Fixing Fae Problems Read online

  Once the artifacts were out, I noticed the chest was deeper than this first layer of compartments. With some careful rattling, 1 managed to lift the top layer of wood to discover a second level of compartments underneath.

  These were bigger, separating the space into four sections. Each one held a different-sized Eye cradled in a velvety pillow.

  “Hot damn,” I whispered. Four carved, colorless pupils moved to stare at me. One blinked with a white, leathery layer of it-better- not-be-skin, much like the Eye-dagger.

  I dropped the upper layer back into place. Okay, I would deal with that later.

  Returning my attention to the artifacts, I did my best to unwrap

  them without touching them too much. No snaps cracked the air, no

  signs that any spell trap had been triggered. | let out a breath of relief and studied the items.

  I’d like to say I had an amazing a-ha! realization, but, just like with the vault’s artifacts, I] had absolutely no clue of what any of them could do, never mind which of them had anything to do with making Fae in exchange for souls.

  My gaze drifted to the dead Fae. Was she the badass Fae Aidan had told me about? The master at creating artifacts? Fae weren’t supposed to be entombed with riches, and yet here we were. At the very least she must’ve been a Fae Lord.

  Another chest stood under the opposite wall’s niche. It was smaller than this one, and when I opened it, I learned it contained another handful of artifacts and one more Eye.

  “Eyes are rare, little donut,” I said, mimicking Ren’s voice. I snorted. “Yeah, right.”

  Apparently, they were rare because they were all in this Fae’s tomb,

  who was most definitely the great artifact creator of legends.

  I stood by her side again. “Did you get into making Eyes trying to figure out how to make the Fae-maker work? Or was that someone else and you were simply a collector?” I asked softly. There was no accompanying slab for her lover, so either she hadn’t managed to finish her work before they died of old age, or they were in some other tomb because some couples needed alone time even in death.

  Or maybe she wasn’t that Fae at all and had simply decided to en-tomb herself with her artifact collection out of spite so nobody else could use it.

  I glanced from one line of artifacts to the other.

  “Greenie?” I asked, calling on my magic. “Wanna come help a dumb hooman?”

  A hesitant whine drifted from the entrance of the tomb. I went to the tunnel, unwilling to leave the room completely and get somehow

  locked out, and extended my hand invitingly. In the light on the other

  side of the corridor stood Greenie, paws crushing the ground leaves in restless motions. “C’mon, boy, come help Maddie.”

  Greenie took a tentative step forward. When nothing horrible happened, he squeezed his huge form into the narrow tunnel and plowed forward.

  Perhaps Fae in their death gave their surroundings a bad vibe to other Fae creatures.

  Once inside the room, Greenie glanced at the dais then gave me a worried look.

  I scratched behind his ears. “It’s okay, Greenie. She’s dead. She can’t hurt us.” I hope. I gestured toward the artifacts outside the chests. “Now, be a good boy and tell me which smells like the soulless Fae stone.” | punctuated the words with a small burst of magic and a men-tal image of the remains of Sullivan’s soulless Fae.

  Greenie moved slowly toward the bigger chest. He sniffed each artifact, then poked one with his muzzle.

  “You’re the best,” I told him excitedly, hugging his neck.

  He huffed in contentment but lost no time in getting the hell out of the tomb, almost dragging me along.

  Yup, definitely some very bad Fae vibes going on in this place. Yay for being only one-sixteenth Fae with the magic sensitivity ofa rock.

  I made short work of returning everything to its corresponding place—or approximate whereabouts—and concentrated on the artifact Greenie had singled out. It was slightly bigger than my palm and didn’t look anything like a heart, more like one half of a yin-yang symbol or a tadpole. The maker hadn’t used a commonly available item but had constructed a whole new thing.

