—an underfed kitchen knave who’d stopped growing as a teenager. I made a point of hiring oddballs—freaks and losers. They weren’t in a rush to use Lady Luck as a steppingstone for something better.

  Angling a pointed look his way, I growled, “Never mind how I know things. What’s gone wrong?” I snapped my fingers in the vain hope he might hurry things up.

  He squeezed his bloodshot dark eyes shut for a count of two before opening them. “That infernal twit who counts cards is back.”

  Many patrons count cards, but only one had posed a challenge recently. Interest flickered as I constructed an image of the leggy red-haired Witch with an iridescent nimbus of power floating around her. “You mean the woman?”

  “Of course I mean the blasted woman.” A touch of his Russian accent slipped through. “She’s the only one who’s been able to beat our system.”

  “What exactly were you hoping I’d do?”

  Color stained his sallow cheeks. It was such an unusual response, I delved into his mind and helped myself to his thoughts. Mortals were quite the superficial lot. Culling through their secrets saved me a lot of time.

  “Well?” I snapped my fingers again, more out of frustration than actual hope it would move Rudy off the dime.

  “Maybe you can tell her to leave.” He drew himself up to his full five-foot-eight-inch height, but it didn’t have the desired effect. He wanted me to respect him, to back his play, but I’d seen the whole sorry charade in his puny mind. He’d chased the Witch out the last time she stopped by the casino, but he’d also done his damnedest to fuck her.

  She’d lured him with a fine set of tits, and then hexed him. Even though he had no concept of what she’d done, her sneaky spell had rendered him impotent. I smothered a chuckle. Witchy charms had a shelf-life. Eventually his little johnny would stand up and salute again, and—

  A muted crash came through the audio on one of many screens I’d had mounted so I could see the entire gaming house. Not that I needed them, but they looked good and avoided explanations about how I knew jack concerning the brawl in the basement lounge. The patrons had no idea I spied on them—until I tur
ned them over to the authorities for cheating the house. I’ve been called a lot of names since I was suckered into taking on this thankless job. So far, I’ve maintained my cool.

  Eventually, though, some hapless mortal will find himself skewered by Fae magic. They’ll beg for mercy, for the compassion of a human court, but it will be too late. Mortals never leave Faery unless we release them, not intact, anyway. Those who break free end up in institutions.

  “Jed?” Rudy prodded.

  “Yeah. Yeah. On my way.” I flowed out of my seat. If Rudy weren’t hovering in my doorway, I’d have teleported four floors down. Meanwhile, the ruckus was escalating amid the crash of breaking glassware.

  “The thieving card counter?” Rudy’s gaze skittered away.

  “Is that why you’re still standing there?” I made shooing motions with both hands. “Christ. Strap on a set. Get moving. I have bigger problems.”

  The color that had stained his face turned an ugly tomato shade before he spun and pelted down a nearby stairwell mumbling in Russian. He thought I’d never hear him, but he was whining about the fight that had broken out not being on his floor. If it were, the Witch would have beat a hasty retreat.

  A snarl of frustration burbled past my throat. I’d never been able to pound the whole team player concept down everyone’s throats. Rudy had risen to pit boss because he was honest—and loyal. Maybe it was too much to expect him—or any human in my employ—to show any initiative beyond the basics.

  He didn’t like me, but then none of the staff did. They sensed I was different, couldn’t put their fingers on why that was, and felt uncomfortable in my presence.

  Good. I’d never lift a finger to alter their instinctive dread of me.

  The day humans can lounge in front of Fae royalty—never mind how far we’ve fallen—is the day for me to retire to the Dreaming and never resurface. A quick glance at the monitor reassured me the brawl was in full swing. No one would notice an unorthodox entrance, so I hopped on an enchanted conduit and emerged in the largest of five gaming halls in a blaze of light.

  Muted light, but it still would have given someone pause. Not here, though, and not now. What looked like a motorcycle gang—leather and tatts and piercings—had faced off against a bunch of Asian street hoods who fancied themselves a modern-day version of the mob.

  Ha! Bugsy and Al, two of my old buddies, would have laughed until they puked at the comparison. They’d understood how to be badasses because they’d borrowed liberally from Faery. Much of their wickedness never saw the light of day; they were too smart to reveal themselves, and I’d sworn them to silence. Most mortals wouldn’t honor such a bond, but they did. They had no idea what I was, but they’d absorbed my lessons like mother’s milk. I crossed a few lines—eh, more than a few—by teaching them gruesome ways to inflict pain and death. Even then, my kingdom was on its way out. What were a few more broken rules?

  Turned out flaunting Fae law held a price beyond measure, but I’m getting ahead of things.

  No one noticed me as I crunched over broken glass, my fury growing at the senseless destruction. The acrid stench of piss merged with the coppery tang of blood. If I didn’t establish control over the situation, this room wouldn’t be usable for a few days.

  Unacceptable. The tables in this gambling hall raked in better than $50,000 a night.

  Grunts and curses rained around me as men punched and knifed one another. I sent magic spiraling out, hunting for the telltale bite of metal. Lady Luck had a no-firearms-or-knives rule, and a metal detector sat at the main entrance. It netted us an impressive array of weapons that we stashed in a safe and turned over to the cops once a week.

