The Thief's Talisman: The Complete Series

MORTAL HEIR

MORTAL HEIR

Raine Warren, half-faerie changeling and master thief, wants nothing to do with the family who abandoned her in the human realm as a child. But when Faerie comes knocking, claiming she’s descended from Sidhe nobility, she’s handed an unexpected legacy. One catch: it comes in the form of a sceptre containing dark power coveted—and feared—by every faerie court, and no instruction manual.

Now her name’s on every hit list in Faerie, and the other Sidhe will do anything to take her off the playing field… permanently. Her last hope is to strike a deal with a charming thief with his own agenda and his own plans for the sceptre. On the run from assassins and hunted by the most powerful faeries in both realms, embracing the dangerous magic of Faerie might be Raine’s only means of survival.

1

With feet lighter than a human’s could ever be, I crept down the corridor, following the enticing scent. Like a kid raiding their parents’ liquor cabinet in the middle of the night. Except I’d never had a childhood like that, and if I got caught, I’d face a more severe punishment than being grounded.

But I never got caught. Good thieves don’t.

If I had the ability, I’d have used a glamour to make myself invisible. But my weak faerie blood wasn’t strong enough even to make my pointed ears look like human ones, so I had to rely on keeping as quiet as possible. My feet barely made a sound, trained to avoid creaky floorboards and noisy steps, to tread gracefully and not leave an impact. This was a human establishment, so they’d never know I was here. I’d slip in and out like a ghost. A handkerchief wrapped around my head covered my bone-white hair. I had a number of handkerchiefs, but I saved the rose gold one for special occasions. It was my birthday in less than an hour, and that counted as a special occasion in my book.

I paused as I found what I was looking for—a chocolate cake, fresh, icing dripping onto the work surface. I stuck my finger in the icing and licked it, tasting the sweetness on my tongue. Apparently such things used to be commonplace before the rationing kicked in after the war with Faerie. Now luxuries were only for the elite. I’d spent weeks packaging them for rich humans when I’d worked here. Before the ‘incident’.

Finders, keepers. I closed the box carefully to make sure the icing didn’t leak out. Slipping the box inside my coat—a thick fur-lined winter one I’d swiped from a clearance sale in the local market—I retraced my steps to the window.

Climbing out was my favourite part. It was also the riskiest. My feet fit carefully onto the windowsill, and I hung on with one hand, the other keeping the box from falling out of my coat. I shimmied across the sill to the drainpipe, and began the three-floor climb one handed. Maybe a particularly athletic human could do this, but not as easily as breathing like it was for me. Faeries were typically built like dancers, or athletes, and could move infinitely more gracefully. Even in a thick coat concealing a birthday cake. If not for my cumbersome load, I’d have thrown in some acrobatics. As it was, when my feet touched the ground, I turned to face the shop and gave it a rude gesture. I’d lost my job here after a particularly vindictive human colleague had decided to put pieces of iron in my pockets as a prank, and then laughed when the shards burned my hands to blisters. I’d had no magic to curse the bastard, so I’d punched him in the nose and got myself fired. Stealing a cake was a petty form of revenge, but a delicious one.

The cold breeze did its best to tear my handkerchief loose so I held it down with my free hand, lowering my gaze to hide my too-bright blue eyes, which marked me as part of a Court I’d never set foot in. I picked up speed, heading for my least favourite part of the walk home. The contraband in my pocket sat heavily and the first drops of rain had begun to fall.

Noises followed me as I walked alongside the hedge bordering half-blood territory, shrieks and growls and whispers from the beasts in the forests that had once been small patches of woodland and had now grown to cover a huge section of the city. It was pretty much a replica of the Summer and Winter Courts, minus half the magic and with a few added rules like don’t kill anyone, half-bloods and humans included. Such rules didn’t apply in Faerie—one of many reasons I thought staying here was the better option for everyone. I didn’t quite get how the faeries had ended up invading this realm in the first place, but they were here to stay, and so were we.

As I prepared to pass by the gate, a horse rode out into the road, bearing a tall elven knight. At first, I thought it was one of those half-blood guards who liked to play dress-up as nobles. Then I saw the insignia on the banner.

This was a legit, pure-blooded faerie from the Winter Court itself.

I kept very still. I wouldn’t get into trouble for stealing, but pure faeries are well-known for being cruel and capricious, and they show us no more respect than they do regular humans. I held my breath as the horse halted, and a second rider came out through the gate. Then another. What was the Winter Court’s messenger patrol doing here of all places? There might be more travel between here and Faerie than there used to be, but it was an unusual occasion that required true Sidhe to show up. Something big was happening. Unfortunately, it was between me and my way home.

The knights turned as one, and vanished in a dazzling flash of white-blue light.

The surge of Winter magic lifted the hairs on my arms. I didn’t really feel the cold—the coat was to hide my spoils—but a full-on shiver broke out all over my skin. I’d just watched them walk into the Unseelie lands that overlapped with this part of the mortal realm. I hadn’t seen so much as a glimpse of the world behind the white flash, but some traitorous part of me couldn’t help imagining all the same. It wasn’t much help, though—only pure-blooded Sidhe had the ability to cross between realms, not that they’d really used it in the past. Aside from when they decided to come here and steal a human away for fun.

I waited sixty seconds for more knights to appear. Then I started walking again. I’d left Dad for long enough already, and if he’d seen that flash of light, he might have thought it was her. Or that I’d left for the Court. That was his new obsession these days, and the reason I didn’t like sneaking out at night as much. He thought I was like the other half-bloods, and wanted to go back to Faerie.

Absolutely no chance of that, I’d informed him the last time he’d asked. I’d be lucky to last five minutes there, considering the pure faeries don’t think much of mortals.

He flinched. Don’t say that. You’re not one of them.

Don’t worry about me, I’d told him. They don’t have any claim on me.

