Cress waited until nighttime to return to the human academy library when he knew his brothers would be long gone. He inched over the filthy floor, inhaling the scent of old books, new knowledge, and something else he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He didn’t bother to light a candle since he hadn’t come to read. Cold air swept in from an open window at the back.
He stood as still as if he’d turned his whole self to stone. Torn pages ruffled along the floor as power moved through the space. The collar of his human officer uniform fluttered along with his hideous short hair.
Traces of mischief were left out everywhere like it had been dumped over the academy floor, and the faint scent of old fairy blood laced the air. There were exactly two scents of fairy blood—one old and one new. The old smelled familiar in a way that reminded Cress of a dream he once had. The new blood was fresh—maybe only days old. It was unfamiliar. It left bumps over his faeborn skin and a quickening in his veins.
Cress tilted his ear toward the library’s past, reaching for the old blood to learn its story first. He listened.
Phantom howls rose in the wake of his power drifting through the shelves. For a moment, he thought he saw someone from the past tucked around the corner of those shelves, panting and gripping a long fairsaber sword. Monstrous wails rumbled below his boots, whispering along the walls, and tucking themselves between the tight pages of unopened books.
But the glimpse of the past vanished as human footsteps echoed from the hall just outside the library. Cress unflexed his arms, and the rustling of the pages ceased.
The Prince tucked himself behind a shelf and waited in the spot his senses told him a fairy had once hidden days, months, or years ago. Two humans entered through the double doors in bright orange vests and yellow war helmets, carrying short, oddly shaped metal weapons. Cress tilted his pointed ears toward them.
“The police finally closed the investigation,” the first one said. “They decided it was just a bunch of teenagers who trashed the place. The dean gave us the green light to start doing repairs. I’m estimating about four weeks of construction until we can get the students back in here again.”
“So, you don’t believe the rumours?” the second human asked as he scanned the heaps of litter and damaged books.
The first one laughed. “About that whack job professor who thinks he heard growling in the floor? No way! Do you?”
The first human released a strained laugh. His eyes nervously darted up to the cobwebs in the corners. “No.”
Cress crept to the back shelf where the ancient Fairy Book of Rules and Masteries hid. Once he ensured it had not been tampered with again, he turned for the open window and noticed a piece of yarn on the floor. He shrank to pick it up, rolling it between his fingers. He sniffed it and held back a faeborn curse.
Fairy yarn.
He stuffed it into his pocket and hopped out the window.
Cold bit his bare arms as he marched beneath the stars, pulling a slip of parchment from his pocket. He read an address in his own elegant script, and he headed to a building with seven identical human chariots on wheels outside marked by the human brotherhood of officers.
“You’re here.” Officer Westbow leaned back in his office chair as Cress entered the police building. “We thought maybe you changed your mind about the transfer.”
“I’ve been ill. Can you tell me the name of whoever lives here?” Cress handed over the parchment. He hadn’t time to waste on humouring these charmless fools like he did on his first day in the realm. And this officer in particular was chatty.
Officer Westbow frowned as he read the address. “Sure. But you should really call the boss the next time you’re sick. He was pretty mad when you didn’t show up all week.” The human officer’s chair squeaked as he turned toward his large, glowing rectangular device and began tapping buttons.
Cress stole a glance at the dark, storming skies as he waited.
“Thelma Lewis.” Officer Westbow squinted at the glowing rectangle. “Oh, I remember her,” he said. “Sad story. Are you re-opening the car accident case? That was handed over to the detectives.”
“That’s her real name?” Cress asked, just to be sure.
Officer Westbow handed the parchment back. “Of course. You want a sandwich?” The officer pulled two poisonous bread-coated snacks out of a brown paper sack, and Cress suppressed a snarl. “Hey, did you hear about the deal the Chief is negotiating with Desmount Tech Industries for our new gear…”
But Cress was already out the station door, trotting down the stairs, and pulling off his police hat. He unbuttoned the uniform as he followed streets and crossed roads, breathing in cold air and the dull human stories lacing the wind. He didn’t stop moving until he reached the edge of the city.
It took him half an hour of twists and turns and hopping rails before the Prince found a small house in an assembly of trees. An old human woman walked from room to room inside, turning out the lights. Plants and a collection of photos in frames filled the windowsills, and the smell of fresh baking leaked from the dwelling. Cress breathed it in, reminded briefly of a time many faeborn years ago when he smelled a similar sweetness and ate cocoa crisps in the grass.
