“I kind of agree, but that’s just too gruesome. Those creatures were humans once. There have to be boundaries.”

  “Then let’s do a massive sedation spray and collect them all, toss them in the iron rooms all at the same time. Sedated with gauntlets and in an iron room, they’ll be harmless and can transition back to human.”

  Craig’s silence was enough to prompt me to fling my eyes open.

  “You don’t agree?”

  “No, I agree, it’s just, what would Amy say about it? Most won’t survive that kind of transition anyway.”

  “She’s unconscious right now. What can she say about it?”

  “She spent time with them. Not much time but enough that she’ll still fight the good fight with them in mind. She’s seen what’s left of their humanity. They’re probably not as different from you and me as you’d think they are. She’ll fight us on exterminating them. I know Amy.”

  I groaned and turned away once more. “I think you’re right. She won’t let us go all in and clear out the clan. Maybe, when she wakes up, she’ll have some intel we can actually use against these vermin.”

  “That’s what I’m hoping.” Craig sighed, remaining quiet for several minutes before I heard his soft snores.

  Silence retook the room, and I lay there, too wired to sleep and too exhausted to move. Craig could always shut off his mind when he needed to. I had too many scenarios drifting in my mind. There were too many reasons why we needed to rid the world of the fae. But if there were too many of them, what would happen if they retaliated? What if they were coming for revenge at that very moment?

  I swallowed and inhaled deeply, hoping to calm my raging heartbeat. If they came, so be it. Let them. We’d take them down somehow, with or without Amy’s input. Even if we had to dangle that male faery in front of them, we would. This was a regulatory agency, not a babysitting club. We’d have to pull out all stops if we were going to win this war.

  Only fools fought wars they couldn’t win.

  Chapter Sixteen

  * * *

  Amy

  I peered around, and my chest seized. I wondered where Atieran was. Was he in pain? Was he hurting? Were they experimenting on him? I didn’t know, and as I slowly peeled my eyes open and peeked around the padded room, I could hear nothing. No muffled voices, no machinery, not even the short hum of the camera lenses focusing as they filmed my every move. My limbs felt like lead and my head like an oversized pumpkin. It was far too heavy to bear. I attempted to roll over. I was lying on my belly, my face laid plastered against the soft cushions of the floor, dampened were I’d been drooling down the side of my cheek. The material stuck to it, and I groaned as I peeled it away.

  Luckily, the room was temperature-controlled, so I wasn’t cold nor did I feel too hot. I didn’t even feel hungry, for my stomach had fallen asleep after bouts of severe nausea from the iron emanating from the vents. My eyes focused on my limbs folded in front of me, my wrists loose and languid, but I could see even with my blurry vision that my color had returned to that of normal human skin.

  I’m me again, aren’t I? I reached out to touch a loose, dark brown curl and let it slide through my fingers. My heart beat faster, elation running through me. I didn’t know what to think. All I knew was that moving from my position was impossible. So, I remained still, concentrating on keeping my eyes opened.

  How many days had it been? Or had it been just hours? No, it had to have been longer than that; I vaguely remembered them giving me several meals. Most of them had been returned untouched. I had barely been able to sip just a minuscule amount of water before I would collapse, too weak to do anything more. How long would I have to stay in this room? Weeks or just days? When would I see Atieran again? Had he been able to turn human again like I had? I wished I had answers, but I didn’t have the strength to use my voice to ask any of the workers who brought me my medications and meals. I’d barely been conscious.

  I blinked, then kept my eyes shut and let sleep overtake me once more. Hours later, or maybe a day, who knows, I opened my eyes once more and stared at the bright pristine walls of the room. This time I heard noises, voices, and I could feel the vibrations of their steps on the ground next to me.

  “Amy? Wake up, Sis!” a voice echoed in my head. For a moment, I thought I was dreaming. Blinking, I glanced over at the figure bent over me, thinking hard and willing my eyes to focus, which they refused to do. It took several minutes to bring my brother’s face into focus.

