Chapter 28
28
The morning light spears into my eyes, dragging me from restless dreams. I crack open my lids and regret it as pain ricochets through my skull.
Memories from last night filter through the fog shrouding my brain. Kiaran’s deft hands repairing my torn flesh. His quiet voice anchoring me against the dark.
A quick visual inventory of the room proves it empty save for me. Kiaran is long gone, with only the lingering scent of pine clinging to my sheets as evidence of his presence. Well. At least the stubborn bastard didn’t skulk away into the night without ensuring I wouldn’t keel over. I suppose that qualifies as progress by his emotionally constipated standards.
I sag back against the pillows, relief and disappointment churning inside me. Relief that I don’t have to face the simmering awareness now crackling between us. And disappointment that I wake alone, already missing him at my side.
I scrub my hands over my face and force my protesting body upright. One glance in the mirror—
“ Good God .”
The woman staring back appears almost radiant. My copper hair gleams, lit from within, and my fair skin glows. I turn my head side to side, taken aback by the heightened colour in my cheeks. I look more alive than I can remember, glowing and vibrant in a way that borders on unnatural.
Like I’m his.
Oh, no. Oh, no no no.
I make my slow, shuffling way out to the hallway. A blur of golden light zips down the corridor and nearly collides with my face.
“Good morning.” The pixie jerks to an abrupt hover mere inches from my nose, wings a blur. Derrick takes one look at me up close and recoils, sputtering. “What happened to your face? You look...glowy. And you smell like him.” His tiny features scrunch in disgust. “Honestly, it’s like he rolled you in pine sap and arrogance. His stench is all over you.”
Heat scalds my cheeks as I resist the urge to wipe away Kiaran’s touch, as if it were illicit. An intimacy meant for me alone, now witnessed by one vexed pixie.
“Ugh, he’s marked you up,” Derrick moans. “Like you’re his territory now. Honestly, I don’t understand these fae mating displays.” He sticks his nose in the air. “Pixies are far more civilised. I’ve never needed to rub myself all over a female to stake a claim.”
My mortification spikes. I’m too aware of the other evidence Kiaran left behind. The memory of his touch tracing my marks in patterns only he knows. The lingering ache in my healed flesh attuned to only his touch. My body reshaped into an instrument until every nerve sings at his command.
I force an incredulous laugh, desperate to steer this humiliating conversation elsewhere. “Truly? Civilised pixie courtship rituals? Didn’t you once gift a lady love the severed head of her greatest enemy?”
Derrick crosses his arms, radiating offence. “That was a very thoughtful gesture!”
“Of course. My mistake.” I aim a pointed look his way. “May I remind you that Kiaran and I have a business arrangement? Now, I need tea and food.”
I make it downstairs through sheer stubbornness, each step a herculean effort. But the promise of hot tea propels me forward until I collapse into the blessed silence of the empty breakfast room. The tea chases away the tiredness, and I feel almost human again after my third scone piled with jam and cream.
Across from me, Derrick’s eyes track each ravenous bite I take.
“Feeling more alive this morning?” he asks.
“Much.” I finish the last sip of tea and set down my cup with a contented sigh, the hot liquid and food already improving my mood. “So, did you just want to critique my appearance?”
Derrick straightens. “Word came to me of a body discovered just past the city outskirts at first light.”
I lean forward, alert. The food and my aches and pains are forgotten. “Rogue kill?”
“Sounds like it. The message mentioned a throat torn open. Ghastly business.”
“Any authorities find it yet?” I ask. If they had, it would complicate things.
“Not as of an hour ago.”
“Good. That makes this easier.” I push to my feet, weariness burned away by purpose.
Time to begin today’s grim work. In my chamber, I peel off the tattered dressing gown and nightdress. Gooseflesh pebbles my bare skin in the chilly air. I quickly don one of my functional hunting dresses for stalking dangerous quarry. Sturdy leather boots, my belt bristling with blades, and a dark cloak complete the ensemble. I pause before the looking glass to plait my unruly copper hair.
Behind me, Derrick rummages through my dressing table, turning over bottles and baubles. Leaving them strewn about while he paws through my personal effects. Again.
“Must you toss my belongings about every time I glance away?” I demand. “What are you pilfering now?”
Derrick doesn’t even glance up. “I’m looking for a jewelled hair comb. That pretty emerald one.” He tosses aside a crystal bottle, sending rainbow prisms skittering across the mahogany table. “Where did you stash it this time?”
“You mean the one you ‘borrowed’ and didn’t intend to return?”
“Semantics.” He waves a dismissive hand. “Where’s the blasted thing got to?”
“If you’re hoping to steal it, I’m afraid you’re wasting your time. I removed it to a secure location after the last time it went missing from my dressing table.”
I had a hidden compartment built into my armoire specifically to hide things from him after the pixie burgled one too many pieces of my mother’s jewellery. His light-fingered tendencies try my patience at the best of times. Not that something as paltry as a tiny key will do much to thwart a determined fae on the hunt for glittering treasure. Derrick could likely dissolve both with little more than an impatient thought if so inclined. But at least it slows him down.
Derrick finally stops rummaging to fix me with an indignant glower. “How dare you make such accusations? I’m wounded.”
He presses a hand over his heart, feigning affront. His exaggerated stagger barely conceals the calculating glance he shoots toward my armoire.
I step forward and shut the last open drawer with a pointed thump before he can burrow inside like a determined weasel.
“As entertaining as I find these antics,” I say, “We should get underway.”