Famous last words, Raine. On that cold night, I had zero desire to follow the knights, but I didn’t know any half-faerie who hadn’t fantasised about being picked up by the Court. It was our version of a faerie tale, if you ignored the Sidhe’s murderous tendencies and their hatred of anyone who wasn’t a heartless immortal. Really, I was lucky to escape them, and so was Dad. If I ever met the faerie who kidnapped him, I’d punch her in the nose. Which would be kind of awkward, considering she was my mother.

Family drama. Half-faeries have that in spades. Those of us who are lucky enough to still have a family, that is. Often, when the faeries steal someone, they have no intention of giving them back in one piece. But for whatever reason, my mother had decided to leave my father right where she’d taken him, minus a few memories, and with an added bonus. Me.

The tension in my chest loosened as I reached the front door to our flat, on the ground floor of a run-down house converted into apartments. Not much of a home, but enough for the two of us. I sang under my breath as I unlocked the door.

Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me…

Happy birthday, Raine.

I jumped. Denzel, half-satyr and the closest to a friend I had, stood beside me. He must have silently followed me to the door. Fur covered his legs up to his waist, and instead of feet, he stood lightly on twin hooves.

Don’t sneak up on me, Denzel.

I came to wish you many happy returns.

You’re spending too much time around humans. Birthdays are nothing to celebrate.

I beg to differ. He reached past me and pushed the door open.

What are you doing? Dad’s asleep.

I won’t wake him.

Rolling my eyes, I let him into the flat. Denzel was okay. All right, he was shifty as hell and made me look like a saint by comparison, but he protected his friends, and I fell into that category.

What do you want?

His face fell. Am I that obvious?

Yes.

His mouth twisted. All right. So I’m in a bit of trouble…

Why am I not surprised.

With the mages, he went on. Apparently selling amulets is a serious crime. Even if they’re genuine elf-forged ones.

If they’re genuine, I’m a leprechaun.

I pulled the cake box out of my coat and set it on the coffee table, then retrieved a bottle of wine from the sideboard. Want some?

"Where’d you get that?"

Hen do. I flashed him a smile. Nobody noticed when one of the bottles wandered off of its own accord.

You’re a terrible person.

They’re rich humans. They won’t miss it.

I’d prefer elf wine, but you take what you can get.

Damn straight. I poured two glasses, keeping one eye on Denzel in case he slipped anything into his pockets. The light-fingered little shit was a thorn in my side, but he wouldn’t call on me in the middle of the night without good reason.

So. He trod from one hoof to the other. I might be in a bit of difficulty. See, I… sort of took out a loan from the Crusher.

I choked on the wine. You what?

The Crusher was a half-troll with just enough human blood to know how to string a sentence together, and just enough troll blood to be able to flatten a person with one step. Nobody in their right mind crossed him. Though Denzel wasn’t what you’d call all there. I fought the urge to groan. I’d sworn not to get dragged into any of his dodgy dealings again.

That’s why I need something to sell.

You know most of the stuff I steal is worthless, right?

Honestly, I have no idea where my magpie-like habits come from. It’s not helpful. Fake gold doesn’t pay bills. But I know what does.

I sighed and handed him a coin. Not a human one, but a faerie antique I’d swiped from a visiting contingent from Summer’s Court who’d nearly trampled me with their horses.

"Hey—hey. Is that…?"

It’s worth more than my life. Don’t lose it.

You’re a lifesaver.

You’re a liability.

Love you too. He blew me a kiss and drank the wine in one go. I should probably leave. The Crusher wants to see me in the morning.

Good luck. Try not to get trodden on.

He clip-clopped out the flat.

Shaking my head, I put the wine away. Hopefully Denzel would manage to keep his head. Literally. The Crusher, of all people. And I thought I had a penchant for getting into trouble. It was a miracle I’d made it to my twenty-fourth birthday. Tomorrow would be… trying. Dad always acted weird on my birthday. I figured it was to do with losing his memory of the day I was born. When mortals fell into the hands of a faerie, they often lost their memories and most of their sanity, forever dreaming of a world they’d never see again. I didn’t remember any of the years I spent in Faerie at all. Maybe they wiped my mind, too, or maybe the memories faded with age.

It’ll be okay. You have the cake, anyway. I yawned, tugging off my boots.

There was a knock at the door.

I frowned. Denzel didn’t usually knock. He just walked in.

Knock. Knock.

All right. I was kind of pissed off by now. If Dad woke up, I’d have to deal with the fallout. Who’d come here in the middle of the night, anyway?

Did someone see me stealing the cake? No—impossible. I’d been careful not to be spotted.

The image of those Winter knights flashed through my head again and a chill raced down my back. Drama was going down in half-blood land…

Who is it? I hissed through the door. It’s nearly one in the bloody morning.

Raine, whispered a male voice. It’s me.

It’d been a while since I’d fallen off a roof, but the impact of hearing his voice was pretty close to the sensation. My stomach dropped, my heart sinking as though I’d missed a step on a high staircase. I hadn’t heard that voice in a long time.

Go away.

That’s not nice, Raine.

I forced a laugh. You can’t claim the moral high ground, Robin.

I was too angry to be curious as to why my ex—the man who’d started and ended my performance career—was doing here in the first place. I’d never given him my address. Mostly because he hadn’t spoken a word to me since the day he ended our four-year relationship and trounced my career in one fell swoop.

Despite myself, I inched the door open a fraction to make sure it was really him and not an illusion. But anyone with faerie blood can see through glamour, and he wasn’t wearing any. He looked exactly the same as he had three years ago—beautiful in the way only faeries could be. Pointed ears, pale skin, cornflour coloured hair, elegant features forming an expression that almost resembled remorse. If I didn’t know better.

I’m sorry, he said now.

You lost your chance to say sorry. Words are cheap.

You’re speaking like a human. You aren’t.

I might as well be, I shot at him. The closest I’d come to having my own magic was being part of his act, and that was long gone. Nothing was worth being reminded of something I could never have again.

Something I didn’t want again.

Look, can I come in?

