The Iron Traitor (The Iron Fey: Call of the Forgotten #2)

The Iron Traitor (The Iron Fey: Call of the Forgotten #2) Page 24

The Forgotten shifted restlessly but didn’t answer. The redcap snorted and turned away, while his friend paused to eye me hungrily, running a black tongue over his teeth. I met his gaze, narrowing my eyes, daring him to try. He sneered, spat on the floor and followed the other redcap into the darkness.

“Come on,” Kenzie whispered and stepped around me, pulling Annwyl in the direction the redcaps had vanished. “There has to be a door back here somewhere.”

“Wait!” I hissed, but they weren’t listening.

Gripping my swords, I followed the faint glow of Annwyl’s hair, past the staring eyes of the Forgotten, until we came to a small black door in the corner. Kenzie carefully turned the knob and cracked it open to peer through.

“What do you see?” Annwyl asked, hovering behind her, while I glared back at the room, looking for any Forgotten coming after us. “Is Keirran in there?”

“I don’t see anything,” Kenzie replied and eased the door open. “Come on, before someone finds us.”

They slipped through the frame, and I had no choice but to follow.

This room was better lit, but I almost wished that it wasn’t. Directly in front of us was an enormous shelf full of things you’d find in a horror film. Knives and wooden baseball bats, hockey masks, clown wigs, eerie dolls, skulls and bones. A scythe leaned against the side of the shelf, huge blade glimmering in the torchlight, and a shriveled, shrunken head dangled by its hair, spinning lazily to face us. Huge, hairy spiders crawled freely over the macabre bric-a-brac, and a large snake lay coiled around a skull on the middle shelf, watching us with beady eyes.

Kenzie pressed a hand to her mouth and shrank back, trembling, but I caught the murmur of voices from the front of the room. Carefully, I eased up to the shelf, trying to ignore the awful contents, and peeked through.

A desk sat against the far wall, a pair of redcaps standing on either side. Seated in the chair was a tall, spindly man with pale skin and dark hair that writhed atop his head like shadows. His ears were pointed, his eyes completely black, and he steepled his fingers under his sharp chin, appraising the cloaked, hooded figure standing across from him.

“I apologize for the delay,” the man said, his voice a slithering whisper that reminded me of snakes and insects and other unpleasant things. “Business has been quite busy of late. I normally do not get such esteemed visitors to my humble shop. My clients are usually exiles or, more recently, the scores of fey you saw outside. I cannot imagine you would need what I offer.”

“It’s not for me,” said a quiet, instantly familiar voice, and my heart leaped to my throat. Annwyl stifled a gasp, and I put a warning hand on her arm. I almost lunged forward to grab the hooded figure myself, but something made me pause. Something about him was different. Even though it was the same calm, polite tone I recognized from before, his voice was cold, and the two redcaps near the desk were eyeing him in fear.

The man behind the desk blinked slowly. “And are you certain I have what your...friend...needs?” he asked. “I normally do not deal with middlemen—if the client has need of my merchandise, they come get it themselves. The price depends on many things—how long they have been exiled, how close to the Fade they are, how soon they need it. All of this affects price, as I need to know how potent a mixture they should have. Your friend should really be here.”

“Well, she’s not,” the hooded figure said, his voice hard. “And you’ll deal with me, because there’s no time left. The Fade has already begun.”

“Already begun?” The man straightened, suddenly intrigued. “Well, if that is the case, she’ll need the strongest mix possible. Of course...” He eyed the figure, a slow smile spreading over his face. “That means the price will be...quite high.”

“That’s fine” was the immediate answer. “Price doesn’t matter. Whatever it takes, as long as it’s from me.”

“No!”

Annwyl couldn’t contain herself any longer. Breaking away, she rushed around the shelf into the room. “Keirran, no!”

Cursing, I scrambled out of hiding, Kenzie right behind me, as the hooded figure spun, his cloak swirling around him. My stomach lurched as our gazes met. Cold ice-blue eyes stabbed at me from beneath the hood, and bright silver hair fell around his face, the only spots of color to be seen. Beneath the cloak, he was dressed in black: black shirt, pants, boots, even gloves. I remembered the smiling, easygoing faery from just a week ago. The hard-eyed creature dressed all in black, staring at me in this den of shadow and fear, seemed like a stranger.

But then his gaze slid to Annwyl, and the cold stranger disappeared as shock replaced the impassiveness in his eyes. Keirran stepped forward, his voice an awed whisper. “Annwyl?”

