Fallen Fae Read online

  Fallen Fae

  Dark Fae F.B.I. Series

  C.N. Crawford

  Alex Rivers

  Contents

  Introduction

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  4. Stay in Touch

  Introduction

  This short story is a prequel to Agent of Enchantment, a novel that will be released April 12, 2017. For a description of Agent of Enchantment, see below.

  The fae live among us. And one of them is a serial killer.

  I thought this would be a simple profiling case. Just another Jack-the-Ripper wannabe, prowling London’s streets, searching for easy kills. I was wrong. This killer is fae, and he’s as elusive as smoke on the wind. But I’m an FBI profiler, and it’s my job to track him down.

  It doesn’t matter that one of the main suspects--a lethally alluring fae--is trying to seduce me… or kill me, I’m not sure which. I won’t be stopped, not even when panic roils through the streets of London, or when the police start to suspect me.

  As I close in on the killer, I follow him to a magical shadow realm that’s like nothing I ever expected, where I’m hunted like prey. Fine. Bring it on. I’m an FBI Agent. And it turns out I have magical powers of my own.

  1

  Tonight, fear hung heavy in the London air, and panic spread across the modern city like a miasma—as well it should. A powerful predator stalked the streets, ripping open frail human bodies and discarding them like broken toys.

  From the shadows of a stone building, I stared at a fresh human kill, the metallic scent of blood surrounding me.

  The woman wore silver jewelry and a thin yellow dress, now soaked with gore. Clearly, if she’d known who’d been hunting her tonight, she would’ve worn iron.

  My pulse raced as I took in the horrific scene. Her organs had been ripped from her body, and blood glistened in the faint glow of the streetlight.

  But I didn’t have time to linger here, looking at the corpse. At any moment, the police would show up. The poor sods would try to piece together a crime they had no chance of understanding—but even as gormless as they were, I didn’t need them to spot me, an enormous man lurking in the shadows of a murder scene.

  I’d be back later, when Cassandra arrived. For now, I had another woman to meet for dinner.

  I turned, rushing through London’s shadows like smoke on the wind, moving swiftly past the glittering city lights and groaning metal vehicles. As I slipped over London Bridge, I caught snippets of human conversations: the rumors about the murders. Their fear thrummed over my body, energizing me.

  South of the Thames River, I found my way to the old crumbling ruin that would bring me back to the fae realm. Cloaked in shadows, the remnants of Winchester Palace lay on a dark back street in Southwark.

  Lucky for me, no one was around to see me jump over the railing and land in a grassy pit. For what I was about to do, I couldn’t have any witnesses. As they had done with the old palace itself, Londoners had long since forgotten the fae—and I intended to keep it that way.

  As I crossed the soft grass, primeval magic pulsed through my veins. Long ago, the palace had boasted a marble floor and a glittering vaulted ceiling, but a few stone walls were all that remained now.

  Just below an arched window lay a smooth stone marked with tiny silver branches. Worn from centuries of touching, it almost gleamed in the moonlight. This was my ticket home. I traced my fingertips over the painted boughs and whispered the ancient fae words to open the portal.

  Magic pulsed through me, lighting up my veins with a strange sort of ecstasy. With a burst of magic, I shifted into our cramped portal—a hollowed-out oak. For some reason only the gods understood, our fae leaders had created our gateway in a tree that didn’t quite accommodate the breadth of a fae male.

  I slipped from the hollow of the oak, and stepped out into the heavy summer air. In the grove, just below Trinovantum Palace, moonlight filtered through the branches, igniting the loamy floor with sparks of dancing silver.

  I glanced between the boughs, checking the position of Cassiopeia across from the north star. Late, as usual.

  My beautiful friend Elrine was probably already in my room, eager for dinner, plotting, and news of London.

  * * *

  But, to my surprise, Elrine wasn’t there when I arrived. Servants had laid out the food I’d ordered, and a carafe of malmsey wine waited on the mahogany table. I poured a glass for myself and sat in a chair by the window. I should be able to watch my old friend arrive from here through one of the winding paths in the courtyard.

