Table of Contents

heartsways - Darkening The Light

Darkening The Light - Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14

Part 15

Part 16

Part 17

Part 18

Part 19

Part 20

Part 21

Part 22

Part 23

Part 24

Part 25

Part 26

Part 27

Part 28

Part 29

Part 30

Part 31

Part 32

Part 33

Part 34

Part 35 - Final Chapter

Epilogue

LOST GIRL - BO/LAUREN

Darkening The Light

heartsways

Title: Darkening The Light

Author: heartsways

Rating: NC-17

Fandom: Lost Girl

Pairing: Bo/Lauren

Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.

Summary: A sequel to “Ways To Tell You I’m Sorry”, Bo and Lauren are finally in a relationship, which is proving difficult enough for them both to manage. Throw in some dead Fae and The Ash’s intrusion into their lives and it becomes even harder…

Author’s Note: You can find “Ways” @ http://heartsways.livejournal.com/#asset-heartsways-103163.

Darkening The Light

heartsways

The cell phone suddenly came to life, casting an eerie luminescence onto the ceiling above and buzzing frantically where it lay on the bedside table. As though attuned to the grating noise, one of the figures in the bed stirred and let out a faint groan from within the comforting, warm depths of bedclothes covering limbs peaceably entwined in one another. As she began to delicately extricate herself from the arm thrown over her torso, there was a momentary flicker of pleasure at how sleeping alone was no longer the default routine. How sleeping with someone else was the beginning and end to almost every day and how that in and of itself was the necessary accompaniment to restful slumber.

Although, at this present moment in time, sleep was becoming increasingly more elusive as the cell phone continued its intrusive flashing and vibrating, hell bent on ruining the most restful, intimate moments of the bed’s occupants.

Cracking open a single eyelid, Lauren gazed balefully at the tiny machine as though she could demand it to stop by sheer will power alone. When it didn’t, and when the vibrations began to visibly move it across the wooden surface of the bedside table, she fully opened her eyes and leaned up in the bed, shoving the coverlet from her shoulders and reaching out with a sleep-numbed hand towards the cell phone. It buzzed dangerously close to the edge of the bedside table before she swept it up and squinted at the brightly lit face, her expression one of disconsolate recognition as she discerned the name flashing up onscreen.

Flipping it open, she held it to her ear and mumbled a greeting that left the caller aware, in no uncertain terms, of her desire to roll over and go back to sleep. But the voice that spoke to her was clipped, an urgency to it that made her catch her breath, all designs on a peaceful night scattering from her brain.

“Yes,” she nodded, keeping her voice low so as not to wake the slumbering body beside her. “Yes, I understand. I'll… I'll be there as soon as I can.”

The caller ended the conversation abruptly and Lauren dropped her arm, staring at the cell phone with undisguised resentment before pressing a button and switching it off. She replaced it onto the bedside table with a sigh, her empty hand coming up to brush over her brow and swipe at her eyes, still a little bleary with the vestiges of what she’d hoped would be a good night’s sleep. It was only when a pair of arms slid around her torso that she removed her hand and let it drop down to cover the fingers that were, even now, pressing against the ribbed material of her tank top as a lithe, muscular body moved behind her own.

“Was that him?” Bo’s voice carried the guttural weight of sleep and she shifted upwards in the bed, resting her chin on Lauren’s naked shoulder.

There was no point in lying. Lauren had learned that for all the untruths she might have told other people, in the manufactured sanctuary of their bed there should be no lies. Not anymore. Not even the ones she told herself so that she might have some protection against the onslaught of fear always at her back.

“Yeah.” She nodded, shoulders slumping a little.

“Wow,” Bo said, in a tone that informed Lauren precisely how the Succubus felt about such nighttime interruptions. “That’s the third time in almost as many days.”

Lauren couldn’t help the wry smile that spread over her lips. The Ash had always called her whenever he wanted, ignorant of the sort of consideration other employers might have shown. But being his ward meant that she was, quite literally, at his beck and call. Besides, since resuming her work for him, he had taken to testing her in insignificant and yet telling ways. It was almost as though his desire to punish her hadn’t abated, or ended with her trials in the netherworlds. His demeanor hadn’t changed - he bore no outward signs of animosity in his speech or stance - but his methods had become just that infinitesimal amount more taxing.

He still relied on her of course, just as he always had, but now he seemed to take some sort of malicious pleasure in waking her at all hours and demanding her presence in the labs. Her staff were, it seemed, inadequate by comparison. She’d tried to take it as a backhanded compliment but when he woke her from a night with Bo, she found that it pricked at her pride with invisible needles that pierced her skin - and her sense of self - in the most painful of ways.

In the past, when The Ash’s calls had come in the early hours of the morning, she had left her lonely bed with something like relief. There had been no warm body beside her own, no arms draped over her waist. No sound of another’s breathing to steady her own when she woke. The temptations that might have kept her from work had been sadly absent. And the distractions that might cause her devotion to The Ash to waver were non-existent.

Things were different now.

Everything was different now.

Thank God, Lauren thought, turning in Bo’s embrace, the two women lying back down in the bed for an all too brief moment of conscious intimacy.

“The Fae don’t tend to keep business hours, Bo,” she said by means of explanation. “You know that.”

Bo grunted and nestled a little closer so that their bodies lay flush against one another under the covers. It was a strange feeling, Lauren thought to herself. She’d spent so many nights alone that she had come to accept her solitude and worn it every day like the lab coat she threw on at work. And even though this closeness was still in its infancy, she knew that she was beginning to forget how it had been to sleep alone, wake alone, eat alone.

Bo was greedy for her - for her time and affections. When Lauren had suggested that perhaps they didn’t need to spend every night together, Bo had looked at her askance and asked if she was joking. Bo’s childlike needs had dominated their progress, which was why Lauren ended up in the Succubus’ bed more often than not. Why she was here now, despite her initial intention to stay away and find some protection in the familiarity of loneliness, just in case she might need to don her armor once more should things go awry.

But giving in to Bo - giving in to the demands made on her by someone she loved almost to distraction - was a hitherto unexperienced pleasure. Lauren hadn’t expected this, much less thought she might even enjoy it. And the unbridled joy that the simple contact of skin on skin provided; the comfort that waking up beside someone else gave her thrust a sharp happiness into her chest and caught in her throat every time she felt it. She’d tried prurience. Tried taking it slowly. She hadn’t made any promises to herself that she would be unable to keep.

And yet… the promises that Bo whispered in her ear late at night, and the declarations of emotion that were meant only for Lauren were as seductive as the Succubus’ abilities. Lying in Bo’s arms night after night, Lauren had begrudgingly accepted that the time for hesitation was long gone. She couldn’t have mustered up the will to resist even if she’d tried. And she despised herself for being so vulnerable, while reveling in the fact that she even could be.

“He does it on purpose, you know.” The Succubus’ voice was muffled, her face pressed against Lauren’s shoulder.

Lauren let out a murmuring laugh and allowed herself the luxury of sweeping a hand down Bo’s back, tracking her fingers over the delicate musculature that belied the strength it held. She never got tired of touching Bo - not since that very first moment when she’d drifted her fingertips over the Succubus’ body and had been entranced by what they felt. Bo was a perfect specimen of bone, tissue, skin… of life itself. She’d never admit it, of course, but Lauren sometimes thought she’d never get used to how beautiful Bo was. How blessed she felt to have this woman in her life. In her bed. In her arms and heart.

But Bo was also infuriatingly resentful and she still wasn’t done being angry at The Ash for what he’d put Lauren through. In fact, the doctor mused thoughtfully, Bo had transferred her anger at Lauren’s desire to work for him again onto the Fae himself, as though he was responsible for the decisions that the doctor had made. There were very few explanations that would satisfy the Succubus, and in the end Lauren had all but given up trying to justify her return to work for the Light Fae. Bo was many things - many wonderful, indescribable things. But she was as stubborn as a mule and wholly unforgiving when it came to The Ash.

Thinking back on what she’d experienced under his ‘care', Lauren had to secretly admit that she wasn’t altogether surprised. She might not yet trust in the depth of Bo’s feelings for her, but the evidence to the contrary was fairly indisputable. Bo wanted to protect her. In a life that had, to all intents and purposes, been lived alone, Lauren was still trying to acclimate herself to the mere notion, never mind the emotions it surged in her chest.

“Hm,” she turned her head, looking at Bo’s beside her and smiling indulgently. “I’m pretty sure The Ash hasn’t been going around killing Light Fae just to mess up our sleep schedule, Bo.”

The Succubus lifted her head and stared at Lauren with curious eyes. She didn’t understand Lauren’s allegiance to The Ash, much less the doctor’s desire to continue working for him after all she’d endured at his hand. But Lauren’s insistence on making excuses for him was beyond her ken. So as her gaze narrowed, she bit at her lower lip, trying to stop herself from blurting out the insults that sprang so readily to her tongue and attempting to quell the flare of anger that burned in her chest at his intrusion on their life.

“He’s got other doctors, Lauren.” She spoke slowly, hoping that the doctor wouldn’t hear the ire in her tone. From the expression that flitted across the planes of Lauren’s face, Bo knew that she’d failed.

“Uh… thanks?” Lauren was faintly amused and almost definitely offended. All transgressions aside, The Ash called her because she was the best. And that was something she was reluctant to surrender in order to indulge Bo’s animosity.

“I didn’t mean that… ” Bo was immediately apologetic, ducking her head and dropping a kiss onto Lauren’s naked shoulder, her arms snaking even further around the other woman’s body.

“I know,” Lauren said, reaching up to push at some stray tendrils of black hair that had fallen over Bo’s shoulder and seeing the Succubus visibly relax. “But you have to understand that when The Ash needs me, I’m honor-bound to be there. This used to happen before you and I were together, and it’s not going to stop just because we are. I owe him more than just being available in the daytime, Bo. I owe him everything. And whatever happened to me was my own fault, not his.”

Her voice was soft, almost reverent. She and Bo had clashed over her fealty to The Ash. And it would be too easy to refuse to work for him again; too simple to imagine that she could separate herself from the life he’d created for her. Bo didn’t understand that at all, and had railed against it, throwing out threats with the sort of impulsive, hasty nature that overruled sense and caution.

But in surviving his trials and punishment, Lauren had only succeeded in aligning herself even more closely with him. His only acknowledgement of her strength and tenacity to return to his care had been a visit he’d paid her in the lab a few days after she had recovered. He’d been surprised by her fortitude, he told her. He hadn’t ever suspected that a human could have proved themselves in a way that she had, and his reward to her was that he would allow her to continue her work for him. But there had been a note of suspicion in his voice; a rumbling thunder warning her that her association with Bo would bring her undoing in the end. Humans and Fae were simply not meant to be together, he’d said. But he was willing to momentarily overlook her frailties if she would pledge herself to him once more.

And she had.

It seemed that in doing so, he was satisfied. For the time being.

Looking at the Succubus now, Lauren felt apprehension clench briefly inside her chest. For as long as The Ash was interested in Bo, he would tolerate Lauren’s association with her. He would use it. Use both of them. Use her in any way he chose for as long as he liked.

But nobody could predict how long that would be. Not Bo, and certainly not Lauren. And they lived on borrowed time in this world, never knowing when their happiness could be at stake in the greater game being played.

“He’s not the enemy,” Lauren said softly, her fingers dancing across Bo’s cheek.

The Succubus’ mouth twisted in disagreement, but she was wise enough not to give vent to it. They had argued about Lauren’s return to the Light off and on for so long that both of them were reluctant to enter into that particular discussion any more. All they did was go round in circles and end up right back where they started. So it had been removed from any and all conversations in the hope that if they just ignored it, it would go away.

Which it clearly hadn’t, judging from the conflicted expressions flitting across Bo’s features.

“He’s not exactly a friend, either,” the Succubus finally said, eyeing Lauren with reprove.

The doctor shifted, her hand falling from Bo’s face and onto the coverlet with a dull thud. “No, he’s not,” she agreed. “He’s so much more than that, and I know you don’t understand it, but it’s what I need to do, Bo.”

“You don’t have to,” the Succubus grumbled, her lower lip pushing outwards and making her look for the entire world like a recalcitrant child. “You could do something else. Anything else!”

“You think I could leave the Fae? Leave the Light? Come on, Bo.” Rolling her eyes, Lauren let out a sigh. “Do you honestly think I could go back to the human world knowing what I know… having seen all the things I’ve seen and be happy? Be fulfilled?”

It was an uncommon position that Lauren found herself in, being a human who could educate a Fae. Bo was an anomaly in the Fae world. She was bereft of the training and guidance that most Fae children received from their respective clans. At this age, Bo should have a full understanding of how being Fae was something no human could comprehend. But she clung to human mores as though they could insinuate themselves into her life and fill the void that her childhood had seared into her sense of self. It was so important, Lauren thought to herself. Fae had to not only know who they were, but what they were. And Bo was still learning the intricate wonders of her Fae self and trying to aggregate them with the human she had longed to be. The notion that it would be easy to leave the Fae world behind was anathema to Lauren.

But Bo was still catching up on that.

“I have to go,” she said softly, attempting to detach herself from Bo’s grasp.

The Succubus let out a begrudging sigh and reluctantly slid her hand from Lauren’s body. She rolled back onto the bed, a noise of irritation grumbling in her throat and turned accusatory eyes onto the doctor, blinking rapidly as Lauren switched on the lamp beside the bed, casting a warm glow of light throughout the room.

“So what’s so important that you have to go to work now, anyway?” she asked, as Lauren threw back the covers and swung her legs over the side of the bed, reaching for her clothes. Glancing at the clock she kept on her bedside table, Bo squinted at it and shook her head. “It’s stupid o'clock in the morning, Lauren!”

“We’ve had a spate of deaths lately. The Ash thinks that someone out there is not happy with the Light Fae and is making that very clear to us.” Lauren shoved at her tank top, lifting it over her head and shrugging it off. She glanced back over her shoulder at Bo and pursed her lips. “Dyson’s been on the case but can’t make head or tail of it. Usually something like this would indicate clan wars, but all the victims have been from different Fae clans. It seems… ” she grabbed her bra and slid the straps over her shoulders. “Well, it seems fairly random.”

Snapping the clasp of her bra together, Lauren shook out her hair and leaned forwards, her fingers grasping the shirt that had been carelessly discarded onto the floor only a few hours earlier. Eyeing it dubiously, she held it up in front of her and tried not to notice the creases that were marring the material. This was one of the things about staying with Bo - her clothes seemed to be in a constant state of disarray and although she gave them little to no thought as they were being tugged from her body, in the aftermath Lauren always regretted her lack of care when it came to putting them back on again.

Casting a rueful gaze back over her shoulder again, Lauren held up the shirt. “Look at this,” she sighed. “Honestly, Bo. It’s like I’m doing a constant walk of shame every time I leave this place.”

The Succubus propped her head up on one hand and a slow smile spread over her mouth. “Is this your way of asking if you can leave clothes here?” she questioned in a playful tone that brought a faint flush of crimson to the doctor’s cheeks.

“It’s my way of saying that I’d like you to be a little more gentle when you’re ripping them off me.”

Bo shrugged and lifted her eyebrows dismissively. “I don’t hear you complaining. Besides, it’s called passion, Lauren,” she intoned, her eyes sliding from the doctor’s naked shoulders down the slender lines of her back, hunger darkening her gaze.

“Hm,” Lauren’s mouth formed a moue of dissent, although she couldn’t help smiling faintly. “And yet, it seems more like carelessness,” she said lightly.

In an instant, Bo darted across the bed and knelt up behind Lauren, hands smoothing two achingly tempting pathways around the doctor’s torso, fingers trailing over Lauren’s stomach. Lips touched Lauren’s shoulder and warm breath caressed the skin there, bringing a shiver to the body Bo held in her arms.

“Oh yeah?” Bo murmured, her voice buzzing towards Lauren’s ears and battling with the sudden rush of blood that resounded there. “And what does this feel like?”

For a moment, Lauren was tempted to give in to the sensations surging through her. She had wondered if it would always be like this; if it would always feel so intense and visceral. Every time Bo touched her, Lauren was sure that this time would be the moment when her body didn’t respond so instantly; that this time, the insistent want that the Succubus inspired in her might have abated. It was only natural, wasn’t it? Most relationships went through the phase of unmitigated desire, but eventually dissipated into a rather more comfortable feeling that became the bedrock of staying together. She might not have experienced it herself - her previous love affairs had been short and invariably unfulfilling - but Lauren knew that this was the way relationships went sooner or later.

However, as she attempted to ignore the pooling, wanton lust that tingled between her thighs and gave her reason enough to close her eyes and lean back into Bo’s embrace, Lauren suspected that a relationship with a Succubus might never fade from passion to comfort. That in being with a Fae whose very existence was bound up in sexual need and the urgency of passion, she might never feel the abeyance of lust to something more palatable by human standards.

If anyone was to exercise restraint, then it was most likely going to be her and not Bo, who, even now, was tracing a warm, wet line of kisses up over Lauren’s shoulder towards the leaping pulse in her neck.

“Okay… ” Lauren said, voice thick and traitorously acquiescent as Bo’s fingers plucked at her bra strap. Blinking, she shook her head and plucked at Bo’s hands on her stomach. “Okay,” she said more firmly, removing the Succubus’ hold on her and standing up, stumbling a little and staring down at the half-naked body on the bed below her. “We can’t, Bo. I can’t. I have to go,” she said again, glaring half-heartedly at the Succubus.

Sighing heavily, Bo lifted her hands in disappointed acknowledgement and flopped back onto the bed once more, watching as Lauren continued dressing with rather more haste than her previous efforts.

“Should have just used my powers,” the Succubus grumbled sulkily and elicited another hard stare from the doctor as Lauren tugged on her pants.

“I’m going to take it as a good sign that you didn’t,” Lauren said, sliding her thick belt through the loops at her waistband and fastening the buckle firmly.

“Yeah,” Bo muttered. “Something to do with loving you even though you’re choosing The Ash over me.” They both knew that wasn’t remotely true, given recent events, and a begrudging smirk tugged at Bo’s mouth as she attempted to stare unforgivingly up at the doctor.

Lauren smiled and finished buttoning her shirt, moving to the bed and leaning in to drop a light kiss onto Bo’s lips. “And they say romance is dead,” she murmured.

Standing back and reaching for her coat and bag, Lauren pushed at her hair, catching sight of herself in the mirror across the room and grimacing slightly. She wasn’t what anyone would call ‘well turned out', but she would have to do. The Ash would know that she’d been with Bo anyway, so all attempts to hide that fact would be useless. She’d learned a long time ago that there was very little she could hide from the Fae Elder and had mostly stopped trying. Mostly. But there were still some secrets she kept close to her chest and desperately hoped that he wouldn’t uncover them.

“Listen,” she said, glancing at Bo and trying not to look too long at the languid body that she had explored and taken her fill of so many times that the memories of their encounters blurred into one torturously sensual image that played out in her head at the most inopportune moments. “While I’m gone, why don’t you go out and feed? It might help.”

“Help… what, exactly?” Bo sat up in surprise and fixed Lauren with an aggrieved stare.

“Bo,” Lauren began in a firm tone. “You need to feed regularly. We talked about this.”

“Actually, you talked about it.”

“Fine,” Lauren sighed, shoving at her hair. “But the fact still remains that you need to feed. Don’t think I haven’t noticed your stubborn refusal to feed from anyone else - ”

“I don’t want to!” Bo said, her tone lifting in insistence. Her eyes widened as she gazed at Lauren in what looked like offense, but the doctor merely raised her eyebrows and her mouth formed a stern line as she stared back at the Succubus.

“It’s not about want, Bo.” Lauren’s voice was soft, yet it hardened around the edges as she pulled herself up to her full height and assumed what Bo liked to call her ’doctorly' air. But the Succubus seemed utterly disheartened by the mere suggestion, as she always was. Despite the hunger that Lauren discerned in dark eyes and an insatiable need to take energy almost every time they were together, there was a vulnerability and an utterly human approach to the notion of feeding that Bo had adopted ever since they had become a couple. She simply refused to accept that being Fae required her to act outside of their relationship - that her feeding pattern needed to be established beyond the realms of what they both felt for one another and what they had entered into.

Lauren didn’t much like the notion of Bo taking energy from other people, but she had rationalized it to herself in order to keep Bo healthy and vital. Even if, she thought to herself, she secretly wished she could provide Bo with all the energy a Succubus could ever want. But lately she had begun to notice her own depleted energy, and the creeping lethargy that was starting to take its toll on her stamina. So her encouragement of Bo’s feeding requirements weren’t merely coming from a selfless place; Lauren was starting to wonder just how long she could remain Bo’s only source of fuel without her own disappearing entirely.

It felt like just another failing that she would carry with her, allowing it to bow her shoulders and bend her. But it was the sacrifice she’d told herself she must make in order to be with Bo. The sacrifice that she’d willingly entered into when she’d fallen in love with a Fae. Bo wouldn’t ever belong completely to the doctor; if Lauren knew anything about Succubae it was that they were unable by sheer fact of their nature to feed only from one point of supply. And especially not solely from a human. Lauren had always sworn to herself that love would never break her. But she’d never considered that being in a relationship with a Succubus might.

“So it’s not enough that you leave me in the middle of the night to go to The Ash after everything he did to you, but now you’re asking me to go and feed from someone… .someone else?” There was an incredulous tone to Bo’s voice that piqued Lauren’s consciousness, bringing her out of her reverie and burrowing a frown between her eyes. This conversation, again. These endless circles that spun around them like some sort of ridiculous carousel, never-ending and never beginning.

“Bo… ” Lauren began, but the Succubus lifted her hand and halted all reproach, all reason.

“You keep asking me to do this. When are you going to realize that you’re enough for me?” Bo leaned forwards, peering up into Lauren’s face as the doctor’s head dropped to her chest. “You’re enough for me, Lauren,” she added, in a somewhat gentler, pleading tone.

Gazing down at the Succubus, Lauren almost relented and accepted defeat. But she’d seen the ramifications of denying oneself the sole thing necessary for survival. She’d felt it herself, in her own human way. Being without love had left a gaping hole in her sensibilities. Having it now allowed her the luxury of looking back at her life and wondering how she ever managed to get from one day to the next without it. But love was intangible and she had lived without it for many years and survived, after a fashion. The energy Bo required was a very real absence. Torn between her desire to keep Bo all to herself and her duty of care for the Succubus, Lauren knew that her own pride must be a necessary casualty.

“Listen to me.” She sat down on the edge of the bed and took Bo’s hand in her own, the pad of her thumb moving over knuckles in what she hoped was a comforting gesture. “Emotionally, as your… uh… whatever, I might be inclined to agree with you.” She glanced down at their joined hands, embarrassed, as Bo quirked an eyebrow of curiosity. Neither of them had ever given a name to precisely what they were, or how they might be perceived. It simply hadn’t seemed important. And giving it a name now was something Lauren was reluctant to do. They might have achieved some inherent stability from an emotional perspective, but the doctor was hesitant to allow expectation to sit in her gut and give her delusions that she simply had no right to think about.

“As your doctor, however,” Lauren continued, lifting her gaze to meet Bo’s hooded eyes, “you need more than I can possibly give you. And I need you to understand that and take care of yourself as much as you can. Feeding doesn’t have to be an emotional experience.”

“Doesn’t it?” Bo’s voice was low and heavy. “So it’s not an emotional experience for you?”

Lauren smiled, a flush rising on her neck and creeping towards her face. “Bo,” she said firmly. “I don’t need it to survive like you do. Between you and I, everything is an emotional experience. But it doesn’t have to be that way with anyone else. You need to try and separate the two.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s just… “ Bo let out a sigh and her shoulders slumped in acquiescence. She knew that Lauren was right. She also knew that most Fae were able to consolidate their needs with the differences in the way they lived, the way they survived. But living as a human for so long and having no understanding of her abilities had left her with a palpable need to inject emotion into everything she did. Everything she took, too.

“It feels weird,” she finally said with a frown. Looking into Lauren’s serious brown eyes, she shrugged. “Now, I mean. It feels weird now. You know, because of you and me and… ”

“Even if it feels weird, you still need to do it.” Lauren squeezed Bo’s hand before letting it fall back onto the bedclothes, standing up and tugging her jacket on over her shoulders. “And what kind of a doctor would I be if I didn’t have my patient’s best interests at heart? At least think about it, okay?”

Moving towards the bedside table, Lauren picked up her phone and slid it inside her jacket pocket. Her fingers reached out again, lifting the silver chain and pendant from the table and holding it for a brief moment in her hand. It had become their routine - her routine - to remove the shackles that the necklace represented before sliding into bed with Bo. Freedom was fleeting, and Lauren intended to relish every second of it without the cold reminder against her neck that, outside these walls, she didn’t fully belong to Bo. Or even to herself. Replacing it around her neck, she shivered slightly as the cold metal lay against her breastbone, chilling the skin there. She didn’t fail to notice the narrowed gaze that Bo threw at her as she spied the glint of silver in the dimmed light of the room, either. But, Lauren sighed inwardly, that was something else they’d decided not to talk about any more, too.

“I’m not just your patient,” Bo remarked, as Lauren picked up her bag and turned to face the Succubus once more. “You’re not just my doctor.”

“I know,” Lauren replied simply, leaning down to place a rather chaste kiss on Bo’s cheek. “I'll call you when I’m done, okay?” The smile she proffered was returned, albeit reluctantly, and Lauren made her way to the bedroom door with a heavy gait. Leaving Bo was always the last thing she wanted to do. In fact, she’d often thought that, given a choice, she might be perfectly happy to spend the rest of her life in this room with this woman. That thought alone terrified her and she tightened her grip on her bag. It just wouldn’t do to pin all her hopes on this. Perhaps it wouldn’t do to pin any hopes on it.

The sound of her name as she reached the door made her turn to see Bo sitting up on the bed, frowning at her. The Succubus looked at her for a moment, her lips parting soundlessly before she shook her head slightly and shrugged again.

