Hidden (The Dark Forgotten #7)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

T here .

Scent danced on the breeze, an elusive wisp that beckoned Rafe Devries forward. He traveled in wolf form, a gray shadow gliding under the trees. He pushed through the ferns and low-hanging branches, but that invisible beacon—elusive even to his sensitive nose—vanished like a dancer beneath her veils. With a frustrated growl, he backtracked, enormous paws silent on the forest floor.

The bowl of the valley surrounded him like cupped palms, holding in the soft whisper of stream and lake. He worked alone, using his beast’s senses to tease out what surveillance technology could not. His quarry was somewhere in this wilderness—that much was certain—but no one had caught a glimpse of the fae for weeks.

Rafe tasted the breeze, sifting through the smells. Each had a texture and color in his mind, as unique as faces in a crowd. He would—No, he must find his prey. The search hadn’t started with one lone wolf. The extended kin of the Devries family—bereft and furious—had been part of the hunt. Not many creatures could evade an entire werewolf pack hungry for vengeance .

But this fae could—and did. With every search, they had tracked the vile bastard to this valley, only to lose him like one more needle in the vast carpet of cedar and fir. In the end, the pack had sent for Rafe, their prodigal son, to come home and collect their debt in blood.

There .

This time, the tantalizing hint was stronger. Rafe turned toward it, breathing deeply. At first, the astringent wash of pine and loam drowned it out, but he caught that lingering note of something else—cinnamon on ice, hot and cold as freshly forged steel quenched in snow. The signature was uniquely fae. He’d found the trail once more.

He picked up his pace, moving as fast as stealth would allow. His quarry was directly ahead where the land rose out of the valley, exchanging dark shadows for fitful moonlight. Dense brush gave way to a sketchy path that wound toward still higher ground. Rafe broke into a loping run, unable to rein himself in.

Afigure emerged from between the trees, striding steadily up the path. The broken light traced the silhouette. Graceful. Tall. Slender as a reed. Long, straight hair the shade of palest wheat.

Definitely fae. Definitely female.

He was hunting a male.

Rafe stopped dead, leaves flying as he skidded to a halt. Not even the backpack and loose jacket could hide those curves. A mix of disappointment and interest coursed through him. This creature was not his prey, but she was beautiful, even if she was one of them .

As if hearing his thoughts, she turned to search the darkness. Rafe flattened himself to the ground, silently cursing. He’d been too eager, too noisy. A fae’s hearing missed nothing.

The moonlight caught her features, confirming his suspicions. She was a light fae, with features almost alien in their fine-boned perfection. Rafe’s pulse quickened, the fae’s sheer loveliness demanding a response .

But this wasn’t his first hunt, and he knew better than to roll over for one of them . He remained as still as the twisted roots around him, cool and self-contained. The fae studied the path behind her, head tilted at a haughty angle.

Arrogant, like all the rest.

Eventually, her shoulders relaxed. With a half-shrug, she turned and resumed her climb up the hill, moving a little faster now.

Rafe rose to his feet. She wasn’t the one he wanted, yet he wouldn’t let her slip away. There were only so many reasons a fae—or anyone—would take a stroll through this remote valley. If he tracked this female, surely she’d lead him to his quarry.

He followed, soundless as mist. Where was she going? There were no buildings, no campgrounds, not even a treehouse in these woods.

Rafe paused long enough to scan the direction she’d come from. There was a secondary road on the other side of the valley, used mostly by outdoor enthusiasts on the way to campgrounds another thirty miles to the east. Had she parked on the roadside and walked in?

He returned his attention to the female’s dark-clad form, her long legs and elegantly curved hips. She moved in and out of the scattered moonlight as silently as a dream. Narrowing the gap between them was risky, but it allowed him to catch her scent again—wild, spicy, tantalizing. Now it seemed ludicrous that he ever thought something so attractive might belong to his real quarry.

The foul one. The killer. Memories of grief—his own and the pack’s—focused him.

The fae they sought was popular among the supernatural youth of East Bay—those old enough to attend a club and young enough to enjoy the noise and erratic hours. And wherever there was a hot, sweaty crowd with drink, dancing, and not enough clothes, this fae showed up .

