Epilogue
Thora Creekwood perched calmly on a rickety chair inside a small but cozy coffee shop, sipped her espresso, and waited for further instructions.
As always, the place had cleared out shortly after darkness fell.
The owner, Carlo, was taking his usual lengthy smoke break out back and watching a soccer game beside his open rear door, and he wouldn’t return unless the metal bell attached to his business’s front door jingled and summoned him back to the counter.
Which it wouldn’t do, because she’d flipped the OPEN sign to CLOSED and removed the bell in preparation for her boss’s arrival.
During their previous meeting, shortly after he’d returned from the Realm Below, he’d filled her in on everything he’d learned about the fae conspirators with whom she’d been embedded for the past year.
Their names, their plans, the identities of various minions who belonged to other species, the location and purpose of Josiah Goodling’s encampment of captive oracles.
Everything he told her fit what she’d seen over the course of her assignment.
She was simply ashamed that she hadn’t put the puzzle together herself, well before Goodling had managed to murder still-unknown numbers of Zone inhabitants and several kidnapped oracles.
For that matter, she was also ashamed over her failure to recognize that malicious jackass as a fae. A glamour that powerful—so powerful and rare that she hadn’t heard of its existence, even as a half-fae—must have cost Josiah decades from his life.
But he was dead and gone now. The other fae conspirators had been discreetly arrested and interrogated, although only a select, trusted circle of SERC officials knew the precise reasons why. Josiah’s minions had been taken into custody too…including Hugh’s mother, Marlee. That had been awkward.
Somehow, amid all the familial hubbub and unpleasantness, Hugh had also interviewed and arranged protection for the freed oracles.
And now…and now…
What? Where did he intend to direct their continuing investigations now that the group Thora had so carefully infiltrated had essentially ceased to exist?
She didn’t know. But he’d told her that he wanted to meet her at their usual rendezvous point tonight, face-to-face, to discuss that very issue—after he got Gwen settled into bed with a cheese platter, her favorite streaming show about, yes, cheese, and all the healing amulets and spells one human women could possibly wear.
Thora liked Gwen—who was, even now, apparently organizing an oracle union of sorts with the help of her fellow former captives—and Thora’s earlier intelligence failures had caused the seer harm.
Had gotten countless other innocents killed too.
Whatever new assignment Hugh wanted to give her, however abhorrent, Thora would accept without complaint.
Right on time, he silently slid inside the coffee shop, locked the door behind himself, and joined her at the table farthest away from Carlo’s break spot.
For a demon who’d briefly died a mere week ago, he looked remarkably lively and absurdly pleased.
Tired, yes, with deep blue pits of fatigue beneath his golden-brown eyes, but those eyes sparkled with happiness, and the usual frown that pinched his forehead was missing for once.
They’d already touched base on an encrypted call earlier that day, so he didn’t preface his remarks with any personal matters. Instead he launched directly into the point of the meeting.
“Now that the most powerful fae conspirators have been identified and captured, I want you to focus on the insurrectionist faction within the common human government.” He spoke so quietly, even someone seated at the empty table next to theirs couldn’t have overheard his words.
“They’ve been remarkably wary and elusive to this point, and we still don’t know their identities.
That said, their first attempt to incite an interspecies war fell through, their parade plot got exposed by the kidnapped oracles, and all their fae allies have been arrested.
They’ll be in disarray and desperate to salvage their plans. ”
Unfortunately, the virulence of their xenophobia wouldn’t allow those common human insurrectionists to simply give up.
Especially not when their organizational structure was intact, all their ranks remained free, and they still retained the power of whatever positions they held in the government and military.
Hugh added, “They’ll also be eager for fresh allies within the fae community and any money or power those allies might be willing to lend them.”
Ah. Now she understood. “And that’s where I come in. I can glamour myself as a fae they’ve never met before, one sympathetic to their cause.”
He inclined his head. “How do you want to gain their trust?”
That was one of many reasons she appreciated her handler. While he was more than capable of giving orders when necessary, he also respected her own instincts and intelligence. If possible, he always asked for her input before formulating a plan.
They made a good team. And she had an equally good idea to share with him.
“My informants have indicated that you’re correct: The common human insurrectionists are desperate to restock their supply of fae allies. So much so that they intend to woo potential new fae conspirator couples at a luxurious weeklong party in Norway.”
He nodded. “At the Freyjasdal Resort.”
“You’ve already heard.” Foolishly, that dulled her momentary glow of pride. “Do you want me there, assuming I can garner an invitation?”
She would find a way to attend, even as a single participant. No matter what it took.
“Yes.” He hesitated. “But not alone.”
Well, that didn’t bode well for her next performance appraisal. “I apologize for my failure to uncover—”
“Thora.” He held up a hand, and she fell silent.
“You’ve done nothing wrong. You’re a lone spy whom I sent into a nest of vipers without any backup or previous experience, and under those circumstances, I’m not surprised that you weren’t able to unravel all the group’s plans in time.
I’m just grateful you made it out alive—especially since you’re far easier to kill than a full fae.
I don’t intend to leave you that vulnerable again, and the event is geared toward couples instead of individuals anyway. ”
She allowed herself one quiet protest. “I can handle myself.”
“I know.” He actually smiled at her. “You’re strong, smart, intuitive, detail oriented, impeccably discreet, well aware of both fae and human customs, and able to change your own appearance at will via glamours.”
Why was he buttering her up? To ease her guilt? Or did he suspect she wouldn’t like whatever plans he’d already set into motion?
“Unlike most half-fae, I can also glamour others,” she reminded him.