  As always in Trinovantum palace, my sword—Verbeia—lay within arm’s reach. Even though I was now an important figure in the King’s court, I certainly wasn’t welcome by all the fae. Old resentments died hard.

  Still, as long as I had my Tamesiam blade within a few feet of me, it didn’t matter if the fae nobility liked me. In fact, right now I had a particularly desperate urge to sink her sharp tip into a royalist’s flesh...

  But that wasn’t in the cards for tonight. Tonight, I had a conspiracy to plan.

  If the Callach and the oracles were correct, someone very important would be arriving in London tonight. I had only an hour or two to discuss this with Elrine before rushing back to the modern city.

  I glanced at myself in the reflection of my sword’s blade. I was the last of the Tarasin line, my heritage etched on my face: the strong jaw, the green eyes, the dimpled chin. The fae nobility who hated me would never forget my lineage.

  Taking a sip of the wine, I let the lightly spiced drink roll over my tongue. There had been a time when malmsey, claret, and vernage flowed freely from the fountains in the fae realm, but our dear king had put an end to that.

  I shifted in my chair, taking in the room. I’d tried to make this place look as much like my real home as possible: oak furniture, a fur rug, and a stone fireplace carved with images of stags. On the mahogany table in the center of the room lay the dinner of salmon stew and rye bread, steam still curling from the bowls.

  Where in the gods’ names was Elrine? She wasn’t normally late to see me. In fact, normally she showed up early, before I’d had a chance to dress. She would take off her cloak, grab a wineglass, and put her feet up on my table, giving me a view of her long legs as her dress rode up. Within three minutes, she would be deep into one of her ribald stories—I believed the last one had detailed a romance between a Duke of the House of Balor and a tryst with a scaly merrow from the Barinthian Sea.

  In any case, she never failed to make me laugh.

  But—more importantly now—she was also a crucial soldier in the shadow army, just as I was.

  So where in Danu’s name was she? Tonight was an important night for us. Tonight, I was going to target an important player in our conspiracy against the king. In just a few hours, I would make contact with a woman—a dangerous one, one who knew nothing of her past but held the secret to my future.

  My throat tightened. Elrine should definitely be here by now.

  I slid my wine onto the table, then rose. Crossing to the bed, I pulled on my leather armor, then slung my scabbard around my back. I grabbed Verbeia and slid her into her sheath. Unquiet thoughts roiled in my mind. If Elrine had been discovered as a conspirator against the king—

  I wouldn’t let myself entertain the thought for long. Gritting my teeth, I pulled open the oak door into the vaulted hall and sniffed the air, trying to catch Elrine’s scent of heather and grass.

  Nothing.

  Frowning, I stalked though the arched hall. Flowering vines climbed the sandstone walls, and windows hung open to the summer air. I did catch a floral whiff of other fae, dining out in the Erecura garden. But Elrine wasn’t
among them.

  I pushed through a thick oak door to a set of stairs strangled with ivy. To my right, in an elder grove, two fae nobles from the House of Ernmas—Elrine’s house—sat at a table, rolling bone dice. I recognized the female—Avelina, her name was—but didn’t know the male with her.

  As fae of the meadow court, both wore flowers: he wore foxglove on his lapel; she had wildflowers threaded through her raven hair and wore a butter-yellow cloak. Tiny orbs of light glowed above them, washing them in flickering amber.

  Avelina shook her fist, letting three bone dice spill across the table. She scowled at them. “A four, a three, and a one. What good are those numbers? I never manage to roll the divine combinations.”

  The male grinned, letting his forked tongue flick out of his mouth. “And I have twenty three. But of course, the godsssss look favorably on me.”

  As I descended the stairs, Avelina turned to look at me, her face brightening. “Taranis!” she trilled, using my family name.

  I stiffened. Did she do that to mock me, or just as a courtesy? “Roan is fine,” I said.

