“I was planning on supplementing this week's supply with some of our backup,” he said coldly. “Backup that no longer exists, seeing as that cabinet is now empty.” I looked down at my knees and nodded. I had been supplying Rachel with fae blood for months now and without it, we didn't have the proper ingredients to create a physical glamour.
“Then we'll just have to wait for Anelie,” I said, referring to our current supplier. Anelie was an Unseelie court runaway. For most, that would be akin to a death sentence, but Anelie had managed to stay under their radar by trading some of her blood for magic from Corey. It was a situation that worked well for everyone, but we had no contact information for Anelie; she just showed up every other Sunday at midnight. She was unwilling to trust us with her personal information for fear of her fellow fae, and she had a right to be scared. I had seen for myself what the Unseelie were capable of if you pushed their buttons.
“Anelie is dead.” This from Corey. A chill crept up my spine. This is why he'd been strung so tightly last night. Anelie had never showed up. Damn, damn and double damn.
“What? How?” I was shocked. Had the Unseelie finally … ?
“The Coalition of the Righteous Living.” I'd never heard the name before, but I was willing to take a wild guess.
“The people who have been stalking me?” I asked. I hadn't quite made the connection at the library last night, but I was willing to bet that those people had been a part of the group that had been harassing us recently. I am so fucking stupid. Being around Rachel really messed with my head.
“Not just you,” Elizabeth snapped, her pale blue eyes icy, reminding me of the man who had climbed into her window.
“Why Anelie?” I asked, confused. She wasn't undead; she was fae.
“Because she was helping us,” Corey stated flatly. “They killed her for giving us her blood. We already know they can sense the undead, the question is, how? I need both of you to help me, but I can't do that unless we can go out in public. We need another donor.” I shifted in my chair, the plastic squeaking beneath me and waited for him to continue. “We're going through that faerie ring.” If I had been alive, my blood would have gone cold at that statement. As things stood, I was mentally knocked flat.
“You're kidding, right?” I asked him, leaning forward, anxious to hear his response. Rachel had told me all kinds of stories about faerie rings and the Unseelie court in particular, none of which were particularly nice. Corey frowned and stood up.
“No, I'm not. And this subject is not up for debate.” He looked pointedly at Elizabeth who turned abruptly away and began to float towards the ceiling.
“Make me,” she stated. It was a simple statement, but with Corey it took on a whole other meaning. His green eyes flashed once, sparking with his magic for just an instant before it hit Elizabeth. The necromancy pulled her under his spell, dragging her from the ceiling to the floor by the force of his will. She glared daggers at him but kept her mouth shut, whether by his magic or her own volition, I wasn't sure.
“Someone needs to stay and watch the house, right?” I asked, subtly attempting to volunteer for the position. Corey kept his eyes locked on Elizabeth as he answered.
“I've already asked Lynna to take care of that for us. She's the only one that can handle visitors as of right now.” Another barb meant specifically for me. I took a deep, shuddering breath and nodded.
“I understand. When do we leave?” Corey released Elizabeth from his spell, and I watched in satisfaction as she hovered away from him to crouch in the corner. It was a mental roller coaster to be under the direct control of necromancer, even for just a second. They had your very soul in the palm of their hand and could will you to do anything, anything for them. It was horrid. And the thought of Elizabeth suffering like that made me smile. God, I hated her. Corey turned towards me, face stoic.
“Tonight.” I couldn't say I was shocked, but I felt my anxiety skyrocket. “I'll make all of the necessary preparations. All I need you to do is stay out of trouble until after dark. Can you do that for me?” I nodded slowly, avoiding his eyes as he continued to stare at me in silence for several moments. “And call your mother before we leave before she calls the police again.” My mother had a terrible habit of trying to file a missing persons report whenever she hadn't spoken to me for more than two days. “I left your phone in my room,” he said, giving Elizabeth yet another glare before turning and leaving the two of us alone.
“I hate you,” she snarled floating up towards the ceiling again. “This is all your fault.” Her body disappeared as she passed seamlessly through the paint and wood as easily as if it were air. I ignored her and pushed myself up slowly, feeling like a very, very old woman. My joints creaked and groaned in protest as I made my way out of the living room and back up the stairs.
