Seelie (The Falcon Grey Files Book 1)

by Sarah Luddington

  “Damn it,” I muttered.

  “Go after him!” Bethan cried out. “You can’t lose him. If I ever saw a suicide mission in someone’s eyes it’s his.”

  “If I go after him you will die,” I snapped, before softening my tone. “Marcus must tread his own path, even if I am the one who put him on it.”

  “Falcon, it will kill you to lose him,” Bethan whispered.

  I gripped the steering wheel of the truck and straightened. “No, losing you would hurt much more because of my foolishness. Now, we need to think about what we are going to say to all these flashing lights,” I said with far more confidence than I was feeling.

  “Leave that to me,” Bethan said. “Just back me up.” She unbuckled her seatbelt and released the back door. The shouts of our Scottish counterparts filled the air and she slid out of the vehicle with her hands over her head. I followed suit on the other side of the truck and knelt in the snow once more, trying to look harmless.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “Grey, you bloody fool,” bellowed a voice I knew I needed.

  I’d been handcuffed again, this time in the metal ones, and people were shouting at me and Bethan.

  “Sir,” I said in relief. A rotund bundle of skiing gear waddled through the driving snow toward me and resolved itself into my chief.

  “You’ve some explaining to do,” he said, glaring up me from under a thick woolly hat.

  “Sorry, Sir,” I said. “We don’t really have much time to explain now though. I don’t suppose...” I asked silently for freedom by twisting to show him the handcuffs.

  “No, DI Grey, I don’t suppose anything of the kind,” he said. “You’ve pissed off everyone it’s possible to annoy. The locals want your badge and then your head. I’m thinking they probably deserve it and you owe us all a bloody huge explanation.”

  “Yes, Sir,” I said, trying for meek but feeling the Hunters out there somewhere and the monster, closing in on Bethan.

  “So?” Hoggart demanded.

  “It’s a long story,” I said.

  His eyes lit up with impending violence. “DI Grey. We have seen your flat, we have seen a crime scene in London which makes no sense. We have even found DC Dar’s vehicle – or what’s left of it and nothing adds up. Your flat is in shreds and so is Bethan’s car.”

  I felt my DC deflate beside me.

  “I have also seen the destroyed helicopter and what passes for a country cottage up here in the wilds. So I want everything if I am going to save you from our over-enthusiastic colleagues,” he snapped at me.

  “It’s all my fault,” I said.

  Bethan snorted. “It’s only his fault, Sir, because he’s been trying to save my life and we didn’t know who to trust on such short notice.”

  We both turned to look at her in surprise. Bethan, her hands cuffed in front of her, not behind, began to weave the most amazing story I’d ever heard. By the time she’d finished I believed Marcus was an old CI off the books from my days in the Vice Squad. He’d infiltrated a group of cultists based around this Slasher we were looking for. We were apparently closer than we thought and Marcus came to London to warn us she’d been targeted as the next victim because of me. We ran when they attacked the flat but we didn’t know who to trust because they have people everywhere and we needed to escape London.

  “Why Scotland?” Hoggart asked.

  Bethan looked at me and I realised she’d run out of ideas. “I know this is going to sound nuts but we were looking for a witch in that house. These people are into some seriously weird stuff and we needed to understand more about it. Marcus and I have followed a few cults during my time in Vice, so we came here looking for answers. We didn’t really find any except the fact that the base is here somewhere. When the helicopter fell out of the sky we just made for this place in the hope we’d stop the bad guys,” I said.

  “The Slasher’s base is up here?” Hoggart asked.

  “We think so, Sir,” I said. “Which is why we can’t find him in London.”

  “And the boy?” Hoggart asked.

  “Boy, Sir?” I swallowed hard.

  “Yes, DI Grey, the lad who died covered in your DNA which has been rushed through the strangely competent labs up here,” Hoggart said slowly, watching me.

  I felt myself flush and the words of confession were about to pour forth then Bethan stepped in front of me and actually pushed me away from our superior officer. “That’s my fault, Sir,” she said quietly.