"No. You’re a few years too late for an apology. It’s done. We’re done."

That’s not why I came.

Really. I crossed my arms. Well? What’s so important that you had to come all the way here?

There was… a message from the Unseelie Court.

Unseelie. Winter. Those knights.

I edged the door open a little. "Okay. What does that have to do with anything?"

They’re here for us. We can claim our heritage and find out who our fae parent was. Yours… well. You’d be better off finding out yourself.

"Wait, what?" I’d never met my faerie parent. No half-blood had. They didn’t want us. That’s a lie. Not a funny one, either.

It’s true. He moved closer into the doorway. The Sidhe came here. They saw how many of us are left, and… that woman with the faerie magic, Ivy Lane, she asked them to claim us and allow us access to the faerie realm.

I laughed humourlessly. Sure, I’d heard the rumours about Ivy and her visit to the Courts, but she had faerie magic. I didn’t. I’d never survive in Faerie. You can’t force a faerie parent to claim a child.

No, he said. That’s why it’s taken so long. It took me a while to find mine out.

Do you want a medal? I scooted back, having had about enough of him attempting to sneak into my flat. Knowing who they are doesn’t change anything.

Raine, he said softly. It does. Your parent is Sidhe. A Sidhe Lady of the Unseelie Court.

I didn’t respond. I wasn’t sure I could, even if the right words showed up. No wonder he’d spoken to me again.

I was half-Sidhe. Royalty.

2

"I don’t believe you, I finally said. You know I can’t even cast a glamour, let alone use the kind of magic the Sidhe do."

Damn. I hadn’t meant to open my heart to him again, even if he already knew about my lack of magical prowess. He had that way about him—a manner which invited you to let him in, to tell him everything. A promise he’d never use those words against you. Yeah, and look how that turned out.

It’s true. It took some time for the Sidhe to work out your parentage, but it’s unmistakable. Your mother is Lady Nessa Whitefall of the Unseelie Court.

The more he spoke, the more absurd he sounded. You’ll have to do better than that.

I can bring proof. I have a letter with the royal seal.

Since when were you acting as their messenger boy?

He ignored my barbed comment, pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket. Paper thick enough to be called parchment, covered in text I couldn’t read. Faerie text. The stamp—a wolf’s head—did match what I’d seen of the Unseelie Court. And the name—Raine Warren/Whitefall. My name. Listed as heir.

Okay. It looked official. But that didn’t mean they hadn’t made a mistake. A monumental one.

If it’s true, I appreciate you telling me, but I’m no Sidhe. I’m happy where I am.

Really. He eyed the dingy walls of my flat.

I moved to cover the view—it was none of his damn business. Yes. If it’s so hard for you to believe, I’m not going to bother explaining. You go to Faerie, you get eaten alive. I’ll stick with my human side.

There’s no human side to us, Raine, he said. We’re all faerie or none. And you have a legacy.

Legacy? I mean absolutely nothing to them. Anyone who thinks otherwise is deluding themselves. Don’t you have a family to meet?

He blinked. Yes. I do.

And? I couldn’t help my curiosity. I wanted to know his parentage.

No, I don’t. Not just because we were finished, but because it wasn’t a competition. I wanted no part in this game at all. The Sidhe had probably sent him to me on purpose. Why they’d bother playing a prank on me, of all people, who knew. Maybe because they were now free to openly walk into the mortal realm, they’d decided to find a new audience for their cruel games. It was harder for them to steal mortals away with all doors to Faerie under close watch now, so screwing with us lowly half-faeries must be their substitute.

The house of Lady Hornbeam. Of Summer.

Obviously. He had brown eyes, not green, but I knew his magic. Intimately.

I know, Summer and Winter faeries aren’t supposed to be involved with one another. In the eyes of the Courts, it’s almost as bad as murder. Things like that didn’t matter here in the mortal realm. At least, they didn’t before the Sidhe shoved their way into our lives.

I thought—

Thought what? I’d take your hand and walk with you into Faerie as though I don’t have family here? Unless the Sidhe show up in person, I’ll be staying put, thanks.

You… He looked past me again at the flat.

Yes, Dad’s here. Go away and leave us in peace.

His mouth twisted. Are you sure you don’t want to come? Because this might be your only chance.

Honestly, Robin, I ran out of fucks to give a long time ago.

I closed the door in his face, and took in a couple of calming breaths.

Okay. I might have handled that better. I couldn’t think of a reason he’d lie to me about my heritage of all things—which I’d always assumed I’d never know. How they’d found out was a mystery, too, because the Sidhe never kept track of mortals they’d stolen. Right?

Who was it? Dad asked sleepily.

Nobody, I said firmly. Go back to sleep. It’s not morning yet.

Though it would be in a few hours. Some birthday this was turning out to be.

The door opened a fraction, and Robin whispered, Sorry.

I turned back to him, glaring. You might want to time your bad news better.

It’s not bad news. His forehead pinched as he looked past me at the neglected state of the flat. He’d never known about Dad—and he’d not been as bad back then, anyway. I’m sorry for the timing. The Winter contingent just left, and it felt important that I tell you right away. I’ll come back tomorrow.

Try it and you’ll leave here in a body bag.

He winced. Good. Let him try putting me under a spell again. Why they’d sent him to deliver a message when we belonged to opposite Courts was odd, too, but I was through playing games. I’d take it up with the Sidhe messengers themselves if he kept bugging me.

Bye, Robin. I closed the door, properly this time.

Dad didn’t speak again, and I checked his door was closed before returning to my own room. Like most half-faeries, Robin worshiped the Courts despite never having set foot there, but he’d built a life here in the mortal realm like the rest of us. He’d been an orphan before he’d started the performance company to entertain mortals. I’d quickly risen in the ranks as the main attraction. Half-faeries make humans look uncoordinated and clumsy, but to stand out amongst us, you have to be extraordinary. He made me feel that way, once.