“I know,” he repeated. “Your partner’s safety will rely on that hidden talent. In return, he’ll offer you a more convincing cover story, along with whatever assistance and physical protection you might require.”
Hugh hesitated then. “Well…he’ll try, anyway. To the best of his abilities.”
What did that mean? But more importantly—“Who do you trust that much?”
“Someone who already knows about the conspiracy, understands the high stakes involved, and is willing to help our cause.” Another hesitation. “For a price.”
“A price?” Okay, she was now allowing herself two protests. No more than that, though. “You want me to infiltrate the group with a mercenary?”
“Not a mercenary. He doesn’t want money.” Hugh heaved a silent sigh. “Just unlimited lifetime access to the Sunday brunch buffets at several top-rated restaurants. Including one with a Michelin star.”
Thora prided herself on her unflappability and ability to smoothly adjust to any situation that might unexpectedly confront her. At this moment, however, she found herself entirely unsure of what to say.
“The house party starts in two days, and you need preparation and travel time, Thora.” Hugh sounded apologetic. “I couldn’t locate a better option on such short notice.”
Resigned, she waited in silence for the sword of Damocles to fall.
“You’re attending the party with a troll,” he told her. “He’ll portray your faux-fae husband, and I’m relying on your unparalleled espionage skills and secret glamouring ability to pull off the deception.”
And there it was. The sword piercing her unwitting head.
“A troll?” Her voice had risen from a whisper, so she took a calming breath to regain her composure. “That raises three areas of concern for me.”
Her boss nodded with zero surprise in his expression. “List them.”
“First, trolls tend to respond…unpredictably…to glamours.” Especially if those glamours were weaker than most, as hers tended to be.
“Second, trolls may possess enormous strength, but they also possess enormous”—she waved an illustrative hand toward the tiled ceiling—“enormity. They’re huge and loud and don’t go anywhere discreetly, which makes them essentially the opposite of a good spy. ”
He didn’t dispute any of those facts. “And third?”
“I don’t personally know any trolls”—although they were apparently a great deal of fun to be around, something that had rarely been said about her—“but by common reputation, they tend toward clumsiness and are incapable of deceit or subtlety.”
From what she’d heard, they were also none too bright. Which certainly wasn’t a mark against their good character, but would nevertheless make the vast majority of spying missions an insurmountable challenge to them.
“About that.” Hugh leaned in even closer and dropped his voice even lower. “They’ve been trolling everyone, Thora. Literally and figuratively.”
She blinked at him.
“Their gargantuan size…” He searched for the right words. “It may sometimes make them less graceful than desired. But they’re intelligent, shrewd, and loyal to a fault.”
If they’d managed to hide their native intelligence all these centuries, she supposed they’d have to be quite cunning. How in the world had they accomplished such a feat?
“They’re also very fond of gourmet food. Like, alarmingly fond.” He scratched at his beard. “At least, your intended partner, Kip, is all those things.”
Pulling his secure phone from his pocket, he sent a quick text, then rose to unlock the door again.
“And this…Kip…” Holy fuck, what an inane name. “He’s amenable to your plan? Willing to play my husband for an entire week, no matter what subterfuge that might entail?”
“More than willing. Eager.” Another silent sigh. “The buffets, you remember.”
Just then, the door to the coffeehouse flew open with such force that it bounced against the wall with a cacophonous clatter and its glass panels shivered ominously.
A golden-skinned, dark-haired troll burst through the entrance, even as the sound of hurried footsteps heralded Carlo’s imminent return to his storefront. Without a word, she got up, flipped the store’s sign back to OPEN, and retied the bell to the door’s inner handle before returning to her table.
Hugh remained standing, resignation written all over his tired face. “Kip, I asked you to enter as discreetly as possible.”
“That’s what I did, mini-demon-bro.” The troll beamed down at him. “Not my fault the door’s so thin and flimsy.”
In unison, Thora and Hugh glanced at the entrance.
It looked like a completely normal sort of door to her.
“You must be Thora!” the troll exclaimed, just as Carlo reemerged from the back room and positioned himself behind the service counter. “I’m Kip!”
She stifled a sigh. So much for her anonymity at this particular rendezvous point.
The troll held up a hand far above her head, very near the point where the high ceiling met the wall, as if demonstrating his extraordinary height.
“Lovely to meet you,” she said slowly. Also dishonestly. “And yes, you are very tall.”
His broad forehead crinkled, and his enormous hand waved. “Up top?”
“I’m sorry, what?” She looked to Hugh for help, but he was rubbing both of his own hands over his face, so she turned back to her new faux husband. “Did you…did you want something from me?”
The troll spoke to her slowly, enunciating each word as if she were the class dunce. “I want to high-five you.”
“Oh.” Had she high-fived anyone since elementary school? Not that she could remember. “All right.”
She raised her arm as high as possible and swung to clap his palm with hers. Only he miscalculated, so she met nothing but air, and then—
Oh, no.
“Sorry ’bout your speaker, bro,” Kip called out to Carlo. The troll frowned down at the shattered pieces of plastic on the floor, then hitched a thumb toward Hugh. “He’ll reimburse you for it. Get you an upgrade.”
With a long-suffering expression that Thora kind of felt like Hugh had earned—he’d paired her with this mountainous disaster of a troll, hadn’t he?—her boss left to go talk to Carlo at the counter.
“Um…yeah.” Kip raised his warm brown gaze to hers and sheepishly shifted his weight from one gargantuan foot to the other. “I didn’t mean to do that.”
“So I imagined,” she said dryly, mentally kissing her career—and possibly her life—goodbye.