  “Craig?”

  “Yeah, Pudge. I wondered when you would wake up.”

  “Help me. I can’t even get up.”

  I felt Craig’s strong arms slip beneath mine and lift me up as easily as a feather. He propped me gently against the cushioned wall, letting me brace myself against him as he took a seat next to me. Another minute passed as my vision swayed. I tried to look at him again. He held out a cup of water, beckoning for me to drink. My throat ached, and I eagerly took a few small, cool swallows of fluid. My body thanked him.

  “How long have I been here?” I asked.

  “You’ve been here almost two days now.”

  “That’s it? It feels like an eternity. My body feels like it’s dying; every little joint aches. I’m sick. I have the flu or something dreadful.”

  “It’s just the iron. It’s doing a number on your faery body and won’t feel good, but in the end, it’s for the best. You’ll be back to yourself in no time.”

  “How long will I be down here?”

  “I don’t know, but the last faeries they did this to took about three days to turn back without feeling like they were sick anymore. So, you’ve already got a day and a half or more done. Just about another day and a half more to go.”

  I groaned. “Two more days? I can’t be down here that long. Ridiculous. I need to know how Atieran is doing. Do you know anything about him, Craig?”

  His expression went from warm to cold in a millisecond, his mouth pressing into a thin, severe line. “He’s asked for you, wanting to know how you’re doing too. He’s fine, but he’s on a slightly longer timeline than you are, most likely due to his extreme exposure to the faery magic over many years. However, he does look human already, which is interesting because we tried to transition people who’d been acclimated to faery magic much longer than two to three weeks, but they never returned to their previous state. Eventually, they all died. We’re lucky you got away when you did.”

  “What? I’d never heard of that before. I knew the transition didn’t work if someone had been a faerie for more than two weeks… and I knew that it was dangerous… but no one ever told me they all died. I thought they were let out of the chambers if it was clear the rehabilitation wasn’t working. Why did I not know this?”

  Craig rubbed his head. “They’ve used the excuse that we can’t know for certain who was over the two-week threshold, so it was always better to try and see what happened. Turns out it may have just been an excuse to exterminate them. Look, if it was up to me, I would’ve told you. But I just recently found out a lot of stuff from Becca. She logs all this stuff, but it’s classified. She felt bad about you and Ridley and unloaded all sorts of facts about the faeries on Jay and me this morning. That girl knows more than she lets on. They don’t tell us everything they discover. It’d be bad business to let this stuff get out into the general public. No one wants to hear that they can be turned into faery slaves forever and never be able to return home.”

  “So Atieran… he’s different?”

  “Yes. But if it was up to me, I’d let him sit in the iron room forever. He doesn’t deserve to live for what he’s done to all those people who’ve been stolen and remain with the faery clan. I mean, we barely survived the attack against them. It didn’t go well. Ridley’s in critical condition right now.” Craig’s emotions were locked tight behind the brave face he had on just for me, but I knew that Ridley meant a lot more to my brother than either of them would ever admit.

  I frowned. Th
e rescue mission had been for me. I felt terrible they had put their lives in danger for me. That didn’t excuse what he thought about Atieran though. None of this was his fault.

  “I’m sorry to hear that, Craig, but trust me, it’s not Atieran’s fault.” I sighed, rubbing my head and trying to soothe the pain that remained. “What about Jay? Is he okay?”

  “Yeah, he’s fine. You just concentrate on getting better, you hear me? I’ll bring you up to speed after you do that.”

  I nodded, letting my head lull as the exhaustion hit me once more. Craig lifted me up and carried me back over to the pillow.

  “Love you,” I whispered.

  “Love you too. Get some rest. We’re going to need your help soon enough.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  * * *

  Three years ago

  Amy

  “Don’t hold it that way, you’ll shoot yourself in the eye.” Jay moved the plasma gun out of my hand and clicked the scope on. “There. I swear you’re hopeless, Sis.”

