They came out in the middle of the bayou and the first thing Sasha did was begin yelling Sir Rodney’s name. Within seconds, Fae archers appeared in the trees calling out their customary greeting.
“Friend or foe?”
“Very pissed-off friend at the moment,” Sasha said. “But harmless to your king.”
“And you?” another archer shouted down at Hunter.
“I’m unarmed and just along for the ride.”
The archers looked at one another, and then their captain called down again. “We’ll have to get you clearance, wolves.”
“You do that,” Sasha said. “Tell Sir Rodney I bring him some news that just can’t wait.”
It didn’t take long for the relay to occur, and soon they were marching toward the hidden castle with a retinue of palace guards. Annoyed didn’t begin to describe how she felt. Sasha bit her lip to keep from shouting obscenities as they trudged forward. Her team and Doc were due in this afternoon, all hell was breaking loose-hell that had nothing to do with them-and her nerves were shot.
The moment the gates appeared from behind the Fae glamour, it was all she could do to go through the pomp and circumstance of gaining proper palace entry. Hunter looked like he was ready to spit nails. She could definitely understand it. How were they supposed to investigate and help if they didn’t have all the facts?
Sir Rodney’s personal valet greeted them at the drawbridge. “I’ll take it from here,” he said in a calm tone. “Milady, milord,” he added, ushering them forward with a genteel sweep of his hand.
Neither Sasha nor Hunter responded verbally. Instead, they just kept walking in the direction they were being led, through the unusually quiet streets of the small town beyond the gates, and through the main square to the palace.
Stoic palace guards never blinked as they passed, climbed the immense stone steps, and went through the huge barricade of doors. But the longer she walked, the longer she followed the security escort, the angrier she became. This was all such bullshit.
At a large double door, the valet stopped and gave a nod to Sir Rodney’s personal bodyguard, who then ushered them in to see the king.
“Your guests, milord,” the bodyguard said as he opened the door to what looked like a war room. He shut it gently and stood just inside the room, armed, with his back against the door.
“Yes, do come in,” Sir Rodney said, seeming distracted and agitated.
Sasha’s gaze quickly assessed her surroundings within the large stone room capped by a high, vaulted ceiling. Sir Rodney paced before a massive, round table that had high-back, hand-carved chairs. He kept his palms clasped behind him, occasionally raking his disheveled hair. It looked like he also hadn’t slept last night, which was the only small consolation that Sasha would secretly allow herself at the moment.
Five dour-looking Gnomes in monk’s habits, their age evident in their deeply lined faces and the frail wisps of white hair that pocked their bald scalps, looked on, seeming dispassionate. But their eyes held smoldering rage, just like their ancient hands and wands could conjure extreme magick when called upon.
“You didn’t tell us the whole story!” Sasha blurted out, unable to deal with the tension of protocol.
“It was complicated,” Sir Rodney said, his gaze now locked with hers and Hunter’s.
“It always is, but we’re either in it with you as full partners that you trust, or not,” Sasha said, so angry that she was now talking with her hands.
“Trust,” Hunter said evenly, “is the way of the wolf when we bond… Without it, friendship is in jeopardy.”
“If we tripped over a critical fact, unwittingly, we could have gotten killed.” Sasha got up in Sir Rodney’s face. “From now on, either you tell us what’s happening or we’re out. If you need us, we’re with you, but only as though we’re pack. Real family, all right?”
Sir Rodney watched his lead advisor slowly reach inside his robe sleeve to begin fingering his wand. But the monarch held up his hand as his personal guard tensed, ready to draw arms in case one of the wolves decided to lunge.
“You’re right,” Sir Rodney finally said, releasing a hard exhalation. “But it is not the way of the Fae to disclose sensitive information outside of our community.”
“When did you realize your magick was fading?” Sasha asked more calmly. “Or better yet, why did I have to finally go to starving Pixies to find out just how bad it had gotten?”
“That is a security breach, if it were to be common knowledge.” Sir Rodney said, lifting his chin.
Sasha looked at the five o’clock shadow that covered the Fae monarch’s normally clean-shaven jaw. “Although you were calm enough when I showed it to you, that sigil we found truly freaked out Ethan and nearly sent a Pixie into apoplexy,” she said carefully. “So you want to start at the beginning so we can investigate this thoroughly on your behalf?”
