Poisoned Shadow: An Urban Fantasy Supernatural Detective Mystery (The Shadow Series Book 2) Read online

  “My dear Becka, thank you for joining me.” He took a step closer to her, but there was no hug or embrace.

  “Of course, Vott. I’ve come to suspect you always know when I’m about to arrive. Since you can’t track me, how do you know?”

  “It is true, your Null ability blunts the Oracular aspects of my Air Elemental powers, so tracking you has proven fruitless. However, I can still hone in on everyone else in the house. Therefore, I have learned to track you by association. Your guards, for instance.”

  “That’s a clever trick,” Becka replied, glancing at Luce and Saige, who’d stepped off to the side but were still within earshot. She held Luce’s gaze for a moment, knowing she also understood the significance. Becka made a mental note to discuss Vott’s newfound skill with Quinn on their next call. If Vott had figured that out, so could the Shadow-Dwellers. Not that she’d encountered any hint of them in the months since the attack at Tesse’s funeral, but she hadn’t lowered her guard. Woden had said there would be more.

  “Thank you. Please take a seat.” He gestured to the couches under the main pergola. The table was set with a pair of delicate earthenware mugs with a matching teapot, next to a pair of water glasses. “We can catch up on your progress.”

  “What tea are we having today?” she asked.

  He clasped his hands together, hunching forward in his excitement. “Oh, I broke out the lapsang souchong today. Are you familiar with it?”

  Becka cringed inwardly but schooled her expression. “Yes, it’s a fine black tea, renowned for its flavor.” Which Becka associated with cured salami. Definitely not something she’d ever gained a taste for, or even wanted to.

  “Oh good, you know it!” His smile gleamed. He took a step towards the couches and paused. “One moment, my dear. It appears someone forgot to set out the honey.”

  “That’ll never do,” Becka replied.

  Vott wandered over to a cabinet near the door and rummaged through it, no doubt hunting down the missing honey.

  Becka took a seat on the couch across from where Vott had been sitting, grateful for the wafting breeze which danced through the pergola’s sheer curtains. The tea set was one she didn’t recognize. The delicate quality and artisan green crackle glaze spoke to its superior craftsmanship. She’d never seen this set in use before and wondered why it was out today. Was Vott signaling an elevated importance to this conversation? Ever since her return, Becka had needed to relearn the nuances of fae society. Surely, the selection of this set was no coincidence, but further meaning eluded her.

  Leaning forward, she picked up the mug closest to her, filled halfway with the lapsang tea. Shuddering in anticipation of the potent and foul brew, Becka noticed Vott’s cup was mostly empty.

  Will he notice if I don’t drink his favorite tea?

  Becka didn’t see any harm in adding her tea to his cup.

  Glancing over to where he stood at the cabinet and seeing that he was still seeking the elusive honey, she leaned across the table and poured the entire contents of her cup into his. She wiped a stray dribble from the side of her mug against her linen pants, then refilled her cup from one of the water glasses.

  She looked to Luce, who was watching her and shaking her head. Becka shrugged at her, and then sat back in her seat, hoping Vott wouldn’t notice the pale color of the liquid in her mug, despite the bright moonlight.

  “Found it!” Vott announced, returning to the pergola with a honeypot in hand.

  “Fantastic.”

  He sat and placed the honey onto the table before picking up his mug again. “I see you’ve refilled my cup. Thank you.” He settled back into the couch, added a bit of honey to his cup, and took a long sip of tea.

  Becka joined him, sipping the water from her own mug. Despite having poured out all the tea, there was still a distinctive tannic residue present. And yet she drank, anxiously awaiting hearing what was on his mind.

  “Does the flavor bring back memories?” he asked.

  “It certainly does,” Becka replied, nodding along with him. “What did you want to talk about?”

  His expression turned pained. “Must I always have an agenda planned when meeting with my eldest?”

  Becka wanted this banter to feel natural. Comforting. But there was a wall between them from her time spent separate from fae territories that neither quite seemed to know how to breach.