“You’re not just my whatever, either,” she said softly. “So I'll maybe think about it, okay? No promises, though.”

Lauren smiled and nodded. “No promises.” Her fingers moved instinctively to the chain around her neck and the pendant suddenly seemed much weightier than it ever had before. She fingered it absent-mindedly and smiled again, but it barely reached her eyes and she took a short, involuntary breath before turning and leaving the room.

Part 2

“Okay, what have we got?” Striding into the Fae labs, Lauren jerked her head questioningly towards one of her staff nurses and moved to take the clipboard from his outstretched hand.

The body lay underneath a sheet on a gurney that took center stage in the OR. The pristine white of the covering seemed only to accentuate the glaring light of the room and the metallic furnishings that spoke of sterility and detachment. Lauren had spent so many years here that sometimes she felt as though she was becoming a part of that atmosphere, that perhaps she had lost the warmth of her own humanity in the experiments and treatments that she carried out here. Certainly, her demeanor was nothing less than professional and as she turned her gaze onto her nurse, he shifted slightly underneath it and cleared his throat before speaking.

“One of ours, found dead at home. Nothing was taken so we’re ruling out an intruder,” he began as Lauren cast a cursory eye over the details on the clipboard. “He didn’t turn up for work then a neighbor got curious and checked in on him.” A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth and he shrugged a little. “Humans, right? Nosy creatures.”

It wasn’t until a sharp gaze turned itself upon him that he realized what he’d just said and an expression of abject apology crossed his features.

“I’m sorry, Dr Lewis,” he stammered. “I didn’t… I meant no disrespect – “

“This all seems to be in order,” Lauren responded in a clipped tone, ignoring the sharp pang of offense that burned momentarily in the base of her throat. Over the years, she’d become accustomed to Fae attitudes towards humans. They might live side by side, but the Fae possessed an arrogance that manifested itself in their attitude towards her kind. She might have their respect as a medical practitioner; she might even have their trust from patient to doctor, but she wasn’t one of them. She never would be. Sometimes, it was all too easy to forget that and whenever she was reminded of her own identity it always hurt a little more than perhaps it should have done.

Waving a dismissive hand at the nurse, she couldn’t help seeing the gratified look on his face as he scuttled away, lest staying might incur more thoughtless insults. His apology was sincere, but his beliefs about humans were rooted in centuries of separation and they were, Lauren acknowledged, as resolute as the laws that dictated them. Fae children were taught to be wary of humans, to avoid becoming entrenched in a world that seemed unsophisticated and facile in comparison to the complexities of Fae existence. While Lauren could wholly understand why humans were reduced to the providers of food and sustenance, there was still a part of her that experienced concern at the ever-growing abyss between comprehension and degradation. As if clinging to the past only ensured that the future would be increasingly atavistic and sectarian. But, she mused briefly, if the Fae themselves couldn’t live together peaceably, then what hope did humans have of ever understanding and existing with them?

Turning her attention to the task at hand, Lauren moved around to one side of the gurney, lifting the edge of the sheet to reveal the face of the victim underneath it. She frowned; the man lying beneath her was unassuming. His face, in repose, looked almost peaceful. His muscles had relaxed enough to take away any signs of strain or alarm at his untimely demise and even the wrinkles around his eyes and mouth had begun to fade. Pursing her lips, Lauren peered further underneath the sheet and saw nothing of any note on the pale skin peppered with dark hairs on his chest and upper body.

The body bore no obvious signs of fatal wounds. In fact, if she didn’t know any better, she might have suspected he had simply died in his sleep. But he was too young to have expired without warning, and, glancing back at the clipboard, Lauren saw that his medical history contained no causes for concern.

In fact, she sighed with a frown, the report contained nothing of any note at all. The initial assessment her staff had carried out was routine and gave no indication as to how this Fae had died. That alone was worry enough, not to mention that this Fae was the fourth in as many weeks to have died from what most doctors might have called ‘natural causes’.

But Lauren knew that, when it came to the Fae, there was no such thing. If their world was complex, then their physiology was even more so. Fae lived much longer than humans and their constitution supported that. Besides, she’d made it her business to keep track of unusual deaths when she’d first started working for The Ash. It was only when she’d realized that most Fae deaths were unusual by human comparisons that she’d adjusted her way of thinking and now had a vast database of diseases and notes on how this species lived. And how they died.

Squinting down at the clipboard again, she bit at her lower lip as she read the notes that her staff had made. This was – or had been – to all intents and purposes, a healthy Fae. Shay Nicholls had last been examined 12 months ago and had been in fine health.

“So what did you die of?” she murmured to herself, dropping the sheet and sighing loudly.

“We were kind of hoping you’d figure that out.” A voice at her shoulder made her start and she looked up to see Dyson standing at the head of the gurney. He looked tired, and scratched absent-mindedly at his beard, rubbing a hand over his face as she blinked at him.

“Figure what out?” Lauren asked incredulously. “He’s got no marks on his body, no sign of struggle. There isn’t even any bruising to suggest that he was killed by someone else - anything else, in fact.” Waving the clipboard at the detective, she shook her head. “It’s all right here on the report. Nothing that tells us how this happened.”

“Just like the others, right, Doc?” Dyson flicked back the sheet and gazed down at the dead Fae’s face for a moment, impassive in his inspection. Covering up the corpse, he folded his arms over his broad chest and let out a grumbling sigh. “This is the fourth one this month. I don’t think this guy’s death is a coincidence - not when it’s the same MO as the others. Something is killing Light Fae. Or someone,” he intoned with a grave expression.

Lauren shook her head, hooking the clipboard over the head of the gurney and resting back on her heels as she surveyed the corpse with confused interest. “Hopefully I'll know more when I’ve done an autopsy,” she suggested with a faint shake of her head. “But I have to warn you, Dyson, I’m at something of a loss as to how these Fae are dying. I can run his name through our databases and see if he has any connection to the others but - ”

“Already did that,” Dyson interrupted with a slight incline of his head.

“And?”

“Nothing,” he glowered, although his irritation wasn’t directed at Lauren, but more at the dead body below them. “This guy lived in the community, worked a regular job and was spectacularly normal.”

Lauren let out a small noise of dubious displeasure and eyed Dyson carefully. “I’ve learned that when it comes to the Fae, normal isn’t a word that belongs in my vocabulary,” she said in a low tone.

“Normal or not,” Dyson answered, following her over to her desk where she slumped into a chair in front of her computer, “this guy had no links to the High Council or anyone even remotely connected to it. To all intents and purposes, he was just like the others, going about his daily business and then he just died. Or got taken out by an unknown assailant.”

“But it doesn’t make any sense!” Lauren threw up her hands before tapping on the keyboard and bringing up information on the previous three victims. “And it’s going to make even less if the autopsy gives me the same results as the others. There was nothing… nothing unusual about their deaths. I ran almost every test I know and it seemed that they just… died.” She glanced up at him and shrugged helplessly.

Dyson couldn’t resist a wry smile at her disconsolate expression and lifted his eyebrows. “And here’s me thinking you’re some kind of medical genius. Don’t worry, I won’t tell The Ash. Your secret’s safe with me.”

Glaring at him, Lauren shook her head. “You know as well as I do that I have no secrets from The Ash,” she said tersely. “Besides, aren’t you supposed to be a detective? What are the police doing about this? Ignoring it as usual?”

It was a cheap shot, and they both knew it. But Dyson gave her a lazy grin of acknowledgement and rubbed at his face again as she returned her gaze to the computer screen. These cases were confounding, if he was going to admit it. Which, currently, he wasn’t. There was a perfectly reasonable answer to the recent killings and all he had to do was to find it. He knew that Lauren wanted the same thing, too, which was why their usually prickly relationship had taken something of a back seat while they were forced to work together. For all his personal misgivings about Lauren, she really was some kind of genius and the Light couldn’t do without her. Her return to work for them had sent ripples of relief through the community, not in the least to his own sense of wellbeing. He’d never tell her, of course, but Dyson knew that when it came to treating the Fae, Lauren was the only doctor in whose hands he would place his own life.

Sometimes he wondered if she didn’t know that and kept him at bay as some sort of retribution for the simple fact that they clashed far too much over things to establish anything approaching friendship. Or even peaceable enmity.

Leaning back in her chair, Lauren sighed in frustration and pursed her lips irritably. Her life had been measured in careful parts - problem, research, solution. Everything she did, she approached in the same way. And she’d always found solutions to anything The Ash had presented. To anything that her life had presented. It was how she’d ended up here in the first place. It was how she intended to continue working here, too. She’d managed to convince herself that there was nothing in her life that couldn’t be solved by the careful application of science. That sort of determined attitude had always worked well until her emotions had got in the way. Until she had been caught between duty and the unresolved workings of her heart.

Now it seemed that her life wasn’t measured at all, and was tumbling towards a lack of control that threatened to throw everything she’d worked for into chaos. It wasn’t just what had happened with The Ash; it wasn’t the trials she’d endured or the fact that she’d almost died; it wasn’t even discovering something new and terrifying with Bo. It was that she had lost the ability to compartmentalize everything that had meant something to her. Failing at her work was frustrating. Failing at keeping her life in order was almost overwhelming.

As she dropped her head onto her chest, Lauren knew that in order to do her job to the best of her ability, she would need to spend long hours at the lab. And in order to do that, she’d need to spend less time with Bo. Less time figuring out their relationship with each other; less time focusing on the very thing that took her away from work and made her feel like the human self she’d left behind a long time ago.

“Doc?” Dyson bent a little, peering into her face and raising his eyebrows questioningly. “You okay?”

She blinked up at him and was surprised to see sincerity beckoning in his eyes. “I… uh… ” she began, hesitant to trust what she was seeing there. Dyson had never been top of her list when it came to confidantes; in fact, he didn’t really make the list at all. But ever since he and Trick had defied The Ash on her behalf, she’d wondered at his choices and motivations. Wondered if there wasn’t something inherently honorable about the man she’d almost completely dismissed.

“It’s nothing,” she frowned, with a wave of her hand. Compartmentalization. Why was it becoming so much more difficult to insinuate into her life?

“What is it, trouble in Succubus paradise?” He smirked and leaned back, tightening his arms around his body, lips forming a hard line of acceptance.

Lauren’s head jerked back on her neck and her eyes narrowed as the detective looked rather too smug for her liking and she bristled slightly. Just when she began to second-guess her opinion of him, he’d go and say something that would reassert her view that he was basically an irritating ass.

“And how did you jump to that conclusion?” she asked, instantly regretting it as Dyson opened his mouth and took a long, thoughtful breath.

“She’s the only Fae I know who can make even you unravel,” he told her with a faint grin. “She puts you off your game, Doc. You’ve been looking awful tired lately. I know how… “ He paused momentarily, searching for the right word. “Draining Bo can be,” he finally said.

Lauren needed no reminders of Bo’s appetites, nor did she appreciate the fact that Dyson had intimate knowledge of the effects of them. She’d told herself that Dyson wasn’t a threat any more – Bo had told her much the same, too. But it irritated her in ways she couldn’t fully comprehend that the detective had an understanding of Bo’s true nature and had experienced the heady exchanges made in the throes of passion. She knew that he mentioned it now to bait her and clenched her teeth together, determined not to let it. But from the smirk that crossed Dyson’s lips and the complacent sound of confirmation that escaped his mouth, she knew that it already had.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Lauren replied curtly, staring rather too intently at the computer screen in front of her.

“Yeah, you do.” Dyson leaned in and let out a slow chuckle that twisted Lauren’s mouth into a crooked line of irritation. “Besides,” he continued, “I can smell her all over you.”

“Which is one of your less attractive abilities, Dyson,” Lauren growled, a faint look of disgust crossing her features. “And since when did my personal life have anything to do with you?”

Dyson shrugged in that nonchalant way that aggravated Lauren to no end. Tilting his head onto one side, he blinked as though pondering the question carefully before replying. “These deaths,” he said, “have everything to do with me. You figuring out how they happened has a lot to do with me too, I’d say. You know, if you’re not up to it, maybe The Ash should have someone else work on them.”

He knew from the fire that leapt in Lauren’s eyes that he’d said enough - too much, perhaps. Her jaw hardened as she gazed at him and he felt apology rise in his throat, even if it failed to reach his voice. Bo had chosen Lauren, and he’d learned to accept that. But it didn’t mean he liked it, nor did it mean that he was going to slink away with his proverbial tail between his legs. He knew how special Bo was; forcing himself to give up on anything between them had been one of the hardest lessons he’d learned. And he didn’t so much resent Lauren as envy her, really. So as she glared at him right now, he was a little sorry for his own inability to accept failure. But only a little. And certainly not enough to rectify his barely-veiled insult.

Struggling to regain control of herself, Lauren forced a polite and inherently icy smile onto her lips. “Until you have something useful to tell me, Dyson,” she said in a clipped tone, “I have work to do. Why don’t you use those abilities for something other than wasting my time and do the job The Ash requires of you?”

“Just trying to help,” Dyson murmured, shrugging again.

“No you’re not,” Lauren told him. “You’re meddling in things that don’t concern you. Now if that’s all, then perhaps you should leave and let me do my job.”

“Fair enough.” The detective shook his head slowly and took a step backwards before he stopped, eyeing Lauren with something akin to suspicion. “Bo’s what you might call… demanding,” he ventured in a low tone. “I’d hate for your work here to suffer because of that. Or for you to suffer because of that, too, Doc.”

Again, there was a note of sincerity to his tone that both appalled and troubled Lauren. She’d tidied Dyson away with everything else in her life, and now he was swinging wildly between what seemed like concern and jealousy. It had always been easy for her to discern which was which, but lately she’d found that she was flailing in her efforts to know precisely what to trust. Who to trust. As she stared up at the detective, Lauren knew that her previously impenetrable walls were crumbling, leaving her open to attack from the most vicious opponents.

She just wasn’t sure which camp Dyson fell into: friend, or foe. A part of her believed it would never be the former, but she wasn’t altogether certain that he was completely the latter.

“Thank you for your concern. It’s very touching,” she told him, in a voice dripping with sarcasm and was oddly relieved to see his features harden, a muscle ticking in his cheek. “But I’m fine. And don’t assume to tell me about Bo’s abilities. I’m pretty sure I know far more about them than you do.”

She hated the way her voice sounded – so trite and patronizing. She hated how he was able to get under her skin and knew it was only because of Bo that he was able to do so. But more than that, she hated how he was right. She was becoming increasingly tired, no matter what she told herself about her ability to endure the sapping of her energies. Adding her emotional involvement with Bo into the mix only served to accentuate all the vulnerabilities and frailties that being human presented.

But she stared up at the detective with a resolute gaze, meeting his eyes and daring him to be the first to look away. When it came to Bo, she simply refused to concede to the mere possibility of defeat. Not to the pressures of her humanity, and absolutely not to someone like Dyson.

Shrugging again wordlessly, Dyson shook his head and lifted his eyebrows a little. He was, if he were to admit it, surprised that Lauren had lasted this long. Having had his own energy depleted by Bo, it had taken his Fae constitution quite some time to recover. He couldn’t possibly imagine how Lauren was coping with it. But, as he viewed the shadows under her eyes and the way she bristled so quickly to his enquiries, he began to wonder if she wasn’t really coping with it at all.

“I’m in the process of carrying out some research on the blood work from the other victims,” Lauren said, returning to the computer and dismissing not only Dyson’s concerns, but also her own. “It might take some time, but I’m hoping we’ll find some sort of connection between them. I’ll add Shay Nicholls to the list.”

“So you do think these are murders then?” Dyson asked, his own suspicions needing confirmation from science, and not merely his own gut feeling.

“I don’t believe in coincidences, Dyson,” Lauren answered shortly. “And neither should you.” She glanced up at him and nodded. “You might want to remember that when you’re covering up Fae activity for the police.”

He let out a short laugh and nodded. “Sure, okay,” he rumbled, holding up his hands with a vague smile. The best possible defense was always an active offense, and Lauren was no exception to that rule. Even if she was doing it out of a sense of self-preservation, he was almost grateful that he had her to keep him on his toes. It would be far too easy to dismiss any and all Fae machinations in light of his work with the cops. Humans never really thought beyond their ignorant parameters, anyway, and over the years he’d often wondered if they were inherently stupid, or just too caught up in their own existence to even imagine the presence of anything outside of it.

“You know where to find me,” he said, turning on his heel as Lauren nodded silently in response. Then he paused, swinging back to look at her and taking a short breath. “It’s not easy, Doc. Being with a Succubus, I mean,” he qualified. “You might wanna think about that.”

The brown gaze that turned upon him was stoic, almost unreadable. But he saw a flicker of recognition flare briefly in pools of russet before Lauren turned away and hid any truths under hooded lids. Knowing that he wasn’t going to pierce her armor, Dyson shrugged again and loped towards the door. Another time, maybe. Another sleepless night when the pressures of work sat even heavier on her shoulders than they did right now.

Taking a breath, Lauren scrubbed at her eyes with a bunched fist and resisted the urge to yawn. She was tired. Over-tired. And Dyson’s line of questioning hadn’t done anything but make her more aware of the reasons why – reasons that weren’t simply linked to a lack of sleep. But she was unable to ponder them right now, and instead pushed them to the back of her mind along with all the other doubts that turned and returned to haunt her in her most vulnerable moments.

No; she couldn’t think about Bo right now. She wouldn’t think about Bo right now.

“I’m fine,” she said again in a hushed tone, reaching for the computer keyboard.

But she knew that she wasn’t. And, for someone who craved knowledge as much as she did, the realization of that was something that made her ache for ignorance.

Part 3

Lauren finished reading the salient points of her report aloud and then placed it on The Ash’s desk like some sort of paltry sacrificial offering, giving it rather more care and attention than it truly merited. Stepping backwards, she stood up straight and clasped her hands together in front of her, assuming a suitably reverent pose. Head slightly bowed, she waited for judgment much as a supplicant awaits divine intervention. But it had always been this way – displaying reverence to The Ash was a stance that the Light Fae were trained to adopt from birth. His importance to them, not just as a leader and political figurehead, but also as a symbol of what made them a community had become as much a part of her own socialization as it had all the other Light Fae who were called to his presence.

She may not actually be Fae, but Lauren was determined to show that her humanity wasn’t going to prevent her from living like one. Even if, as she’d come to learn through harder lessons than she’d anticipated, she would never truly be accepted as one of them.

The Ash leaned back in his chair, casting no more than a cursory glance over the report and steepled his fingers, eyeing Lauren with a stentorian gaze. His features showed no glimmer of curiosity, but it was that very emotion that had piqued his interest and compelled him to ask Lauren to visit his office. Usually, he waited for the labs to forward her autopsy reports and findings, but today he had wanted to see her in person.

Since she had returned to his care, he had noticed changes in her. Tiny changes, but ones that spoke volumes, nonetheless. She seemed distracted, her gaze flickering across the heavy rug beneath her feet, an apprehensive quirk to the corner of her mouth, fingers twisting agitatedly against one another. He was accustomed to her nervousness when she was around him - always so eager to please. But of late she had seemed as though her mind was elsewhere.

It didn’t take The Ash’s considerable Fae abilities to posit a credible suggestion of exactly where that might be.

“Are you enjoying your work once more?” he asked, the sound of his voice bringing a pair of brown eyes to rest fleetingly on his face. He lifted his eyebrows and nodded at the doctor. “Your work was always so important to you.”

“It’s important to you, which makes it important to me,” Lauren answered.

The Ash smiled emotionlessly. The constant diplomat; that was his Lauren. He had discovered her adept political nature some years ago and had nurtured it, exposing her to far many more machinations of The Fae than was advisable for any human. But Lauren had navigated them with a subtle aplomb and he’d found that he relied on her far more than he cared to admit. For all the things she might owe him - all the things that he had given her - he was the one who stood to gain from keeping her close. Because how could she ever willingly leave, knowing the things that she did and having feasted on the rich, succulent beauty of the life he had given her?

Were he to banish her from his community, then the knowledge she took with her could prove harmful should it ever come to light in the human world. But it was more than that. Should he exclude her, then he would also be tearing her identity apart – the identity she had created for herself under his protection and guidance. She might be less than Fae, but to expel her from this world would remove the part of her that was more than human. Lauren had navigated the delicate balance between identities with much more success than The Ash had anticipated.

Although, he mused, he wasn’t so sure that Lauren was managing much to any degree of success lately. And that alone gave him cause for concern.

True, his feelings about her had governed his choices when he had felt the bitter sting of betrayal. And revenge, like the human saying went, was best served cold. But The Ash had since regretted his decision to punish Lauren in the way that he had. He’d almost lost her. As an ally, as a serf, as someone who gave him a very human perspective on a life that he had lived for centuries.

If he was the sort of being who believed in affection, then he might have admitted he had some little attachment to his ward. But affection, like indulgence, had withered on the vine long ago and rotted, eventually becoming the scattered dust of a distant memory. He had no room in his life for affection; not any more. And as his eyes roamed over her slender figure, his mouth formed a grim line of acceptance as he pushed aside sentiment and indulged in the cold separation of duty and honor; in the calling to which he had dedicated his entire life. If the Fae had high expectations of his role as The Ash, then he had even greater ones of the subjects who served under him.

“You sound as though you aren’t entirely content,” he stated.

Lauren’s eyes widened in alarm and she lifted her head, gazing at him with an almost fearful expression. Holding out her hands in supplication, she shook her head fiercely. “Of course not!” she breathed. “I love my work here.”

The Ash nodded, dropping his hands to his lap and picking at an invisible piece of lint on his pristine and impeccably laundered clothing. “But it’s not all you love, is it?”

Lauren flushed a little and bowed her head again, looking down at the rug once more. He couldn’t help smiling faintly. She was still so young in comparison to himself. Still so innocent, in a way; unaware that secrets, like lies, were pointless in this room with him. He demanded honesty from his subjects, and Lauren had never lied to him before. Not until the Succubus had appeared. Since then, the simplicity of his relationship with his doctor had been thrown into confusion and splintered by the truths she chose to tell and those she kept from him.

But he would find them out, sooner or later. He always did.

Without waiting for her to answer, The Ash nodded to himself and rose from the chair, moving around the desk to stand near Lauren. Humans. Always so quick to love without considering the consequences. Always so eager to throw themselves upon their emotions and hope that their hearts could bear the strain. He despised them for it; for being so easily manipulated by the insubstantial. Lauren had never fallen prey to that particular vagary; she had always separated herself from the human world and, in doing so, the unnecessary emotional torments that came with it. Her eagerness to do so had troubled him at first, but he had come to know that for Lauren, an ingrained sense of nobility typified the person she was. And she had made a pledge to honor her agreement with him – she’d made good on that pledge year upon year and The Ash discovered that for all his mistrust of humans, Lauren wasn’t like the rest of them at all.

But he found that he didn’t fully recognize the person standing in front of him anymore. Lauren’s defiance had come without the roar of open betrayal that he’d observed from some within the Light – and almost all of those outside it - but it had tainted his view of her nonetheless. He was uncommonly irritated by it and his eyes were steely as he stepped close to her, nostrils flaring in light of the subtle changes that he discerned.

“The Succubus,” he began, seeing Lauren’s gaze flit towards him, apprehension darkening her eyes. “I find myself somewhat concerned about your… relationship.”

“Concerned?”

“Yes.” He nodded and paused before continuing, noticing how Lauren stiffened imperceptibly under his watchful eyes. “She’s a distraction. A time consuming distraction. Your feelings for her cause you to make choices that I’m not sure are conducive to fulfilling your obligations here. Am I correct?”

Now Lauren met his gaze with a determination that surprised him. A muscle ticked high up on her cheek for a few tense seconds and he caught the bunching of her hands into fists for a brief moment before she drew in a breath and steadied herself.

“She’s not a distraction,” Lauren lied, so easily that she wondered at how quickly deceit could color her words. “My work isn’t suffering. In fact, I’m in the process of finalizing some research that I think you’ll – “

“I’m certain that your work will be of its usual high quality.” The Ash dismissed her platitude with a wave of his hand and Lauren shifted, confusion etching its way over the planes of her face. “She’s an emotional distraction. One that has put your loyalties in question.” He didn’t need to elucidate further to know that Lauren understood his meaning; she had, after all, sacrificed all of her research with the Light in order to help Bo. She had put love before duty; passion before honor. And the expression of shame that fled through Lauren’s eyes told The Ash that regret was as strange and new a bedfellow for his doctor as the Succubus herself.

“You care for her, don’t you?”

Lauren looked away, across the quiet room towards the window where sunlight was rippling waves of yellow against the shades, drawn to one side to allow the outside world some scant purchase in the darkened silence of The Ash’s study. It would be easy to deny how she felt; easy to feign some attempts to draw The Ash into a place where she didn’t feel anything for Bo other than the thrill of scientific discovery. And the denial sat on her lips, traitorously parting them in an effort to retain the dignity that she so fervently sought in his eyes. She had initially convinced him that her interest in Bo was of great benefit to Light – that the opportunity to study a Succubus up close might even serve the greater good that she believed The Ash embodied.

But under his watchful gaze, Lauren wasn’t so sure that he hadn’t suspected the significance of her relationship with Bo all along; that he had seen her falling and had hoped that she might catch herself. Hoped that she might put duty before her own desires and distance herself from the messy emotional entanglements that Bo represented.

She had spent so long denying herself anything and everything meaningful that she knew this was not a time in which she could willingly – or convincingly – do so. The consequences far outweighed the dangers. It simply wouldn’t do to tell more lies when her heart was blatantly shining with the truth that must necessarily be uncovered. And The Ash knew that. His questions required no answers because he, who had observed humans for hundreds of years, could see how she felt. It was in his nature to eke out all the secrets she so desperately tried to conceal and have possession of them long before her own admissions were brought to light.

The years of servitude Lauren had offered up to The Ash weren’t meaningless; she treasured them as one does when they are able to ensconce themselves in a valid vocation. She reveled in the knowledge that she was privileged to be a part of the Fae world – a world that was closed to most humans. But it was the years ahead, not behind, that stilled her tongue and forced all repudiation from her mind. The years ahead and the promise they might hold for her. She, who had lived such a lonely life until now, was finally realizing that solitude didn’t have to define her. And hope, like the sunlight flickering through the window, was bright and warm in her chest as she turned to The Ash with a resolute expression on her face.

