Iron & Velvet (Kate Kane, Paranormal Investigator #1) Read online

  He laid the edge of one sword across my throat and drew the other back with its point lowered towards my eyes. Poser.

  “Now farez wel.” He was still smiling.

  Then Maeve shouted something in the ancient language I’d heard her use before. The King of the Court of Love was dragged across the room and pinned to his own throne, his swords clattering to the floor at my feet. Maeve was standing with one arm raised as if she was holding him back, the bloody patterns on her skin writhing and reforming as she chanted. Sweat was pouring down her face and mingling with the markings. I probably didn’t have much time.

  I grabbed my sword, ran across the room, and swung for his neck. Gasping with effort, he raised an arm to protect himself, and I severed his hand at the wrist. This unfortunately left his head intact. He gave a cry of fury, maggots and filth oozing from the ragged stump. I brought my sword back for a second try, but he tore himself free and punched me in the face with his good hand.

  I stumbled backwards, pain and the shock of impact thudding through my head. For a moment, I couldn’t focus. When I could see again, he’d recovered one of his swords and was turning to Maeve. Roses reached down from the walls and twined around her wrists and ankles. She gave a shriek as they drew tight.

  I dashed forwards and swung my sword straight at his head. He brought his blade over his shoulder and parried without even looking.

  Maeve screamed again.

  Okay. New plan. New plan.

  I really didn’t want to see someone torn apart by roses.

  The King of the Court of Love turned to face me.

  Shit. Shit. Shit. What was I supposed to do? If I ran at him, he’d stab me. But if I stayed here fighting, Maeve would get ripped to bits. She’d closed her eyes and started chanting. I had no idea what that meant, but I hoped it was good.

  I feinted, just a bit impressed I knew how, and while that had his attention, I darted sideways. He countered hard, trying to drive me back, so I stood my ground, knocked his blade aside and punched him in the ribs. He tried to pummel me in the face, so I dodged back and around, closing the distance between me and Maeve. I hacked into the roses that were holding her right arm, and then I had an angry faery lord to handle.

  We traded blows, but I was tiring. Magic swords and mystical crash courses were all very well, but I was still a mortal, and I was going to fall over long before I got through his guard.

  Maeve worked her knife free and starting cutting into the roses. Shallow wounds opened and closed across the King’s arms. Then she managed to free herself and made a bolt for the door.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” I yelled.

  “I’m bringing reinforcements.”

  She stood in the doorway with arms outstretched, murmuring something in the language I didn’t speak, and the thorns reached down to embrace her, sinking hungrily into her flesh.

  “I just got you out of that,” I protested.

  The King swung a heavy blow at my head, and when I dragged my sword up to block, the fucker kicked me in the gut. I stumbled backwards, gasping for breath, and he turned to Maeve.

  “Oh no, you don’t,” I wheezed, staggering after him. “Fight me, you immortal tosser.”

  And just in case he wasn’t getting the message, I grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked him backwards. He spun round and tried to stab me, but we were too close and the angle was all wrong. I knocked his sword aside and got the fuck out of the way.

  “Ich wax wroth,” he announced.

  He wasn’t kidding. He wrothed me all the way across the room with a relentless barrage of strikes I just managed to fend off. My arms had pretty much had it, and the rest of me wasn’t too happy, either. Backing me against the throne, he rained blows down on me until my legs gave up and I collapsed onto it. Well, at least I was going to die in state. He brought his sword crashing down, and I threw myself sideways. The blade split the throne in half, showering me in lilies and marble dust.

  The King of the Court of Love walked up the ruins of the throne and balanced on the arm like some crazy bird. I tried to stand, but couldn’t. He slipped down, grabbed my collar, and drew his blade back to strike.

  There was a whirl of shadows, and Kauri pulled me clear. Then Aeglica’s hand closed round the King’s sword, ripped it from his grasp, and cast it aside. He seized the faery lord and threw him across the room. Kauri helped me to my feet and bamfed off into the fight. Since they seemed to have it covered, I made a dash—okay, a hobble—for Julian.

