Court of Darkness: A Demons of Fire and Night Novel (Institute of the Shadow Fae Book 2) Read online

  Court of Darkness

  Institute of the Shadow Fae: Book Two

  C.N. Crawford

  Copyright © 2018 by C.N. Crawford

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Also by C.N. Crawford

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  I had less than a minute before the dragon shifter found me in his bedroom. The rich bastard had a private lift that opened right into his hallway. Through his bedroom doorway, I could see the numbers ticking up as the lift rose from the lobby. Two…three…

  If it reached forty-one, the jig was up.

  Frantically, I scanned the room. I stood on the forty-first floor of a sleek skyscraper in the center of London. Wind whipped into the room from the open balcony door. Moonlight streamed in through the expansive windows, casting silvery light over tasteful gray and gold furniture. From here, the gleaming lights of London spread out below like glittering treasure.

  Only problem was, I couldn’t find the actual treasure, and that was the whole reason I’d come.

  The lift’s number ticked up. Eight…nine...

  The white spotlight from my headlamp bounced all over the darkened room. Where the hells was he keeping his gold? All dragon shifters had gold. This one wasn’t big on clutter, so it hadn’t taken long to ransack his entire flat. Hunger gripped my stomach. Ciara and I were starving, and I was not leaving empty-handed. The great heroine Ciarianna would rise again.

  My stomach rumbled. In the past week, we’d had nothing to eat but three tins of economy beans and two ice cream sandwiches. I could hardly think straight. I hadn’t felt this hungry since I’d murdered the Institute’s hunger fae.

  Twelve…thirteen…

  The bathroom. I hadn’t fully investigated the bathroom yet, and he had a medicine cabinet I needed to rifle through. I rushed into the bathroom, flinging open the cabinet.

  I blinked. Among the painkillers and some anti-anxiety medication, the shifter had filled his cabinet with Barbie dolls and plastic dinosaur figurines. Not to mention two tubs of Vaseline.

  What in the world…?

  I didn’t dwell on it too long, because in the next second, I was crouching down to search under the sink. Toilet roll, cleaning products, an enormous vat of Vaseline. I mean, I supposed a dragon shifter’s scales would get dry in the winter.

  Twenty…twenty-one…

  Under his bed. I hadn’t yet searched under his bed. It was a stupid place to hide gold, but I hadn’t found a sensible hiding place. Like a safe.

  I knelt down and flung up the silver duvet. The white light from my headlamp beamed over a bunch of magazines.

  I pulled one out, and my jaw dropped. First of all, in this day and age, who read porn in magazine form? And more importantly—where did one find magazines featuring women mating with men dressed as dinosaurs?

  I mean, I supposed when you thought about it, maybe it made a strange sort of sense. Dragon-on-human porn would get old after a while, and he’d need to up the ante. One kink level up from dragons was obviously dinosaurs, and—

  Twenty-nine…thirty…

  Right. The gold. My wild hunger was making me get sidetracked. Still, I was taking one of these magazines with me because no one would ever believe—

  On second thought, maybe I didn’t really want to touch it. Thinking of all the Vaseline, I dropped it with a grimace.

  Thirty-four…thirty-five…

  I leapt up, scanning the room again. Now, adrenaline raced through my veins. I was out of time. I touched the lumen stone around my neck—on loan from the Wraith—and reassured myself that I still had a way out of here. Shadow-leaping came in very handy sometimes, even at six hundred feet in the air.

  Then, my gaze landed on the one thing in the flat I hadn’t yet searched. A potted orchid that stood on a mahogany table in his bedroom. A perfect hiding place.

  Thirty-eight…thirty-nine…

  I thrust my hand into the soil, and relief washed over me as my fingers came into contact with a smooth, metallic bar.

  Bingo.

  Forty-one.

  The lift doors slid open just as I ripped the gold bar from the plant. Dirt flew all over the shifter’s sleek gray sofa. I slid my bug-out bag off my shoulder and shoved the bar into it.

  Now, I just needed to find a way out. Good thing I’d been practicing shadow-leaping. I touched the lumen stone, summoning its icy power as I rushed out onto the balcony.

  Behind me, the dragon shifter roared, already transforming into his reptilian form. Scales were forming on his face and arms, but if he fully shifted in here, he’d break everything in the bloody flat. He was practically vibrating with the effort to restrain himself. Talons began to sprout from his fingertips.

  I scrambled over the wooden table on his balcony, then climbed onto the short barrier of glass. Adrenaline raced through my veins as the view dizzied me. The lights of Spitalfields twinkled below me. Gods, this was high.

  The shifter screamed something, but since he kept shifting and pulling back to his human form, it came out all garbled. Half-dragon speak. Something like mablig blupart plucking skrill you!

  I stood on the glass barrier, the wind tearing at my hair, and my heart raced out of control. Time to go.

