City of Shadows (9 page)

“She's breaking the law.” Nyx slid one of her daggers free but she paused, her sharp gaze snagging on me. “You're not ready.”

I'd seen that look. In the mirror. “Nyx, wait. You don't need to—”

“By the order of the Fae Authority—”

The fae predictably bolted, but she didn't get far. Nyx's dagger somehow found a straight line through the crowd and punched the fae high up in the back. She let out a yelp and groped behind her, but she didn't stop. Nyx burst forward. The crowd recoiled. A few screams peppered the music. And the chase was on. I followed as best as I could, but Nyx and the fae soon became a blur in the crowd, and once outside, I quickly lost them on the busy sidewalk.

I sighed through my nose, ignoring the few who glanced my way—probably wondering why a human girl was wearing an FA uniform jacket—and headed down the street, keeping my gaze high, scanning for fae.

After thirty minutes of wandering Covent Garden I'd lost my FA escort, and I had no idea when or where I was meant to regroup. I considered catching the subway back to FAHQ when I felt a familiar pull toward a basement club. I'd have known the voice from outside on the street, had I not been so preoccupied with finding Nyx. Inside, I couldn't mistake him for anyone else but Reign. He'd captured the crowd—packed wall-to-wall—in awe. The band behind gave it their all while Reign commanded the small stage as if he was playing to Wembley Stadium. His hair was a mess, his white shirt was barely buttoned so that it flared in dramatic fashion when he strode back and forth, his jeans sat low on his hips,
and
he didn't give a damn. In fact, the crowd lapped it up, hanging on his every word, screaming at his every glance. His voice rolled and teased. He had the kind of singing voice that seduced. Combined with the way he moved, his body a weapon in his arsenal, designed to seduce, he simply hypnotized, even to my immune eyes. Every word, every step, every glance;
I am powerful
, it said, and he was. Powerful enough to own this crowd of several hundred. Powerful enough to command a crowd of tens of thousands. This little club didn't know what hit it. The patrons screamed, waved their arms in the air, utterly lost in Reign's thrall. As I studied those nearest to me, saw how their eyes drank Reign in, I wondered if he could bespell with music. It wouldn't have surprised me; I already knew he could do things other fae couldn't—impossible things, no doubt made possible by the spirit of Cu Sith curled around his soul.

I leaned against the wall, draped in shadow, and smiled. He didn't give a damn about the curfew, the FA, or the London Met's SO-Thirty Division. This kind of reckless behavior was stupid, selfish, and dangerous. And I'd have expected nothing less from him. I might not have been an expert at—well, anything—but in this world, one restrained by laws and rules, Reign gave it the finger. It was difficult not to admire that, as foolish as it was.

“I'll be your light, your life. Till the darkness comes … ” he sang.

He was made for this. I hadn't seen that wild delight in his eyes since he'd introduced me to chocolate cake. And maybe when we'd kissed on the docks, before I'd witnessed the true monster inside him.

The song finished. He lifted his arms, eyes alight, broad grin a thing alive, and the crowd went nuts. They knew who he was, of course. Reign wasn't going to
pretend
to be anyone else. Perhaps this was organized, or knowing him, he'd likely decided to take to the stage on impulse.

A murmur rippled through the crowd, followed by sounds of a scuffle coming from the front entrance. I caught a glimpse of red and black before an unfamiliar FA warrior bellowed, “Let us through! Fae Authority.”

Someone screamed. The crowd surged. I was shoved back and almost lost my footing. A jolt of fear made my heart leap into my throat.
They'll kill him.
But the stage was empty.

“Search the premises,” one of the fae announced, clearly noticing Reign's absence.

The crowd heaved and rushed forward as one, blocking the warriors. On the fringes of the room, I skirted the mob and made my way toward the door tucked away behind the stage. I slipped through, found myself in a narrow passage, and jogged ahead.

Movement to my right. A door opened and Reign stepped out. He braced an arm against the opposite wall, blocking the passageway and my exit.

“Did you bring them here?” The look in his eyes wasn't kind.

