Crest (Ondine Quartet Book 3)

Copyright ©2013 Emma Raveling

.mobi edition

All rights reserved.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form by or any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the author or publisher.

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Cover design: Michelle Preast (
www.michellepreast.com
) | Editor: Cara Milkin

ILLUSION. POWER. IDENTITY.

TENSIONS ARE reaching a fever pitch everywhere Kendra Irisavie turns.

Darkness settles over elementals as a new threat stirs suspicions of a betrayal from within. Details of recent events spread through Haverleau, prompting doubts over Irisavie leadership. The mysterious Selkie Kingdom finally opens its doors, but the gesture only fans the flames of division. And despite the perils involved, Kendra finds it difficult to ignore the demands of her heart.

As the body count rises, pressure also grows to shift the tides of war. The
sondaleur
is on the hunt, but tracking the Aquidae leader is the greatest challenge she's ever faced. With the Shadow playing a deadly game of obsession and horror, Kendra's best chance to win is to unravel a tangled web of deception spanning back to the origins of the elemental world.

Nothing is what it seems and the closer she gets to the truth, the more dangerous her pursuit for answers becomes.

When the unthinkable happens, Kendra must decide if survival is worth the sacrifice.

Conflicting loyalties, fierce passions, and irrevocable choices ignite in the electrifying third installment of the Ondine Quartet.

COPYRIGHT

BOOK DESCRIPTION

A NOTE from the Author

Dedication

Epigraph

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

NINETEEN

TWENTY

TWENTY-ONE

TWENTY-TWO

TWENTY-THREE

TWENTY-FOUR

TWENTY-FIVE

TWENTY-SIX

TWENTY-SEVEN

TWENTY-EIGHT

TWENTY-NINE

THIRTY

THIRTY-ONE

THIRTY-TWO

THIRTY-THREE

THIRTY-FOUR

THIRTY-FIVE

THIRTY-SIX

THIRTY-SEVEN

THIRTY-EIGHT

THIRTY-NINE

FORTY

Ondine Quartet

Ondine Prequel

Terminology

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Once again, the glossary is purposefully placed at the end of the book. If you'd like to bookmark it the direct link is here:

Terminology

For Mr. Berg

Rien, ni les vieux jardins reflétés par les yeux
Ne retiendra ce œ qui dans la mer se trempe

- Stéphane Mallarmé, "Brise Marine",
Parnasse contemporain

Nothing, not old gardens in young eyes,

Holds the heart that still drips with the sea

- Stéphane Mallarmé, "Sea Breeze",
The Contemporary Parnassus

SHADOWS DANCED ON STEEL.

GLIMMERING palette of green, blue, and red lights painted the walls, vivid splashes heightening an atmosphere of delirious frenzy.

"Coming in." Her condescending tone came through the earpiece. "Be ready."

I stepped from the wall niche and slid through lightless patches stretched across the landing.

Music pulsed, a booming heart vibrating through a metal and concrete beast.

Empath carefully tracked the target.

One block away.

Ripe scent of sweat, cigarettes, and alcohol thickened the air of Jardiel, a club in the East Village.

Darkness shrouded the second floor, murky corners filled only with a few couples seeking privacy.

I leaned against the railing and looked down.

What a dive.

Floors sticky for reasons better left unexamined. Dealers working the edges, a few girls trading favors for drugs. Overcrowded, poorly ventilated, and skirting the limits of the city's fire and health code regulations.

Oriel cut her way through writhing bodies, height and lustrous honeyed hair making her easy to spot.

She took her assigned position on the southeast corner of the dance floor and glanced up at me.

A small nod of confirmation.

I slipped into the recess above the entrance.

Metal door screeched open and I zeroed in on the figure up front.

Edmundo.

Late twenties, hair the color of weak tea, and sharp, angular features that gave him a perpetually hungry look. Barely suppressed violence lurked in his eyes.

Virtue twitched at the black void inside him.

"Target in," I murmured. "I'm tracking."

During our first week in New York, Julian made contact with the city's Aquidae cell. Shit had quickly hit the fan and now the Manhattan Lieutenant knew we were looking for him.

Edmundo came on our radar when he showed up at a crime scene involving the deaths of Mark and Barry, the demons who'd brought Julian in.

He headed directly for the bar, predatory gaze observing the human dancers.

Broken, brutalized body of a girl with flaming red hair flashed before me.

In Mark's Fifth Avenue apartment, we'd discovered a hard drive full of videos of other girls. Other unspeakable horrors inflicted on humans.

I hadn't been able to watch longer than a few minutes before my stomach heaved.

Edmundo was hunting tonight.

Unfortunately for him, the only person he'd get was me.

Doors opened and another group entered the club. Eyes gravitated toward a male near the back.

Crisp white shirt offset olive skin and thick, black hair tied back in a low ponytail. Icy expression, an excellent Aquidae replica, added the finishing touch.

The glamour was perfect. You'd never guess he was a chevalier.

"He's at the bar."

His attention turned north. "Got it."

Strain tightened his eyes from the effort of extending magic over three people.

"Watch yourself, LeVeq."

"Worried about me, darling?"

"You wish."

Nerves pushed against the stifling sensation of his Virtue. Projection reduced my aura's brightness, glamouring me tonight in a rounder, shorter body with an unruly mass of coppery hair.

