Institute of the Shadow Fae Box Set

by C. N. Crawford

  He was holding something aloft—the gleaming chalice. Dark magic wafted off it. It smelled of myrrh….

  The sight of him fully shifted sent ice streaming through my veins and left me breathless. A low growl trembled over my skin, then deepened and rumbled through my gut. The incubus in him had come out completely, and he wanted blood. Violet magic crackled over his muscled body.

  Ruadan as an incubus was a strangely beautiful nightmare. Part of my brain was screaming at me to run. But his magic was skimming over my body, and the other half of my brain wanted to take a step closer to him, to bask in his eerie beauty, feel his breath on my neck. Ruadan was dangerous as hells—a hunter who could lure you to your own death.

  His body glowed as he fed off my pain.

  My finger twitched at the hilt of my sword. Everyone had to die sometime.

  Chapter 98

  The mist army spread out behind me, awaiting my next order. Tendrils of fog curled off their bodies, twining in the river’s breeze.

  Another flash of the death instinct rattled along my bones, spurring me on to kill the enemy before me. My wings thumped the air, feet lifting off the ground just a little. Maybe … just maybe, if my magic was powerful enough, I could kill even a demigod—Angelic spell or not.

  Death, the conqueror, reigns supreme. All fall before me.

  My fists tightened, nails piercing my palms. Rein it in, Liora. Stay in control.

  In the end, all bow to me—even the gods.

  The look he was giving me was glacial, eyes black, body unmoving. I gripped my sword as I landed before him. His wings spread out behind him. Long, black claws had grown from his fingertips, and I stared at the unyielding, otherworldly face of a predator.

  Gripping the chalice, he stared at Death—his ancient enemy.

  Kneel, demigod, or I’ll rip the life from your body.

  I gritted my teeth, my mind flashing with the image of a wreath made of wildflowers and leaves, the one I’d left in Emain. Emptiness ate at my chest. Half of me wanted to sneak off into the shadows, to curl up like an animal crawling off to die. The other half—the survivor in me—wanted to destroy, wanted to leave this man bleeding on the stone before me.

  His cold, lethal stare cut me to the quick.

  I’d known that the betrayal would kill me before the sword ever did, and at that moment … the way Ruadan was looking at me, it felt like a battle I was losing.

  I felt my wings fold and shrink into my shoulder blades as the death instinct flitted away on the wind.

  I tried to read Ruadan’s expression, but I found nothing there. Just the icy stare of a void demon. I knew how he moved. If he wanted to, he could rip my heart out before I had the chance to see the first twitch of his muscles.

  This painful, jagged silence broke my heart. My chest felt like it was being cleaved in two, and Ruadan’s body glowed as he fed from my heartbreak.

  I glanced at the chalice he was holding, breathed in the scent of my father. Only then did I understand—distilled magic. My father had never been here at all.

  I wasn’t the Angel of Death anymore. I wasn’t Arianna. I was just Liora, and I’d never felt so alone in my life.

  Ruadan’s power strengthened as he fed off my pain.

  “Adonis didn’t have a son,” I said. “He had a daughter who dressed like a boy. That was me.” I tightened my grip on the sword. “My name is Liora. Half fae, half death angel. I saw your kill list. I’m on it.”

  Silence pressed down on us, interrupted only by the sound of the wind rushing over the river.

  I didn’t see Ruadan move—just a dark sweep of wind, then I felt his body behind me, his warmth pressing against me. He traced a clawed fingertip over my collarbone, and something dangerous and electrical raced through my blood. It felt like a caress, one tinged with sharpness. It was a warning, too. My head would be gone before I had a chance to react.

  My heart beat so hard I was sure Ruadan could hear it.

  “Did he send you?” asked Ruadan.

  I could hardly think straight, confusion clouding my mind. “Who? Baleros?” We’d been over this. I already told him the truth.

  “Adonis.”

  Anger roiled. “I haven’t seen him since the day you came to kill us. He’s not working with Baleros. He never was. That chalice you’re holding there is my father’s magic distilled. Just like you distilled yours in the ring I’m wearing.”