  “No, but I’m guessing you’re not going to let my earlier faux pas pass without comment. I swear I dropped that bottle of hot sauce by accident.”

  “It is on my mind, but never mind the hot sauce. No harm came from it.” He frowned. “Are you aware it has been three months since you returned home for Tesse’s funeral?”

  “I’m aware.” She took another sip. A cool breeze blew through, rustling the wisteria and perfuming the air. She took another sip of the water, feeling suddenly lethargic. Perhaps the long day was finally getting to her?

  “How do you think you are getting along?” He paused, brow furrowed. He took another sip of tea. “I mean, how are you adapting to life back amongst the fae?”

  No one had asked her so directly since her return, and she found it refreshing. “I don’t feel at ease here. At least, not yet. I’m continuing to struggle to control my powers, despite months of training with Astrid. Perhaps if I’d been another illusionist I’d fit in with the guild and the house better, or be easier to train?”

  “Astrid ramps up her training as students progress, increasing their challenges as they gain control. Surely you are farther along than you realize?”

  Becka shrugged, noticing a surprising stiffness in her shoulders. “I know it’s only been three months, but I don’t think others here see the value in a Null. In my powers. I’m not sure I do either.” Becka yawned.

  Vott mirrored her yawn. “You are more than a nn-Null. You are Ro… Rowan,” he stuttered. “The house needs you.”

  “I know you say that,” Becka drawled out, her words slurring. “You say that every time. But I don’t think that most of the fae in House Rowan like me. I think they’d prefer if I wasn’t here.”

  Did I really just say that with my outside the head voice? What’s come over me?

  “Please do not speak ill of your family. You have not even given most of them the opportunity to get to know you.”

  “It’s hard to find time when I spend most of my days practicing my gift.”

  Vott’s eyes fluttered shut, he slumped over, and then the mug fell out of his hand, rolled along the couch, and hit the deck at their feet with a loud crack.

  “Luce!” Becka tried to yell, but it came out as a mumble. The shifter was already there, patting Vott’s cheeks and checking for a pulse. His pallor was shifting into shades of gray as Becka watched through eyes increasingly difficult to keep open.

  Luce called out and then pressed a button on a radio she carried at her waist. Fae and shifter guards alike filled the space in seconds.

  Becka found herself looking up into Brent’s grave features, his bulk a wide shadow against the stars shining through the roof of the pergola. In the months since her return, she’d gotten used to Brent’s constant presence around her father. The head of Vott’s contingent of shifter guards, the stocky, unflappable wolf was nearly inseparable from her father. Brent was quick to smile, and always made her feel safe and at ease.

  She couldn’t remember the wolf shifter ever appearing so angry and scared at the same time. The wrath in his steely blue eyes alarmed her.

  “We’re moving you to the infirmary, Becka,” he assured her. “You’ll be all right.”

  She tried to answer, but the words came out slurred. Becka tried to stand up, but her limbs flailed in response to her efforts.

  In moments she was slung over Brent’s shoulder, her bleary gaze connecting with Luce behind her.

  “Stay with me,” Luce said.

  Try as Becka might, her world faded to black.

  Chapter 3

  Anxiety peaked Becka’s hear
t rate, increasing the pounding discomfort in her head. She’d forgotten something important. There was danger. She’d been here before. Stuck. Unable to move. Trapped.

  She heard herself groan but couldn’t move her limbs. The memory of being tied down and helpless shot another spike of adrenaline through her veins, and she jerked and flailed her arms and legs to escape. Was that blood she smelled?

  Becka’s swollen tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth and her head throbbed with the force of her heartbeat. Through the cotton filling her ears, she struggled to make out muffled voices.

  A light touch pressed down on her shoulder. “You’re safe here, Becka,” came a voice she recognized, but couldn’t place. The world spun around her.

  She tried to open her eyes, finally gaining a bit of control over her body. Eyelids fluttering open, she looked up to see Illan standing over her, concern knitting his brows. Looking around the room, Becka immediately recognized House Rowan’s infirmary and its healer, Illan of House Birch. An apprentice worked alongside Illan, but Becka didn’t know her name. She just recognized the healer’s customary long white robes accented with light-blue embroidery.