  A blast of hot fire seared the air behind me, and I leapt off the balcony before I had a chance to properly choose my target.

  I gripped hard to my backpack straps as I started falling, the wind whipping my hair into my face. My stomach lurched, and I started to regret several of the night’s decisions.

  Through the strands of my lavender hair, I spotted a dark corner of Wormwood Street. Mentally, I melded with its shadows, smelling the seared-air scent of the magic within all darkness. Then, I channeled my shadow magic. I leapt.

  I slammed hard onto concrete, rolling over the ground with a grunt. Pretty sure the gold bar in my backpack left a dent in my spine.

  The impact had rattled my bones. So, I was learning that shadow leaping when you’re already falling at a high velocity only took some of the impact out of the fall. If I were human, I’d be dead now. But as a demi-fae, I escaped with a few fractures and a shitload of bruises.

  My gaze flicked up the sleek skyscraper. Dragons could fly, but there was no way this guy was coming after me. Supernaturals had been completely outlawe
d for the past four years. Executions and assassinations meant the shifters had to lay low, disguise themselves completely. Which meant I could take his gold bar—

  My thoughts were interrupted by the sight of a man’s silhouette plunging off the balcony, just as I’d done. My pulse began to race. This wasn’t what I’d expected.

  The dragon shifter started to fall, his descent picking up pace, until—midair—black, scaly wings burst from his back.

  Okay. Maybe I’d overestimated his intelligence. With a flagrant display of magic like this, he’d be dead within a day, never to defile his dinosaur figurines again.

  In the air, he shifted completely, rearing back his head to eject a hot stream of fire into the midnight sky.

  Oh boy. London hadn’t seen a reptilian display like this in years.

  I jumped up, eyeing the farthest point I could see on Wormwood Street. At this time of night, the streets were mercifully empty.

  I summoned the icy shadow magic, channeling it throughout my limbs. Then, I melded with the dark pools of shadows under a pedestrian crossway. I began shadow-leaping through the financial district—past pharmacies and skyscrapers—using alleyways and the darkness beneath the trees lining the street. The wind rushed over my skin, and my heart hammered from the flight. I leapt into a medieval churchyard, melding with the shadows behind a crooked tomb. It was three in the morning, and I hardly passed anyone.

  But while I raced through the city, moving like the wind through the trees, the dragon soared just above me, managing to track my path. His fire scalded the air. I glanced up, my blood roaring, as he started to dive for me.

  With the magic igniting my body, I shadow-leapt across the street. I needed to hide from him, to go underground. Fortunately, I used to live under the streets, and I knew how to navigate subterranean London.

  I leapt south, zooming closer to Guildhall, until I screeched to a halt by a manhole. Beneath this pavement flowed one of London’s underground rivers.

  A wild roar ripped through the skies as I glanced up, my heart skipping a beat, and saw the dragon dive-bombing for me.

  With a grunt, I shifted the manhole cover. I jumped into the hole and dropped down into three feet of freezing, stinking water. From above, a blast of fire exploded through the manhole opening, singeing the hair on the back of my arms. With magic flowing through my body, I leapt away into the tunnel’s darkness.

  Underground, shadows reigned. Only the bouncing white light of my headlamp pierced the darkness.

  The dragon’s enormous body wouldn’t be able to fit through the hole, and in his human form, he’d never catch up with me. Now, the tunnel was mine. I leapt through the darkness, the water growing higher and higher on my body, past my hips, my ribs, until it covered my head.

  I dove deeper into the cold water, swimming under the surface. Once underwater, I wasn’t able to shadow-leap, and my lungs started to burn. My headlamp flickered out.

  At this point, the dragon must be long gone. I could only hope he hadn’t been clever enough to predict where I’d emerge out of the tunnel.

  Just when I was certain my lungs were about to explode, thin streams of light pierced the water as the tunnel opened up into the Thames—London’s largest river, no longer underground.

  I kicked my feet as hard as I could, rushing up to the surface. I gasped, sucking in air. I scrambled for the stone embankment, then hoisted myself over the edge. A quick glance at the sky told me that the dragon hadn’t caught up with me yet.

  Unfortunately, a low iron fence blocked my path to the pavement. Iron would burn me if I touched it, though it wouldn’t kill me.

  Grimacing, I gripped the iron bars, wincing at the pain. Fast as I could, I climbed it, then leapt over the top. Exhausted, I flung myself down on the pavement. I rolled over on my back, my backpack bulky beneath my spine. I stared up at the night sky, catching my breath.

  It took me a moment to get my bearings. I’d ended up just south of the river. Here, the streetlamps cast amber light over an empty walkway and neat rows of plane trees. My little white sundress clung to my body.

  It wasn’t just the underwater swim that had exhausted me, but the overuse of shadow magic. My muscles buzzed and burned. Shadow magic wasn’t native to my body like it was to Ruadan’s. I could draw it from the lumen stone, but it tended to overwhelm me and wear me out. This must be what drug addicts felt like on a comedown.

