Chapter 1

ONE

“You’re lying.”

The man sitting across from me uttered the words in a low, rumbling growl that reverberated through the table, making me wonder whether my source had been entirely mistaken.

Faris Lansgrave was supposedly an earth elemental—capable of manipulating dirt and stone with little more than a thought. Basically, an earthquake in human form. But between his voice, his mountain-sized bulk, and his full brown beard, I would have pegged him in a moment for a bear shifter. Grizzly, most likely. And from the way he was glaring at me, I was half convinced he was about to change shape, charge over the table, and tear me apart for daring to bend the truth in his presence.

Was he hungry? I hoped he wasn’t hungry.

I met my prospective employer’s gaze as coolly as I dared, and reminded myself that shapeshifters always had amber eyes, while this giant was glaring at me out of green ones. He wasn’t a shifter, and therefore couldn’t actually identify me or my magic by smell.

So how did he know I was lying?

“I don’t know what makes you think so,” I countered, keeping my tone level and my hands folded calmly in my lap. No panic here. I was exactly who I claimed to be—a homeless, itinerant half-fae looking for somewhere to belong. After all, the courts weren’t always kind to those with human ancestry. “It’s true that I’m not telling you everything, but we only met five minutes ago and everyone has secrets.”

For example, I wasn’t ready to announce that I’d driven six hundred miles in a stolen car to get here, sleeping at rest stops and eating out of vending machines to avoid leaving any trail. Employers tended to frown on that sort of thing.

Nor was I going to tell him that this place was my last hope. If I couldn’t somehow convince the scowling, suspicious owner of The Portal to give me a chance—and a job—I was out of options.

Out of money, out of ideas, out of everything except bone-deep cussed human stubbornness. I was also running out of places to hide my desperate little group of refugees.

Faris Lansgrave was the one person who might be able to protect us from what was coming, so I was willing to do whatever was necessary to convince him I was worth taking a chance on. Persuade, wheedle, grovel, probably even bend the truth… more than I already had.

“The important thing is, I’m willing to do anything,” I told him, continuing to meet his gaze squarely, as if I had nothing to hide. I didn’t know much about what was required to keep a nightclub running, but surely there would be the usual selection of menial tasks—like mopping puke off the bathroom floors or washing endless numbers of shot glasses. “I’m available to work any and all hours, and I don’t need days off.”

Unfortunately, this only seemed to make him more suspicious.

“Why?”

It was a fair question, but also the one I could least afford to answer. “Why what?” I kept my expression innocent and slightly confused, while internally sorting through the bizarre and frequently unbelievable narrative that made up my life, wondering what was safe to tell him. Wondering which unpleasant detail might distract him enough that he would leave the rest of my past alone.

Unfortunately, my search came up empty. The things that were safe to share, he wouldn’t believe, and the parts he would believe… Yeah, I didn’t trust him that far. This particular earth elemental was not just a club owner. Not just a jaw-droppingly powerful and influential member of Oklahoma City’s Idrian population.

My source claimed Faris Lansgrave was one of the original survivors of the fall of Idria. He appeared to be in his late forties, but he’d actually come through the gateways from Idria to Earth over fifty years ago to rebuild a life here among the startled and suspicious human residents. He hadn’t survived this long by being gullible or naive. Besides being ridiculously huge, he was also several hundred years old and possibly the most powerful earth elemental in North America.

Plus, there was the real reason I was here—the rumors that suggested he’d built this place as a haven. The only potential haven for people like me.

“Why should I bother with you?” Faris asked, forcing me to suppress a wince at his bluntness. “You appear to be human, but you clearly have power of some kind, or you wouldn’t be here. You have no valid ID, and you can’t give me any references. You have no connections to anyone—at least none you’re willing to claim—and you’re giving off evasion and desperation so strongly, they can probably sense it all the way to Kansas. Everything about you suggests I’m going to regret agreeing to this meeting. So how about you stop with the innocent act and give me one—just one—solid reason not to throw you out of my bar.”