  The upper walls and ceiling of the room had been enchanted to appear as if they were out in the forest, surrounded by pine and aspen swaying overhead in the breeze. An illusory finch flitted by, lighthearted birdsong filling the air as it passed. Additionally, wide windows lined the room, and a few were open to let in the fresh air. Surely most patients appreciated the distracting display, but her head ached at least in part to the presence of the magic around her.

  She took a deep breath, which was harder than it should have been.

  For a moment, she’d been back in the solitude meditation retreat with Woden. That episode had driven dozens of nightmares, keeping her awake and stargazing until the dawn arrived to chase away the darkness. She’d never feared the dark before, not until the Shadow-Dwellers had found her.

  A tremor shook through her limbs at the thought. She worked her mouth, and Illan anticipated her need, producing a small bowl of ice chips. He scooped up a fragment and held it to her lips.

  “Try this. It’ll help with the dry mouth.”

  He slid the ice chip past her lips, and the refreshing, cool liquid bathed her tongue and freed it from the roof of her mouth. A relieved sigh escaped her and something about the act, be it the water, the cold, or just the interaction, roused her mind into a heightened state of awareness.

  After she’d worked the ice around her mouth until it disappeared, Becka tried talking again. “Another?” she croaked out.

  He smiled, but there was sorrow in his eyes. “Here you go.”

  Becka gratefully accepted the ice chip. Moving her arms around, she realized one had an IV with a bag of something hanging above her on a pole.

  “What happened?” Becka asked, her cracking voice a whisper. A foggy memory of sitting under wisteria with Vott flashed through her mind. That awful lapsang tea. Vott’s gray pallor as he slumped over. His mug rolling to the ground. “How is my father?”

  Illan fed her another ice chip and then sat down on the bed next to her. He ran a hand over his face, pulling at a light dusting of whiskers which must have taken two or three days to grow.

  “You and Vott were poisoned, but you do not appear to have gotten as large a dose as he did. When Vott arrived here, he was catatonic. I was able to do a measure of healing on him, but something in the potency or composition of the poison limited my gift and I have had to resort to non-magical methods to further aid him. I have him in the next room on a ventilator, but I cannot predict his recovery.”

  Images of Woden’s enraged face flashed through her mind. He’d said others would come for her. She’d barely had time to learn about her powers. Becka didn’t feel ready for this. Now Vott, her father, had borne the brunt of the attack this time.

  Remembering her flippant, hurtful comments to him, her heart wrenched, and tears filled her eyes. What if those were the last words he’d heard? What if he died and she never got to apologize?

  Seeing her distress, Illan leaned over her, touching her shoulder. “You’re safe, Becka.”

  “Do you mean you don’t know how long it will take for him to recover, or whether he will recover?”

  Illan shrugged, his expression pained. “He survived the initial exposure, and in the past two days he has stabilized, so I am hopeful.”

  “I’ve been knocked out for two days?” Her head spun again.

  He nodded.

  Who else would get hit in the crossfire between her and the Shadow-Dwellers? Her heart sank and more tears flowed.

  “We are still figuring out what they used. You both responded well to the cures for nightshade, but some signs point towards strychnine also being in the mix. I am not a chemist, but we have people looking deeper into the poison to better treat you both. Samples have also been sent to the enforcer labs for analysis.”

  Becka frowned. “Isn’t strychnine used in rat poison?”

  “Yes.”

  “I didn’t think fae used rat poison.”

  “No, no we do not, which is why I found it so odd. I am used to testing for the nightshade; it is not an uncommon plant for horses to run into, as it’s native to our grazing meadows. The enforcer techs will finalize the analysis of the other components.”

  Becka perked up. Did Quinn return with them? “Enforcers are here?”

  “Yes, they came as soon as we reported the incident. And yes, Enforcer Quinn is among them.”