  Hoggart focused his gimlet eyes on DC Dar. She continued quietly. “He was paid to seduce me and get me away from Falcon, DI Grey.”

  “He was a rent boy, you certain he wasn’t there to seduce DI Grey?”

  “No, Sir.” Bethan glanced up at me with a guilty expression. I stared at her, utterly mystified with what would come next. “We had an argument. I didn’t see the point in being up here. And DI Grey’s CI, Marcus Ursus, were lovers once and it made things a bit tense, so I left them and went to a nightclub. They then tried to find me because I didn’t believe I was the target. DI Grey found me, rescued me and we left the boy alive. I guess he’s another victim of this cult, Sir.”

  Hoggart’s left eye twitched spasmodically, trying to find the lie, but he didn’t really want to so chose to relax; we were two of his best people. “You and this Marcus?” he asked me.

  “Yes, Sir. Sorry. Unprofessional, I know but... It’s over.” I managed to say the words and they were just about the only thing in our story which was true.

  “Paperwork,” Hoggart threatened.

  I shivered, almost a convulsion. “Bethan,” I gasped.

  She stared at me. “What?”

  “It’s here,” I said.

  “What?” she said.

  Hoggart spoke but I couldn’t hear anything. The surge of power rushing through me knocked all my senses out of kilter. I toppled sideways and someone screamed something. Someone else with thick fingers fumbled at my wrists and my hands were free. I forced myself up.

  Bethan was bouncing in the snow, squeaking to be released. And then she was gone.

  I saw a blur of something darker than night and Bethan vanished from my sight.

  Every instinct I owned kicked in without thought. The otherworldly energy of the Seelie rushed outward and I shifted. I became the Hunter my enemies feared. I shed my humanity as if it were an old cloak. I ran after the monster who’d taken Bethan.

  The world blurred around me, the strobing lights now slow and making neon stripes on the snow. People were reacting to Bethan’s disappearance and mine because their minds couldn’t comprehend us moving too fast to focus on clearly. But however fast I moved, the creature moved more quickly. It was heading for the Tap o’Noth, it wanted to go home and it would be far easier taking a mortal through the thin veil at the top of the hill.

  I hit the bottom of the hill and raced up the side, my feet making light work of the snow and the imprints hardly visible. When I hit the top I saw the raised snow lying on an ancient ring-works and the small stones sticking out of the white powder, like jagged teeth. The creature sat in the middle of the circle, Bethan cradled in its arms, slumped, I hoped, in unconsciousness.

  For the first time I saw the monster who haunted my nightmares and had caused so much misery for the families of the victims.

  It squatted in the snow, its energy melting everything surrounding its body. The legs were long and corded with thin muscles. The haunches also thin. The skeleton under the grey flesh didn’t quite fit the human model. The torso’s length engulfed Bethan, but there was no spare fat on the body. I could see too many ribs and the hipbones flared high. Long thin arms clutched my friend like a teddy bear, stroking her head with long talons. The face made me step back slightly. The eyes were white orbs, shining slightly from the flat grey face. The nose was flared, turned up and very wide on the narrow skull. It reminded me of horses’ nostrils on an ugly monkey’s face. The ears were ragged, flared, bat-like and hair the same colour as the skin –
grey – cascaded down from the scalp in thick robes.

  It opened its mouth and hissed at me like a cat. The teeth were jagged and sharp, shark-like rather than needles. I couldn’t help myself, I hissed back, my own needle sharp teeth filling my changing mouth. Falcons didn’t have teeth but in my half form the true Seelie creature took over. Talons grew, blended from my fingers, replacing the fragile digits. The creature smiled and I think it laughed, a guttural chortle.

  “Release her and you will live,” I hissed, with real sibilance.

  The creature gnashed its teeth at me and its face portrayed its intention. Its palm held the crown of Bethan’s head, ready to twist it off, and it drew in her scent, cooing in happiness now it had its prize. I covered the ground between the edge of the stone circle and the creature in a blink, my entire body a lithe, strong and flexible weapon. I leapt, twisted and planted both size twelve feet in the monster’s head. It swiped upward and caught my back with its claw, instantly shredding my clothes and skin.