That in itself was curious. Usually fae—especially light fae—kept to their own kind. They were an ancient people and, unlike the vampires, had never known what it was to be mortal. This one, though, he befriended the young—those caught just at the first glimmer of independence.

No one had thought anything about this fae’s influence until their cubs began to die. The only clue that linked the deaths was the fact that they’d recently spoken to that fae. Then the wolves—and vampires and witches—had howled for blood. For the one they called the Magician and whatever foul magic he used.

And for some reason, his trail led here.

Rafe followed the female, struggling to ignore everything but her usefulness as a guide. He kept that concentration at a cost. Without warning, an owl dove from the sky, snatching a vole from the ground. Rafe startled, caught unawares.

The female spun, a sleek pistol in one hand. Rafe dove for the shadows, but not before he heard her intake of breath.

“Who’s there?” she demanded in a voice like chilled velvet.

The night was silent but for the beat of wings. He could almost feel the fae’s gaze searching the darkness. The way she held herself—and the gun—said she was trained to use it.

Her fierce confidence made her even more compelling. The itch to confront her—to see who had the superior battle skills—almost made him forget his carefully maintained calm. His pulse thundered in his ears.

She turned away, shattering the moment. With a hop and scramble, she reached the lip of the valley, vanishing for a moment into the gloom beneath a pair of giant cedar trees. When she emerged again, she was outlined against the sky.

Then she raised her hand and spread her fingers wide. Rafe blinked as spears of light arced between them like a fistful of lightning. A spell crackled, raising the fur along his spine.

The brilliance rippled outward, making a corona against the horizon. Forgetting all caution, Rafe stood for a better look. Afterimages of the woman’s silhouette danced in his vision, merging with the trees.

What was she doing?

The sky wavered like the surface of a pond. Stars swirled and ran, reminding him of a Van Gogh painting. Then the darkness around her melted away, replaced by a modern, white-walled mansion sparkling with lights. It stood a hundred yards away, as if plucked from the cover of an architecture magazine.

The female stepped onto the smooth concrete path that led to the door.

Finally, Rafe understood. This was a glamour—a fae spell that confused the senses of their victims. Sight, sound, and scent could be confused. And a villain could hide in plain sight.

The fae had hidden an entire mansion behind their spell. The one they sought had been here all along, so close the wolves might have run him to ground like an autumn stag. No wonder the cubs called him the Magician.

The depth of the deception dragged an angry rumble from his chest. The female’s head turned slightly, catching the sound. She hurried forward, her boots all but silent on the walk. It was like watching a phantom falling into a dream. A moment later, the mansion—and the female—vanished. The horizon was nothing but stars and trees, empty of fae.

His gaze probed the darkness. Even in that short time, he’d learned the female’s form, and he wanted her within his sight. That made no sense. She was not for him.

Fae. The enemy. Anger crackled through him, bright as her magic spell—and now he could act on it. The killer had hidden himself away, but Rafe had found his den.

The hunt was on.

A silent rush of magic activated the concealment spell, hiding the house and the yard around it once more. Lila shivered slightly, the tingle of power leaving gooseflesh behind. When she glanced back, only a faint blur showed where a film of magic interrupted her view of sky and trees.

Lila exhaled, wishing she could relax. Something had been watching as she crossed the valley and climbed the trail to this place. She had felt the weight of its gaze like a physical pressure, though she couldn’t tell whether it had been a two- or four-legged beast. Fae had good night vision, but she hadn’t been able to spot it among the forest growth. An expert stalker, then. A predator.

Her shoulders twitched, as if shrugging off that gaze. She should have felt protected here, inside the circle of fae magic, but calm eluded her. Hopefully, that wasn’t an omen. Maybe it was just the awkwardness of coming here uninvited.

She started up the smooth path to the front door. Now that she was closer, she could see how far the building rambled, hugging the uneven landscape all the way to the rocky shore of the lake beyond. A quick count of windows said there was enough room to house dozens of people, though she saw no sign of anyone now. No lights shone in the windows or above the doors. The place seemed deserted.

Her brother should be there. It had been her older sister, Sala, who’d insisted someone visit and see what Ademar had got himself into. Now Lila wondered if the address was correct—not that this place technically had one.

Nothing with her family ever went according to plan.