  The thickest part of the round implement was made out of glass containing a pile of tiny loose crystals, red and pink and barely bigger than sand grains. A filigree of designs covered the surface of the glass, made by a solid vine-like wire, although I couldn’t tell what they were—

  if stylized drawings or a language. The curving end had a small leather

  cover, and I wondered if that was because its end was sharp. Sharp enough to dig into someone’s chest right into their heart and give it its name—to tur someone into a Fae, you probably had to mess with their blood.

  My gaze flicked from the size of the thing to my chest. I shuddered. It would take one determined participant to ram that thing right into their hearts. Knowing Fae, they’d probably have to be awake, too.

  I wrapped the artifact with the linen, put it inside my backpack, said my goodbyes to Her Lady of Many Eyes and Artifacts, and returned to the outside. The forest seemed strangely wide and empty in comparison with the room inside.

  “Time to set up a meeting,” I told Greenie.

  Back in the Hub, I used Aidan’s phone to make a fast Internet search.

  Within seconds, I was dialing the Wishing Well. Greenie, having

  decided he had reached his human interaction limit, had disappeared into the wall down in the basement

  “The Wishing Well,” came Kane’s voice.

  “Hi, Kane, it’s me,” I said cheerfully.

  “Maddie?”

  “The one and only. I need a favor—”

  He hung up.

  Dang. Cold. I dialed again.

  The moment the line opened, I said, “You can keep the whole find-er’s fee.”

  A pause. “Does it have something to do with the Institute? Because I heard you guys are in deep shit.”

  “What have you heard?”

  “That your boss got busted selling seized artifacts through the tea store.”

  Damn, Harmon had lost no time getting onto that rumor treadmill.

  “C’mon, Kane, you know better than that.”

  “Okay, that sounded like BS,” Kane agreed. “But we did hear Greaves got detained.”

  “It’s temporary. Someone complained to the MEC, so now they’re doing an investigation.”

  “Tough.”

  “Very. So, about that favor…”

  “I don’t know, Maddie. Every time I help you, something bad happens.”

  “Gotta keep rolling the dice to get that twenty luck.”

  “Your dice only goes up to two.”

  ] refrained from pointing out the impossibility of that. “This is low risk, high reward for you.”

  He snorted. “Taken from the scammer’s notebook.” He said nothing else, so I allowed him a few seconds of mulling the idea. “Are you

  sure this is not going to come back to bite me in the ass?”

  “I only need you to send a message to one of your clients. How dangerous can that be?”

  “Which client?”

  “Sullivan.”

  “After he shafted us?” he asked in outrage.

  “Charge him frst this time.”

  “Good point. Fine. But I think he’s on vacation or something, so he might not see it for a while.”

  “Oh, I think he’ll make an appearance for this. Text me on this number so I can give you the information—I don’t have my phone on me, so don’t use that one.”

  “You better not be messing with me, Maddie.”

  “I’d never,” I said. “Remember, charge him first.”

  “Oh, I will,” Kane said with promise in his voice.

  “But Kane,” I added sternly, “do not approach anyone else with this

  offer. | mean it.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Don’t worry, I can keep things private.”

  I had m
y doubts but chose to trust him, mostly because I didn’t have any other choice. The call ended, and soon thereafter the phone vibrated with Kane’s text. Aidan was definitely going to need a new secret phone after this.

  I gave Kane the name of the Fae-maker and settled in to wait.

  It took about three seconds for Kane to text, Are you for real?

  Sure am, I texted. Remember, only Sullivan.

  Dude, we can get so much for this if we go to auction. I know how to set it up anonymously.

  I glowered at the phone so hard, I was surprised it didn’t automat-ically evaporate. Kane, I swear to God I’ll wipe all your game accounts.

  Fine. Just Sullivan. Can we auction if he doesn’t answer in a few days?

  Sure. If this was a lesser-made phone, my fingers would’ve probably left dents on the screen.

  I gave whoever was sharing Sullivan’s account about thirty minutes

  to answer Kane.

  They did it in twenty.

  Sullivan wants proof.