  I dropped, rolled and blended with the ground, rising effortlessly, the pain a distant problem for later. Bethan now lay on the ground and the creature finally considered me a threat. Its long legs moved it around her body in the crouched stance, so it wouldn’t lose control. I felt hot wetness down my back and steam rose around me.

  Killing this thing with a physical attack didn’t feel like an option. I’d hit it with enough strength to cave any other Seelie’s head into a flat ball, but this thing didn’t have a dent.

  It hissed at me and one of its long claws dug into Bethan’s thigh. She screamed – awake now and terrified.

  I couldn’t think of anything but her plight. I ran at the creature and launched into an attack of tooth and claw. It merely raised an arm and smacked me in the chest. I flew past the creature and Bethan, turning in the air as if I were a spinning fly, swatted by a smack. I came down against a stone, the rock far harder than my ribs, they gave way loudly.

  “Birdie going to die if he doesn’t do something clever,” said a small helpful voice.

  I tried to breathe. “Gif...” I gasped. “Help.”

  Small hands sat me up. “You need to fight it with this?” She tapped my head. “Burn it with raw power, Birdie.”

  I stared at her. “Raw power? I’ll fry my sanity.”

  Gifling’s thin lips pressed together tightly and she stared at me with sympathy. “Save pretty girl, Birdie. I will hold you to the earth but I cannot promise what will happen after. The grumpy bear needs you. Use them.” She pointed. Outside the circle I saw the shadows of the Hunters and Sayta stepped forward. We shared a moment of complete understanding and he closed his eyes. I saw him shift form, becoming the shadow of the boar, and open himself to his Crown Prince. Light poured from him.

  I wasn’t going to waste it. I held Gifling’s hand and with my left palm extended I reached for the light Sayta offered. I drew it in and other Hunters stepped forward, men and women I knew well, at least half of the shadowy forms surrounding the hilltop were willing to fight for me. They all shifted, opened and gave me raw energy. I drew all that white light into my body, my own life force joining the different strands together to form a coherent whole. The grey creature before me shrieked and pulled Bethan back against its body. She yelled for me, reaching out like a terrified child. I felt my form expand, every cell, every atom, charged with power from the Hunters, and from the sluggish earth beneath our feet. I drew it all into me and prayed it would be enough.

  The Hunters raised their heads and cried out to the heavens, some fainting I stole so much of their essence. The creature tried to escape back to Elfhame, but I understood now – I knew how to bring it down. Long lashes of white light sprang from my body and arced in a form of personal lightning toward the monster. The light wrapped the creature up, in endless whips of my power.

  “Slugh,” I bellowed. “I, Crown Prince of the Elfhame, banish you to the darkest places of Hel. You are bound to me and my word from this moment onward and you will not be used by anyone but me. You are my monster now, Slugh, and I order you to return to your pit.” The light grew in intensity, blooming in brightness to become incandescent. Slugh, now named and by my hand chained, screamed in rage and pain. As I forced the lightshow to grow tighter about its limbs and torso, Slugh began to surrender.

  I felt its mind, the endless drive for victims, the savage need to find the right scent and its joy when its task was done. But it also loved the kill, the blood, the pain and torture. It liked to watch the weak break under its care. It liked to feel and taste all that terror. It wanted my heart on its tongue even as I closed down its mind. I reached out, and for the first time in my long life I tore open the fabric separating the human world from Elfhame. A savage white slash, like the tortured grin of a madman in clown makeup, opened and through it I saw the dark void of Elfhame’s source. I raised my hand and, as if a conjurer on the Las Vegas strip, I dragged the struggling Slugh from the ground. I gestured outward and forced the foul creature toward the tear in the veil. It screamed its defiance and loathing but could not resist the pull of Elfhame. Magic calls to magic and it seems to have its own gravity. The Slugh could not resist the drawn of Elfhame’s power once I’d risen it toward the rift, so the creature vanished, swallowed by the darkness of creation. The bonds of light holding the creature would see it returned to its prison.

