Chapter 6
CHAPTER 6
I zetta studied the ceiling, imagining pictures in the rough surface. One bit looked like a bear; another smudge might have been trolls in a lewd embrace. It was a trick she’d learned in more than one prison over the years. Better to distract herself than let her imagination run to darker places.
Her captors had chained her to a steel table in the middle of the cell, flat on her back, with the links of her bonds so heavy not even a vampire could break them. Clearly, she and Rafe had made someone nervous. Why not simply kill them? Not that she was complaining—yet.
She hoped Rafe was alive. She didn’t like many people, but his was a good soul, even if he didn’t understand his own heart. So few mortals had that kind of time.
The heavy lock clanked as it released. Izetta raised her head enough to see the door swing open. A tall, slender female fae stepped in, an impersonal smile on her perfectly-sculpted mouth. Her long, platinum hair was elaborately braided and woven with strands of glittering gems. She was someone important, or at least rich—which was usually the same thing .
“I see you are finally awake,” the fae said, approaching the table but still keeping a respectful distance. “How do you feel?”
“You don’t care, so tell me what you want.” Izetta’s voice came out rough, as if she hadn’t used it in a long time. Maybe she hadn’t. There was no way to tell how long she’d been unconscious beyond the fact that her vampire powers had healed her wounds. Without fresh blood to replenish her strength, that would have taken time.
“I imagine you’re thirsty.” The female held up a plastic bottle, turning the label so Izetta could see the logo. It was just ordinary water, a common brand. “I assume you find water an acceptable beverage?”
“Yeah.”
The female set the bottle next to Izetta’s chained hand and stepped back. Izetta could brush the cool surface with her fingertips but couldn’t quite grasp it. A frustrated noise escaped her throat.
A flicker of hard amusement crossed the fae’s features. “Cooperate, and I’ll unchain your wrist so you can drink.”
Izetta studied her jailor, saying nothing for a long moment. She sensed the female was older than the two fae in the kitchen, though there was a strong resemblance around the eyes. Mind you, it was hard to tell light fae apart. They all looked like shampoo models.
“Who are you?” Izetta said at last. “What do you want?”
“My name is Galeeta,” the female replied. “You met my children, Ademar and Lila.”
Izetta tensed. Mothers were mothers, and she and Rafe had injured her young. The thought must have shown on her face, because the fae’s smile sharpened.
“As to my reason for keeping you here,” Galeeta went on, “I want to know why an ancient Undead is keeping company with a barely-tamed wolf.”
“Why does it matter? ”
“It’s strange how you arrived without an invitation, and then you were able to get inside.”
“This isn’t a real home,” Izetta replied. “Even if it was, it’s too new to repel the Undead. That power takes time to build.”
“You’re right. This place was recently constructed, with extra accommodations.” The fae swept her hand around the cell’s blank walls.
“I’ve heard King Elroth is doing a bit of traveling,” Izetta said casually. “Word gets around.”
Galeeta frowned. She probably thought no one but other fae had noticed the Forest King left the city with his court in tow. Rumor had it that there had been a dip in the effectiveness of certain kinds of spells. Some fae believed it was caused by living away from their natural environment. Others thought it was living near humans, as if mortality was catching.
Was fae power actually tanking? Izetta had no idea, but it meant this court noble—what else could she be?—was left behind while her king bolted for the hills. That had to burn. Maybe it explained the vaguely panicked look in her eyes—or maybe Galeeta wasn’t the badass she liked to believe.
The fae stepped closer and lightly ran a finger over Izetta’s belly, as if slashing it from side to side. A hot prickle of energy followed her touch, making Izetta flinch. “People don’t break into other people’s places for legitimate reasons. I think you’re a thief. What did you come here to take?”
Izetta said nothing, letting the silence stretch. She’d been a captive many times before—in her line of work, it happened. She’d learned to bide her time and wait for opportunity.
Galeeta took a step back, her large gray eyes narrowing. There was a nervous tic in her jaw. “Being Undead does not make you impervious to persuasion. I have servants who are expert in such arts.”
Izetta grinned, letting fang show. “I’ve been persuaded by the best. ”
“Don’t be a fool. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I’m a realist,” Izetta replied. “You might be looking for information, but that’s a small part of the story.”
“Oh?”
“You’re really looking to assign blame, because that makes you a victim instead of the villain.”
The fae gave an annoyed frown. “Why would I want that?”
“Your boss—and everyone has a boss—will ask how someone got inside your secret playhouse. More specifically, how you let that happen.” Izetta licked her lips, which were starting to crack with thirst. “Having someone to blame comes in handy, except blame leads to killing innocent people.”
Galeeta made a faint sound of derision. “What does a vampire care about collateral damage?”
“Besides getting damaged? Age actually makes some of us thoughtful. Sadly, I think it makes you cling to whatever self-justification keeps you going.”
The fae’s eyes glittered with temper. “Popular psychology won’t keep you whole.”
Izetta curled her lip. “You fae have something to hide, and you’re afraid I’ve found out what that is. You want to know who sent me snooping around. Otherwise, I would be dead.”