  She was bound to the wall with a series of fine golden chains, pretty to look at, but not exactly that secure. I broke them one at a time, and Julian fell into my arms.

  She stirred very slightly. “My hero. You look hot with a sword.”

  “Are you all right?”

  “It’s fine . . . you got here in time.”

  I gathered her up and turned. Maeve was hanging in the doorway, dead or unconscious—I hoped unconscious. Aeglica, Kauri, and the King of the Court of Love were beating seven kinds of hell out of each other in the middle of the room. The King was fast, but not as fast as Kauri, and strong, but not as strong as Aeglica. He had technique, but Aeglica had a thousand years of kicking the living shit out of things. It would have been fascinating to watch if I hadn’t been exhausted, at risk of death, and ankle deep in sewer water.

  The King of the Court of Love was facing off against Aeglica, throwing out strikes that the Prince of Swords was casually batting aside with his forearm. Kauri rushed him from behind in a blur of claws and darkness. Without even looking, the King spun his sword in his hand and thrust under his own arm, driving the blade deep between Kauri’s ribs with flawless precision. You almost had to admire the poncy fuck.

  Kauri slumped to the ground like an extremely well-dressed sack of potatoes, and Aeglica grabbed the King by the throat and hurled him against his own broken throne.

  What happened next was really not pretty, and I had a front-row seat.

  Aeglica strode across the room, caught the King by the hair, and pounded his head repeatedly into the shattered marble, while the King clawed, scrabbled, and kicked.

  I was never drinking a smoothie again.

  Finally, the King of the Court of Love went limp, and Aeglica stood, his hand dripping with glistening fluid, and slowly backed away.

  “Is it dead?” Kauri tottered to his feet like Bambi.

  “I do not know,” said Aeglica.

  There was a sudden flash of movement, and the King of the Court of Love twisted like some kind of horrible lizard, shot across the room, and rose to his feet. He shook out his hair. Apart from his severed hand and the cut I’d left in his side, which was still weeping, he looked completely unharmed. Though still pretty wroth.

  Aeglica blinked. “Hmm.”

  The King looked up and smiled. And then the ceiling fell in.

  Chunks of jagged masonry tumbled down on top of us. Kauri slowly unravelled into shadow, and Aeglica just stood there and took it, but I didn’t have that luxury. I picked up Julian and zigzagged for the archway where Maeve was hanging. It was a close thing. I was tired and carrying a semi-conscious vampire, and the floor was still slick with mushed petals and greyish water. Rocks crashed down on either side of me, almost shaking me off my feet, and the more that fell, the harder it was to find a way across. At last, I pressed myself into the doorway and clung on while the room shook. Maeve, at least, was still breathing. I cut her down, and laid her and Julian in a pile on the floor. They’d have looked almost cute if they weren’t both nearly dead.

  When it was over, we were in a tattered, half-flooded rose garden strewn with filth and debris. A glittering alien starscape stretched above us. I think I preferred the sewers.

  The King of the Court of Love turned slowly to face Aeglica, sweeping his one remaining hand in a regal gesture. “Of þis regne”—his voice seemed to come from everywhere at once—“I am þe kynge, blod-þef.”

  Aeglica met his gaze, expressionless. “I have stood a
gainst the glory of kings.”

  Light pierced the distant horizon as the sun began to rise.

  Well, fuck.

  Kauri tumbled out of the air and collapsed next to me. He looked up at the sky. “Now that’s just cheating.”

  The King of the Court of Love snatched up his sword and advanced on Aeglica, laughing. Aeglica brought his arm up to block, and the blade went straight through his hand. He staggered back and the King redoubled and ran him through. Aeglica caught the King behind the head and wrestled him to the ground, but the faery lord yanked his sword lose and wriggled free. Aeglica pursued him, but he was slowing.

  The sun was almost at its peak, shining on the dirty water and the rotting roses that filled the vast open sewer that was the new Court of Love. Midday was coming unnaturally fast. I had a feeling that when it got here, it’d be here to stay. And this was why you didn’t fight faery lords on their home turf.

