Fae of the North (Court of Crown and Compass Book 1) Read online

  Fae of the North

  Court of Crown and Compass

  Book I

  by

  E. Hall

  Fae of the North

  Copyright© 2019 E. Hall

  All Rights Reserved

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any informational storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the author/publisher except where permitted by law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Cover art and design by Mihaela Voicu

  Website: http://www.ehallauthor.com

  Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/ehallauthor

  Newsletter: http://bit.ly/EHallNL

  To my family,

  “Your love is my light, the sun of all my mornings, the fire of all my nights.”

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Let’s Connect

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by E. Hall

  Demons shadow thieve,

  while the fae court grieve.

  Four sisters to find.

  One compass to bind.

  Four crowns to take.

  One curse to break.

  Before twelve moons turn,

  else the realm will burn.

  Chapter 1

  Ineke

  The snake-like gaze of a puffy green demon slides over me. I won’t lie. It makes me want to gag. He’s toward the back of the line as I process today’s batch of criminals. There’s no chance my shift will be over before it’s his turn.

  It usually goes something like this: the demons will size me up and do one of two things. They’ll show me their truest, nastiest side. In this case, they do not pass go. It’s straight to Riker’s Island. Or the demons will try to sweet talk me into funneling them into the line that offers them a single opportunity for reform instead of heading to Riker’s.

  In a world of modern technology, the government figured out that chopping their heads off with a sword is the swiftest way to kill them. Then they passed a bill for the humane extinguishing of demons who refuse to reform. Go figure.

  I’ve seen demons do some horrid things and ever since I can remember, I’ve wanted to be on the special police task force and work as a demon slayer, but alas, here I am with an office job.

  “Name, please,” I say to a demon with skin like the outside of a charred marshmallow.

  He ejects a wad of slimy yellow mucous and it lands on the processing form.

  Gross.

  I slam the stamp with red ink printed with the word denied onto Marshmallow’s form, pass it to him, and point to the line for the train with only one stop. He’ll be carted to the old jail on Riker’s Island off Manhattan and instead of living out the rest of his life in a cell, he’ll get sent into oblivion.

  Right around when I was born, there was some kind of solar accident, blotting out part of the sun. No one knows why. After that, demons started appearing and wreaking havoc. As soon as I was eligible, I enrolled in the Magical Management Vocational Academy. My intention was to fight crime. Instead, I work behind this desk, wiping up demon slime. My mother prefers it this way. I do not. At least my uniform is pretty hardcore.

  “Next,” I say.

  The green puffy demon stands in front of me. He blinks his eyes slowly, lizard-like, and studies me.

  Ew. “Name, please,” I say.

  “Ineke Stowe,” he hisses.

  My blood chills. There’s no way he can see my badge attached to the waist of my leather pants and there’s no way he can know my real first name. no one does. My mother made me promise never to tell anyone. I go by Kiki. A thick feeling forms in my stomach.

  “Name, please,” I repeat more firmly.

  The demon doesn’t reply. Instead, he passes me a note. “I was told to give this to you.”

  I let out my held breath.

  “Oh, this is a new one. A love note. Great. Nice try.” I roll my eyes.

  When the demons don’t cooperate, we’re supposed to just use the denied stamp and move along. But this guy is looking at me with something like...warmth. Ugh. This is probably why I wasn’t allowed to become a police officer, but at least I got the training. Instead of getting to use a sword and fight demon crimes, I’m a peace officer. Figures.

  I let out a sigh, pass him his form, and point to the line commonly known as second chance ranch. I stuff the note in my pocket. Heather, Allie, Bhava, and I will have a laugh when we read it later.

  After I process a never-ending line of demons, the bell rings, signaling the end of my shift. Before heading to the locker room to change into civilian clothes, my boss motions for me to enter his office.

  “Good afternoon, sir,” I say.

  “Peace Officer Stowe, I’m going to need you to do an extra shift today. Cover for Mellers. She called in sick.”

  “More like she was out late last night at a club,” I mutter.

  “What was that?” my boss asks.

  “Nothing.”

  “I’m relying on you for this. You may not have been well-adapted for walking the beat on the streets, but you have a lot of potential here.”

  I try not to frown at the veiled insult. My superiors thought I was a little too enthusiastic at times—and by enthusiastic, they meant deadly with the demon slashing sword. They couldn’t have anyone showing them up, now could they? “Yes. Of course, sir.”

  It’s common knowledge that my boss favors Tiffany Mellers because of the way the V-neck of her uniform fits in that area.

  A silver snowflake pendant drops neatly from my neck—a gift from my mother when I was too little to remember. I’ve always worn it and my fingers almost involuntarily lift to it at that exact moment. I shiver.