Yup, he’d pegged me within moments. A guy like Faris could probably see a con artist coming from miles away, which meant my chances of success were dwindling by the moment. Just as they had everywhere else.

I was down to my last card, so I played it with everything I had.

“You want the truth?” I tilted my head and met his gaze without flinching. “What if the truth is something you don’t actually want to hear? What if it’s something you won’t want to believe?” Those were really just rhetorical questions. I knew better than to share the gritty details of my past with anyone. “Sometimes, even if we tell the truth, it sounds more like a lie. And whether you choose to believe me or not, everything I’m hiding is for the sake of someone else’s safety. I might need a job, but that doesn’t mean I know how far I can trust you with the people I care about.”

If anything, that brown beard bristled even harder. “You’re going to have to do better than that.” The words were uttered in a deep, threatening tone, but they weren’t a direct dismissal, so I clung to hope. “Because that blade cuts both ways. This place is neutral ground. My customers rely on discretion, so I need to know that my employees won’t stab me in the back. And frankly? You look like the stabbing kind.”

Well, that was just rude. I’d only stabbed that one person that one time. And he’d definitely been asking for it.

“It’s the fae thing, isn’t it?” I made the question a reproachful one. I’d heard Faris wasn’t a big fan, but fae blood was the easiest explanation for a twenty-six-year-old with pure white hair. I definitely didn’t look like a full-blooded fae, with their gray skin and hair, but I’d passed for half easily enough over the past six months.

“No,” he informed me dryly. “No matter what you may have heard, I don’t actually have a vendetta against every fae on the planet. I have my enemies and my reasons, but in your case, it’s the fact that you walked all the way around the table so you could sit facing the exit. Your clothes are baggy enough to conceal any number of weapons, you checked under the other tables to make sure there was no one there, and you keep your hands hidden so I can’t see what they’re doing. You might think you look harmless, but frankly, you’re an amateur, and I’m not buying it.”

Oops. I had good reasons for all my paranoid habits, but I hadn’t actually expected him to notice, let alone interpret them as a security risk. Clearly my source had been telling the truth—there was more to Faris than grumpy magical nightclub owner or walking earthquake. He was both dangerous and perceptive, and I was trapped in this tiny room with him, alone. If he decided I was a threat, my body would likely disappear as thoroughly as the records of my ordinary human existence.

There was just one more thing to try, and since I truly had nothing more to lose…

“Okay,” I agreed, letting out a sigh and lifting my hands from my lap to place them deliberately on the table. “How’s this? I escaped from a fae prison about six months ago, and I’ve been in hiding ever since. Last week, I drove across three states in a stolen SUV with Fae diplomatic plates, but the gas and the money ran out, and I have nowhere else to go. I have no documents, no proof of my identity. My own people are dead, I can’t go to the Courts, and I need to eat. A friend told me that there was a place here for those who don’t fit in anywhere else, and that I should come to you if I was truly desperate. So here I am, wondering if he made a mistake or whether things have changed since the last time I saw him.”

Faris stared at me across the table, as if truly seeing me for the first time. His expression promised murder if he didn’t like my next answer.

“Which friend?”

Huh. Somehow, he was more bothered by the idea that someone knew about his clandestine activities than the “escaped prisoner who committed car theft” part of my story.

I was pretty sure that “friend” had given me a fake name, but for some reason, it seemed important to prove that I couldn’t be bulldozed that easily.

“He didn’t give me permission to share that information,” I said firmly.

“Even if I promised you a job in exchange for his name?”

Hah. I wasn’t falling for that one. “Especially not then,” I retorted. I might not know where Shane Isaacson was, but I owed him enough that I wasn’t going to endanger his life if I could help it. The half-goblin bounty hunter had once shared my prison. He’d helped keep me sane for those first few months, then found me many years later, shortly after I’d finally broken out. I suspected he might even have had a hand in our escape, but he wasn’t the type to invite personal questions. Instead, he’d given me direction. Hope. Told me everything he could about Idria and its people so I would have half a chance of surviving.

