I snatch up the feather and keep it tight in my palm even after I lock up my apartment. I have this crazy fear I’ll somehow lose track of it. Its frost numbs my hand as I make my way to San Francisco’s equivalent of a lonely crossroads: the intersection of Commercial and Leidesdorff in late evening on a Sunday. Even without the feather, the walk over in short sleeves would chill me, and the narrow corridors of flat-faced buildings made of concrete and brick create even more of a wind tunnel. By the time I get there, I’ve got serious goosebumps. (And only some of them from the cold…)
But as I hoped, this part of town is helpfully free from curious eyes. It’s now after-hours in the Financial District and there’s nothing residential here—only the ass-ends of commercial buildings—and the one lonely restaurant a block away is closed for renovations. Even the traffic that might be tempted to turn in here is kept out by orange barricade cones on all sides. I have no idea if this particular fae tool comes with its own built-in stealth glamour, and the last thing I need is to wind up on someone’s Insta by casting magic in the open.
After checking for sure that no one is around, I throw the feather up in the air. It catches the breeze immediately, rising twenty, then thirty feet above my head, glistening inevening moonlight normally hidden behind the city’s glow. It descends, in twirls and spins, until it spectacularly unfurls, transforming from a thin, wispy plume into a stunning white hawk. The bird swoops directly over my head only to shoot up into the air again. Its tail feathers streak a dazzling trail of glistening snowflakes that land coolly on my face and raise even more goosebumps on my arms.
The hawk flaps down its massive wings once against its sides and disappears into the sky, winking out like a shooting star. And in the next heartbeat, the coldly beautiful elf prince in now-unblemished, shining plate mail stands on the corner next to me. I can’t help blinking in awe, and the elf can tell I’m impressed.
The bastard.
“I will admit, I did not expect to hear from you so soon,” he smirks, taking in my fancy club clothes. “Nice to see you actually dressed up for the occasion.” The pleasure leaves his eyes when they catch my bloody shoes and land on the angry purple marks on my neck. “Ah. Am I free to assume this isn’t a social call?”
Up to this point, the elf has been little more than a tremendous pain in my ass. But he wants to be my ally now, and I’ve learned enough from Stryker’s stories to not look that gift horse in the mouth. The fae are capricious and vain, but they can be very powerful, and I need that right now. I’ve stepped into big-league stuff, and I better act like it.
I bow from the waist and repeat what I rehearsed in my head, channeling every episode of Downton Abbey my mother forced me to watch.
“It is not, Prince Eirian. I do, in fact, require your assistance.” I right myself and meet his eyes. “The Vampire King has what he needs to complete a ritual to bring the corpse god, Savadeva—who he calls Ah Puch—into my world by midnight tonight. The completion of the spell will kill everyone in San Francisco within an hour, and many more shortly after that. This vampire already has an amulet with a drop of the god’s blood that gives him intelligence, along with the ability to control minds. I can resist that control, and I have a way to stop him, but I don’t have the strength to get close enough to cast it. It is my hope thatyoudo.”
I did not think the fae’s snow-white skin could get any more pale, but as I spoke, his face drained of its usual arrogance, and was replaced with barren frost. He stares at me in wintry silence before he speaks.
“If I recall correctly, the last time we met, you had a rather imposing Hunter by your side…”
I pinch my lips together. “I told him what I was. I’m on my own now.”
He flicks a glance to a space just above my shoulder as he considers my words. “I see. So, he no longer considers you a friend, then?”
“No. That’s why I need your help.”
His eyes return to me, cutting. “You are asking me to place myself against the magic of an Old God. That is an exceptionally large boon, Alvin Alonso. If Iwereto agree, what exactly is it you need to do to stop the ritual?”
“I need to get my hands on the watch again between the hours of eight and ten tonight. I have an incantationthat will free the Avatar of Knowledge. Without the Avatar, he can’t summon the god.”
His countenance becomes even more icy. “You lost it to him.”
“Yes,” I respond, ignoring his disappointment, and shoot him a pointed look, remembering how he pretended to be my boss to get the artifact for himself. “And, as I already told you, he is using children to fuel the working. We would need to not only stop the spell but save them as well. I am asking you to get me to the watch and get the kids out, safely. Both are non-negotiable. Are those things within your power?”
His lips form a thin line, and his body is unnaturally still. “I am familiar with this summoning ritual and the lethal magic it draws in. There are very few things that can kill my kind, but contact with the barrier between our worlds and Hell is one of them. Also, I have seen for myself that these particular vampires are formidable, likely because they tap into this god’s power.”
He raises his chin and his eyes glitter with primordial energies. “But ultimately, they are the husks of dead men, and I am a Prince of Winter.” A cold gust blasts over us, dramatically shifting his long, silver hair. “Yes, Alvin Alonso, I have the power to help you.”
I exhale a breath I didn’t even realize I was holding.
Of course, he’s not done. There’s still the other shoe to drop.
His expression hardens to ice. “But to do so would involve significant risk, and while my offer of friendship was sincere, I owe you no more favors.”
They say that when you sign a deal with the devil, youdo it with your own blood. I didn’t expect this pact to be any different. A flutter of anxiety bubbles up into my chest, but I pull fists to keep myself steady.
“I figured,” I say. “Name your price. I can’t get you the Avatar, but whatever else you want from me, I am prepared to give.”
His lip curls. “That’s a very dangerous offer to make to anyone, let alone a fae.”
“You know what’s at stake. You know I’m desperate. There’s no point in me pretending otherwise.”
A fleeting smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “You are showing more maturity and bravery than I gave you credit for. And happily for you, I am not unreasonable. I have seen what you can do, and fae politics being what they are, I have more than a few enemies. Someone with such a proficiency with fire could be very useful in a court of ice and snow. So here are my terms: if I succeed in getting you to the Avatar’s watch and saving those precious children, you will serve me as my Knight for one hundred years withunquestioningloyalty.”
Wuff. Even if I agree, I don’t know if I can actually do that. I know almost nothing about real fighting and have never even touched anything close to a sword. I have no idea if I can live a hundred years—up to now, I’ve aged like a normal human. And let’s not forget, Collin made it clear that my magic is bound up and essentially inaccessible to me.
But this is an elf prince. Keeping mortals alive for decades and accessing forbidden magic is probably something they learn in royal fae preschool. I get the feeling mypersonal limitations won’t be any obstacle for someone like him.
