Discoveries

discoveries

E nding the call, I sigh and run my fingers through my hair. The others are still in the bedroom helping the Prince’s new ‘project’ clean out the remnants of a foul member of my species. I don’t like or trust the woman, but she doesn’t seem like someone who deserves the filth I scented when I walked in there. I know the Society put her through hell for taking her vengeance, but I think if they figured out what we did within five seconds of being in place, they might have let her go with a slap on the wrist.

Magnus was a depraved, perverted motherfucker who obviously didn’t give a single fuck about the woman he asked to marry him.

I stepped out briefly to take a call from one of the commanders at the Palace. We check in frequently when situations evolve and though I often leave out major details about the Prince’s life for all of our sanity, they also keep me apprised of what’s going on in the Daybreak Court while we’re on this side of the Veil—especially when the information is as juicy as what Lorcan just shared with me.

A group of supes from a small town an hour from here entered our lands a few days ago, claiming to be on a vacation. That isn’t anything new, but they were accompanied by an unemerged supe, several alumnae of this college, and the son of a senator from this state. The Prince’s family did what they always do… send in the other princes and the king to feel out the honored guests. Lorcan said one of the tailors messed with a pair of be-spelled glasses she was wearing and that’s when I lost my temper.

A scandal with the Society would cause Liam to be called home and he would have that mischievous shit’s head.

I told Lorcan to find Fiannula and deal with the designer, then have the head of the royal guard call me. We need to figure out exactly how much trouble this idiot may have caused by skirting around the rules of the treaties. He said their party left for the Harvest Court this morning, so it’s possible I can contact one of the folks there to salvage things. I’m not sure how , of course, because we don’t even know if her little trick worked.

“Sweet Aed, help me untangle this before a dumbass tailor causes a fucking war with those tight assed supes,” I mutter as I head back into the former dragon’s den of smut.

“What’s going on, Kas? You look stressed,” Liam says as he cocks his head at me.

Shaking my head back in response, I lift a chest that stinks to high hell and back. “This thing needs to go , and I advise the professor to follow me downstairs to figure out what he kept inside of it.”

Morgana looks at me in horror as I heft the enormous thing up and turn towards the door. “That’s… person… sized.”

Fuck yes, it is, and it goddamn smells like it, too.

I could say that and send her running for the bathroom to cry, but I shrug. “Might be. There’s magic, though, so I need the prof.”

Liam catches my hesitation and grins. That motherfucker knows I chose not to be a dick to the woman, and he thinks it means I’m softening. I’m not, but as I said before, I don’t have to be needlessly cruel. I am often hesitant to get involved in such a volatile situation. Adding in the shenanigans of our relatives in Faerie means I’d prefer not to draw the scrutiny of anyone the Society has their eyes on.

“I’m coming, Kaspar,” Ignatius says as he stands and dusts off his pants. He was digging underneath the vast bed before we move it, making certain it wouldn’t uncover anything untoward.

I doubt we’re going to hide much from a woman as smart as Morgana, especially since we’re ridding the house of shit belonging to someone as depraved as Magnus. But that’s not my job to work out—the rest of these assholes can handle telling her what all the shit we find means. I’m good at lifting and carrying the heaviest shit out, not comforting some aggrieved ex-fiancé.

The bespectacled academic follows me out the door quietly, and until we get to the steps, he doesn’t say a word.

“That chest is trouble, right?”

My answer is a snort. “You could say that.”

“This was used for… punishment, you think?” The professor eyes the box with a curled lip and I nod.

“Likely. Whether it was sexual or plain control or both…. who knows? Sounds like the owner of this place deserved his death. It’s a coin toss. But look,” I murmur. Stooping, I flick open the small panels at the bottom of the head and foot of the chest to reveal the caged over mesh. “This is the breathing ventilation—at least, when he allowed it.”

Ignatius shudders and I have to hold back a chuckle. I always forget the supes closer to human—casters and the like—don’t have the same animal instincts as the rest of the supernaturals. Their senses aren’t as heightened, which is why he didn’t notice the smell, and their penchant for the dark rarely leaves the lighter shades of gray.

“This is barbaric, even for him,” he says with a sigh. “Why are you whispering?”

I snort. “I’m simply speaking in low tones, Professor. While the lady of this museum of the grotesque may not have super scenting unless her snakes come out, gargoyles and gorgons are known for excellent hearing. I do not believe she needs to hear this conversation.”

He gives me a begrudging look of respect, nodding. “Okay, so how do you know about this shit? Is the Prince…?”

“Fuck, no,” I grin as I feel along the seams of the lid to find where the catch is hidden. “Daybreak loves to promote the shiny, happy Fae persona of the Seelie, but there’s a ton of darkness there. If you’ve been with the court for a few centuries, you see more of this shit than you ever want to. However, Liam embodies what people perceive Daybreak to be. I’m not saying he has no kinks, but he’s not into the pitch black side.”