I’d known a little, of course, even before my regrettable acquaintance with the fae, but only what every kid was taught in school. We knew that the world of Idria had been connected to Earth for millennia by elusive magical gateways, but that it had mysteriously collapsed about fifty years ago, leaving its survivors as refugees among the humans of Earth.

Shapeshifters, wildkin, elementals, and fae… They’d settled down in their new home and carved out lives for themselves, for the most part peacefully, disguising themselves with glamour and generally clinging to enclaves of their own kind, ruled by Courts with their own sovereigns and nobility.

Or so the textbooks said.

The textbooks lied. The truth was, they weren’t always peaceful, and they didn’t always keep to themselves—my life was proof of that.

Faris was still eying me with evident annoyance. “If you’re aware of my disagreements with the fae, why did you lie about being one?”

So he did know that part was a lie. I had no idea how, but every moment he hesitated to throw me out was an opportunity—to learn what he was looking for and adapt. And since he seemed oddly more comfortable with my defiance than my evasion, I decided to answer honestly.

“It’s what I look like,” I replied with a shrug. “And it’s what everyone seems to assume if I don’t say otherwise. If no one will believe the truth, why not give them a lie that they’ll find easier to swallow?”

If I was truly half fae, I probably could have used glamour to hide my bizarre appearance. But glamour wasn’t one of my “gifts,” so there was no magical way to hide that I’m other—not exactly human, but impossible to categorize. I’d had to resort to other, more human methods.

My oversized clothing wasn’t intended to conceal weapons, but to make me look smaller than I actually am. Less noticeable and less of a threat, though my height and build are just about average. If you don’t look like you can afford clothes that fit, most people tend to ignore you.

Typically, I also wore long sleeves and a hat to cover my skin and hair. After years locked away from the sun, my naturally tanned skin had a grayish cast that made me look sick, and after six months of lean rations, my features were slightly gaunt. The hair I’d tried to dye, but it refused to take color, so I was stuck with it. Just like I was stuck with the eyes. They used to be plain brown, but now if you catch them in the wrong light, they glow a little—the magic lurking there refusing to be contained.

So if Faris had noticed any or all of these anomalies, he would have demanded an explanation, and fae seemed easiest to swallow.

“What are your skills?”

The question startled me for a moment, because it almost sounded like the owner of The Portal wasn’t going to kick me back out into the street like a stray puppy.

I pasted on a confident look that was as much a lie as my fae blood, though I knew my answer to this question wasn’t likely to do me any favors.

“What skills are you looking for?” I met those fierce green eyes steadily. “I’ve never worked in a bar or a nightclub before, but I’m strong for my size, and a quick study. If you need crowd control, I’ve had a bit of training in hand-to-hand combat, and if you’re looking for someone to do overtime, I don’t quit when the days get long.”

And just in case the rumors of his clandestine activities were true… “I’m also a fast runner, a good climber, and I’m not afraid of heights or enclosed spaces. If you need a liaison, I’m excellent at understanding and blending in with humans. I have a trained memory, and”—I paused deliberately to emphasize my next words—“I know how to keep my mouth shut.”

I left off a few. Like lock picking, but no prospective employer wants to hear about that. Probably not even one like Faris, whose mysterious underground organization probably meant he was involved in at least a few illegal activities. Maybe I could save that revelation for after he trusted me a little more.

“Like I said, I don’t know anything about serving food or drink,” I continued, “but I’m a fast learner, and I’m willing to take whatever job you’ll give me. Cleaning toilets, sweeping floors, washing dishes, you name it. You might say my best skill at the moment is… desperation.”

It was no less than the truth. Four futures might depend on whether Faris was willing to give me a chance.

The earth elemental unfolded his arms. One hand rested on the table, while the other stroked his beard, as if in thought.