  A mixture of anticipation and anxiety roiled through Becka, followed by the lassitude of exhaustion. She’d only been awake for a few minutes and already it was difficult to keep her eyes open.

  She desperately wanted to see Quinn again. It had been months since they’d stood face to face. They’d since communicated via message and email about potential clues to the ongoing Shadow-Dweller threat, but no calls. He’d kept his physical and emotional distance.

  And why wouldn’t he? I’m still engaged to Alain.

  Illan set the bowl down on the bedside table. “You need to rest. We can talk more later.”

  Becka’s gaze drifted towards movement at the door, spying Saige waiting expectantly. Illan strode over to the door, motioning to someone out in the hall.

  “I don’t think she’s up for company right now. I’d prefer that she rest,” she heard Illan say.

  “I’m afraid we don’t have the luxury of time,” came the reply, which Becka recognized as Astrid’s voice.

  A moment later, Astrid and Maura followed him back in. Astrid’s face was tear-streaked, and her cheeks were pinked. Maura’s pallor was gray, and Becka had the impression her well-groomed poise was the only thing keeping her together.

  No doubt nearly losing her husband had pushed Maura to the limit. Looking back at them through her own tears, Becka hoped some of those tears were concern for her and not just for her father. She didn’t envy the weight her mother carried on her shoulders.

  They walked up to her and took up positions around the foot of the bed. Becka’s anxiety spiked, and for now at least all thought of falling asleep fled.

  “We’ve all been holding our breath for your successful recovery,” Maura said. “Illan has determined that your health will recover, but Astrid needs to confirm that your powers aren’t altered.”

  Becka’s heart ached at their words. Oh great, they aren’t here to check on me, just my powers.

  “I feel all right overall,” Becka replied. Maura and Astrid glanced at her but didn’t appear satisfied.

  Do they even care how I’m doing?

  “Based on how she’s rebounded compared to Vott, it leads me to think her dose was nominal. We’ll know more once the techs finish analyzing the blood work,” Illan explained.

  “Doesn’t feel nominal,” Becka said.

  “I am sure it does not,” Maura said. “Your father was not as fortunate as you.”

  Becka felt the tears run down her cheeks, and her next words
came out in a rush. “I’m so sorry, Maura. I didn’t want to drink the tea, so I poured my tea into Vott’s cup. If I’d drunk the tea myself, Vott wouldn’t have been poisoned.”

  A flash of anger contorted Maura’s face, but she quickly regained her composure, dabbing at the tears on her cheeks with a kerchief. “We don’t yet know how the poisoning happened or who was targeted. Besides, if you had received a more potent dose, then you might be dead now or in a coma next to Vott. I am grateful that you appear to be rebounding, but we need verification that your gift is fully intact, which I will leave in Astrid’s capable hands. Now, if you will excuse me, I must get back to Vott.”

  Becka wiped tears away, struck by Maura’s cold reaction. It felt like Maura cared more about Becka’s gift than Becka herself, and perhaps she did? Things hadn’t ever been warm and fluffy between the two of them, Maura not being that sort of mother.

  This situation had cast a bright light on the strain in their relationship. So why did Becka continue to feel disappointed in the distance between them? Why couldn’t she be another aloof fae, not caring what others thought?

  Maura swept out of the room while Astrid remained, her focus narrowing on Becka. Her relationship with her Aunt Astrid was even more complicated. They’d moved beyond the initial tension and distrust from Becka’s return to the manor, but she still felt like Astrid saw her only as a potential resource for the house. It was as if her Null gift was endlessly interesting to Astrid, but Becka as a person, not so much.

  “Help her get dressed,” Astrid said to the apprentice healer, who moved to Becka’s side and helped her sit up. “We will head to the training grounds and see if your gift has suffered.”

  Becka eagerly accepted the young fae’s help, her limbs still not quite feeling fully under her own control.

  “Again, I would prefer to keep her here for observation,” Illan said, stress visible in the narrowing of his lips.

  “Noted, but the heir is coming with me. The sooner we can confirm that her powers are intact, the better for us all.”