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

At the word blood, I buck against the bonds. I open my mouth to scream, to bellow, but nothing comes out.

“By making the choice, I also retained access to parts of myself.” Lea speaks again.

I strain with all my might, desperate to get to her.

“How do you know that?” Soren from the Humvee says. “I’ve seen plenty of shadow fae. They’re husks of their former selves, driven to do grim deeds and so far out of balance, they cannot help but harm.”

“Perhaps that was a sacrifice I was willing to make. Glandias told me she had big plans. She said, ‘The best part, no one will see what’s coming.’ I decided right then that she’d be the one who wouldn’t see what was coming because it would be me. Lea, the fae she was making her prize warrior. I called forth my light, the best parts of me. Committing myself to it so I could access it when I’d need to. Then I let it go.”

“But that’s the thing. When a fae’s shadow is rended, there is no more light. It’s all shadow,” Soren says.

“You’re right, but it’s still out there somewhere. It didn’t die or disappear. It’s in the world, the ether, or wherever it goes. When I need to, I’ll summon it back.”

“How do you know?” The female’s voice is small, unsure.

“Because I made the choice to give it up,” Lea says. “It’s mine. It’ll return to me and reunite with the light.”

The other female makes a sound as though interested.

“Now, where is Tyrren?” Lea asks.

I burst free from the chair and storm into the other room. I see red. Blood. Prey. I will feed. Soren is nearest, the biggest, the juiciest. I go into a wrathful hunger and tackle him. I try to open my mouth to pierce him with my teeth, but it’s stuck shut. I punch and pummel, get him in a hold, and try to bare my teeth again.

Then in a flurry of black feathers, he slips from my grip and becomes a raven, flapping out of reach and toward a turret.

“Tyrren,” Lea says. “Tyrren, no.”

I blink a few times.

Her almond eyes, slender nose, and full lips appear carefully arranged as if captured in the still of a beautiful black and white photograph. But I remember her vibrancy, her freckles, her midnight eyes. I’ll always know what the real Lea looks like. Now, she’s in shadow.

But it’s not enough to slake my thirst. I lunge at the others. I force the bonds that seal my mouth to break. If I can’t feed on human blood, shifter or fae blood will have to do. Baring my teeth, I leap toward the other two fae girls, the ones who look remarkably like Lea.

The shining edge of a sword, aimed directly at my chest stops me. “Don’t move,” the woman wielding the sword says. She wears a police officer’s uniform and the badge says, Heather Bond.

“Yes, we’ve met. No, I won’t hesitate to end you.” Her voice is as unyielding as the weapon.

The other two fae send spikes of frosty energy my way, binding my arms and freezing me in place.

A tall, dark, and devastatingly handsome man strides in.

“Ivan?” Lea’s eyes widen.

“How is he going to drink this blood if his arms are bound?” Lea’s uncle asks.

“You can feed him,” the fae with dirty blond hair says dismissively.

“I’m all for vampire rights, but it stops there.” Ivan turns to me. “I promise to give you all the blood you desire if you promise not to hurt anyone here.”

“Or anyone period,” adds Soren, the raven shifter. He brushes off his jacket. A single black feather flutters to the floor.

I nod. My magical shackles loosen, albeit reluctantly, and I begin to feed.

Heather lowers the sword. “So this is the safe house, huh?”

“We thought Rose Court was fitting,” says one of the fae.

Heather lifts an eyebrow.

“It’s a Borea thing. Anyway, thanks for your help,” the fae with whitish hair says.

“Don’t mention it, Kiki. I learned what I could about the Nefral Weapons Trade.” Heather slices the air with the sword. “It’s a perfect blade especially for slaying demons, but it’s not part of the weapons trade. There are no swords involved.” She passes it to Kiki.

The hilt, the contours of the metal, and the way it glints are familiar. “I made that sword.”

“Yep, and it’s the ploy I used to get you locked up,” Ivan says.

“That’s a criminal offense.” Heather jerks her head in his direction.

Ivan smirks. “I’d never deny that I’m a criminal but more of the Robin Hood variety.”

“You can get behind that, Val,” Kiki says to the fae with dirty blond hair. “Rob from the false king and give to the unseen.”

“Except I rob from gangs and other crooks and give to the vampires.” Ivan reaches for the sword. “And this particular item I asked Huxley to make for Lea.”

He passes it to her. I remember working the pommel into a perfect sphere. I crafted the flames on the hilt with care, hammered the heck out of the blade, and practically imbued the thing with my blood, sweat, and tears.

“Why?” Lea’s hard eyes land on Ivan.

For a second, he flinches like he was kicked in the chest.

“If I’m not mistaken, your sisters are here to tell you that,” Ivan says.

“Wait. You knew about them?” Lea is on her feet. Her shadow darkens to a shade that can only be described as ominous.

He holds up his hands. “I’ll tell you my part, but put the sword down, Lea.” As ever, there’s a level of command in his voice that anyone would be hard-pressed to ignore.

Heather lifts her eyebrows as though impressed.