Fae of the South (Court of Crown and Compass Book 3) by E. Hall (good books to read in english TXT) 📗

After debating whether to track down Ivan and request back up, I realize there’s not enough time. I park in the shade of a warehouse as the weak sun, shrouded in clouds, rises over the city.

I lean back against the headrest and replay the plan Jurik and I discussed. My accelerator foot twitches with the urge to take a few laps around this deserted part of the city or simply speed away. The maze of graffiti reminds me of Brooklyn and what’s at stake. It’s time to kick butt and take names.

Feeling the pulse of magic in my veins now that I’m beyond the walls and restrictions of RIP Jr, I slip from the Range Rover. I keep close to the long wall of the warehouse until it links up with a brick building. After the loud chugging of a train fades away in the nearby rail yard, a heavy bass and drum rhythm takes its place. I follow the music.

I reach the kind of alley any city girl knows not to go down, but it’s game on. I disappear into the relative darkness. Turning a corner, an industrial light, yellowed with dead moths and dust, guide me toward the correct door. Sprayed into the rusty metal, I make out a broad letter X with a snake slithering up the center.

I knock three times as Jurik’s informant instructed. The door slides open to reveal a burly guy dressed in black. Smoky plumes, like ghosts, escape into the alley. The music gets louder.

“I’m here to see Emeric,” I say.

He steps aside, allowing me entry and then slams the door, locking me inside the dim and cavernous building.

“No one comes here and demands to see Emeric.”

“I’m not just anyone,” I mutter, but over the sound of music and machinery, I don’t think he hears me.

The thug leads me down a metal set of stairs. They shift loosely, threatening to come unbolted. It only occurs to me now that I likely have wings. The fae we learned about at reform school could fly. Can I or was I born without them? Then again, I saw plenty of fae in the dorm and they didn’t have wings. Obviously, the prohibitions on magic prevented that at RIP Jr. I scan my body, searching for the sense that they’re there somewhere.

My back tightens and I adjust my shoulders. I’m not sure how it’ll work, but if I have to fly away, I hope it’s possible. Always good to have a getaway plan. Too bad I sent my getaway driver back to RIP Jr.

Below, people clad in black huddle over large vats of roiling liquid. A burnt smell stings my nose. In the air, I taste the liquid Jurik called stijl during the Fae Court ball. A craving comes on. Even after that single sip, I want more. Strange.

We stop in a room with a large window stained with soot.

“Wait here,” the thug tells me.

Despite my vulnerability, I exhale with annoyance. They’re making me wait?

The door closes. There isn’t much snooping to do. The walls are bare except for spray-painted messages screaming about anarchy. In one corner, the skeletons of disused office furniture collect dust. Once I’ve explored the perimeter, the desk under the window draws my attention. I flip through a disarrayed pile of papers, maps, and a list of names that mean nothing to me. That is until I get to a file with Tyrren’s photo and bio. Beneath it are several others, including mine. Could this be a duplicate of what he found in Jurik’s office?

The door at the back of the room scrapes open.

I force myself not to startle and turn as though I’ve been casually waiting.

The silhouette of a familiar figure appears out of the shadows. Emeric walks toward me. When he’s a few yards away, he claps his hands together.

I grit my teeth. I won’t show fear.

Behind him, are several more thugs. The smell of demons reeks—no surprise he has demons working for him. I should’ve asked Jurik for a weapon. Then again, I have plenty of ice-fire power at my fingertips...if I can bring myself to use it. Staring into Emeric’s jackal-like eyes, I’m determined to see to it that the job is finished—to get retribution for what he tried to do to me sophomore year and then everything at RIP Jr.

“Emeric,” I coo. I bend my hatred in order to stay in character, to remain convincing enough not to expose my intentions.

“What a surprise,” he says smugly as though he knew I’d come crawling back.

I fight the urge to punch him and instead win back his graces.

“Today is already starting to look promising. First, we brought down three casinos, emptying them of their cash and their guests. Then burned down a building that covered an entire block. I love letting my crew play with fire.” He laughs. “And now the girl I’ve been waiting for all my life returns to me, unbidden.” He circles me as though the secret is hidden behind my back.

“I couldn’t stand being away from you a moment longer. I got rid of Tyrren. Sent him to a place from which he can never return...I’m sorry if I hurt you, but I know how strong you are. It was all I could do to get him off my back. He was going to my uncle and I didn’t want anything to come between us.” Good thing I’m not full-fae. They can’t lie.

“And somehow you found your way to me?” Of course, he’s suspicious.

I close the space between us and gaze into his obsidian eyes like I’ve done so many times. “If we’re meant to be together nothing can keep us apart.” Gag.

His lips pull too tightly for his expression to be an actual smile. “Frost Fae are