  I jutted out my lip and peered over the gun we’d acquired from a rowdy set of scientist sorcerers who had been commissioned to make weapons for the local vampire mafia who ruled in Wicked Grove. Getting the vampires to honor the treaty they’d signed with the regulatory agency was almost as hard as keeping them from sticking to their own little “reservations” throughout the city. Vampire clans were fickle and were some of the most lethal creatures harbored in the city, but they were also the best allies to have.

  Sometimes living in Wicked Grove got way too complicated.

  I pressed the trigger, clasping the grip with both hands. The kickback was subtle and smooth, as though I hadn’t just unleashed a spray of plasma bullets across the shooting range and into the mannequin standing a hundred feet away. It shattered into a thousand pieces, and I stared wide-eyed at the damage.

  “Whoa! How many of these did they make?” I peered over toward Jay, who was peeking into the crate of weapons. This was just one of many. Good thing the sorcerers had not completed their delivery to the vamps. Any fights against them after they’d acquired these weapons, and we would’ve been toast.

  “One hundred and five. Exactly. We have one hundred and three.”

  “Where are the other two?”

  Jay’s grim expression told me all I needed to know. Unfortunately, we had failed to grab all the weapons in the last raid at the underground lab we’d discovered run by the Vampire mafia. Imprisoned sorcerers were put to work with little sleep and even less to eat until they finished the batch of plasma guns. If we’d been just a few minutes late, we’d have missed the shipment, and it would have been en route to the buyers.

  I hated to think what could’ve become of Wicked Grove Supernatural Regulatory Agency members. We were no match for this kind of magic.

  “And the sorcerers?”

  “They are under investigation and recovering from their ordeal. Unfortunately, we’ll have to make sure they can never make these things again and find out how to destroy the ones we do have. These things could wipe out everyone in our building with one fell swoop. Can’t have that going on.”

  I swallowed, his words making the dryness grow in my throat. “Geez, yeah. Wow. Crazy how we’re always inches away from dying, and yet….”

  “Yes, we were lucky this time. We must remain vigilant. Next time we might not be so fortunate.”

  I groaned. “I told you what I saw in my dreams. It led us to this mess. We did everything right and we got them, didn’t we?”

  “Yes, but we need to make sure we have your dreams analyzed before jumping to conclusions. This could’ve gotten you and the entire team killed.”

  I handed him the plasma gun and crossed my arms. He flipped the safety back on and stuffed it into the crate then closed it with a thud. No one ever trusted my intuitive powers, but they had relied on them more than once. I hated being placed under scrutiny when I’d proved time and time again that what I saw in my dreams usually happened.

  If only all my dreams came through so clearly. Some were murky, incoherent, and odd. Like the recurring one I’d been having lately. One about a green-skinned faery with a crown of thistle and twigs on his head, his eyes as black as night. It was odd because I couldn’t hear him. He never spoke in my dreams, he just watched me like he had a plan in motion, one I wasn’t privy to.

  So far, nothing had come from that dream. I hoped it never would, for the man gave me the creeps and sent shivers down my spine every moment I thought about the dream.

  “You okay, Sis?” Jay leaned over, pressing a hand to my forehead. I swatted him away, aware I probably had just paled at the thought of the faery man in my dreams.

  “I’m fine. Let’s go lock these weapons away for good. Wouldn’t want anyone shooting themselves in the foot, now would we?”

  Jay chuckled but then stared at me seriously. “Why? Did you dream that?”

  I groaned. “No. Just saying.”

  “Don’t scare me like that.”

  “Whatever. You don’t scare easily.”

  “Only when you talk about your dreams.”

  “Trust me, you’ll know if something weird is going to happen.”