  Ordinarily, I don’t mind saying yes to helping more at the office because it means a bigger paycheck. I’m also hoping by demonstrating my dedication to the Force, I’ll be reconsidered for the police branch. But it’s my birthday and spending another minute of it with demon jerk nuggets is not my idea of a good day.

  With my shoulders drooping, I head back to my desk and make generous use of my red stamp.

  Because of the blotch on the sun, twilight comes early to New York City. The shorter days also mean the demons have more time to play at night—their preferred hours of operation.

  I don’t even bother changing out of my uniform when the bell rings. It’s long past dark by the time I get home to the apartment I share with my mother—yes, I live with my mom, but we’re best friends. She raised me by herself and although she can be overprotective—like
forbidding me from telling anyone my first name—she’s a really cool lady. Whereas my hair is dark, hers is perfectly white with silver streaks. She says we’re the perfect pair, like an Oreo cookie. My stomach rumbles.

  I toss my keys on the table by the door. The lights are out and I secretly brace myself for a crowd of my friends from, school, work, and the karate dojo to pop up and yell surprise. Maybe she planned a party and even got an Oreo cookie ice cream cake.

  I rub my hands over my arms. It’s chilly in here and when nothing exciting and celebratory happens, I find the light and turn it on. My brow furrows because as I step into the living room, it’s really cold. Like Arctic temperatures. The windows are closed and the heat indicates that it’s on—not that we keep it very warm in here since heating fuel is expensive.

  “Mom,” I call as I walk down the hall. The light in the bathroom is on and the door is only opened a crack. “You will never believe it. I got a love note from a demon on my birthday.” I drop the hint in case she forgot.

  She’s been preoccupied lately, but Allie said it’s probably because I’m getting older. Her mom had what’s called empty nest syndrome after she moved out.

  It never really occurred to me to move out. In truth, I’d never leave my mom.

  I knock gently on the bathroom door. “Mom?” I repeat.

  She’s not in there. I take the note out of my pocket. She’ll get a laugh out of this. Her bedroom door is partially open too and the light is just enough for me to read the message. But I stop myself mid-word.

  Demons shadow thieve,

  while the fae court grieve.

  Four sisters to find.

  One compass to bind.

  Four crowns to take.

  One curse to break.

  Before twelve moons turn,

  else the realm will burn.

  This is not a love note from some desperate demon. It’s just weird. So is the absolute quiet in the apartment.

  I push the bedroom door open and my heart stops.

  My mother is lying in bed, eyes closed, arms across her chest with her palms down. Her skin is the color of frost, almost the same as her hair...and a pair of crystalline wings hang limply over the edge of the bed.

  The puffy demon from work appears from the dark corners of the room. Without hesitating, I launch at it, pulling my blade—though smaller than a demon-slaying sword, but fairly effective—from my uniform belt. “What did you do to my mother?” I wail.

  “Read the note, Ineke,” it hisses.

  I intend to make quick work of ending its existence, but it combusts before my eyes.

  My stomach turns, flips, and my heart hurtles toward the woman lying motionless in the bed. “Mom?” I whisper.

  I take her hand and it’s frozen. Tears pierce the corners of my eyes. As my palm presses against hers a surge of heat rushes through me and then everything turns gray. Neon. Waves of light flicker and dance like the aurora borealis.

  Then blackness closes around me like a curtain.

  Chapter 2

  Ineke

  Icy death creeps in, chills my blood, and forms crystals on my skin. The air is like a winter night, my heart covered in frost. The world is cold liquid, vapor, and I am no different. It’s as though I’m passing through it or from it. What feels like greedy fingers pull the warmth from me.

  “Ineke, what do you believe?” asks a voice as cold as the wind.

  “I believe in love.” I gather the answer from a remote part of my awareness. It was something my mother always told me. Love is the ultimate truth.

  “I believe in you. We all do. I want you to believe me...” This time, it’s my mother’s voice breaking through the other one as though my answer granted her permission to speak with me.

  Tears spring to my eyes. Is my mother dead? Am I? But I can’t ask the questions. My tongue freezes in my mouth.

  “You are on the shores of the Sea of Dreams. This is where we part ways. You must seek silver king and stop the Shadow Army. This skyn tethers you and your sisters to the past, present, and future,” my mother says. “The message you received was true. Please find them, warn them, save them.”

  In my vision, a silver rope appears with four knots. It’s looped in a circle.

  “You are bound together in life and death,” she says.

  Death. This is death. The Sea of Dreams is from a bedtime story my mother would tell—a place where people go when they die. I thought it was a fairytale. But my mother had wings. I saw them. What is happening? Maybe I’ve been working too much. Stress building up or I’m having a breakdown.

  “Darling, don’t be afraid,” my mother’s voice intones.

  “I want to live. I want you to live, Mom.” My jaw trembles.