“A skill list like that, and you can’t go to the courts?” Those green eyes seemed to stare right through me. “Who are you trying to avoid?”

“Everyone.” Even if he could smell lies, as some Idrians claimed they could do, he would detect no deceit in my answer.

Faris pushed abruptly away from the table and stood to his full, imposing height. “Follow me,” he said.

It wasn’t an answer, but it wasn’t dismissal either, so I rose from my own chair and followed him out of the small room and into the bar area of his fairly nondescript nightclub.

Located on one of the busiest streets in the Bricktown district of Oklahoma City, The Portal was apparently well known among local Idrians as a neutral—and generally safe—gathering spot for members of their community. Humans, however, barely even registered its existence, and to their mundane eyes, it appeared to be permanently closed for renovation.

To me, it looked like a fairly average bar scene. The bar itself reigned at one end, with a polished walnut counter and brass accents. There was a narrow stage on one side of the room, presumably for live music or karaoke, with tables and booths around the edges and a dance floor in the middle.

It was now midafternoon, and the bar was open, but barely, and only a few loners were scattered around the main room. They weren’t human, but I didn’t know quite enough about the various Idrian races to identify them at a glance.

Standing behind the bar was a man in his early thirties with lightly tanned skin, shaggy brown hair, and a watchful, amber-eyed gaze. That one, at least, I knew—the bartender was a shapeshifter.

“Seamus.” Faris greeted the shifter, then jerked his head in my direction by way of introduction. “This is Raine. She’s looking for a job. Thought she ought to meet you and Waffles before we discuss this any further.”

Waffles? What kind of name was that? Another employee?

Seamus’ amber eyes seemed to narrow appraisingly, but I met his gaze with a relaxed expression and a brief nod. I knew my own brown eyes wouldn’t tell him much. Nothing of importance anyway. It was possible he would be confused by my scent, but hopefully he wouldn’t understand what his nose was telling him.

“Okay, boss.” After setting down a towel and the glass he’d been drying, Seamus stepped out from behind the bar, followed by… possibly the largest dog I’d ever seen.

He was a beautiful golden brindle, with a mastiff’s bulk and a great dane’s height, and there was a single white spot on his chest. For a moment, I froze as the animal sauntered towards me, ears alert but not looking particularly nervous.

“This is Waffles,” Faris explained.

Had he only wanted to find out whether I disliked dogs? I didn’t, but most dogs didn’t care for the way I smelled—probably reacting to the weird scent of my magic—so I was poised for this one to raise his hackles and growl at me. But after a moment, his tail began to wag, and he came close enough to lean against my leg as if begging for pets. His eyes went all big and sad and his tongue lolled out, so I caved and looked over at Seamus.

“May I?”

He nodded his permission, so I reached out and scratched Waffles behind his ears. He glanced up at me, and then without warning reared up, put his paws on my shoulders, and took a swipe at my face with his tongue.

I laughed and tried to dodge, but immediately tripped over a chair and went down, with well over a hundred pounds of dog right on top of me, happily trying to lick anything he could reach. No one seemed inclined to intervene, so I gave up and submitted to the slobbery canine greeting, wondering if it was some weird sort of test. After the last few years of my life, it certainly wouldn’t be the weirdest.

“Seamus, why are you letting my dog lick that poor woman to death?”

A young woman practically bounced into my field of view, wearing a horrified expression and a hoodie that proclaimed, “Reading and Coffee: Because Murder is Wrong.” She couldn’t have been more than twenty or twenty-one, and looked like the last person in the universe I would have suspected of an inclination to homicide.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, tugging on Waffles’ collar until he gave up slobbering on me and commenced dancing around in a tail-wagging frenzy that knocked over two barstools. “Waffles, sit.”

Waffles did not, in fact, sit.

“Seamus, I swear, he’s getting worse.” Her accusatory glance lasted for about half a second before she turned bright amber eyes on me and held out a hand to help me up. “Hi! I’m Kira. I don’t think we’ve met yet. Are you one of Faris’s people?”

