Iron Crowned Page 0,27

knew would get me through this last job. Yet, walking up to the client's house, I couldn't stop asking the same questions in my mind. Why hasn't Volusian reported to me yet? Isn't the fight over?

A nervous-looking young woman answered the door, introducing herself as Jenna. She was the one who had made the call, though it wasn't exactly on her own behalf.

"She's in the living room," Jenna whispered to me, letting me inside the foyer. Her eyes were wide with fear. "Just sitting there. Staring."

"Does she speak?" I asked. "Does she answer your questions?"

"Yes ... but ... it's not her. I know that doesn't make sense, but it's not. The people at work think she's just gone crazy. I'm pretty much the only one who still talks to her. She's about to lose her job, but ..." Jenna shook her head. "I swear, it's just not her."

"You're right." I held my wand in my left hand and my silver athame in the right.

"Is she ..." Jenna's voice dropped even lower. "Is she possessed?"

"Not exactly." Lara had warned me about this one. It had initially sounded like possession, but further data suggested otherwise, unfortunately. A possession would have been easier. "It's a fetch. It's like ... I don't know. Her double. Kind of."

"Then ... what happened to Regan?"

I hesitated. "I don't know." I didn't want to tell Jenna there was a strong possibility that Regan was dead. That was the usual fate for a fetch's victim. Of course, fetches usually left once they'd sucked all the energy and goodness from someone's life. If this one was still here, the odds of Regan still being alive were marginally higher. "If ... er, when we find her, she may be in bad shape."

I stared off down the hallway, where I could hear the sound of a TV in the living room. I shifted my grip on my weapons and prepared myself.

"What should I do?" asked Jenna.

"Wait outside. Don't come back inside until I tell you to - no matter what."

Once she was safely away, I set off down the hall. There, in the living room, I found a woman sitting perfectly straight on the couch, her hands folded neatly upon her lap as she stared at the TV. There was a blankness in her brown eyes that told me she wasn't really watching. She didn't even acknowledge my arrival. Glancing around the living room, I took in its space and features, assessing them for a fight. I also noticed a couple pictures on the wall, group shots with Jenna and a smiling brunette who looked exactly like the woman on the couch. Yet, glancing between them, I knew Jenna was right. This wasn't Regan.

"Where's Regan?" I asked.

The fetch didn't look at me. "I am Regan."

"Where's Regan?" I repeated harshly. "What have you done with her?" Please, please let her be alive.

This time, the fetch turned her head, those cold eyes taking me and my weapons in. "I told you. I am Regan."

I had a moment's debate on what to do. Killing the fetch without learning Regan's location would make the next part of this job even more difficult. Yet, as the fetch continued staring at me, I knew she'd recognized what I was and what threat I represented. I had to take her out now, banking on the fact that fetches usually kept their victims close.

I held out my wand and began chanting the words that would drive this creature back to the Otherworld. It was where fetches came from, and a forceful enough banishing was usually enough to deter them from returning. I'd only have to get the Underworld involved if she decided to -

She attacked.

The fetch didn't transform into her true shape as she sprang at me. Rather, she turned into something in the middle. She still wore Regan's face, but it had a sickly green hue. Her eyes were bigger and darker and looked like they'd been stretched out. Her hands and feet were bigger too - and clawed.

She came at me with her full strength, knocking me into a wall mercifully free of furniture. I kneed her in the stomach, needing to get distance between me and the claws trying to rake my face and neck. She fell back a little, not much, but enough to give me more maneuvering room. I swung out with the silver blade, and she recoiled. Iron could inflict lethal blows on the gentry, but silver was the metal of choice for