  “The Unholy Grail,” said Ruadan, his voice pure ice. “Some legends are true. It’s a magic that doesn’t belong on Earth. The destroyer of worlds.”

  “Speaking of not belonging, you should never have come for us.” Rage laced my voice, an anger I didn’t know I’d been sheltering. If Ruadan hadn’t invaded that day, I wouldn’t be here. “You didn’t belong in our world. We were fine until you came.”

  I stole a glance behind me, at his powerful body looming over me. In the V of his dark shirt, the World Key glowed with gold. Those few inches of skin were the root of all this chaos. Anger snapped through my nerve endings, ready to explode.

  “From where I’m standing, you’re the destroyer of worlds.” The fury in my voice surprised even me. “We weren’t hurting anyone where we were. We were locked in our own world. You crushed it.” I elbowed him hard in the chest, but he hardly moved. “What do you expect when you invade a place? You think you can come to kill people and they won’t fight back? Guess what, Ruadan? It wasn’t my father who killed everyone. It was me. I killed your cohort. I killed your brothers. I killed my mum, too. That was me. I didn’t know it until the bean nighe made me relive it just now. I’m powerful, just like my father. Now you know. I’m on your list. So what are you going to do?”

  I stole another look behind me. Darkness swathed him, mist and shadows curling around him in wild whorls. Silence cloaked the courtyard, coldness danced up my spine. Any moment now, he’d rip my head off like I’d seen him do to his enemies.

  The tip of his claw traced over my neck. This wasn’t Ruadan—this was the incubus.

  Or was it the same thing? I told myself that the Angel of Death wasn’t me. I told myself I was just Liora, and that was all there was to it. But maybe we couldn’t carve ourselves up that way, into neat little parts. Death was a part of me—just like this cold, predatory demon was a part of Ruadan. We all had our own ways of protecting ourselves. This was Ruadan’s.

  I reached up, and I ran my fingertips along the inside of his wrist, the vulnerable part. Then, I kissed his skin.

  His arm stiffened. Then, an almost inaudible exhale—a hint of relief.

  At last, he spoke. “I need the mist army to defend the Institute.” His voice was like dark velvet skimming over my body, so smooth I nearly forgot the threat he was delivering.

  “There’s only one way to get it.” It was a dangerous dare, but I needed to see what he would do. My heart slammed against my ribs. I could still do it. If I needed to, I could let the death angel come out.

  I pulled his arm from me and stepped away over the cobbles, and he didn’t stop me. I turned to face him. Those dark, otherworldly wings still swooped behind him.

  He took a step closer to me, and my heart nearly stopped. Then, he simply walked past me, stalking off into the shadows by the Thames.

  Emptiness cut me open. In this world, Ruadan and Baleros were the only ones who knew the truth about me, and both reviled me.

  A hot tear spilled down my cheek, and I wiped it away. “I can still help you,” I called out. “I’ll help you defend the Institute.”

  No response. Only the dark, heavy quiet of the river.

  Chapter 99

  Mist curled around my new room, fogging up the window. I swiped my palm over the cold pane. From here, I had a distant view of the Institute, and the mist army patrolling it—my mist army, as I was quickly coming to think of them.

  For the past two days, my mist soldiers’ eerie presence had been enough to deter the human terrorists from trying to mob the Tower. And while the mist soldiers
had helped defend it, the Tower’s mages had rebuilt the golden moat.

  I had no idea what Ruadan had done with the Unholy Grail, or what he planned to do with it. We hadn’t spoken in days.

  As I stared out the window, Ciara sidled up to me, crossing her arms. “Aren’t you feeling a bit cooped up in here?” she asked. “You haven’t left in two days.”

  I hadn’t wanted to take my eyes off the Institute. It had been my home. Maybe I was no longer a Shadow Fae, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

  “I’m fine,” I said. “Just keeping an eye on things. What did you hear when you went out today? Did our ruse work?”

  “Our ruse?” she said. A not-so-subtle reminder that I was no longer a knight. “You mean the Shadow Fae plan to pin the blame on Baleros? The Sun already published an article about Baleros, right after a story about two soap stars who were falling out of their bikinis. They’re calling Baleros the Trenchcoat Terrorist.”

