City of Fae

I muttered a thanks and quickly retreated to the shower. No amount of soap and hot water was going to wash away the wretched guilt. Or the gut-churning sense of unease. Andrews knew about Faerie, or at least suspected. He wasn’t going to tell me anything; I was a reporter, and he was a professional, but I wanted to talk to him—needed to talk to someone.

I dressed in Andrews’s sister’s pink leggings, which were too tight, and a stretchy top that so wasn’t me, but I was grateful all the same. My reflection didn’t pull any punches. Dark eyes, pale lips. Exhausted. Wrung out. But that wasn’t all. I peered closer, eyes narrowed, and tried to place what had changed. My hair, my face … Something. I touched the faded bruise I’d received when getting up close and personal with the floor of a subway train. How many nights ago had that been? The bruise was almost gone. The mirror—I didn’t look as I remembered she should. Sure, I looked like me, of course I did, but also not like me. Poking at my cheek, around my eyes, it was all where it should be, but something fundamental had shifted. I tried to smile; dragged the twitch across my lips and pinned it to my face. My reflection grimaced back. “Idiot.” And then I remembered how I’d stabbed two fae cops, and my forced smile vanished. Would the FA tell the police? Or would Andrews cuff me and hand me over to the Fae Authority? No. I wasn’t subject to their laws. I was human. Human laws protected me. But they weren’t likely to forget what I’d done.

Venturing into the living room, I found Andrews standing in front of the TV, his back to me, watching the news, and I caught a glimpse of the period Kensington townhouses where Reign lived. “Hey …”

He flicked the TV off. “The FA have announced they’ve called-off the search for Sovereign. Seems they always get their man.”

“Oh.” Regret and fear must have shown on my face. I pinched them back behind a scowl, hoping Andrews wouldn’t notice. He did, of course. His eyes narrowed. Andrews was too astute to be fooled by my woeful attempt at lying.

“Miles called.”

“Miles?” I blinked.

“Detective Miles, my colleague. He’s dropping by to grab some paperwork.”

“Oh yes …” I reached for the back of the couch, needing something to keep me upright in case my legs gave out. The FA had Reign. What would they do to him? Keep him in Under? Worse? What would the queen do to him?

“Miles said the FA are looking for a woman, the same woman seen with Sovereign at a Mile End café. Would you happen to know who she might be?”

Oh God. Dragging that sorry smile across my lips I desperately tried to appear unruffled. And failed. “I thought you said you had a day off from detecting?”

“Police officers are always on the job.” He said it with a gentle smile, not entirely serious. “I have a responsibility to hand you in, but I won’t, at least not yet. I don’t answer to the FA. I want to hear from you what happened.”

I eased myself around the couch and dropped onto the edge of the cushion. “Maybe I should start from the beginning?”

“Seems like as good a place as any.”

I told him everything. Finding Reign near death on the platform, the fight with the general on the subway, the spiders in the printer room, the trip to Under, the queen, Reign’s apartment, omitting certain heated details. How the Fae Authority had barged in, and how I’d run away. Everything, while neglecting to mention how I’d stabbed two of the fae cops, or how I’d definitely seen the lick of green vapor spiraling from my fingers, or how my thoughts had sharpened, turned deadly. No, those details were my secrets to keep.

“The Keepers.” Andrews repeated. “That’s what links the three dead fae. We knew there had to be a connection. They’re the originators of the Fae Authority?” I nodded. “No wonder the FA have their knickers in a twist.” He sat next to me on the couch, his gaze jumpy as he worked through everything I’d told him.

“I think their deaths have more to do with the queen than their link with the Fae Authority.”

“The queen.” He frowned, more sympathy than disapproval. “And she’s … under London?”

“I know it sounds crazy.”

“Where under London exactly?”

“I don’t know. The place she’s trapped is a forgotten underground reservoir, not far from Chancery Lane, I guess. Reign took me there, but the tunnels all look the same. It’s one of those Victorian relics. It’ll be on a map, somewhere. And the queen, she was …” Words failed me. “She was horrible. I mean, she had these legs, and she sorta hissed, and …” He didn’t believe me, but he was trying his hardest to look as if he did. No matter what I said, I was never going to convince him, or anyone. Monsters didn’t exist. “You think I’m bespelled. That I’m hallucinating or something?”

He hesitated before answering, which was all the answer I needed. “How many times has he touched you?”

I closed my eyes and dropped back into the couch cushions. This was what I’d feared would happen. The fae couldn’t possibly have a nightmare for a queen. They’re too beautiful. Too perfect. The fact I was loopy was far more believable. “A few times …”