Sir Rodney let out a long, weary sigh. “A few months ago, the Will-o’-Wisps and the Pixies of the Small Court began to see their magick wane. Their glamour was sporadic, causing them to have to take extra measures to hide themselves from humankind, lest they be discovered. The Faeries in the teahouse gardens were also affected. Now a small section of the outer garrison wall can be seen by the naked human eye, if we don’t redouble our efforts daily to cover it-which is no trivial feat. It has been like a creeping death.”
“Sorcery, Vampires, the sigil is black magick, right?” Sasha looked around the room. “There’s an iron fence around the teahouse, so someone sending in bad vibes should have literally been stopped at the gate, right?”
No one answered and quiet strangled the room.
“Ethan’s wife Margaret didn’t come with him to check on a possible plague; she came as a medical and spell professional… to examine Penelope’s body for the same sigil that had been on Desidera’s-tell me I am wrong,” Hunter said, folding his arms over his chest.
“Yes. And I want to know who is responsible for this dark malfeasance!” Sir Rodney spun on his advisors, his gaze hot with unspent fury as he waited for answers. “The mark was on both girls, and still we have no answers? Desidera tells me that she is hiding something in the cellar, and then that is where we find her dead?”
“That information would have been helpful to know while we were down there,” Sasha said as calmly as possible.
“It might have saved us twenty-four hours of blind searching,” Hunter said through his teeth.
Sir Rodney looked away. “It was a Fae matter.”
“And now it’s not?” Sasha said, challenging him.
“Have you any idea what would happen to the Sidhe if rumors of a loss of power were to get out?” Sir Rodney paced away from Sasha and spoke with his hands behind his back as he walked the perimeter of the room. “You have no insight into Fae culture or you would be aware of just how dangerous any perception of a loss of power could be.” He stopped walking and stared at both Sasha and Hunter. “A weak monarch is a failed monarch. If he or she cannot keep the magick strong in the community, then he or she is destined to be overthrown-that’s why it was a matter of Fae national security.”
Sasha relaxed slightly and turned to Hunter. “No less than a weak alpha at the helm of the Wolf Federations… Someone would be bound to call a challenge match.”
Hunter nodded and relaxed. “We gave you our word, and our word is our bond-to help you. That pledge will not change.”
“Thank you,” Sir Rodney said.
“But you need to tell us about the blood scent as well as the sigil,” Sasha amended.
Sir Rodney dragged his fingers through his hair. “That is complicated.”
The eldest advisor stepped forward, speaking slowly as dictated by his advanced years, but that in no way was an indicator of his keen mind. “Milord, as you know, Thompson Loughlin… one of our shrewdest Fae investigators, has a lead.”
“Good man, Loughlin,” Sir Rodney said, nodding, and ignoring the advisor’s overt hint that they had their own man working on the case-therefore there was no reason to involve Sasha and Hunter. “Finest nose for discreet investigations… I believe his mother served in a high post in my mother’s court years ago. His father was a digger Gnome in the Netherlands-a unique blend that makes him the best at unearthing hidden treasures and hidden truths. Yes, I am pleased that he is involved… Go on.”
Okay, now she knew something was being held back. Sir Rodney had just gone into a politician’s stiff spiel in front of his advisors, and he’d completely evaded her question about the blood. She’d wait for them to go through the motions, but not for long.
Glancing around the room when only silence greeted him, Sir Rodney reassured his skeptical staff. “These are unusual circumstances where we would break from tradition to speak freely before outsiders. But I trust the Shadow Wolves with my very life.” He looked at Sasha and then Hunter. “We may speak freely before trusted friends.”
Both Sasha and Hunter gave Sir Rodney a nod that contained unspoken thanks as their bodies visibly relaxed.
The elderly advisor drew a weary breath and extracted a wand from his billowing robe sleeve. Tapping on the round war table, he waited as a small, spherical miasma formed, creating a ball of mist that soon cleared as though a snow globe had settled. All eyes stared at the grisly scene of a scorched bird carcass still smoldering.
“We have seen the sigil… but it is not one we are familiar with. It will take some time to decode it, even though we know it is a brand of chaos magick. Some of the markings are taking us an inordinate amount of time to decode. But the basic feel to it is darkness.” The ancient advisor calmly returned his wand to his sleeve, causing the miasma to dissipate.