  He wrinkled his nose as he took one end of the crate, and I took the other. Together we heaved it onto a dolly which he took to pushing as we left the underground gun range. It was on the fourth sublevel of the Agency building, a hidden complex near the edge of the city of Wicked Grove in northern California. It was one my favorite floors to hang out on. Nothing like shooting bullets to release some pent-up energy.

  “Where’s Craig?” I asked as we entered the lift to head down to sublevel thirteen. I thought it was bad luck to have the cache of secret and lethal weapons on a level with the number thirteen, but I wasn’t the boss there. Ridley wasn’t even in charge of saying where it went here. Superstitions were very much alive in Wicked Grove. They were asking for trouble burying all the weapons we wanted away from any supernaturals on a bad luck number.

  Playing with fire. The way of the Agency. Sweet, I thought. I hoped we’d never face an attack on the facility. We’d have to set off bombs to bury this place forever to make sure no one got ahold of these crazy destructive weapons. Who knew what the vampire mafia could do with the cache we had?

  I knew what I would do with it all, but I tended to keep my opinions to myself.

  “Craig’s with Ridley, making up schematics for the city patrol. The north end has had its share of trouble with a small pocket of trolls. We’ve had to double up the passes on that side of town twice now due to their random guerrilla attacks on civilians. Do you know how many mind alterations we’ve had to do this week from those attacks alone?”

  “Too many is my guess?”

  “Ten! I can’t even imagine what those people must think. Two of them we had to do twice because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time, twice.”

  “They should totally play the lottery with those odds.”

  “I’m serious, Amy.”

  “So am I.” I chuckled as he groaned, but the elevator dinged before he could argue any further. “Oh look, we’re here.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  * * *

  Present Day

  Amy

  “Hey!” I waved up toward the cameras and scowled. Where was everyone? It had to be nighttime; I didn’t think my brothers would have failed to be nearby otherwise. But after an hour of trying to get someone’s attention, I flipped off the camera in the corner and resigned myself to sitting on the floor with my back against the wall. “Hello?”

  The days had blended into one another, and I had to be close to getting out of there. Maybe one or two more days? I couldn’t be sure. The meds made me sleep through the annoying effects of the iron but also confused my internal clock. I felt anxious; I wanted to see Atieran. There should have been no reason why I couldn’t see him now.

  I glared up at the cameras, waving again. “Hey! Is there anybody out there?”

&n
bsp; If only they would answer me. I wanted to see Atieran, my brothers… I wanted out of there. My insides felt much better, but I was trapped in that hole, oblivious to the outside world. I needed to know what was going on outside the iron room. It had affected me more than I’d thought it would, for I hadn’t had any premonition dreams or any kind of visions. I wasn’t used to being so utterly powerless.

  I took my empty plastic cup, which had come with my meal, and flung it toward the camera. It bounced off the lens, but it wasn’t hard enough to do any damage. I was sure the camera was reinforced.

  “Get my brothers in here,” I demanded. “I need to speak with Craig or Jay right now. Wake up, you stupid guard! Do your job.” I frowned at the camera then looked over toward the door, hoping somebody would come in. But nobody came, and the minutes kept ticking by. Had something happened at the facility? Had it been breached? I hoped not, or I’d be stuck in the room with no way out. I groaned in frustration and ran my hands through my hair, which was getting greasy and stringy. I needed a shower badly. Somebody needed to come let me out soon, or I would lose my mind.

  I heard the door shake, the lock clicking before finally swinging open. Craig didn’t look very happy, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe, frowning disapprovingly at me.

  “Hey, Craig. It’s about damn time. What took you guys so long? I swear, whoever’s on night duty is sleeping on the job. I’ve been asking for you guys to come for over two hours.”

  He sighed, looking like he hadn’t slept well in days. I guess that would have made two of us. Three of us, if I included Jay.

  “Sorry, I fell asleep at Ridley’s bedside. I think the guard just stepped way to the bathroom for like five minutes, so I know you haven’t been calling out for hours.”