City of Fae (4 page)

“How did he look?” It sounded like a simple question. All his questions did. But there were layers behind his words. Meanings I didn’t understand. So relaxed, so polite. Maybe I should trust him. Tell him everything. Clearly Reign was in serious trouble if the Met were searching for him too. And yet, if I told Andrews all the details and Reign discovered I’d talked, he’d never trust me enough to tell me why he’d been sprawled on the platform. My story would be dead in the water.

Miles tapped his pen on his notepad: Tap-tap
, Alina … We know you’re lying …
tap-tap
.

“He uh … He … looked like a fae?”

Andrews’s unimpressed frown said,
Try again
.

I licked my dry lips. “I don’t know, untidy, I guess.” The dark splatters on Reign’s clothes had probably been spilled wine.
Yes, wine, definitely wine, and not blood.

“He didn’t get off at your stop?”

“No. I left him on the train. Is he in trouble or something?”

“You could say that, yes. Whilst we can’t officially arrest a fae—they have their own method of operating—we do have permission to investigate his whereabouts. He is deemed a danger to the public; we’re trying to locate him sooner rather than later.”

“A danger to the public?” I snorted, and then remembered how Reign had held his own against the general. Had I not pulled the alarm, only one of them would have walked away from that fight, and I suspect it would have been Reign. “What did he do? Upset some love-struck fan? Trash a hotel room?” Stony faces peered back at me until my smile withered and died.

“We’re not at liberty to release the details.” Andrews dug into his pocket, withdrew a wallet, and plucked free a Metropolitan Police card. “I strongly advise you call us if you see him again.” I got a glimpse of a photo in his wallet, of him with a young girl, early teens, and an older guy with the same eyes as Andrews, his arm looped around the girl’s. Easy smiles all round. Older brother and younger sister perhaps?

He flipped his wallet closed and placed the card neatly on my coffee table. He stood, and Miles followed. They thanked me for the coffee and headed for the door.

That was it? Had I missed something? I followed after them, eager to shut them out and Andrews turned. “You don’t recall seeing a fight break out? The train didn’t stop suddenly? There was nothing remarkable about that journey home last night?”

My shallow smile wriggled as I fought to keep it hooked on my lips. “Nope. Like I said, I was pretty whacked-out after a long day.”
He knows.

“How did you get the bruise?” He gestured lightly at my forehead.

My hand reflexively shot to the bruise.
Don’t say you walked into a door, don’t say it …
“I … it’s stupid really, kitchen cupboard, door open … I’m a klutz.”

A smile cracked Andrews’s neutral face, softening the stalwart detective. It was a gentle smile, but honest. “Give me a call, Alina, if you think of anything, anything at all. Or if you see Sovereign again.”

“Sure thing, Detective.” I closed the door behind them and sighed. They knew I was lying. Probably saw the whole thing play out on CCTV, complete with Reign’s vanishing trick. So why didn’t they call me out on it? Whatever this had been about, it wasn’t over. The arrival of the Met confirmed what I already knew. I needed answers.

I gave the cops ten minutes to get clear, grabbed my coat and left my apartment. There was one place I’d get the lowdown on Reign. The
Metro
offices in Kensington. I needed to clear out my desk; while doing that, I could do a little investigating of my own. Whatever crime Reign may or may not have committed, the
Metro
’s database would have it. There was information in their network that would make politicians blush. I was about to discover everything Mister I Don’t Pay for Anything had to hide.

My ID didn’t work when I tried to swipe into the
Metro
offices at Northcliff House. I was forced to plead my way in by name-dropping colleagues. Not even a day off the job and they’d already forgotten me.

Barely 7:00 a.m., and the offices buzzed with early-morning enthusiasm. There was a story in the air, a buzz. I caught glimpses and heard snippets as I passed by. A high-profile party had turned sour. The day before, I’d have been all over it, but that morning, I kept my head down and quickened my pace.

Northcliff House is a vast art déco–style building. Cool-white columns frame huge and elaborate black windows that appear to drape from the top of the building to just above the canopy sheltering its entrance. The most influential and somewhat notorious members of the press corps call it home. I’d called it home too. I could lament the loss of my job later, and hopefully, if my instincts about Reign paid off, I wouldn’t have to lament anything. I’d be right back at my desk, where I belonged, soon enough.