  I smiled. “Good. Perfect.”

  “Things seem to have calmed down a bit since you killed all the jackdaws,” she added.

  “Any sign of Baleros out there?” I asked.

  “I haven’t heard anything. Don’t you have your mist soldiers looking for him?”

  I loosed a long sigh, turning back into the center of the room. Three of the mist soldiers sat on the floor, staring into space. They were here to protect us and occasionally buy snacks. The rest I’d sent out on missions—hunting for Baleros, protecting the Institute. Only, it was hard to get information from them, seeing as they didn’t speak. I’d simply sent them out with the instructions to find a man who smelled of roses and wore the mark of Emerazel on his shoulder.

  “They haven’t turned anything up yet. One of them came back with a handful of roses, and I thought maybe he was trying to give me a message about having found Baleros, but after a while, it became clear that he’d been confused about the mission and thought I wanted roses.”

  “Well, I need some air,” said Ciara. “I’m going out for Kit-Kats.”

  “At this hour? Just send one of the mist guys.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t sleep if I don’t move around some. Anyway, you don’t need to worry about me anymore, on account of me being a fire demon.”

  “Fine. But take a mist guy with you.”

  “Whatever.”

  One of the soldiers rose from the floor, fog billowing around him. He followed Ciara out the door.

  I stared at the other two, now, wishing they could speak. I didn’t like the silence anymore. It felt like I’d been buried alive.

  I had hardly anything in the room to distract me. It was a step up from living under a car, like Ciara had, but it was basically an empty apartment. A bare, unheated living room with woodchip walls and an empty fireplace. An adjoining kitchen with a broken washer-dryer and a fridge that didn’t work. No furniture.

  I hadn’t spoken to Ruadan in days. I wasn’t a knight anymore, apparently, but he hadn’t tried to kill me. Had my mist soldiers gotten me off the kill list? Or had they moved me up it, since Ruadan wanted to control them?

  I had no idea what my current status was. Right now, I was in limbo.

  I stared out the window at the Institute again. This was beginning to feel a bit sad, frankly—my life on the outside, still obsessed with the palace.

  A pile of pillows and blankets lay in a corner of the room, and I crossed to them. I lay down, pulling one of the wool blankets on top of me. In this limbo world of mine, distinctions between daytime clothing and pajamas had no meaning. I just slept in the jeans and T-shirt I was already wearing.

  I frowned at the mist soldiers. “Can you guard outside the door? I can’t sleep with you staring at me there.”

  Once they left the room, I pulled off my bra and lay down on the blankets. I lay flat on my back, arms over my head, and I closed my eyes. As I drifted off, I thought of Ruadan’s fingertip stroking along my collarbone, sending an electric thrill pounding through my blood. I imagined his skin, the faint taste of salt on his neck. I licked my lips and reached under my T-shirt. My hands brushed over my hardening nipples.

  My skin heated, and my eyes opened. And when they did, my heart started to gallop out of my chest.

  Ruadan was there—standing above me, his pale violet eyes piercing the darkness. I pulled my hands out from under my shirt.

  “Are you here to kill me?” I asked breathlessly.

  “No.”

  Good. Because I wouldn’t want to have to unleash my dark side again. “Were you watching me while I slept?” I snapped. “Creep.”

  “I’m half-incubus. Creepily looming over people while they sleep is part of my nature.”

  “Have you come to ask me back to the Institute?”

  He shook his head, and my heart sank. “No.”

  “Then why are you here?” That rage erupted in my tone again. I couldn’t help how I’d been born.

  “The Unholy Grail. The Plague, contained in a chalice. It’s the ultimate bargaining chip.”

  “Okay. And?”

  “Its existence is a threat to every living creature on Earth. But only one person can destroy it. The person who made it.”

  I shook my head. “My father. Why would he have made a chalice like that?”

  “I guess we’ll find out.”

  Warmth flickered between my ribs. Was I going home? “So, you don’t want to kill him anymore.”