  Already prepared for this, I forwarded him a description of the artifact. As long as the artifact was inactive, I could’ve taken photos of it, but I wasn’t willing to leave images of the thing out in the world. An artifact this important—the fewer people who knew about it, the better.

  I’d hoped Sullivan’s partner would know a bit about it during their search, read some descriptions somewhere. To make my claim tastier, I also told Kane to tell “Sullivan” that I was a member of the Institute.

  I got lucky, because no further proof was required of me. With the Heart’s Will not actually looking like a heart, I guessed it’d be easy to spot the obvious fakes. I told Kane where and when to set up the meet ing, and what I wanted for payment—Aidan clear of all suspicion and back as director. Once that was done, all I had to do was prepare.

  And wait

  My choice of meeting place was five rooms down from my favorite basement office. Two reasons drove me to make this choice: immediate access to Greenie, and it was the first door in the vicinity not locked.

  Going any farther into the maze of the Bowels of Hell would only bring trouble to all involved.

  The room was spacious and empty, not a piece of furniture in it, so I dragged the chair from the other office to sit and wait.

  Besides, chairs made for good defense if Sullivan’s partner decided to unleash some Eldritch Fae horror on me.

  I threaded the backpack’s straps on the chair’s back and set out to wait

  At the agreed time, someone knocked and tumed the knob. | tensed, stood, watched the door open slowly.

  And what do you know, it was my other ex-boss.

  Proctor of Proctor & Sullivan Accounting Services.

  For a moment, I was so dumbfounded at the obviousness of it all I

  could only gape as the woman entered the room and closed the door behind her.

  17

  “Dover, I imagine?” she asked politely. Her voice was strong, unhurried, and devoid of any wariness or fear.

  The combination had a Beware, Baddie is too calm not to have ten aces shoved up her sleeve warning all over it, but I was still too astounded by the revelation of her identity for my brain to fully function. I nodded.

  She was wearing a nice office outht composed of a blouse and skirt. Her elegant pumps clacked against the floor as she walked to the center of the room and took out a piece of parchment.

  Sull silent, I watched her crouch and press it against the floor. Gold-en lettering flashed on the surface of the parchment and then spread across the floor like a golden spiderweb, all the way to the walls.

  ] jumped into an empty space between the lines, finally shaken out of my shock. “What’s that?”

  The golden lines faded. Proctor straightened and carefully folded the

  parchment before returning it to her pocket. “A spell to make sure we’re

  alone, and nobody’s listening.”

  Smart. “What’s the tradeoff?”

  Proctor smiled faintly. “One I’m willing to sacrifice.”

  Ah, well, I’d ask Lockhart later. “And did it work?”

  “IT am content with the results.” Her gaze fell on the backpack. “Now, I hope you brought the Heart and aren’t going to pull an ‘it’s somewhere else’ kind of thing. Those are so annoying.”

  “Have had much practice, huh?” I asked dryly.

  She lifted a shoulder. “Black market dealers are a suspicious group.”

  We stood a few paces away, studying each other. When I didn’t move toward the backpack, she added, “You understand I’ll need to see it before we go any further, right?”

  “Man,” I said thoughtfully, “must’ve pissed you off when Sullivan lost the Eye to the Institute. Lost the Eye and wasted the soulless Fae.”

  Proctor pursed her lips. “He was a complete buffoon.”

  Daaamn. “But useful, right? Did you share the artifacts, or did he

  keep them all in his collection and let you visit?”

  She looked at me in a way that said since she wasn’t a complete buffoon, she wouldn’t fall for my needling attempts. Which, fair. They weren’t very good, anyway.

  “I’m only interested in certain pieces,” she said. “Sullivan can spend his money as he sees fit. Or should I say, as he saw fit? He’s dead, isn’t he?”

  It was my time to give her a cmon now look. “You must’ve guessed already.”

  “Ah…” Wistfulness filled the word, as if she was sorry she had missed the chance to off him herself.

  “That’s okay,” I said encouragingly. “It’s not like you’ll need him anymore after this, right? I mean, you got what you wanted.”