The
Metro
’s central servers held files on every celebrity, should any of them suddenly find themselves worthy of front-page material. Reign had a file, a large one at that. Like every well-known figure, he had a love-hate relationship with the press. Or, in Reign’s case, the press loved him because his escapades helped increase sales, while he hated them, most likely because he couldn’t sneeze without someone spinning it into a story. Still, he didn’t exactly help himself. Some clichés never die. Sex, drugs, and rock ’n’ roll. Reign used the cliché as a guidebook, and being fae, he didn’t need to answer to anyone outside of his own kind. Gauging from the size of his file, either trouble liked to follow him or he created it.

Two nights ago he’d been snapped attending his own exclusive after-party, entourage in tow. The Fae Authority had clamped down on the revelers in the early hours, preventing the guests from entering or leaving until daybreak. The file hadn’t been updated since, but clearly something had happened. Was the party the reason Reign was on the run? I scanned the guest list. London’s elite liked to flaunt their association with the fae; as though they could compete with their exotic and deadly beauty.

***

I set all of Reign’s files to print and hurried to the print room before anyone noticed. Printers hummed in unison as I closed the door behind me. Thankfully alone, and grateful I didn’t have to explain my actions, I found my printer, brushed a cobweb off, and watched my files on Reign spew forth. I could absorb the information at home. What I was going to do with it was another thing altogether. This potential story was way above my pay grade, and now that Reign had made himself scarce, my connection to the facts had fled. But there was no letting this go, not now that I was on the scent. Especially after Reign’s cryptic parting words.
This isn’t my story, Alina …

The printer snarled and scrunched up a sheet. “Damn.” As I reached around the back a dash of movement to my right drew my attention toward the bank of printers along the far wall. A dozen or so machines blinked various colored lights, but otherwise all was in order. I’d finally jerked the guest list for the party free of the printer when a shiver rippled down the back of my neck, lifting the tiny hairs and scattering goose bumps across my skin. I wasn’t alone. Time to leave. I rammed the papers into my pocket. A chittering, like the sound of marbles tumbling to the floor, sounded from above. Fear dumped ice water in my veins. I jerked my head up and recoiled from the sight of a dozen inky rivulets pooling toward the center of the ceiling.
What the hell?
Shadows gathered in the corner of the room. They warped and rippled, spilling broods of
bugs
.

The reasonable part of my mind told me this wasn’t possible. Bugs didn’t behave this way. My skin crawled, and instinct urged me to bolt for the door, but the bugs got there first. A waterfall of tiny glistening bodies tumbled from the lintel. Was that deliberate?
No. Not possible
. It had to be a bizarre freak of nature, like a plague of locusts.

I backed up, breath racing and heart jumping in my chest. Something gristly crunched underfoot. Stumbling, I reeled from the river of …
spiders
? Their numbers bloomed above, sagging under their own weight, until they tumbled to the floor. The twitching pool at my feet grew, and then rose up; spiders clambering, climbing over their own in their haste to reach me.

I bumped back against the window. Tiny curls of green vapor writhed among their countless bodies, as though weaving a thread of light through them.
Illegal fae magic
. The column of spiders rippled and swayed, and I watched, transfixed in horror.

“You will come with us …” The words hissed from the rustling of their bodies; they didn’t speak so much as create sounds from their numbers churning as one. My stomach heaved. I pressed myself into the glass. The door was entirely too far away, the street outside too far down to jump.

“Aliiinnnaaa …” they churned.

I worked my fingers at the edges of the Northcliff House windows while holding my body perfectly still. The column of spiders undulated and swelled forward. I couldn’t run without crossing the tributaries of spiders. The windows behind me weren’t going to be much help. Even if I could get them open, I was four floors up. The back street behind Northcliff House had never looked so damn far away.

“We are of the queen … Sssent for you … You must return.”

“The queen?” The fae had a queen? Since when?