She said “people” with a crooked grin and the sort of emphasis I might have expected to apply to a mob boss or an oil baron, and for a moment I wondered whether Shane had seriously glossed over the details of Faris’s exact occupation. He’d muttered something about a shadow court, describing it as a refuge for Idrians who had found themselves at odds with their own courts. The perfect place for someone like me to hide.

I was starting to suspect that this nightclub might actually be a front for something far more sinister, but…

Nope, didn’t care. I needed this job too badly.

“Not yet?” I hedged, allowing Kira to pull me to my feet before swiping at my drool-covered face with the tail of my oversized flannel shirt.

“Well, you’re about to be,” she murmured conspiratorially. “If you want it. Faris will hire anyone Waffles approves of.”

So it had been a test. Was the dog more than he appeared to be?

“Plus, we need more ladies around here now that Marilee is gone.”

“She’ll be back,” Faris muttered, his expression now stuck somewhere between pride, embarrassment, and stoic tolerance.

To my surprise, tiny, red-haired Kira rose on tiptoes, kissed his bearded cheek, and grinned. “I’m sure she will. Are you and Morghaine going to attend our little family reunion tonight?”

Morghaine… Was that a wife? Girlfriend? I shot a surreptitious glance at Faris’s left hand before remembering that older Idrians didn’t usually observe human marriage customs.

“Will Draven be there?” Faris was glowering disapprovingly, but without any real heat behind it.

“Sorry, but it’s a bit too late to pretend that you hate my fiancé,” Kira retorted, hands on her hips. “He might get here in time, he might not. They’ve been having a few issues with vetting the attendees for the Symposium, and he wanted to make sure things were settled before he came home. But he’s going to try.”

The giant bearded elemental made an exaggerated huffing sound that carried no actual threat or frustration. “Then I’ll see how she’s feeling, but no promises.”

There was clearly a lot going on here, and all of it suggested that most of his grumpiness was intended to hide a heart full of total squish. But I doubted he would want a stranger to know that, so I pretended not to notice and dropped my gaze to Waffles, who was now laying on his back, wriggling happily with his tongue dangling out the side of his mouth. Living his best life.

This place was weird. But maybe a good weird?

“Probationary basis,” Faris said.

My eyes jerked to his, my heart lurching oddly with a feeling I hadn’t experienced since… maybe forever.

“Does that mean…”

“I’ve got a big event coming up and I need the extra help, so I’m giving you a chance. But you screw up in even the smallest way or give me a reason to distrust you…”

I wouldn’t just be fired, I would be dead. Possibly eaten by wolves or swallowed up by a highly localized sinkhole.

“Understood.” I nodded. “When do I start?”

“Tomorrow.” Faris eyed me from head to toe. “Be here by two. I’ll have a uniform for you. And,”—his face went carefully expressionless—“meals are provided during working hours.”

So much for trying to hide the true desperation of my circumstances. I didn’t want anyone to know how relieved I was, so I just nodded again with a polite smile. “Thank you. I’m grateful for the opportunity. I promise you won’t be disappointed.”

Now, of course, I just had to live up to that promise. Keep my head down, stay out of trouble, and not screw anything up.

Because that feeling in my chest? That was hope. Hope that we would have a place to live and enough to eat and never need to be on the run again. All I had to do to keep my people safe was continue to protect my secrets and stay in control of my magic while I was at work.

I could do this. I’d been doing it for a long time now, and under far worse circumstances, so after six months of being on the run, it was hard to feel anything other than optimism.

As I stepped out the front door of The Portal and stood on the sidewalk, I could feel the relieved smile tugging at my lips. I had a job now. How hard could it be to fly under the radar for a few months?

It might take a bit to get my first paycheck, but the run-down hostel where we were staying offered a small selection of complimentary breakfast items, along with fruit and cup ramen. I’d paid for our room with almost the last of my stolen cash, but it had bought us two weeks without worrying about where we were going to sleep. Things were looking up, and I couldn’t wait to tell everyone.

