by Brie Tart
“‘Sadistic Vultures’ is more fittin’.” Maggie spat like she were warding off an evil presence. “He’s a right bastard, and from first I saw him, I never liked him. He’s not got much in the way o’ raw power, but he’s good at makin’ strong allies. He’s managed to charm the reignin’ queen into keepin’ him in her bed and appointin’ him her right hand—in charge o’ cleanin’ up scandals that might expose fae and commandin’ her network o’ agents and assassins. It’s the only reason she didn’t execute him for tryin’ to make his own Unseelie Queen.”
“I thought the Unseelie Queen…” Helen bit back the rest of the question. If she wanted to pass as an actual Unseelie, she had to talk like them. What had the dapper man said earlier? “I mean the Dark Queen. Isn’t she the only one that does the making?”
“That’s the way she likes it.” Maggie pursed her lips at Helen. “Have ye really not heard how Nicnevin rose to power?”
“She likes her privacy a bit too much,” Yoel cut in quick. “The story goes, Miss Harper, that Nicnevin started off as a simple witch of the Highlands. She’d gained considerable power from what she studied under various wise women and druids. However, she sought higher abilities that only natural born fae could harness. She schemed her way among the Sìth nobility and used their knowledge to invent a way to become a fae herself. From then on, she created others to serve her, made alliances with other dark aligned forces, and founded the Unseelie Court.”
“And she made sure she’s the only one alive who knows how it works. But a few decades ago, Lord Ailpien figured he’d risk war and try findin’ the secret for himself.” Maggie shuddered. “One Nicnevin is bad enough. I’ll have the one or none at all.”
“You know what he did?” Helen hung on every word from the freckled witch’s mouth. Had this info killed Uncle Tommy?
“Worse, he dragged me into it.” Maggie scratched Teague’s scruff harder than ordinary cats would tolerate. “He went ‘round for a few years collectin’ any witch he could get his hands on. From old changelings like me, to basic new age believers. He put us through everythin’ he could so we would change ourselves like Nicnevin did. Bribes, torture, things I won’t repeat. I refused to cooperate. Many o’ the others tried. None ever succeeded as far as I know. Teague helped me escape with as many as I could gather. The Seelie Queen swore me and a few others to secrecy. She wiped the minds o’ the rest.”
“Were there any who showed potential?” Yoel asked.
“Me and one more.” Maggie went quiet until Teague tapped his pink nose to her cheek. “She was the sweetest lass ye could meet. Always tellin’ stories ‘bout her overprotective brother and wild bairn back home. Then Lord Ailpien got his hands on her. She went quiet and hard until she started pourin’ over the magic tomes he left for us. At first, she asked me for help understandin’ them so she could find a way out. I already knew our only hope lay in waitin’ for Teague, but saw no harm in teachin’ her. Once she conquered the basics, she asked clever and insightful ‘what ifs’. When I realized what they added up to, that she wanted to try, I stopped answerin’. She was one o’ those who made it out with me when Teague came. I assumed she lost her memories with the rest.”
Helen clenched her fingers so tight her knuckles were white. “What’s her name?”
“Called herself Ellie, short for Elaine I think.” Maggie tapped her chin in thought. “Her family name had somethin’ to do with knives.”
Elaine Carver. Her mom.
CHAPTER 13
“Thanks for the info, Freckles.” Helen massaged the scar inside of her palm with her thumb. Knowing why her mother went missing didn’t offer the closure it should, only more questions. Why had Ellie Carver made Helen into this? Had her mother meant to keep her human, or make her a full fledged fae? A headache joined her lingering nausea the deeper she went down that rabbit hole. “But you didn’t hear about us asking.”
“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, lass.” Maggie scratched Teague’s ear. The cat examined Helen with an unblinking stare. “Any secrets of Yoel’s and his friends I forget right quick.”
“Last thing I wanna know is how to find this guy.” Helen avoided the cat’s glowing blue eyes.
The dull chatter going on outside the bubble Maggie had put around them died to dead silence. Maggie looked toward the cafe entrance without another word. Her cat hissed with pointy hackles and jumped to stand on the witch’s shoulders. Helen pinched her eyebrows at Yoel as her gut flipped, and he frowned back at her. They turned too.
