Grave War Page 14

  I frowned as I walked across the room toward it. I’d made it halfway across the living room, no farther than the couch, when a door opened in the far hallway that led to the bedrooms. I froze, my hand clenching around my dagger, but other than the completely missing wards, there was nothing to suggest anything was wrong.

  “Caleb? Holly?” I called out softly enough that I wouldn’t wake anyone.

  “Al?” Caleb’s voice was rough, as if he was out of breath, and he kept a hand on the wall as he shuffled into the room.

  I’d stepped wide, dropping my weight into something that at least felt like a defensive stance—Falin would be proud—my dagger clenched in my raised hand. Caleb’s gaze took me in and a frown claimed his face as his eyes lingered on my weapon. Apparently he did not have any issues seeing in the early morning gloom. In my less-than-normal vision, he glowed a brilliant silver under his green skin. Among other things, my peering through the planes also let me see through glamour, so to me, he had the slightly wider features, green skin, and extra finger digits that he usually kept hidden. I wasn’t sure if dawn had shattered his personal glamour and he hadn’t reinstated it yet or if it was there but I couldn’t see it. He looked tired, though, his shoulders slumped and his feet dragging.

  “You okay?” I asked, dropping the hand holding my dagger.

  “Dawn hit hard,” he said, his frown lingering. I’d felt it too, but it seemed to still be draining Caleb. He seemed to realize that and made an effort to stand up straighter; it looked like it cost him, though. “Did you take the wards down?” he asked.

  “No. I felt them fall and came down here thinking something may be wrong.” I gave a half shrug. “How did dawn nuke the wards? Weren’t they crafted with Aetheric spells?”

  Caleb didn’t answer, but shuffled over to the statue that should have held the wards. He placed his hand on the carved stone, closing his eyes and dipping his head as he concentrated on wards that were not there. I didn’t tend to sit around watching magic while my shields were down; it made things a little too chaotic seeing emotional imprints, shimmering souls, twisting raw magic, and layers of decay as my mind tried to take in all the different planes on top of each other. Not to mention the fact that it allowed the chill of the grave to reach for me. I’d only had my psyche open a few minutes, but I was already shivering despite the heat being on in the house. But, with my shields cracked, I could see exactly how Caleb’s magic reached out, poking at where the spells should have been inside the wards. It dissipated as soon as it hit the emptiness inside the statue and Caleb made a frustrated sound in his throat.

  “What’s happening?” Holly asked around a yawn as she shuffled into the room. “Oh, hey, Alex.” Her hand dropped to the edge of the shirt she was wearing. It was Caleb’s shirt, and though it was the only thing she wore, on her petite form it was long enough that it was more modest than some dresses I saw on the street. “I didn’t know you were down here. Are you okay? I heard about the explosion yesterday. Caleb said the door to Faerie is gone? What is going to happen now?”

  “Everything in Nekros is going to get FUBARed, apparently,” Caleb said, dropping his hand. “It’s like the wards are gone.”

  “They are.” Everyone turned to look at me at that. “There isn’t a trace of magic left in the statue.”

  “That’s . . .” Caleb stopped and then shook his head. He might have been about to say “impossible,” but he was too fae to say that when the fact that it had happened was before his eyes.

  “Great, so we have no wards. And probably every ward I’ve created under commission just failed too.”

  Holly walked over and slid her arms around his waist, hugging him from behind. He ran his hand over the empty statue one more time, and then turned so he could wrap his arms around her as well. He leaned forward, resting his green lips against the top of her flame-red hair. It was a casually intimate gesture, one of familiarity, and it made me shuffle my feet and glance back at the door to my loft. It was still weird that my roommates were dating—oh, they were perfect for each other, even I could admit that. But that didn’t make it less weird.

  “So why did the door getting destroyed cause your wards to fail?” Holly asked without stepping out of Caleb’s arms. “They were witch magic, weren’t they?”