Just a quick word of advice? Never let the universe hear you say things like, “How hard can it be?” The universe is clearly fond of answering rhetorical questions, and usually with something along the lines of “Hold my beer.”

I was just about to head back down Sheridan Avenue when a pair of custom black SUVs pulled up to the curb, almost in unison. It appeared to be some sort of official entourage, and from the look of them, whoever was riding in the back seat had money. I was no expert, but I’d been in similar vehicles before, and they were typically constructed to withstand anything you could throw at them. Machine gun fire? No problem. Roll them off a cliff? Like going on a ride at the carnival. Don’t ask me how I know.

A man and a woman in nondescript dark clothing got out of the lead vehicle, followed by a tall, elegant woman in a pantsuit. All three approached the second SUV, but the door popped open before they could reach it. They stopped in their tracks, clearly waiting for the man who stepped out of the back seat.

I say a man, but really he was more like an explosion of power and frustration that happened to be localized within a single man-like shape.

There was no wind, and it was a fairly mild October day, but suddenly it felt as if a storm had descended onto Sheridan Avenue… if storms came in six foot four, with auburn hair, a powerfully muscled torso, and stunningly gorgeous features. He was built for destruction—with broad shoulders and arms that probably required a custom fit shirt to go with his custom SUV—and yet was still perfectly balanced. Graceful and utterly in control of his strength. His clothing was probably supposed to be formal, but his tie was gone and his jacket was in his hand, leaving only dark slacks and a dark button down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. To complement that slightly unbuttoned look, his auburn hair was vaguely mussed, as if he’d run his hands through it in frustration, and his amber eyes…

Amber. Shapeshifter.

And not just any shapeshifter. Considering his entourage, this man was likely wealthy or influential, or both, which made him wildly dangerous.

I needed him not to notice me.

Thankfully, I had a lot of practice at making myself small and unobtrusive. I wouldn’t have wished that “practice” on anyone else, but from time to time, it definitely came in handy.

And yet, somehow when I started to shrink into my “don’t notice me” pose and began to back away…

He saw me anyway. I wasn’t even looking at him, and I felt it—the burning pressure of that amber gaze as it sliced through my layers of camouflage like a scalpel.

I didn’t intend to look up. Didn’t intend to offer any sign that I’d noticed him, or that his presence meant any more to me than that of the woman in bright pink leggings jogging down the other side of the street, or the bike messenger pedaling furiously in the opposite direction.

But I looked up anyway, as if something had compelled my attention. When I did, his eyes collided with mine and narrowed instantly. His angular jaw clenched and his lips thinned. The fire of his assessment swept over me, and for just a moment, I surrendered to the bizarre urge to stare back at him. To prove that I could not be intimidated.

Our gazes clashed, like fighters sizing each other up, and his sparked with some unnamed emotion. Curiosity? Anger? Whatever it was, a fiery glow began to rise in the depths of those amber irises, and with it a power that I could feel pressing against my skin. His steps paused as he watched me, halting the progress of his entire entourage. Drawing attention. Exactly what I didn’t need…

Somehow, I yanked my gaze away and stared at the sidewalk. Turned and took a step. Then another. Moving away from him. Just a ragged, white-haired woman in shapeless clothes. No one to be noted or remembered.

I felt it when he turned away. I didn’t dare turn to watch, but I heard the footsteps as his people followed him, and part of me didn’t need to see to know where he was going.

The Portal.

Hopefully, it was just a brief visit. Hopefully our paths would not cross again, because I wasn’t sure what to make of that strange compulsion to challenge him. But no matter who he was, I wasn’t going to let some chance encounter ruin my day. I’d survived far worse than beautiful, dangerous shapeshifters with fire in their eyes, even if this one did look like he could snap me in half with his bare hands.

Nothing was going to spoil today for me.

I had a job. I was free. And I was letting nothing and no one cage me ever again.