City of Shadows (13 page)

“Run! Go!”

People avoided eye contact and tried to board the train, until the dark poured out of the carriage. Panic scattered the crowd in all directions.

“Call the FA!” I yelled, clutching at a bench so as not to get caught up in the rush. They pushed and shoved, falling over each other in their haste to get away.

A shrill scream broke over the crowd.

The lytch was out of the car. It reared high above the platform, before cresting and crashing down onto a fallen woman. Her scream cut off and I lost sight of her in the swirl of shadow.

“Not them! Try some old draíocht. Right out of Faerie,” I called, raising my voice high above the shouts.
Damn Faerie and its throwaways.
“I taste just like home.” I stepped into the middle of the now-empty platform and spread my arms. “Want a piece of me?” I didn't know how to fight this thing, but I could lure it away from the crowds.

The shadow folded over itself and tumbled forward. I bolted into one of the connecting pedestrian tunnels toward yet another platform. If I could keep it on the move, away from the ticket hall where commuters converged, I might be able to keep it distracted until the FA arrived.

Skidding out onto a Victoria Line platform, I couldn't tell whether it was north or southbound. But it was empty. And that was good enough.

“C'mon Kael, where's the damn FA?”

From
the midpoint of the platform, I eyed both the entrance and exit tunnels. Warm air pushed against my back and ruffled my hair, as though the tunnels breathed. Waiting.

It came—slithering from both tunnel openings. Black poured across the white tiled walls, and it wasn't slowing down.

Panic sliced through my thoughts, urging me to run.
Just run. Anywhere.
But there was nowhere left to go. I had the track at my back. I didn't relish my chances against a train.

Teeth gritted, dagger palmed, I faced the lytch, close enough that the stench stung my nose, throat and burned my eyes.
At least I won't fade away.
Fitting perhaps, that an old fragment of Faerie had created me and now an ancient part of Faerie would be my demise.

Alarms sounded. Deep, rolling sirens.

“You can't touch me.” I said the words, not really realizing I was speaking them, especially as my voice didn't sound like my own. The sirens drowned out much of my voice, but not enough that I didn't hear myself speak a language strange and foreign. Fae words—smooth and rich—rolled off my tongue like a lover's promises.

The swirling shadow waited.

The words came unbidden then. Words I didn't know, but I understood them as soon as they left my lips. “You have no power over me, lytch.”

A rippled shivered through the lytch.

“You do not belong here.” English this time, but no less threatening.

The
lytch's edges frayed and receded, just a few inches, but enough to know my words were working.
I am not afraid.
I reached out my empty left hand.
The dark is afraid of me.

It burst forward. I lifted my arm in a pathetic attempt to shield myself, stepped back—into air. I only knew I'd fallen when my head cracked against one of the suspended train tracks. A dull pain boomed around my skull. A rumbling quivered through my bones.

The dark loomed over me until there was nothing left but a black so thick it shimmered.

I never did get to see snow.

“Alina.”

“Go—go!”

Words—a chanting of fae words filled the air, like those I'd spoken, but this time from several voices.
The general. The FA.
Their words were a threat: a promise, from the general's lips, aimed at the lytch. His voice echoed down the platform and into the tunnels where twin headlights pierced the dark.

Sparks danced below the train as it thundered forward.

I shoved upright, but my hand slipped off the track, and I fell forward cracking my chin on the rail.
No, no, no, move!
I scrambled over the tracks, legs slipping through the gaps.

My left leg slipped.
It's too late.
The train was coming fast. So damn fast. I lifted my head and reached for the edge of the platform.
Too high. I can't.

Brakes squealed.

A terrible, icy fear burst over me. I lunged, caught the edge of the platform, and heaved myself up. Hands gripped under my arms and hauled me onto the
platform
as the train thundered by. I twisted onto my back and watched the red and silver carriages blur by. Seconds—just another few seconds and I'd have been killed.

Nyx slapped me on the back. “Cutting it close, Alina?” I blinked up at her grinning face. She held out her hand. “You gonna lie there all day?”

