City of Fae

Like rats, I thought, and winced.

“The tunnels under London served as an ideal hiding place. Some, the most careful of us, would come and go, blend in with the city residents, but it wasn’t enough. We saw what the people had, and we wanted it too. We weren’t content to hide forever. We can’t. It’s not in our nature. Once we revealed ourselves, and the initial integration problems were ironed out with the introduction of the Trinity Law, the FA allowed some of us, those who had earned the right to roam, to leave Under. But only the fae have access. A home for some, a prison for others.”

We’d come and gone from Under freely enough. At least, it had felt like that, but it had also felt wrong, as though disconnected from the reality of London. Like the fae themselves, Under wasn’t exactly normal. “If you like the limelight so much, why do any of the fae stay in Under?”

“There are social layers; some fae, like me, have earned certain privileges, but the others either don’t want to or don’t possess the right kind of social skills.”

I gathered “the right kind of social skills” meant they weren’t monstrous beasts. “Like the queen?”

“Yes, but she’s been deliberately trapped. She’s unstable. She has been for a long time. The iron used in the tunnels and the underground reservoir help keep her there, but there’s more to it than that. She can’t—or shouldn’t be able to—escape.”

“Something’s changed?”

He nodded and scratched at an eyebrow, shifting restlessly in the seat. “Time, mostly. She’s had centuries to weave her plans. Her power here is limited, but she can manipulate those around her.” He paused. I encouraged him with a nod. “She’s getting help,” he said. “Not all fae agree with how we live. The queen, weak as she is, shouldn’t be able to create constructs, but she is. The fae must be taking her victims.”

I swallowed hard. “Some fae are feeding her people?”

He leaned both arms on the table, bringing him closer, closing the conversation down around us so we need only speak in whispers. “Fae magic, our draíocht, can be used to create constructs when mixed with organic elements, like the spider construct the queen sent after you at the Metro offices. Only a few fae can do it, which is why you’ve not heard of it. But to weave draíocht in that manner … It’s exhausting. Creating constructs should leave her completely drained.”

I tasted my coffee. Memories of the queen’s encounter with Reign had goose bumps rising across my skin again. “She didn’t look drained.”

“No, she’s getting stronger because she’s feeding, among other reasons.”

Oh God. “Is she killing people?”

He toyed with the packets, fingers working, teasing; fixing all of his attention to that one spot. “I’ve tried to search the tunnels, but Under isn’t always easy to navigate. There are other things down there that shouldn’t be disturbed. If she has a larder, I’ve not found any evidence.”

Thousands of people were reported missing in London each year. Were the fae taking them? Killing them? No, the fae needed draíocht. They didn’t kill their victims; bespellment made their “pets” pliable and susceptible, easier to feed from. If the queen wasn’t killing them, perhaps they were alive somewhere under London. Andrews needed to know this. Maybe he could do something.

“How can you let this happen?” I asked, unable to hide the disgusted hiss. “Can you stop her?”

He winced, and I recalled how he’d dropped to his knees in front of her. Was he helping her? He’d already told me he wasn’t innocent. “It’s not that simple.”

“Of course it is. She’s trapped, right? Find out who’s helping her, take them out. I saw you fight the general. You’re capable—”

“I’ve tried, but many don’t talk to me in Under. They don’t like how easily I’ve integrated with the people here, or how close I am to the queen.” His skittish gaze wandered anywhere but to me. “They don’t trust my allegiances.”

“Tell the FA. They must know what’s going on.”

“They do …”

I recoiled. “The FA know and they aren’t doing anything?”

“As far as they’re concerned, the queen is contained. There’s no evidence she’s doing anything untoward. Rumors and whispers aren’t enough.”

“Reign, this can’t be allowed to continue. If you don’t do something, I’ll go back down there with my cell phone and take pictures. I’ll tell the world.”

“You can’t.” Head bowed, watching his fingers work, he continued to avoid looking at me. I might have thought he was ashamed, if I believed rock star Reign was capable of shame.

“Why not?”