Grave Dance

“It will take a couple of minutes to brew,” I said, because I had to say something.

“Mmm-hmm.” He smiled and took a step closer.

I didn’t mean to back up, but the counter was suddenly pressing against my ass, so clearly I had. Death’s hands moved to my hips. I tried to draw a breath, but couldn’t seem to catch it.

“That attack yesterday . . .” he whispered, crowding my space. “Who did you irritate recently?”

“Irritate? I—no one. Well, a fae in the floodplain when I revealed some dismembered feet, but—” Death slid close enough that his thighs brushed the front of mine, and I lost track of what I was saying. I mentally groped for an intelligent strain of thought. “Was that a soul you collected from that beast?”

“That’s what I do.” His breath tickled over my skin as he spoke.

“How did a magic construct gain a soul?” I asked, trying to focus on something other than how near his lips were to mine.

His smile stretched wider. “Magic,” he said, leaning closer. A loud knocking banged through my loft.

My head snapped up, my gaze jumping to the front door. But the knocking wasn’t from someone outside. It was coming from the inner door that led down to the main portion of the house. Saved by a housemate.

“Come in,” I called, shocked by how breathless my voice sounded.

The door opened, and Caleb bustled in. “Hey, Al, I wanted you—” He stopped. “Is this a bad time?”

“No, I, uh—” I swallowed, wondering what this must look like to Caleb. He couldn’t see Death, so from his point of view, I looked like I was alone in my apartment, backed against my counter for no particular reason. I glanced at Death, and he stepped away, giving me space.

“Later,” he whispered, smoothing a curl behind my ear. Then he vanished.

Later . . . I shook my head and tried to wipe away the goofy smile I felt spreading across my face.

“How is Holly?” I asked, pushing away from the counter.

PC, who’d jumped off the bed as soon as the door opened, pawed at Caleb’s leg. My housemate smiled at the small dog and knelt to give the top of his head a good rub.

“Sleeping,” he said as PC lathered his hand in dog kisses.

“She left very early this morning and returned a little after dawn. Did she mention anything last night about having to go somewhere?”

I shook my head. She shouldn’t have been leaving in the middle of the night.

I was halfway across the room when my throat tightened and a hiccup hit me like a punch in the chest. My voice broke with an undignified croak at the force of the hiccup.

“I—” Another hiccup hit me, cutting off my words.

“You okay, Al?” Caleb asked, his brows drawing together.

“Yeah, I’ll”—hiccup—“get ”—hiccup—“water.”

I grabbed a glass, nearly dropping it as another hiccup shook me. Caleb took the glass from me, and two more hiccups, each worse than the last, hit back to back. A burning ache spread across my chest. I covered my mouth with my fingers, as if I could stop the sound and thus the pain.

Caleb held the glass—now filled halfway with tap water—out to me. When I reached for it, the charms on my bracelet clinked and twinkled.

The charm.

Caleb looked like a sandy-haired college quarterback, but he was fae, his boy-next-door facade a glamour. And I created a charm to warn me of glamour.

I snatched off the charm bracelet. As soon as it lost contact with my skin, the hiccups stopped and my chest stilled.

I frowned at the bracelet and the little wooden charm I’d created. Some warning.

I hadn’t considered installing an off switch in the charm, so it was either try to convince Caleb to drop his glamour or go without my charms until he left. With a sigh, I shoved the bracelet in my pocket. My house wards blocked grave essence, so it wasn’t like I needed the extra shields the charm bracelet provided.

“Better now?” Caleb asked as I took a long sip of water.

The cool liquid felt good in my aching throat and I nodded, but I didn’t thank him. You didn’t thank fae. Or apologize. Or in any way acknowledge a debt, for that matter. So I smiled and hoped he understood my appreciation.

“Okay, then,” he said. “I’d like you to meet a friend of mine.”

That was all the warning he gave before he opened the door separating my apartment from the main house. An all-too-familiar figure marched into my room, his back curved and his knees bent.

I did a double take, and PC ducked under the bed. Just the tip of his black nose showed under the bedskirt as he growled at the fae I’d first met in the floodplain. Smart dog.

“Caleb, what is he—”

“Alex, this is Malik, a friend of mine.”

Friend? I frowned. Caleb had always had my best interests in the past, but . . . I trusted Caleb. That didn’t mean I trusted his friends.