The professor lets out a breath slowly. “Good. Morgana likes to be in charge, but she also likes to be challenged. I believe her desire to be in control stems from whatever small portion of his evil Magnus showed her. The more we discover, the happier I find myself that she killed him before he had her legally under his thumb.”

I don’t know what to say about that—the dean doesn’t seem like a woman I’d enjoy seeing crushed, though.

“He would have destroyed her, eventually. They all do; Liam has a brother who enjoys breaking his toys.” Pressing my lips together, I realize I’ve said more than I should and turn back to the chest. We need to get it open to see if it simply needs to be cleansed—physically and magically—before disposal or if we have a much bigger problem on our hands.

“Don’t worry, man. I won’t tell her you have an iota of compassion. You can keep pretending you’re the one made of stone.” Ignatius laughs to himself, then scratches his chin. “Want me to bust it open yet?”

“Not yet. If you hit it just right, all our evidence gets destroyed.”

He frowns and tilts his head. “What evidence?”

Merciful Crone, fucking casters can be dim with politics.

“I have worked security for the royals for centuries, Ignatius. Since the Prince is taking a vested interest in Morgana, I have to strategize how to get her out of whatever the fuck mess she and the hockey player are in. Thus, as we clean up, gathering evidence of her ex’s depravity might give us leverage with your Society. It could get them to back off her punishments and possibly remove the target from her back. That is in my best interest because I won’t have to take a metaphorical bullet for the Prince if he’s caught in the crossfire somehow.”

He blinks, pondering that for a moment, then grins. “Okay. I’m on board. We get this damn thing open, photograph the proof, then we’ll get rid of it. That about it?”

I nod, continuing to slide my fingertips around the edges as I circle the nasty wood and iron prison. “Hopefully sooner rather than later. Luckily for us, I’m not allergic to the iron in the damn thing like Liam would be.”

As soon as the words leave my mouth, it hits me and by the horrified look on Ignatius’ face, he gets it, too. This is a prison specifically made to weaken types of Fae—it’s constructed with far more metal than necessary for its design. I crack my neck, pushing the fury of my dragon back as I think about smaller beings from the other side of the Veil.

“If he wasn’t dead, I’d kill the son of a bitch myself,” I mutter. Suddenly, I have a lot more respect for the woman in the house. Obviously, this fuckwit dragon was well versed in magic—perhaps even a hybrid—and she took him out all by herself. The hunter in me has to appreciate the skill it had to have taken to locate, plan, and execute an operation of that difficulty by herself.

“Get this thing open or I’m blowing it up,” the professor growls in agreement.

Done with being careful, I allow my dragon to press against my skin just enough to bring forth my claws. Slipping them under the lid, I give it a hard yank, wood splinters and I have to turn my face away for a moment, but as soon as I lift the lid, the stench gets worse. A sigh of relief escapes unbidden when I realize there isn’t an actual dead being in the trunk; it’s simply been used for captivity without ever being cleaned once.

At least, I’m assuming that from the smell.

“Jesus fuck, what an evil asshole,” Ignatius says as he chokes on the unignorable rot coming from the wooden cage. “This is pure filth. He could have had anyone under his thumb scrub it, but he chose not to.”

“Another method of control,” I say as I bend to examine the inside. I’m holding my breath now, but dragons excel at that shit, so we’re good. “I don’t think this was just a sex toy; I think he used it to teach people lessons. It probably had enchantments on it when he was alive that kept various beings from using powers to escape. This is how he scared the entire fucking campus during his reign. This and likely other just as sinister shit.”

“Do we tell her? It might ease her conscience.” The professor is snapping pictures of the disgusting prison with his phone, pausing occasionally to turn away and get fresh air.

“Not yet. I’ll let Liam know. We need to check with all the courts to see if there are missing ex-pats or visa students they’re searching for. A supe using this has no qualms about killing or letting go of the broken survivors.”

I have to be careful not to raise red flags with my queries, though.

The visitors flitting about Faerie with a spell broken by one of our court make this tricky. If we draw too much attention to our court from the Society, they’ll delve deeper into our treatment of guests and then… Neither Liam nor I wish to be called home for good. We enjoy the Veil’s delights and come and go as we please. Plus, Liam is slated to be the newest diplomat from our Court when he graduates, which saves him from some half-assed political marriage bullshit. His parents will allow him latitude to find someone who might be more advantageous here rather than a waif from Midnight or something.

This asshole dragon is fucking shit up even from the grave and if I have to help Morgana stop him, I’ll happily sign on to the Magic School Bus for a bit.