Spin the Shadows (Dark and Wicked Fae #1) - Cate Corvin Page 0,4
bay, and all of the buildings were whitewashed and plastered with shells and pearls. The smell of saltwater usually filled the breeze that came off the river.
Today, the rain had let up, but the breeze was nonexistent, which meant my bun had become a poofy mass and my clothes stuck to my skin uncomfortably.
And worse, the Seelie Garda were stationed on every street corner.
The block where the Ghosthand Killer had taken down their latest victim was cordoned off. Fae of every variety were pressed in against it, the journalists the most vicious among them to get to the front. The flying Garda had their hands full keeping the sylph and pixie paparazzi from snapping photos.
A news van was parked up against a curb, and I slowed my pedaling to a crawl as a cameraman crouched in front of a stunning beautiful Gentry Fae in a suit.
Her chestnut hair gleamed with a thousand highlights in shades of autumn, and her blue eyes were like the winter sky: blue, but deceptively cold.
Everyone in Avilion knew Oriande Snowdrop, the head of Seelie Public Relations. Aside from Queen Titania herself, and her tabloid-fodder offspring, Oriande was probably the most famous Gentry Fae in Avilion.
Oriande straightened her suit jacket and batted an overly helpful pixie away from her hair, then held a microphone to her mouth as they began the broadcast. “Good afternoon, Avilion! We interrupt our traditionally-scheduled broadcast with an update on the Ghosthand Killer-”
I realized I was gawking at the famous Gentry and stepped on the pedals, speeding downhill over the shell-paved road and skidding to a stop when I’d reached my next destination, the Oyster Marina.
The package was addressed to one of the Mer. I scooped it out of the basket and walked my bike to the edge of the marina, where a number of large, gleaming fish lurked just beneath the skin of the water.
I knelt down, keeping a hand on my bike. “I have a package addressed to Shelleissei Merion,” I called, and one of the fish broke the surface of the water, its scales gleaming in shades of lapis and mint.
It opened its mouth wide and I dropped the package in. With a splash of its fins, the fish disappeared into the almost-black depths of the bay.
I stood up, my legs already tired enough to protest any more cycling, but Thornwood was another seven miles away, and almost entirely uphill.
But all I had to do was think of Ioin and I was on my bike, pedaling like my life depended on it. By the time I got home, I’d be too hungry and tired to think about him at all.
I was almost too hungry now to keep going, having skipped both breakfast and lunch. My stomach rumbled and cramped painfully as the sun began to sink behind Avilion’s tall buildings, lighting up the glassine spires of the Seelie Palace in the distance like a living sunrise.
“No food until you’re done,” I muttered. The last place I wanted to be after full dark was out on the street. Just because the Ghosthand didn’t tend to strike more than once every full moon didn’t mean there wasn’t a first time for everything.
The white buildings of the Acionna gradually became more traditional architecture. Every house on the street I took had balconies spilling over with green ferns and blossoming flowers.
It was a longer route to Thornwood, but it was better than crossing near Sobek Street, where the Unseelie and Solitary Fae held sway.
Night had completely fallen by the time I reached the huge iron gates to Thornwood. A Garda in a crisp green uniform halted me with a scowl and one raised hand, displaying six fingers.
“Identification, please.” The look on his feline face made it clear he didn’t think much of my damp hair and short shorts. Or maybe it was just the fact that I was a Lesser Fae trying to enter the wealthiest district in Avilion.
I dug in my pocket, cursing the skintight shorts, and pulled out my ID card. He made it a face when he gripped it by the corner.
“Sorry about the sweat,” I said blithely.
His lip curled as he examined the card. “Briallen Appletree… Lesser Fae, dryad… place of residence, Mothwing Falls. Temporary Residency.” The Garda swiped my ID through a chip scanner. “Reason for entry?”
I didn’t have the energy to be rude, although it was obvious by my bike, the basket, and my shirt why I would be there. “Package courier for Fairy Ferry.”