She rushed forward, and the prince’s arms opened as the Summer girl threw herself into him. Keirran hugged her close, closing his eyes. “Annwyl,” he murmured again, sounding relieved and almost desperate. His hood had fallen back, and the torchlight glimmered over his loose silver hair as he buried his face in her neck. Kenzie smiled, watching them, while I glared at the man and the lurking redcaps, making sure they didn’t try anything.

Keirran pulled back but didn’t release the Summer faery, pressing a palm to her cheek, his face intense, worried. “Annwyl, what are you doing here? Why aren’t you with Leanansidhe? Ethan...” His icy gaze flicked to me, but it was just puzzled now, looking like the prince I remembered. “Why are you and Kenzie here?”

“I asked them to come,” Annwyl replied, drawing Keirran’s attention back to her. “I needed to find you. They agreed to help.”

“Excuse me,” said the man behind the desk, standing up. His redcap guards had drawn forward, but he held up a hand, waving them back. “Not to interrupt, but we do have a business transaction to complete.” His stark black eyes fixed on Annwyl, and he cocked his head. “I assume this is the friend in question?”

Keirran sobered. “Yes,” he replied, keeping a tight hold of Annwyl’s hand as he stepped forward. “It is. Can you help her? I’ll pay any price.”

“No!” Annwyl tugged at his sleeve, and he gave her a puzzled frown. She drew him away from the desk, back toward the corner. Kenzie and I followed, myself keeping a wary eye on the man and his redcap guards.

Back near the shelf with its awful contents, Annwyl faced Keirran again, taking both his hands. “Keirran, please,” she whispered, gazing into his eyes. “You can’t do this. I don’t want you bargaining your life away, not for me. The price is always too high. You don’t—”

He kissed her, stopping her arguments. Kenzie blinked, and I looked away, my face heating. Keirran didn’t seem to notice or care. Pulling back, he gazed down at Annwyl, his face angry, defiant and tender all at once.

“I love you,” he said, without a trace of embarrassment or hesitation. “Please, let me do this. I finally found a way to halt the Fade. Mr. Dust has something that can stop it. No price is too high for that.”

“A way to stop the Fade?” Annwyl looked stunned, and Keirran smiled at her.

“Yes,” he replied, brushing her hair back. “There is something that can halt it, Annwyl. If it will keep you here, if it will stop you from Fading, I will gladly pay the cost, whatever it might be.”

I didn’t like where this was going at all. Another cardinal rule of Faery: if something seemed too good to be true, it was. “What is it?” I asked, and Keirran’s gaze flicked to me. “This miracle cure that can stop the Fade,” I continued. “If it’s so wonderful, why don’t more of the fey know about it? Why is this place so difficult to find?”

He hesitated this time, and I narrowed my eyes. Kenzie, it appeared, had caught it, too. “Truth, Keirran,” she added, making him wince. “You owe it to Annwyl, before either of you agree to anything. She should know what’s going on. What’s the catch?”

“There is no catch,” Keirran said in a soft voice. Annwyl gazed up at him, and he turned back to her, lowering his head. “Mr. Dust offers a special kind of potent glamour that can temporarily halt the Fade,” he began. “He has several clients that are exiles, those banished from the Nevernever, but he has also started working with the Forgotten, now that they can no longer drain the magic of exiled fey. It’s distilled from the glamour of mortals, and taken in small, consistent amounts, it will provide the user with enough magic to live in the mortal world. However, the way he acquires it is...upsetting for some.”

“How?” I asked, not liking the sound of that at all. “What does he use to ‘acquire’ this glamour?”

“Fear” was the quiet response. “Fear is very powerful, and the stronger the fear, the more potent the glamour acquired from it. Most mortals don’t believe in the fey—they can’t see them, and they’ve stopped believing in monsters.” He swallowed. “Except one very select group.”

I felt ill and had to fight a very real urge to drive my fist into Keirran’s jaw. “You mean children,” I growled, remembering my own days as a toddler, seeing my closet door creak open, eyes peering at me from the darkness. “Little kids, before they grow up and forget about the monsters in their room. That’s where this ‘cure’ comes from, doesn’t it?”

He met my gaze, unrepentant. “I know. I know it’s horrible. But mortal children have been frightened by the fey and the things in the dark since time began. It’s nothing new. Why shouldn’t someone take advantage of that? Especially if it can save lives?” He turned from me then, drawing Annwyl close, his voice pleading. “I would do anything to save you,” he whispered. “If there was another way, someone else I could go to, I wouldn’t be here. But this is the only solution I could find, and I’ve searched the world over, looking for magic spells, scrolls, amulets, anything that would help. Nothing was powerful enough to stop the Fade.”