I earned every smile, every sidelong look, revelled in the attention as I soared high, and held the crowds under a spell. Even now, I wasn’t sure how much of that was me and how much was him. I couldn’t explain the sensation when his magic and mine—the little there was—clicked, like I could do anything as long as we were connected. Except it wasn’t real. Since he’d gone, the stage lights had lifted. I remembered every moment he’d looked past me as though I was only there when convenient, and turned them into armour.

Half-faeries are pretty resilient. It’s the mortal blood inside us. When you have little time to live, you rebuild fast. It’d take a while for the latest bombshell to sink in, though. I couldn’t be descended from the Sidhe. Absolutely not. Maybe if Robin realised I wouldn’t rise to his bait, he’d find someone else’s life to ruin.

I shoved all thoughts of Robin, the Sidhe and hidden legacies firmly from my mind when I got up that morning. No thievery today—I had enough food in the house for the next few weeks. I mostly stole from the mages’ stores, since they got first pick of every supply truck that came from outside town. Supposedly, it was only fair because they did more than any other supernaturals to defend everyone. Maybe I couldn’t deny that, but I was glad I’d picked my obnoxious former employer’s place to steal the cake from.

I put on my best jeans and shirt and covered my white hair with my rose-gold handkerchief again, grimacing at my reflection. Aside from the hair, eyes and pointed ears, the most distinctive sign of my nature was the marking on my face, a half-moon shape where my jaw met my neck. Like the Winter Court’s way of reminding me of its never-ending hold over my entire existence. Not being able to use glamour was the worst part, because it ensured that I couldn’t blend in amongst humans, let alone my own kind. I tugged up my collar to hide the mark, and tried to wrench my thoughts back into birthday mode.

Dad was already awake, reading a month-old newspaper in the battered armchair.

Hey Dad, I said brightly. Guess what day it is?

He looked up. He wasn’t all that old, but Faerie had aged him, turned his hair to wispy grey and his face to wrinkles.

It’s your birthday.

Yep. I’m officially Old.

You’re eighteen.

My heart sank. Nope. Twenty-four. Mentally, though, yeah, I’m a teenager. Being mature is overrated. I skipped over to the kitchen and opened the cupboard, throwing bacon into a pan.

In daylight, the risks I’d taken last night seemed foolish, but no more so than any I’d taken before. After Robin’s revelation, the memory of those faerie knights felt like a dream. Just like that, they’d vanished into Faerie in a flash of white-blue light—

I told you not to think about that, Raine.

When that didn’t work, I thought, that’s what happened when your mother left you and Dad behind.

Dad stared at the wall, a habit of his. There were times where he looked at things I couldn’t see, spoke to people I’d never met, and the most painful part was knowing he wanted it. No mortal could resist the siren song of the Sidhe.

Maybe only a Sidhe could have damaged him the way my mother had.

My throat tightened. So much for not thinking about it. But it only affected my whole life. My entire past. Even the bit I couldn’t remember. The whole world was changed thanks to the faeries, although I didn’t think my mother had been amongst the Sidhe who’d attacked our realm twenty-two years ago. Either way, a lot of half-bloods had been left stranded here. Would any be left after they’d been collected and taken to the Courts? What would become of those of us who remained behind? And seriously, if I went after Robin into Winter, how in hell was I supposed to get home?

As I was loading our plates, there was a knock on the door.

Dammit, Robin.

Gritting my teeth, I snatched up the nearest weapon—a knife with wooden handle that protected my hands from the iron of the blade. Apparently he couldn’t take a hint.

Miss Warren? said a voice.

Two human men greeted me at the door, and I swiftly hid the knife behind my back. I hoped they hadn’t seen it.

Yes? I said warily. Human authority figures rarely came with good news.

One of the men said, It’s come to our attention that your father, Mr Harold Warren, has been seen causing damage to the property of your neighbour Mr Branson. His ornamental gnomes were found in your garden.

My heart sank. Yeah. He gets confused sometimes. It’s all right. I watch him most of the time. I’m his carer.

They were decapitated.

Oh.

I stepped forwards into the light, so they’d have no doubt at all that I wasn’t fully human. At times like these, my too-blue eyes came in handy. Both of them took a step back, exchanging glances. It was a glance I’d seen too many times to count, a look that communicated that I was one of them. The usual human rules didn’t apply—not if we didn’t want them to. And obviously they had no way of knowing whether I was the type of half-faerie who cooperated, or the type who’d blast them in the face with Winter magic and cause icicles to grow on their noses.

The first guy continued with his spiel. Something about the council will have to take action, and a bill with far too many zeroes on it. Who the hell spent so much on lawn ornaments?

And if your father can’t speak to us himself…

More words followed, even more unwelcome. If the authorities came poking into my life, they’d find out about the thievery pretty quickly. They’d take Dad away, lock him up, and I’d be completely alone. Maybe even lock me up. Denzel’s antics hadn’t helped matters at all.

I’ll pay, I said quickly. Just—I’ll pay. I swear it won’t happen again. Because I’d take care of the ornaments first. Bloody humans and their constant fascination with all things faerie.

The humans left, and I stared after them, my heart sinking. There went this month’s rent money. And next month’s, too. If I didn’t think of something good to steal, and fast, we’d be out on the streets by the month’s end.

Before I could close the door, there was a flash of light, and a small figure materialised from thin air. The little winged man spun around and bowed at me. A sprite, eight inches tall, made of a wispy substance that wasn’t quite solid, wasn’t quite air. He wore a tuxedo of all things, and carried a stack of papers.

The Unseelie Court formally extends an invitation to Raine Whitefall to come to the Winter territories of Faerie to accept her inheritance.

Not interested, I told the sprite. I’ve made my decision, and I decline the offer. I’m staying here in the mortal realm.

The sprite’s brow furrowed, then he inserted a finger into his overlong ear as though he thought he’d misheard me.

No, you heard me right. I’m not Sidhe. I don’t have magic. I don’t qualify for this, even if I wanted to come to Winter. Which I don’t.