  I yanked on more power, drawing it from Elfhame in a thick stream of white light; I had one more task before me. From the Hunters who’d helped me, I gave back from Elfhame what I’d taken from them when I’d torn the veil in the first place. The gift of their energy returned with gentle persuasion. Once gifted they began to fold themselves back into their world, vanishing one by one. I drew the light back to me and refocused my attention – those who hadn’t offered me aid were now my enemies.

  “Remember this the next time you choose to stand against your Prince,” I shouted over the noise of the storm still raging around the circle. The light rushed forth once more and struck all those who’d done nothing to help and everything to hurt, either through being complicit in Marcus’ fate or trying to catch me now. They all screamed. Some tried to fight me, to erect shields, to hit me back but power from the oldest and darkest part of the Seelie world joined forces with the darkest parts of my own soul and the outlet would not be stopped.

  Hunters either died or vanished back to Elfhame. Those I’d spared but had yet to leave, knelt before me, eyes downcast in submission to their Prince.

  I felt something annoying pulling on my right hand. It tugged so hard I stumbled, severing connections all over the place.

  “Birdie, stop now. Enough of old Elfhame. You needed here,” snapped Gifling.

  I raised my hand to swat her away. She bared her teeth at me and bit hard into my hand.

  I lost control of everything. The world tilted. The night sky crashed onto my head, smothering me, and I vanished.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  “Falcon, Fal!” Small hands and a panicking voice. “God, please, don’t be dead!”

  I drew a breath in and it hurt. I whimpered.

  “Birdie, up, you have to go.” Gifling yanked at my short hair. It hurt – everything hurt.

  “Can’t,” I whispered.

  Gifling’s hand clamped tight around my head and she closed her eyes. Her deep connections to the land, both here and Elfhame, poured into me and forced the pain back. A long way back. Like being given morphine after an operation. Her whispering power was vast and heavier than mine but familiar.

  She wobbled, clutching her head like an old world Holly-wood dame fainting onto a divan. “Birdie too big for Gifling.”

  “Steady, I don’t want you passing out on us,” I said, helping her sit next to me. I glanced around us and watched the last of the Hunters, Sayta, fold themselves back into Elfhame. He smiled as the swirling, spinning light grew around him, I simply watched him vanish. I did not want to be the man Elfhame needed so badly.

  In order to stop th
e screaming beginning in my head, I turned back to my true friend. “Bethan? Are you alright?”

  “I’m okay,” she said and burst into tears. Blood – hers – stained the ground. No snow now covered the top of the hill. I pulled her into my body and we held each other for moments. I kissed her head repeatedly.

  We heard sirens and more helicopters. I lifted her face toward me. “I have to go. I have to follow this up and stop my sister. She won’t give up and I must finish this,” I said quietly, meaning I had to save Marcus.

  “I’ll cover for you,” she said. “You’ve been taken by the cult. I couldn’t stop them. Come back, Falcon, please.” She lifted her lips to mine and kissed me, surprising me. “Stay alive.”

  I brushed hair from her face, the black very stark against her now pale skin. “I’ll come back,” I whispered and I took advantage of her sudden emotional vulnerability, kissing her deeply.

  Gifling pulled me away from Bethan, forcing me up on my feet. “I’m fucked,” I said to my small friend, the blood still trickling down my back and my breathing hurting.

  “Not fucked, just hurt,” Gifling said happily. “Take us home, Crown Prince.”

  I grunted and closed my eyes. Wherever the energy came from for fighting the Slugh I no longer felt it and I could no longer reach through the veil.

  “Your sister,” Gifling said with utter lucidity, “is currently burning holes in Marcus’ pelt. He is screaming in agony.”

  Power rippled outward from the core of my being and I reached into the essence of life, the matter of the world and took it apart with my thoughts. From the inside it looked far more dramatic than it felt. My body tingled, the lights I saw on others now looking like motes of fairy dust, a mass of swirling, chaotic beauty, rippling upward, covering me and Gifling quickly. The tingling grew and I saw the slither of Elfhame, the fabric briefly tearing as if made of silk. The lights drew me into the tear, a momentary feeling of being sucked through a tight tube and an audible pop.