  The King drew his blade across Aeglica’s cheek with contemptuous grace, leaving a deep gash that didn’t heal. Aeglica slammed his fist into his opponent, knocked him to the ground again, and stamped heavily on his face. The King of the Court of Love rose unharmed.

  Fuck, I was going to have to do something.

  I gathered the last of my strength, waited for the King to turn his back on me, and charged. He pirouetted, flicked my sword away, raised his point, and stabbed me.

  Oh, dear.

  It didn’t hurt nearly as much as I thought it should, which was how I knew it was really really bad.

  I sank to my knees. The King of the Court of Love smiled down at me.

  “Ye fighte wyth hert, Sir Knyght.”

  Aeglica rose up behind him, grabbed his sword arm, and yanked it back across his neck, holding the faery lord immobile against his body. The King struggled but, for the moment, Aeglica had him.

  “Strike.”

  I didn’t hesitate. I took up my sword and plunged it hilt-deep into the heart of the King of the Court of Love.

  A look of complete horror crossed his face.

  And then he dissolved around the sword into a slurry of rotting petals and pus. His remains drifted away in the water, which ran suddenly clear. That left Aeglica, bleeding from a dozen cuts, my sword buried in his chest.

  I pulled my blade free, and he sank slowly to the ground.

  “Oh, shit.” I didn’t know what else to say. I was pretty sure I’d just killed him.

  He bowed his head. “I am world-weary.” His skin had grown tight over his bones and was crumbling to ash. “Ungleaming is the golden hall. The warriors are lost to the shadows.” He closed his eyes. “The exile cannot withstand his fate.”

  And then there was nothing left of Aeglica Thrice-Risen but dust.

  I crawled over to where I’d left Kauri, Julian, and Maeve.

  Kauri sat up and stared me. “Fucking hell, you killed . . . everyone.”

  “And probably me. And all of us if we don’t get out of here.”

  I didn’t know what was happening to the Court of Love, but it seemed to be falling apart around us. The roses were rotting away to nothing and the Victorian brickwork was crumbling and being swept away with the sewage. Grass and trees were pushing up through the shattering flagstones.

  Maeve’s eyes flickered open. “Did we win? Or am I dead?”

  “Hard to tell at the moment.”

  Since I seemed to be wasting such a lot of my blood, I wet my fingers in it and pressed them against Julian’s lips. She lapped them clean and opened her eyes. She still looked uncomfortably like a corpse, but at least she was moving. “Did we win?”

  “Yes and no.”

  She sniffed the air. “You’re bleeding. Heavily.”

  “That’s part of the ‘and no.’ The King’s dead, Aeglica’s dead, I’m probably dead, and we’re trapped in a crumbling faery realm with no way to get back to London. So we won, but it was on a technicality.”

  She twined her fingers with mine. “Don’t die on me, Kate.” She glared at Maeve. “You’re a witch, do something.”

  “Fine,” snapped Maeve. “Bring me a virgin, a silver bowl, and a copper dagger, and I’ll see what I can do.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “So am I.”

  “If you’re no use to me alive,” drawled Julian, “I’m sorely tempted to eat you.”

  “Can we not do this now, please?” I interrupted. “Maeve saved your life and you’re not eating anybody.” I looked hopefully around. “Now, does anybody have any magical healing powers that don’t require a virgin sacrifice? Or failing that, a way to get home?”

  Maeve shook her head. “I don’t know where we are anymore, or how we got here.”

  “Aren’t we in the Court of Love?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  Kauri looked round at the wild forest we were sitting in. “Not unless your idea of love is strictly al fresco, honey.”

  “Oh, fuck.” This place looked too familiar. “We’re in the Deepwild.”

  Maeve gazed at me for a second. “Ah. You’re a fecking changeling, aren’t you? I should’ve guessed when you tried to rip my fecking throat out.”

  “I’m not a changeling, more of a dumpling. My mother dumped me on my father’s doorstep and buggered off back to Faerie. But that still doesn’t explain what we’re doing here.”

  “You staged a coup, Princess,” explained Maeve. “I’m pretty sure we’re still where we were, it’s just part of the Deepwild now.”