I took her hand and let her haul me onto unsteady legs. She beamed back at me. One of her fine eyebrows arched under her bangs.

The FA swarmed about the platform and standing among them General Kael stood glaring in my direction. By the look on his face, he clearly wasn't happy, but whether it was because I'd survived, or nearly hadn't, I couldn't be sure.

I wobbled, until Nyx planted her hand on my shoulder. “Steady there.”

I lifted my chin and fought the urge to hurl at her feet. The ache pounding behind my eyes didn't help.

The alarms died and the quiet flooded in, until Kael's voice boomed, “
Someone—
” and by “someone,” his glare clearly meant
me
—“with extensive knowledge of Under released a lytch into the tunnels.”

I'd expected some sort of acknowledgement for holding the damn thing back, not suspicion. “Is it dead?” I hissed through my teeth.

“Dead?” He didn't curl his lip, but it twitched and was damn close to a snarl. “No, it's not dead. It'll return to a nest somewhere. We'll have to shut down the whole network.”

“Call it a strike,” Samuel said, casually joining us from the nearest pedestrian tunnel—still wearing his civilian clothing. With all eyes now on him, he explained, “Blame it on strike action. Close the Underground. I'll have our squads sweep the tunnels, starting with any disused or recently closed stations.”

Kael
nodded and then turned his penetrative eyes to me. “Where's the hound?”

My defenses shot up. “How should I know?”

Karl started forward. “He has both the knowledge and motive to release the lytch.”

“Bullshit.” My stomach heaved. I pressed the cool back of my hand to my mouth.

The general stopped just outside of grabbing distance and glared down his nose. “If you know of his whereabouts you need to tell me. He's a threat to our peace, and a very powerful one at that.”

One of the Three.
“So am I.”

I'd spoken fae. I'd held back the lytch, and I'd liked it. Some of those same thoughts had to be filtering through Kael's mind. He knew what I'd done, and what it meant. We both did.

Nyx's hand tightened on my shoulder. “C'mon, let's get you back to HQ.” Her eyes added,
before you say something you'll regret.

“There are few fae confident enough to roam Unde
r
, Alina,” Kael said. “Sovereign is one of them. The queen had him running errands for years. What makes you think he's stopped her work now?”

“Because Reign helped me kill her.”

Nyx pulled me back, but I shook off her grip and stepped closer to Kael. I had to look up, but at least being shorter than him, I could punch him in the balls if I needed to. “You're just pissed I survived, aren't you?”

His eyes narrowed. “You and I will discuss what happened here, but not yet. I have the hound to find and tunnels to search.”

I
curled my hand into a fist. One swing, that's all I wanted. “Reign didn't do this.”

“He's still at-large
.
Just because London has changed, it doesn't mean our ways have.” Kael nodded at Samuel. “Get her out of here.”

I tensed to swing for the general, but Samuel's warm hand covered my fist before I could release the punch. More alarmed by his touch, I shoved him back with a scowl. “Don't touch me.”

He lifted his hands as though in surrender. I kept my head high and strode from the platform, managing to make my way up the motionless escalators before throwing up. Nyx found me shortly after. She told me swinging for Kael would get me a one-way ticket to solitary confinement, as she helped bundle me into a Range Rover.

I was slumped against the door, shivering and bone weary, watching the London streets blur by while Scaw drove, when Nyx leaned over the rear seats and pressed her hand to my neck. She didn't wait for my consent, and she shushed me when I immediately protested.

“Sweetheart, you might not be one of us, but you aren't doing anyone any favors by starving yourself. Take a little freely. No debt owed. It won't last long, but it'll help enough to ease the pain, and I can't stand to look at your gray face and listen to your sniveling any longer.” Her words were harsh, but her smile wasn't, and the warmth I felt through her touch was genuine enough. I didn't have the energy to fight; I closed my eyes, letting Nyx's draíocht find all the empty places inside me.

Chapter Eleven

I had to get inside the general's war room.