A lithe man a good foot taller than Helen ducked through the open door in a smooth motion. Everything from his flowing exotic costume to his finite gestures had the innate grace of a marble statue. The way his chestnut hair hung around his cheeks and the layers of gold feathers accenting his tan attire softened his sharp features. He let the door swing shut on its own while he stopped, like the star of a play pausing so the audience could admire him.
Larger Seelie in the lobby all bowed their heads with reverence, while the shorter ones shrank into their shoulders as if trying to disappear. The couple of Unseelie by the windows were harder to read. The woman with the blank face seemed unphased, but her bag wrinkled into a leathery grimace. The man with the weird lump in his pants curled his lip.
“Git out o’ my place, Owl Lord,” Maggie commanded as she rose from her chair and set her fists on her hips. The cafe walls pulsed with every thick syllable.
That was him, Ailpien. Helen’s blood pumped faster as she memorized and marked him. Something in her screamed “Mine.” It was hostile and feral, like a wolf claiming a specific kill among a herd. He was responsible for Uncle Tommy’s and her mom’s deaths in some way. He wanted to capture her for his own twisted reasons. Instinct claimed him, despite those extra motivations.
Yoel grabbed her forearm and held her against the sofa with reserves of strength she’d never seen from him before. The message was clear: don’t try it.
“A changeling witch hasn’t the authority to command me.” Ailpien waved toward Teague. “Your exiled pet has more status than you ever will.”
Teague’s backside wiggled like when he threatened the dapper Unseelie.
“Touch me, and I’m very confident her luminous majesty would be happy to rescind any protective orders on your beloved witch.”
The cat growled as he curled his tail around Maggie’s neck.
“Ye got a big head since her majesty pardoned ye,” Maggie said as she tilted her chin up at the much taller figure. “Mark me, her favor’s not goin’ to last forever. You’re not the official consort and you’re barely on the reignin’ council. Easy to replace. Give it another century or two, and you’ll get yer comeuppance.”
“I could report you for spreading rebellious gossip.” Ailpien’s black pupils narrowed to slits inside his clear silver irises. “I am guiltless of any past crimes, by the Queen of Light’s own decree.”
“Bullshit,” Helen muttered under her breath. She locked her jaw shut as soon as the thought came out.
Yoel tugged Helen up and hurried her away from the sofa, keeping to the outer edge of the lobby.
“Someone has an opinion?” Ailpien’s attention followed them.
Yoel yanked Helen behind him. “Only a sneeze, m’lord.”
“A mortal taints this meeting ground?” Ailpien squinted at Yoel’s face. The corners of his eyes and forehead didn’t wrinkle like they should.
“Paying a short visit.” Yoel offered a curt bow of his head. “I see it’s a bad time. I’ll try back later.”
“Who are you, mortal?”
“I’m an overly curious student who knows how to keep secrets.” Yoel’s tone stayed even as he fired off his answer, but his fingers dug into Helen’s forearm behind his back.
“Name yourself.” Ailpien lifted his open palm. Dim energy buzzed inside it. “Or must I wring it from you?”
“State yer business and stop pesterin’ my customers.” Maggie snapped her fingers. Whatever Ailpien
conjured snuffed out.
“Very well, I suppose I mustn’t tarry too long.” Ailpien turned to face the crowd at large. He extended his arms like he wanted to hug all the onlookers. “I come this day to offer a boon to any fae bold enough to fetch me a criminal. A charge of mine has been slain, Ewan the Witty Blade. The High Queen of the True Fae has vowed to assist me in fulfilling this reward.”
Every fine hair on Helen’s body stood up. She tugged at the heart charm and patted the blunt ends of her hair curling around her jaw. The disguise was still in place, and he wouldn’t know that she’d done it, right? The only person who’d seen her kill Ewan was Ewan himself...and maybe a couple dozen pedestrians who’d seen her fleeing the scene.
The taller fae in the lobby straightened at that, while the little ones peeked around them. Maggie leaned forward with interest, and Teague’s twitching tail went still. Yoel lifted his eyebrows, apparently surprised. Ailpien’s offer had to be juicy to draw that much notice.