  She stood, gliding toward me. “Won’t you sit by my side as I play? I’m having no luck rolling the beautiful numbers. Glenn is winning everything.” She let her eyes run up and down my body appreciatively. “And I think with the last of the Taranis by my side, I might have better luck when it comes to attracting beauty.”

  Glenn growled. “Get away from him, Avelina. You know what he isssss.”

  Cold anger tightened my chest, but I schooled my face to calm. I had to play the game.

  Avelina frowned, running her fingers over my armor. “Things are different now. He’s been reformed and returned to court. Haven’t you, Taranis?”

  Ignoring her question, I sniffed the air again, trying to catch Elrine’s scent once more. Nothing.

  “I’m looking for a member of your house.”

  “Well, I’m here.” Avelina slid her arms around my neck, pushing her body against mine.

  My hand cupped her lower back. Considering our king’s laws, she was acting quite boldly. “And I’m pleased that you are here, Avelina, but I’m looking for Elrine.”

  Avelina stiffened. “Shhhh…” she whispered in my ear. “You don’t want to be associated with her.”

  “Avelina,” Glenn snarled. “Get away from him.”

  My pulse began to race, and I stared at the two fae, pulling Avelina’s arms from my neck. “What do you mean, I don’t want to be associated with her?”

  Pouting, Avelina crossed her arms. “She’s a traitor. Glenn found her conspiring with one of the prisoners.”

  A chill went through me. I knew what this meant: Elrine had been compromised. My dearest friend, in the hands of the king’s torturers and wardens.

  Elrine wouldn’t survive long in the king’s prisons. She was a free spirit, full of happiness and light. She didn’t have the reserves of rage and hate to help her keep her sanity intact.

  Glenn stood, pressing his hands on the table. “And what, exactly did you have planned with her tonight? Were you part of her plot?”

  Two courses of action flickered through my head. In one of them, I ran my sword through Glenn’s neck, feeding his blood to the garden’s cowslips and primroses. In the other, I marshaled all the control in my grasp and used rational thought to guide my actions.

  I chose the second path. I wouldn’t be able to free Elrine from the King’s prison if I found myself behind its bars.

  My jaw tightened. “She is no traitor,” I said, my icy words belying my anger. In one sense, it was a lie: she was a traitor to the king. But she was no traitor to our realm, and to the ancient fae republic—that was the king himself. “I think you must be mistaken.”

  Glenn shook his head. “I’m afraid not, Taranisssss. I saw it with my own eyesssss.”

  “And did you report Elrine to the King’s guards?” I asked, working hard to mask my rage.

  I was certain I saw a glimmer of fear in his eyes. Good. He had a reason to fear me. When the right time came, I’d make sure his death was painful.

  How would I kill him when the time came? Maybe I’d rip his lungs through his back, before tearing off his head.

  He should have known better than to enrage the last of the Taranis line.

  Glenn swallowed hard. “I’m only protecting the king. I’m sure you would do the same.” He stood, his legs shaking.

  The raw fear he displayed only emboldened my predatory instincts, and it took everything in my willpower not to slaughter him right there.

  “Where is she now?” I growled. “Will she get a trial?”

  He crossed his arms, attempting defiance. “I know your history, Taranisssss. The only reason the king has restored you to court is that he needsssss you to handle the elder fae. Otherwise, you’d be thrown into the prison with your traitorousssss friend.” He tightened his fist. “Of courssssse, Hawkwood Prison was your home for yearsssss, wasn’t it? So you shouldn’t mind so much.”

  Quite bold talk for someone whose hands were shaking uncontrollably.

  “Where is she?” I repeated, nearly at the end of my patience.

  “Gentlemen.” Avelina flicked her hair over her shoulder. “I can see you’re both passionate about this topic, but there’s nothing to be done at this point. I imagine Elrine’s already behind the prison walls by now.” Her forehead wrinkled. “You do realize she’ll never make it out again, don’t you? You’re the only fae with the honor of leaving the prison walls.”

  Grief tightened my heart. I’d failed her already.

