Spin the Shadows (Dark and Wicked Fae #1) - Cate Corvin Page 0,41
I felt so awkward and unnatural despite the false face I wore, but Calder didn’t seem to notice at all, thankfully.
He took another healthy draught, but before he could wipe his mouth, and before I could lose my nerve or guts, I ducked in and kissed him.
It was like kissing worms. His breath was disgusting and his lips rubbery, and he had no technique. He started licking my mouth like a dog, humping the air under me and making horrible moaning noises.
A few seconds later, he drew back, looking at me with bleary eyes. “Wha—?”
Then he slumped backwards. Mouth open, hand still on his dick, wine bottle leaking all over his bed.
I wasted no time at all. I turned away and pulled my dress away from my chest, hunting for the first of the hidden pockets.
Inside was a little square of white tissue paper, no larger than a human quarter. I fished it out, pressed it flat, and placed it on my tongue.
It dissolved quickly, dissipating the tingling numbness I was beginning to feel on my lips from the aftereffect of Calder’s disgusting kiss, where he had mixed the rotgut alcohol with the contact poison.
I’d kept my mouth closed, but he’d really gone for the gold. With that much of the poison running through his system, he’d be out for almost half a day, at the very least.
“Thank you for being an overeager pig,” I muttered, searching for the next pocket.
The little bug Robin had given me was tiny, nothing more than a microphone. I searched the walls for a likely crack, found too many to choose from, and finally shoved the bug in one that would be above the eye-level of both the satyr and his bodyguards.
With the mic pointed outwards, we’d pick up any conversation he had in this room, and maybe some from the next if we were lucky.
Finally, I unzipped his leather jacket, fishing his phone out. It took only a second to push the little card into the empty slot, and another ten minutes to let the cloning program download to the device.
When that was done, I stuffed the card back in my dress and replaced the phone in Calder’s jacket.
Then there was nothing to do but wait. I had no idea how long Calder usually took with the water nymphs he hired, but I gave it the promised half an hour, shifting from foot to foot because there was nowhere to sit.
Once I tried to go through a cardboard box, hoping to find some sort of evidence that Brightkin had been here, but a roach crawled over my fingers and nearly sent me screaming into the next room. Besides, there was nothing worthwhile in the box. It was full of stiff-paged porn magazines, all featuring nereids.
Although I supposed that might’ve been a good place to hide something, given that no sane Fae would want to touch it.
When my half an hour was up, I scrubbed my fingers through my hair and whipped it around a few times, used my fingers to smear my lipstick, and tugged my dress into slight disarray.
The Dullahans were sitting at the table when I pushed the door open. “He fell asleep,” I announced, shaking my head.
Neither of them looked up. There was a spread of cards across the table, but they didn’t move, their headless bodies just sitting in silence.
I shrugged, like they weren’t worth my time, and pushed the door open.
The tunnel was quiet when I emerged, the drip of water the only sound. I exhaled and almost gagged, thinking about Calder’s mouth on mine. Maybe if I showered in pure bleach, I’d feel clean again.
I chose the path leading back to the Skin Market, shivering in the chill of the tunnels. It felt so much colder than before… or maybe it was just the adrenaline rush of pulling off a real mission.
It wasn’t until I saw the frost creeping along the wall that I realized the chill wasn’t from the tunnels, or my adrenaline, at all.
14
Jack Frost’s footsteps were so quiet I almost couldn’t hear them. Only the faint splash of water told me he was coming from ahead, and I squinted into the darkness.
His white suit was a beacon, somehow pristine despite the general slime and grime of the Undercity tunnels, and his smile was as cold as the frozen-over puddles underfoot.
“How interesting to see you here, Briallen Appletree. I wasn’t under the impression this was your sort of place.”