“You’re not welcome here,” I said, lifting my gaze to meet the large, unblinking eyes of the strange fae. He’d threatened me, and I’d seen him in the Quarter directly before the construct attack. Coincidence? I doubted it.

Malik’s thin lips tugged downward and he glanced at Caleb.

“Hear him out, Al.”

I shook my head. “You’re wanted by the police, Malik. I suggest you leave. Now.” I grabbed my phone off the counter where it was plugged in, charging. Malik was a person of interest wanted for questioning in connection with the feet found in the floodplain. John would want to know he was standing in my apartment.

I pressed the button to wake the phone, but the screen didn’t light up. Damn. The phone was off, shut down to avoid reporters. I held the power button and headed for the main door. I jerked it open, letting the morning light stream in as I waited for the phone to power on. Either Malik would walk through that door, leaving me in peace to call the police, or I’d flee my own room. Escape plans were a plus.

“Alex,” Caleb said, stepping between Malik and me. “Please, listen to what he has to say.”

I gaped at Caleb. Fae don’t say please, just like they don’t thank you or apologize. Words had power and all of those words acknowledged a debt. Debts with fae were binding.

“Please,” he said again, and I felt the imbalance hanging in the air between us. If I did as he asked, he’d be indebted to me. Not that I wanted that, but in all the years I’d lived in his house, he’d never once said please. The fact that my hearing Malik out was worth Caleb’s indebting himself to me meant that whatever the other fae had to say was important.

The phone chirped in my hand, letting me know it had powered on. I glanced at it, then hesitated and reached out with my ability to sense magic. Neither fae carried any charms. Caleb was one of those very rare fae who could manipulate the Aetheric, and his skin tingled in my senses with residual magic from a ward he’d been crafting recently, but Malik didn’t have a trace of residual magic on him. And he certainly didn’t have a trace of the spells I’d felt in the feet or the construct. Of course, that didn’t mean he wasn’t involved; it just meant he wasn’t carrying any charms. Still, if Caleb was willing to indebt himself . . . I lowered the phone, letting the screen fall asleep again.

“I’m listening,” I said, turning to close the door. Then I stopped, my gaze stuck on the porch.

“Al?” I could hear the frown in Caleb’s voice. “Alex, what is it?”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. I just stood there, shock reverberating down my spine. Outside my door, in the very center of the landing, was a dagger.

Caleb sprinted across the room. When he saw the dagger he cursed in one of the fast, fluid languages of the fae. I couldn’t understand the words, but from the tone I could tell he was pissed and maybe a little freaked. Or maybe I was projecting. Caleb shoved his hand against the doorjamb to check the house wards, but I doubted he’d find anything. The dagger had been driven into the wood in the middle of the small landing. Caleb’s wards didn’t reach that far. I swallowed, glancing at Malik—who watched with curiosity but hadn’t moved.

The reassuring weight of the phone still filled my hand. I flicked the screen lock off and opened the phone app. I got as far as dialing the nine when Caleb plucked the phone from my trembling fingers.

“Don’t do anything hasty,” he said, his voice low.

“Hasty? Hasty? You brought the fae who’s been threatening me into the house and now there’s a dagger driven into the middle of my porch. I think I’m already behind on calling the police. And don’t tell me this isn’t connected.” I made a wide, sweeping gesture to include both Malik and the dagger protruding from one of the porch beams, the blade embedded deep enough that the ornate hilt touched the wood. It pinned a scrap of paper to the porch. A note? From where I stood, still inside the house, the yellowing parchment looked old, the edges curling and torn. The entire display looked surreal, almost innocuous, beside the saucer of milk I filled nightly for our resident gargoyle, but fear gripped my chest, made my breath harden in my lungs. Someone had come to my home, to my door, and driven the dagger into my porch. And I had a good idea who.

Caleb tucked my phone into his back pocket and turned to face Malik. “What do you know about this?”

The gangly fae cocked his head to the side, one bushy eyebrow lifting as he shuffled forward. I stumbled back, out of arm’s length, and the fae hesitated. He blinked at me, as if surprised by my fear and not pleased at being the cause. We stared at each other for a moment, and when he stepped toward the door again, I held my ground.

He peered around the doorframe and after a single glance shrugged. “It’s not mine.”

“It has to—” I stopped. No, it didn’t have to be his. He hadn’t said he didn’t put the dagger there, only that it didn’t belong to him.

Caleb obviously came to the same conclusion. “Do you know anything about the dagger or how it ended up here?”