My phone was lying next to Rachel's broken one on Corey's nightstand. I hazarded a quick glance at the door, but there was no one around to see me. I flipped the phone open and stared at the darkened screen in disappointment. It was dead. “I hate technology.” I threw the useless piece of plastic on the floor and forced myself to grab my own phone. My mother answered on the first ring.
“Georgette? Is that you? Thank god. I was just about to call Kevin.” Kevin was an officer at the local precinct; my mother was on a first name basis with many of the cops there.
“I'm fine, Mom, I just had a late night last night.” She harrumphed into the phone, and I heard the distinct clinking of china.
“You sound terrible, absolutely dreadful. Are you ill?” She didn't wait for me to answer. “I was just about to make myself some tea, but it's so difficult with just the one hand, Georgette,” she said, referring to her recent wrist surgery. “If only I had someone here to help me with this. Not to mention the vacuuming and the kitty litter.” I rolled my eyes and pretended not to hear her.
“Mom, I – ”
“I guess I'll just sit here alone since you and your sister can't be bothered to come and see me every once in awhile.” She neglected to mention the fact that I had seen her about three days ago.
“Mom, I can't. I'm – ” rotting, bloated, a corpse. “Going out of town for a few days.” Which was true, in a way.
“I see. You didn't mention this to me the other day. Is this last minute? Is there something wrong?”
I gave all of our fae blood to a banshee, so she could keep up her glamour and remain this side of the veil, and now our supplier's been killed by a radical religious group, so I've got to cross over into another dimension to get some more.
“No, Mom, everything is fine. It's just a business trip for Corey.” My mother thought Corey was a funeral director, go figure. The lie was made out of necessity since she had discovered a coffin in the back of his van by measure of her extreme nosiness.
“I see. Well, come by and see me on your way out of town. Love you.” Click. Conniving bitch. I wasn't going to see her. I couldn't, even if I wanted to. I set the phone back on the nightstand and took a deep breath. Now what? I had a lot of time to kill these days. Ironic since there was little that I could actually do in this state. Glamour. I put my face in my hands. I needed that fucking glamour. Why did I do it? Because I love her. I sighed and stared at the creepy portrait on the wall. It was one of Corey's paintings. A very pale woman in white, eyes solid black, like pits, and lips blue. A wraith. Corey liked to paint a portrait of everything he raised. I didn't know why, but I found it kind of disturbing. He wouldn't explain it to me either. I tried not to think too much about it. It was just one of his many eccentricities, I supposed. It wasn't like I could complain either. I was a zombie. A dead girl who drowned in a swimming pool. A dead girl who had been drowned in a swimming pool. I shuddered and pushed the memory back. Thinking about it wouldn't help. I was speaking from experience. I had thought about it plenty. All it ever did was make me sick.
I jumped when I noticed Corey watching me from the hall, his finely muscled arms crossed in front of his chest. I felt a thri
ll of sexual excitement followed by a wave of guilt. We wouldn't be able to touch each other for a long time and all because of me. “Corey,” I started, but he interrupted me.
“You're lucky, George.” The smile on his lips was positively wicked, and I almost screamed with joy when I saw the tiny glass bottle that he pulled from his jeans pocket. The red inside swirled around and coated the inside of the glass as he turned it around in his hand several times before beckoning me into the hallway and pushing off from the wall. I followed him, trying not to gloat when I saw Elizabeth's head poking out from her bedroom door. I waved at her and she frowned at me.
“Where are you going, Corey?” He ignored her question and opened the door to his workshop. The smell of magic was overpowering, like a combination of fresh Darjeeling and allspice. I breathed it in as deeply as I could and tried not to cry when a death rattle shook my chest. My body was literally falling apart, and we still were no closer to finding a 'cure' than we'd been six months ago. Six months ago when Corey had pulled my limp body from my lover's backyard swimming pool and used his magic to animate me. He hadn't expected this.