You belong to the Whitefall bloodline, and you will inherit riches beyond imagining. A palace of ice, and—

Stop, I said, before temptation could sink its claws in me. I was all Dad had left, and they’d taken his life away from him. They’d do the same for me. No question. Whoever my mother was, she wasn’t worth it.

You will inherit riches beyond imagining. The Sidhe lived for hundreds of years. How big a fortune could you amass in that time? Never mind rent money—if I claimed it, we’d be able to move out of this shithole. Pity it belonged to the one place I’d sworn never to set foot in, not even if my life depended on it. And the faeries never gave anything away for free. No—I’d be better off selling fake amulets on the black market.

"I’m not interested, I said. Tell the Winter Court that. There’s nothing binding me to them. It’s my decision."

The sprite bowed again. As you wish, Lady Whitefall.

He vanished in a swirl of blue glitter, which fell to the ground like fresh snow. The pieces of glitter hit the same spot on the ground in a flash of light, turning into a small piece of paper. What’d he left me, a business card?

Words were written on the paper: It’s in your interest to come to the Unseelie Court, Raine. I trust you’ll make your decision shortly.

Nice try. I ripped it in two, then tore each piece into two more and threw the pieces outside. Then I went back into the flat.

A rustling noise came from behind me. I turned to see the paper lying on the mat in the hallway. In one piece. It was bespelled. Obviously. Thanks for that one, Faerie.

The bacon was cold. I didn’t care, and apparently Dad didn’t either. My good mood—or what was left of it—had thoroughly evaporated. Why would the Winter Court think I’d be thrilled about their invitation to leave my home? Maybe because, to most of us, Faerie was home. The others didn’t have ailing parents to take care of, or no magic to defend themselves with. If my mother wanted to meet me so badly, she could come here herself. This façade was all about the Sidhe showing this Ivy Lane and the mage council that they kept their word and helped us poor, helpless half-bloods find where we belonged. Never mind that we’d never fit into either realm. We were built to die, to wither away as our blood signalled our demise. Pure faeries lived forever, ever-burning candles, not snuffed out in the slightest breeze like we were. They might be pretending to be polite to us now, but they could as easily turn against us. No inheritance was worth the risk, even if it’d save us from being turfed out of the flat. Faerie was the last resort possible. I wasn’t out of tricks yet.

Who was at the door? Dad asked me.

The neighbour, I said. Did you really destroy Mr Branson’s lawn ornaments?

They looked evil. They were watching the house.

I sighed. You’re lucky the humans think I’ll curse them with faerie magic if they dare put up more of a fight against us. It was no use telling him about the lack of money. Dad couldn’t work, and it’d only distress him. Please don’t mess with the neighbours’ ornaments. The human authorities don’t like it.

Humans, he muttered. They’re a joke, aren’t they?

Yeah, sure. I’m half of one, remember? I didn’t know if he remembered he was fully human. Not with his mind permanently altered by Faerie. Sometimes he seemed to think he was Sidhe. I’d had to throw away all the mirrors in the flat after he broke them in a rage, tormented by the reminders of his own mortality.

You’re not like them. He stroked my hair, his eyes crinkling with tears. I—I’m so sorry, Raine. I tried to stop them.

My throat tightened. He said things like this sometimes. I’d figured he meant, I tried to stop your mother from kicking us out of Faerie. It’d also been my birthday when we’d been abandoned here in the mortal realm, apparently. So it might not have been the day I’d been born. On days like this, I felt a thousand years old.

I shrugged. "It’s okay. Ignore them. Today’s our day. Wanna light the candles now?" If nothing else, at least we’d have had our moment if someone else decided to show up and trash the place. At this rate, we wouldn’t even be able to afford to eat next month.

I’d like that.

I lifted the cake onto the coffee table and went to retrieve the matches—to prevent accidents, I kept them hidden in my room. A shuffling noise came from the flat door, and I paused. Okay, if Robin’s left something alive outside my flat, I’ll shove it up his nose.

The door flew wide, nearly coming off its hinges, as a giant and furred shape barrelled through. A hellhound. My knife was too far to reach, but its attention was on Dad.

Dad, run! I yelled.

I ran, clearing the table in one jump, and then the beast was on me.

3

Idodged the creature’s lethal bite, kicking it hard in the side. Its teeth snapped at the doorway, gouging holes in the plaster. The tight space of the hallway made it difficult for it to charge, but it could still fit through the entryway into the flat. Its teeth dripped acid-like drool onto the mat—and at me. I ducked, pulling my handkerchief over my head just in time to avoid the splatter of drool. Walking back a couple of steps towards the coffee table, I reached to grab the nearest weapon—which happened to be the cake knife.

My hand closed around the knife handle as the beast jumped, forcing me to throw myself flat. The coffee table shattered under its weight, sending glass, wine and cake flying everywhere. Dad yelled from behind the bedroom door, which he’d closed. I heard him dragging furniture against the door from behind.

As the beast shook broken glass from its bulky body, I stabbed it in the eye with the cake knife.

The beast’s legs buckled as the blade sank into its eye, splattering the floor—and me—with blood and grisly jelly-like stuff. More drool dripped onto the floor, burning holes in the rug as the hellhound’s head slumped at my feet.

Pulling my handkerchief off my head, I inspected the damage. The hellhound’s drool had eaten holes in that, too. Great.

You okay, Dad?

He whimpered from behind the door. Raine? What’s that?

A hellhound. I wiped the bloody knife on the ruined handkerchief. Who sent that in here?

Obviously, I didn’t expect an answer. Now faeries were attacking me at home? I’d thought hellhounds had gone extinct. They belonged to Winter—I thought—but had been known to easily fall under the control of anyone who wanted a quick and deadly way of disposing of their enemies.

I think someone tried to assassinate me.

My mind seemed slow to keep up with the obvious. Mostly, I was stumped on how I was supposed to get this great hulking monster out of the flat to a place it wouldn’t draw attention. I kept hold of the knife and backed out of the flat door.

