The Shadow Project Page 2

  "It's a long story, but one was involved in Rhys' mutilation."

  "Ah. I'm afraid I can't do anything about him being here. As I said, he's our investigator. You don't want regular humans mucking about, do you?"

  Sir Raleigh chose that point to make an appearance on my shoulder with an irked "mew!"

  Gabriel turned away and coughed. Or at least that's what he tried to do. I caught his laugh.

  "New friend? Or new hair decoration?"

  I swear, every time that kitten appeared, he somehow got tangled in my hair. As I yet again disengaged his little claws from my white curls, the almost-stripes on Raleigh's face made him look amused. I caught the same look on Max's face. Garou wore his customary scowl, and he fiddled with an unlit cigarette.

  "Don't you dare light that thing around here," I warned, perhaps more harshly than necessary, but I couldn't bear to be laughed at. Never mind that he was the only one—besides me—not laughing.

  "You look good with a kitten," Max told me. He walked over and held out a hand. Instead of shaking it, I handed the kitten to him.

  "Here, please watch him. Careful—he likes to—" Sir Raleigh disappeared from Max's hands and reappeared on my other shoulder with an indignant squeak. "All right, then, insolent creature." Rather than pulling him from my curls, I left him. He wrapped his little tail around my neck and started a subtle but content rumbling.

  "Where did he come from?" Max asked.

  "Veronica." A movement caught my peripheral vision, and I looked over to see that Garou had dropped his cigarette when I mentioned the witch. Interesting.

  "Oh, from the mother cat and litter she found. Abby has been bugging us for a kitten ever since she heard. She says there's something magical about them."

  "She's not wrong." As we all did, I kept a close eye on Max's daughter Abby. Although barely over a year old, she'd shown intelligence far beyond her age. An old soul, that one, and likely to be powerful.

  Max shot me a nervous glance, his expression remorseful.

  "Don't worry. I'm not in the child-snatching game anymore."

  Gabriel cleared his throat. "While all this talk of kittens and children is fascinating, you called me over for a reason."

  "Yes, you. Although Max is always welcome."

  "We were having lunch," Max explained. "What happened?"

  I told them about returning home and finding the office a mess. That I'd felt something, or thought I had, but I couldn't explain what. I left out that the creature was unknown to me and disturbed me more than I could say.

  "So there's an invisible intruder?" Garou spoke for the first time. At the sound of his voice, Raleigh stopped purring. I didn't blame him.

  "There was."

  "Right, then," Gabriel said. "Let's take a look around. Was anything stolen?"

  "Not that I can tell, but I haven't looked thoroughly."

  The men went inside. I hung back. My cottage looked the same as it always had—a typical "fairy cottage" prototype with its gray brick walls and Flemish tile roof, plenty of plants, cute cutout windows with green wooden shutters... But it didn't feel like home. Not anymore.

  Not that it ever should have.

  In my long life, I'd learned to trust my instincts. Something was very, very wrong. Without thinking, I reached up to pet the cat. He began to purr, a sound that should have been soothing but didn't do much to calm my nerves.

  "Can't find anything," Gabriel told me when they came out. "No signs of forced entry."

  "And your wards are strong," Max added. "Nothing should have gotten past them unless you invited it in."

  I took a breath to say I didn't invite anything in, but Garou cleared his throat and interrupted me.

  "Are you sure you felt something?" he asked, his eyes narrow and suspicious.

  I looked at the three of them and kept my mouth from falling open in undignified amazement. Then heat came to my cheeks—they didn't believe me. Well, Max might. He looked uncomfortable. But what had happened with Gabriel? I'd helped him, for Fae's sake.

  "I know what I felt," I said. "There was something in there."

  "There are lots of strange things in the woods," Gabriel observed. "Maybe you should move closer into town."

  "The last thing I need is to be surrounded by people." I made sure to intone the word, people, with enough disgust that, paired with a pointed look at Garou, he'd get the hint.