A zombie with a soul.
I was an unprecedented abnormality in the world of necromancy, but unfortunately for me, necromancers didn't speak much with one another. Corey had no one to consult and no clue about what to do with me. He promised that he would find out, and I believed him. I had to. There was nobody else.
I closed the heavy wooden door behind me, wishing all the while that it was enough to keep Elizabeth out.
She floated through the wall, face squinched, her blonde curls glossy and full. Even incorporeal, she was beautiful. It was annoying as hell.
“What's going on?” Elizabeth whined, twirling around in small circles as if the air were water and she was taking a leisurely swim. Her body passed through the glass tubes, beakers, and bottles that lined the massive, rough-hewn poplar tables before coming to rest on one of Corey's tome lined bookcases.
“None of your concern,” was all he said as he kept his back to her. I watched him pull jars of herbs and liquids from the glass cabinet in front of him. “Go back to your room.” I appreciated the fact that he was trying to avoid a scene, but it was too late. Elizabeth knew.
“You're making a glamour for her?!” she screeched in a voice as cold and cutting as ice. “After she went and stole our supply? You're helping her?” With each octave her voice rose, and so did she, until the bow she was wearing in her hair was partially obscured by the ceiling. “I can't believe this.”
“Well, believe it,” Corey snapped as he pulled the lid from a jar of dried leaves and sniffed. His nose twitched for a moment and he set the jar down without removing any of its contents. “George stinks. I can't take her before the Seelie Queen looking or smelling like that.” I tried to pretend that the mention of his former fae lover didn't upset me. It did. A lot. And now I was going to have to meet her and beg for her protection. This wasn't going to be a very fun outing.
I crossed my arms and tried not to make any sounds. I didn't want Elizabeth to focus her rage at me.
“But she stole from you, Corey. For her girlfriend.” She spat the word out as if it had hurt her tiny, perfect pink lips to say it. Corey ignored her and poured a substantial amount of an amber liquid into the beaker. It oozed down the sides of the jar and into the phial in long, sticky strands. I watched it closely, trying to remember the little bit of alchemy that Corey had tried to teach me. Ash tree sap. I smiled, feeling proud of myself.
“You see,” Elizabeth squalled pointing one of her tiny hands at me. “She's smiling about it. She's happy that I have to suffer.” Corey glanced at me over his shoulder, his thin lips pursed. Sometimes he reminded me of an angry father with his children. I glared back at him, daring him to say something. I really didn't want to have to think of him like that.
“Ash tree sap, right?” I asked, changing the subject.
“No!” Elizabeth floated down and pressed her body into Corey's. It was a cheap trick and one that really got my blood boiling.
“Get out of him!” I yelled back, finally losing my temper. I could only handle so much of Elizabeth. She might have been in her twenties, but she still acted like the twelve year old girl that she appeared to be. Elizabeth smirked at me and pressed her flat chest into Corey's.
“What's the matter, Georgie? I thought you liked girls.” I launched myself at her. It was reflexive but stupid. I couldn't touch her, no matter how hard I tried. I ended up slamming into Corey just as Elizabeth twirled away, giggling. Corey dropped the jar of willow with a curse and the thin little leaves flurried to the polished wood floor.
“I – I'm sorry,” I mumbled as Corey whirled and grabbed me around the arms. He was squeezing hard enough that I was glad I couldn't feel pain.
“Georgette,” he ground out. “You're an adult, act like one.” He released me with a start and bent down to pick up the leaves. “Both of you, get out.”
Elizabeth beamed, eyes glinting with victory. I couldn't wait for her next glamour; I was going to wrap my hands around her corporeal little neck and squeeze until her face turned blue.
I stomped from the room ahead of her and slammed the door as hard as I could, grinning in satisfaction when I heard a tinkling of glass and a curse. Serves him right.
CHAPTER THREE
LURIKEEN
“Lurikeens are small, fierce fae often associated with the Unseelie court. In modern mythology, they are most commonly referred to as leprechauns. If you encounter one, however, be prepared to find a nasty, spiteful creature with more interest in tricking you out of your money than in granting luck. Lurikeens may be repelled with a sprig of fresh basil placed beneath an entrance mat.”