That bloody letter remained outside in the hallway. Even the beast barrelling through the door had left it untouched. I crouched down to examine it again. The ink was still wet. No—the message had changed to a fresh one.

I did warn you, Raine. Others seek your inheritance, too, and they will not hesitate to take your life before you can ever set foot in Faerie.

Well, that wasn’t ominous at all.

If I hated anything, it was being coerced or threatened. I glared at the letter, leaving it where it was. As though an attack on my home would ever make me think it was safe to leave. The Sidhe could suck it. As for the fey beast, I wasn’t going to let it rot here in the flat. Which meant carrying it outside, without getting any drool on me.

I went into my room and put my thick coat on again, grabbing a fresh handkerchief. Then I returned to the living room to find Robin staring into the flat.

Get out, I snapped.

Raine. His voice cracked. I stared at him, momentarily distracted by his dishevelled appearance. His arm was wrapped in a bloody bandage, and a nasty-looking scratch marred one side of his perfect face, inches away from his left eye.

What happened to you?

Winter beasts. He looked at the hellhound. They came for you, too.

I strode over to him. Let me guess. I have to go into Faerie otherwise they’ll keep trying to kill me. Real original.

His jaw worked. I—Raine. There are things you… things you should hear from them. Not from me.

If it’s so important, my so-called family can come here and tell me themselves. I’m not leaving Dad here alone with hellhounds invading my flat.

It’s you they’re after, he said. I’d be happy to help move your father to a safe house. But Raine, it’s urgent. They need you in Faerie. If not—the people who want you dead won’t stop until they’ve taken down everyone you know.

My mouth dropped open. What the hell’s so important about me? I’m a half-blood without magic. That’s not worth murdering people over.

He looked over his shoulder. May I come in? I don’t want to risk anyone overhearing.

You’re not allowed in here.

I can help you get that creature out. You can’t leave it here. It’ll attract other Winter monsters, and so will its blood.

Even five year olds know that. Don’t patronise me.

Sorry.

Apologies meant little coming from him, considering what he’d put me through already. If you’re going to stick around, make yourself useful and help me get this thing out of here.

Unfortunately, he was dead right—its corpse would draw every creature attracted to faerie blood, and magic, in the area. Not to mention put a beacon on my head for a week, unless I got the blood out of the carpet. The house had no iron wards on it, because the effect of the iron would spread to me, as well as any fae creature that tried to get into the flat.

I tugged on a pair of leather gloves and grabbed the hellhound around the middle, pulling it along the carpet. Robin made a feeble attempt to help. I might move quickly but I’m not that strong, and Robin’s injured arm was clearly bothering him. Between the two of us, we didn’t make much headway, and it took several minutes of cursing and tripping over hellhound feet for me to notice we were being watched.

A half-blood male stood outside the building, eying the hellhound through the open front door. He had shoulder-length dark hair, and pale skin marked with a curved scar on his right cheekbone. His pointed ears were the only other visible signs of his faerie heritage.

Need a hand?

If you’re offering one. I glared at Robin. Stop walking sideways. It’s not helping.

Allow me. The man stepped inside the hallway, taking the hellhound’s front from me. The drool didn’t seem to bother him—and then I looked closer and saw he wore some kind of armour, black and form-fitting and downright fancy compared to the second-hand crap I usually saw on half-bloods playing at being real Sidhe. Who was he?

Thanks, I said, when we were outside. I brushed sweaty hair from my eyes with the back of my glove, and I was sure his gaze jumped to the mark on my neck. I didn’t know him. I was fairly sure I’d remember a half-blood who dressed like a noble. Maybe he was here to collect me. You don’t look like you’re from around here.

No, I can’t say I’ve been to this particular area of the city before. It’s… different.

You mean it’s a hellhole. I know it is. Doesn’t mean I wanted a hellhound chewing my carpet up. I hauled up the hellhound’s flank again. There’s a place nearby we can take him. Down the street, turn left. Let the mercenaries take care of him.

The human ones? The stranger arched an eyebrow. Are you sure?

Of course I’m sure. Robin, can you go and close the door? If you go back inside, I’ll know about it.

Robin gave the stranger a suspicious look, but did as I said. Good. I bloody hoped no other hellhounds had been sent to the flat, but Robin could handle them.

The name’s Cedar, by the way, said the stranger.

Raine. I’d offer to shake your hand like the humans do, but I have hellhound drool all over my gloves.

He laughed, the typical melodic laugh of a half-faerie. It’s delightful to meet you, Raine.

Sure it is. He must be here for some purpose, but I was too preoccupied trying not to drop the hellhound to get a closer look and figure out which Court he belonged to. I’d thought he’d leave the beast at the road’s end, but instead, he helped me carry it all the way into the alcove between two abandoned houses. The mercenaries frequented this area a lot, because it practically wore a sign saying easy-to-kill faerie beasts here. Hellhounds, however, did not fall into the category of easy kills, especially as they hadn’t been seen in this realm in over a year. That I knew of, anyway.

I don’t suppose you saw where it came from? I asked Cedar. You were outside my flat, right?

Unfortunately, I didn’t. I heard screaming and ran this way. If I’d reached you sooner, I’d have been able to help.

I let go of the hellhound’s legs, grimacing at the trail of blue-tinged blood all over my coat. That’d be fun to dry-clean.

Well, you didn’t quite arrive in time to save me from the evil monster, but I’ll take what I can get at this point.

Cedar smiled. You don’t look like someone who needs saving. And not just because it looks like you killed that thing with a blunt knife.

Believe it or not, that’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me all day. And yeah, it was my birthday cake knife.

Happy birthday, then, Raine. He turned his smile up to full effect, which on a half-faerie, is like being punched in the face by the sun. He had the sort of striking looks that would cause heads to turn even amongst half-bloods, which would have suggested Sidhe heritage if not for his light hazel coloured eyes which showed no marker of his Court. I’d guess he came from Summer, but I wouldn’t know for sure unless he used magic. All my suspicions went up to max. Usually half-bloods flaunted which Court they belonged to—or, like me, had no way of hiding it. I hadn’t spent my life around criminals to be fooled by a pretty face.