“What sort of boon, Lord of Far Seeing Owls?” A twiggy man with a clipped Germanic voice rose from the middle of the crowd. He wore pressed shades of white that blended with his pale coloring, and pointed ears peeked from under his long hair. He must be the other top type of fae, a Light Elf.
“An open favor.” Ailpien smiled as conspiratory whispers and awed gasps filled the dining area. “A gift to any one fae who delivers this killer to me alive.”
“No matter their allegiance?” The question came from the Unseelie woman’s bag. She picked up the purse and propped it in her lap. Its leather faded into a woman’s severed head with black hair and sunken cheeks. The identical, expressionless face attached to the body dissolved, leaving her neck empty.
“Whether you swear yourself to the High Queen of True Fae, or the Pretender,” Ailpien confirmed.
“Who do you seek?” The elf flourished his hand. A browned piece of curling paper appeared in it. Then a quill materialized in his other hand, and he readied its tip for note taking. “And what clues might you have to finding them?”
Yoel pulled Helen along the outer wall, leading toward the entrance behind Ailpien. Helen hurried with him as her blood rushed in her ears.
“I know not the murderer’s name or title.” Ailpien reached inside a pouch in his belt and took out a small silver disk. When he stretched two ends of the circle, it extended like hot taffy into a large mirror as long as his arm span. It hovered in front of him on its own. The air around it hummed with invisible energy. “The human onlookers whose memories were gathered by the High Queen’s guard captured her appearance. A fearsome fae creature by the looks of it.”
Helen froze in mid step. Yoel jerked to a stop with her.
The room went quiet. Everything with legs got to their feet. That Light Elf scribbled away at his scroll. The Unseelie guy grew a pair of fuzzy ears that pricked, while the headless woman lifted her unattached face over everyone else in front of her.
Ailpien waved over his mirror, and the reflection’s colors blended together like Lucy’s fingerpaints. They rearranged themselves into a day-lit alley whose walls cast long shadows over the pavement. A buff woman in blue jeans, a tank top, and leather boots charged forward with her black hair streaming behind her. Red light danced off her like flames as she thrust out a shadowy sword. She was wrath personified with her teeth bared in a war cry.
Helen remembered that moment with stark clarity. Lucy was nowhere in the background, and that weapon was supposed to be a rusty ladder rung with chipping paint. That sword seemed like volcanic glass surrounded by smoky darkness, nothing she had ever used.
The guy with the furry ears scrambled back to the windows, and a quivering donkey tail fell out from under his pants. The Unseelie woman clutched her severed head to her chest and shrieked. A collective gasp came from the gathered Seelie and they broke into gossip. Theories about the Unseelie breaking the treaty and a Hellhound murdering one of the Seelie’s own filled the cafe.
Yoel’s face turned sickly as the color drained from it. His grip on Helen’s arm tightened to a vice, his nails digging hard. “That can’t be what it seems.”
“Sweet Mother and all her children.” Maggie fell back into her chair and fanned herself. Teague’s hackles stayed high.
Helen bit her lip, unsure how she should react. The couple of remaining Unseelie crept along the edges of the crowd and snuck for the door as fast as they could whoosh through the room’s shadows.
“I will keep this mirror on my person until the killer is brought forth.” Ailpien took the ends of the mirror, folded them together like a suitcase, and slid it back into his pouch. The hunk of silver went right in. “If you hear a rumor, see someone you suspect, or have her captive and ready, scry me and I will answer.”
“We should be off Miss Ca-Harper.” Yoel let go of Helen and tucked his hands in his coat pockets as he headed toward the door.
Helen followed after him, keeping pace as she glanced over her shoulder and made sure nobody followed. Only a few more feet and they could leave.
“Did I say you could leave, mortal?” Ailpien called from behind them. He looked past Helen to the retreating Yoel. “You still haven’t told me your name.”
Yoel stopped, a step away from freedom. He didn’t turn around just yet, but his fingers curled around something in his pocket. Helen would bet money he’d stored an artifact or a small firearm in there.
