Black Ops Fae (A Spy Among the Fallen #2)
C.N. Crawford
Chapter 1
In the forest outside Hotemet Castle, I nursed a small, silver flask. In the amber morning light, Hazel and Elan walked by my side.
Just three fae out for a walk among the oaks. Two of us pretending to be demons.
I scanned the forest, my chest tightening as I thought of Johnny. I’d buried his scrawny angel ass in a shallow grave out here, but angels were immortal. I had no idea how long it would take him to recover. At any minute, he could come bounding out of the soil, hunting for me with murder on his mind.
I’d just be keeping that particular image to myself for now. No reason to spoil our evening stroll.
“I like it here.” Hazel chomped into the cheese and onion pasty she’d snagged from the kitchen, the crumbs flaking over her black clothes. “We get to go outside and talk to each other and stuff.”
Elan frowned. “And you couldn’t in the dragon lair?”
“Nope.” Hazel’s mop of black curls tumbled over her shoulders. Like me, she was glamoured as a succubus, which meant that wisps of shimmering magic lifted from her body in steamy tendrils.
Warm light washed over Elan’s pale skin and gaunt features. He grabbed the flask, taking a sip of Irish coffee—spiked with just the right amount of scotch.
Don’t judge. Things had been stressful lately.
Another spray of crumbs over Hazel’s clothes. “And the dragon food wasn’t this good,” she said through a mouthful of pie. “They ate a lot of sheep. Not flavored or anything. Just sheep they caught and then roasted in their fire-breath.”
I finished the last bite of my own pie. “I guess that would make sense.” I really didn’t want to talk about dragon shifters, or think about them, or know what I might find on their menu. “Since they’re giant, disgusting lizard people.”
In her leather outfit, Hazel looked so much older than the last time I’d seen her—older than a sixteen-year-old should look, and I was pretty sure she’d spiked her own flask of coffee with the scotch.
But considering she’d spent a year among the dragons, I supposed a few changes were to be expected.
Our feet crunched over leaves and twigs as we walked.
Smiling, Hazel nudged Elan with her elbow. “You know what you remind me of? A starving egret.”
“Hazel!” I snapped. The dragons certainly hadn’t taught her any manners.
Hazel widened her dark eyes. “What? It’s not an insult. It’s just because of the paleness, and the thinness, and the haunted look in his eyes. As if he’d spent years in captivity eating frogs.”
“A hundred forty-seven years,” he confirmed. “Working in troll mines. Frogs were an infrequent delicacy.” He scratched his cheek. “From what I understand, some people like the haunted bird look.”
“There are all kinds of people,” Hazel agreed and sipped her coffee.
Elan took another swig from the flask, then wiped the back of his sleeve across his mouth. “I should probably get back to my cooking duties before one of the angels vaporizes me. I’ve been asked to roast a pig for lunch. Kratos’s favorite.” He turned, stalking off through the forest without another word.
And at last, I was alone with my sister. Considering we’d only reunited yesterday, we still had a lot to talk about.
As soon as Elan was completely out of earshot, I grabbed my sister’s arm. “Hazel. I need to fill you in on a few things.”
“Let me guess,” she whispered. “You’re pretending to be a succubus so the angels will let you stay in the nice castle with the nice food.”
Honestly. How shallow did she think I was? “Not exactly. I mean, I’m not complaining about the food, but I’m here as a spy. I’m working with the Order to stop them from wrecking the earth any more than they already have.”
“Why the hell would you do that?”
My jaw dropped open. “Because they kill people, Hazel, in case that’s escaped your notice. Please don’t tell me that you’re fine with that.”
She pursed her lips, shrugging. “It doesn’t matter if I’m fine with it. It’s happening, and we can either adapt to the new world, or starve like peasants in the dirt. Those are our options.”
Anger flared. She’d become a bit jaded in the past two years, but maybe living among fire-breathing reptiles did that to a girl.
“I’m not adapting,” I whispered. “I’m fighting them. You should be, too.” I scanned the forest again, my heart thudding at the idea that Johnny could be lurking out here somewhere.
Hazel arched an eyebrow, whispering back, “And how do you plan to fight them?”
I took a sip of my coffee. “With information. And a little faith.”
After everything that had happened recently, I’d become a believer in the Old Gods. The angels were powerful and terrifying—yes—but there were older beings, ones who’d been born native to the earth itself. And in the past couple of weeks, I’d started to believe they were providing us with everything we needed to combat the angels.
Hazel sneered. “Faith. Right.”
“Yasmin was right to believe in them.”
“Who?”
“My handler from the Order. I’ll arrange for us to meet soon. Anyway, she told me when we needed something, the Old Gods provided. And watch this.” I scanned the skies for sentinels, making sure none were in view. Then, I stood still, lifting my hand in front of my face. Since I’d jammed a knife into the silver tree branch yesterday—mainlining the power of the Old Gods—some of their magic continued to live inside me. I’d stayed up late last night, summoning a faint glow around my fingertips.
I concentrated, trying to bring up that beautiful light.
Hazel loosed a sigh. “Am I supposed to keep watching you stare at your fingers?”
“Hang on.” After a few moments, the tips of my fingers started to gleam with incandescent light.
“Hmmm…” said Hazel. “What does it do?”
“I’m not sure yet. This is just the beginning. But it’s something, right?” I let the glow die out on my fingertips.
Hazel looked unimpressed. “Or—instead of fighting the heavenly horde with your glowing hands—we could just stay in the luxurious castle. A servant brought me breakfast this morning, and then I had a hot bath. I have a brilliant idea. How about we don’t mess it up? Do you know that every time you try to change something, you have the distinct possibility of making it worse?”