“I love her,” she said quietly, gasping over the final syllable as though the confession had been wrenched from her mouth with brute force.

The Ash nodded, a tiny smile curving the corner of his mouth as he blinked slowly and gazed at her for a moment. He seemed less disappointed than saddened by her assertion, and lifted his chin to stare at her imperiously as a veil fell over his expression and he shook his head in paternal reprove.

“Lauren,” he said in a low, rumbling tone. “You know that any relationship between a human and a Fae is strictly forbidden by our laws. Not to mention that this particular Fae belongs to no clan, has no lineage and refuses to align herself with either Light or Dark. And yet you choose to make a mockery of our laws by associating with her. Do you expect me to ignore that?”

“Humans don’t know anything about the Fae. I do. Bo needs that in her life.”

“And you seem to think that this gives you special dispensation to flout traditions that have existed for longer than your kind has walked this earth. I see.” The Ash’s tone was ice-cold as he clasped his hands behind his back, assuming the pose of a stern parent whose child has transgressed for a final, intolerable time.

“I’m not… it’s not like that!” Lauren insisted, holding out her hands in a futile plea. A cold chill of fear began to inch down her spine and she clenched her teeth against it. She had known that it would always come down to this, to a loyalty she had spent years creating that was now shattered at its very core. And she’d always been strong; always proven herself time and again only to be brought to her knees by the most commonplace of human emotions. Under the dark gaze of the only parent she’d known for so long, being strong was proving an almost insurmountable task.

“I respect your laws,” she said, her voice trembling enough to cast a shadow of indulgence into The Ash’s eyes. “I live by them more than I ever did by human ones. And I do all I can… everything I can to encourage others to uphold them too.”

“But?” The Ash leaned forwards, hearing the rebuttal in her voice.

“But… ” Lauren sighed, her shoulders slumping as she tried to explain the untenable position she found herself in. “Please don’t ask me to choose,” she begged. “Please don’t force me to turn my back on her. She needs me. She needs the Light.”

The Ash let out a laugh, rich and throaty, throwing his head back and leaving Lauren utterly confounded by his reaction. She’d expected anger; expected something hard and overbearing. It was his way – a way cultivated through centuries of leadership and order. He took a firm line with dissenters and she knew from experience that when The Ash perceived a betrayal, then nothing would stand in his way until it was avenged. But she couldn’t possibly have predicted this. He seemed genuinely amused by her pleas, as though she’d suggested something ludicrous instead of the desperately sincere tone that colored her words.

“My dear child,” The Ash said, shaking his head as his mirth began to fade. “You think you can lead this Succubus to the Light? After all she’s done to ridicule us and go against all our laws?”

“I think she would be a valuable asset to the Light, yes.” Lauren nodded firmly. “And so do you, otherwise you wouldn’t have let her stay alive so long.”

“Mm.” The Ash stroked at his chin and nodded appreciatively. Perhaps he had underestimated his doctor. And not for the first time. Her tenacity in surviving the netherworlds had oddly pleased him. But her persistence in pursuing the Succubus dismayed him. And yet it seemed that she was intent on doing just that, no matter what he might threaten her with.

“And how do I justify your relationship to the High Council?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. “How do I encourage them to see the two of you as anything but heresy?”

Lauren clasped her hands together again, pressing her fingertips into the backs of her palms and forcing herself to have enough strength to speak, enough courage to say what she needed to without backing down like she had done so many times before when faced with the narrow pathways The Ash expected her to walk. She’d never before experienced such a strong desire to have him respect her – who she was, who she might be should he allow her.

“Because I’m more Fae than she is. And she’s more human than I am. At least, for now, anyway.”

“I agree that you have a deeper understanding of our ways than she has,” The Ash intoned. “So you intend to bring her into the Light and hope that we will ignore the boundaries you cross so easily?”

“It’s not easy,” Lauren replied quickly, almost without thinking. She shook her head and let out a tiny sigh. “It hasn’t been easy. And if you need to punish me again, then so be it. But I can’t help her in the way she needs me to without being with her. And she can’t help you unless she learns how. She’s incredibly powerful and I would hate for those abilities to become someone else’s advantage.”

Her inference was clear, and The Ash once again viewed her with something akin to surprise. He’d always seen humans as dispensable. They lived such short, violent lives that he had become accustomed to replacing them in his own as a matter of course.

But Lauren was different.

He wasn’t sure whether he found that difference admirable or foolish. Her desire to love and be loved, coupled with her sense of belonging to his own clan was quite at odds with her genetic heritage. She was right; she was more Fae than human. He wondered at the back of his mind if that had been his own doing or whether Lauren was simply unusual enough to have accepted a life most humans knew nothing about. Either way, allowing the Dark to claim Bo would be a grave error on his behalf, especially if he possessed the wherewithal to prevent it. And, despite a reluctance to allow his human to go against Fae law, he was able to comprehend the benefits of doing so.

At least, for the time being.

“I will show some lenience,” he said finally, seeing relief flood Lauren’s features and lighten the tentative gaze she turned upon him. “But you know that this cannot be - that for a Fae to have a relationship with a human is forbidden.”

He watched as Lauren bowed her head again, biting at her lower lip as disappointment and supplication curved her shoulders.

“Lauren,” he said in a gentler tone, moving forwards and almost reaching out to her before he remembered who he was, where they were, what was at stake. “You have proven yourself to me, many times. I’m thankful for that. But the law is the law. Were I to show ignorance of that then I would betray the legacy of every Ash before me and that is something I’m not willing to do in these troubled times. Bring the Succubus into the Light and I will allow this relationship to continue. For now. Feelings fade, child. But Fae law never has, not through the centuries of its existence. You would do well to remember that.”

Lifting her head, Lauren looked into his eyes and thought, for a second, that she saw sympathy there. But, as the scudding clouds outside covered up the sun and the daylight flickered into something darker, he straightened up and became stoic once more. Nodding briefly, she let out a long breath and watched as he moved back behind his desk once more, sinking into his chair and picking up her report, his dismissal indicated only from the attention that he now turned to the paper in front of him.

Part 4

There was a light on in her living room as Lauren dropped her keys onto the stout table beside the front door and let her jacket slide from her shoulders. Until she had returned home, she hadn’t realized how tired she was, or how taxing her long day had been. It was as though the simple act of returning to the emotional safety of her house had stopped keeping her burdens at bay and as she trudged into the house, she felt exhausted - both physically and emotionally. The Ash hadn’t told her to stop seeing Bo, but he had put a time limit on their relationship. Lauren was certain that the longer she and Bo continued to be together, the shorter that time limit might become.

And yet, she thought to herself, even in the face of his disapproval, she might have given up everything she’d worked for to lie in Bo’s arms once more.

She’d never been much of a risk taker before Bo. Never played by her own rules or incurred remonstration from the Light. In fact, she had justified herself as doggedly worthy time after time to the detriment of her own choices and feelings. But choice was something she’d never really had before; not since working for The Ash, anyway. And risks were for those who walked on a knife edge and didn’t much care if they got sliced open by it. She had always cared too much even consider doing such a reckless thing; cared about her reputation, the work she carried out, her fealty to The Ash and the pledges she intended to honor.

While she still felt the duty of dedication to her work and to The Ash himself, she knew that she was approaching that knife edge with an inevitable haste. Loving someone… loving Bo as much as she did had thrown her life into disarray and allowed the sharp edges of chaos to prick at her sense of self with dangerous intent. Bo made her believe that she might indulge in the privilege of choice; that the risk of being cut open might even be worth it. But they had both already suffered consequences at the hand of The Ash and Lauren couldn’t help wondering if the obstacles in their way might open up wounds in their relationship that not even she could suture closed. So as she entered the living room and saw Bo sprawled across the couch reading a book, Lauren’s smile of greeting was half-hearted, scarred by the traces of her conversation with The Ash.

Caution, she reminded herself. Yes; caution would be even more necessary from now on. Until she knew that she and Bo were safe, at least.

“Sorry I didn’t call,” Lauren said, moving towards the Succubus with an apologetic air. “I had to carry out an autopsy and then The Ash demanded my presence. I think he’s rattled by these deaths and… well,” she shrugged, “it looks like I’m the one who has to give him some answers.”

Bo lifted her head from the couch and put down the book she’d been holding up in front of her. Casting it onto the low coffee table nearby, she gazed across the room at Lauren. “So no pressure then?” she remarked with a sardonic smirk.

Rolling her eyes, Lauren shook her head and plucked at her shirt with a self-conscious breath of laughter. “None whatsoever,” she replied wryly. “How was your day?”

Rising from the couch, Bo stretched her arms above her head and let out a long sigh. “Boring,” she said finally. “Kenzi and I worked on a case that’s going nowhere fast, then went for a few drinks at Trick’s place.” Approaching the doctor, she reached out and slid a hand down Lauren’s arm, squeezing the other woman’s hand and peering into the weary face in front of her.

“You look tired,” she said softly, receiving a faint smile for her pains. “Did you eat?”

Lauren shrugged carelessly and bent her head, hair whispering over her shoulders to fall forwards and half-cover her face. “I’m not really hungry,” she murmured. Then, looking up at Bo, she smiled again. “I think I’m just going to have a shower and look over my files again. You didn’t have to wait for me, you know.”

“I know,” Bo grinned, following Lauren into the bedroom where the doctor began unbuttoning her shirt, sliding it from her shoulders with palpable relief, attempting to shed the day along with her clothing. Throwing herself onto the bed, Bo’s eyes lingered over Lauren’s increasingly revealed form and a smile of contentment curved her lips.

“But I figured you’d have to come home sometime and I’m not entirely sure I’d be welcome at the Fae labs these days.” She tilted her head onto one side and lifted her eyebrows. Understatement of the year. Ever since she’d rescued Lauren, Bo had known that should she step foot into the labs, then The Ash would surely hear about it. She neither trusted nor relied upon him to be forgiving when it came to her, even if he had accepted Lauren back into the fold, so to speak.

“Hm.” Lauren paused in her undressing and glanced at Bo, gaze narrowing. “So you are capable of showing restraint, then,” she said quietly in a teasing tone. A smile spread over her lips as she saw Bo’s eyebrow quirk upwards with vague offense and she demurred slightly, sliding her pants down over her hips and stepping out of them. “Thank you,” she added, nodding at the Succubus with genuine gratitude.

“Yeah, well, I don’t want The Ash pulling another stunt like he did the last time. I figured if I stayed away then he’d have no reason to make your life a misery.” Bo was suddenly serious, her eyes darkening to a deeper hue and glistening as Lauren turned away, folding her pants and carefully placing them on the chair near her wardrobe.

As she watched the deliberate actions of the doctor, Bo was suddenly struck by how important this part of their life seemed. She realized that she relished watching Lauren move around the room, removing her underwear and throwing it into the laundry basket that sat huge and squat in the corner. There was something innately domesticated about this, about the routine that they’d established quite naturally despite the erratic nature of their lives. It was almost as though they were just like any other couple, indulging in the banalities of a life that Bo had craved for so long that, now it was unfolding before her, it had become inherently crucial to every day she spent with Lauren.

It was a strange dichotomy that defined their relationship. The commonplace routines that other couples took for granted had been denied Bo and were now elevated to intrinsic importance in her mind. Because she and Lauren weren’t just like any other couple, they couldn’t be. Their lives were bound in the Fae and a world that Bo was still exploring with trepidation and uncertainty. Lauren might be instrumental in opening that world up to her, but she was also one of the very factors that kept the Succubus rooted in her humanity. Or, at least, the humanity that had characterized Bo’s life before her abilities developed.

Although Lauren was more at home in the stark, clinical atmosphere of her lab, extolling the virtues and discoveries of science, her humanity was found here, in her home. It was found in the possessions she gathered around her and the connections to a life that she’d chosen to leave behind. It lingered in the books on her shelves and the ornaments and paintings that were lined up on her mantelpiece. Lauren had once told Bo that it was important to have these things so that she never forgot where she was from - where she feared being sent back to should her work with the Fae end. Bo had admired a series of tiny sculptures that Lauren had told her were from an artist’s studio she’d discovered on a rare vacation in the mountains. The doctor had touched them, one by one, and explained their significance. They were rough hewn, but Lauren had said that their unfinished appearance had reminded her that they were all that way, somehow. They were all a work in progress.

And so is this relationship, Bo reminded herself with a tiny sigh. A work in progress whose outcome was hitherto unknown. Not completed with fire and glaze but uneven to the touch, almost delicate with the promise of what it might be and shaped in fragility by what it currently was. She’d almost lost Lauren once; that in itself was enough to prickle a sense of mortality into something that hovered in the back of her mind, lurking there to resonate with an uncommon fear. So she gave herself over to these unfamiliar moments and allowed herself to sink into them, feeling their warm comfort seep into her bones and offer some relief, even just for a little while.

“I won’t let him hurt you again,” she heard herself say, as Lauren drew the waistband of her robe firmly around her and moved to sit on the bed, proffering an indulgent smile to the Succubus. Bo lifted her chin in resolute determination and looked Lauren in the eye. “So if I have to show a little restraint,” she sighed almost regretfully, “then I guess I have to.”

Reaching out and putting her hand over Bo’s arm, Lauren closed her fingers with gentle strength and nodded in acquiescence of the unspoken vow that the Succubus was making. It was an odd feeling, especially in light of her conversation with The Ash and her acknowledgement of the taboo nature of their relationship. But in these quiet moments when Bo reminded her of what it was that they felt for one another, Lauren could almost believe in the optimism that fluttered around her brain and tugged at her chest.

“He won’t hurt me,” she told Bo, her voice steady and quite belying the uncertainty she felt about The Ash. “In fact,” Lauren drew a breath and blinked over it before continuing, “he and I talked about… about us today.” Her gaze dropped with an assumed shyness and she bit at her lower lip, almost amused by her own reluctance and inability to define the precise nature of their relationship. “About you and me, I mean,” she added with an apologetic shrug of her shoulders.

Bo’s mouth twisted into a grimace and she grunted. “Yeah? I bet that was a pretty one-sided conversation, right?”

A murmuring laugh escaped Lauren’s lips and she patted Bo’s arm before drawing her hand back. “I suppose. You know that this is frowned upon, don’t you?” She glanced at the Succubus and raised her eyebrows.

“This?” Bo echoed, frowning.

“A human having a relationship with a Fae,” Lauren explained, and saw Bo roll her eyes dismissively and let out a snort of disdainful laughter.

“So he read you the riot act? Well, that’s rich,” she muttered. Her chin jerked out in an accusatory gesture that was mirrored in the sudden leap of fire that consumed her gaze. On the bed, her hand clenched into a fist and she shook her head, appalled. “He tries to kill you and suddenly you’re the one who’s doing something wrong? Seriously, Lauren, that’s so fucked up I can’t even… “ She shook her head again, hair falling over her shoulders and glared across the room.

“Bo.” Lauren reached out again, putting her hand over the other woman’s and stroking her fingertips over the fist there as though she could assuage Bo’s ire with touch alone. “Fae law doesn’t approve of you and I. The Ash is honor-bound to protect and uphold those laws.”

As the Succubus opened her mouth to protest, Lauren shook her head. “I think I talked him round, though.” That was a white lie she was going to allow herself to tell Bo, despite her desires to perpetuate the uneasy honesty that existed between them. There were just some things that didn’t necessarily need to be shared - especially not as Bo had sworn loudly and fervently to avenge Lauren’s punishment should The Ash try anything like that again. Few things truly terrified Lauren, but Bo enacting revenge upon The Ash - or at least, trying to - was one of them. So she gave Bo what she felt the Succubus needed to hear and consolidated her lie with a smile that ghosted briefly over lips.

But Bo’s frown deepened, burrowing into her forehead and resting there for a long moment before she looked into Lauren’s eyes and shook her head. It was then that Lauren saw the glimmer of fear in Bo’s gaze; the only emotion that could go some way to convincing her that how they felt and what existed between them was real. In spite of the tension drifting down around them, Lauren’s heart rattled inside her chest and lurched up towards her throat, forming a lump there that prickled grateful tears at the backs of her eyes. Blinking them away, she dropped her head onto her chest and squeezed Bo’s hand.

“It’s going to be okay, Bo,” she said gently. She half-smiled at her own voice, how steady it seemed and how it belied the inner turmoil that wrenched at her heart and mind.

Bo slid her hand from Lauren’s grasp and reached up, putting a finger underneath the doctor’s chin and lifting Lauren’s head so that their eyes met.

“Is it?” the Succubus asked. “It wasn’t okay for Louanne. And I don’t want to jeopardize your work, Lauren. I know how important it is to you.”

“So are you,” Lauren answered immediately, voice roughened by the emotion leaping in her gaze. The smile that slid across Bo’s mouth and wrinkled around her eyes sent all doubt fleeting from Lauren’s head. Because when Bo smiled like that, nothing else seemed to matter. Only the moments they were able to snatch from the day that spun tendrils of emotion around them and wrapped them in a cocoon of their own making, however false it might be in light of the machinations that threatened to overtake them.

“You’re not Louanne,” Lauren said softly. “And I’m not just any human. I think The Ash knows that. It'll be okay,” she said again, hoping that if she were to repeat it often enough, it might actually ring true in the darker recesses of her mind.

“Promise?” Bo’s voice was quiet, but her tone was grave and laden with the serious intent that entered her gaze as she blinked up at the doctor.

Lauren couldn’t help smiling at Bo’s features, at how sometimes the Succubus seemed utterly childlike and innocent in her desperation for normalcy. And even if Bo had accepted that her life had taken a very different path from the one she had been raised to expect, there were times when she seemed completely bereft of the confidence she threw on every day like a disguise. Seeing through that costume, Lauren resigned herself to the fact that, when it came to matters of the heart, they were both still tentatively treading on newer territory. The only problem was that neither of them was sure how solid that ground might be, or whether it might crumble beneath their feet and cause them to fall.

So she leaned in, lifting a hand to place her palm briefly on Bo’s cheek and noting how the Succubus relaxed almost immediately. Smiling, Lauren rubbed the pad of her thumb over Bo’s cheekbone and tilted her head onto one side. “Trust me,” she said slowly. “I’m a doctor.”

Grinning, Bo reached up, sliding her hand around the back of Lauren’s neck and tugging her in closer until their lips finally met. Closing her eyes, Lauren felt Bo move nearer, fingers pushing beneath the neckline of her robe and sliding down over skin that was achingly soft to the touch. Their kiss, deepening in intensity, was electrified by a tongue pushing past lips to stroke at the other, eliciting a moan of desire from the Succubus that was echoed in the murmur from Lauren’s throat. A muscle tensed beneath Bo’s fingers and she dug them into it, hearing with a flush of pleasure the gasp of want that flooded from Lauren’s mouth onto her own.

She tore her mouth from the other woman’s and gazed into the depths of brown eyes that were golden with newly awakened lust. “You don’t really need to shower, do you?” she asked almost coquettishly.

A dubious uncertainty glimmered in Lauren’s gaze and for a moment, it seemed as though the doctor would relent and indulge in the tempting proposition that lay before her. It was an unmistakable frisson that trembled between them; a nebulous emotion that neither could fully discern, yet which drew them together like this time after time. Rising in Lauren’s throat and tingling down her spine, the doctor took a fortifying breath against the onslaught of passion that Bo evoked in every part of her. She had tried to examine it, but every time she did, she found herself breathless in its wake and quite unable to objectify the intoxicating want that she felt for the Succubus.

Pulling backwards out of Bo’s grasp, Lauren gave the Succubus a sweet smile that quite contradicted the shimmering cloud of lust that had appeared around the outline of her body. Bo smiled smugly. She knew Lauren wanted her. Always. Even without her Succubus abilities, she could sense the other woman’s desire for her as a tangible, physical thing that surrounded them and pulled them towards one another. But Lauren took a breath and sat back on the bed.

“I really do,” she said softly, hearing Bo’s sigh of aggrieved disappointment and chuckling at it. She got up off the bed and stood by the side of it for a minute, staring down at Bo with an expression that the Succubus couldn’t quite read, but found that she desperately wanted to. In these moments, Bo felt as though she knew exactly how her own powers affected others, how desire could outweigh reason and banish rationality. But those abilities were brittle with deception and were conjured with the sort of fakery that Bo had always found was empty and devoid of anything resembling real emotion.

But this? This was real. It pounded in Bo’s chest and made her catch her breath every time it raced through her body, as though every time was the first and only time. She wasn’t sure if she hated that sensation or needed it to remind her that she was capable of having it.

“You’re no fun,” she grumbled, flopping back onto the bed and eyeing Lauren with a reluctant gaze of acceptance.

With a boldness that brought a delighted smile to Bo’s face, Lauren untied her robe and let it slip from her body. “I didn’t say I had to shower alone,” she said, turning on her heel and heading towards the bathroom.

Part 5

“You sure you don’t want some of this?” Bo held out a wilting piece of pizza close to Lauren’s mouth, giggling delightedly as the doctor’s face wrinkled into disgust and she jerked her head away from the meat-laden dough.

Returning her gaze to the open file resting on her knees, Lauren shook her head wonderingly and chose to ignore the gurgle of pleasure from the woman beside her. Bo merely shrugged, shoved the food into her mouth and chomped down on it with over-emphasized delectation.

“I honestly don’t know how you can eat at this hour,” Lauren muttered as Bo threw the half-eaten piece of pizza back onto the box lying open at her feet and turned, nestling in closer to the doctor. After their shower had taken much longer than intended and the water ran cold, they had returned to the bedroom where, after slipping into their pajamas, Lauren opened up the file she’d brought home from work and Bo had insisted on ordering food.

“You gave me an appetite, what can I say?” Bo threw up a hand and let it flop back onto her leg with a loud slap. She nudged Lauren and lifted her eyebrows suggestively, evoking a half-amused glare from the doctor. But as it faded from Lauren’s eyes, there was something of a self-satisfied smirk that passed over the doctor’s lips and Bo moved even closer, her shoulder pressing up against Lauren’s skin, still warm from the shower and their lovemaking.

Being a Succubus meant that Bo had something of an insatiable sexual appetite. She’d often wondered about it, feeling that, in some ways, it was her greatest failing. Certainly, it had always precipitated the demise of promise and the death of hope. Before meeting Lauren, Bo had simply resigned herself to the notion that she might never know what other couples seemed to take for granted. She’d begun to envy them the simplicity they had without effort and had well-nigh given up on love altogether because it seemed beyond her grasp, the province of those who weren’t as cursed as she undoubtedly was.

But Lauren had changed all of that. With her grace, perseverance and seemingly limitless patience, the doctor had opened a newer chapter in Bo’s life and almost managed to alter her perceptions on what she did or didn’t deserve.

Almost.

But Bo still feared letting go. She was afraid of the oblivion of release and the power that surged through her when she took energy from another. More than that, she was filled with dread when she thought of what her hunger might take from Lauren that no amount of efforts on her behalf could return. Loving someone and being loved in return had always been her goal. And now, with that achieved, she had only encountered a new set of distant fears and present concerns. Because how could she possibly hope to give Lauren everything that she was when it was stained by death and destruction? Perhaps she truly was flawed, deep down in the very soul of her being. And if she was, then how could what was left behind ever be enough?

Lauren shifted, turning her head and looking down at Bo’s damp hair snaking over a naked shoulder. “What is it?” she asked, as Bo glanced up at her, wide-eyed and questioning.

“What’s what?” Bo asked, confused.

“You’re brooding,” Lauren told her with a smile of affectionate concern.

“I am not!” Bo was at once indignant and defensive, turning her gaze from those brown eyes that seemed to look into the very heart of her. She still couldn’t decide whether she found Lauren’s insight reassuring or just plain irritating, and had reluctantly learned that when it came to hiding her emotions from Lauren, she was bound to fail by epic proportions. “I’m not brooding,” she repeated grumpily.

“Okay,” Lauren shrugged. “But you were.” She returned her gaze to the file in front of her, lips tightening over the self-satisfied knowledge that, sometimes, she knew Bo better than the Succubus knew herself.

Leaning back, Bo fixed Lauren with a woefully peeved expression, mouth falling open as she realized that she had nowhere left to hide. Not anymore. And especially not with Lauren.

“Even if I was, and I’m not saying that I was,” she lifted a finger in rebuke and glared at Lauren. “How the hell could you possibly know that?”

Sighing and pushing the file on her lap to one side, Lauren swiped at her damp hair. To let Bo know that she had studied her, watched her, examined every move she made and every expression that fled across her features would be too much disclosure; too much of herself revealed and too easy to allow her heart to be opened and wrenched apart beyond repair. Caution, she reminded herself, with a twitch of her mouth as the acidic taste of regret burned briefly in her throat. They might be ensconced in relative safety here, but Lauren was all too aware that the outside world was ever-present at their door. And that world – the Fae world – was just waiting to claim them in a plethora of laws and ancient ways that threatened the fragile nature of their relationship.

“Well?” Bo urged, leaning forwards and prodding at Lauren with a rigid finger.

“Super scientific Fae doctor powers,” Lauren shrugged nonchalantly, as Bo’s mouth dropped open and she drew in a long breath.

“Seriously?” the Succubus gasped, uncertainty coloring her gaze.

Lauren laughed and shook her head. “Not even remotely,” she grinned. “But you stopped trying to distract me. That’s always a sign you’re preoccupied.”

Eyes narrowing, Bo’s jaw clenched as she teetered between annoyance and amusement, quite unable to make up her mind which emotion she should rightly feel first. For a moment, she attempted to glare at Lauren, but the sight of the doctor’s amused, dancing gaze beguiled her. After a few moments, she let out a long sigh and slumped back down beside the other woman, muttering oaths to herself that only served to increase Lauren’s mirth.