  Gabriel rubbed one temple. Right, he got migraines. Was he fighting one now? Could that be at the root of his less than jovial mood? When he spoke, he sounded defeated. "If something managed to find you and got past your wards and ransacked your office, then it's going to be too powerful for us. We can't protect you."

  That made me sputter. "You protect me? Did you forget that I helped you with the murders at the ILR? Hades, Gabriel, I'm not asking you to…" I shook my head. Why had I asked them to come over? Because I'd hoped they would have a simple explanation, perhaps some being the activities at the ILR had attracted, something we could do a spell for and get rid of easily. But nothing with humans was ever easy. "Never mind. I'll handle it myself."

  "Sorry we couldn't be of more help," Garou said, but I refused to thank him. He still sounded too doubtful of my story, and I wouldn’t be treated like a hysterical woman. He and Gabriel moved toward the cars, but Max held back.

  "Be careful," he said. "I can't tell you too much, but there are things happening. Big things."

  "Like what?" I asked.

  "Can't say right now. Just…be careful, as I said." He squeezed my upper arm, a rare gesture for him that brought me back to the days when we'd been students together. He turned and left.

  I walked back into my cottage and leaned against the door until the rumble of the car engines faded, to be replaced by a fluttering noise.

  2

  I ran to the office. The little waxwing I'd been coaxing earlier lay on the desk, barely breathing. I cradled the tiny yellow and gray creature in my hands.

  "Where did you come from?" I asked. And what had happened to it? It felt like something had drained its life energy.

  A feline chirp reminded me of Sir Raleigh on my shoulder, and I felt that he studied the bird out of curiosity, not a predatory instinct. He'd stopped purring, and I'd forgotten he was there. Well, as long as he didn't try to hurt the bird, I would allow him to stay.

  I willed healing energy into the waxwing until its breathing and heartbeat returned to normal. After I placed it on the desk, it wobbled to its feet, then flew back to its bush, where it trilled a thank-you. I wished I could ask it what had caused its malady, but birds and Fae didn't share much vocabulary. A glowing wisp connected the bird to my window for a second, then faded. I shivered. That had been a warning from one of my wards marking an intruder. It should have glowed stronger and lasted longer if the bird had entered my house without invitation, but it hadn't—I'd left food for it. None of this made sense.

  What in Hades had been in my house? Bird crisis averted, anger blazed through me. I took some deep breaths to calm it down, but found fear underneath. What had been in here that a Fae, a wizard, and an alpha werewolf couldn't detect a trace of? And a gargoyle-descended human, but I dismissed Garou. He'd never impressed me.

  Then I found the familiar sting of betrayal and disappointment. Why hadn't I moved closer into town? Well, besides the modern noises, smells, and other things my five-hundred-year-old nervous system couldn't take, it would mean neighbors and conversations and the chance of slipping into the mistake of trusting people. That never ended well.

  So I'd manage on my own. As usual. Or, not quite on my own…

  "Well, it's just you and me, kitty." With the cat still on my shoulder, I smudged every room, closet, and the basement with a bundle of dried herbs Veronica had made for me "just in case." Then I strengthened my wards, but until I could figure out what the bird had to do with the intruder, I'd have to keep my windows closed. It was probably for the best, considering the cat.

  Did I think t
he bird could be some sort of shifter? Its size argued against the possibility. While the magic of shapeshifting could stretch the conservation of mass to a point, that would have been extreme.

  Sir Raleigh hadn't disappeared again, and I hoped he wouldn't get into too much trouble when I let him loose in the house. While I'd never had a pet before, his presence relieved me. Normally Fae and cats didn't get along—they could see us even when we concealed ourselves, and they took a perverse joy in hunting our smaller cousins like pixies—but he could likely also sense creatures such as whatever the intruder had been. A tingle up my spine told me that the cat coming into my life the same day the mysterious being invaded my house had likely not been a coincidence, but I couldn't see the connection.

