Page 14 of Wicked Deeds

But there was dissension among the Fae at the best of times and reopening the door to San Francisco wasn’t a decision all of them supported. It had been necessary to stabilize the realm. but some thought it was too soon to reconnect to the part of theworld with the most known demon activity in recent times. It was not much more than a decade since a demon had caused the Big One and less than that since a demon had come for me. The Fae hated demons more than the Cestis did. A demon gaining access to the innate magic of the realm could destroy both the realm and the human world.

“You think Lord Usuriel?”

“He does seem the most likely candidate.” Callum put down his cup with a sigh. “Lord Padran isn’t fond of you, but he doesn’t command nixlings. His realm is mostly water, and nixlings do not love getting wet.”

I pictured the nixling’s fluffy coat. They could probably swim—cats could—but I doubted it would be fun to dry off afterward.

“Will Cerridwen talk to Usuriel?”

Callum poured more tea. “That may depend. Things are still…delicate.”

Confirming what I already knew.

Between rescuing Gwen and crossing Lord Usuriel, I hadn’t made myself any more popular with the members of the Elder Council, who already didn’t like me.

I assumed I wouldn’t be going back into the realm for some time yet, and Callum and Gráinne would train us here. I was happy with that plan. I knew Pinky was, too. She was even less fond of the realm than I was, seeing as technically Cerridwen could command her fealty at any point and put her to work.

But I would have thought a month might start to ease the tension. After all, I hadn’t broken any rules. If anything, Usuriel had. But maybe denting his pride was worse than breaking rules. I’d just have to wait it out until he cooled down. I didn’t exactly miss going into the realm, but I missed Cerridwen’s lessons. I didn’t want to forget the Fae magic I’d fought hard to understand.

But my sense of time wasn’t the same as a Fae’s.

“Alright,” I said. “So is there anything we can do to stop this happening again, or do we have to be on alert for extra weirdness?”

Callum’s mouth quirked. “Gráinne and I can extend the wards, give you more warning if anything of concern approaches the house. Most of the creatures you need to worry about can’t get through wards the way the nixlings can. It would take a great deal of force, the kind that can’t be achieved with stealth and that would be an undeniable breach of the contract. If you come across any of them, well, you know how to defend yourself against demonkind. Most of the things effective against them will work against beings of the realm.”

Mostly the way I killed demonkind was with fire. Callum had made me a far better fighter—though I had a long way to go to get anywhere near as skilled as he or Gráinne were—and Cerridwen had begun teaching me Fae magic to add to my arsenal, but so far I hadn’t mastered anything advanced enough to kill a demon.

“What about bullets?”

His mouth pursed. The Fae, as a rule, didn’t approve of guns. Fair enough when guns were made from iron and steel and so were many of the bullets they fired. Damon had swapped all our ammunition over to steel casing and cores after our first encounters with the Fae. A pure iron bullet would wreck a gun after a few shots, so it was the best we could do. For now.

“A bullet could kill some. Weaken others. Others, you would merely anger unless you have iron ammunition,” Callum said. “In some ways it’s a pity we cannot put on some show of strength to let them know you are not defenseless.”

“Such as?”

He shrugged. “Well, if they sent something more dangerous than a nixling, killing it would have sent a strong message that you are not easy prey.”

“I’m not about to start killing things that haven’t even made a move against me,” I said.

“An admirable position,” Callum replied. “But while the nixling didn’t seek to harm you, locating your house and breaching your wards is a move in itself. Particularly if we are to assume it did not decide to seek you out on its own.”

Apparently he’d come round to my way of thinking.

“So I’m in a game of chicken with an unknown Fae?”

Callum squinted at me. “I fail to see what poultry has to do with it.”

Lizzie snorted. “‘Chicken’ is what we call a dumb game where two people run or drive at each other. The one who gives in first and dodges, loses. It’s epically stupid.”

“Ah. I am familiar with such contests. The Fae know such games of dominance. Though I fail to see why it would be called chicken. Are human fowl particularly cowardly?”

“They’re smart enough to run away, if you charge them,” I said. “That’s not cowardly, that’s just good sense when you’re not a predator.”

“Dumb name for a dumb game,” Lizzie agreed.

“So it seems,” Callum said. “But perhaps the lesson to be had is that in games of dominance, it might be wiser to be the predator than the prey.”

Chapter Five

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