Yoel was stuck between a frying pan and a fire, talking and running. Helen could leave him while Ailpien was preoccupied and continue on her own. That idea rubbed her wrong. She’d stuck her neck out for a few criminals who didn’t deserve what they got. How would she live with herself if she didn’t do that for someone she considered a friend?
“He don’t gotta tell you nothin’, Shiny.” Helen blocked Yoel with her own body, stepping between Ailpien and him.
“And what gives you that authority, abomination?” Ailpien walked up to her in a couple of long strides. He got so close, Helen had to lift her chin to look him in the eyes.
“‘Cause he’s mine.” Helen squared her shoulders and straightened her back as tall as it would go. That fire in her veins started up, pumping hard and making her skin warm. “Back off.”
“I wasn’t aware the Pretender’s brood were allowed to have pets of their own.”
“If you Seelie bastards can have ‘em, why can’t the Unseelie?” Helen planted her fists on her hips, her nostrils flaring.
“Very well, then I’ll ask you the same question, little mistress.” Ailpien loomed over her, using every inch of height advantage he had. “What is his name and what does he do?”
“None of your damn business.” Helen’s nausea started turning to adrenaline.
“Och, both of ye take it outside,” Maggie called, and Teague backed it up with a yowl of warning.
“Mistress, don’t you have an appointment at midnight?” Yoel pulled open the door. “If we leave now, we may make it in time.”
“Yes, slither away.” Ailpien pinched his nose with a lily white handkerchief from his bottomless belt pouch. “This ground is better off untainted by your kind.”
Helen debated socking him square in his pretty jaw to see if it would break. Her arm tensed in response. Attacking him would be stupid, and put Yoel at even more risk. The temptation lingered, though, growing stronger the longer she entertained it. Red haze expanded over her vision.
“Oh? Another of the Pretender’s pups so far from home?” Both Ailpien’s eyebrows went up.
The gossip volume dropped to wary, suspicious muttering.
Helen looked down at her fist. Her skin shifted with subtle tints of flickering reds, oranges, and yellows. She almost matched what Ailpien just broadcasted from his mirror.
“Mistress, your appointment,” Yoel said through gritted teeth.
Helen backed away toward the door, not turning her back until she had to.
Ailpien gave her a Cheshire Cat grin as she swiveled around and walked out.
CHAPTER 14
“What the hell just happened?” Helen tugged at her heart charm necklace and felt for the latch. Anything hanging around her neck itched, and she couldn’t stand the thought of garroting herself on excess jewelry.
“Don’t touch that yet.” Yoel’s mouth was still tight. His eyes were wide, his complexion sallow. “I’ll explain everything when we get back.”
Helen’s Harley came into sight. She breathed a sigh of relief nobody had come through the area and picked it up for parts. Her gut jumped. They were far enough away from the cafe that there shouldn’t be any more Seelie energy bugging her. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as she picked up her pace.
“Grab on tight.” Helen mounted the motorcycle, not bothering to reach for the helmets.
Yoel climbed on and held her waist. She revved the engine to life and took off faster than she should, her rear tire squealing against the pavement. Yoel clung on for dear life. Anything he said got lost between the roar of the bike and the honking of horns as Helen whizzed through traffic. She found her way to an empty side road leading toward an old industrial district. It was a detour Yoel might nag her about when she felt safe enough to go to his store. But that sour twisting in her stomach stayed with her, like something fae was following behind them.
Helen broke every speed limit on those backroad shortcuts she knew so well. Yoel leaned with her on every corner. She slowed down when an abandoned factory on the sparsely lit street came into sight—Tommy’s favorite eyesore. In the light of day, it was a hulking brick skeleton covered in neon graffiti. Night time made it a black silhouette with jagged edges, like a gothic castle in the middle of the Midwest. She coasted until she found the empty remains of a yawning doorway with a chunk missing. She slipped under it into a wide open assembly room with debris and steel bars scattered around in heaping piles.
Helen’s acid attack turned to aggressive heat as her Unseelie instinct kicked in. She turned the bike, put the kickstand down, and swung off to face whatever assailant had followed them.