  Yeah. That’s right. Bring a gun or a shiv into my club, and you have to petition the cops to get it back. Works great if the piece is legal, but most of them weren’t. Ever since I’d established that brilliant bit of policy, we hadn’t seized too many of them.

  I’d made it to the front of the large hall. Not a dealer or croupier in sight. Either they were hiding in the shadows, or they’d fled at the first hint of trouble. I’d deal with that later. They were supposed to alert someone like Rudy. Or me. I employed half a dozen pit bosses who rotated through the club.

  I’d heard from Rudy, but not about this mess.

  Someone catapulted into me from the side brandishing a knife. I punched him squarely in the neck, and he dropped like a stone. Shouts told me I’d made someone happy by knocking out one of their enemies. Another dude decked out in black leather rushed me from the back. I knew he was coming, but I let him think he was getting away with something.

  I swear, mortals’ intelligence has been on the wane for the past hundred years. If Shit For Brains had any at all, he’d have recognized a dead-to-the-world five-year-old would have heard him bearing down on me. Timing is everything. I turned at the precise moment to hit him with a one-two combo to the gut and heart. I might have killed him, but I didn’t care.

  Once he was squealing and twitching at my feet, I cupped my hands around my mouth and amplified my voice with magic laced with you’d-better-do-what-I-say-or-your-days-will-be-numbered compulsion.

  “Stop. Right Now.” Three little words. No need to repeat them.

  A slow lazy smile formed, stretching my face into an unaccustomed configuration. Yay me. I still had it. Everyone had frozen in place.

  “Excellent,” I went on, smooth as melted butter. “Everyone get the fuck out of here except your top dogs. Take the fallen with you.”

  As the crowd cleared, shuffling toward the door, another of my pit bosses scuttled to my side and cleared her throat. “Sorry, boss,” Tatiana mumbled. “I went to find you, but your office was empty.”

  Kind of like your head.

  I’d learned to squelch comments like that long ago. Mortals were notoriously thin-skinned, and Tatiana reeked of fear. She hadn’t pissed herself, but it had been nip-and-tuck. Her blonde hair was in an updo, and her skin pale under heavy makeup. She would have been pretty without all the war paint. Blue eyes, her best feature, were framed by thick lashes, and she wore Lady Luck’s standard employee uniform: white shirt and black pants. Most of the shirts carried the Lady Luck logo, a phoenix sinking into a crater.

  The symbolism escaped everyone except me, and I’d never been in a sharing mood when it came to questions like, “What’s that mean, boss?” Besides, even if I told them it represented Faery’s decline, they’d have thought I’d had too much to drink.

  Meanwhile, four men had moved closer, but not too close. Like I said, I make humans nervous.

  “Yeah?” One narrowed his eyes. “What’d you want us for?”

  I nailed him with my gaze. I employ a glamour. It smooths the points of my ears and makes my eyes appear blue, rather than a mix of silver and gold with coppery centers. For the slightest of moments, I let it slip a notch, just a hint of a blur.

  The dude rubbed his eyes. “Shit. Drunker than I thought.” His words were slurred.

  It was tempting to display more of what I really was. I shrugged it off. No point in making him yearn for the impossible. He’d be drawn to my deviant beauty. More than drawn. He’d twist himself into a pretzel for one more peek. If I’d wanted a lackey, sure, but I had other plans for him and his partners in crime.

  “You have two choices,” I told the men who were shifting from foot to foot as they looked mostly at the floor. “Grab mops and buckets and clean up the mess you made.”

  “Or?” One tried for a sneer, but didn’t quite manage it.

  “Or I hold you here and call the cops. Property damage is a felony. Bet you’ve had a few of those already.”

  I rocked back on my heels, waiting. Tatiana had drawn closer to me, not because I was warm and fuzzy, but because the thugs made her even more nervous than I did.

  “Big talk. How are you planning to keep us from leaving?” Shit For Brains Number Two asked.

  I swept an arm wide. “I don’t have to. You’re all on camera. I give the cops the feed
and voila.” I dusted my hands together. “I’m sure they know you already.”

  “We’ll clean,” he gritted out.

  “It would go faster with more of us,” another pointed out.

  “Probably so, but I don’t want ‘more of you’ in here,” I told him. “While we’re on that little topic, you and your gang members are barred from Lady Luck from here on in.”

  The one who’d said his life would be simpler with drones to order about drew himself up. “You can’t do that, man.”

  “The hell I can’t,” I retorted and turned to Tatiana. “Show these fellows where the cleaning supplies are and oversee the work. They don’t leave until you’re satisfied they’ve done a good job.”

  Her blue eyes widened. “Erm. Maybe the head of janitorial would be better for that.”

  “He might be,” I agreed, trying for an amiable tone, “but I assigned this job to you.”

  Something in my voice told her arguing was pointless. She’d run at the first whiff of fighting. That story about coming to find me had been pure fabrication. She rolled her shoulders back, barked, “Follow me,” and loped across the expanse of parquet flooring.

  After a pause a shade too long for my liking, the men turned to follow her. Just so there’d be no misunderstandings later, I called after them, “Don’t even think about hassling her. If you do, I’ll find out.”