Cheers, I said. All right. Mind telling me why you were near my flat? Running an errand for the Courts?

The Courts? Not at all. I was visiting half-blood territory and decided to take a shortcut home.

Home. Did he mean here—or Faerie? He wore a smile which might have been an open book… or a mask.

I dropped my hands to my sides. What do you want from me?

Nothing more than to see you home safely, Raine.

I rolled my eyes. All right, have it your way. I started walking, one eye on him. After a heartbeat, he followed, easily, arms at his sides as to show he was unarmed. Considering the armoured coat he wore, he didn’t fool me for a second. Half-bloods might look out for one another, but his timing was a little too perfect. I definitely hadn’t seen him before, much less in a mostly human part of town.

Bu even without magic, I could still sense others’, though muted. No evil intent came from him, and the lack of a distinct marker of his Court suggested his own magic wasn’t powerful, either. That, or he was taking care to keep it on mute.

Luckily, it appeared the hellhound had come alone. Robin crouched beside the door, tipping something from a small container onto the bloodstains on the doorstep.

I’ll see you around, Raine, said Cedar, and gave me one last smile before walking away.

Sure you will, I muttered. Sad to say, nobody offered anything for nothing in my experience, and now I watched him walk away, he looked even more suspicious. He walked swiftly, checking over his shoulder every couple of steps, and was lightly glamoured to disguise his pointed ears from any human onlookers. My Sight let me see through glamour and his wasn’t particularly sophisticated, but there was something… odd about it. I still couldn’t sense whether he was from Summer or Winter.

Given his clothes and manners, I’d bet my right hand he was from the Courts. But he hadn’t asked me to come with him. Hmm.

Who was that? Robin asked. Did you know the guy?

No, I didn’t. What are you putting on the carpet? Iron filings?

They’ll deter anything from coming to your door.

And give me blisters if I step outside barefoot.

Did you plan to do that?

You never know. I clamped my mouth shut, determined not to let him reel me into conversation again—because that way led to the dreaded Sidhe. Instead, I returned to the flat, checked Dad was still in the bedroom, and grabbed a dustpan and brush from the kitchen to clean up the broken glass.

Robin joined me a minute later. This looks bad.

Any clue who might have sent it? Not everyone has hellhounds at their disposal.

No. He paused. Ideally we need a witch spell to clean the floor. Or we can just pull the carpet up.

You’re the one with magic.

And you’re the thief. I saw some spells in there…

He’d been peeking at my hoard after all. They’re not for you. And they can’t clean up hellhound drool, for crying out loud. I’ll shift this lot.

I tipped the last of the glass into a plastic bin bag. A shard pierced my palm and I hissed in pain. Great. More faerie blood on the carpet, this time mine. My blood wasn’t worth anything, but it’d still draw attention.

Maybe it is worth something. Someone wanted to kill me for it.

With Dad hiding in the room behind me, I didn’t dare question Robin any further about the Court’s message. I used the knife to cut out the damaged section of carpet—not hard, because the hellhound’s drool had eaten through it anyway—and sealed it in bin bags under Robin’s hovering. Then I stripped anything the blood had splattered on and shoved that in another bag, with the exception of my coat. That, I kept on until the bags were outside. I’d dump them somewhere later. The iron would deter anything else from coming inside, anyway. I dug in the cupboard for a spare rug and threw it over the missing carpet. Done. Relatively. Pity I hadn’t been able to salvage the cake, though.

Robin stood on the side taking orders, which I figured was because he had more to say to me. Once we were done cleaning, I hauled the last bag of ruined carpet out into the corridor and beckoned him to come with me.

All right, I growled at him. Now I expect a detailed explanation from you as to why a hellhound came into my house in the first place. I thought they belonged to Winter.

They belonged to one part of Winter, he said. But they mostly work for whoever gives them orders.

How do you know it isn’t the Winter Court who want to kill me?

Because they would never turn on one of their own.

And I’m one of them. It still felt wrong. I was my father’s daughter. Not this faceless Sidhe Lady’s mortal offspring. What did she even want with me? As a mortal, it wasn’t like being her heir actually meant anything. The Sidhe lived forever, after all. So they ran off and had affairs with mortals and left half-blood children all over the place.

Of course you’re one of them, he said. Though—there’s something you should know first. I’d rather explain it to you when we’re in Faerie.

Tell me here.

His gaze flickered to the door to Dad’s room. A surge of anger gripped me. My hand brushed against the iron part of the knife and pain lanced up my palm. Ow.

Tell me, I said. I’m not in a good mood today, Robin.

It’s your—your mother, said Robin. She’s dead.

The world rocked and swayed then went deadly still. For the second time in less than twelve hours, I stumbled, my heart plummeting like I’d been shoved off a cliff into free-fall. All words fled my tongue, leaving a gaping silence behind.

I should feel something—grief, sadness, something other than shock. But I didn’t. All I knew of my mother was that she’d captured my father, bewitched him and then used her magic to permanently damage his mind. I’d never forgive her for that, even in death.

But the Sidhe didn’t die. They were immortal.

Now do you see why the Sidhe would prefer it if you came in person? There’s the matter of the inheritance to sort out, and—

Inheritance? I didn’t give a crap about faerie trinkets, but money… money would be good to have. Really good. Maybe I’d get compensation for someone setting hellhounds on me after all.

It’s the reason you’re being attacked. You’re set to inherit something very valuable—I don’t know what it is, because I’m not in the same family as you are. But I heard them whispering about it. If you don’t claim it, someone else will. If you stay here, others will attack you because they believe you possess it.

"Possess what?"

But I knew what. Nothing would make every faerie lose their collective minds and murder one another—nothing short of a genuine faerie talisman.