  “Destroying the Unholy Grail is our priority.”

  Cold. Clinical. An icy demon of the void.

  “You want to open the world again. The portal to my home,” I said quietly.

  My chest tightened. What would we find there? My father, alone? Left with no one but the people I’d killed all those years ago? Nothing but the bodies surrounding him?

  My father, the fallen angel, left in a world on his own, surrounded by death. I shouldn’t have left him there.

  I moved for Ruadan, so fast I didn’t know what I was doing. I gripped his forearms, fingernails digging into his flesh. “You have to take me to him, Ruadan.” It was the voice of my death angel, the voice of many.

  His calm, soothing magic whispered over me. “I need to be able to trust you.”

  “And I need to trust you.”

  No reply. Classic Ruadan.

  He plucked my hands off his arms. Then, with a furrow between his eyebrows, he reached into his cloak. He pulled out a wreath—one made of oak leaves and threaded with honeysuckle.

  He handed it to me.

  Shocked, I took it from him. “What does this mean?” I asked.

  He looked as confused as I was. I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen him look confused before. “I don’t know.”

  He rose, heading for the door.

  “Tomorrow, we find Adonis.”

  The door closed behind him.

  I turned to watch out the window until I saw the blur of dark wind through the night—Ruadan heading back to the Institute.

  The Grand Master might not like it, but he needed me. He needed my mist army. He needed me to speak to Adonis.

  I lifted the wreath to my head.

  Part IV

  Court of Dreams

  Court of Dreams

  Shadow Fae—Book Four

  C.N. Crawford

  Chapter 100

  Any minute now, Maddan would realize that I was standing about two feet away from him, watching as he pretended to do hot yoga.

  Right now, he was sliding his hand down his leg and sticking his bum out in a half-arsed stretch. It was clear he was deriving no inner peace from this class, nor improved flexibility. Based on the angle of his gaze and the revolting bulge in his shorts, his real goal here was to stare at women’s bums.

  The sight before me was basically a living nightmare, and there were few things I’d rather do less than watch the Prince of Elfame sweat into terrycloth bands while sporting a semi. I may have survived years in the gladiator ring, but there was only so much horror one woman could handle
in a lifetime.

  Sadly, I didn’t have a choice. Maddan had crucial information, and I needed to beat it out of him as soon as he stepped out the yoga studio door.

  Here was my current situation: I’d become a fugitive from the Institute, an enemy of the Shadow Fae. The knights now knew I was an angel of death. They understood that I’d hidden my true nature from them, and that I was a bit dangerous. Like, I could kill most of the earth’s population if I lost my temper. It seemed these facts vexed them.

  As a fugitive, I hadn’t slept in weeks. I’d been moving from one flat to another, snoozing only for a few minutes at a time. See, if I dreamt, they could find me.

  But even in my fevered state, I’d come up with a brilliant plan.

  I needed to prove I was one of the Shadow Fae, that I belonged in the Institute, and that they shouldn’t kill me. If I used Maddan to gather key information about the Institute’s enemies, I could demonstrate that I was still on their side. That I was still meant to fight alongside them.

  And then, I could sleep.

  I blinked, fighting fatigue. Maddan hunched over in a sad approximation of downward dog.

  Let the monster out to play….

  I bit my lip, trying to clear my thoughts. I was at the point of delirium where I’d actually started hearing voices—particularly the mocking voice of my old gladiator master, Baleros. If I figured out how to kill him, not only could I get back in the Institute’s good graces, but maybe I could silence his presence in my mind. Maddan could lead me to him, and I’d kill him. It all made perfect sense.

  My heart hammered against my ribs as I weighed my options. When I attacked the prince, I wouldn’t have any magic to work with. Not unless I wanted to unleash a set of black feathered wings and an outbreak of plague that would kill all of London.

  I stared at the ginger prince. I had only one weapon with me: a dagger strapped to my waist, just under my jersey. Maddan, on the other hand, had proper magical weapons. For one thing, he wore a lumen stone around his neck. That meant that if he got outside, into the darkness, he’d be able to leap away from me through the shadows.