Nyx had already told me they'd be leaving me behind while the general and his warriors went looking for Reign, so I'd have the big old house to myself. I was exhausted but couldn't sleep. Hungry but couldn't eat. But I'd survived, against the odds. And while the FA was otherwise occupied, I had every intention of finding out where Becky could be. Kael's war room had to be the best place to start.

But until they left, I had time to kill, so I headed for the pool. Rumors had quickly spread through the FA ranks that I'd faced a lytch, and while I'd hoped that might earn me some respect, all it seemed to do was further isolate me. I couldn't win. And didn't care. I wasn't there for them, or me. I was there for Andrews, for Becky.

After changing into a long tee and sweatpants, I retraced my steps down the many winding staircases and twisting corridors to the pool. The fae sure knew how to luxuriate. The well-placed greenery, decorative tiles, and illuminated water were typical of the fae's opulent tastes.

Nyx's draíocht had gone a long way to easing my aches and bruises, but I still hurt in all the wrong places. A swim might help. Dumping a towel beside the pool, I stepped out of my sweatpants, pulled my hair into a ponytail, shook my hands out, and prepared to dive in when I caught sight of a shadowy blur below the water. My first thought was
lytch—
I had the dagger out of my towel bundle before the thing could attack.

Samuel
broke the surface. Water plastered his hair to his face, sharpening already defined features. His sparkling amethyst eyes flicked to the dagger in my hand, but his disinterested expression didn't change.

He braced tanned arms at the pool's edge and heaved himself out.

Oh my.
There was no right place to look, and when I tried to avert my eyes my gaze it found its way back to him. At least, had he been the lytch, I would have known what to do.

Besides the cursory glance at the dagger, he barely acknowledged me as he padded to a lounger and picked up a towel.

I'd never seen a fae in shorts and most definitely not one in wet
short
-shorts. His back muscles rolled in a tantalizing play. Water beaded and trickled, drawing my gaze into the little valleys and ripples. Every inch of him spoke of strength and speed, a body designed to hunt. Construct or not, I was still female, and clearly not immune to
that
display of raw masculinity.

He ran the towel over his hair and then twisted at the waist and raised an eyebrow.

I closed my mouth. “I was, er …” What was I doing?

“Do you always swim armed?”

I looked at the dagger in my hand and tried to grasp at some words that hopefully, together, would make something of a coherent sentence. “The, er, I um …” And failed. “Do I need it?” I finally asked. “You were there when your “
brothers
” beat me.”

He tossed the towel down and turned, his face stern. “I didn't lay a hand on you. I was there at Kael's order. I didn't enjoy any part of what was done. Despite what you might think, we're not animals.”

A
smile threatened to pull at my lips. I somehow kept my gaze from running the length of him, swallowed hard, planted a hand on my hip, and tossed the dagger onto my towel. “You might not be, but Kael is.”

“And yet you want him to train you?” The delicious timber of his voice, deepened with a slight growl, had curious flutters stirring way down low.

I pulled my gaze away and walked to the edge of the pool. “I know what you are.” I wasn't entirely sure I could swim. When I'd first arrived and plunged into the pool with Samuel, I'd reacted without thinking. That seemed to be key to a lot of things in my life.

“And what is that?” he asked, intrigue lifting his voice and adding something of a playful lilt.

I dove off the edge.

Instinct kicked in. I could swim. Good thing too, because I doubted Samuel would have come to my rescue. I surfaced in the middle of the pool and treaded water. He still stood there, somehow managing to look both irritated and bored. I was beginning to wonder if that was the fae's default expression.

“You ever heard of a girl called Rebecca Andrews?” I asked. Her name echoed about the pool. I blinked water out of my eyes and flicked my bangs back so I could watch Samuel's expression, but little had changed. No flicker of recognition. Just the same slightly bored look.

“No. Should I have?” His eyes narrowed. “I've never met a fae who hates the fae as much as you do.”

“I'm not fae.” An automatic reply, like the reflexes that had me treading water.