Mounting the porch steps, Lila scanned for defensive wards. This was no ordinary dwelling, but a way station under the command of the Forest King. Such places existed wherever royalty traveled between palaces—or, more likely, luxury condos if they were in the city.

In theory, the laws of hospitality governed the way stations— all comers got a bed and a meal. Even the lesser fae—the tiny winged beings who frequented gardens and riversides—would find a bed and mug of nectar. As a result, the way stations were usually bustling with guests.

Most way stations were ancient, measured in hundreds if not thousands of human years. This place was brand new, which was interesting. Lila studied the sweep of the roof, the soaring arch over the door. Whoever built this had powers similar to her own. She’d made a career in magic-assisted architecture and knew how to coax living wood to bend and shape as she desired. Without even touching a single beam, she sensed someone had spelled this place from the forest within the last few months. And while one individual may have created the building, more than one would have pooled their energies to ensure the magic endured.

Why build this one, and not use one that already existed? And why was no one here? That was just—odd.

Lila paused before the door, fingering the butt of her pistol for a moment before placing her palm against the white paneled door. A faint surge of power tingled against her hand as the locking spell tested her. Once it recognized her as one of the wood fae, it released with a soft click.

The door swung open. Lila’s hand returned to her weapon as she stepped inside. She’d trained in defensive magic, but sometimes—like in an ambush—a bullet was faster and more reliable. With a pounding heart, she listened to the profound silence.

The overhead light blinked on, triggered by her presence. The entry hall was large but as impersonal as a hotel, with white walls framing a checkerboard marble floor. She took a few steps forward, ears straining for sounds. There should have been dozens of servants tending to the needs of guests, but there was only silence.

“Hello?” she called.

Echoes pulsed against the high ceiling, mimicking her heartbeat. She was about to call again when something moved overhead. She froze, her jaw aching with tension.

“Ademar?”

Another footfall, barely there. She turned toward the noise. On the left side of the entry hall, a massive staircase swept to the upper floor. She glided across the hall and began mounting the stairs, weapon drawn.

A faint light shone at the top.

Lila cleared the last step, sweeping her gun from right to left. “Hello?”

“Lila?” Her brother’s tall form came into view. He was a head taller than her, but otherwise they might have been twins, with the same dark gray eyes and pale, straight hair. A scar marked one cheek, but the imperfection heightened his otherwise flawless features. Even by the exacting standards of the light fae, Ademar was handsome.

With a sigh of relief, she holstered her gun. “Why are you lurking alone in the dark?”

“What are you doing here?” he replied, a frown pleating his brow.

She hugged him, ignoring his stiff tone. “I’m so glad to see you. It’s been ages.”

He responded with a one-armed embrace, pulling her off balance with his easy strength. “Did you come alone?”

“I did. Sala was worried. She made me promise to check on you and tell her everything. She seems to think you’re in trouble.”

He closed his eyes for a long moment, clearly exasperated. “You shouldn’t have come, and Sala should mind her own affairs. Let her be content with ruling her children’s lives.”

“Hmm.” As the eldest, Sala could be overbearing, but Lila was beginning to think her sister’s suspicions were correct. Something was wrong. “Where is everyone?”

“Those who were here when I arrived have moved on. Others have yet to reach this destination.” Ademar started down the hall, his step quick and light on the bare tiles.

She fell in behind him, just as she had when she’d been a child and he a dozen years older. To her young eyes, he’d been filled with sophistication and mystery. Now he just seemed full of—something.

“Try again,” she said dryly. “That wasn’t an answer. Why are you here?”

“I am here because Lord Farras asked me to come.”

Lila did her best to hide a grimace. Farras was a highborn courtier and cousin to the king. At times, he’d been a generous patron to her family. Nonetheless, his smile made the hair rise along her nape. “Why? What’s on his mind?”

Her brother led them to a darkened sitting room with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the moonlit forest. The view was the best thing about the space. Usually, when fae built a home, it was harmonious, lush with color and detail. This house was all angles, done in shades of ice and gray, as if the builder had been depressed.

With a flick of his fingers, Ademar lit a candle lamp that sat on a low table in the center of the room. He still hadn’t explained the lack of light, but Lila would circle back to that. The fact that Lord Farras was involved trumped every other concern.

“Ademar?” she prompted.