  Once done with the smudging, I peeled the kitten from my neck and set him on the floor. He immediately started to explore, his little, gray nose working. I set up the supplies Veronica had sent me with—litter box, food, and a couple of small blue ceramic bowls. Once satisfied Sir Raleigh wouldn't get into trouble, I went into my office and commenced cleaning, more to have something to do to settle my nerves than anything.

  Nothing seemed to be missing, and the hidden door under the desk called to me.

  "I'm not calling her," I said. But every little noise startled me now, and Gabriel's words about the powerful intruder echoed in my brain. Fear had been an unfamiliar emotion, and its shaky presence didn't suit me at all.

  It had been almost four hundred years, dammit. I deserved to go home where it was safe. But I couldn't beg.

  Or could I? They couldn't deny my entrance back to Faerie if I wasn't safe here, could they?

  A small spark of hope lit up the gloomy cavern of my thoughts. They'd have to let me return.

  When I checked on the kitten once more—more to ensure he didn't sense anything scary—I found him asleep on the middle of the kitchen table in a sunbeam. How had he gotten up there? He was too little to jump. Right, he had likely teleported.

  I had a teleporting cat. Had borrowed one, rather. He might be going back to Veronica sooner than either of us had anticipated.

  Between the smudging and an extra layer of wards, whatever had ransacked my office shouldn't return. It was time to check on my secret treasure. And there was one person who might know what the creature had been…

  I went to the desk, moved the chair back, and pulled back a section of the rug under where my feet would normally go if I'd been sitting. When I whispered the key word, a stone set in the floor elevated and slid out of the way, revealing a hidden compartment from which I brought forth a wooden box. I smoothed the lid with my hand. The contents shifted inside although I hadn't tilted the box, and a tug at the base of my skull told me it had been too long. When I opened the lid, the crystal and jewel talisman inside glowed so brightly the light sparkled through all the gems—ruby for the sunrise in the east and fire, sapphire for the sky and water, amethyst for sunset in the west and air, and emerald for growth and earth. Golden bands affixed them to a six-inch length of pure crystal, which shone. That could only mean one thing.

  I'd thought I would be requesting an audience with my mother, but as it turned out, she was summoning me.

  Returning to the fairy circle always hurt. In spite of the beauty of the place—inside a cave with a carpet of green grass year-round and a singing waterfall in the corner—the bad memories crowded in. Mother pronouncing Rhys' inability to return to Faerie because of the imperfection his injury had caused. My banishment for not preventing his stupid actions. Her turning a cold, pointed ear to my pleas.

  Humans called the passages we made between Earth and Faerie portals, but we called them doorways. Although I hadn't been able to use my ability to enter in years, I still tried—a reflexive internal gesture of opening the air to walk through. Today, as always, the doorway remained locked.

  "You'll never stop trying, will you?" Mother's voice vibrated through the air around me.

  I stepped back to allow her room to come through. "Never. My rightful place is there, in Faerie. You can't hold me responsible for Rhys' mistake forever." I hadn't come intending to rehash the old argument, but the events of the day had taken their toll. Now that I no longer felt safe in my home, I wanted—needed—to return to Faerie more than ever. Still, I'd hoped to be more elegant in my petition.

  Mother appeared, wearing a gown of green satin, her white-blond hair in an updo. My hair had been the same color as hers when I'd been banished, but it had turned white during my time on Earth. I knew that wouldn't be enough to deem me flawed—many of the older Fae had white hair. At least I'd kept my youthful face and figure, but I wondered how long those would last before I melted like a thin wax candle into a stubby, gnarled shape.

  "I suppose you are wondering why I summoned you here, Daughter."

  Hmmm, no preamble or criticism. She must have really wanted to talk to me. Hope sparked in my chest—could this be it, my absolution and ticket back home?

  "Yes, and I have a question for you as well," I said.

  "In a moment. First, I have news for you. I suspect you'll consider it good."

  "I'm allowed to come home?" The ache for Faerie never went away, as much as it might diminish while I lived in this realm. Earth beauty, as stunning as it could be, didn't compare.

  "Perhaps. Your grandmother has consented to forgive you if you complete a task for her. For us."