But this was not the time for childling memories.
It was the time to hit Kate Kole in the place that would hurt her the most.
Cress stepped to the front door of the old woman’s house and knocked. Shuffling sounded on the other side. He slid the balled-up police garments behind his back as the human came to the door. Scents of syrup and herbal tea flooded over him the moment she opened it—just a crack. The old woman peeked out.
“Good evening,” Cress said, stuffing down the cruelty from his gaze and replacing it with a look that could melt ice and sweeten bitter beans.
“Evening? It’s well past evening, son. And you’re not wearing a coat,” the old woman said.
“I don’t get cold easily. May I—” he looked her over—her cottony slippers, her knit sweater with large wooden buttons, her thick glasses. None of it looked threatening—“come in?”
“I don’t trust strangers,” she stated. “And I should warn you that I’m armed. I’ve learned the hard way to take precautions. I hope you understand.”
Cress’s smile dropped at her tone. There was a clatter behind the door where he couldn’t see. He didn’t leave.
After a moment, the old woman sighed. “Fine. Get inside if you have something to say. But I did warn you.” The old woman swept aside, pulling the door open with her.
Cress stepped into the dwelling and was encompassed with the aroma of baking. There was something else though… His gaze darted to the living room to where he detected traces of ill intent and human fear lingering there from many years ago. It seemed the old woman wasn’t lying when she said she had to learn the hard way not to trust strangers. Cress shifted his footing, but kept his face composed and forced a smile when he turned back to face the human.
“I’ve only come to—”
He nearly bit off his tongue. She was, in fact, armed—the same sort of human weapon the officers carried was pointed at Cress’s chest, only this woman’s was much larger with a long snout. Shayne claimed that human weapons were the equivalent of crossbows that shot lead rather than arrows.
Cress sorted through several words, but nothing proper came to mind. Finally, he pointed to the weapon. “Can that thing kill me?” he asked with legitimate curiosity.
The old woman’s laugh was raspy, and his abdomen tightened. It sounded far too much like Kate Kole’s wretched, spellbinding laugh.
“It can. But I won’t shoot you, son, unless you try any nonsense. I’ll just listen to what you have to say at this inconsiderately late hour, then I’ll let you be off so I can go to bed. All is well.”
Cress worked his jaw as he considered that. He was sure he could snatch the weapon and take it from this frail old woman. But if she was anything as clever as his human target, she would probably see it coming.
“You’re not smiling anymore,” the old woman added. “It seems I’ve flustered you.”
“I’m not easily flustered,” Cress shot back. “Nothing frightens me.”
When she laughed again, Cress accidentally took a small step back.
“I can see through you, son. I’m not sure why; maybe it’s my age. I can tell you’re afraid of a lot of things.” She dropped the snout of the weapon to the floor. “But I don’t think you have any real interest in robbing me. This gun’s not loaded anyway.” Her grayish gaze swept down his clean attire and healthy body as she came to her own conclusions. “Though you’re the most unusual looking salesman I’ve ever seen.”
For the first time, Cress noticed the old woman had a simple, easy smile amidst her wrinkles—a smile that had held up better than his.
The old woman sighed and set the human weapon against the wall by the coats. “You’re practically shivering.” She brushed past him into the next room where the scent of baking came from. “Hurry on in. I’ll make you tea and give you some fresh cookies before I send you away. You can try to sell me whatever it is you came here to sell while we eat.”
Cress hid his police shirt inside one of the coats by the door and followed the woman to a feasting table. The chairs looked ready to snap beneath someone of his stature. But she nodded to the closest one and he slid into it obediently. He watched the old woman hobble to a metallic jug and fill it with water. A moment later, she slid a platter of thin round cakes off the counter and lifted the corner of a clear blanket to pull one out. Cress nearly choked on the whiff of sugar that rushed toward him—he slammed a fist over his mouth so he would not lunge for the entire plate and gobble it down right in front of her.
“What is this?” he asked when she set a thin round cake before him on a paper cloth.
“It’s a freshly baked chocolate chip cookie.” The old woman pulled a tin box from the cupboard and walked over to the metal jug.
Cress poked the thin cake. Dark brown chunks speckled the surface. It didn’t look like bread.
He had never smelled something so beautifully intoxicating in his entire faeborn life.