“If Lord Farras requests my presence here, I obey. Given our sagging family fortunes in recent years, I can’t very well refuse.”

She shrugged one shoulder. Their mother complained long and bitterly about how King Elroth ignored the old alliances with House Fernblade, but Lila had never paid much attention. What could she do about it?

“I am lucky to have a patron who finds me and my interests useful,” Ademar added. “He is supporting my research connecting fae communication with modern transmission systems. ”

“So then, why don’t you answer my phone calls? And Sala’s, too?”

Ademar’s only reply was a faint smile. He sank into a chair and crossed his long legs, resting one elbow on the white upholstered arm.

Annoyed, Lila circled to face her brother so she could argue properly. “Are you going to fill me in or not?”

“You can see with your own eyes that I am perfectly fine.”

Except he wasn’t. Lila could feel his anxiety from across the room. “I dragged myself out here to see if you’re okay. I want answers now.”

Ademar said nothing, but his silence was loud. He was just as stubborn as she was.

“Sala said two vampires knocked on her door. They were asking for you, and they weren’t happy. What have you got yourself into?”

He looked away, the fall of his long hair obscuring his expression.

“When Sala told me about her visitors, I dropped everything and hunted until I found out where you were,” Lila said. “You owe your family some answers. Whatever you’re doing is causing ripples.”

“Tell Sala I apologize,” Ademar replied. “I will ensure no future ripples will reach my sisters. And I don’t owe you anything. You’re the one who turned your back on us.”

That stung. “We’ve already lost two sisters. Excuse me for asking questions.”

He shot her a venomous look. “That had nothing to do with me.”

She stepped closer, refusing to let him avoid her glare. “Is it too much to ask for an explanation?”

“You can ask for anything. That does not mean you’ll receive it.”

His long-fingered hands clenched and unclenched, but his features remained cold, still marble. He was anxious, maybe angry, but he’d never acknowledge it.

“I had plans for the weekend.” She flung herself into one of the white velvet chairs. “Confess, and I’ll still have time to make it back to town before breakfast.”

Ademar’s gray eyes flicked away again. “You’re being trivial.”

“Since you won’t answer when I talk in my serious voice, you’re leaving me few alternatives.” Lila came to her real point. “I may be living in town and away from court, but I still hear whispers. People are worried about some bogeyman they call the Magician. I hear the king is considering a withdrawal of the fae from human habitations.”

Some believed contact with humans was weakening their magic. Lila didn’t believe it, but her opinion was irrelevant. The nobles couldn’t afford to take chances, especially not the kings and queens, whose birthright of power was far greater than even the most accomplished students of the magic arts.

“King Elroth isn’t thinking about leaving. He’s doing it. How is that relevant?”

“This way station is new and far better hidden than the old ones—so hidden that I wouldn’t have found it without specific directions. One might say it was fit for nobility that didn’t want to be found. Should I assume any of these facts are connected?”

He winced. “It’s complicated.”

“Complicated enough to bring vampires to Sala’s door?” Frustration burned in her belly. “Where do they fit in? Did someone commit a crime? Did you?”

“The Undead have no business bothering us.” His gaze hardened. “We don’t owe them an explanation, either.”

Hot annoyance morphed into fear. “By the Abyss, Ademar, what did you do? What does it have to do with Lord Farras?”

“You’re making a drama out of nothing,” Ademar replied coolly. “Lord Farras invited us to wait for him here. He should have arrived by now, so I expect him at any time. ”

“What’s he up to? And who is us ? Is there someone else here?”

Ademar opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by the sound of breaking glass. She jumped up, reaching for her gun, but Ademar caught her hand and held a finger to his lips.

“I was expecting an annoyance,” he murmured. “I was hoping to get rid of you before the annoyance arrived.”

“Who is it?” she breathed. Sweat trickled down the small of her back.

He bent, picking up a sword belt and scabbard hidden in the shadows beside his chair. Rising to his feet, he buckled on the belt and drew the sword. Candlelight danced along the blade, as if mocking Lila’s choice to carry a human weapon. In the hands of a warrior such as Ademar, trained in battle magic, fae steel had no equal.

A second crash shattered the silence, this time of splintering wood.

Ademar’s eyes sparked with anticipation. “It’s time to say hello.”