“I wasn’t brooding,” she lied with a shameful flush on her cheeks. “I was just thinking how nice this is. You know, just the two of us together. We’re like everyone else. Normal.”

“Hm.” Lauren knew that Bo wasn’t telling her the whole truth, but settled for the platitude that the Succubus offered. And as she tugged the file towards her once more, she turned her head to one side, dropping a light kiss onto Bo’s hair. Whatever was on Bo’s mind would come to light sooner or later, and Lauren knew that to push Bo would only taint the relative comfort that they both so desperately needed right now.

Even though she was calmed by Lauren’s presence and the contact of the doctor’s body against her own, Bo couldn’t quite assuage the niggling worry in her head. Because she suspected that somewhere in their future, she might lose the battle she felt with her inherent nature. That her efforts to fight against the passion Lauren inspired might eventually fade and concede defeat. If love was a war, then Bo was fearful of her true nature being the victor over the restraints she placed on it. It taunted her in dreams of Lauren lying motionless and pale beneath her, all life taken by Bo’s unchained hunger. And although the doctor had taught her well about restraint, that very thing was becoming increasingly difficult when Lauren was above her, naked and incandescent with passion and wanton abandon.

Love was so much harder than Bo had ever suspected - not at all like it was in the movies and stories she’d greedily consumed as a child. For every momentary flutter of her heart in her throat, there was the sinking feeling of it sliding into her gut as she remembered who… what she was. And how Lauren, as a human, could never hope to endure the full extent of her abilities should she unleash them.

Perhaps The Ash had a point in reminding Lauren that relationships were forbidden between humans and Fae. Perhaps they were both fooling themselves that this could work. And perhaps, Bo looked up at Lauren, at the pensive frown drawing the lines of the doctor’s features into the most engaging and intriguing portrait, perhaps they really were existing on borrowed time. Time that wasn’t even rightly theirs to begin with.

It wasn’t the most comforting of thoughts, and Bo pushed it from her mind with some difficulty as she stared up at the other woman, peering over the doctor’s arms to where the file lay open on Lauren’s legs.

“Whatcha doin'?” she asked.

Lauren looked sideways at her and the corner of her mouth quirked upwards for a second. “Brain surgery,” she responded with a completely straight face.

Bo let out a huff of exasperation and pushed at Lauren again as the doctor smiled down at her. Those smiles spoke volumes, and Bo hadn’t dared admit that she was keeping track of them in her head; the myriad of emotions that Lauren could express with a single curve of her lips. Joy, sadness, anger… it was all there in the way she smiled. The way that she grasped at her emotions and covered them with the manners she’d learned and the behavior she’d cultivated in her work for the Fae. It was one of the things she loved the most about Lauren. And one of the things that frustrated her to no end, too.

“Seriously, what is that?” Bo shifted on the bed, moving upwards so that she could look over Lauren’s shoulder at the open file on her lap. “Still can’t get a bead on those dead Fae?”

“I’ve gone over the autopsies and the crime scene reports about ten times,” Lauren said, her voice heavy with disappointment. “And I can’t find a thing to connect the victims, never mind the way that they died. But their deaths weren’t natural. They were all in good health, no adverse medical history to speak of, nothing to indicate natural causes.”

Turning slightly, she tilted the file so that Bo could see it. “This guy,” she tapped a picture of an unassuming man in his twenties, Bo guessed, “was found in the Eastern Quarter. But this woman was found downtown.” She lifted the sheet and revealed a woman who looked like every prim schoolteacher Bo had ever had.

“And the autopsies turned up nothing?” Bo asked, as Lauren sighed and nodded begrudgingly.

“If their deaths are connected, then the only link I can find is that they’re all Light Fae. I still have some research to do on the blood work and DNA samples, but apart from that I can’t find a thing that tells me how they might have died. Or why.” The frown on her forehead deepened and Lauren shook her head. She’d looked at these cases from almost every possible angle and still couldn’t find a thing that might even give her a clue as to why Light Fae were dying. And, added to the demands that The Ash was placing on her for answers, she was beginning to feel almost desperately at a loss for explanations.

“You want me and Kenzi to look into it?” Bo suggested, lifting her eyebrows and looking at Lauren.

“Oh,” Lauren said, her mouth forming a tiny circle of surprise at the offer. “Aren’t you working on something already?”

“Nothing as interesting as this,” Bo replied, her gaze returning to the open file and her eyes gleaming with anticipation. “Besides, I want to help you if I can.” Her mouth quirked a smile as she glanced up at the doctor.

“Okay then.” Lauren nodded and took a short breath of satisfaction, pleasure shining in her eyes. “Thank you. I’d appreciate that.”

“Eh… “ Bo waved her hand dismissively in the air. “Slow week,” she added with a grin. Her hand strayed to the file on Lauren’s lap and she tugged until the doctor relinquished it. Bo reached to one side, placing it onto the bedside table and away from Lauren’s gaze.

“We can discuss payment later,” she murmured, her mouth settling onto the curve of Lauren’s neckline as it swept out onto a silken shoulder. Pushing blonde hair to one side, Bo gained more purchase and her mouth nibbled gently upwards to where Lauren’s jaw line jutted out.

“Payment?” Lauren questioned, shifting slightly as Bo leaned over her, feeling one of the Succubus’ legs slip between her own. Even as her brain threw cautionary restraint into her head, her arms slid around the Succubus and she felt her hips begin a slow circle of want that was utterly all-consuming. Pushing herself back onto the plush pillow, Lauren’s head lolled back, exposing her neck. She felt Bo’s teeth against her skin and was aware that they might leave a mark, but it didn’t seem to matter as she closed her eyes and lights began to flicker behind them.

“I don’t come for free, you know,” Bo breathed as she reached the tiny hollow underneath Lauren’s ear and swirled her tongue around in it, eliciting such a guttural sigh from the doctor that Bo couldn’t help but claw at the clothes that kept the doctor’s skin from hers. She shoved her hand up underneath Lauren’s tank top and felt a nipple leap and harden under her touch. The doctor arched her back and slid her hands up into Bo’s hair, grabbing fistfuls of blackness and tugging down hard.

Eliciting a cry of pain from the Succubus that sunk into a sigh of sheer supplication, Lauren felt her chest clench and her limbs become almost fluid as desire flooded them with molten heat. Curving an arm around Bo’s waist, she pushed upwards and shoved the Succubus back down onto the bed, leaning up and over her as Bo’s mouth parted, lips swollen in anticipation of harder kisses that she longed to savor.

Letting out a low chuckle, Bo bucked up beneath the doctor, hips bumping against hips and legs tangling together as bodies pressed close in anticipation. The sudden contact was almost as intoxicating as the air between them, thick and rich with a shining need that surrounded Lauren. It made her glow with a blinding whiteness that caused Bo to blink and catch her breath. Tendrils of blonde hair fell onto her chest as she gazed up at Lauren, eyes widening with the beauty of it, at the lust that was coming off the doctor in waves.

She loved seeing Lauren like this, on the verge of losing control, unable to restrain her appetites. Of all the people Bo had ever seen burn with the feverish vehemence of desire, Lauren was the most beautiful. Hers was a quiet want, a slow burn instead of an explosive conflagration. She wore it every day, allowing it to lick around her limbs and caress them with a constancy that Bo was sure would reduce them to mere ashes in the end. But in moments like this, when daily routines were forgotten and all that existed was the temptation of abandonment, Lauren shone with a fire that consumed them both in an instant.

For a moment, Bo allowed herself the luxury of taking in the features of the other woman. Her eyes lingered greedily over the curve of a cheekbone, the lines around Lauren’s mouth that crinkled when she smiled, the unending solemnity of brown eyes that seemed to bear the weight of a hundred lonely souls in their fathomless depths.

And then Lauren’s mouth was on her neck and all thoughts fled from Bo’s mind, replaced by a keening sound that she soon realized was coming from between her own lips as hands scrabbled beneath her t-shirt and nails scraped up the sides of her body.

“In the interests of medical science,” Lauren whispered, her breath hot and wet against Bo’s ear, “I’d like to test that theory.” The hand that had been making its way over Bo’s ribcage pushed upwards until fingers closed over a hard nipple and pinched gently, drawing yet another ragged gasp from the Succubus’ mouth.

In these moments, where they tumbled towards the brink of overwhelming desire and the precipitous knowledge of abandon, everything else seemed to fade away so that nothing mattered other than this; this desperate closeness that leapt and wavered tantalizingly down their bodies to linger and throb between their thighs. The world simply melted away and left them marooned in the emotion that ebbed and flowed so easily between them. As she gave herself over to it, Bo closed her eyes to the light and drifted into a darkness that claimed her, just as Lauren had. And it felt that somewhere at the back of everything, it was always meant to be that way.

Part 6

Bo wrinkled her nose and stared around the police station with a faint look of distaste in her eyes. From the desks in disarray, covered in empty coffee cups and the detritus of what appeared to be an all-nighter of gigantic proportions, the place looked more like an abandoned frat house than an office. She’d dragged Kenzi here on the off-chance that Dyson might be able to give them a lead on the dead Fae. The file that Lauren possessed had been dissected and pored over back at the house, and it was only now that Bo had relented and decided that some official channels might offer her a suitable starting point.

But Dyson was nowhere to be seen, and although the cop at the front desk had recognized Bo and even let her up into Dyson’s office unaccompanied, the detective’s chair was empty and his desk littered with papers. Unable to resist, Bo had already picked through some of them but, finding nothing remotely relevant at first glance, she had given up, turning to Kenzi and rolling her eyes.

“This is a waste of time,” she growled, folding her arms over her chest. “Dyson’s always around until you need him and then he’s like the invisible man.”

Kenzi shook her head and peered around Bo to gaze balefully at the desk of the aforementioned detective. “Was there a full moon last night or something?” she asked, shrugging. “Maybe he’s curled up in the woods, all furry and grrr!” She hooked her hands into claws and bared her teeth.

Bo let out a mirthless laugh and shoved at Kenzi’s shoulder in playful reprove. “I don’t think happens exactly the same way it does in storybooks, Kenz.”

“Well it should,” Kenzi said huffily. “If we have to suffer one week out of every four, then he should too.”

Quirking an eyebrow, Bo fixed Kenzi with a somewhat bemused gaze and shook her head. “Okay, are you really comparing Dyson’s wolfing out to menstruation? Seriously?”

Kenzi shrugged again, tilting her head onto one side and lifting her hands slightly in nonchalance. “If it works, it works,” she said.

Turning away again, Bo wandered over to Dyson’s desk and glowered at it as though she could make him materialize with a hard stare. “It doesn’t,” she muttered, shoving at some of the papers on the desk and sighing loudly in irritation.

“What are we supposed to be looking for anyway?” Kenzi sauntered past Bo and flung herself into Dyson’s chair. Lifting her legs, she put her feet onto the corner of the desk, her casual propriety exuded with such aplomb that it seemed Kenzi was a seasoned member of the team here at the precinct.

Bo frowned good-naturedly. Kenzi had quite the habit of making herself perfectly at home – especially if that home happened to belong to someone else. There had been a time when she’d feared taking Kenzi to the Fae labs because the girl was simply unable to keep her hands to herself, never mind exercise restraint when it came to touching, fiddling with or just plain stealing other people’s property. Reaching out, Bo shoved Kenzi’s feet from the edge of the desk and perched on the space they vacated. As her boots thudded onto the tiled floor, Kenzi let out a cry of dismay and fixed the Succubus with a distinctly aggrieved glare.

“We’re looking for leads on these dead Fae,” Bo said quietly, glancing towards the entrance to the office lest some passing cops should overhear. Bo had seen how dense humans could be, explaining away the existence of things they didn’t understand with unwittingly simple theories. Sometimes they even just downright made shit up to justify the things they couldn’t - wouldn’t - believe. Bo had been like that once, too; in fact, when she was younger, her own abilities had seemed like the work of some demonic punishment and there had been a while when she’d prayed for them to go away.

It wasn’t until she’d been introduced to the Fae that she’d finally understood who she really was. Well, she mused, glaring at Kenzi who was playing with the phone on Dyson’s desk, begun to understand, anyway. And Lauren had played a huge part in that comprehension. Lauren, whose patience and incessant need to figure things out had brought Bo to a realization of her abilities. Lauren, who, in her efforts to help Bo not only appreciate but actually start to like who she was, had become intrinsically entwined in that discovery.

A faint smile ghosted over Bo’s lips as she thought of the doctor. The real discovery, she told herself, had been each other. It had unfolded the secrets of her heart and allowed hope to take up residence there. And hope hadn’t been a part of Bo’s life for so long that she’d almost forgotten the clenching, breathless feeling it wound inside her chest.

“Okay, stop that.” Kenzi’s voice intruded upon Bo’s thoughts and she turned to see her friend looking at her with narrowed eyes.

“Stop what?”

“You’re doing that thing… there’s this look on your face every time you’re thinking about Lauren’s naked bits.” Kenzi’s lip curled in distaste and she rolled her eyes. She still had some way to go before she would feel comfortable about Lauren’s presence in their lives, and trust had never been one of her strong points anyway. So when it came to the subject of Bo and Lauren’s relationship, Kenzi had decided that she would offer support as Bo’s best buddy, but retain her suspicious appraisal of the doctor.

Bo snorted and waved her hand dismissively in the air. “Shut up, freak. There’s no look,” she said, kicking lightly with reprove at Kenzi’s booted feet.

“Uh huh,” Kenzi murmured and shrugged. “So you’re not thinking about Lauren’s naked bits?” Her eyebrows rose questioningly and she stared at Bo until the Succubus let out a short laugh and swatted an arm towards her.

“Well now I am, thanks.” Bo folded her arms over her chest and glowered at Kenzi before letting out an impatient sigh. “Come on,” she jerked her head towards the door. “He’s obviously not here.”

“Who isn’t?”

Dyson’s voice reached them as he strode through the doorway and stopped, looming over Kenzi with a disapproving gaze. He put a hand on her shoulder and, to her great chagrin, unceremoniously shoved her off his chair before dropping heavily into the seat. Glancing up at the two women in front of him, he pursed his lips as Bo rose to her feet and briefly rested her hands on her hips.

“It’s like the freakin' Marie Celeste in here,” Bo commented, sweeping a hand around the office. “Where is everyone?”

“Doing that thing called working for a living,” Dyson intoned, quirking an eyebrow at the Succubus. “You might want to try it sometime.”

“Hey!” Bo tensed and glowered at him, but a hand on her arm prevented her from saying anything further as Kenzi stepped forwards.

“Excuse me, Bo,” the girl said shortly, “but I think you'll find that’s my ‘hey' there.”

Turning to Dyson, she pointed a finger towards his amused features and jabbed forcefully. “Hey!” she said. “If I remember correctly, there’ve been several cases - “ She glanced at Bo who held up three fingers in the air and then turned back to Dyson with a determined expression on her face. “Three cases,” she added emphatically, “that wouldn’t have been solved if Bo and I hadn’t stepped in. So think on that, Officer Works A Lot.”

Dyson couldn’t help smirking and held up his hands in mock defense. “Okay, okay,” he rumbled. “You and Bo have been somewhat helpful to the cops. Happy now?”

Kenzi sniffed and folded her arms over her chest. “Not even remotely,” she murmured, giving Dyson a distinctly imperious stare.

“Anyway,” Bo interjected before Kenzi could start another tirade of offended rambling and name-calling, “I was kind of hoping you might give us your information on these Fae murders.”

Instinctively glancing towards the doorway, Dyson let out a faintly amused noise and rubbed at his chin, shrugging slightly. “I didn’t know you were working this case,” he said, looking at Bo with curious eyes.

“We uh… we’re not, officially,” the Succubus answered. “But if this thing is killing Fae, then I figured I might have access to contacts that you don’t.” She stood back, proud of herself, and watched as Dyson mulled the suggestion over, finally reaching across his desk and tugging a file from the bottom of a heap of papers Bo hadn’t disturbed. He handed it to her slowly and didn’t let go for a few seconds as though intrinsically reluctant to give her his information. But what he’d gathered had proven fairly useless in the greater scheme of things and he figured that all his file would do was keep Bo and Kenzi busy. And probably not much more than that.

“So you’re working for the Light Fae now?” he asked in a low tone. “Or is this just to help out your girlfriend?”

“That’s what I said!” Kenzi blurted brightly, nodding delightedly and ignoring the blistering glare that Bo shot at her.

“I’m working for me, Dyson.” Bo bristled as the cop grinned at her. He did this sort of thing on purpose, she was sure of that. He’d proven himself somewhat noble when he’d helped Trick rescue Lauren from the Fae, but it hadn’t lasted very long and he’d soon returned to his usual self, making caustic comments whenever he could and appearing satisfied when he got a rise out of her. She couldn’t figure out whether it was because he couldn’t help himself, or whether it was because he was jealous. Either way, she wished he’d quit it and at least pretend to act like the nonchalant man he purported to be.

Dyson smiled, baring his teeth in a feral moment of pleasure. He could see the irritation flooding Bo’s features and, although he knew it was petty, he couldn’t help feeling a little placated. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.” He shrugged and swiveled the chair around so that he was facing his desk, broad shoulders turned to them in dismissal.

Taking a step forwards, Bo leaned down and pressed her lips close to Dyson’s ear, smirking at the tiny, sharp intake of breath he sucked in at her intimate proximity. Her lips curved seductively and she breathed against his skin before speaking, relishing the way he suddenly burned for her. “Oh, Dyson,” she whispered, “if you knew what really helps me sleep at night, your head would explode.”

Standing back, she saw his eyes turn on her and narrow. His lip curled in annoyance and, she could tell, arousal. Her smile became smug and she held up the file in front of his gaze.

“Thanks for this,” she said lightly. “Come on Kenzi. Let’s leave Dyson alone to do all that super important police work.” She grabbed her friend by the arm and tugged her towards the doorway, Kenzi lifting a hand in farewell that Dyson barely acknowledged.

Once they had disappeared, Dyson let out a long growling breath, staring down at his desk and the papers scattered on its surface. His hand clenched into a fist and he shook his head, unable to quell the growing ire in his gut. Lifting his fist in the air, he brought it down hard onto his desk, hearing a satisfactory crack as the wood underneath bowed in acknowledgement of his Fae strength.

Bo would drive him crazy if he let her. And not in the ways he’d envisaged, either, he thought ruefully. Lifting his hand again, he rubbed at it absent-mindedly and leaned back in his chair, pushing his legs out under his desk and sighing deeply. He just had to make sure that never happened.

Part 7

“If you wanted to kill Light Fae, why would you choose these four people?” Bo stared down at the profiles of the victims spread over their coffee table and then looked up at Kenzi, perched on the arm of the couch beside her. “I mean, they don’t live anywhere near each other, they’re all different ages and they’re all from different clans.”

“What does that mean?” Kenzi mumbled through a mouthful of cereal that she was eating straight from the box.

Bo frowned, her mouth twisting at the corners. “They’re not the same kinds of Fae. So whoever’s killing them doesn’t have a death wish on any particular order.” She repeated the words that Lauren had taught her; naming Fae required a specific vocabulary that Bo had recited by rote until it had finally sunk into her brain. It seemed important to know those sorts of details.

But then, most things Lauren taught her seemed pretty important in one way or another. Bo wanted to absorb as much knowledge about her kind as possible, and had become something of an eager student when it came to the Fae. Knowing them brought her closer to knowing herself, and although she was still reluctant to join either the Light or the Dark, Bo was at least ready to move to being on familiar terms with the language that defined them.

“Clans, orders,” Kenzi remarked in a tired tone. “Why can’t we just call them people?” She shoved another handful of cereal into her mouth, quite oblivious to the fact that a large amount of it fell into her lap and onto the couch.

“Because they’re not people,” Bo corrected her, casting a pained look at the cereal that was scattered across the couch cushions. “I’m not a person either.”

“Sure you are!” Kenzi’s voice was muffled by the food in her mouth but she gave Bo a bright smile nonetheless. “You’re my person, actually.”

Despite herself, Bo smiled up at her friend and chose to ignore Kenzi’s dubious domestic habits. She may have lost her human parents, but she’d found a new family here. Kenzi’s senses might be attuned to the criminal elements around them, but it was because of this, not in spite of it, that Bo trusted her friend in ways she’d never trusted anyone before. Kenzi helped her remain rooted in the human world. So it was relief, not reprove, that colored her gaze as she turned back to the profiles spread out in front of her.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, Bo finally threw up her hands and slumped back onto the couch. Kenzi slid down from the arm of the sofa and curled up next to her, knees nudging against Bo’s shoulders, the cereal box cast aside.

“Wanna go out for drinks tonight?” she enquired, prodding Bo with a crumb-covered finger. “You look like you need one. Or, you know, five.”

Bo smiled absently and shrugged. “Maybe. I’m kinda tired though.”

“I know,” Kenzi said gravely, and the tone of her voice brought Bo’s eyes to rest on the serious features of her friend. “Haven’t you been… uh, keeping your strength up with Lauren?” Her eyebrows lifted and the inference was clear as she tilted her head to one side. As far as Kenzi was aware, Bo and Lauren spent enough time doing the nasty to feed a thousand Succubae. Her nostrils flared as she considered the scenario and she resolved never to think of it again. She loved Bo, but like a sister. The thought of her obvious sexuality in action, so to speak, was kind of disturbing.

Bo grunted and shrugged. “She’s human, Kenz. I can feed from her but if I take too much, then… “ She didn’t need to finish her sentence to convey the disastrous consequences of draining Lauren, and Kenzi nodded in realization beside her, letting out a faint conciliatory sigh.

“Actually, Lauren’s been trying to get me to feed from Fae. Their energy is much more… what was the word she used… potent, that’s it. It’s much more potent than human energy. She says that I need to take more than she can give me.”

“So let’s hit The Dal! You can have a three-course Fae meal and I can sample some of Trick’s top shelf booze!” Kenzi said delightedly, her expression falling only seconds after she saw lines of dubious disagreement form on Bo’s brow. “Or uh… not?” she added.

Drawing a short breath, Bo turned to face her friend and shook her head. “You see, that’s the thing. I need energy to survive. So I can take it from Lauren, which kind of keeps me running on empty most of the time but it’s better than nothing. Or I can take it from a Fae, which means I can go longer with less feeds. But if I’m injured, I need more of that energy to heal and - ”

“And not even Lauren’s smokin’ lady parts can help with that.” Kenzi nodded, recalling that fateful night when Lauren had insisted she call Dyson to help Bo heal. Sex, she thought, with a twist of her lips. It always came down to sex in the end. And where Bo was concerned, it was pretty much sex at the beginning and middle, too.

“It feels wrong, Kenzi,” Bo said dolefully. “Feeding from someone else, it feels wrong. And she’s told me to do it but I think deep down, she doesn’t really want me to.”

“Have you talked to her about that?”

“Endlessly,” Bo grimaced with the memory of the heated conversations she’d had with Lauren on the subject of her feeding.

“It’s not like you’re cheating on her, right?” Kenzi leaned forwards and peered hopefully into Bo’s face.

“Actually, it feels exactly like I’d be doing that,” Bo admitted dolefully.

Kenzi let out a dramatically loud sigh and threw her arm around her friend, tugging the Succubus against her as she squished herself further onto the couch. “Poor Bo,” she cooed, leaning her head against the dark one resting on her shoulder. “Stuck on the horny horns of an emotional dilemma.”

“Huh,” Bo shrugged, extricating herself from Kenzi’s grasp and giving the girl a sideways glance. “I never thought having a relationship with someone would be so hard, you know? Sometimes I feel like I’m just not supposed to be with anyone at all. Not with a human and especially not a human like Lauren.”

Rolling her eyes sardonically, Kenzi shook her head. “Doesn’t Lauren understand this stuff more than anyone else though? I mean, she’s basically a walking Fae Wikipedia.” Pausing thoughtfully for a second, she nodded and her face broke into a delighted grin. “She’s a Faepedia!”

After a second, the grin dropped from her face and she paused, musing over her words. “Actually,” she finally said with a frown, “that sounds kinda dirty.”

Bo ignored Kenzi’s attempts to cheer her up, instead folding her arms over her chest and leaning back onto the couch. Lauren might understand, but Bo was pretty sure that the doctor wasn’t wholly comfortable with the idea of her feeding from others. It was such an intimate way to exist, she thought to herself. And she’d fed from all sorts of people - a lot of them she hadn’t cared one iota about - but the mere act of taking someone’s essence was an experience that changed people. Changed her, in some ways. Sure, she could indiscriminately feed from humans or Fae, but she always left with a part of the other person inside her, sustaining her. And lately she hadn’t fed from anyone except Lauren, so she’d become accustomed to the taste of the other woman.

She wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to change her diet without provocation. Not unless she absolutely had to, anyway. But the pounding in her head and the itching at the back of her brain suggested that perhaps might need to. And Bo didn’t like that one bit.

A knock at their door brought twin sets of eyes darting across the room towards the entrance to their home. Kenzi pressed her lips together and muttered something about annoying evening callers but dragged herself from the couch and slouched across the room reluctantly. Grasping the door handle, she opened it to see Lauren standing on the doorstep which only served to harden the line of her mouth and glint recalcitrance up into her eyes.

“It’s Lauren,” she threw dully across the room to Bo, who shot upwards, peering over the back of the couch with a beaming smile of greeting. Kenzi stood back and let the doctor enter, but not before giving her a dubiously hostile stare that Lauren didn’t fail to notice.

“And a good evening to you too, Kenzi,” she murmured as she passed the girl on her way towards Bo.

“I mean, yay! It’s Lauren!” Kenzi threw her hands up into the air as she kicked the front door shut and followed the doctor back into the living room, a forced expression of fake glee on her features.

“Ignore her,” Bo commented, giving Kenzi a hard stare of reprove.

“Already have,” Lauren said with a faint smile. But the frown on her brow didn’t completely disappear. She knew that Kenzi didn’t completely trust her or even like her that much. They were too different – too set in their ways to ever truly find common ground. In fact, the only common ground they did have was their love for Bo. And they had fallen into tolerance in order to sustain and deepen that love.