I ran the pearly white comb through my hair with love. The silken strands fell through the comb's teeth like miniature waterfalls, cascading over my fingers as I stroked them through the auburn waves. Soft, deliciously soft, hair tickled my lower back. A lower back that was now blemish-less, smooth, and pale. I even smelt good now, like lavender and soap. I smiled at my naked reflection, azure eyes scintillating with joy and more than a hint of relief.
It didn't matter that all of it was fake. That my full breasts and generous hips were just a cover-up for the monster underneath. Corey's glamours were more than just visual; they were physical. For the next seven days, I was just as solid and alive as anyone else albeit much faster and much stronger. Best part was, I didn't have to eat any more human flesh. I had been a vegetarian before I'd died, and I tried to stick to that same diet when I was in my human form. I was certain that there were the makings of a Caesar salad in the kitchen that were calling my name.
I set the comb down on the marble counter top and squeezed the edges with my hands. I needed to start building up my resolve to handle the next couple of days. Faerie wasn't the nicest of places, and if I wasn't prepared, I would be killed. For good.
Corey could talk about the years he lived in Faerie while training as a necromancer all he wanted; I was still worried. It had been almost seven years since he'd last crossed over and from what Rachel had told me, things had changed for the worse.
I ran my hands over my face and tried to breathe.
Rachel.
I had to go for Rachel. And for me.
I pulled my hands away from my face to find Corey's reflection in the mirror. If the black Dickies, Doc Martens, and Kevlar vest he was wearing were an indication of where our day was headed, we were in deep shit. I needed more time to prepare.
“Can't we leave tomorrow?” I asked, ignoring the intense stare he had focused on my ass. “Isn't traveling in Faerie after dark a little dangerous?” I grabbed one of our fluffy, white Egyptian cotton towels and covered myself with it. Corey frowned but not at me. His eyes had temporarily lost their focus.
“Traveling in Faerie is always dangerous, George,” he said, glassy gaze focused intently on the floor beneath my feet. I tucked the edges of the towel in to make sure it would sta
y and approached him slowly, placing a hand on his arm.
“Is there something wrong?” Corey continued to stare, his eyes lighting up briefly as he exerted some of his power. I stood, shoulders tense, and ignored the servant boy who shuffled into the bathroom behind us. I usually avoided the lich servants if at all possible. Their shuttered mouths and intelligent eyes were usually too much for me to bear, but I held my ground, determined to ride out whatever this was with Corey.
His eyes flashed again, the green morphing into a warm gold for just a moment as he finished whatever spell it was that he'd been doing. The fact that he'd merely stood there without moving his lips or his hands was a testament to how talented he was. I felt a rush of pride in him as he looked up at me, a ghost of a smile teasing the corners of his mouth.
“I found another one,” he said softly. A hint of triumph tinted his words, and I smiled back. He'd pulled another undead servant from somewhere nearby. I just hoped that it wasn't a wraith. I couldn't handle another creature like Mai. Elizabeth and Lynna could be frustrating at times, but Mai … I was just glad that Corey had sent her away, if only temporarily.
“What is it this time?” I asked as Corey took me into his arms and kissed me full on the lips.
“Be patient, Georgette. You'll find out soon enough.”
I didn't think about the fact that I was crossing the Veil, the Veil, the one that keeps the fae from decimating humanity. I didn't think about that as Corey turned to give Lynna some last minute instructions. Our new zombie servant stared back at me from across the ring of bell shaped little mushrooms. Her eyes were cloudy and unfocused, soulless, but at least she was intact. Corey was picky about who he raised as a zombie. He liked people that could still pass as the living; if you ignored their shuffling gate and ripe smell anyway. I examined her unblemished skin and the perfectly arranged cinnamon-brown, French twist on the top of her head. However she had died, it had been relatively peaceful. I was betting pills.
Gray and Graves: A Dark Fae Menage Urban Fantasy (The Three Courts of Faerie Book 1) Page 4