  “My time has passed, my darling. I did what I could to spare you. Now, please break the curse.”

  Spared me? What curse?

  “I love you and your sisters,” my mother says.

  Then the silence becomes loud in my ears.

  I drift in that strange place of thought for a few more moments before a flame ignites within, starting in my chest. Was she referring to the message on the note I read from the demon? She must’ve been. My eyes blink open.

  Surrounded by mist and clouds of white fluff, I hear the faint thump, thump, thump of my heart struggling to beat. My body is heavy, as though it’s forever cemented to the ice.

  Ice? Where am I?

  My breath puffs an impossibly faint cloud. My breath. The dead can’t breathe. I wiggle my fingers to find that a silver rope, the skyn my mother spoke of and that I saw in my vision, tangles around one hand. The note from the demon is in the other. I stuff both in my pocket with shaking hands. I squeeze my toes.

  There’s blood in my veins and a pulse in my heart. My cheeks ache as my lips lift. I returned from the Sea of Dreams or wherever that was. I’m alive.

  A soft drip, drip, drip draws my attention outward.

  Ice melts from my lashes. There’s no time to think about how or why I came to be here, if death released me from its icy grip, or what exactly is happening. I need to move and create heat.

  As I try to stand, my feet slip from under me. I tilt and then slide toward black water. I realize that I float on a precariously small hunk of ice. Fog rolls over me as I glance toward the sky, searching for the sun or the moon, for light, land, or home.

  All I hear is the shushing of the floe through the night shades of gray like murky puddles. I roll over onto my stomach and clutch the top of my tiny iceberg.

  In the distance, I spot something solid and decidedly lighter gray, white, like the edge of the icy land. I slide lower, flinching when my boots hit the water, but I begin kicking to propel myself forward.

  My legs are stiff at first, but I gain momentum and ignore that the splashing might attract creatures that lurk beneath the surface of the water. I’m intent on getting to the nearby land.

  I pump my legs up and down, my breath shallow as I float closer to the sheet of ice. I quickly tire. My boots are laden with icy water. My eyes dip closed and blink open. My vision glistens. I could really go for some birthday cake. This must be a weird dream.

  The cold water suggests otherwise, waking me up.

  I’m so close...

  With one last surge of energy, I thrust myself forward, and crash into the edge of frozen land. I heave myself onto the ice shelf, roll over, and catch my breath as the moon appears from behind a cloud.

  A hot flare surges inside me. Where am I? Am I alive? Did death give me a choice like I offer the demons when they come in for processing?

  Certainty solidifies like the surrounding ice. My mother said she’s spared me and kept me from dying, but I don’t think she meant just now. The pendant around my neck chills my skin as I remember the story of the Sea of Dreams my mother told me—a place of faeries and elves. I’m not a magical being, but maybe my mother was. That sounds weird, but she did have wings I didn’t know about until I found her earlier. I press my hand
to my chest. The pain of losing her shoots through me.

  I inhale. Yes, I’m alive. For now. But she is not. I sniffle, but even that is ominously cold. I have to keep moving.

  I press onto all fours and straighten then walk along what may very well be the jagged edge of the world. The moon lifts higher in the sky, illuminating my path and shining a light on my surroundings—ice and water in every direction.

  I’m still in my work uniform so I have a knife in my belt and a few single-use talismans to subdue demons. Heather snuck them to me when she started with the Force. She said she didn’t want me stuck in a dark alley with a demon and only my fists to defend me—though I’m no slouch when it comes to fighting. In fact, the chancellor at the Magical Management Vocational Academy thought I showed promise, but she said I lacked control and precision. Wrong. I saw a target. Locked on. Wouldn’t let go until they were dead. I possess a deep desire for justice. Allie said it was sometimes like I was possessed by an otherworldly desire to eradicate the world of demons. Doesn’t everyone feel that way?

  With the moon to my left and the lapping ocean to the right, I continue walking. My feet crunch over chunks of ice. I call into the night and then become worried about the kind of response I’ll get. I’ve never heard of demons this far north. They seem to favor cities. But I have a distinct feeling I’m nowhere near home, which begs the question of how the heck did I get here? I’d be a fool not to wonder. But even more foolish not to concentrate on surviving.

  A sudden flash of warmth dismisses my fear then a sharp kraa breaks the silence. A golden bird wings overhead. I must be imagining things.

  As I wander the endless emptiness, searching for civilization, hoping for the sunrise, my steps stiffen as doubt creeps in. Perhaps the sun won’t rise again. Maybe it burned out. The center of my chest chills. My eyes dip closed.

  I pull a protein bar from my pocket and take a nibble—I grabbed it from the snack machine during shift number two but then lost my appetite when a demon self-combusted in front of my desk. Sometimes they do that to avoid being sent to Riker’s.