  A good question. I’d been about to retreat back to my loft, and my bed—I’d stayed up way too late and didn’t need to be at the FIB office for at least two more hours—but that question stopped me short because it was a good one. Would witch magic start failing in Nekros? But that didn’t make sense. Faerie and fae as a whole weren’t typically compatible with Aetheric energy, with notable exceptions, like Caleb.

  I turned back in time to see him grimace, his lips stretching down further than a human would have been able to manage. “I manipulate Aetheric energy, but that doesn’t make me a witch. I’m still fae, and use fae magic to shape the Aetheric energy.”

  Now that made a lot more sense.

  “So do you guys have a plan to fix this?” Holly asked, this time aiming the question at me.

  I winced. I guessed by “you guys” she meant the FIB. And from what I could tell, no. The FIB had no idea how to even begin to address the issue.

  At my silence, Holly frowned, her face turning from friendly-girl-next-door to a sterner expression, one I recognized from when I’d seen her in her element in the courtroom as an assistant DA. “That’s not a sufficient response, Al. Surely you are working on something.”

  “I have some ideas,” I said, because I had to say something. And I did have some ideas. I’d track down that sapling and get the door functioning again. Of course, the whole how that would work, or hell, how I would find the sapling was still a big question mark, but at least it was a possible direction. Yeah, okay, I was floundering.

  “I should go back upstairs. I just came down because I felt the wards fall,” I said, starting to step backward.

  Caleb nodded, giving me the smallest of smiles. Then he turned back toward Holly. “We’re going to have to leave the city,” he said to her, his voice low.

  “What? No. I can’t leave.” Holly stepped out of his arms. “I’m working two huge cases right now and I have court dates set for most of this week.”

  “How can we stay? You can’t eat.” Caleb’s tone was gentle, reasonable, but I could all but feel Holly’s rising temper from across the room.

  “No. No way. I can’t take a vacation right now.”

  I’d reached the door to the inner stairs, but I glanced back. Part of me wanted to stay, to hear what decision they reached, maybe even to encourage them to stick it out a little longer. But my gaze moved from two of my best friends to the statue that had held some of the best ward magic in the city—until dawn. I couldn’t encourage them to stay. Holly needed to find a source for Faerie food, and Caleb was fae. He needed an active tie to Faerie to avoid fading. No, I couldn’t in good conscience ask them to trust that the FIB would fix this.

  And I knew if they left, it wouldn’t be a vacation.

  They’d be leaving Nekros for good. Or at least until the door was reopened. They wouldn’t be just leaving Nekros either, but the entire North American continent. This wasn’t only an issue for two of my best friends either, but for all the fae. We all would have to leave.

  I had to find a way to fix the door.

  Chapter 14

  I woke with a jolt for the second time that morning. This time it was due to PC’s furious barking. The six-pound dog might not be big, but he could make a lot of noise—most of it high-pitched and headache inducing. I hadn’t exactly gone back to bed after dawn, but I’d drifted off while searching the Internet, my laptop still in my lap. Sunlight now filtered through the blinds, but according to the time stamp on my laptop screen, I couldn’t have been asleep more than half an hour. It was one of those naps that was just long enough to leave you bleary but still exhausted.


  PC bounced around at the foot of the bed, yipping as fiercely as a little dog could, and I squinted, looking around for the source of his agitation. With my bad eyes, shadows still claimed most of the room, despite the early morning light.

  Then one of those shadows moved, and I jolted, fully alert now. I’d shoved my dagger back under my pillow, and I grabbed it, flicking off the small clip that kept it tucked safely in its hilt.

  The shadow moved again, proving to be a small shape perched on the top of my television. It was oddly substantial for a shadow, thicker and darker than a shadow should have been in the morning sunlight. As it arched its back in a deep stretch that went all the way to its lifted tail, I realized it was the shadow of a cat.

  I’d seen a displaced cat shadow before.

  “Are you Dugan’s cat?” I asked the shadow. Had he gotten my message last night after all?