  She acknowledged this truth with a curt nod. “True. After today, af fairs of the part-Fae will no longer matter.”

  “How do I know you can restore Greaves as the Institute’s director?”

  “l have kept records of certain conversations I will forward to the Council. It will clear Greaves of all wrongdoing.”

  It sounded so simple, and she said it with so much certainty, that I almost wanted to believe she intended me to survive this artifact ex change. “Was it you or was it Sullivan who started that whole ‘bad luck’ campaign on the Institute?”

  She huffed. “Sullivan. I’ve never seen someone hate the Institute so much. He was going to weaken Greaves’s position, then strike when the time was right.”

  “So, you just took over his plan when we took the Eye?” A note of respect entered my voice. “Devilish. He did the groundwork, you took the glory. Harmon doesn’t even know he’s dealing with you instead of Sullivan, does he?”

  “Of course not.”

  “What did Sullivan offer him to help?”

  “Harmon has hated Greaves since the start. He believes we—you,

  soon,” she interjected with relish, “should hold on to as many artifacts as possible, in case the Fae get bored and decide to strike down human-ity”

  “The Fae have no interest in that,” I said, surprised at that line of thought.

  “And you’ve met how many?” she asked dismissively. “Harmon is not wrong, you know. Those artifacts should be kept in good hands, not taken away and destroyed.”

  “Somehow, I don’t think rich people’s private collections are ‘good hands,” I retorted dryly.

  “Rich people are the most interested in keeping the status quo.”

  “True,” I conceded. “And Harmon went along with the plan with no payment?”

  “There’s always a payment,” Proctor said. “Of morals, in this case, I suppose. Although Sullivan did donate some artifacts to his cause.” She

  smiled slyly. “Unregistered, of course.”

  “Of course.”

  “It’s all in the documents. Don’t worry, by the time his fellow coun-cilmen finish reading the first page, he’ll be skipping town, believe me.”

  She spoke so assuredly it was hard not to. “What are you going to do with Sullivan’s collection?”


  “It’s not my problem. Now, where’s the artifact?”

  “Those documents…”

  She produced her phone and shook it slightly. “In here. Email ready to be sent.”

  “May I?” I asked.

  Proctor unlocked her phone, swiped a couple of times, and showed me the screen. It was an email with a bunch of attachments and links to other files.

  At my nod, she put the phone away. “The artifact?”

  I toed the floor. “Weeell…”

  “What?” she snapped.

  I gave her my best smile. “It’s somewhere else.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t believe you.”

  “I’m new to these kinds of deals, but it didn’t seem smart to bring it along.”

  The overhead light began to dim. “You will not leave this room until you tell me where it is.”

  “Hey,” I said, holding up my hands. The lights dimmed further, and a familiar shiver ran down my back. “I’m not trying to scam you. I just need to make sure you do your part of the deal.”

  “Well,” she said thoughtfully, completely unaffected by the darkness creeping into the room, “I can’t guarantee anything if I can’t see the artifact to determine its authenticity, can I?”

  When the black vines began to spread from under the door, I] had to

  force myself not to take a step back. It wasn’t like the last time, I reminded myself, wiping my sweaty palms on my jeans. I wasn’t

  powerless.

  Proctor walked casually to the door and threw it open. The hallway outside was fully dark, and by the time Proctor had returned to stand in front of me, two red eyes and the rest of a Fae hound were slowly encroaching into the room.

  I swallowed hard, unable to look away. It was the same hound that had attacked us the day we had found Greenie’s Eye. Unlike Greenie, its skin was made of inky blackness, smooth and so thin every muscle underneath was on display. My heart hitched and began pounding furi-ously with the need to rum away. Run away like we had that day, lost in the maze of this basement with no exit in sight.

  And then the hound looked at something behind me and let out a low growl.

  The lights overhead regained some of their brilliance. A familiar awareness coursed through me, soothing the itch to move in my muscles, calming my heartbeat, clearing the fog of horror and impotence.