  “If people don’t starting using words I understand,” said Julian, “I’m definitely going to eat someone.”

  Maeve sighed. “As far as Faerie is concerned, Kate is her mother. So when she killed the King of the Court of Love, she got his power and his kingdom.”

  “That’s messed up and I wish I hadn’t asked.” Julian rose unsteadily to her feet. “Now how do we get out?”

  “We ask her.” Maeve pointed.

  I turned, and there was my mother. She was barefoot, wrapped in animal skins, and wearing a crown of teeth and bones. Frankly, she looked a lot like me, only scarier. In one hand, she was holding her stone dagger, and in the other, a dripping, still-beating heart. She smiled.

  “You have done well, daughter.” Her voice was strong and clear—wild things and forgotten places.

  “You know I’m probably going to die now, right?”

  “Perhaps.”

  “Thanks for your concern.” I didn’t like to ask, because owing my mother a favour was unlikely to end well, but I didn’t see that I had any other option. “Can you at least get us home?”

  She thought about it for a moment. Then she held out her arm and a sharp-beaked, yellow-eyed bird swooped down and alighted on her wrist.

  “Follow the hawk.” She cast it aloft and walked away, the forest closing behind her.

  “Let’s go,” I said, and fell over.

  When I opened my eyes again, Kauri was carrying me and my sword, and Julian was holding my hand. I was in too much pain to protest. The forest went by in a blur of green. I could hear the splash of footsteps in water, and then came the chill of walking between worlds. Dark sky, familiar stars, the reek of the Thames, and the chill of a London night.

  “Ring Elise.” I flapped weakly at my phone. It had been in my jacket pocket this whole time, and while I’d been knocked on my arse, smacked in the head, and stabbed in the gut, my top half had come out okay.

  “Who’s Elise?” asked Julian.

  “New assistant. You’ll like her. She’s hot.” I blacked out again.

  When I opened my eyes, I was lying in Julian’s arms, staring at the inside of my car. I hurt. I hurt a lot. I turned my head to look at Julian’s face. She seemed to be crying.

  She squeezed my hand. “Don’t try to move and don’t die.”

  “Where are we going?”

  Elise spoke from the driver’s seat. “Hampstead Heath, Miss Kane.”

  “I think I’d like to go to hospital.”

  “That was initially m
y suggestion, but Miss Maeve believed it would be more efficacious if you were taken to Miss Nimue.”

  I turned my head a bit and saw that Maeve was crumpled in the passenger seat, smeared in blood and filth. All in all, Operation Confront a Faery Lord in His Lair could have gone better.

  “I’d really like to go to hospital.”

  Julian lifted the hand she was holding and kissed it. “It’s going to be all right. I promise.”

  I wasn’t convinced, but then I passed out.

  Eventually, I drifted back to wakefulness. Elise was carrying me across a field, and Julian was still holding my hand.

  “Hospital?” I asked.

  Elise put me down on a bench.

  “Not bench. Hospital.”

  And then Nim was leaning over me. “Shut up, Kate.” She began undoing my shirt.

  “I’m not really in the mood,” I told her. “And my girlfriend’s right there.”

  “Shut up, Kate,” said Nim and Julian together.

  Nimue put her hand right over the place I’d been stabbed, sending a fresh wave of pain through me. Then I felt a warmth radiating from her palm and flowing into me, taking all the pain away.

  I passed out. Again.

  And when I came to, I felt absolutely fine.

  Huh.

  I sat up on the bench. I was on Hampstead Heath, overlooking a slightly crappy lake with a horizon of bushes and high-rises. My girlfriend, my ex-girlfriend, my girlfriend’s ex-girlfriend, and my new assistant were all staring at me. I closed my shirt urgently. It was soaked with blood, but the skin underneath looked like it had never had any sharp bits of metal rammed through it. My thigh felt better too, and the cuts on my arms had gone.

  Huh.

  I pulled down the brim of my hat. “So this is awkward.”

  “On the contrary, Miss Kane,” said Elise, “the operation appears to have been a complete success.”