“This is an outrage; we will call for a Vampire inquisition. She could have been assaulted by a Vampire’s Black Death charge or their sorcery, if the markings of the sigil are impossible to read! It must be in their guttural language. How do we know for sure that’s not what it is?” Sir Rodney slammed his fist against the table and then walked away. “This is war.”
“Inadvisable, milord,” his second advisor warned, stepping forward with the others in a subtle display of solidarity.
“If you bring an inquisition on such speculative evidence as a Blood Oasis membership card and a few calendar markings, with only partial hearsay testimony that something was wrong from a dead Phoenix girl and your own special investigator, and we later learn it is not the bloodsuckers who are at fault… then we have not only presented a weak case that will come to nothing at the United Council of Entities, but we will have also alerted our archenemy that our defenses are weak, that our magick is fading…”
“Penelope gave us nothing through the Pixie,” Sasha added, siding with Sir Rodney’s advisors. “Gretchen was waiting for her and she never showed-they never talked. That’s a dead end.”
“I have been king of the Seelie Court for more than three hundred years. Never,” Sir Rodney said through his teeth, “has my court ever experienced such an insidious attack. Who else but Vampires would do this?” He spun on his advisors. “No… the better question is, who beside the Vampires would be strong enough or brazen enough that they could do this?”
“Need I remind you of your ex-wife, sir?” The eldest advisor just stared at him.
Sir Rodney waved him off and walked away. “After all these years, with her territories solvent, there is no reason to provoke war between us. We’ve already been down that path-she took her lot and I have taken mine here in New Orleans. There’s no motive.”
“Unless your powers were waning and your borders were weak. She is an excellent strategist and a very patient sort.”
For a moment, no one in the room spoke as Sir Rodney stared at his top advisor. Sasha and Hunter shared a discreet look.
“This is why I caution you to employ temperance until we learn more, milord,” his eldest advisor pressed on, his monotone voice slowly stating the facts. “There are those who would dare not challenge you while strong, but if there is any indication that there was an erosion of your power, you would have to fight off enemies as though a swarm of locusts.”
The other advisors nodded.
Now Sasha really understood the dilemma marrow-deep. Both wolves caught each other’s meaningful glances within their peripheral vision, both fully cognizant of what was at stake for Sir Rodney. The tension in the room was palpable as Sasha’s previous rage dissipated.
Sir Rodney slowly returned to the table to lean against it with both hands. He closed his eyes and allowed his head to drop forward in frustration.
“Milord,” a third and very shy advisor murmured, speaking so softly that Sir Rodney lifted his head just to hear him. “The situation, as you have guessed, is worsening.”
Sir Rodney didn’t respond to his advisor, but stared at Sasha and Hunter. “Now do you understand why we could not send Thompson on an errand to directly investigate this Phoenix death? It wasn’t a matter of trust, but that of national security. Had we done so, it would have appeared odd… that the Fae would be delving into Mythic Parliament affairs. Once that became gossip… word of our involvement would surely travel. That could tip off our unknown enemies that something is amiss in our own yard. We must preserve the appearance of strength at all costs.”
“Aye,” a fourth advisor confirmed and then looked at the fifth advisor to his left.
Clearing his throat, the fifth advisor glanced at the others before he addressed the king, and then looked at Sasha and Hunter. “That is why we needed a friend outside of the Fae to repay a favor once given with a favor now needed and duly earned.”
“Those who do not lie, whose silver auras speak of their sterling reputation for loyalty and honor… as is the way of the wolf,” the fifth advisor said quietly. “We must have your word as your bond that you never speak of our waning powers beyond yourselves.”
“My word given,” Hunter said, lifting his chin.
“And mine,” Sasha said.
The fifth advisor looked around at the group and the other advisors nodded, clearly having discussed this amongst themselves already.
“We should be sure that all our allies are at the Midsummer Night’s Ball three nights hence… They must be in New Orleans during this time when the moon is full,” his eldest advisor said, beginning to slowly stroll past each of the younger Gnomes as he spoke. “If there is foul play, our effectiveness could be strained. It would be prudent to have strong battalions of our friends at the ready… those who owe us, and who also know that once you owe the Fae, to renege is tantamount to treason.”
