Chapter 19 – Caelyx
Nineteen
CAELYX
The shimmer collapses behind me, the pocket dimension folding in on itself like a house of cards. I stand in the abandoned warehouse, watching the last threads of magic dissipate into nothing, and allow myself a smile.
She was going to do it. The psychopathic little hunter was actually going to bring the whole fucking thing down on our heads.
Magnificent.
I move through the shadows between buildings, my wings manifesting just enough to carry me to the rooftops where I can track her progress without being seen.
Not that she'd notice me anyway. She's too busy half-dragging her champagne-addled roommate through campus, muttering what I'm sure are some very creative curses under her breath.
The compulsion I used on her friend will wear off in an hour or so. She'll wake up tomorrow with vague memories of a lovely evening and absolutely no recollection of what her roommate was planning.
A kindness, really.
Some things are better left forgotten, and the knowledge that you almost died in a dimensional collapse ranks pretty high on that list.
Billie stumbles slightly, her heels catching on uneven stone, and my body tenses with the urge to swoop down and steady her. Ridiculous. She's a trained killer who could probably gut me in my sleep given half a chance. She doesn't need saving.
But I find myself following anyway, tracking her path through the gardens and back toward the dormitories. Just to make sure she gets there safely, I tell myself. Just to confirm she's actually going back to her cage instead of doubling back to cause more chaos.
The lie tastes sweet on my tongue.
Because unlike Corvinus, I can lie. Even if I do it most often to myself.
The truth is darker, more complicated. I want to know what she'll do next. Want to see how she'll pivot now that her first attempt at mass murder has been thwarted. Will she try again? Find a new strategy? Give up entirely and accept her fate as my brother's pet?
The thought of Corvinus's hands on her makes something ugly twist in my chest. I push it down, refusing to examine why the image bothers me so much.
She reaches the dormitory entrance, pausing to shift Olivia's weight to her other shoulder. Even exhausted and frustrated, she moves with that deadly efficiency that speaks to years of training. Every gesture is purposeful, every step careful.
I've seen my brother's soldiers, the ones who trained from birth to kill for the Seelie Court. They move like her. Hunt like her. Corvinus thinks throwing an omega collar on a hunter neutralizes the threat, but he's wrong.
So fucking wrong.
The little cobra is still venomous.
She's just learned to hide her fangs.
She disappears through the entrance, and I give it five more minutes before dropping from my perch. The campus is quieter now, most students either at parties or holed up in their rooms pretending to study.
Perfect. I have research to do, and I'd rather not explain to anyone why the prince who's supposed to be at sparring practice is instead breaking into restricted archives.
The library towers over the eastern edge of campus, protected by gargoyles that actually fucking move. I land on one of the upper balconies, my wings folding back into nothing as I shift forms. The window is locked, naturally, but locks have never stopped me.
A touch of my magic and the enchantments unravel like cheap threads. I slip inside, landing silently on the marble. The restricted section is three floors down, hidden behind wards that would make most people turn back.
Most people aren't half Unseelie with a talent for breaking things that shouldn't be broken.
I take the stairs instead of teleporting. The restricted archives are tucked behind a door that doesn't officially exist. You have to know where to look, have to understand how the building's spatial properties bend and fold.
Locke showed me once, thinking I was interested in historical preservation instead of using the knowledge to steal his credentials.
Speaking of which...
I pull the identification crystal from my pocket, Locke's authorization key. He probably hasn't even noticed it's missing yet, too busy playing watchdog for my dear brother. The thought brings a smile to my face as I press it against the lock.
The wards recognize Locke's signature and peel back like flower petals. Too easy. You'd think they'd have better security for their most sensitive records, but the Seelie have always been arrogant about their magical superiority.
But maybe that's about to change.
Inside, the archives sprawl in defiance of the building's exterior dimensions. Shelves stretch into darkness in every direction, lined with documents and artifacts that date back millennia. The air smells like dust, thick with magic that makes my hybrid skin burn.
I head straight for the hunter records. They're kept separate from the general population files, marked with wards that whisper warnings about the dangers contained within. As if information about my enemies could hurt me more than the enemies themselves.
The filing system is archaic but logical once you understand its rhythm.
Organized by clan, then by individual, then by incident.
I find the Moreau section easily enough—they're one of the oldest hunter bloodlines, after all.
Pages upon pages of encounters, kills, near-misses.
A litany of Fae deaths stretching back centuries.
And there, filed under "Recent Incidents," I find her.
Wilhelmina Moreau
Age: 20
Designation: Omega
Origin: Moreau clan
Parents: Unknown
A name, a brief history, a couple of cold facts…
that's all they've got on her. Nothing about her childhood, nothing about her family.
Of course, they didn't bother to interrogate her properly. They never see omegas as threats. It’s that damned Seelie arrogance again, like a disease spreading through every corner of this university, blinding them to what's simmering right under their perfect noses.
I close the thin file on Wilhelmina Moreau reluctantly, my mind drifting to the thought of her wandering these halls, carrying secrets she has no business holding. I turn back to the shelves, eyes scanning for anything else that might shed light on her purpose here.
Hours whittle away with no leads. There are dozens of files on hunters from the Moreau clan, but vast as that bloodline is, it narrows things down so little.
Most of the files don't even have names, they're just references to hunters who either succeeded at killing Fae and escaped, or those who were killed on the spot as penance for their failure.
Then I find it. A file labeled "Unresolved Incidents.
" It stands out because of the thin layer of dust covering its surface, the soft grit tickling my fingertips as I pull it free.
Most wouldn't think to look here in a section the archivists clearly haven't bothered with in years. Another oversight of the complacent.
Flipping through the pages, an entry catches my eye.
A female hunter, nameless, somewhere around forty-five, captured after an assassination attempt on Corvinus.
Eight years ago.
My chest constricts slightly. Interesting. There's no record of execution, just an order. Which is odd. Executions are standard Fae protocol for hunters who don't make a quick enough escape.
Yet this file ends abruptly, the grim conclusion missing. I suppose that's how it ended up in this section in the first place.
Typical of them. Either the archivists have made a clerical error—which seems unlikely, given the anal retentive nature of their record-keeping—or someone stayed the execution without leaving any record of it.
My fingers trace the edge of the paper, as if it might divulge more secrets. But as scant as the facts are, they paint an interesting picture.
This nameless female hunter… could she be related to Billie? If so, then her motive is at least accounted for.
But why did the records stop? I'd need to squeeze more than dust and ink for answers, though.
I could ask Corvinus outright.
But that's reckless unless I want to tip him off to the fact that I'm digging where I shouldn’t be. Corvinus, for all his princely poise and the arrogance that makes him blind to his own flesh and blood scheming behind his back, is still a bit too clever for that.
I slide the file back into place, the others around it shifting into disorder before settling.
There is one thing I'm sure of. Wilhelmina Moreau walked into this university with a purpose. She is also an omega, which makes her capable of accessing people and places I can't get to without being viewed as a threat.
Maybe she will be useful, yet.
If nothing else, she's interesting.