  Great, a fairy task. Guaranteed to be difficult, if not impossible. I knew this because I'd given out more than a few in my time. And they always came with an agenda.

  "What is it?" I asked, trying not to allow my misgivings to show.

  "Since you were so helpful in the investigation of the murder at the Institute for Lycanthropic Reversal, the Faerie court has decided to allow you to accompany representatives from the ILR to the Center for Disease Control and Prevention. They will give you the details of what they want to accomplish, something about tracking the spread of lycanthropy and blah, blah." She waved her hand. Typical.

  "Isn't that in the United States?"

  "Correct, a place called Atlanta."

  "But my powers…" Panic welled up in my gut at the thought of leaving my home and the network of caverns beneath it, from which I drew my power. I'd still have some of my magic in a different place, but not as much, and the thought made me feel naked and vulnerable already.

  "You won't need them for the task, don't worry." She smiled, and I wish I could say her expression was maternal, but the word that came to mind was calculating.

  "What is my task, then?"

  "You are to protect our secrets from the scientists there, who are studying paranormal creatures. They know we exist, but not the power that we have. And especially not the elemental nature of our makeup."

  "They know we're elementals, Mother."

  "Right, but not of what kind. Not that we have all five and hold them in balance." She covered her mouth, took a deep breath, and continued in a quieter tone. "And not that we can manipulate them to change the nature of what they call matter. In this age, that is our most dangerous secret. The humans would weaponize it if they could."

  I nodded my agreement to that. The humans would turn the most benign of substances into ways to kill each other if they could. The Fae had considered themselves above that since the last Great War between the Seelie and Unseelie courts, when we'd realized that tipping the balance between light and dark wasn't worth the death and destruction caused by the conflict.

  "So I go, keep our secrets away from a bunch of academics, and then what?"

  "When the investigation you're a part of is over, and all loose ends tied up, you may return to Faerie."

  "All right." No, I needed to hear what she said. The assigner of a Faerie task always left loopholes for themselves. "What sort of loose ends?"

  "Whatever comes up. You've been in this realm long enough to know."

  "It sounds simple enough, although I know it probably isn't." But if Gabriel and Max were part of it, th
ey'd be thorough. I hoped.

  "You sound like a petulant child."

  If I did, it was because she'd made me that way, but I refrained from saying so. Plus, somehow she'd steamrolled me into agreeing to the task before I could express my concerns. Dammit, she always did that to me. Finally I remembered to ask, "Do you know of a creature that can turn itself completely invisible yet maintain enough form to move objects around?"

  "You mean a ghost?"

  "It wasn't a ghost. I would have been able to identify that. It was a…" I hoped the word would come, but it didn't. "I don't know. But not a ghost. It didn't have that feeling of being dead. But not alive, either."

  "You're not making sense, Daughter."

  "Whatever it was, it was dangerous," I told her. "I don't feel safe here."

  With a blast of cold air that stirred my hair, a now-familiar sensation started on my shoulder, of kneading and a rumbling purr. Oh, not now… But it gave me important information about my little friend—he shouldn't have been able to find me in the fairy circle.

  "What in Hades is that?" My mother's tone combined revulsion and curiosity.

  "Mother, meet Sir Raleigh." I again extracted the cat from my hair, but I didn't hold him out to my mother. The little creature made me feel more protective of it than I had of anything before, even my brother. I knew she'd try to take him away from me if she suspected I valued him.

  "May I see him?"

  "No. It's a kitten. There's nothing special about him." Well, other than the teleportation thing.

  "That's not an ordinary kitten," she said. "Where did you get him?"

  "He found me." It wasn't a lie.

  "Yes, I'm sure he did."

  I raised my eyebrows. The woman didn't waste a word, and this was the second time tonight her tongue had tripped ahead of her. I could tell from the rueful expression that flashed across her stonily beautiful face.

  "Do you know something about him I don't?" I had to ask.

  "I don't know, dear daughter, considering you haven't told me anything about him, so I don't know what you know, and you won't let me touch him."