  On the pavement, I closed my eyes for just a moment, still gasping for air, when a familiar power brushed over my skin—a dark, sensual magic that raised goosebumps on my body.

  When I opened my eyes, I was staring into the penetrating, violet gaze of Ruadan.

  Chapter 2

  Moonlight sculpted the perfect planes of his face. My heart thumped harder against my ribs.

  I clasped my hand to my chest, staring up at him.

  When I’d imagined running into Ruadan again, I hadn’t pictured myself lying flat on my back in a dress soaked in dirty river water.

  “Hi, Ruadan.” The sight of him sent a rush of energy through my blood, but I feigned a casual tone. “What are you doing here skulking by the riverside?”

  A gust of wind picked up his cloak. I glimpsed the armor that gleamed underneath, sculpting his body. His shadowy magic lashed the air around him, and a shiver rippled over my wet skin.

  My stomach loudly rumbled, giving away my hunger. “You can calm down with your menacing display of magic.” I pushed myself up, sitting upright. “You’re already dressed like a medieval undertaker. The shadows are just intimidation overkill.”

  The wind rustled through the nearby leaves.

  “Back to your silence, then. Even though you killed Baleros and completed your task.” I pushed a lock of sodden lavender hair out of my eyes. “Did you know that dinosaur porn exists?”

  So quiet it was almost inaudible, I heard a low growl rumble from Ruadan’s chest, and the sound trembled through my gut.

  The silence stretched on. Then, as I looked up at Ruadan, a wild roar rent the air. My body tensed, as a burst of flame cut across the sky. The dragon had found me, and he was dive-bombing again, unleashing his fire.

  Ruadan unsheathed the sword on his back, whirling to face the dragon. An intense pulse of icy magic burst through the air, and violet magic danced over his sword.

  As the dragon raced for us—only twenty feet away now—shadow-magic exploded from Ruadan’s sword. It slammed into the dragon’s chest, and ice frosted the creature’s scales. Instantly, the dragon’s flames were snuffed out. As it screeched to a stop on the pavement, Ruadan leapt. He swung his blade, and it carved into the dragon’s neck. Blood arced into the air.

  The dragon’s head rolled onto the pavement, his dark eyes wide. The creature’s body shuddered, then slumped to the ground with a loud thud. The two detached pieces—head and body—shifted back into their human form one final time.

  When Ruadan turned back to me, cold fury had darkened his eyes. I couldn’t say he looked particularly happy to see me.

  I stood, my teeth chattering. I crossed my arms, wishing I’d worn something other than white for my little river swim. My dress looked completely transparent, and I felt vulnerable enough standing in front of Ruadan.

  Ruadan crossed to a plane tree, just behind the dragon shifter’s headless corpse. To my surprise, he knelt before the tree. He lifted his sword, and plunged it into the soil that surrounded the tree’s base. He bowed his head, as if in prayer. His body glowed with violet light, and I breathed in his scent—apples and pine. It was a strangely seductive smell, one that curled around my shivering body, warming me from the inside out.

  It took me a moment to figure out what he was doing, until I cast my mind back to Grand Master Savus’s little history lesson. The Shadow Fae didn’t think of themselves as assassins. They viewed themselves as servants of the old fae gods—gods who demanded sacrifices. In Ruadan’s mind, the dragon’s death had been a sacrifice—blood to feed the soil of those older than even the
fae.

  When he rose, the coldness in his eyes sent a shiver up my spine. They had gone completely dark.

  Shadows in an incubus’s eyes meant one of two things: he was turned on, or he wanted to kill someone. And unless I was way off about Ruadan’s tastes, I didn’t imagine that dragon decapitation got him in the mood.

  I cleared my throat. “You said you’d find me, and now you have. Well done. Your tracking abilities are without parallel.”

  His silence never failed to unnerve me, and his low growl slid through my bones. As his eyes pierced me, a gust of wind toyed with his hair. His tightly coiled body language was that of an animal about to attack its prey.

  I heaved a sigh. “How I’ve missed your sparkling personality.” I touched the lumen stone at my neck. “I thought you could speak again, now that you killed Baleros.”

  Blood-chilling stillness from the Wraith. I was starting to get the impression he was annoyed that I’d been using the lumen stone to burgle gold.

  “Look, I’m staying with my human friend, Ciara,” I said. “She and I needed to eat. You said you’d be back for me, and that I wasn’t finished at the Institute. But I had no idea when that would be. We spent a month in Scotland, unemployed and starving. I managed to find a bar job for one week, but my boss thought he could withhold my paycheck until I showed him my boobs. Naturally, I was forced to throw him through a window, after which point my employment was unceremoniously terminated. Which was absurd, frankly. Humans are so sensitive about scrapes and bruises.”