Lauren would never admit it to Kenzi, but she was oddly comforted by the girl’s presence in Bo’s life. Kenzi might be borne from the criminal element and could be horribly abrasive and rude at times, but her devotion to Bo was steadfast and fierce enough to appease some of the doctor’s fears. In the moments when Bo forgot rationality and acted solely on her tempestuous emotions, Kenzi had been there to remind her of the very human heart that Bo possessed. For all her bluster, the girl had a firmly ensconced moral code that she impressed upon the Succubus even when – and especially when – it was difficult to do so.

It just wasn’t a moral code that Lauren could understand or adhere to, she thought grimly, moving to sit beside Bo on the couch and glancing down at the coffee table.

“I see you got what you wanted from Dyson,” she said, as Kenzi drew close and peered over their shoulders, afraid of missing anything.

Bo shrugged. “For what it’s worth, yeah. I mean, I can’t find anything to link these people at all. Kenzi’s going to sneak a look into their financials but apart from that… “ She trailed off as she pressed her lips together and shook her head helplessly.

“I think it’s better if you don’t tell me what Kenzi’s going to do,” Lauren said in a low tone, bringing a wry smile to Bo’s mouth and an aggrieved expression to Kenzi’s face.

Pushing herself up off the sofa, Kenzi let out a dismissive snort and glared down at the back of Lauren’s head. “Listen,” she said nonchalantly, “you’ve got the mad scientist skills; I’ve got other mad skills. ’Kay? Now I’m going to The Dal where nobody besmirches my rep.” She clattered around the lounge for a few seconds, grabbing her cell phone and coat and then left, noisily banging the front door behind her.

“Mad scientist?” Lauren muttered wonderingly, trying to decide whether she was offended or secretly delighted by the description.

“Take it from me, that’s Kenzi’s way of a compliment,” Bo grinned, bumping her shoulder against Lauren’s. For a moment, they lost themselves in a shared mirth that seemed easy and comfortable. But reality came rushing back in all too soon, sweeping the smile from Lauren’s face and replacing it with something more somber, more troubling.

Bo’s gaze moved back to the table, settling on the photographs of faces that no longer belonged in the world. For a moment, she simply stared at them, at their features and the smiles they were directing towards the camera. Then she let out a long sigh and leaned back onto the couch, watched by Lauren’s careful gaze.

“People die, Bo,” the doctor said gently, seeing a troubled expression flit across Bo’s face before settling into her eyes. As they swung around to fix upon Lauren’s face, the doctor offered a comforting smile to accompany her words. “It’s not fair, but people die.”

“You’re saying this to the person who had a ten-year killing spree. I know that people die,” Bo remarked dryly. Blinking, she shook her head and sighed again. “But if there’s something out there killing Light Fae, then we have to find out who… or what,” she added.

“Well, that might be easier for you to do if you were affiliated to them in the first place,” Lauren suggested, ignoring the dark gaze that came her way.

“Listen,” she said, turning to Bo and taking the Succubus’ hand in her own, “if you were to join the Light, then you could access all of our resources without having to hide it all the time. I mean – “

“Okay, stop.” Bo held up her hand and shook her head, her lips forming a tight line of discontent. Lauren paused, open-mouthed on the cusp of daring to speak and knowing that to do so would probably result in another argument. Sighing, Bo relented slightly and leaned forwards, taking the other woman’s hand in her own. “Just stop,” she said, a little more gently.

“Bo… ”

“I know, okay?” Bo shrugged, squeezing Lauren’s hand and lacing their fingers together in an attempt to quell the doubt and resistance that she saw flitting through the other woman’s gaze. If only joining the Light was that easy – but to abandon her sense of injustice would betray everything she’d fought so hard for. Everything she’d wanted.

It wasn’t fair. And it wasn’t right, either.

But she and Lauren were caught in the dead center of it, nonetheless.

“If I join the Light,” Bo began slowly, “then all the contacts I’ve worked so hard to make among the Dark won’t even look twice at me, much less help me with anything more than a one-way trip to the morgue.”

Cocking her head onto one side, she saw the twitch of Lauren’s mouth, corners turning down as the doctor sighed and looked at their joined hands. She understood. Bo knew that Lauren always understood. It was in her nature – the nature she had acquired from her work for The Ash – to take a considered view of things. But it tempered Bo’s behavior and calmed her in a way that she hadn’t ever really experienced. So as the Succubus watched Lauren’s expression reach for the rationality she had offered, Bo couldn’t help but wonder if this was why they worked. Why they were together.

“I don’t want what we have to put you in danger.” Lauren’s confession came from a head that ducked towards her chest and a voice that trembled a little. Taking a short breath to fortify herself, she lifted her head and looked into Bo’s eyes, dark clouds of worry scudding across her features. “If you joined the Light, then you’d have their protection.”

“But I’d have to turn my back on the Dark.” Bo slid her hands away from Lauren’s and frowned. “And like it or not, they’ve helped me solve cases and make a living.”

Lauren tilted her head slightly and shrugged. “The Light would find you a job and somewhere to live and - ”

“I have somewhere to live! I have a job!” Bo protested, ignoring the wide-eyed gaze that Lauren turned on her. Clenching her teeth together, Bo swallowed against her rising ire. “Just because The Ash has taken over your life doesn’t mean I have to let him take over mine,” she growled.

She looked away, not wanting to see the hurt expression on Lauren’s face. But as seconds of thunderous silence followed, Bo felt regret shoot through her chest and settle at the base of her throat, thickening it with apology.

“I’m sorry,” she said finally, turning to look at Lauren. She wanted to reach out, to take Lauren in her arms and pour platitudes over the sudden awkwardness that roiled between them. But Lauren slid her hands into her lap, clasping them together, her back rigid and the protective air of polite distance gleaming in her eyes. She was angry; Bo could tell. And when Lauren threw her a tight smile and a sharp nod, Bo could tell that Lauren was upset.

The Succubus wasn’t sure which she hated causing more.

“Lauren,” Bo began, shrugging helplessly. “I know things would be easier for you if I joined the Light. I mean, they might be easier for me, too. But it’s not who I am. I thought you knew that. I don’t believe in clubs or teams.”

The doctor let out a low noise of indulgence that Bo had heard a hundred times before. Only, this time, it was followed with a faint look of reproach. “The Light is hardly a club, Bo.”

“Oh yeah?” Bo said quickly. “Come on, we’ve all seen what happens to Fae who don’t play by the rules.”

“You are in a very dangerous position by not aligning yourself with anyone,” Lauren’s mask cracked and for a moment, fear glinted deep in her gaze. “The more you work with the Dark, the less tolerant The Ash will be about us. The only reason he’s being lenient right now is because he’s curious about you. But your refusal to even think about pledging yourself to the Light means that he’ll grow less forgiving.”

“So?” Bo lifted her hands in the air, her distaste for The Ash tugging at the planes of her face and distorting them.

The mask slipped completely. At the mercy of her own emotions, Lauren reached out and grabbed Bo’s hands, holding on so tightly that it seemed she was terrified of letting go. And perhaps she was.

“Once someone is shunned from the community, it is forbidden to acknowledge them. I wouldn’t be able to see you, or talk to you, or associate with you in any way. You’d have to go away, or I would.” As Bo opened her mouth to protest, Lauren shook her head and frowned. “This time The Ash wouldn’t tolerate it.”

“If he even tries to hurt you again – “

“I’m not talking about me, Bo.” Lauren squeezed the hands in her own and bit at her lower lip. “If you crossed him, he’d have you killed.”

It wasn’t the most romantic of pleas, nor was it the most apposite. But time was running out – perhaps it had been from the first moment they met. She never much believed in fate or destiny, but if she were pressed, then Lauren might have said that it was a cruel hand guiding them towards one another only to have them falter now.

Being with Bo had made her selfish – selfish for all the things she’d hidden from and suspected she didn’t deserve. Lauren had always thought selfishness was easy; so many humans and Fae alike seemed to share that trait. She’d observed to herself on more than one occasion that greed, like every other primal emotion, seemed an inherent part of creation itself.

But this wasn’t easy. The emotion itself was effortless. But the wanting that came with it was almost insurmountable. And Lauren had seen everything she’d ever wanted through selfish eyes that blurred with tears of longing. Before selfishness, love had never clutched at her chest. Before selfishness, she’d never craved it the way she did now. Before selfishness, Lauren had been content to live an undeserving life and had resigned herself to it with grace and ignorance.

With a heavy heart, Lauren acquiesced to the knowledge that a part of her should remain resigned. Because if she did deserve love, then surely she wouldn’t be living in fear of how it might destroy her.

She had begged The Ash not to make her choose. But knowing love, lying with it curled against her, feeling its strength flood her veins, Lauren knew that any notion of choice was unfounded and irrelevant. Being with Bo was quite unlike anything Lauren had ever experienced. And innocence was proving to be a masterful tutor.

“So much for everything being okay, then,” Bo commented dryly, breaking Lauren’s reverie and bringing the doctor’s gaze to her face. “This is going to be a problem, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know.” Lauren shrugged and felt honesty leave her only to be replaced by doubt and not a little fear. “It’s not just that you’re unaligned,” she leaned towards Bo, laying her palm over the top of the Succubus’ hand.

“What is it, then?”

“I’m human. Fae law – “

“Their laws are stupid!” Bo’s voice was tight, her words staccato.

“But we could both be subject to their consequences,” Lauren said slowly. The Ash had been right – it would be almost impossible to justify it to the High Council, not to mention the more tenacious members of the Light community. Lauren had seen varying degrees of tolerance towards humans and the respect that she’d garnered had been hard-earned. But respect often atrophied in the face of prejudice, carefully taught and cultivated in a society thousands upon thousands of years old.

“No,” Bo snapped, shaking her head. “No, Lauren. I’ll never choose the Light if they’re going to make me give you up. How can you even suggest something like that?” She was incredulous, panicked by the mere thought. Even as the truth of it fluttered into her head and beat wildly against her temples, Bo clamped her lips into a firm line of dissent.

“I want to keep you safe, Bo.” Lauren dipped her head, afraid to look into the hurt gaze in front of her. “Whatever the cost.”

“By handing me over to the Light and then leaving me?” Bo cried, caught between despair and fury.

“But you’d be safe, Bo. Godammit, can’t you see that?” Lauren’s voice broke over her words and tears flurried into a whirl, thickening her throat. Wresting her hands from Bo’s, Lauren dropped her head, fingertips reaching to blot at her eyes.

“Hey.” A hand slid over Lauren’s cheek, a thumb tracing a moistened pathway across the skin. Lifting the blonde head before her, Bo frowned into Lauren’s eyes and shook her head a little, mouth opening in silent recognition.

“I am safe,” Bo said gently, reassuringly. And for a moment, Lauren almost believed her. “I keep myself safe, Lauren. And I’m strong enough to keep you safe, too, if you need me to. Okay?” She peered up into Lauren’s face and attempted a smile.

It was easy to allow selfishness to take hold and believe the lie. Believe that nothing else really mattered or that the fervency of Bo’s declaration was an equal opponent to the Light Fae. Even in the back of her mind, Lauren’s desire wrestled with the truth and almost convinced her to succumb to the thought that Bo could protect her – that this imagined loss would never enter reality. Their reality.

Leaning back, Lauren swiped at her eyes once more and pushed at her hair. Straightening her back, she sat rigid on the sofa and allowed a smile to curve her lips. Her most selfish act was this: caring, being cared about. Loving someone and allowing them to return that love. The reciprocal elation that it could even happen. So how could she ever put her own happiness before Bo’s? How could she ever expose the woman she loved to the cruelty of truth and the expectation of demise?

She smiled again and nodded. “Okay,” she heard herself say. And the lie was complete.

Part 8

Leaning back from the microscope, Lauren took a breath and steadied herself, biting at her lower lip. Blinking before swiping a hand over her eyes, she bent forwards once more and pressed against the tiny lens. She’d spent five contiguous hours immersed in her work - five hours that had been a welcome escape from the more troublesome thoughts that seemed to occupy her mind of late. And, turning to the one immutable force in her life that had never let her down, she’d found a gratifying release in the facts and figures scribbled down in her notebook and added to her database.

For Lauren, science was a way of life; its stricture was absolute and offered no blurring of lines or room for doubts. It was a far cry from the nebulous and murky ocean of her life beyond the lab and she found that it comforted her with a stoicism she’d always leaned upon in the past, making it an integral part of her demeanor and presence in the Fae world. Perhaps, even, in her existence outside of that world.

It was to science, then, that she turned with alacrity. And it responded in kind, quickening her mind to thoughts that were contained in process and order, not in the chaos that roiled in her gut every time she thought about Bo. In the last five hours, Lauren had all but forgotten the tense conversation she’d had with the Succubus and instead had gladly succumbed to the one thing in her life that remained when everything else seemed beyond her reach. It was why she had been indulged by The Ash, after all; the reason he had taken her under his protection and nurtured her skills, finely honing them into what Lauren considered her own special abilities.

Sometimes she felt empowered, as though there was nothing she couldn’t do or achieve. And for a while, her work was the only constant in her life. Lovers came and went - most of them secondary to what she felt was her higher purpose. But it was more than that; her work had been her life for so long that emotional entanglements came to be an intrusion on the fastidious way she lived. Lovers demanded more than she was willing to give and she found, ultimately, that if she were to sacrifice anything, it would be a relationship that tried to lay claims on what she considered a truer love.

Most people failed to understand her dedication, or the reasons why she pledged such devotion to her work under The Ash’s gimlet gaze. And certainly, most lovers she’d been with simply wouldn’t have been able to comprehend her work, even if she had seen fit to tell them. Living with secrets and lies weighed heavily on any attempts at intimacy; it forced her to be cautious and withholding. So if she suffered accusations of being distant, then they were well-deserved. Because being devoted to her work for the Light, receiving the grace of The Ash and witnessing all the incomprehensible things she had in her involvement with the Fae could never be grasped by a human mind. Not the sort of human that wanted to be with her, anyway.

In the end, Lauren had abjured the notion of a relationship with a human and denied herself the possibility of a relationship with the Fae. She was their servant and her will to please The Ash in all she did far outweighed her need to be loved. Obliterated it, in fact. She had simply accepted that, in order to fulfill her promise and uphold any sense of honor, she must be alone.

But it was only recently that she’d realized she was lonely. And then Bo came along, crashing into her ordered world and tearing down all the walls that Lauren had built with care and attention. It had thrown everything into relief and horrified her as she discovered that, not only was she capable of loving someone else more than she thought possible, but was also able to receive that sort of love in return.

It came as some consolation, then, that after a couple of hours into her research, Lauren realized that she was beginning to find solace in the complicated deconstruction of genetic materials in front of her. A faint smile parted her lips as she sat back from the microscope and let out a long, satisfied sigh. Immersed in the quiet of the lab, she had almost forgotten that there was a world outside, much less one that contained shadowy threats and a clock that was ticking away faster than she might like.

She glanced at her notebook and chewed at her lower lip again as she went over her scribbled results once more, checking each fact, each detail with a frown that burrowed between her eyes. Her fingers pushed at a stray lock of hair, tucking it back behind one ear as she made sure that she was correct in her findings. The Ash didn’t tolerate failure. He tolerated carelessness even less. It was one of the reasons Lauren had become as meticulous as she had, and today was no exception. This case was no exception. And it had puzzled her from the outset with each death as seemingly innocuous as the last.

Until now.

Without even looking, she reached to one side and picked up the phone, punching in a number she knew by heart and waiting until a voice at the other end of the line responded.

“I have some results for you,” she began in a low, terse tone. “I think I might have an angle on the deaths.”

***

Bo knocked on the door and then stood back, shuffling alongside Kenzi and casting a grim look down the alleyway. They’d chosen the last victim to investigate first and had found an address that wasn’t contained in the records Dyson had given her.

Hardly surprising, thought Bo, squinting down the alley and wondering if this was a wise idea. The victim’s official address had been in a rather suburban part of town, with neat houses and even neater lawns evenly spaced on either side of a wide road. It created a picture of stability, an image of humdrum life where nothing bad ever happened and, even if it did, the neighborhood watch would commune to right wrongs and restore order to the quiet lives that the residents there appeared to live.

But Bo knew that such domestic bliss usually covered up a plethora of evildoings and had been skeptical to say the least when their interviews all garnered the same responses. The victim had been a well-mannered man; he kept to himself. No, there hadn’t been any visitors to his house. No, he hadn’t been in trouble with the police before. Yes, he’d always been very pleasant and nobody appeared to have any cause for concern when it came to his comings and goings. The back story that Dyson had given her checked out. Shay Nicholls had been ordinary almost to the point of insignificance. Kenzi had remarked rather drolly to Bo that he’d probably died of boredom rather than anything truly dangerous.

Then, at Trick’s bar, she’d overheard a conversation that indicated something rather more fascinating. Two Fae had been muttering to one another within earshot and Bo had seized the opportunity to sidle up to them and ask questions they didn’t dare refuse to answer. Especially not after she’d used her powers on them and they’d been more forthcoming than even she had expected. They’d told her that the victim frequented a downtown place and, if their expressions had been anything to go by, it wasn’t the sort of place that Nicholls’ suburban neighbors would approve of. But their details were sketchy and they hadn’t been able to tell her when Nicholls visited, or what for.

Seducing the address from them had been easy. But, even when Bo made promises that she very much intended not to keep, they were unable to give her any more details other than the fact that Shay was an okay guy whose reasons for visiting a rather salubrious part of town remained between him and his maker. And it wasn’t reluctance that kept those reasons from the Succubus; it was simply the mere fact that, whatever Nicholls was doing hadn’t warranted him entrusting them with his drinking buddies at The Dal.

With a faint thrill of anticipatory discovery, Bo and Kenzi had hotfooted it downtown and found themselves in a dirty alley, barely lit by the glow of streetlamps that glistened a sickly yellow fluorescence into the gaping maw of the entrance. The eagerness with which they’d followed the lead faded almost instantly as they picked their way past piles of garbage heaped up against walls slick with moss and damp. As they began to leave the road - and the streetlights - behind, both women found that they moved closer to one another, as though by mere virtue of their proximity they might be able to ignore the stench rising from the ground beneath their feet and the disconcerting sounds of scuttling coming from the pitch black shadows.

The buildings on either side of the alley loomed over them, throwing them into darkness. They passed a few doorways, sunken into the brick walls like aged scars, paint peeling from their surfaces, a couple of them boarded over almost completely. Wherever they led, it was clear that nobody had been there in some time and the silence that descended over the two women seemed oppressive, gravitating down around them and tugging an obscure gloom with it.

Bo shivered. It wasn’t the darkness she was afraid of. It was the things that lurked in it. Things that she hadn’t even known existed until she’d wandered into the world of the Fae. From the closeness of her friend, it was clear that Kenzi was thinking the exact same thing.

About halfway down the alleyway, almost hidden behind a heap of overflowing garbage cans, Bo spotted a doorway that had a number scrawled on it. Reaching out, she grasped Kenzi’s arm and pulled the girl to one side.

“Here it is,” she pointed with her free hand to the number in white paint that had dribbled down the grimy door, making it look more like a warning than an indication of identity. “Thirty six. This is where those guys said Shay Nicholls used to come.”

“Jeez,” Kenzi murmured, her gaze glancing back down the alleyway. “I’ve lived in some shitholes in my time, but seriously, this place is rank.” She wrinkled her nose as she tried not to take in their surroundings and shuddered. “Dude has a perfectly nice house in the ’burbs. What the hell was he doing here?”

Shrugging, Bo pressed her lips together in a firm line of determination and turned to the door. “Whatever it was, I’m going to find out.” She lifted a hand and moved forwards, knocking on the door a few times before glancing at Kenzi. The girl was on full alert, eyes darting all around as though she expected them to be leapt upon any second. Although, Bo mused, if their experiences with the Fae were anything to go by, then Kenzi’s circumspect vigilance probably wasn’t that misguided.

She shuddered, despite herself. She might not live in the lap of luxury, but this was the sort of place that no self-respecting Fae would willingly seek out – not unless they were involved in something they wanted kept off the radar. Just like humans, she mused. Considering the Fae decried human ways and looked on them with barely restrained distaste, there were more similarities than differences between their kinds. Sometimes Bo wondered why the Fae couldn’t just see that and acknowledge how their life – how their very way of living was more human than they cared to admit.

But that wasn’t likely to happen. The Ash and his High Council, never mind The Morrigan and the Dark, were intent on focusing on the differences between humans and Fae; on perpetuating the things that kept them separate, not bound them together. The credence they gave to those ancient laws and beliefs was precisely what had brought Bo and Kenzi here. They gave rise to secrets and lies rather than eradicating them.

And I’m caught in the middle, she sighed inwardly. The worst of both worlds.

Impatient, she stepped forwards and rapped on the door again, this time a little harder. Casting a look at her companion, Bo met Kenzi’s eyes and saw the girl shrug helplessly in response, shuffling her feet on the detritus underfoot. It had been raining, which hadn’t helped their progress down the slurry-filled alleyway. Kenzi had almost slipped over twice and Bo had cursed loudly as she stepped into inky puddles underfoot, splashing dirty rainwater and god knows what else over her favorite pair of boots.

Sighing, Kenzi reached out and touched her fingers against Bo’s elbow, encased in a dark leather jacket. “Bo, I don’t think he’s gonna answer. You know,” she shrugged, “on account of him being dead.”

Bo rolled her eyes and glowered at the girl, reaching out to bang on the door again with a bunched fist. “Four Fae all dying the same way tells me that he might not have been coming here on his own,” she remarked. “Something fishy is going on, Kenz.”

“Uh huh.” Kenzi nodded, hugging her arms close around her chest, an expression of disgust twisting her lips. “I wondered what that rank smell was.”

“Really?” Bo’s eyebrows rose and she couldn’t help the faint smirk that spread across her mouth. “Considering the stack of dirty dishes at home I would have thought you’d find this place familiar.”

Kenzi opened her mouth in retort but was silenced by the sound of a bolt being slid back behind the door and the rattle of a chain. Both women caught their breath as the heavy door groaned open just enough to let a shard of light split the darkness of the alleyway with a rapier-like ray. Through the inches of the opening, a face half-appeared - a widened eye that stared at them and the curve of scarlet lips that parted in tentative enquiry. A girl in her mid-twenties stood behind the door, fingers curled around its edge tipped with the same shade of red that was on her mouth - the only slash of color on her otherwise pale features.

“Hi,” Bo said warmly, stepping forwards. As the girl behind the door flinched slightly and her gaze worried its way across the Succubus’ figure, Bo frowned. She looked… well, she looked scared.

“Who are you?” the girl asked. Her voice trembled slightly and her grip on the door increased, whitening the tips of her fingers. “What do you want?”

“It’s okay.” Bo tried to reassure the girl but as she moved closer, she saw that her presence was only serving to increase the agitation that flurried over the girl’s face. “We’re trying to find our friend, that’s all. Shay Nicholls? Do you know him?”

For a moment, it seemed as though the girl was going to relent. Certainly there was a suggestion of recognition in her eyes, but she blinked and shook her head.

“Shay’s not here.”

“Do you know where he might be… where we could find him?”

The girl’s eyes, half-hidden behind the heavy door, flickered from Bo to Kenzi and then back again. For a second, she opened her mouth as though to speak, and then closed it, red lips forming a warning line of refusal and reluctance. Stepping back from the door a little, she slid her fingers from around its edge and shook her head.

“No,” she said, pushing at the door as though to close it once more. “I don’t know anything. I can’t help you.”

Bo’s booted foot slid into the gap of light and she put her hand onto the door’s surface, shoving at it and preventing the girl behind from closing it completely. The chain rattled, keeping the door from opening fully, and squealed a little as it was pulled taut.

“Look,” Bo lowered her voice and frowned again as the girl took a gasping breath. She was scared - that much was obvious. “If you know anything about Shay… anything at all that might help us, we’d be really grateful. I don’t want to hurt you; I just need to know about Shay.”

“He’s not here!” The girl protested, her voice rising fearfully.

“But he did come here last week,” Bo said gently. The girl shook her head, trembling slightly, clearly troubled at the mere mention of Shay’s name.

“We’re not the cops or anything,” Bo added, jerking her head towards Kenzi, standing at her shoulder. “We don’t want to get you into trouble, I promise. We just need to know about Shay. As his… his friends.” She nodded in what she hoped was a convincingly concerned manner and waited for a moment as the girl appeared to mull over what she was saying.

“Cops?” The girl said suddenly with a blurt of mirthless laughter. “Like they could do anything anyway. It’s not the cops you need to be afraid of around here.”

“We’re not Fae either,” Kenzi said, moving forwards. At the girl’s dubious expression, she shrugged and jerked a thumb towards Bo. “Well, she is, but we’re not working for anyone but ourselves. And she won’t hurt you. She’s not like the others.”

Whether it was the resolute expression on Bo’s face, or the sympathetic one on Kenzi’s, the girl relented, letting out a sigh of submission and nodding abruptly. “Okay,” she said quietly, her eyes darting past the two women in the alleyway to peer into the shadows around them as though expecting a legion of assailants to emerge from the darkness.

“Okay,” she said again, fingers reaching for the chain as Bo stepped backwards and the door closed briefly before swinging open, allowing light to flood into the alley and illuminate the squalor confined there.

Standing in the lit corridor leading away from the entrance, the girl was a pathetic sight. She was thin, collarbones jutting out above a shirt that hung off her slight frame. Her hair, black and untidy, feathered out from her head and was lank in parts from lack of care. Refusing to meet their gaze, the girl stood to one side and motioned with her head for them to enter, bony fingers still gripping the door as though, were she to let go, she might fall to the ground should her emaciated frame fail to keep her standing up.

But it was her face that bore the full extent of her misery and fear: around the eye that had previously been hidden from Bo’s gaze there was a purpling bruise that yellowed onto her cheekbone and marred the pale skin of her features. For a second, Bo could only stare helplessly at it, her mouth opening in horror. The girl’s eyes glanced towards the Succubus and as their eyes met, there was a moment of tacit understanding and shame.