“No, I—”

He snatched at my jacket and hauled me inside a cramped storage room. A single bare bulb did little to chase away the shadows. Racks and shelves climbed the walls, bringing them closer still.

Reign leaned a hand into my shoulder, holding me against the wall at arm's length. Raw delight still danced in his eyes. He breathed hard and heavy, still coming down from his performance. He'd told me once that there was nothing like performing to a crowd, no matter what the numbers. When the music had
him,
he lost himself, but in a good way—not like when the hound took over. He'd said it was like the best of everything; sex, love, freedom, joy—not that I'd know what any of those things felt like. On his face now, I saw that hunger, that thrill and a trickle of anticipation snatched at my breath. Even after what I'd seen, what he'd said, I still wanted him.

I batted his hand off my shoulder. “Don't touch me.”

He stepped back. “You're wearing FA colors.” He said it with a snarl, leaving no room for whatever explanation I might have.

“I didn't need to bring them here. You were drawing a crowd. You can't do this, the FA—”

“Can kiss my arse.” He closed the door and returned his suspicious glare on me. “I've earned my right to live in London. Who are they to take my freedom from me?”

“They'll kill you,” I hissed back.

A tight smile stretched across his lips. It was a wolfish smile, I realized. Rich with threat. “They can try.” He looked me over once more, lingering on the FA jacket. He clearly didn't approve, and I didn't care.

“It's not worth it,” I said. “Kael—”

“Are you his spokesperson now? I thought you had a mind of your own?”

I pursed my lips and swallowed the urge to rage at him. “Why are you being such an ass?”

He shrugged a shoulder. “Like I said, nobody is going to stop me or get in my way.” That
nobody
obviously included me.

A door slammed in the passageway. I pushed by Reign and leaned into the closed door, listening as footfalls hammered closer.

Reign
rested a shoulder against the wall and watched me. “I had everything.”

“
Shh
…”

A frown gathered shadows on his stubborn face, but he waited and listened until the quiet returned.

“I was loved by thousands,” he said, lowering his voice to a hissing whisper. “It took me years to blend in, to learn how to act as though I belonged. While the others clung onto their heritage, I discarded it and embraced this world. I learned the language, learned how to be loved for more than just being fae. I lived a life—a real life.” A muscle fluttered in his jaw. “Now I have nothing, I don't even have you. Who am I if I'm not performing for my fans? I lived through the purge, made a place for myself here. For what? Tell me that, American Girl.”

What was I supposed to say? I'd been handed a gift-wrapped life. Reign had clearly spent decades carving a place in London, one he could call home. I couldn't imagine what that might be like, to have it all ripped away in the space of a few hours. And he wasn't the only one. All of the fae would be feeling the same.

“I can't live in Under. I just—” Whatever he wanted to add, the words didn't come. Instead, the intensity and accusations in his gaze faded, until all I saw was that same old sorry smile. “I can't live like that.” He leaned his back against the wall and looked down.

The light, the joy I'd seen on stage, had all but faded from his face. Now his lips formed a grim line and his eyes darkened. He could barely hold my gaze. This wasn't just about sticking it to the authorities. He was hurting.

“I get it.” I straightened. “I do. But if Kael was here—”

“Kael.” He chuckled, and then added with a sly curl of his lips, “Kael doesn't frighten me.”

I
knew that. The only thing that frightened Reign was himself. “What if your control slips? What if the hound escapes?”

He pushed away from the wall and wandered to the back of the room in the space of two strides. “My control is just fine. Everything is fine; isn't that what you tell yourself?” He looked up to where a grubby rectangular street-level window hung open a crack.

Clearly, everything
was not
fine. And hadn't been since I'd been woven from the queen's draíocht and sent to kill him. Reign, like all fae, craved attention. He wouldn't be starved of it, not even to survive. He'd rather die in the spotlight than live in the dark. I didn't understand
that.
Surely living in the shadows was better than no life at all?

“I'm fine just as long as we're not together.” He'd forced those words through his teeth and kept his back to me through every one. I couldn't decide if it was bravery for him to push me away or cowardice. The least he could do was lie to my face.

