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  Chapter Three

  The woman who’d entered the restaurant seemed, at first, to be exactly the demon Veruca had been told to expect. She had a densely knotted soul humming in her chest, her walk was purposeful, and she zeroed in on Veruca and Finn the moment she’d crossed the threshold. As she got closer, however, Veruca realized that she was missing one very key identifier: Belial’s mark.

  Still, determined to be polite and not make any assumptions about this inhuman person coming to an abrupt halt next to the table, Veruca smiled politely up into her yellowed eyes and greeted her.

  “Good day, may we help you?”

  “Veruca, Reaper?”

  “Indeed,” Veruca said, already preparing her magic to reach out and grab for the woman’s soul in case she chose to try something awful. She wasn’t her own being, Veruca could tell. The knot in her chest was made up of uncomfortable fragments of soul, none of them complete enough to make up one entire person. It was like someone had taken a small town’s worth of souls, ripped them to bits, and then picked pieces at random to knit back together.

  Veruca wasn’t entirely sure why someone would do such a thing, as having a mismatched soul always ended in disaster, but she thought from the blank look on the woman’s face that it probably wouldn’t have gotten her anywhere to ask.

  “You’re to follow me at once. Someone wants to speak to you.”

  “And who is that someone?”

  “I’m only to escort you to the meeting place and to give you this.”

  Veruca went tense as the woman reached into her jacket, her entire hand disappearing. Mind on Finn’s safety, Veruca prepared her magic to strike quickly, hoping that whatever was about to come into the light was harmless. If the woman had a gun and aimed to shoot either one of them, Veruca worried she may not be quick enough. She’d been shot before and knew she could handle the pain again if it came to it, but if Finn was in danger, she didn’t want to take any risks.

  Unfortunately, Veruca failed to anticipate that Finn wasn’t the only one who might be in some sort of peril.

  ****

  At a loss as to why Veruca looked so nervous about meeting some random demon, Finn considered his surroundings. He didn’t have much to use should the situation turn dire, but he supposed the butter knife or fork wrapped in a cloth napkin would come in handy. The plate too, probably. He’d seen plenty of old movies where someone had been felled by a heavy piece of flatware.

  As the lady pulled a small picture from her breast pocket, Veruca relaxed minutely, but only for the moment that it took for the woman to get the Polaroid from her jacket to the table.

  Finn tipped his head, frowning at what he was seeing and wondering what exactly Veruca’s pal Donald was doing with a dog bone in his mouth.

  Veruca was on her feet, her hands gripping the woman’s shirt before Finn’s mind could register that what he was seeing wasn’t a dog bone, but a gag, and that Donald had probably not willingly posed for the picture.

  “What the hell?” Finn exclaimed, looking up to demand answers out of the woman.

  Veruca had already started down that path, yanking her close as if their heights weren’t madly out of sync. “This had better be some sort of joke,” she said, her voice low, her Venezuelan accent coming through at the back half.

  Finn’s brows went up.

  “No joke,” the woman intoned, her face curiously expressionless. She was strangely unbothered by being handled, but Veruca’s ferocity had alarmed several of the other patrons. “I’m to give you that and ask you to follow me. Please let go of my shirt.”

  Veruca hesitated, and her nostrils flared with what Finn recognized as anger, but after a few moments she let go, taking a step back. Flicking her gaze to Finn, she clenched her fists, her brows furrowing with frustration. After a second, she looked back up at the woman, her expression blank, even though her nails were likely still digging half-moons into her palms. “Where are we going?”

  “Somewhere safe, I assure you. You’re not to be harmed. The picture is just to entice you to join me, to let you know how important it is that you do.”

  “My love,” Finn said, slipping the picture into his pocket as he hooked Veruca’s purse over his arm and got to his feet. “Your play rehearsals should take place in a less public venue, don’t you think?” Throwing a wink to the table closest to them, Finn covered himself in the skin of a man who wasn’t terrified for one of his good friends. No need for some poor schmoe to call the cops because Veruca’s worry over Donald ended in bloodshed. Better they think it was some sort of joke or over-eager community theatre troupe, than an actual threat on a man’s life.