Then the girl looked away again, her fingers dancing towards her bruised face and pushing at her hair in an effort to hide the injury. Shrugging carelessly, she turned from Bo and Kenzi and instead directed her gaze towards the ground.

“I guess you’d better come in,” she said quietly.

Part 9

Lauren pointed at the images rotating on the large screen in the lab and watched as The Ash lifted a hand to his chin, rubbing at it pensively. She glanced at Dyson, standing nearby, and took a short breath to fortify herself. It was late – probably later than she suspected - but she had purposely not checked her watch lest the exhaustion she was barely keeping at bay should overwhelm her. Instead, she had called Dyson and The Ash to the lab in order to apprise them of her findings and the expectation in the room was palpable, sending a faint tremor through her hands as she directed all attention towards the complex set of results that she had prepared.

“The images on the left are base pairings of Fae DNA,” she said, nodding towards the screen. “They’re taken from samples we had on our database of the victims and, as you can see, the formation matches their genus. Each victim was from a different clan and order so I was initially unable to find any common factors.”

The Ash nodded and Lauren proffered a tight smile before continuing. “But the images on the right are taken from the post-mortem examination. There are a few anomalies that became evident once the DNA was sampled.”

“Anomalies?” The Ash echoed, frowning at the doctor.

Lauren nodded, pushing at her hair. “DNA can be damaged by many sorts of different mutagens such as oxidizing agents, alkylating agents and also high-energy electromagnetic radiation like ultraviolet light and X-rays. And the type of DNA damage produced depends on the type of mutagen.”

“But if you look here,” she raised a finger and pointed at the images on the right of the screen, “the DNA taken from the victims after death shows what we call double-strand breaks. Generally, these indicate some sort of toxicity within the DNA itself and cause it to unwind. It inhibits transcription and multiplication and actually encourages the DNA to mutate.”

Dyson moved for the first time since she started speaking and let out a loud, impatient breath. “And in English, that means… ?”

Lauren shrugged and let her hand drop down by her side. “It means that all these Fae died because their DNA began to mutate.”

“And why did this happen?” The Ash enquired, ignoring Dyson’s low murmur of dubious acknowledgement.

“That, I don’t know yet,” Lauren answered, dropping her gaze to the floor. “It looks like a foreign agent was introduced to the DNA at some point. But it’s barely detectable by most of our tests and certainly not visible during the process itself.”

“So you’re saying that they were poisoned by something?” Dyson glowered at the images on the screen.

“Maybe.” Lauren tilted her head onto one side and cast a cursory look over her findings. “Poisoned, or chemically altered. There’s really no way of analyzing how this happens until it does.”

“So we can’t tell who else has it until they’re lying on a slab in the morgue?” The detective’s voice rose in disbelief and his lower lip pushed out in a disgruntled manner. “That’s not going to help us stop any more of these deaths.”

“But it is a useful step in the right direction,” The Ash held up a hand to halt any more doubts that Dyson might have voiced and inclined his head towards Lauren.

“You’ve done well to identify this,” he said, narrowing his eyes at the images onscreen once more. “However, we’re going to need more if we are to find out how to arrest its development. If Light Fae are susceptible to some form of virus, then – “

“No,” Lauren interjected hurriedly, shaking her head. “I don’t think it’s a virus. The change in DNA profile is too drastic to indicate disease and preliminary tests indicate that the mutation is chemical-based, not organic.” Ducking her head in what looked like apology, she blinked under The Ash’s gaze.

“Chemical-based?” Dyson leaned forwards, squinting at the images of broken DNA. “So it was artificial and not natural?”

“Definitely not natural,” Lauren agreed, pressing her lips into a firm line. Throughout her career with the Fae, she’d seen some incredible things and discovered – and cured – diseases that simply weren’t possible in the human world. But this confounded her and had forced her to irritably conclude that even she might not be able to combat this particular threat. Nothing about it made sense. It was invisible even to her meticulous tests, apparent only in its destruction. She let out a sigh and shook her head.

“The mutative element was probably forcibly introduced to their DNA but it doesn’t show any common factors with a virus. In fact,” she added with a huff of discontent, “the blood work came back absolutely normal for their type.”

“So it’s possible that these Fae were targeted victims,” Dyson mused, folding his arms over his chest.

Lauren shrugged. “It’s possible, but I won’t know more until I’ve run some tests on the trace chemical elements we found.”

“How do we stop it?” The Ash lifted his head and looked between his doctor and detective with a tone that demanded answers. Answers that Lauren simply couldn’t give him.

“If I knew what caused it then I might be able to work up some sort of preventative treatment,” she answered quickly. “But a virus is much easier to treat than this. The chemical trace elements seem to dissipate once the body dies so we’re working with next to nothing. And there doesn’t seem to be any biological source for the mutation, which means that most of my existing treatment regimes simply wouldn’t work.”

“Let me get this right,” Dyson leaned forwards. “These Fae died because their DNA… what, unravelled?”

“Basically, yes.” Lauren nodded at the detective and took a couple of steps towards the display, pointing at the unfettered strands of DNA. “Usually mutations in DNA give new traits to any species and are a necessary part of their evolution. Take you, for example.” She pointed at the detective and he blinked, impassive.

“You have traits that have developed in shape shifters over centuries, but you still share a basic genetic code with your ancestors. It’s the same for all Fae. For humans, too. But whatever happened to our victims here almost reversed that effect.” With an expression of wonder crossing her features, Lauren stared at the image in front of her and almost smiled. “It’s really quite ingenious,” she murmured.

Dyson shrugged and let out a noise of displeasure. “Sure, if by ‘ingenious’ you really mean ‘murderous’,” he muttered.

“Well we don’t know for certain that they were murdered,” Lauren protested, holding up a hand.

“Either way,” The Ash said in a low tone, “we need to identify the element that was introduced to these Fae and isolate it. The High Council is meeting to consider sending out an edict about these deaths. The safety of our kind is a high priority for them and I simply can’t allow external forces to threaten that.” He glanced at Dyson, who nodded, and then turned his attentions towards Lauren.

“I’ll give your findings to the Council when we meet,” he said. “But we need more information on this unknown element. If, as you say, it’s a chemical factor and not viral then it must be coming from somewhere.”

“Like the Dark,” Dyson voiced what all three were thinking and heard the faint sigh of trepidation that came from the doctor. “Gotta admit,” he shrugged, “they’ve never stopped trying to gain our territory or control over the region.”

“I’ll arrange a meeting with The Morrigan,” The Ash said quietly, although his voice was rich with antagonistic intent. “Perhaps she needs to be reminded that any attack on our people will be seen as a declaration of war.”

Lauren gasped. “War?” she echoed, a worried expression working its way across her features. “I’m going to need more time to work on the source of the mutative gene. Shouldn’t we be sure of its origin before warning off the Dark? It may be affecting their population too.”

The Ash looked at her curiously for a second before blinking away his concern and shaking his head imperceptibly. “Their welfare is of little interest to me or the High Council,” he said firmly. “And if they are trying to kill members of the Light, then they need to be stopped.”

His eyes pierced through Lauren’s concerns, eliciting a humble bob of her head in response and he clasped his hands together behind his back. “Continue your research,” he ordered. “The sooner we find out what’s causing this, the sooner we can arrest its development.” He turned on his heel and made as though to leave the lab, but halted and looked back at his doctor, allowing himself to fully appreciate her apprehension.

“Perhaps the time will come for Fae to choose sides,” he mused. “If we enter into a war with the Dark, we’ll all need to show our loyalties.”

Avoiding his gaze, Lauren tried not to imagine the ways in which conflict might put her relationship with Bo in even more danger. Unaligned Fae would be at risk from both sides. Association with such a creature would be suicide. The consequences of such would be swift, dire, and would send a message to all of those in the Fae community who dared envy Bo her independence.

Nodding briefly, satisfied with his assertion, The Ash walked from the lab.

Letting out a long, slow breath, Dyson stared at Lauren and lifted a hand, rubbing thoughtfully at his chin.

“I’m guessing that comment was probably directed at you,” he said in a low tone.

Lauren glowered at him even though she knew he was right. The Ash would make no concessions to her should the Fae clans enter into war. And it seemed he was taking every opportunity to remind her of that in the interim period. Relations between the Dark and the Light had always been tenuously peaceable, to say the least, and sometimes it seemed that each community was simply waiting for an opportunity to exacerbate the enmity that existed between them. Should they lie on the brink of battle, then her relationship with Bo would be an early casualty.

And so would her heart.

“Let’s not jump the gun,” she said briskly, moving to her desk and sitting down in front of her computer. “It hasn’t come to war yet. And if I can help prevent that from happening, then I will. So should you.” She glanced up at the detective as he wandered over to where she sat and stood at her shoulder, his face crumpled in contemplation.

“None of which answers the question of what you’re going to do about Bo,” he said.

Lauren’s fingers paused on the keyboard momentarily. This was probably his way of trying to help – to remind her of the duty that they both accepted, however reluctantly at times. It would be too easy to suspect that Dyson’s concern came from a selfish place, but, once again, Lauren found herself in the unenviable position of simply being unable to discern his motives.

“What I’m going to do about Bo?” She looked up at him, mouth parting in surprise. “Dyson, I don’t control her. She makes her own decisions, you know that.”

“Isn’t that part of the problem here?” he enquired, leaning down towards her. “Come on, Lauren,” he urged, his voice softening imperceptibly. “A Fae who doesn’t belong to either side is an instant target for both of them. This could be dangerous for her.”

“It could be dangerous for all of us,” Lauren snapped.

“Look,” Dyson shook his head at her stubborn refusal to acknowledge the portents that loomed before them. “You know I don’t always agree with The Ash and his decisions, but I do align myself with the Light. And if the shit hits the fan, then you can be damned sure I’m going to be fighting on their side. If you care about Bo – “

“If I care about her?” Lauren was instantly aggrieved at the suggestion lingering between them. She lifted her head, meeting his gaze and stared at him for a few long seconds.

“I know you don’t think much of me, Dyson,” she finally said, emotion rasping her tone. “But when it comes to Bo, you shouldn’t question whether I care about her or not.”

The detective gazed back at her, hesitancy crossing his features. Finally, he sucked in a breath and let it out again slowly. He didn’t doubt Lauren’s feelings for Bo – history had dictated that the doctor would bend the rules as far as they would go in order to accommodate Bo’s wants and needs.

But he’d fought in many wars and those who refused to choose a side were always the first to fall. In as much as he respected Bo’s decision to stand alone, he knew that the fear he saw in Lauren’s eyes was well founded.

Shifting slightly, Dyson folded his arms over his broad chest and shook his head. “You can’t be her hero all the time, Doc,” he said casually, with a faint shrug. “Sooner or later she’s going to have to choose a side. So maybe it’s worth trying to make sure it’s ours.”

Part 10

The girl led Bo and Kenzi down the hallway and into a room that was no more inviting than the alley outside. Empty food cartons littered the floor and on a low table in the center of the room there was a plethora of paraphernalia that Bo viewed with a downturned mouth. She might not be an expert, but it surely didn’t take one to know that the only reason anyone would come here was to score drugs. That fact alone made her route across the room cautious, rather than nervous.

Against the wall immediately in front of them there was a tattered sofa that had clearly seen better days. To their left, a couple of large armchairs had been shoved in front of a bookcase whose shelves were piled with old newspapers, now yellowed and brittle. A door led away from the room into what Bo thought might be a kitchen, but as she squinted towards the darkened doorway, the girl moved forwards and kicked at the door, closing it and cutting off the other room from view.

Turning to the two women, the girl saw their expressions of distaste and shrugged, throwing herself into one of the armchairs and curling her feet underneath her. “Sit down if you want,” she jerked her head at the sofa and hugged her arms around her gaunt, wasted body.

Bo plucked at Kenzi’s jacket, tugging the girl along with her and they both perched tentatively on the edge of the sofa as though, were they to sink into it, they might pick up the drab and distinctly unpleasant atmosphere of the room itself. Not to mention anything else that was ingrained in the filthy cushions beneath them.

“It’s not much, but it’s home,” the girl said, a smile as thin as she was crossing her lips. “I’m Kendra, by the way,” she added. “And you’re not like most people who come here.”

“Most people?” Bo enquired, leaning forwards and resting her elbows onto her knees.

“The people who come here,” Kendra said with a shrug, unwilling to elucidate further.

Glancing at Kenzi, Bo saw concern etched through her friend’s eyes. Kenzi could have been this girl; she could have fallen prey to this sort of unforgiving existence. Not for the first time, Bo silently thanked whoever was listening that they had found one another when they did. Life for people like them – outsiders, unwanted, disenfranchised – was difficult enough without adding drugs into the mix.

“Who are the people that come here, Kendra?” Bo turned back towards the girl in the armchair and painted a warm smile onto her lips to accompany her words.

Kendra lifted a hand, waving her fingers in the air. “You know,” she said. “People. Like you,” she nodded towards Bo.

“You mean Fae?” Bo asked, receiving a laconic nod for her pains. Taking a short breath, she clasped her hands together and tried to make sense of the information in her head before speaking again.

“Fae come here to… to get high?” she asked.

Kendra observed the bemused expression on Bo’s face and appeared faintly entertained by it. But the glimmer of a smile in her eyes disappeared almost instantly and she pushed agitatedly at her hair, her gaze darting away from Bo’s and flickering around the room. “Humans aren’t the only ones who have… needs and wants,” she said quietly. “Sometimes Fae want to have a little fun too.”

“Some fun,” Kenzi muttered, and Bo nudged her leg with her knee, frowning her into silence.

“So you’re Fae too?” Bo asked, and Kendra blinked slowly, her head lolling onto one side as she surveyed the Succubus with empty eyes.

“I used to be,” she replied, her voice trailing into a sad uncertainty. Catching Bo’s confused expression, she took a breath and waved her hand in the air. “I don’t know what I am anymore,” she said. “It’s all the same anyway. Fae, human, Light, Dark. They all come here for what they can get or what they can afford. Nobody cares who or what you are here. So I guess I just… stopped caring too.”

“And now you make a living by selling drugs to Fae?” Bo was beginning to make connections in her brain that she didn’t much like. Just another way in which Fae weren’t that much different to humans. For all their bluster about protecting their identity and upholding their sacred laws, Fae weren’t immune to the sorts of base temptations that the world dangled in front of them.

“Well… duh,” Kendra rolled her eyes, picking at her shirt once more and tugging at a stray thread along the seam. “What are you, new in town?”

Shrugging again, the girl shook her head. “It’s better than what I had before. Better than nothing at all.”

Casting a cursory glance around the room, Bo wasn’t so sure that it was. This hovel was a breeding ground for those who wanted to escape their existence, not invest in it. And the more one ran from the Fae world, the more it seemed to reach out with desperate fingers to entrap those searching for freedom.

“What about Shay?” she asked gently, seeing how the mere mention of his name brought a tinge of alarm to Kendra’s features, stiffening her pose in the chair and causing her fingers to flutter over the bruise on her cheek. “Did he come here too?”

“Shay was one of my regulars,” Kendra said without thinking, and then gasped a little, realizing her mistake as Bo’s head jerked upwards.

“Was?” Bo repeated. No wonder Kendra was terrified. Perhaps the girl suspected she might be implicated in Shay’s death. Maybe even held responsible for it.

Turning her head away, Kendra frowned, shrugging wordlessly. But the corners of her mouth tugged downwards and she scrubbed at her eyes with her knuckles, sniffing loudly and hunching into an even tinier ball in the grimy confines of the couch.

“Kendra,” Bo said slowly. “Can you just… just tell us about Shay? You’ve got nothing to be frightened of. Nobody’s going to hurt you.”

A blurt of derisory laughter came from the girl and she fixed Bo with a gaze that was an odd mixture of fear and scorn. “Somebody already has, wouldn’t you say?” She waved a hand up near her face and her lips formed a hard line of one who not only recognizes their fate, but is resigned to it.

“Who did that to you?” Kenzi spoke for the first time, attracting Kendra’s attention. “Who hurt you, Kendra?”

The girl in the chair frowned, her eyes darting between Bo and Kenzi with undisguised suspicion. Again, she touched the bruise on her cheek with tentative fingers and then closed her eyes, caught in her own thoughts for a moment.

“He didn’t mean to,” she murmured, half to herself. “I’m sure of it.”

“Who didn’t?” Bo urged, but as Kendra opened her eyes she shook her head and clamped her lips tight shut.

“People are dying, Kendra. Shay is dead. And if there’s anything you can tell us… anything that might help, then – “

“I don’t know anything. The people I work for… they’re bad people. They do bad things.” Kendra’s voice was low and fearful, a warning tone heightening the tension that trembled in her lips.

“Then let us help you!” Bo insisted, throwing out a hand of pleading assurance.

“Help me?” Kendra’s eyes widened as she stared at Bo and then she began to laugh, a hard, brittle sound. “There’s no helping me,” she told them. “I do what they tell me to and they leave me alone. It’s as simple as that. If you interfered, then they’d hurt you too. So go back to your fancy lives and your safe little houses and leave me alone, okay?”

The girl withdrew before chewing at her lower lip and shaking her head. “Shay was my friend!” she blurted suddenly, voice thick with unshed tears. “He was my friend!”

“Okay, it’s okay.” Bo rose from her seat and crouched in front of the girl, torn between wanting to use her powers to assuage Kendra’s distress, and knowing that to do so would only exacerbate her malaise, in the end. She settled for gently patting Kendra’s knee with a tentative hand.

“Look,” she said gently, “we just want to know how Shay died. What happened to him. That’s all. Please, Kendra. If you know something, please tell us.”

Glancing at Kenzi, Kendra’s eyes were narrow, suspicious. It was a long moment before she looked at Bo again, taking some consolation from the encouraging smile on the Succubus’ mouth.

“Shay would come once or twice a week at first. He was… he was a nice guy. Good to me, I guess. Kind. Not like some of the others.”

“And you became friends,” Bo said, nodding.

“I guess,” Kendra said non-committally, but her face was taut and she swallowed at the memory. “But he changed. I don’t know… ” She scrubbed at her face again with her hand and sniffed loudly. “The stuff they sell… it’s not like the stuff humans use.”

“In what way?” Bo asked.

“You’re Fae,” Kendra jerked her head at Bo with a look of bare resentment on her face. “You should know.”

“I’m not Fae,” Kenzi’s voice came from across the room. “I’m just a dumb human.”

She shrugged and smiled helplessly as Bo shot her a look of gratitude. “Why don’t you explain it to me?”

Kendra shook her head almost wonderingly and pursed her lips, but had the good sense not to offer criticism. Instead, she pushed at her hair again and twisted slightly in the chair.

“We live next to the human world, but separate from it,” she began quietly. “Human drugs don’t really have that much effect on some Fae. Everything’s different for Fae.”

“Look,” she lifted her chin defensively. “I didn’t force Shay to do anything. He came here, you know? He knew what he was getting into. Trying new things… he wanted to… to escape. Just for a little while.”

“So it was a drug that killed him?”

Kendra shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know. He started to get… he got mean.” Her lips formed a firm line and she frowned. “Just like every other junkie,” she added in a sad whisper.

“When was the last time you saw him?” Bo asked.

“Last week. He came by late one night and when I asked him to stay, he uh… ” Kendra’s fingers crept up to her face again and she shook her head.

“Wait.” Bo leaned in, peering up into Kendra’s face. “He did this to your face? He hit you?”

“He got mad. I shouldn’t have – I shouldn’t have pestered him. I made him mad and he – “

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Bo’s voice was hard and her jaw clenched as she watched Kendra’s face work around a myriad of confusing emotions. Dyson had once criticized the violence that humans showed towards one another, but Bo had seen that Fae were just as bad – sometimes worse.

“Your suppliers,” she said suddenly. “Who are they?”

Kendra shut her mouth and shook her head resolutely, silently.

“Kendra, if the drugs you sold Shay killed him, then everyone else who comes here is in danger. We need to find out – “

“No. You need to stop asking questions. They’ll hurt you if they find out.” Kendra turned to Bo, reaching out and grasping at the Succubus’ wrist. “I don’t know anything. They bring it here, I sell it and they leave me alone.” She repeated her mantra; the cold comfort she wrapped around herself. But it sounded as hollow as the promises she’d heard from almost everyone she’d ever known.

“Listen, Kendra,” Bo leaned forwards again, “I have some contacts in the Light. Once they find out what’s going on, they’ll be able to keep you safe and – “

“The Light?” Kendra’s tone dripped scornfully over the words, her lip curling in distaste. “The Light know this happens. They like to pretend that it doesn’t, but they know. And there’s nothing they can do about it because they don’t want to. They don’t care about people like me so they just pretend I don’t exist. And I don’t. Not to them, anyway. Not until they need something from me.”

Looking at Bo carefully, Kendra bit at her lower lip and took a breath before speaking. “You should just leave it alone,” she said in a warning tone. “Just leave it alone.”

Bo looked at Kenzi and then her gaze swung back to fix upon Kendra’s face – the lonely, lost face of one who doesn’t belong anywhere, or to anyone. And a strange feeling burgeoned in her chest; the feeling of loss one has when all has been taken from them. For all that she’d found in recent months, Bo knew that her identity as a Fae was one of the most important. And if she didn’t have that, then she might end up like Kendra, too. Ignoring this vicious cycle that the girl had fallen into would only compound that, she was sure.

So as her face hardened into lines of determination, Bo tried to ignore Kendra’s warnings or the ominous unknown that gave no answers to her questions.

“I can’t,” she said firmly. “I just can’t, Kendra.”

Part 11

“Dude,” Kenzi sighed and leaned forwards, laying her head on the edge of the bar. “Get me a drink, like, yesterday.”

From behind the bar, Trick threw her a quizzical look and then glanced at Bo, standing beside the girl.

“Rough day?” he enquired with a faint smile.

Bo rolled her eyes and let out a long stream of air in a disconsolate sigh. “Something like that,” she murmured. “Whatever Kenzi’s having, make it two, would you?”

Nodding, Trick turned back to Kenzi, who lifted her hand and pointed sightlessly at the array of bottles behind him. “Get me something strong,” she mumbled, head still buried in the crook of her arm on the bar. “Something strong enough to make me forget the complicated lives you people lead.”

Grabbing a bottle of Buckthorn mead from the shelf and pouring it into two shot glasses, Trick couldn’t help the moue of reprove that pursed his lips. “Complicated lives aren’t solely related to Fae, Kenzi,” he said sternly. “Personally, I find humans to be endlessly confusing. And we’re not people, if you hadn’t already noticed.”

Lifting her head from the bar, Kenzi inched the glass towards her lips and then lifted it, tossing the contents down her throat and letting out a sigh of pleasure, smacking her lips. “People or not,” she said as Bo sipped at her drink, “you guys get stuck in the same shit as we do.”

Trick turned a confused gaze onto Bo, who shook her head and pushed at Kenzi’s shoulder companionably.

“Trick, what do you know about Fae drugs?” she asked, lowering her voice and glancing around the bar.

The bartender paused, his eyes sliding down the length of the bar as he moved closer to the Succubus. Leaning onto the counter, he eyed her suspiciously. “That they’re dangerous and I don’t sell them, if that’s what you’re asking,” he said in a grim tone.

“Please,” Bo’s eyebrows rose incredulously. “I’m impulsive, Trick. I’m not stupid.”

As Trick refilled her glass, Bo shook her head, trying to dispel images of Kendra and her wasteful, empty life. It hadn’t been quite the lead in their investigation that she’d anticipated, nor wanted. If anything, it made the whole case just that much more confusing.

“Turns out our dead Fae were users,” she told the bartender, nodding thanks as she slid her fingers around her glass once more. “But what they were using, I don’t know. And the contact we talked with was too scared to tell us anything else.”

“Hm.” Trick nodded and folded his arms over his chest. “I’m not altogether surprised. The Fae drug trade has always been rather secretive. They operate under the radar as much as they can.”

“And now four Fae are dead. You think they OD’d?” Kenzi reached for the bottle of Buckthorn and received a stern glare from Trick for her pains. Sighing, she slumped in her seat again and instead held out her glass which the bartender filled with a faint look of recrimination.

“Autopsies say no.” Bo was downcast and frowned at Trick. “Unless the drugs were undetectable or something.”

“It’s possible,” Trick mused, putting the cork back into the neck of the bottle. “Fae drugs aren’t really like human narcotics at all.”

As the two women opposite turned enquiring looks onto him, he drew in a short breath and met Bo’s eyes. “Human drugs are created from chemicals or plants,” he explained. “Fae drugs often contain… other elements.”

“Fairy dust? Unicorn horn?” Kenzi suggested, eliciting an indulgent sigh from the bartender. “What?” she turned to Bo. “It could happen!”

Ignoring her, Bo jerked her chin towards Trick. “What do you mean by ‘other elements’?”

“Mystical elements. Things that humans can’t even conceive of,” Trick told her. “Most Fae who indulge want to be someone else. Something else.”

“Hate to tell you this, Trickster, but it’s exactly the same for humans,” Kenzi remarked, swigging at her drink.

“Not quite,” Trick smiled. “Some Fae drugs don’t just change perception or consciousness. They can change… everything. Or, at least,” he shrugged, “that’s what happened in the old times. But the Fae authorities put a stop to most mystical drugs. They were considered too harmful to our community. Too unreliable.” His face worked around an expression that Bo couldn’t quite read for a second before he nodded and stood up straight behind the bar.

“What do you mean?” Bo was intrigued and glanced at Kenzi, seeing a similar interest light upon the girl’s features.

Trick shook his head. “Mystical elements are very hard to control. Their effects can be… ” He trailed off and appeared troubled for a moment. “They can be unpredictable,” he finally said.

“Unpredictable?” Bo frowned. “Meaning?”

“Meaning,” Trick refilled the glasses in front of him and looked at Bo gravely, “that they’re very dangerous. And the people who create them? Even more so.”