From the female’s expression, Izetta had hit the mark. Now she knew what the woman wanted. Maybe Rafe had been right about the Magician hiding within these walls.
“You are not the first vampire that’s fallen captive to House Fernblade,” Galeeta said in frozen tones. “We know the Undead can heal one injury, then another, and then yet another, but eventually you will need fresh blood.”
A cold fist of fear seized Izetta’s gut. So few understood how to truly torture her kind.
Galeeta folded her slender arms. “Eventually, you will break. Then you will tell me everything I want to know.”
Lila crossed the black and white tiles of the entry hall, her heart pounding. She’d learned enough on her last visit to the dungeon to be wary, both of the occupants and the magic guarding them. She could disarm or circumvent many spells—she had been trained well from the time she was a child—but some of what she’d sensed was beyond her skill.
Ademar had excelled at higher level magic, such as the Sleeping Beauty spell. He had probably learned it from Lord Farras, who was no doubt responsible for much of the magic around this place. Apparently, there was a perimeter spell in the surrounding forest that prevented visitors from reaching the road. No one got away once the fae took a prisoner.
Her father was a prisoner. The very idea made her want to retch. The king’s dungeon was no joke, and King Elroth had a particular hatred for traitors. Once inside that tower, few ever got out. If pleasing Farras convinced him to advocate for her father, she’d play along. And if getting information out of the wolf got her useful answers, she’d do that, too. She hated fae politics with a passion, but she’d suck it up for the sake of her father’s life.
The door that hid the basement stairs stood just to the right of the grand staircase leading to the upper floors. The knob was enameled to match the stark white walls. The door was almost as well-concealed as the secret passage Ademar had used during Teegar’s attack, which begged the question of how many hidden entrances she hadn’t found yet.
Lila opened the door and stared down the barely lit steps. Last time she’d come this way, she’d been riding a wave of fury over Ademar’s wounds. This time she was attuned to the wave of subtle magic that invited visitors in while never intending to let them go. There was a kickstand on the inside of the door, so she propped it open to safeguard her retreat. Dry-mouthed, she thrust her hand into her pocket, fingered the key fob, and made herself descend the stairs.
As before, the corridors below were empty of guards. Lila went the same way as she had the first time, studying whatever landmarks she could find—a scuffed bit of wall, the number of light fixtures until she came to the right-hand turn. Rafe’s door was the first, halfway along the hallway. There were other cells—Teegar and the vampire had to be there, too—but Lila kept her focus on the wolf.
One problem at a time . She turned her attention to Rafe’s cell.
As before, a steady red light shone from the security panel to the right of the door. Older fae were often slow to adapt to human technology, but if Lord Farras had added modern gadgets to the way station, he was clearly comfortable with modern tech. That made sense. He was acting as a patron to Ademar, whose passion was marrying magic and machines. Maybe it was her brother’s expertise that ensured these locks worked in the presence of so many spells.
Lila swiped the key fob over the security panel and waited for the light to go from red to green. Then she pushed the button that slid open the top panel of the door. With a metallic click and scraping noise, the steel plate slid open to reveal the barred top section of the door. Lila watched as Rafe looked up from where he sat on the bed, elbows on his knees. At the sight of her, his lips curled into a snarl before the cold human mask slammed into place. Lila stifled the urge to step back from the bars.
At least she knew where she stood with him. That kept things simple.
Rafe rose and approached the door, his body language wary. Unlike the first time she’d come, full of fury, she gave herself time to study the shifter. From the first, she’d noticed his long limbs and broad shoulders. Now she saw smaller details. That weathered tan said he spent much of his time outdoors. The dark hair was a lush, heavy texture only a shifter could claim. Her fingers itched to see if it was as soft as she imagined. By the time he reached the door, Lila had to concentrate on the reason she was there.
He folded his arms and regarded her with steady hazel eyes. The color held the possibility of wolf gold, a glimpse of the predator within. It was hard to stand still and meet that gaze. She wanted to shuffle away. He was so—cold.
“Have you been given food and water?” she asked in a flat tone, wondering if her mother’s mysterious servants had been there.
“Yes,” he replied, “although I gotta say, if this is a fae hotel, your concept of fine cuisine needs work.”
“So give us two stars.” She shrugged. “I doubt the manager will care.”
He lounged against the heavy stone that formed the doorframe. There was an insolence to the posture that almost hid his wariness. “What do you want from me?”
“I want you to pay for the injury you dealt my brother, but we’ve been over that.”
“I understand.” His expression didn’t change. “You and your brother are pack.”
“You could put it that way.”
“I just did.”
She shifted a little to the left, trying to see his entire face between the bars. “You’re not sorry for biting him, are you?”
“There is a difference between remorse and regret. I regret that it was necessary.”
His calm, cool tone infuriated Lila. “Just like it was necessary to hunt us in our own way station?”
“I told you why we came here. We were hunting someone who is a threat to the pack.”
Lila’s breath hitched. They’d just arrived at the first topic she wanted to explore. “I want to know more about this criminal the wolves are hunting.”