Sir Rodney straightened, but his gaze was open as it went toward Sasha and Hunter. “I would never want to put any of the wolf packs at risk…”
“Indeed… but they are also excellent warriors unknown to your ex-wife and no stranger to battles with the undead. Vampires walk a wary path around them, sire, and it would not seem odd that they would be looking into matters that could potentially effect their packs or humans,” his eldest advisor said calmly, going to the king to stand before him. His ancient gaze held the king’s. “This happened in a Fae bar that humans frequent. That would give them both cover and cause.”
“They cannot be harmed or placed in harm’s way,” Sir Rodney said in a rush, dragging his fingers through his hair as he now specifically stared at Sasha.
Hunter nodded with appreciation. “You had our backs, now we have yours. I am sure my brother Shogun will feel the same way.”
“We stand with you at the ready, Sir Rodney,” Sasha said. “Count on that.” But as she held Sir Rodney’s gaze, wolf instinct kicked in. “You never answered my question. What was the blood?”
“You also never fully disclosed your investigator’s lead,” Hunter said in a casual tone, but his expression was anything but that.
“Follow me,” Sir Rodney said, ignoring his advisors’ startled eyes.
“Milord,” his eldest advisor said after a moment, stepping before Sir Rodney and withdrawing his wand. “I beg you to caution. Just as your comment to go to war with Vampires came out of passion… might this also be-”
“Do not forget your place, Bardis. We are old friends yet there are still parameters.”
“And there is dark magick afoot… so serious that at times it has held His Majesty’s judgment in question,” Bardis said in a tight murmur meant only for Sir Rodney’s ears.
“Not this time. If we are to ask for our allies’ assistance, then we must trust them. That is common sense, old friend.”
Although the senior advisor clearly didn’t like it, he put his wand away and stood aside. Sasha and Hunter waited until Sir Rodney motioned for them to follow him, and he led the way through a door on the far side of the room that gave way to spiral stone stairs so narrow that one had to touch the wall to keep from feeling vertigo.
The moment they were at the bottom, Hunter glanced at Sasha and nodded. “It is the scent.”
“Quite so,” Sir Rodney said, still walking. He stopped at a huge wooden locked door.
To Sasha’s surprise, the advisor named Bardis and the others who’d been in the war room opened the door for their king. Again, all she could do was glance at Hunter; Fae magick was deep.
But the body draped with a sheet on the granite slab before them nearly made her gasp out loud. The scent was cloying. And it was definitely the same blood trace they’d picked up in Ethan’s wine cellar.
“Who is it?” Sasha asked as they neared the table and Sir Rodney flung off the sheet.
“Ethan’s bartender, Mike,” Sir Rodney said.
“The one who supposedly went home early?” Hunter said with sarcasm lacing his tone.
“Well, scratch his name off the whodunnit list,” Sasha said with a scowl.
“This was the lead,” Bardis said, ignoring the tension, and pointed at the lacerations on the nude man’s chest. “His heart is gone, torn from the anchors so quickly it must have still been beating in the murderer’s hand. There is only one entity we know of that can move that swiftly in a surgical strike.”
Sasha and Hunter stepped closer. She gazed down into the stunned expression. The poor man’s mouth was open in a frozen scream, his eyes wide and glassy. Too bad the dead couldn’t talk. She traced the gashes left just outside the gaping hole in his chest and then looked at Hunter.
“Could have been a Vamp heart snatch. Usually a wolf attack isn’t quite so clean-isn’t directed at one organ.”
“Wolves generally go for the throat or the gut, leaving viscera everywhere.” Hunter leaned into the body and sniffed. “But there is most assuredly a trace of Were here as well.” Hunter stood and stared at Sir Rodney. “And you didn’t think this might have been useful information?”
Sasha folded her arms over her chest. “So, you guys found him and Desidera, removed his body and glamoured the cellar so we wouldn’t see any trace of this body hitting the dirt, and then cleaned up the blood? Why?”
“We had to know beyond a shadow of a doubt,” Sir Rodney said, lifting his chin, “that if it was a wolf, you would still stand with us.”
“Now I really am offended, even if I understand your twisted logic,” Sasha said and then walked away.