He nodded at the women before moving away down the bar, leaving Kenzi to turn on Bo, wide-eyed and not a little fearful.

“No wonder Kendra was terrified,” she murmured. “Seriously, Bo, please don’t tell me we ever have to go back to that place again.”

Bo reached out and put her hand onto Kenzi’s arm, squeezing gently. “You don’t ever have to go back to that place again,” she said warmly. “I’m sorry if it upset you, Kenz.”

“It didn’t.” Kenzi’s rebuttal was sharp and she blinked, looking away from Bo and toying with the now empty glass in front of her. “I just hated seeing her that way,” she said quietly.

“Drugs or no drugs, that guy beat her up for no good reason,” she continued, her eyes wide with painfully vivid memories. “I’ve seen enough of that crap in the human world, so I sure as shit don’t wanna see it in the Fae one.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Bo said, rubbing at the girl’s shoulder. Trick approached, refilling Kenzi’s glass. He gestured with the bottle towards Bo, but she placed her palm over her empty glass. She needed to keep a clear head tonight if she was going to pursue the scattered lines of this investigation. Nothing about it made sense. They might have uncovered the connection between Shay Nicholls and Kendra’s dubious merchandise, but if he’d died from an overdose then surely Lauren would have discovered that in her autopsy.

“We will figure it out,” she said again, but was uncertain as to whether it was to convince herself, or the girl sitting beside her.

Kenzi let out a dubious grunt of agreement and curled her fingers around her glass. “Can’t you get your girlfriend with the huge brain to figure it out? You know,” she eyed Bo mischievously, “if you can let her out of bed long enough. Girl’s looking tired these days.”

Bo puffed out her cheeks, letting a long sigh trickle from between her lips. Spinning around on her chair, she leaned her elbows onto the bar and shook her head. “She is tired,” she agreed. “I guess we’re still… working on that whole thing.”

“You and your hungry Succubus suckage, you mean?”

“I might not have put it quite like that,” Bo wrinkled her nose. “But I guess so, yeah.”

Kenzi let go of her drink, turning and surveying the crowd filling the bar. “Plenty of sexytimes energy to go around in here though,” she said, glancing sideways at Bo.

But the Succubus frowned, screwing her face into an expression of doubt. “It feels weird even thinking about it,” she murmured, her gaze lighting on several prospective attractions and sending a sliver of guilt into her chest.

“But you do think about it.”

“Trying not to,” Bo glared at Kenzi.

“What about him?” Kenzi pointed off into the sea of bodies at the far side of the bar, singling out a handsome male Fae who looked over at them and smiled engagingly, lifting his glass in a silent tribute.

“Ew, no.” Bo stared at her friend, a look of distaste crossing her features as Kenzi swung around in her chair and opened her mouth in a silent enquiry.

“Major self-love going on there,” Bo explained, shaking her head.

Kenzi rolled her eyes. “Nobody’s asking you to marry him. Just… y’know… ” She shrugged. “Taste his essence.” She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively and stifled a giggle as the Succubus made a gagging noise.

Bo shoved at Kenzi’s shoulder. “Not helping,” she glared with a pointed look.

Shrugging, Kenzi tilted her head onto one side. “I dunno, Bo. You need to just suck it up and get out there and feed. No pun intended,” she nodded gravely. As Bo opened her mouth to retort, Kenzi held up a finger.

“You need to be healthy. And you need Lauren to be healthy otherwise Dr HotPants will be fainting over Fae corpses instead of figuring out what killed them.” Waving her hand in the air, Kenzi grimaced a little and her lip curled. “Don’t get me wrong, she’s not my favorite person in the world, but right now she’s giving you everything she’s got.”

Heaving another huge sigh, Bo’s head dropped onto her chest. “I know, I know.”

Kenzi turned back to her drink, placing her elbows onto the bar and gazing down at the polished surface. Bo lived a very complicated life – one that she had been drawn into and even cared about now. Which kind of infuriated her, if she were honest.

Almost as much as defending Lauren’s welfare did.

She pursed her lips. She might not like Lauren much, but Bo did. And in the end, that was really all that mattered to Kenzi.

Glancing down the length of the bar, she blinked. “Speaking of HotPants,” Kenzi said, nudging Bo in the ribs with an elbow. “I thought you said she was working at the lab tonight.”

“She is, why do you – oh.” Following Kenzi’s outstretched finger, Bo caught a glimpse of long, blonde hair through the milling figures at the bar and squinted between them for a moment.

A smile flared briefly on her lips until the woman turned around and Bo saw that it wasn’t Lauren. She glowered at the disappointment that surged in her chest, irritated at being stuck midway between hating it and loving it. The woman at the end of the bar was beautiful and slender, like Lauren. She even had similar features – the shape of her face, the slope of her chin and brow. But Bo knew that the only Lauren worth having was the real thing. And, as Kenzi had pointed out, it was the ‘having’ that was becoming a problem.

It wasn’t until she blinked that she realized she’d been staring. And the object of her disappointment was staring right back.

The woman met Bo’s eyes and smiled, full lips curving upwards in a manner that was both sensual and detached at the same time. It was evocative. And almost definitely an invitation.

Bo broke eye contact first, turning away and feeling heat flood her cheeks. But it wasn’t embarrassment that trickled warmth through her veins. It was hunger. Hunger and the arousal that precipitated a feed. She’d tried… tried so hard not to want it so much; not to indulge the swarming morass of longing that buzzed at the back of her brain. And she’d been successful so far; in fact, until tonight, Bo had almost forgotten the innate, raw appetite of her kind.

Clenching her teeth, Bo lifted her head and waved at Trick with her empty glass. Alcohol would help. Lots and lots of alcohol. Anything to dull her senses.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Kenzi’s curious gaze roaming her features. She shifted self-consciously and watched Trick fill her glass. “What?” she demanded, as Kenzi let out a blurt of laughter and rolled her eyes.

“You like her,” the girl gestured back down the bar. “Trick,” she said, leaning up over the bar. “That woman, the one who looks like Dr Freeze – uh… Lauren. Who is she?”

Glancing at the blonde, Trick frowned. “Hisomu? She’s an Oni,” he told them, his gaze flitting over Bo’s interested expression, trying to discern what he saw there.

“An… ?”

“Oni,” he said again. “Descended from a Royal family. She’s beautiful, but she’s got a hell of a temper. She’s been known to cause disasters if roused.”

“Great,” Kenzi muttered. “Someone else who kicks the ass out of everyone else. Seriously, are all Fae naturally testy?”

“Very funny,” Trick remarked with a mock look of reprove. “But the last time Hisomu got really mad was in California. In 1994.”

“Shit,” Bo breathed. “She caused that earthquake?”

Letting out a short laugh, Trick shrugged enigmatically. “So they say. But these days the only thing she causes are hearts to flutter. Isn’t that right?” He quirked an eyebrow at Bo, who glowered at him and pursed her lips in forced denial. “I can ask her over if you’d like,” he offered, but Bo shook her head.

“No, don’t.” Bo’s voice was firm, but even as she shook her head, she reached out and grabbed her glass. Throwing the contents down her throat, she knew what she was going to do even before she moved. Even before she had the thought fully formed in her head. She looked at Kenzi, and then at Trick. And her lips curved into a perfect smile.

“I don’t need your help.”

Bo pushed herself away from the bar and sauntered down its length, weaving in and out of the bodies in her way as though they didn’t exist at all. Reaching the right-angled corner of the bar, she leaned on it, watching as Hisomu finished her drink, delicately placing her empty glass on the wooden surface.

From a distance, she bore a passing resemblance to Lauren. But up close, Bo’s gaze narrowed somewhat as she tried to recall what it had been about Hisomu that reminded her of the doctor. Because Lauren’s features were drawn in lines that Bo had traced over and over in her mind. They were etched into her memory; the curves and shapes and shadows of Lauren’s smile thickening her throat with momentary guilt.

And this woman? This woman didn’t look like Lauren at all. But she looked enough like her to allow preternatural need to outweigh any skewed notion of fidelity that Bo might have created for herself. Bo moved closer to Hisomu, an involuntary want filling her chest and crawling into her throat to overwhelm guilt.

Without even thinking, Bo placed her hand on Hisomu’s wrist and allowed seduction to trickle from her fingertips onto the Fae’s skin, and seduction to take hold.

The smile that spread across the Oni’s lips was encouragement enough. And as she turned to look at the Succubus, Bo noticed the glimmer in the Fae’s eyes, warming her features and radiating down over pale skin. Desire, hunger, need… it all became one as Bo’s fingers closed over Hisomu’s wrist, feeling a pulse beat wildly under her touch.

“Hi,” the Succubus said. “I’m Bo. Can I buy you a drink?”

Part 12

“Lauren? Are you awake?”

Bo’s voice reached the doctor long before the Succubus burst into the bedroom, having clattered her way down the hall after banging the front door so hard Lauren could have sworn the entire house shook.

Sliding her notebook from her lap, Lauren placed it onto the bedside table and snapped the lid shut. “With the noise you’re making? You could wake the dead,” she remarked dryly. “But yes, I’m awake. Just going over my database for the – “

She stopped abruptly, her gaze resting on the Succubus’ face. Catching her breath, Lauren swallowed audibly. Realization came first, comprehension trailed in its wake. Bo was agitated, shifting from foot to foot, clenching and unclenching her fists. But more than that, the Succubus’ eyes were wide, gleaming with an iridescence that Lauren recognized. She gulped over the sudden constriction in her throat, the jagged pain in her lungs. Averting her eyes, she stared down at the bedclothes so Bo couldn’t see the tears that sprang traitorously to her eyes.

“Oh. I see you’ve followed doctor’s orders,” she said quietly, picking at the coverlet.

“What?” Bo skittered forwards a couple of paces before turning and striding across the room towards the window, distracted.

“You’ve been feeding.”

“How did you… ?” Bo half-turned, mouth open in surprise.

“Your eyes, Bo.”

Gazing out into the silent street beyond the house, Bo’s fingers darted to her face, trailing around her eyes as though she could feel the energy there. She could certainly feel it everywhere else, racing around her body and humming into her brain. If she didn’t know any better, she might have thought she was under the effects of drugs like the ones Kendra sold, and herself an addict to the empowering sensations hastening through her body.

But she did know better. She knew that the taste of Fae energy was almost intoxicating. It dizzied her senses and indulged her compulsions. She felt strong and vital, alive in a way she couldn’t quite describe. Every nerve ending buzzed with cogent fervency and the half-forgotten intensity that feeding offered. She had needed this. Her body had needed this.

So Bo had justified feeding the moment that her hunger became too great to ignore. Even as her lips had whispered over Hisomu’s, golden hair snaking through her fingers, Bo had justified it.

There was absolutely nothing to feel guilty over. The Oni had been more than willing to allow Bo to take greedily, pressed up against her in the alley outside The Dal.

And yet she had wrested herself from Hisomu’s embrace with hurried apologies and fled towards comfort. Towards this house. Towards Lauren. And it was indeed guilt that followed, nipping at her heels and making her stumble.

Bo shifted slightly under Lauren’s watchful eyes. “It was… I mean, I was at Trick’s and there was this… I couldn’t… ” Her voice trailed away as she paused, trying to extricate what lay behind Lauren’s expression. Bo had seen that look before: the polite, detached manners that the doctor employed when she shielded herself; when she wanted to hide her emotions or any other vulnerability Lauren deemed a weakness. An acid wave of irritation washed through Bo’s chest and she clenched her teeth together, a muscle ticking in her jaw.

“You said I should.” She lifted her chin defiantly, an unspoken challenge.

“Right – no – I mean, yes. I did.” Lauren nodded, lips curving into a tight smile. “Absolutely.”

Bo scowled, troubled by the absence of care in the doctor’s face. The absence of an expected jealousy or hurt or anything that might exonerate the pangs of guilt that pricked at her own conscience.

“I fed, Lauren. From someone else.”

Lauren shrugged and inclined her head indulgently. “That’s generally how it works, Bo.”

“Someone who looks like you, actually.” Bo knew it was churlish, but a distant panic was beginning to build in the back of her brain. For all the reasons she’d resisted feeding until tonight, the most prevalent had been how it might hurt Lauren; how it might tarnish what they had. As she stared at the doctor, Bo was horrified by the polite smile that slid like a veil over Lauren’s features. It looked like she didn’t much mind at all

“I see.” Lauren nodded and shrugged. “Well that’s very flattering, but unnecessary.”

Marching towards the bed, Bo threw herself onto it and peered into the doctor’s face. Lauren flinched a little, her lips twitching and betraying her instinct to run from this. From Bo herself.

“Is that all you’re going to say?” Bo demanded. Chewing at her lower lip, she heard her own breath as it slid over her lips, ragged and hard. But desperation demanded appeasement; her guilty heart required pacifying.

Lauren could see how the Succubus was trembling; eyes still bearing traces of potency that the doctor knew must be careering uncontrollably through Bo’s system to flood her organs with imbued strength – with life itself. And the part of herself that she had carefully cultivated and nurtured under The Ash’s tutelage simply had to be the greater – and better – part right now.

Besides, she’d known that this would happen. Sooner or later, the inevitability of Bo’s true nature would triumph over her assertions of monogamy – or, at least, what she perceived as monogamy. Her heart might be aching, but Lauren had at least anticipated this.

What she hadn’t anticipated, however, was how much it would hurt. And how much it did, right now.

But then, some hurt was always going to be necessary when it came to Bo. She’d anticipated that, too. “How do you feel?” she asked, reaching out to slide her fingers up Bo’s throat and press into the hollows under her ears. “Mm. Your pulse is a little fast.”

“Stop it!” Bo gasped, slapping Lauren’s hands away from her skin. “Stop doing that. I’m not your patient, Lauren.” She sounded almost disgusted at the mere suggestion.

“Bo, this is the first time you’ve fed from a Fae in God knows how long. You’re bound to be feeling some side effects.” Lauren’s voice was a calm monotone.

“Side effects?” Bo echoed, her head jerking back on her neck. She gazed at Lauren incredulously, her throat suddenly aching with frustrated tears. “Are you serious?”

“About you? Always,” Lauren countered. “Now,” her voice assumed a tone that Bo had heard a multitude of times in the lab with patients. “How do you feel?”

“Great,” Bo snapped. “I feel amazing. Never better.”

Lauren pursed her lips and gave Bo another polite smile. But her head dropped onto her chest and she heaved a long, heavy sigh.

“Don’t you care?” Bo leaned forwards, trying to peer into Lauren’s face. The panic that had so far been kept at bay flourished, growing like a weed inside her chest, smothering all reason.

“Of course I care,” Lauren replied in a clipped tone. “I want you to be healthy.” She hated how her voice sounded – so impersonal, so cold. The detached persona she’d created to protect herself. And she needed that protection more than ever right now, however much her mind screamed otherwise.

A thunderous expression crept across the lines of Bo’s face, darkening her eyes and placing two bright spots of red high up on her cheekbones. She clenched her hand into a fist again, feeling her fingernails dig into her palm. The pain felt good. She pressed harder, nails sinking into her flesh just a little bit deeper.

“That’s not what I mean,” she growled.

“I know.” Lauren held up a hand but the argument was already winding around them, inching tension across their faces. “But goading me into a reaction or an argument just because that’s what you want isn’t going to help, Bo.”

Perhaps it was the air that Lauren assumed – professional, aloof, distant. Or perhaps it was the incongruity of that demeanor with the rumpled bedclothes of what Bo had come to view as their sanctuary: a place where none of this should matter; a place where none of this had for an all too short honeymoon from their world. Scrambling backwards off the bed, Bo felt nauseous and clamped a hand over her mouth. She stumbled on the bedroom floor, shins bumping up against the edge of the bed.

“You want to know how I feel? I feel… ” she said in a strangled tone, “like shit, Lauren.” A mirthless laugh fell from her lips as she half-turned and threw her hands up in the air. “This is stupid. I shouldn’t have come here.”

“Then why did you?”

The words were out of Lauren’s mouth before she had the presence of mind to stop them. Bo spun around, fixing a burning gaze on the doctor, hands bunched into fists once more. It was anger that fired her now, and it was anger that she saw too, in Lauren’s shadowed eyes for a fleeting moment.

“Because I fed from someone tonight and it made me feel good. Actually,” Bo shrugged, “it made me feel incredible. Strong and… and alive.” She glanced at Lauren who remained impassive, sitting with back rigid and hands clasped together in her lap.

“And the only thing I could think about was how wrong that is,” Bo said, her voice breaking. She pressed her lips together and swallowed hard. “I shouldn’t like it. I shouldn’t… shouldn’t want it.”

“But you need it, Bo.” Lauren was gentle now, softening in light of the stricken expression on the Succubus’ face. She moved forwards, reaching out her hand. “You do,” she nodded. “You need it.”

Bo opened her mouth to protest, but was met with the quiet calm that always soothed her. Her emotions were often a torrent that threatened to overwhelm her, dragging her under into their blackened depths. But Lauren was always the shore to which she drifted, the solid ground underneath her feet. So she took Lauren’s hand and sank onto the bed lest the riptide carry her away.

“I need you,” she said in a small voice. “I want you.”

“We talked about this.” Lauren’s thumb tracked a slow path over the back of Bo’s hand. “You have to try and separate your feelings from the act itself.”

“Like you do?” Bo was sullen, turning accusatory eyes onto the doctor’s face.

Lauren smiled, letting out a tiny huff of laughter. She’d always excelled, ever since her schooldays. Success was fleeting and complacency deceitful. So she’d always worked twice as hard as anyone else, especially to create an emotionless exterior that she hid behind when her own feelings threatened to fragment sense. She couldn’t help wondering if, in doing that, she might have eradicated any real capacity to be loved at all.

It would only take a second to tell Bo how she felt. How her chest was aching and her mind was filled with images that tormented her and would continue to do so. She could say all of this so easily, the words had been whirling around her head for so long that she could have practically recited them by rote, anyway. Caution stilled her tongue, gave her pause and reason enough to hesitate. Confession might be what Bo desired, but to give full vent to the fears she carried with her every day would be unwise. Dangerous, even.

Swallowing, Lauren looked down at their joined hands and nodded to herself. Bo needed to be strong, especially if the animosity between the Light and the Dark amounted to anything. And if Bo needed to be strong, then Lauren had to be, for both their sakes.

“It’s not that I don’t care,” she said hesitantly, glancing up at Bo. “But you’re a Succubus. It’s how you survive. I can give you all the treatments I know, but there’s no substitute for doing what your kind were created to do.” The sound of her own voice almost made Lauren laugh out loud. These were the facts she told herself to assuage the creeping dread in her belly.

“It just… ” Bo shook her head and took a short breath. “It doesn’t feel right. To like it, I mean. I love you. And it doesn’t feel right.”

“It will.”

It wasn’t what Bo really wanted to hear. Nor was it the advice Lauren really wanted to give. But it was all they had. And it wasn’t nearly enough.

“Just because I’m not flying into a jealous rage doesn’t mean I don’t care about you,” Lauren said quietly.

“Doesn’t it?” Bo snatched her hand away.

For the first time in her life, Lauren willingly accepted being a failure. She couldn’t sustain Bo. She couldn’t give the Succubus what she needed, long term. And she couldn’t stop loving her, either. It was one thing to pretend that Bo’s imperative to feed didn’t bother her, but quite another to allow Bo to think she was unloved, unwanted.

White-hot anger flared in her chest and trembled her fingers as she curled them around Bo’s neck, forcing the Succubus to look at her. When the armor she wore daily was stripped away, Lauren realized she was just like everyone else in the world – quite undone by the tacit simplicity and intensity of love.

“Don’t you understand?” Lauren rasped as Bo blinked at her, silent and surprised. “I don’t get to care because you have to feed. You have to so that you’re healthy. So that you’re strong. So that you’re here.” She shook Bo roughly; half-hoping it might rattle some sense into her.

“I cannot lose you,” she continued, her words punctuated by a hitching breath. “So I don’t get to care. And it’s not because I don’t love you. It’s because I do. Don’t you see that?”

Bo’s hand was quick and strong. She clutched at Lauren, a frenzied desire rushing through them both as they grabbed at one another. When their lips met, it was heated and desperate, teeth clashing and lips inflamed. Bo’s mouth moved along Lauren’s jaw, dropping feverish kisses onto skin that burned with their wet heat.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her lips roaming Lauren’s face, kissing her eyes and coming away wet. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry.” By the time she found Lauren’s mouth with her own, the shame that she’d kept at bay rose in her throat and almost choked her.

She felt Lauren’s hands on her face again, thumbs brushing away the tears that were slipping down her cheeks. She heard Lauren make soothing noises, low and soft. And by the time arms slid around her and pulled her into an embrace, Bo broke down and sobbed openly. She cried for the guilt that would not subside, for the weakness of her nature and for the woman holding her.

Part 13

Lauren’s head was on Bo’s shoulder, her face buried in the crook of Bo’s neck. She had become small, vulnerable in the wake of their lovemaking. After the trembling in her body had dwindled to a faint hum that danced like electricity across her skin, she had curled up in the Succubus’ embrace and now lay there, still and sated. For a few quiet moments, Lauren had been content to press her face against Bo’s skin, inhaling the musky delirium that glistened and gathered in the curve of a neck, the rise of a clavicle.

Bo’s arm around her was strong, curving protectively around her back, fingers settling in the dip of her waist. Lauren breathed, allowing herself to feel safe. It was a curious feeling that spread from her chest out into every part of her. Like walking into the sunshine and letting it touch the skin, blessing it with each kiss of light and life. And she had spent so many years under the cloud of fear that sometimes it felt as though all she could do was to stand still and lose herself in that light.

But the dangers that threatened Bo rendered contentment fleeting, unsubstantial in the cold light of day. And Lauren knew that the world that she and Bo occupied was a bleaker landscape than she cared to admit.

Somehow, that only made her want these precious minutes even more.

Bo’s leg, underneath her own, twitched and the Succubus pulled in a long, thoughtful breath.

“I’m going to have to feed again, aren’t I?” she asked.

For a second, Lauren said nothing. Then, lifting her head, she propped herself up on one elbow, surveying Bo’s features with a pensive gaze.

“When you need to, yes,” she nodded. Hostility and resentment flooded Bo’s features and Lauren let out a faint noise of empathy.

“If there was any other way, believe me, I would have found it by now,” she said.

Bo frowned. “You’ve been looking?”

Lauren shifted slightly in the bed, making herself more comfortable and resting her head onto her hand. She hadn’t just looked, she had plundered the Light Fae library for information on Succubae. The reason she hadn’t told Bo about it was staring her in the face right now – the same disappointment that Lauren felt deep in her gut when all the trails she’d followed had led to dead ends.

“The Light Fae have some ancient texts that I thought might complement my scientific research in the lab, so – “

“Ancient texts?” Bo’s nose wrinkled and she reached up, playing with the strands of blonde that covered Lauren’s shoulder. “That sounds boring.”

“You’d be surprised,” Lauren intoned with a faint smile. “I stumbled across some pretty descriptive accounts of Succubae activities.”

Bo’s eyebrows shot up towards her hairline. “Like… dirty stories?”

“I said ‘descriptive’,” Lauren frowned good-naturedly. “Your kind are unique, Bo. Of all the species of Fae that have ever existed, Succubae evolved to feed off the energy of other beings. As long as the world is populated, Succubae will survive. And it’s become part of your nature – that desire to stay alive. It’s really quite beautiful.”

“Huh,” Bo grunted, tugging on Lauren’s hair like an impish child. “Tell that to all the people I’ve killed over the years.” Her voice was lighthearted, but it was quite at odds with the pained expression in her eyes. Another flood of guilt to ache over, another rush of shame to add to the burden she already carried.

Leaning down, Lauren brushed her lips over Bo’s, catching the Succubus quite unawares and bringing a broken sigh from her throat. Lifting her head, she indulged in the curves of Bo’s face, the inky pitch of her eyes, the reddened swell of her lips.

“My god,” she murmured. “You really are beautiful.”

Bo’s hand splayed out on her back, fingertips thrumming a rhythm of intent. “You know that flattery will get you pretty much anywhere with me, right?”

Lauren let out a hum of amusement, pursing her lips. “I’m sure I’m not the only one who tells you that, Bo.”

Bo frowned, tiny lines burrowing between her brow for a moment. It wasn’t the same when other people did it. Lauren wasn’t the sort of person prone to idle flattery, nor was she foolish enough to think that it might help her get what she wanted. When Lauren told her she was beautiful, Bo believed her. Even if it was just for a moment, Bo believed her. Because nobody knew her like Lauren did. Nobody had ever wanted to.

“I don’t feel beautiful,” Bo said in a small voice, glancing away from Lauren’s inquisitive brown gaze. “I hurt you tonight, didn’t I?”

Drawing in a long breath, Lauren considered the notion. Hurt was such a relative term when it came to her relationship with Bo. She’d sacrificed the simple idea of not being hurt because her life wasn’t comparable with anyone else she’d ever met; certainly not most humans and definitely not most Fae. She’d sacrificed her own sense of safety and calm in order to have the one, dangerous, exhilarating thing that made her feel alive. And when it came to the bottom line, Lauren was aware that she would make the same choices again, if necessary. And the same sacrifices.

As Bo’s gaze roamed her face, Lauren smiled sadly. “It’s not like I didn’t know what I was getting into,” she said by means of explanation.

“Yeah, well that doesn’t make it any better,” Bo grumbled.

Lauren thought for a moment, wondering if the secrets of her heart should be exposed, or if she should hide them away just like she always had done. Safety, after all, came in many guises. Withholding was just another form of protection, wasn’t it?

But she could tell from the shadows of Bo’s gaze that the Succubus needed something… anything to assuage the guilt that furrowed her brow and lined the planes of her face. And Lauren’s desire to smooth them away quite overwhelmed any sense of self-preservation that she might have had.

“I’m selfish,” she said suddenly, bringing an expression of surprised confusion to Bo’s face.

“Selfish?” Bo echoed. “Selfish how?”

