Agent of Enchantment (Dark Fae FBI Book 1) by C.N. Crawford & Alex Rivers

Author:C.N. Crawford & Alex Rivers [Crawford, C.N.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-04-08T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

I fell to my knees, disoriented from the leap. My hands slapped on cobblestones, carpeted with soft, shiny moss. The spaces between them teemed with cowslips and foxglove. Where the hell was I?

Music filtered through the air, soft and ethereal. Wispy tendrils of colors swirled all around me, caressing my skin. As I lifted my head, I blinked in shock. Somehow, I’d come to the open-air hall Roan had shown me through the London Stone.

The space brimmed with figures dressed in thick cloaks tied up tightly at their necks, wool the color of snow and honey, berries and moss. No one seemed human. In fact, many of the people around me had horns, tails, hooves—some even had wings. Hair and eyelashes of sky blue, lavender, and silver. Some radiated strange colored lights, and their skin tones ranged from pure black to a translucent white that shimmered under the twinkling, star-flecked sky.

From my knees, I watched as a man, taller than most, strode through the hall, not far from me. The crowd seemed to part before him. He wore a golden crown on his deep-copper hair, and a gold skull clasp on a blue cloak. Long black claws grew from the ends of his pale fingertips. Instinctively, I did everything I could to avoid his gaze, sinking lower to the floor. Was he the king? Gracefully, he turned again, gliding into the crowd. Around him, the fae stiffened as he walked past.

I swallowed hard. I needed backup, if that was possible. Still on my knees, I reached for my quilted bag, rummaging around for the cell phone. I pulled it out, staring at the screen. No reception. I shoved it back in my bag again.

I had two options here. I could either leave quickly and try to find my way back to London, knowing I was outnumbered by hundreds of potential monsters. Or I could stay for a few minutes, hoping to get a glimpse of the unsub who’d been terrorizing London.

Slowly, I rose, mentally repeating my mantra. Be courteous, and be prepared to kill everyone you meet.

I surveyed the room, scanning the party guests. They stood in pairs, their bodies oddly restrained and tense under their cloaks. The women mostly wore their hair loose, flowers and seashells threaded through their tresses. The men stood tall and broad, oozing self-confidence and power. Everyone wore delicate, glimmering masks that hid the top half of their faces, only their eyes shining through.

Rows of guards stood along the walls, swords slung by their sides. They wore platinum and blue tunics with a strange heraldic emblem on the front: a skull submerged under water—the same symbol I’d seen in Leroy’s bar. Same as Gemma’s tattoo.

Above me, golden rib-vaults arched beneath the starry sky like a glittering ruin. The beauty of it all stole my breath.

And that’s when heads began turning to me. A winged couple nearby stared at me, murmuring with surprise.

A stunning, black-haired woman prowled toward me. “A three-born.” Her midnight cloak draped over her body.

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