  Veruca didn’t answer Finn, but the question had been rhetorical. She wasn’t so angry she couldn’t form words, she just didn’t want to waste words, he assured himself. After a deep breath, which seemed to relax her whole body, she took her purse from him without a word, and then gestured for the woman to lead the way. Finn hooked an arm around her shoulders, just in case she needed to be restrained from grabbing for the gal’s throat.

  ****

  Veruca recognized a portal to Fairy when she saw one, and the fact that the back of this grocery store had one permanently etched into its stucco did nothing to assuage her worries about the fact that they’d been led right up to its threshold.

  “That’s some graffiti, eh?” Finn said, admiring the artful, enchanted doorway inked over the grooves cut into a rectangle. “Like looking into Oz or Narnia or something, don’t’cha think?”

  “It’s Fairy,” Veruca said as the woman stepped up to the doorway, pressed her hand flat against the middle section, and pushed. A bar shimmered into being out of nowhere, the doorway creaked, and the painting of sweeping landscapes, swooping airborne creatures, and sunny skies swung inward like an entrance to a whimsical candy shop.

  “That’s … terrifying,” Finn mumbled, his grip on Veruca’s hand tightening. She let him have a second to adjust, before stepping forward and tugging him inside.

  It probably hadn’t been the best idea to go with the strange inhuman woman who reportedly had Donald held hostage, but she didn’t want to take the chance that he was really in trouble.

  On the ride over, the woman had driven in silence, every turn and movement precise, like she was a robot with all the driving laws uploaded directly into her matrix.

  Veruca had taken the time to call Donald’s mobile, his home, and the hotel where he worked for her as head of security. Either she’d gotten no answer, or whomever she’d spoken with hadn’t known where he was.

  Going with the woman to an unnamed location had seemed the best course of action at the time, though she did wish she’d left Finn behind to ensure his safety. Not that he would’ve let her go on her own, of course, but she probably should have at least attempted to send him to a local hotel along with their luggage.

  “What’s this place?” Veruca asked as the doorway shut behind them and darkness fell. The woman said nothing, standing still just ahead, faint lights in the distance illuminating only her silhouette.

  “Last time I went through something like that I had to fight a giant snake!” Finn whispered, his voice squeaking at the edges.

  “You will not be harmed,” the woman stated, before turning to face them. “I’m to go back to my usual duties. Your escort will be here soon. Please wait.”

  Veruca watched the woman disappear into the darkness and then took the opportunity to look around. Her eyes were slow to adjust to the darkness, though that could have been a consequence of being in Fairy. She had only the most basic understanding of the place, had never been invited inside before, but Belial had told her about it here and there. He’d wanted to prepare her in case she’d ever ended up in the place against her will. She couldn’t begin to fathom how she might have gotten herself and Finn out, should the need arise, but she could at least recognize that they were no longer on earth—or, at least, not as far as she could tell.

  Belial had described Fairy
as a parallel universe of sorts, a place that existed right alongside earth, but that didn’t follow the same rules. In fact, as far as he’d explained, Fairy didn’t have rules, really. Some pockets were so vastly different from others as to be completely incomprehensible to the residents of each.

  Veruca was glad she and Finn hadn’t been brought into some alternate reality where oxygen and gravity didn’t even exist.

  The lights ahead, which felt familiar, seemed to glow brighter, their warmth and hum coming closer at such a pace that Veruca was sure at first that she’d been imagining it. Sprites, she realized as one hovered up to her face and seemed to kiss her nose. She’d come across these here and there. Their souls were simple, different than anything else she’d encountered. Even the tiniest of insects had more to their souls than sprites, and yet these tiny creatures that were barely more than a fuzzy wisp of light packed more oomph than most humans.

