Chapter 2
Chapter Two
In the centuries past, it was fae who communed with nature and the magic of the earth.
At one time, this connection allowed them to channel and use magic.
Now, however, their magic was limited to gifts attuned to their respective Courts.
Winter Fae were aligned with gifts of storm, frost, and death.
Kieran’s gift was Death Sense and Miss Sera Blair was shrouded in it.
Which meant she had very little time before her demise.
And he certainly could not avoid her now.
The obligation to ensure he hadn’t unwillingly sent her into danger was certainly compelling, but using his Death Sense to mitigate death whenever possible was his purpose in this life.
Miss Blair was marked to die. But what was the cause?
“Are you okay?” Miss Blair snapped her fingers at him through the bars.
He blinked. “Yes, I’m fine.”
Her expression was skeptical as he tore his eyes from the monstrous form enclosing around her body.
A reflexive survey of the surroundings revealed very few clues as to the cause of her approaching mortality. Instinct took over. The ritual of finding sudden shadows on others had become involuntary over the years.
He ruled out an ongoing medical condition. The timing and ferocity suggested an outside source, as the shadow had not been there when he first arrived. His attention turned to the room, searching for a trigger.
With an air of refined calm, he adjusted his coat. He returned to his seat. He repositioned the chair so that he could see all of Miss Blair before he sank into it and crossed his arms. And then he waited.
He’d have to observe the scene with a new sense of focus until something stood out. The shadow around Miss Blair began to grasp her shoulders, ghostly fingers ready to pull her from the living. Her death was approaching and yet nothing seemed amiss.
He hated this part. The waiting. The watching. The trying to figure out how to stop Death before it was too late. A race against an unknowable timer. Did she have minutes or seconds? Was whatever awaited her even preventable or was death inevitable?
Kieran had learned to decipher certain clues from the shadow itself, but it wasn’t exact. It was never easier, either. Never without its toll on his conscience when he failed or his soul when nothing could be done.
In this instance, however, he concluded that her demise was preventable. Whatever was meant to kill her had only just started its course.
Kieran’s eyes flickered to the movement around them. Boots shuffled and pounded on tiers of floors with more activity than the lowly pits of holding cells. Humans were so easily extinguished. So frail.
A disheveled officer placed a tray of food on one of the desks near Kieran, drawing his attention.
“What’s this?” Rachel stated, raising a brow. But this officer wasn’t just disheveled. His uniform was the wrong size, sagging in places and the sleeves rolled twice to fit over his hands.
The new officer shrugged. “For the prisoner. Boss’s orders.”
Rachel narrowed her eyes as the man unlocked Miss Blair’s cell.
“Oh, thank the Divine.” Miss Blair dove for the desk, scooting into a chair and leaning over the tray.
The shadow’s claws pierced her shoulders, biting at her flesh, preparing to pry out her soul.
Kieran’s focus tunneled onto Miss Blair.
The only sound was his pulse in his ears as all other stimuli faded into the background.
Miss Blair wiggled with oblivious excitement. “I don’t even care that the food here is shit. I’m so hungry.”
The food? Just to be sure, he watched carefully as Miss Blair lifted a slice of buttered bread. The shadow enclosed her face. Her soul was seconds from the afterlife. Death’s hands were on her now, growing closer as her hand neared her mouth.
Kieran rose from his seat and swiped the roll from Miss Blair’s hand. Her jaw closed on air.
The shadow flickered. Wavered. The claws unlatched from her shoulders. Her beautiful face was once again freed of the oozing darkness, revealing her exasperated, pissed-off glare. Directed at himself, who held her dinner above her head with no explanation.
“What the hell?” Miss Blair’s stare intensified in malice, but Kieran was more concerned with the effect he’d had on her imminent demise. He picked up the tray of food and stepped back, observing.
The shadow receded, fleeing and slithering back to the invisible depths of a death too far into the future for him to sense.
Satisfied, Kieran took the tray and poured the contents into a bin.
“Did you know that man?” He directed the question at Rachel. The disheveled officer was already gone.
“I… no, I don’t remember him.” She spoke slowly, as if still working out what had happened.
Kieran turned to Miss Blair. Her arms were crossed and her eyes speared him. But the shadow was gone. Her gratitude wasn’t necessary, but he did not enjoy being the recipient of her ire.
