Chapter 1
Gideon
It was August, so in London, it was raining. The rhythmic patter had kept the pace of the day and perfumed the streets with petrichor. It could be heard through the roofs and against the windows. The rain song penetrated through even the shield and glamour1 protecting Blackthorn Correctional.
Beneath the dome, the officer on duty casually checked his watch, then resumed his paperwork. His kind were known by many names throughout Turkey, Serbia, and Bulgaria, but he personally preferred the one used in Greece: kallikantzaros. Human myth painted them as hobgoblins, terrorizing children and adults alike on the twelve days of Christmas. In reality, he felt more terrorized by the amount of administrative paperwork the past two centuries had presented. He was a hairy, sharp-featured creature, from his nose to his ears, but like most of his ilk, his eyes were the keenest. At his best, he caught small details, the delicacies of fingerprints, and the deliberate wording of warrants. At his worst, he did not bother to check. However, if the officer were to break his routine of two hundred years of worst days, he would still fail to catch the figure darkening his doorway.
“Detective Inspector Balaskas?”
The kallikantzaros2 flinched, one knee slamming under his desk beforeboth hooves clapped down on the floor. The resulting jolt nearly knocked the cup of tea beside his paperwork clean over. Long, spindly fingers caught it, righted it, then interlaced on the desktop. He cleared his throat and smoothed his uniform, but the tufted tail still twitched behind him nervously. “My lord Blackthorn.” His voice was strained. “Your secretary sent word you might be coming.”
The shadow took form as he stepped farther into the light. An elf of towering stature, Gideon Blackthorn was an unnerving facsimile of the late Erlking. He was spindly, almost gaunt, pale as the moon, and cloaked in night and shadow as one would tailor velvet around themselves. He seemingly produced a file from the darkness and held it out expectantly. “Then I trust you have already begun the preparations.”
Balaskas took the folder with a tight-lipped smile. “Discharge paperwork is nearly ready, I was simply waiting for the official request.” He opened the file, glanced at the signatures already in place, and began signing the bottom of each page of the stack in front of him.
“Have you woken Hemlock yet?”
Balaskas froze. He didn’t dare meet Gideon’s eyes, certain he’d misheard. His mouth felt dry. “You’re here forher?”
The shift in Gideon’s expression was minute, but no less a threat; a delicate tightening of the mouth and jaw as the muscles of his face tensed.
The menacing silence threatened to choke out even the comforting patter of rain.
When at last the Archfey spoke it was softly, so that Balaskas needed to lean forward to hear him. “You confessed to receiving the missive from my office, did you not?”
Balaskas swallowed. “Yes, Lord Blackthorn.”
“And we both witnessed you signing the file I just handed you.”
He’d be fired. That was the best scenario. He could only hope to be fired. “Yes, Lord Blackthorn.”
Gideon nodded with what only a fool would mistake for friendly understanding. “Are you illiterate, Detective Inspector?”
“My lord?”
“You can read, can you not?” When the kallikantzaros failed to answer immediately, his tone softened, and the threat in the air sharpened. “You possess the skill to comprehend the written word?”
His throat was impossibly dry and he barely resisted the desperate urge to reach for his tea. “I can read, my lord.”
“Good, good.” Two sets of fangs framed the edges of the Archfey’s smile. “I feared an egregious oversight might have marred this establishment’s reputation.” A meaningful silence fell, and because Balaskas dared not break it himself, Gideon continued. “Would it be correct to say then that you made the decisionnotto fully read either article, then? Despite one requiring you to pen your verynamein oath that you had?”
Gideon could feel the inspector’s heart pound against his rib cage. Nothing important ever came through the night shift. For nearly two hundred years Balaskas had sat behind that desk and been so mired in routine, a quick scan and sign was all that had been required of him. He floundered for an explanation that did not end in his imminent demise. “I did not think to insult Your Lordship by questioning—”
“Read it.” Gideon spoke quietly—deliberately. “Now.” Archfey, though slow to anger, had a way of strangling the air with a mere micro expression.
Balaskas found it difficult to take the breath needed to do as he was bid. “By decree of the Five, the changeling known as Avery Hemlock, charged with high treason, being given no pardon or mercy, is to be released into the custody of the Winter Court to do service for the realm and kingdom.” He swallowed. “And it is signed by every member of the Council of Winter.”
A mirthless smile punctuated the staccato of Gideon’s words. “Validate it.”
His hand was shaking now as he pulled open a drawer, fumbling inside until he located the charm he sought: a hagstone.3 It was small enough to fit into his palm, smooth to the touch, and at almost center was a near perfectly round hole straight through. He held it up to his left eye before peering down over the page. He did not expect to find forgeries or glamours, but he felt compelled to take his time. Perhaps in this he could find redemption. Perhaps he might lose his job but keep his life. He checked twice, searching for any glimmer or hint of magic—any complex or well-hidden charm that could be responsible for what appeared to be the council releasing a traitor to probation. No matter how he scoured, moving the hagstone in and out of his line of sight to assure no changes to wording, he found nothing. These documents were official. A decree with the force of all five representatives of the courts on this side of the veil, and notarized by the Council of Winter. He turned the stone’s gaze on Gideon himself. Nothing. Though the mere terror of his presence gave little doubt, the hagstone confirmed he was all he appeared to be. Balaskas lowered the hagstone and forced another smile. “All in order, Your Lordship.”
“Do not permit hearsay that so much as suggests otherwise.” The words were like a knife to Balaskas’s throat. “Hemlock will be under the direct reign and protection of the council. She is not to be meddled with; she is outside your jurisdiction,do you understand?”
He grasped the Archfey’s meaning, but Balaskas couldn’t confidently say he understood.
“You will honor your government, Detective Inspector.”
The kallikantzaros nodded so vigorously his ears wobbled.