  They just managed to have a lot of power without any substance to back it up.

  The humming in Veruca’s brain intensified, concerning her for a few seconds before words echoed through her head as if they were her own thoughts.

  Follow, watch step.

  “What was that?” Finn asked, looking around. “Did you hear … did I hear something?”

  “It’s the sprite,” Veruca said, following the creature as it meandered in the direction of the far off lights. The other sprites that had been trailing it switched directions as well, hovering like dust motes ahead of it.

  “What?” Finn asked, turning to meet Veruca’s eyes and then abruptly jerking to the side. “What was—where—what?”

  “Sprites,” Veruca repeated, pulling on Finn’s sweaty hand. “You can only see them if you look sideways at them. They’re fae.”

  “Are they here to hurt us?”

  “I don’t believe they’re capable of harm,” Veruca said, wondering what it must be like to be someone who couldn’t see the world as she did. Every human with fairy blood experienced the world in their own way, depending on what sort of power they manifested—if they manifested any at all. Some had just enough fae in their lineage for their souls to be more intricate than a regular human, but not enough to be considered fae spawn. Veruca’s parents had fallen in that category, both of them powerless while she’d hit the jackpot.

  Well, she reconsidered, perhaps being trapped in an alternate world while one of your good friends was possibly in danger back home wasn’t exactly akin to winning it big in Vegas. She’d manage, though. She always did.

  The path ahead of them lightened as they went, soft blue light filtering down through what seemed to be a jungle made of living trees and strangely shaped leaves. She could feel other fae crawling through the world around her, slithering in foliage, scurrying through underbrush, creeping between trunks and rocks, watching her and Finn as they followed the cloud of minor fae to an uncertain fate.

  She didn’t figure there was any need to be worried for the creatures that surrounded them, and she wasn’t about to rile Finn by mentioning their presence. Still, she kept her guard up, wanting to be certain she wouldn’t have to resort to fisticuffs should something spring into action and go for her throat.

  One of the sprites weaved to the left suddenly, rose, fell through the air, and then made its way toward Veruca, bumping against her forehead once again, as words sprang up like thoughts.

  Watch the third.

  Unsure how she knew from such a vague warning that she was supposed to make sure not to step on the third stone in the stream they were approaching, Veruca watched the sprite hover away, a smile quirking her lips. The power of soul magic, she thought.

  “Don’t step on the third stone in the river,” Veruca warned Finn, keeping a close eye on her feet as she prepared to cross the shimmering stream.

  “Yeah,” Finn said, awe in his voice. “I got that. How’d I get that?”

  “The sprites,” Veruca said, tossing him a brief smile, before hopping over the third rock and landing lightly on the fourth. They made it across the stream dry and safe, and when Veruca looked back in curiosity, she found the third rock hadn’t been a rock at all, but a strange, eyeless creature that remind her of a mole rat the size of a large terrier. Finn, luckily, didn’t look back to see what they’d narrowly avoided disturbing. He was focused forward, his mouth open, his brows up.

  “Yowza,” he breathed, before half his mouth lifted in a grin. “That’s a lovely sight.”

  Veruca already knew what lay ahead even before she focused her gaze through the curtain of vines that fell, separating them from a clearing ahead. She could feel the dryads, would recognize the touch of their souls anywhere. There were at least half a dozen of them, perhaps a few more just outside of Veruca’s range.

  Other creatures were milling about, many of them things Veruca had never seen in the human world, though once she pushed aside the vines and stepped into the clearing, she knew in an instant why. It would take more glamour than most fae could manage to hide their unique and confusing forms from those who were not supposed to know they existed.

  Finn, naturally, wasn’t focused on the awkward and often limbless creatures lounging about, but on the dryads frolicking around naked. They too could never be considered human, but they were at least shaped enough like women that Finn was eager to ogle them. Veruca couldn’t blame him, enjoying their feminine shapes and enticing movements even as a straight woman.

  “Welcome,” a voice said from far off to the left.