The door was my only chance, but to get to it, I had to pass within grabbing distance of that … twitching column of spiders.
Okay, after three, I bolt for the door. One, two …
I made it two steps when the spiders rippled forward, sloshing across the floor and spilling over my shoes. With a shriek, I staggered back, but it was too late. Five, no six, scuttled up my shin, around my knee. I swept them off, but more came, flooding across the floor, rushing as one, surging over my shoes, around my ankles and dashing up my legs. There were dozens. I knocked them off as quickly as they scurried over my clothes.
No, God, no! Get them off, get them off!
The cool press of the windows behind, only reminded me I had nowhere to go.

Glass exploded from behind. I ducked and moved away from the window, but a grip as hard as steel hooked around my waist and tugged me backward, hauling me out of the building. For a few brittle moments, my feet dangled uselessly in the air. Spiders tumbled from my shoes to the street several stories below. Any second now I’d follow them, and I would die, never having gotten my answers. Then the arms of steel pulled me around into a bone-jarring embrace so damn tight I couldn’t lift my head to see what or who had me.

“Afraid of spiders, Alina?” Reign purred.

I clung to him, sinking my nails in and hooking my legs around his waist. “Holy shit—Reign—what are you doing?—did you see?—there’s spiders … Don’t let me go.” I made the mistake of looking down. “Oh God.” I squeezed my eyes closed. “This is insane. We’re gonna die!”

He grunted, “If you squeeze any tighter, I might.”

With a monumental effort I lifted my head. One of those know-it-all smiles adorned his lips while he clung to a huge architectural column by a single hand, hugging me against him with the other. His fae eyes blazed bright with the burn of draíocht. “Don’t like heights either?”

Spiders spilled over the sill behind me and rained down onto the street. Fear seized my muscles tight, prompting Reign to suck in a sharp breath. “Only one way down.” He let go of the building. My stomach tried to jump into my throat and we fell. I definitely screamed. I might still have been screaming when I opened my eyes to find us standing on top of the trailer of a parked truck. “I feel sick.” I groaned, and then we were moving again. He leaped. Eyes squeezed closed, I held my breath, and prayed that any second we’d be back on terra firma.

Reign landed with a grunt, bearing my slight load with ease. His grip loosened, allowing me the space to shove out of his embrace. I staggered back, shaking my head. There’s only so much crazy a person can take at one time. This was too much. Organized spiders, scaling buildings … I stumbled away, voice lost.

“Hey …” Reign called.

I waved a hand, gesturing for him to stay back.
Nope. Not yet
.
I can’t deal with this yet.
My heart hammered so fast I thought it might punch through my chest. With each step my legs threatened to give up. Springing from the fourth floor of Northcliff House in the arms of a celebrity fae to escape a flood of talking spiders was most definitely not normal.

“Alina …”

He was following. Sure enough, a glance behind me confirmed it. Coat flaring, strides long and powerful, he’d be caught up to me in seconds and he wasn’t even out of breath.

“Just … just give me a minute.” I was probably going to throw up. I sped up my retreat, turning my stagger into a jog. He wasn’t the cause of my nausea. It wasn’t even the spiders. Blood raced in my veins. My hand itched, as though something inside was trying to crawl from my skin. Dizzy, disorientated, I just needed space to breathe, to think, to steady my feet on solid earth. The last twenty-four hours had finally caught up with me.

I stepped off the sidewalk, my thoughts a whirl and my vision blurred, when the sudden blast of a horn and too-close dash of a car brought me to a jarring halt. Reign’s hand landed on my shoulder and spun me around. For a second, his eyes slitted and his skin seemed to stretch tighter over cheekbones, drawing his face back, lending it a sharp, hardened edge. My breath hitched and my body tried to reel back, but he clutched at my top and yanked me toward him as a taxi passed close behind me.

I shoved against him, landing the balls of my palms against his chest, but he no more moved than stone would. “Back off, fae,” I growled.

He plucked me off my feet, turned me around, and gave me a shove, just enough to gain some distance between us. “What did the spiders want with you?”

I scowled back. Who did he think he was shoving around? “This is your doing. You owe me answers.”

“I don’t owe you anything, American Girl. You should thank me. I just saved your ass back there and stopped you walking out in front of traffic.”