I—I can’t say, because I don’t know. It’s your family’s treasure, not mine. But there are rumours. Whatever it is, it’s valuable enough to kill for. Several people have already died.

Once again, he’d rendered me speechless. Why me? The question was childish, but of all people, couldn’t they have picked someone with more magical gift than a pencil?

Maybe this talisman would be the source of magic in my family. Wait. That makes sense. Maybe… if I had the talisman, I’d get magic.

The idea seemed about as appealing as dancing for Robin right now. I mean, people had died. A fae monster had almost torn my throat out in my own living room. And far worse would await me in the Winter Court.

I looked at the closed bedroom door. Dad didn’t seem aware of what was happening, which was probably for the best. If he figured out Lady Whitefall was dead, the Sidhe alone knew what he’d do. He’d worshipped her, in the way a mortal worshipped a living goddess. A form of enslavement, no matter how you looked at it. Finding out she’d died might be the final crack that caused him to shatter. I wouldn’t be responsible for that. Never.

But that explained why the sprite had said I’d inherit riches beyond imagining. If there was nobody else to claim those riches, then maybe I could use them to dig us out of our current financial hole. It wasn’t like I was wandering into Faerie unprepared. I’d be going with a group, and I’d be back here before Dad even realised I’d gone. It’d be selfish of me to leave him, but even more selfish to stay and put his life in danger. I’m doing this for your sake, Dad. I won’t let them keep me captive like they did to you. Over my dead body.

The letter said to come to Faerie. It didn’t say anything about staying in Faerie. I’d just take my inheritance, get an explanation of my mother’s fate from someone whose word I actually trusted, and come home. Done. Finished. Minimal disruption.

Okay, I said. "Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m taking one trip into Faerie, to collect my inheritance. Then I’m coming home."

You—

Don’t, I snapped. We both know I don’t belong in Faerie, and with my mother dead, there’s nothing keeping me there. My life is here. I’m not rearranging my entire future because the Winter Court suddenly decided to remember I exist.

His mouth thinned. It’s not a wise choice. The Court would protect you from those who seek to do you harm.

You mean whoever sent the hellhound? Child’s play. If I get this valuable inheritance, so much the better.

This isn’t a game.

You think I’m laughing? You just fucked me over. Big time. Not that I should be surprised, but this is as reasonable as I’m willing to be. You might be happy to leave everyone you know in this realm hanging. I’m not.

Which was the heart of our issues. He’d happily left me behind, content to carry on as though our relationship had never existed, as though I’d never been his inspiration, his greatest performer. Those words, as it turned out, meant as little as his promises.

I’d trust nobody. The Sidhe, least of all.

I’m sorry, Raine. I really am.

Maybe he did mean it. But he’d still, indirectly or not, ruined my life again. Fine. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.

In the weeks following the break-up, I’d dreamed of saying those words. In no way had a dead hellhound and a summons from Faerie been involved, though. At least he left without a fuss. I sighed, rolled up my bloodstained coat, and shoved it in the washing machine, hoping hellhound drool wouldn’t be the final straw that caused the rickety old thing to break.

Dad’s door inched open. What was that?

A fae monster, I told him. It’s dead now. We’re safe.

I didn’t bring up tomorrow. Not yet. I’d tell him when things had calmed down. When I’d found the words. And how in hell was I supposed to explain this to Denzel?

Ugh. Forget it. I’d be back within less than a day, and Faerie would never bother me again.

I didn’t really believe it, but the thought made me feel a little better about everything. Battling the dryer and cleaning the flat took care of most of the rest of the day. I didn’t sleep much that night, though, knowing Robin would show up early in the morning to drag me into Faerie. Every noise made me jump, thinking another hellhound had come to attack us. I gave up on sleep at five a.m. and put a call through to the mercenaries to send someone to watch our flat. One mention of the hellhound and I had no fewer than six volunteers, all keen to claim a kill. I hoped they’d be disappointed, but at least Dad would be under guard in case anyone came after me.

What’re you on the phone for? Dad asked sleepily, coming into the living room as I hung up. He eyed my ragged boots, even more ragged jacket and torn up jeans—maybe I was being petty, but if Faerie expected me to show up in my best dress, they could keep it. You’re going out?

Yeah. I put my phone in my pocket—it wouldn’t work in Faerie, but would help convince him I wasn’t going far.

There was a knock on the door.

Dad, I said. I’m off to run a few errands. There’s a chance I might not be able to come back tonight. Will you be okay? You remember how to use the microwave, right?

Of course I remember how to use the bloody microwave. He looked at me with eyes more lucid than they usually were. It’s them, isn’t it? They’ve called you.

I paused. Yes.

He held my gaze for a long moment. Be careful, Raine. They’re not like us.

Tell me something I don’t know. I leaned forward and hugged him. I’ll be fine, Dad. I’ll be back before you know it.

That, I can promise. I’d keep my word, and if anyone stood in my way, I’d cut them down.

I stepped back, the glint of the iron knife on the table catching my eye. If I took the knife with me, it’d signal I had no intention of playing nice with my newfound family, whoever they were. Iron was a direct threat to every faerie I came across. It’d blow any chance I had of making friends.

It might also save my life.

I tucked the knife into my belt and walked out the door.

4

Robin tried to start a conversation a couple of times on the way to half-blood territory, but gave up after I responded tersely. My mind was elsewhere, torn into two pieces. I’d never felt the separation between my two halves as keenly as I did now, and I didn’t usually think of myself as half a faerie or half a human. Just me.

Here, though, it was impossible to forget. The territory was a haven of magic in the middle of a human city, a blazing beacon. Literally, because two half-bloods were in the middle of a magical duel right by the entrance. Bright blue and green light clashed with the effect of fireworks colliding in mid-air as a female faerie with thorny hair did battle with a long-fingered winged faerie with blue sparks dancing from his hands. Summer and Winter, getting along like a house on fire. As usual.

The Summer faerie unleashed a blast of green energy from her