Page 5 of Hidden

Rafe relaxed, putting away his weapon. “Sorry. I’m not taking any chances.”

“You saw the fae?” she asked, not bothering with small talk.

He’d never quite placed her accent. It was Mediterranean—maybe Spanish—with a generous helping of old South. Her low voice was like the purr of a big cat—relaxed and lazy until the teeth came out.

“I followed another fae up the side of the valley,” Rafe replied. “There’s a glamour hiding an enormous modern mansion. That has to be the fae headquarters.”

“Or not. Their headquarters would be inaccessible by mere mortals. That sounds like a way station.”

“A what?”

“It’s like a fae hotel. I thought I knew them all, but apparently this one is off the radar. They use them as staging points for a long journey.”

Izetta stood with her weight on one hip, arms folded. She was dressed in black jeans and a leather jacket, a cloud of curling dark hair framing her face. Despite her youthful appearance, Rafe knew she had more battle experience than he would ever see.

“Journey to where?” Rafe asked.

Izetta gave a small shrug. “I’ve heard rumors the Forest King is moving his court. I don’t know why and don’t really care. This, though, is different.”

She pulled out her phone. “A contact sent me this. It’s from a security camera at the Widow’s Walk.” She handed him the device.

A video was cued to play on the screen. Rafe tapped it and watched as the inside of a club came into view. It was good quality for surveillance video, although as usual there was no sound. The camera was aimed at the bar, but he could see part of the dance floor on the right.

“What am I looking for?” he asked.

“The end of the bar. Wait.”

A tall figure in a loose tunic and tight pants climbed onto one of the tall stools. He lounged against the bar with his back to the camera, managing never to show his face. All Rafe could see was a thick fall of pale hair held back with a fancy clip.

“Definitely a fae,” he said.

“I know, right?” Izetta said. “I think half their body weight is leave-in conditioner.”

A second later, two more figures, both female, came into the frame. Rafe zoomed in as the smaller of the two leaned in to kiss the fae with enthusiasm and a good deal of tongue. A long necklace of freshwater pearls swung as she moved. “I know her. She’s one of yours.”

“Malatest’s girl. Her name is Sadie.” Malatest was one of the major players among the Undead. “She’s a few nails short of a coffin, if you know what I mean.”

It was then he caught sight of the second female. A werecat who’d turned up dead a week ago. “That’s one of the Magician’s victims.”

“The last known sighting of her. By all indications, we’re looking at footage of the Magician himself.”

“Damn.” Rafe scrolled back and watched the whole thing again, confirming that the Magician never showed his face. “What does he do to them?”

Izetta shook her head. “I don’t know.”

“But this is good.” Rafe handed her phone back. “This is as close as we’ve got to him.”

“Unless he’s inside your invisible mansion.”

“Let’s find out.” Rafe started toward the path.

“Not so fast.” Izetta unzipped one of her jacket’s many pockets and extracted a blue glass jar. “Faery ointment. It has to touch your eyeballs, even if it stings. Very traditional.”

In his haste, Rafe had forgotten that he’d asked her to bring a charm against the glamour spell. “Who made this?”

“Madam Corbeau. I shop at New Broom Metaphysical Supplies in West Harbor.”

“That’s a bit out of your way.”

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