The irony didn't escape me.

Aquidae concealed demonic essence behind human appearances.

Elemental magic, once used to assimilate to human life, now cast us as Aquidae.

Sometimes you had to become a monster to catch one.

She brought up the rear, trailing Julian by a few feet. Arms relaxed, hips swung with an easy grace. Careless confidence shaded Renee Bessette's every movement, a surety from growing up the beloved eldest child of a Marquisa.

Bright tawny eyes shone in a heart-shaped face with a full, berry-stained mouth. As tonight's bait, most of Julian's magic went toward obscuring her aura.

Red ombre streaks in her ebony hair and the removal of an intricate phoenix tattoo stretching from her neck to wrist were the only glamour applied.

She moved on to the dance floor. Julian approached the target, flickering lights making his movements start and stop every few seconds like the stuttering of an old film.

Worry pressed in and I drew closer to the stairs.

Edmundo's shoulders tensed.

Julian carefully tilted his head, revealing the Origin mark above his carotid artery.

"I'm with Armand."

Another minute stretched.

Down the stairs, up the west wall, diagonally across the dance floor.

Thirty seconds to get there.

Renee danced wildly, arms swinging above her head in ecstatic abandon, attention locked on the two men.

Fingers touched the cool handle of my blade.

Edmundo's shoulders dropped.

I let out a long breath I didn't realize I was holding.

"Where is he?"

"He's been slightly delayed." Julian spoke with a rapid accent, flavored with the crisp articulation of the Mediterranean. "A business emergency."

Actually, Armand was dead on the floor of his Chelsea loft. An inspection of his home uncovered a few photos, including one of his second-in-command.

Julian had assumed his appearance tonight.

"Nothing to do with yesterday's shipment, I hope?" Edmundo took a drink of water. "The Lieutenant is worried enough as it is."

"Of course not."

"Good. I don't think Armand would want to disappoint him on such a matter."

"It's a simple hold-up. He'll be here soon," Julian smoothly lied. "Why are you meeting him at this shithole?"

Edmundo's soft laugh made the hairs on my arm rise. "Because, my friend, it is easier to do what I like in places where no one will be missed."

Eyes scanned the floor for any sign of trouble. Oriel maintained her position, concentration steady.

Renee flirted with two humans and inched toward the bar.

"It's not your turn yet," I muttered.

She ignored me and danced a few steps closer.

Julian shifted. "Armand told me there've been problems higher up."

Edmundo shrugged. "After what happened with Mark, the Lieutenant is understandably concerned."

"We need someone to replace him as soon as possible. There is uncertainty among the ranks."

No answer. Instinct tingled.

Don't push.

"If we had a chance to speak to the Lieutenant," Julian pressed, "we could help him find someone to take Mark's place."

Edmundo showed no visible reaction but the air trembled.

Apprehension rose.

"Why are you so interested?" His voice turned silky, a snake ready to strike. "You think Armand has a chance at the position?"

Warning bells went off in my head and I rushed down the stairs.

Before Julian could respond, Renee strode to the bar and wedged herself between them.

Pulse shot into overdrive. "What are you doing?"

"Hey," she purred. "Can I have some of that water?"

Too obvious, too soon.

Keeping the trio in sight, I pushed my way through the mass of inebriated dancers.

"Help yourself."

Edmundo handed over his bottle, watching with interest as she gulped the liquid down.

"Thanks." She leaned in, lightly rubbing against his arm. His eyes dropped to the flushed skin exposed by her gaping top. "It's so hot in here."

She closed her eyes and moved sinuously, back arching, body inching closer until she was practically crawling on top of him. Inheriting her mother's acting skills came in handy. She really looked like she was on X.

"That it is," Edmundo murmured.

She took his hand, voice low and seductive. "Maybe we should go somewhere cooler."

"Lead the way, gorgeous."

"Renee. Knock it off!"

No indication she heard me. By the time I got to the bar, she and Edmundo were six feet away, heading toward the stairs located in the southwest corner.

Julian was already in motion. With my Virtue tightly locked on the other two, I followed his back through the sea of grinding bodies.

"I lost you guys." Oriel's worried voice came through the earpiece.

"Renee's heading downstairs with the target," Julian told her.

A creative stream of cursing blistered my ear. Being in the NYPD supplied her with a colorful vocabulary.

I waited until she paused to take a breath. "Meet us there. We're going dark."

Julian halted on the corner of the dance floor and pulled the tiny plastic mold we used for wireless communication out of his ear. I did the same.

"Remove the magic."

"No." He headed for the stairs.

I resisted the urge to slap the back of his stubborn head. "I need your full concentration —"

"And I need you to remain hidden in case more of them show up."

We descended. With each step, music's intense pounding lessened and the club's chaotic lights faded.

"What are we looking at?" he said under his breath.

"First room on the right." I'd scoped the entire venue out hours ago. Edmundo and Renee were in the women's bathroom. "Floor is clear. No other humans."

Two hanging bulbs dimly illuminated the narrow basement hallway. Stale cigarettes and danger perfumed the emptiness echoing off gloomy corners and grime-darkened ceiling.

Julian's
kouperet
and my dagger were already out, blades softly glowing with Essence. Magic flowed through my veins in a steady stream, its energy ready for use.