  2

  My horse, Oberon, carried me through the winding stone streets of Trinovantum, past the ancient temples of Elphame and the Britomart fountain.

  Perhaps one of the goddesses could save us tonight. I closed my eyes, imagining Danu in all her glory, her power breathtaking.

  At the city’s edge, I sped between the marble gates, set in walls climbing with the silver branches. Oberon carried me along a winding path into Hawkwood Forest, where oaks nearly blocked out the moonlight. As I moved along the path, dread began to bloom in my chest. Somehow, I knew I was already too late.

  Avelina was right: once the king’s guards dragged Elrine within the prison walls, nothing would get her out again. The only reason I’d escaped the prison all those years ago was that the king had been desperate for my help with the Elder fae. Elrine had no such skills.

  Sorrow tightened my chest as Oberon’s feet pounded the earth. How in the gods’ names would I save her? I didn’t want to think about what they’d do to her in there, but I knew it all too well. They’d use her in the most horrendous way…

  Pain gripped my heart. The wind whipped at my skin as I rode on. And, deep within Hawkwood Forest, a dreadful cry pierced the night.

  I glanced up, my stomach clenching. Shadows whirled in the sky above me, and dark wings beat the air. A troop of sluagh, the dreadful shifters lured by sorrow, circled above me.

  Grief was a dangerous thing in the fae wilds. I should have known better than to let sadness overcome me out here.

  The sight of them—enormous black birds, their feathers dark as a void, their eyes the piercing white of a star—sent a shudder through my body. Their mournful calls, the stuff of nightmares, pierced the night.

  Fear tightened my grip on Oberon’s reins. There wasn’t much in the world of fae or humans that scared me, but the sluagh stole the breath from my lungs.

  The birds circled lower between the oak branches, and the whispers of their condemned souls filled my skull. I slowed Oberon’s pace to a canter, trying to slow the beating of my heart. I wouldn’t be much use to Elrine if the sluagh ripped my soul from my body.

  Circling lower, they reached the earth and burst into fae forms. They stood before me—tall and thin, faces gaunt, draped in tattered gray cloaks.

  Surrounded by the unholy horde, I drew my horse to an abrupt halt.

  A female with silvery hair and long, bony fingers stepped forward—Agrona.
I’d heard the stories about the legendary fae, but I’d hoped never to meet her in person. My blood roared in my ears.

  “Roan Taranis,” she croaked with the voice of a thousand tormented souls.

  The sound of her words slid through my bones, and I felt the icy fingers of death clutch my heart. I cleared my throat, tightening my thighs on Oberon. I needed to keep a clear head, or I’d be lost forever.

  “I’m on my way to Hawkwood prison. I don’t have much time left.”

  “You don’t have any time at all,” Agrona said, her words piercing my chest. “Elrine is trapped behind the stone walls of Hawkwood Prison already. You know this. I can feel your grief, and it delights me. Join us.”

  I swallowed hard. The sluagh were incapable of lying. If Agrona said it was too late, then it was too late.

  That left me one option: I had to get out of here, and carry on alone with my plan to destroy the king. I would free Elrine when I overthrew him.

  And that all began tonight, with the pixie girl on her way to London. She alone could give me the leverage I needed.

  But as I looked into Agrona’s face, my iron will began to slip. Her piercing gaze promised a sweet release from earthly torments, the eternal rest of the grave…

  She stepped closer, and the sluagh horde hissed with excitement. Agrona touched my leg, and icy dread shuddered through my body. Her gaze transfixed me. Slowly, she reached up for my face, and I found myself dismounting, moving closer to her.

  Tormented screams rang in my mind—the screams of a woman tortured in Hawkwood Prison, the sound of her death rattle.

  “Roan Taranis,” Agrona sang, her voice a chorus of thousands. “Your sadness calls to me.”

  Her icy hands roamed under my shirt, and I found myself wanting to give in to her, wanting to escape to the void…

  But I couldn’t die here tonight—not alone, not with my plans in utter ruin.