“I advise locating him before he gets too far,” Kieran said.
“Why?” Rachel was already rising from her chair. Of all the humans—or guardian, it was hard to tell at a glance since humans and guardians were genetically similar in every way aside from their blood—he had met, Rachel gave the impression that she was capable.
“He tried to kill Miss Blair.”
“He did what, now?” Miss Blair’s anger dissipated; her face danced through a medley of emotions before settling on wide-eyed fear. “He knows I failed. How the fuck did Cole figure it out so fast?”
Cole? That blight on faery kind was supposed to be gone from Kieran’s life for good.
Kieran closed his eyes as he fought to keep all hostility from his tone. “Do you mean Cole Hawthorne?”
A soothsayer could not have predicted the depths of inconvenience this woman had heaped on his life.
He detected the flash of acknowledgment across her features, like a ripple, there and gone in an instant.
He should have left her to whatever vindictive plot Hawthorne concocted.
Miss Blair was an unending series of misfortune.
For him. Now, she had just revealed the one name that might keep him tethered to this quarrelsome situation.
If Cole Hawthorne was a danger to this woman, then Kieran was indirectly responsible.
Kieran did not imbibe—as a rule, he found it uncouth and he shouldered too many responsibilities to allow for such an indulgence—but inebriation might be preferable to this cosmic joke of an evening.
“I didn’t mean… No one. It’s not the same guy.” Miss Blair backtracked ungracefully, all but confirming his suspicion. “Forget I said anything, please.” She was pleading again.
Her eyes were impossibly persuasive. She was lovely and the wide pleading of her eyes combined with her subtle pout prompted one to appease her whims. It had nearly worked, too, back in his bedchamber.
Despite all claims that he was heartless, Kieran was not actually made of stone and Seraphina Blair was not without her charms. Thankfully, Kieran had a lifetime of suppressing urges and tempering his impulses.
Her charm would not work if he did not wish to succumb.
“Rache, you can’t tell my brother.” Those impossible-to-resist eyes were turned on the Rachel.
“I…”
“Don’t. He’ll go crazy. You know him.”
Rachel seemed to wrestle with the gravity of Miss Blair’s request.
“You should look for that impostor before he escapes,” Kieran interjected.
The two women shared a look, some unspoken exchange he couldn’t comprehend. Then Rachel nodded. She disappeared to her task.
Kieran chanced a look around, but no one paid them the least bit of attention and this section of the headquarters remained sparsely occupied. Not an officer within reach. Miss Blair was an apprehended criminal lounging at a desk without restraints. So much for security.
“It’s nothing, really. I can handle Cole,” Miss Blair said once they were alone.
“He just tried to have you murdered,” Kieran said, not with any intention of callous dismissal. Yet, she winced, reminding him that his tone often conveyed detachment or cruelty, despite his intentions.
“I know.”
“He’s the reason you were searching my home,” Kieran added.
She did not look at him, a sense of shame wafting from her. “Yes.”
“Why? What is he after?” It occurred to Kieran that Hawthorne might want him dead. Could Miss Blair be an assassin? He studied her as she picked at a loose sliver of wood on the desk, posture slumped and expression dismal.
Doubtful. But then, what was the goal? Kieran had nothing of value to someone like Hawthorne.
“Well, he gave me a choice—”
“Choice of what?” Captain Gideon Blair appeared at precisely the wrong moment. Kieran nearly sneered, but managed to merely cast a sharp glance at him.
Miss Blair’s posture snapped into perfection.
“Gideon! Nothing. Nothing to concern you about. Just a small misunderstanding.” Miss Blair matched the Captain’s skeptical stare with her own glare.
The pair, side by side, were identical enough to be twins.
Pale skin. Dark features. Both handsome.
The only difference apart from gender was their height and build.
“A small misunderstanding?” He nudged his chin toward Kieran. “Then what’s the fae alderman doing here?”
Captain Blair had a muscular frame and the fit of his uniform was tailored to match.
From the limited interactions Kieran had shared with the man, he was equal parts serious and ridiculous.
He was brilliant, but his thoughts and speech were often difficult to follow.
Kieran remembered him fully now. His manners always questionable, but in a genuine way that lacked offense.
He regarded societal rituals as highly as Kieran—so not very—but was not beholden to a career that required strict adherence to those constructs.
And he was prone to fidgeting. Never not in motion.