  Veruca turned toward the voice, feeling the touch of another entirely unfamiliar soul. This one had power, enough that the weight of it pressing down on Veruca’s senses was almost painful. The creature, at least in the feel of her presence, making Veruca think of Belial, though her soul felt almost … vicious, which Veruca had never encountered before.

  She was statuesque, tall and broad, reminding Veruca of a dryad in that she looked like she was carved out of a tree. Her flesh was rough, knotty and pale like the bark of an ash tree. Her face was long and lean, her eyes intense, her lips plump and green like moss. Thorns protruded from the whole of her form, some small and barely threatening, the others spearing outward as if trying desperately to do damage to anything nearby. She didn’t bother with clothes, though Veruca couldn’t imagine even the most devoutly religious person finding her form offensive or inappropriate. There was the barest hint toward feminine assets, but the spikes and striation in her skin would prevent any safe copulation, so there was no need for her to cover up.

  Plus, Veruca knew, fae often had quite different views on propriety than humans.

  “Hello,” Veruca said, letting Finn’s hand drop as she stepped closer and held out a hand. The Fairy—and Veruca was reasonably sure this was the first proper, capital-F Fairy she’d ever encountered—smiled, holding out her own hand, palm up.

  “I understand your kind shakes as a greeting, but I must warn against it,” she said, wiggling her fingers to draw attention to the small thorns along her palm.

  Veruca smiled tightly, nodding and pulling her hand back. “I appreciate the warning. Now, am I to assume you’re the one who has my friend held hostage?”

  The creature smiled, delight lighting up her features.

  Chapter Four

  Veruca was reigning in her temper, Finn could tell. He knew the tension in her shoulders, the strain in her voice, and the wary way she held herself when she was unhappy. Finn wasn’t about to second guess her, especially not with Donald in danger, but he didn’t see what was so wrong with the place they’d been brought.

  It was stunning, smelling of moss and mist, and there was a shallow fog in the air that dewed against his skin and felt like velvet. Plus, there were the lovely … things dancing about nearby, repeatedly pulling Finn’s attention away from the person—if she could be called that—who had shown up to welcome them.

  She sounded like a lady, Finn decided, and she had a shapely waist and hips, even if the top half of her was rough and covered in spik
es that prevented any sort of inspection of whether or not she had attractive breasts. He wouldn’t have been interested in her breasts specifically, even if she’d bared them and invited him over, but he was a person after all. It was in his nature to inspect the forms of those around him and decide if he found them attractive or not.

  Though, Finn had a pretty hard time not finding something attractive in those around him. Male, female, human, or … whatever the alluring, nature-formed beings to his right were: Finn liked the look of everyone.

  The creatures twirling and twisting around each other, for instance, were very pleasant to behold. They had feminine bodies in all different shapes, some squat and square, others long and lean, but all appealing. One looked like a rose bush molded around a plus-size mannequin. Dark green skin like stems bent and twisted clung to her curves, with pops of pink, red, and white petals here and there. She had no hair, but the spray of jagged leaves jutting from above where her ears would have been had she been human made her soft features more interesting than any fancy up-do could have.

  The others were equally as attractive and inhuman. Finn had never seen anything like it, and he wished he could have taken a picture or committed the scene to memory with concrete clarity.

  Unfortunately, he’d been in Fairy before and he knew from experience his phone wouldn’t work, no matter how much he shook it and swore.

  The sound of Donald’s name pulled Finn’s attention back to Veruca and the lady they’d evidently been called to meet. Veruca looked fierce, even in her light, late spring sweater and soft grey slacks. She’d pulled her hair up and knotted it so it would stay out of her face and worn sensible flats instead of sexy heels that might have boosted her height.

  She looked small next to the towering fairy woman, but no less intimidating.

  “I am indeed,” the woman said, gesturing behind her as she turned and made her way toward a collection of stones that had either been carved or perhaps created to be a tidy sitting area.