Derrick heaves a long-suffering sigh. “Oh, very well, if you insist on being responsible and productive at this ungodly hour.”
*
The morning mist clings to the grass as I guide my horse down the forest path, hooves muffled in the soft loam. Derrick perches on my shoulder, peeking out from beneath my cloak’s dark wool.
“Lovely day for a ride, isn’t it?” he chirps, shuffling his wings. “The sunshine, the fresh air, the possibility of stumbling on mutilated corpses.”
I shoot him a wry look. “You have a peculiar notion of what makes a pleasant outing.”
The pixie sits up straighter, preening. “Well, I can hardly let you monopolise all the gruesome discoveries. Finding bodies is the most fun I get these days.”
“Yes, such a shame we can’t provide you daily violent deaths to sate your appetite.”
Derrick scowls, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s bad enough you drag Kiaran along whenever there’s a death involved. The bloody fae refuses to let me keep trophies anymore. I want a new rack of ears.”
I decide silence is the most diplomatic response when Derrick starts philosophical debates about hobbies and mortal remains. I leave him muttering about grisly ends and keepsakes, turning my thoughts to the task ahead.
According to Derrick’s sources, a body awaits deep in the tangled forest edging Edinburgh. As we continue along the winding track, slate roofs and cobbled lanes fall away, replaced by swaying pines. The crisp air carries the scent of decaying leaves and distant woodsmoke. Here and there, gnarled oaks split the canopy, branches twisted and skeletal against the clear sky.
A still form comes into view between the trees up ahead. I tense as icy pulses of power overwhelm me, emanating from the body. The cool morning air is tainted by ozone and petrichor, signalling that death walked here in the predawn stillness.
I draw the horse up several yards away and dismount, boots sinking into the wet loam. I pick my way closer through the undergrowth. Derrick clings to my shoulders, silent.
At first glimpse, some wild animal appears to have savaged the woman. Her throat gapes, flesh shredded and torn back from the bone.
As I crouch closer to see her features beneath the gore, my heart gives a single, bruising thud. She could be my reflection. The resemblance is uncanny. From her long copper hair fanned across the bracken to the spray of freckles across her nose. The differences are subtle—an extra scar through her brow, a slightly more angular jaw. But the similarities outnumber the discrepancies.
I rock back on my heels with a slow exhale, mind racing. This victim was chosen because of that resemblance. A chilling mimicry of me, slaughtered in a promise of things to come.
Her power scrapes my senses, and I remember the guilt in her eyes three months ago, as she plunged the dagger into my chest.
“Sorcha,” I breathe.
I straighten, brushing clinging leaves from my skirts. “Get Kiaran.” I keep my voice low and steady despite my unease.
“What? Why?” Derrick’s wings flutter against my cheek.
“Because this is Sorcha’s kill. I’m going to track her.”
The pixie’s eyes go round with disbelief. “You must be joking! I won’t leave you alone to do that.”
“You’re my trouble alert. Go and get him.”
He chews his lip, clearly reluctant to leave me unprotected. But finally, he nods. “Fine. I don’t like this, but I’ll find the broody bastard.” With a flutter of wings, he launches himself airborne. “If you become a mangled corpse while I’m gone, I’ll never forgive you!”
His glow soon winks out between the distant trees. And I’m alone.
I draw my cloak’s hood over my hair and crouch to search the ground for any trace of Sorcha’s trail. Clumps of pine needles and soil cling to the woman’s tattered skirts. Similar debris litters a faint path leading northwest into the forest’s depths. I rise and begin picking my way cautiously in that direction, skirting gnarled roots and loose stones.
The trees grow denser as I descend a gradual slope. The rich, fecund smell of damp earth surrounds me. Last night’s rain patters down from the branches overhead, soaking into the thirsty soil.
Signs of Sorcha’s passing show here and there along the winding trail, her power leaving hints in the air that lick at my senses. I stay low, moving silently while straining my abilities for hints of her.
My thoughts drift back to the body left behind. Eventually, travellers will find her. Wild rumours will spread through the city, morphing with each telling, stoking fear.
Most people didn’t see the fae, but some still feared them.
Up ahead, the trail terminates. I slow my approach, wary. But no bloodthirsty fae awaits in the small clearing, only an oak of towering height stretching toward the light beyond the canopy.
I circle the colossal tree. Power emanates from its branches—not Sorcha’s, but something more primal. I almost miss the subtle shimmer along the far side. At first, I think it’s just mist playing tricks. But drawing near, I see the air warps and bends as if glimpsed through rippling water. A thin veil stretched across the bark parts like a curtain drawn back from a window.
Impossible darkness shows between the parted folds. My breath freezes as I stare at that gap. Cold power seeps out, raising the fine hairs on my nape. The portal reeks of decay, of forgotten voids deep beneath the living earth. Of lost things that should never again walk under the sun.
Magic thrums as I take a measured step forward. Dark compulsion tugs at my senses like hungry waters under ice, beckoning me closer, promising oblivion.
A hand grips my shoulder. “Don’t.”
At the sound of that familiar voice, I snatch my fingers back just before they would have breached the veil.
“She’s in there,” I say, looking at him.
Kiaran’s dark hair spills across his collar, framing the sharp lines of his face. No matter how often I see him, the impact never lessens. His eyes find mine, seeing too much. Cutting straight to the heart.
“You’re not going in there,” he says.
“She’s the last name on my list.” I jerk out of his grasp, my voice sharpening. “And I intend to cross her off.”
Before he can respond, I step through the veil and into darkness.