  The shadow cat cocked her head to the side, as if studying me. She had no visible eyes, but I was sure she took my measure. Then she jumped from the television and darted across the room. PC started to follow, his back legs bending in preparation of springing from the bed. I grabbed him.

  “No,” I said sternly, placing him back on the pillows at the head of the bed.

  He gave a small whine, but I wasn’t going to let him chase the shadow. Either she was Dugan’s cat, and he’d sent her to contact me, or she was something else, and potentially a danger. Faerie shadows could be deadly.

  “Do you have a message for me?” I asked the shadow, who had stopped by the edge of the counter separating my small kitchenette from the rest of the apartment.

  The cat sat on her haunches. With no features on her face, I couldn’t be sure where she looked, but I could swear I felt her unseen eyes on me, her gaze piercing and, in typical cat fashion, unimpressed. She licked a dark, insubstantial paw and ran it over her head.

  What the hell does that mean? Was the cat a messenger? A spy? Just a random displaced shadow creature? With no wards, anything could get in the house, a thought that chilled me and made me grip my dagger tighter.

  I slid off the bed, keeping the dagger in hand as I approached the small shadow. Before I got close enough to touch her—not that I planned to—the cat turned, darting farther into my apartment. This time she sat down directly in front of the bathroom doorway and stared at me.

  Okay, I was pretty sure I was supposed to follow her.

  As I stepped past the counter, a cabinet door opened and Ms. B stepped out, carrying the comforter she’d nested in during the night already neatly folded. Her gaze landed on the shadow cat, and she dropped her load of linens as her quill-like hair bristled, rustling. A miniature broom appeared in her hands, and she dashed forward.

  “Out,” she yelled, stopping a good two yards from the cat and waving her small broom in front of her.

  “Ms. B!” I didn’t dare chase after her in case the cat thought both of us were after her. “Leave the cat alone.”

  “It’s a shadow spy!” Ms. B took another step forward, holding her broom like a jousting lance. “Never trust a shadow without a source.”

  “I think it’s a messenger for Dugan,” I said, stepping between the brownie and the cat.

  “The Shadow Prince?” Ms. B sounded genuinely befuddled. “But he’s shadow court.”

  Yeah, and I was winter. I was getting rather tired of all the hard lines fae seemed to draw between the different courts.

  “He owes me a favor and I’m hoping he can help me access Faerie.”

  Her broom drooped and she stared at the cat for a moment. The cat hadn’t moved this entire time, but her ears were no longer visible, so I guessed she had pressed them back against her head.

  “Do you have a message for me?” I asked her once again.

  Behind me, Ms. B gave a snort, which was quite a feat, as she didn’t have a nose. “It’s a shadow. It can’t talk.”

  She had a point there. Though some shadows could, or at least they could scream—I’d witnessed that firsthand. But if this was Dugan’s cat, he’d confirmed she couldn’t speak. So why was the shadow here?

  I took another step forward. The cat stood, circled for a moment, and then trotted into my bathroom. There was nothing else to do but follow.

  “I don’t like this,” Ms. B muttered as I trailed after the cat, but she stuck by my heels, her broom held aloft.

  The cat shadow jumped from the floor to the bathroom counter. She paced along the edge, and then she turned, seemed to coil back, and sprang straight at the mirror behind the sink. I gasped at the sudden movement, sure she was about to bounce off the hard surface in pain, but the cat seemed to merge with her image in the mirror, leaving only a dark blotch behind. Then the blotch began expanding, the shadows spreading across the surface like spilled ink.

  Ms. B made a sharp sound and scooted farther behind my legs as the darkness spread over the mirror. When the darkness covered the entire mirror, it seemed to thicken, growing even darker. Then a man appeared in the center of the darkness.

  His dark hair and armor almost blended into the shadows around him, making his slightly glowing skin and light blue eyes stand out in stark contrast. He looked so solid and clear, it seemed I could have reached out and touched him. I expected him to step through the shadows consuming my mirror, but instead he gave a small bow, inclining his head toward me.