Rafe straightened, something in the fae’s voice putting him on guard. The last time Lila had come here, he’d pushed her too hard, withheld too much. He let emotion outrun reason, which was against every scrap of Silent Wolf training. Be careful. He’d get nowhere if she stormed away a second time.
“I don’t know his real name,” Rafe admitted.
She tilted her head, her gray eyes narrowing. “What do you know?”
Rafe sucked in a breath. He was treading on very dangerous ground. “Whoever he is, he’s popular with the youth of the city’s supernatural quarter. They call him the Magician.”
Lila folded her arms, hugging her ribs tight. “The Magician? Are you serious?”
“He meets them in bars and dance clubs. Within hours, at least some of them have gone mad. Others are dead. No one knows why.”
“And you say he is a fae?” She spat the words out as if they tasted foul.
Rafe stalked closer to the bars. “I’ve seen a surveillance recording. He was light fae, all right, and I recognized one of the victims. What is he doing to them?”
Her brows gathered into a frown. “I don’t know. I’ve heard something about a spate of recent deaths, but never dreamed a fae was responsible.”
As they’d been talking, she’d pulled out her phone and swiped the screen. After typing a moment, she held it up so that Rafe could see a news article. Another headline, another dead kid. Rafe skimmed the first few lines. This time, the victim had been a newly-made vampire. His gaze flicked back to the top of the screen. The by-line read Errata Jones . He vaguely recognized the reporter’s name from other articles, or maybe it had been a blog.
“So you believe me?” he asked .
“The deceased lived in my apartment block,” she said. “I know these deaths are real. I get why you want to stop the carnage, but I don’t know how to help. Your Magician isn’t here.”
Rafe was confused. “Did you say the last victim was your neighbor?”
“Yes.”
“Light fae don’t live side-by-side with vamps.”
Her mouth twisted in a half-smile. “Except for me. I’m the only light fae in town with an address in a mixed-species building.”
She began to put the phone away, but had to pull a key fob from her pocket before the phone would fit. Rafe tried not to watch as she tucked it in her breast pocket.
“Why live there?”
She hesitated so long he thought she wouldn’t answer. Then she spoke quickly and quietly, as if she were afraid of being overheard. “I wanted something different.”
For a fleeting instant, he understood her. “You wanted to know who you might be outside your pack.”
The look she shot him said he’d got it in one. “Maybe.”
“Good for you.”
“What do you know about it?”
“A shifter community can be pretty smothering, too.”
That was how he’d ended up half a world away, tracking bad guys for fun and profit. The hard part was coming home and finding out he still didn’t fit in, even if he was the Alpha’s son.
She straightened, as if remembering this wasn’t a casual conversation. Her eyes lost their momentary warmth as she grasped the bars, leaning close. “Let’s get back to the Magician. Tell me again why you came here to find him?”
Rafe gave up being friendly. It hadn’t exactly been a pretense, but he’d known it was doomed. “Like I said, we tracked him to this valley by his scent.”
“Right to this door?” She bit off each syllable. “Are you sure? ”
“Yes.”
“I believe your bogeyman is real, but you’re sniffing in the wrong place.” She began to pull away, but he caught her wrist. Her skin was cool, the bones fragile beneath his grip.
“Our young are dying,” he said in a voice like ice. “I can’t ignore evidence.”
Her scent tickled his nostrils, driving straight into the most primal centers of his brain. She was like a drug, though he could not tell if that signaled poison or pleasure. His fingers grazed the crisp fabric of her shirt, as her breath warmed his face. If he leaned in another inch, he could have pressed his lips to hers.
“No.” She snatched her hand away, jumping back and rubbing her wrist as if he’d left a bruise. “We’re not criminals. We don’t lure party-goers to their deaths. And we didn’t kidnap your missing pack mates.”
Rafe deftly palmed the fob he’d plucked from her shirt pocket and slipped it out of sight. “You can’t blame us for searching.”
“You had no right to attack us.”
They were right back to where they had ended last time, snarling and snapping. She had spirit, even if she stuck to her opinions like a barnacle. He’d be wild with frustration except now the fob felt warm in his hand, heavy with promise.
“You can’t keep me locked up forever.” It was all Rafe could do to keep mockery from his tone. He would find a way out. “Or my pack mates.”
“Do you have fur in your ears? We don’t kidnap people.”
“Then explain where they went.”
“Not my problem. It has nothing to do with us.” Despite her denial, the conversation had clearly struck a nerve.
“So you’re saying I wasn’t kidnapped?”
With a darting movement, she pushed the button that closed the panel over the door. “I’m done arguing with you.”
The panel began to grind shut.
“Let me go, Lila. ”
“Oh, but you’ll stay,” she said, eyes snapping. “Even if you made it out of your cell, no living thing can leave this way station without permission. That’s old magic, woven straight from the soul of the forest. Cross that line, and no one will find so much as a finger bone.”
Rafe took a breath to object, but he was staring at the closed door. Her words had just ripped his careful plan to shreds.
He sank to the floor, his back pressed against the wall. A low, frustrated growl escaped him, echoing against the hard walls. His fist closed around the fob.
What good was it now, when nothing alive could escape?