“Is this poisoned? Are there any tricks hiding in this freshly baked chocolate chip cookie?” he challenged.
The old woman shot him a scowl for even suggesting such a thing, and for some reason Cress slammed his mouth shut and sat up a little straighter.
“Why in the world would you ask me that?” Thelma Lewis tilted the metal jug to fill a goblet with steaming water, and Cress eyed the freshly baked chocolate chip cookie. His insides ached to try it. His mind warned him not to.
“Where I come from, tricks are hidden in everything. If you’re not careful, you’ll have your memories stolen, your back stabbed, and your whole life taken away.” Still, he lifted the cookie and turned it over, studying the flat underside.
A goblet of tea was set before him, giving off the warmth of peppermint that reminded Cress of spearflower petal soup back home. The old woman’s chair creaked when she sat down across from him.
“I’m sorry to hear that. It sounds like you come from a terrible place. I’m sure your life hasn’t been easy,” she said, and Cress’s turquoise gaze darted up to her.
He watched her sip her own goblet of tea.
He watched her lift a paper cloth to dab her mouth afterward.
He watched her arms shake as she lifted herself and fetched a cup of honey from the cupboard.
Cress’s hand tightened around his freshly baked chocolate chip cookie.
He rarely got stuck on questions, but he could think of nothing else now: Why didn’t these humans appear cruel? Was this old human woman only pretending to have a kind smile and weak arms? Was she the one who trained Kate Kole to act innocent and to kill? Cress’s gaze slid to where the woman had stashed the weapon by the front door.
Mor thought Kate Kole was only clever by accident, and that she had help. Cress eyed the old woman’s back, wondering if she’d been that help the whole time.
“Why don’t we play a game?” Cress suggested as the woman returned and set the honey before him. He tried not to notice that it smelled the same as Kate Kole in this house—warm honey and powdery hair soaps. “How about we ask each other three questions. They can be any questions at all, but we must answer honestly.”
“Sure. How about we start by telling each other our names?” the old woman suggested, and Cress lost his smile again.
“What?” he growled. “Our real names?”
“Yes. I’m Thelma Lewis. But most people just call me Grandma Lewis.”
Cress felt his veins thicken with power as he opened his mouth to speak this human’s name, to command her to tell him everything about Kate Kole and her accomplices, but the old woman spoke again first.
“Let me ask you the first question. Who raised you to believe that everything in the world is a trick and everyone is trying to hurt you?” she asked.
The hairs on Cress’s arms lifted as he realized how dangerously close he was to breaking a fairy law. Queene Levress would cut out his tongue if he mentioned her to the humans—especially human assassins.
“That I cannot say,” he admitted.
“Well, so much for answering our questions honestly. You have ‘a hard upbringing’ written all over you, son. It doesn’t take an old, experienced woman to see that. You have scars on the back of your hands and coldness in your eyes. I can only imagine the things you’ve seen.”
Cress looked away and took a sip of his tea.
“I have two granddaughters, you know,” she went on. “My oldest, Katherine, would scold me for inviting you in. She’s not even the cop in our family, yet she’s the most protective of me.” Thelma Lewis glanced over at the photos of a human family resting atop the windowsill. “She’s been through a lot, like you have.”
A strange silence dragged through the room, and Cress took a large gulp from his goblet this time. He winced. Human tea was repulsive—it tasted of old leaves and dirt. He took the bottle of honey and squeezed a long amber stream into the tea.
“You assume too much. I have not had a difficult upbringing. I have been given riches and glory my whole life,” Cress finally said.
“But you were raised to believe that everyone is trying to hurt you,” the woman said. “It seems like your mother didn’t show you the kindness of the world.”
Cress opened his mouth, then closed it again. He took a tight-jawed sip of his honey-filled tea. Then he said, “I was taken from my real mother when I was a childling. The woman who raised me is the one you’re referring to. The one who made me wary of tricks.”
“Ah. So, you lost your mom like Katherine did.”
It was Cress who glanced over at the photos this time. He glared at them. He had done research on his human target, but he hadn’t learned until now that Kate Kole had lost her mother.
Without warning, Cress stood from his chair. “I’ll be leaving now. It’s late.” He turned for the door and slipped his uniform out of the coat where he’d hidden it. He paused by the front door. A second later, he reached back and grabbed the freshly baked chocolate chip cookie off the table. He headed out into the cold.