  “My lady,” he said as he straightened, and I found myself floundering for the proper etiquette in this situation.

  Fae were big on showy etiquette. I’d seen Dugan show less deference to Faerie queens, and I wasn’t royal. He, on the other hand, was a prince. Not a prince of the court I belonged to, but still a prince. Still half-hidden behind me, Ms. B dropped into an awkward but deep curtsy. That was probably expected of me as well.

  My hesitating indecision was clearly noted, because a small smile touched Dugan’s lips. Not a friendly smile, per se, but one that bespoke amusement.

  “You look lovely this morning,” he said, with that same silently laughing smile.

  Now I stopped worrying about etiquette and rolled my eyes at the prince. “Oh, yes, bedhead and yesterday’s sleep-rumpled outfit are simply the height of fashion in this new, Faerie-less Nekros. Drop the ‘my lady’ and compliments. You agreed to call off our betrothal, remember? No need to play false friendly.”

  He blinked at me, the amusement dropping from his face, replaced with a frown. “I was being genuine. I am perhaps rather out of practice at establishing friendships.”

  Now it was my turn to frown, because maybe it was me who was being an ass. I wasn’t going to apologize and indebt myself, but I shook my head and said, “It’s been a rough twenty-four hours. I might be ornery.”

  He stared at me a moment, assessing, and then he nodded, accepting my unspoken apology. Shadows moved around him, though with the darkness of the mirror, I’m not sure how I could even tell, but I saw the small shape as it darted for him, flinging itself in the air. I started to call out a warning, my hand lifting involuntarily as my mouth opened. Then the shadow of a cat landed on Dugan’s shoulders. The cat traipsed across his shoulders before collapsing dramatically, draping herself around the back of Dugan’s neck like a living scarf.

  The prince barely reacted to the cat’s sudden entrance. He simply lifted a hand and rubbed behind her ears. Large green eyes peered out at me from the black mass of shadow now draped across his shoulders, so apparently this was the more substantial shadow cat, not the shadow’s shadow that had been in my bedroom.

  “I heard whispers that you were looking to cash in some favors,” Dugan said, still nonchalantly petting the cat. “I owe you an answer and a boon. Need I advise you not to waste either on foolish questions?”

  Hopefully I didn’t need that advice. I’d pondered what I’d ask if he actually did respond. When I’d called him, I’d intended to ask after Falin. It wa
s what I wanted to know most. But nothing about the current crisis changed regardless of the answer. Whether Faerie had locked the doors to winter because he had fallen or because of the attack on the tree, the issue still remained that Nekros was going to suffer if I didn’t figure out how to reroot Faerie to the land. And for that, I needed an amaranthine tree.

  “Several months ago I found an amaranthine sapling in the floodplains. We dug it up and took it to the winter court, but it vanished. Ryese was left alone with it, and I’m sure he secreted it away. I’d like shadow to locate and, if possible, secure it. Surely the tree’s location must fall into the purview of secrets.”

  Dugan blinked at me, the surprise evident on his features. “I truly expected you to inquire after your . . . king.” His hesitation before the last word made me suspect he’d been going to say something else.

  He lifted a hand and ran his thumb along his jaw, his eyes going distant in thought. Then his gaze sharpened, landing on me once more. “I do not know the location of the sapling, but I will make some inquiries and try to find it.”

  I nodded, not thanking him, as you don’t thank a fae for repaying a boon.

  “Is that all?” he asked, studying me again.

  No. Not hardly. But I only had so many favors I could trade in. I could ask if he knew who was behind the explosions, but if he didn’t, that would be his answer and the favor would be wasted. I’d look into it myself first.

  At my silence, the prince nodded. “Well then, I will look for the sapling as your boon, but in the name of friendship, I will gift you this.” He seemed to take a step closer, filling the mirror surface. “The Winter King lives. He is injured, but should heal. Light’s most fearsome warrior cannot say the same.”