“
We can be alone together
,” he told me once. When had I lost him? I thought we'd have time; just the two of us. Friends, because the truth of us meant we couldn't be anything more. He and Andrews were the only friends I'd had. Now I didn't even have them. Now, draped in FA colors, I didn't know what Reign and I were to each other.

I somehow managed to hold my expression, locking it down as though his words didn't cut to my unreal heart. Silly little me and my construct mind. How naïve I was to think my unreal life could mean something to a two-hundred-year-old fae. He had Shay. What did he need me for?

“
Alina.” An imminent apology softened his tone. He half turned and looked over his shoulder. Honesty widened and softened his eyes. “It's the truth. I wish it wasn't.”

I swallowed, just in case there was any hint of emotion that might lodge in my throat. I wouldn't let him see how his words hurt. I'd wanted to ask him about the spirit. He'd know if One of the Three resided in me, wouldn't he? But the words wouldn't come. I was afraid of the answer and of what it could mean. Maybe that's what he'd meant when he'd said
I was too much like her
. I looked into his eyes, his expression now one of regret, and wondered if he was deliberately hiding the truth. He'd always liked his secrets. “I should thank you. I don't have long left, and I wouldn't want to waste it on lies.”

I tugged open the door and stepped out into the passage. Two FA warriors immediately spotted me, noted my FA jacket and mismatched sweats, and clearly knew who I was. One narrowed his glare on the door I'd just closed behind me.

“He went that way.” I thumbed over my shoulder.

They came forward, sliding their daggers into their hands. Reign could take two warriors, but a scuffle here wouldn't win me any favors with the general.

I felt the press of my knives inside my boots. If I went for them, my ruse would be over.

“You saw Sovereign?” the leftmost warrior asked.

“Yup. Like I said, went that way.”

“What's in there?”

“I was looking for the ladies' room.”

I'd never been very good at lying, and their collective scowls told me I still wasn't.

“
Out of the way.” They barged by me and opened the door. The light was still on, but the room was empty. I smiled at the sight of the window, now closed. Reign had many ways of eluding the FA. They weren't going to catch him.

I shrugged and headed back toward the bar. “Like I said, he went the other way.”

The street was still packed outside the club. I emerged as the revelers parted around Nyx and Scaw. They didn't see me as I sidestepped and moved away, head bowed, collars up. On my way to the subway station, where I'd catch a train back to FAHQ, I glanced up at the rooftops to see if there might be a silhouette watching.

There wasn't.

Chapter Nine

I snapped my eyes open and saw a flash of red and black in the blink before a wet cloth was rammed in my mouth.
What?! Where—
? A band of fabric fell over my face, covering my eyes and pinning me down.
Wait. No!
I fought to move my head, my body, anything. Nothing made sense.
I can't breathe.
Panic clamped a vise around my chest and squeezed.
Breathe
… I focused on the air passing through my nose. In—out. In—out.

Think. This isn't Under. The FA. The general. I'm back at Holland Park.
I'd returned to the FA's HQ sometime before dawn and crashed out on my designated bunk. Hours or minutes ago? I wasn't sure.

Was this about Reign? About the bar? Did they know I'd spoken with him?

Hands
pushed down against my shoulders and chest. Fear jarred through my muddled thoughts.
They're killing me.
I twisted, bucked, and lashed out, catching something soft, accompanied by a masculine grunt. Hands clamped around my wrists, holding me still, while others rode roughshod under my arms, down around my waist and lower, sweeping between my legs. “Get off me! Let go!” But my words came out as muffled grunts and snarls.

“Unarmed,” a stranger's voice declared.

“Get her up.”

With the fragments of sleep and dreams still floating about my head, I tried to focus. Breathe in. Breathe out. They'd have cut my throat by now, if they'd wanted me dead. So what did they want?

Hands hauled me upright. I blindly lunged forward, hoping I could slip free of their grip. A fist or something harder hit me across the face. I reeled and was met by hands all over me once more, but this time they clasped me around the shins and lifted me up. I could hear myself demanding they let go, threatening, but the rag muffled the words. In my head though, it was crystal clear.
They'll kill me now.