“Because being with you… ” Lauren paused, a chill of vulnerability raking her spine and making her shift and pull at the bedclothes, tugging them up around her. “Being with you is more important than anything. I want it more than anything. So if you have to feed, then that’s what you have to do. And I accept that if I want you in my life.”

Bo stared at her and Lauren shrugged helplessly. It was a ridiculous, foolhardy way to exist and Lauren had cursed herself for wanting it more often than not. But still, she persisted. Still the wanting persisted. So she had resigned herself to the fact that it wasn’t going away and steeled herself for the inevitable consequences.

“That’s a shitty way to live,” Bo announced. “You shouldn’t have to – “

“But I do, and that’s that.”

“Lauren – “

“I need you, Bo.” Lauren’s voice was low and filled with a barely restrained emotion that flickered briefly in her eyes. “I need you,” she repeated. “If anything happened to you… ”

“Hey.” Bo’s hand swathed a line of comfort across Lauren’s back. “It won’t.”

“It’s dangerous out there for you. You’re unaligned and in a relationship with a human. It’s… it’s… ”

“It’s amazing,” Bo said firmly. She pulled Lauren down until the doctor’s head rested on her shoulder once more, until the encircling arm around the other woman was in place like a swathe of protection they could almost believe in. Bo felt strong, almost invincible. And even if part of that was entwined with the after-effects of a feed, Bo was sure that the love Lauren gave so freely and without condition was the greater part of that feeling.

She turned her head and pressed her lips against Lauren’s hair. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. And she was. Honestly and truly, regrettably sorry.

Lauren’s hand crept across Bo’s stomach, fluttering fingers curling around the Succubus’ waist. “Don’t ever apologize for being who you are,” she murmured, the onset of sleep thickening her voice. “I get this part of you. Nobody else does. That’s what’s amazing.”

Her breathing slowed as she tried – and failed – to fight the creeping exhaustion that crept over her body and mind like a winter fog. Closing her eyes, Lauren tried to remember that this was important. Not the wild, unrestrained passions that whipped through her, but these quiet moments that embraced her heart and almost quelled the doubts that taunted her. This was what was important. When they shut the world out and indulged in each other, nothing else mattered at all.

Bo lay with her eyes wide open, staring into the darkness of the room. All that she held dear rested against her and was contained in the crook of her arm. But she felt as though she was hanging on for dear life; grasping wildly at straws like a drowning man. Wanting love had driven her to allow mistakes to enslave her. But having love and feeling a desperate need to preserve it was driving her almost to distraction. The sacrifices Lauren made – and was making – sat heavily on her conscience. And she couldn’t help surmising that, even if she was deserving of this, then surely the creeping darkness inside her would destroy it in the end. Because that’s what she did; that was the truer part of her nature, surely: a destructive longing that not even her indomitable will could combat.

It was a long time before she finally drifted into a troubled sleep that night. A long time before she gave herself over to splintered dreams of a life less ordinary and a heart consumed with blackness. Because she felt that she had failed Lauren. But most of all, she felt as though she had failed herself and that, she knew, was the greatest tragedy of all.

Part 14

The Ash never took his eyes off Bo all throughout her halting explanation of the discoveries she’d made in her investigation. He listened intently to her descriptions of Kendra, the drugs den she and Kenzi had visited and the link between all the Light Fae victims. By the time she finished, he had an inscrutable expression on his face that gave nothing away other than the stern exterior he upheld at all times.

An odd silence fell over the group that had gathered in the Light Fae labs. Dyson, summoned at Lauren’s request, folded his arms over his expansive chest and pursed his lips dubiously. Lauren tried not to focus on the underlying tension that filled the room and her gaze flickered nervously between The Ash and Bo, body taut with grim expectation.

It was The Ash who spoke first, taking in Bo’s unforgiving stance and giving her a cursory nod that she took as thanks.

“The Light Fae outlawed this sort of thing years ago,” he stated firmly.

Bo shrugged. “Yeah, but all you did was drive it underground and make it even more dangerous,” she told him, indifferent to the way that he visibly bristled at her indirect criticism of his leadership.

“Drugs?” Dyson stepped forwards, glancing at Lauren and observing the pained expression that flitted across her features. Bo was taking a huge risk by coming here and an even bigger one by opening up old wounds. He remembered when drugs had been rife among the Fae, how they’d threatened to divert the justice that The Ash wielded with a strong and unforgiving hand. In his younger days, he’d even flirted with the notion himself before he’d seen the destruction mystical narcotics wreaked among his people.

But he’d thought that sort of behavior died out decades ago. Certainly, it hadn’t been something on his radar for a long, long time.

“You’re saying that the victims all took drugs?” he said in disbelief, as Bo turned to gaze at him. “Are you kidding me? One of them was old enough to be my mother.” He let out a mirthless laugh and shook his head.

“That’s what Kendra told us,” Bo nodded firmly, her jaw hardening in light of his doubt. “And come on, Dyson, you know there’s no age limit on stuff like this. You’ve seen it in the human world, right?”

Her inference was clear. When it came to drugs, there was no distinction between the addictions of human or Fae. But more than that, there was little to no distinction between human and Fae behavior. As Dyson stared at her, Bo shrugged again and shook her head. He knew human nature as well as she did. But he was unwilling to consolidate her stance in front of The Ash, which told her more about Dyson’s allegiances than she really wanted to know.

“The human world hardly begins to compare with Fae,” The Ash interjected with a tone of finality to his voice. “Humans are historically weak when it comes to these things.”

“Actually,” Bo fixed The Ash with an icy glare, “that’s not – “

“Did she tell you what sort of drug it is, or where it comes from?” Lauren’s pitch was heightened and she drew Bo’s attention away from The Ash and towards her own strained features. “If I knew its composition, I might be able to find out why it’s so dangerous,” she added.

“She was too scared to tell me anything else.” Bo glanced back at The Ash, her eyes flickering over his stony expression with barely restrained distaste. “She says that the Light can’t protect her. Or won’t,” she added in low voice.

“Our priority and protection only extends to those who are aligned,” The Ash intoned. “The High Council has no duty of care for those outside those boundaries. If this informant of yours has chosen to live beyond our laws, then she cannot be protected by them.”

Before Bo could protest, he lifted a hand to silence her and turned to Dyson instead. “Go through your list of contacts,” he ordered. “Find out where these drugs are coming from. I want some names, Dyson, and I want them quickly. If this operation has been created to target my people, then I want it shut down. Immediately.”

Nodding, Dyson made his way towards the door of the lab, stopping briefly at Bo’s side. But even as he opened his mouth, she rolled her eyes and shook her head, dismissing any attempt he might have made at thanks or consolation. Sighing, he settled for giving her an apologetic shrug which she chose to ignore with a turn of her shoulder, and he didn’t look back as he left.

“So you’re not the least bit interested in finding out how this drug works, or why, right?” Bo remarked, folding her arms over her chest and staring balefully at The Ash.

He gave a tight smile, moving closer to her and inspecting her features like she was some specimen under the microscope.

“I find that I’m more interested in the reasons why you have chosen, once again, to involve yourself in the interests of the Light,” he commented. “Especially as you have no jurisdiction in my county, nor do you follow our procedures or laws in this respect.”

“So?” Bo’s chin jutted out defiantly and, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lauren shift uncomfortably. She knew that silence would be the better part of valor; that in holding her tongue, she might stand a chance of keeping her head, too. But The Ash and all he represented was anathema to her. And not even Lauren’s restrained yet tangible fears could stop her.

The Ash smiled to himself, inclining his head in appreciation of her churlish demeanor. There was something of the warrior about this Succubus; something that, despite himself, he wished he could rein in and use to the full extent of her abilities. Perhaps that was why he allowed her to speak to him the way she did. Why he exercised a greater tolerance for her than was advisable. Why his patience, although wearing thin, encouraged him to indulge her. History had taught him that the greatest allies often came from the most unexpected places. So he had learned to show tolerance until the child was ready to show her allegiance.

But he felt patience, like time, growing short.

“I’m wondering why you’re here,” he said finally. “Are you trying to gain favor with the Light?”

Bo let out a scornful laugh and looked away from him, shaking her head. “I’m here because I believe in doing what’s right,” she told him. “But it’s not a favor to you, or to the Light.”

“Then… why?” The Ash persisted, as Bo scuffed her booted feet on the floor beneath them and chewed at her lip. He noticed the way her gaze lighted on Lauren for a brief moment; the way in which she sought out the constancy in the room, the support she so badly needed. Yes; he didn’t fail to notice that when pushed, the Succubus would always return to the attachments of her heart. To the one thing that appeared to matter above and beyond what she considered ‘right’.

“You realize that you risk a great deal in coming here,” he said with a sly glance at Lauren. “Unaligned Fae are not welcome. We have our own people to solve these problems.”

“Right,” Bo said abruptly. “And they’ve been doing such a stellar job on their own.”

“Bo.” Lauren’s voice was low, hushed, almost reproachful. As the Succubus looked over at the doctor, Lauren frowned and shook her head imperceptibly. It was one thing to disapprove of The Ash’s leadership, but quite another to voice it in front of him.

“I did it to help,” Bo said with a sigh. “To help her.” She jerked her head towards Lauren and her lip curled as she saw the satisfied expression creeping across The Ash’s face.

He nodded. “I see.”

“You really don’t,” Bo muttered. For a moment, it appeared as though she was going to launch into yet another blistering recrimination of the Light Fae, but in the moment that she drew breath, she caught herself and instead flung out her arms helplessly.

“Look,” she said firmly. “I know you want to protect the Light and uphold your… laws,” she spat out the last word as though it tasted bad on her tongue. “But you can’t stop people breaking them. You can’t stop them wanting to. Even if you shut down the operation, someone else will start it up again, somewhere else. You need to find out what it is, what it does and how it works. That’s the only way to prevent this happening again.”

“Hm.” The Ash tilted his head onto one side and clasped his hands together behind his back. “And do you agree?” He turned to Lauren who shifted again under his gimlet gaze and swallowed visibly.

“I uh… ” she began, glancing at Bo and taking heart from the tiny smile that the Succubus gave her. “I think that if I could analyze how this drug works then it might prevent any more Light Fae dying.”

“Light Fae who choose to indulge in forbidden activities?” The Ash questioned with raised eyebrows.

“You said yourself that we have a duty of care towards our people.” Lauren’s voice grew stronger as she found confidence in the quiet, open appraisal of The Ash. “I wouldn’t be much of a doctor if I chose not to help those with the greatest need.”

The Ash’s chin lifted as he nodded appreciatively, a faint smile passing over his lips. As always, Lauren’s sense of diplomacy was well-developed. Sometimes he couldn’t help wondering if he’d nurtured it rather too well – she had used it against his better judgment in the past and now she was doing it again. His leadership had been carved in a swift, decisive fashion, meting out punishment liberally in order to send a warning to his people. But Lauren believed that knowledge overruled everything and outlawed his desire to cling to the old ways.

In times past, he might have ignored her. He might have simply blazed through the underworld and left nothing to chance. Fae customs dictated that those who broke the law would themselves be broken by its edicts. Upholding that was his duty; his heritage as The Ash, giver of life and protector of his people. And the old ways, wielded in the fight and compounded in punishment, were becoming obsolete in the modern world. No matter how he tried to resist change, it was happening around him in ways that sent a whisper of cautionary fear down his spine. Because if his kingdom were to fall, then what would become of him and all he’d worked so hard to preserve?

“Find out what this thing is,” he said. “Find out what it does. I want it gone, Lauren.”

She nodded quickly, clasping her hands together and letting out a long breath that she didn’t know she’d been holding until The Ash had spoken.

“And you,” The Ash turned to Bo, who met his gaze with a challenging glint of dark eyes. “I suggest if you really want to help her, then you may need to curb that temper of yours. You need to win our favor, not our condemnation.”

He nodded again, satisfied that he’d given the Succubus enough warning and enough rope with which to hang herself. The outcome, he told himself, was in her own hands now. And she would either rise to meet the fray or die trying.

“I meet with The Morrigan at noon,” he told Lauren as he walked towards the doorway. “I want you there.”

By the time his footsteps had faded along the corridor outside, Bo was already pacing the floor and clenching her hands into fists of agitated anger. It was only when Lauren’s hand grasped her arm that she halted, turning to look into eyes that were wide with concern.

“Don’t,” she said hurriedly, as Lauren opened her mouth to speak. “Whatever you’re going to say, just don’t, okay?”

Lauren took a deep breath and let it out again slowly, tempering her instincts and trying to control her fears. She knew The Ash well enough to understand that his reaction and questioning of Bo wasn’t borne out of idle curiosity. She’d seen the gleam of interest in his eyes; the flare of greed across his face when he considered how Bo might be an asset to the Light. And the more successful Bo was at finding answers that the Light couldn’t, the more avaricious he was likely to become. But his greed would come at a price and it was this knowledge that made Lauren fearful. Because she knew that The Ash was only too aware of the price she might be willing to pay in order to keep Bo safe.

“He’s not going to let you get involved with us forever, Bo.”

“Us?” Bo echoed, head falling to one side.

“The Light,” Lauren answered, shaking her head and letting go of Bo’s arm.

“Yeah, I know who you mean,” Bo said. “You just always do that, you know? You always consider yourself one of them.”

Turning away, Lauren wandered over to her desk and sat down behind it. “I suppose,” she began thoughtfully, fingering the pendant around her neck, “that I feel like I am.”

“As long as you behave yourself and act like The Ash’s good little slave.”

Lauren’s eyes flew open at the blatant and undeniable revulsion in Bo’s tone and she turned to stare at the Succubus. Her mouth opened and closed in silent horror as she failed to find any words that would appropriate a fitting response. Shaking her head, she clamped her lips tight shut and turned back to her desk, focusing instead on her computer screen which displayed all the research she’d gathered so far. The findings onscreen blurred in front of her as she blinked away some errant tears and she cursed herself for being so vulnerable to Bo’s disapproval.

“I’m sorry.” The apology came from close by, Bo’s voice softer and pliable with regret.

“Okay.” Lauren nodded shortly, squinting at her computer in the hopes of dismissing the temptation to look at the Succubus.

“No, listen,” Bo’s hand slid onto Lauren’s shoulder and the doctor froze for a minute at the contact. “I really am sorry. I didn’t mean to – “

“I said it was okay,” Lauren said abruptly. “Look, I have to prepare for this meeting with The Morrigan, so… ” She gestured towards her computer screen and purposely didn’t look up at Bo, even going so far as to turn her back slightly so that she didn’t have to see disappointed eyes looking down at her.

There was a moment’s silence in which Bo’s hand slipped from her shoulder and an audible sigh drifted into the air above her head. Pressing her lips together, Lauren tried to maintain her focus on the computer screen, but knew that Bo was waiting for her to relent.

Perhaps it was childish, but Lauren gritted her teeth and was determined not to. They’d clashed over her obligations to the Light Fae so often that she was simply sick of hearing about it. Especially when Bo chose to underline her objections with the only weapon she had that could cut through Lauren’s sense of self.

“You’re mad at me.” It wasn’t a question, and Bo’s voice held a tone of resignation that slid uneasily from her mouth.

“I don’t have time to be mad at you, Bo,” Lauren told her, reaching for the stack of notes she intended to take to the meeting with her. “I have work to do.”

“Yeah,” Bo said quietly, taking a step back. She shrugged and looked down at Lauren, at the sharpened lines of the doctor’s face, her own creasing into a frown at the knowledge that she’d put them there. “Well… I guess I should… yeah. I should go.”

Lauren made a brief noise of acknowledgement but still didn’t look up, and Bo let out a sigh, turning on her heel and heading towards the doorway of the lab. She was halfway across the room when she heard her name and spun around, a hopeful smile on her lips.

“The Ash gave you a reprieve today, you know.” Lauren’s expression was impassive as her eyes darted around the lab – anywhere except onto Bo herself. “You might want to take it. Being with the Light isn’t as bad as you think.” She turned back to her computer and shrugged a little. “And neither am I for wanting to be a part of it.”

“Bad?” Bo echoed, watching Lauren carefully as the doctor feigned interest in her notes. “Lauren, I never said you were bad, I just – “

“I know.” Lauren’s tone was as sharp as the glance she threw Bo’s way, her dismissal implicit. The doctor bent towards her computer once more, tapping a few keys to indicate that the conversation was over. By the time she dared look over her shoulder, Bo was already gone.

Part 15

The Morrigan lifted her hand, curling her fingers to inspect her nails. They were perfect, as usual. Painted scarlet, like her lips, and shaped with a smooth curve, they represented everything about her existence that she chose to display to others. Those who said that appearances didn’t matter were fooling themselves; appearances were everything. Especially when it came to leading her people. They looked to her for guidance and direction. They cowered in light of her swift and merciless punishments. She was the figurehead under which the Dark Fae lived. So yes; appearances were important.

And hers was faultless.

She nodded to herself and replaced her hand onto the dark, polished wood of the conference table. Catching her reflection in its surface, a self-satisfied smirk passed over her lips and she took a breath, looking down the length of the table to the figure at the other end.

The Ash was sitting in a huge chair that boasted his predilection for pomp and circumstance. Two members of the High Council sat to his right, stern-faced and rigid. And to his left, behind the chair, stood his human doctor. The Morrigan eyed Lauren with interest. She had initially failed to understand why The Ash would keep a human pet in the manner which he did – he trusted her and relied upon her. He even treated her, in some respects, like one of his own.

The Morrigan’s lip curled a little as she looked at Lauren and observed the almost penitent stance of the human. Truth be told, she rather admired Lauren’s dedication to the Fae, even if she was under the protection of the Light. For a human, she showed much promise. For a human, she was almost tolerable.

Almost.

Eyes glancing to her right, The Morrigan observed the taut features of Sagi, who was also casting a look of appraisal towards Lauren. He’d never admit it, of course, but she knew that in some ways he was jealous that a human had been able to garner more information and knowledge about the Fae than he had. In fact, if it hadn’t been for the deal he’d struck with Lauren some time ago, then she might have considered relieving him of his position as her medical advisor. And of his life.

He had saved both by reaping the benefits of Lauren’s vast research. And even though some of the Dark Fae Council disapproved of his methods, The Morrigan had chosen leniency and appeared graciously magnanimous to her people.

Well, she thought smugly to herself, sometimes a little positive PR went a long way to keeping her people in check.

And then there was this. This meeting that The Ash had called. He’d demanded her presence in his Council chambers and although her natural tendency was to flout his stuffy sense of protocol, she knew that to refuse his request wouldn’t sit well with the Dark Council. It had seemed pertinent to show strength. If needs be, to show confrontation, too. The Morrigan was afraid of nothing. No-one. She was, after all, created from a warrior’s spirit and the exhilaration of conquest. But it didn’t mean that she had to like being here with the eyes of Light Elders bearing no good will towards her and her companions.

So the expression on her face was somewhat soured as she gazed down the table to where The Ash sat, indomitable and unmovable, just like his roots in their world. Letting out a sigh, The Morrigan rolled her eyes and pursed her lips.

“Are you going to tell me what this is about?” she asked, raising her eyebrows towards The Ash. “Because I’m already bored.”

Sagi let out a huff of laughter and The Morrigan shot him a sly smile of conceited self-congratulation.

“It appears that an old problem has resurfaced,” The Ash intoned.

“Ah,” The Morrigan nodded with another smirk on her mouth. “Is your little medical predicament making itself a nuisance again? Has your doctor prescribed some ointment for it?” She spoke in an over-exaggerated whisper, as though sharing a confidence with a friend.

Again Sagi sniggered and glanced up the length of the table to where Lauren stood. He noticed how she flinched at The Morrigan’s words and, cruelly, her discomfort only served to increase his amusement. But The Ash wasn’t laughing, nor was he impressed with The Morrigan’s deflection.

“Light Fae have been dying from a drug product that has become available on the black market,” The Ash said. “I’m sure you’re aware that the Light and Dark made an agreement decades ago that these sorts of narcotics were illegal among our people.”

“I remember,” The Morrigan said lightly. “But then, it’s so very you to take the fun out of… ” She waved her hand in the air and shrugged. “Well… everything,” she finished.

“This isn’t a matter to be taken lightly.” The Ash’s voice halted any and all merriment that might have come from The Morrigan and delight slipped from her features until she met his eyes in a hard, mirthless gaze.

“Dead Light Fae are of no concern to me,” she told him, noticing how the Light Elders sitting at the table to her left shifted and bristled slightly. “If you can’t control drug use among your people, then what on earth am I expected to do about it?”

“I want to know where these drugs are coming from,” The Ash insisted, laying his broad hand on the table top, fingers splaying out over the polished surface.

“Ah,” The Morrigan nodded. “And of course, you think that the Dark are supplying them. How predictable of you. Blaming us for your own people’s frailties.”

“You do realize that if we find out that you are responsible for these products, then it will be taken as a declaration of war. The consequences would be most unpleasant for everyone concerned. We seek to uphold our laws and treaties, even if that means meting out punishment among our own. But make no mistake; if the Dark have targeted the Light Fae – in any way, then it will not end well for you.”

The Morrigan considered the threat – for that was certainly what it was. Her gaze slid up the length of the table to where Lauren stood behind The Ash’s chair. Lips twisting in thought for a moment, The Morrigan finally lifted a hand, waving it carelessly in the air.

“I’d say that when it comes to upholding laws and treaties, then your reputation isn’t entirely unblemished,” she drawled. Her eyes raked brazenly over Lauren and the doctor shuddered at the almost tangible, unwelcome caress.

“Internal politics have nothing to do with the Dark,” The Ash defended himself in the only way possible, by closing down completely and proffering a hard-lined expression towards The Morrigan.

“Oh really?” she lifted her eyebrows and tilted her head onto one side. “So when it comes to the law, you’re willing to overlook little things for someone you treasure, is that it? The law only applies to those you don’t care for. Interesting.”

“I really don’t see how this relates to the matter at hand.” One of The Ash’s Elders spoke up, an olive-skinned woman with jet black hair whose piercing blue eyes fixed upon The Morrigan for a brief moment. “Fae are dying.”

“Light Fae,” The Morrigan corrected her, shrugging nonchalantly. “So obviously, I don’t care. But yes, sweetie, you were right. Light Fae are dying, aren’t they?”

Taking a short breath, she met Sagi’s gaze again before her eyes swiveled back to rest on The Ash. “And yet, you harbor a known unaligned Fae. Not only that, but you allow her to pretend that the relations she has with a human,” her mouth formed a moue of disgust, “are permissible. Perhaps, dear Ash, you might want to get your own house in order before you start casting aspersions upon mine.”

The Ash’s hand curled into a fist – the only sign of his growing ire. A muscle ticked high up on his cheek and he closed his eyes briefly for a moment. Opening them, he fixed The Morrigan with an irritated gaze.

“My doctor has carried out research which we can make available to you. I suggest you read it. If your own people are in danger of suffering the same fate, it might be necessary to form some sort of alliance.” His mouth turned down as the final word slipped from his mouth and he drew in a breath as The Morrigan’s expression turned to affronted amazement.

“Alliance?” The Morrigan echoed. “Oh honey, you’re not serious are you? First you accuse the Dark of creating and selling this drug and now you’re suggesting we band together to get rid of it?” She shook her head, unsure whether to feel amused or maligned. Say what you like about The Ash – and she had, many times, in many different ways – he didn’t rule the Light Fae with an iron hand for no reason. And if she was forced to admit it, she had a grudging respect for his tenacity and courage in even thinking that Light and Dark could work peaceably together on anything.

“I’m suggesting,” The Ash said firmly, “that the old treaties we made must be adhered to. That breaking such an agreement is a blatant disregard of the understanding we reached between our factions.”

The Morrigan eyed him suspiciously for a moment before glancing at Sagi, who nodded imperceptibly. “I want everything you have,” she said suddenly. “Everything your little human has found out about this drug. But I’m not making any promises.”

She smiled at The Ash, but her eyes were cold. “Perhaps if you allowed your people a little leeway in their sorry existence then you might not have this problem in the first place.”

She placed a finger against her lips and frowned thoughtfully for a moment before pointing her scarlet-tipped finger into the air and nodding. “But then, I forget myself. You don’t exactly keep to the old ways all the time, do you?” Her eyes moved beyond The Ash to rest on Lauren and she smiled again, her lips a cruel slash of red across her features.

This time, Lauren straightened; throwing her shoulders back and meeting The Morrigan’s eyes with courage. At the back of her mind, she wondered where it came from; how she could acquire the appearance of strength without truly feeling the confidence that should come with it. But, in as much as The Morrigan intimidated her, Lauren knew that there other things that simply terrified her. So she was determined not to let the Dark in, lest she might stand to lose so much more than her life.

“I’m willing to consider a… a deal, shall we say?” The Morrigan’s voice lifted slightly and The Ash pursed his lips, knowing that whatever came next wouldn’t be to his liking.

“Call it compensation,” The Morrigan continued with an arched brow. “Give me the Succubus and I’ll send my medical advisor over as soon as possible.”

A murmur spread among the Light Elders present and a couple of them leaned in towards one another, whispering something that The Morrigan couldn’t quite catch. Not that she needed to. The Succubus had been something of an anomaly in their courts: discussed, admired, and even feared. And it had rankled with the Dark Elders that the Succubus simply refused to choose a side – an inherent part of any Fae’s natural progression into adulthood.

The girl remained nebulous; an unknown quantity that both disgusted and fascinated The Morrigan. But one thing both Light and Dark knew was that the girl was unique; different in ways that the Dark had not, as of yet, discovered. The Morrigan wanted Bo for the same reasons that she despised her. Loyalty to the Fae was a birthright, whether one chose to accept it or not.

The fact that the Succubus hadn’t done so yet presented something of a challenge to The Morrigan. And she did so love a game worth playing.

“Impossible,” The Ash stated in a low tone, drawing The Morrigan’s gaze to his firmly set features. “I cannot give you something which I do not possess.”

“Oh, really?” The Morrigan laughed – a light, musical tone that quite belied the threatening shadows in her gaze. “I’m sure there must be someone under your jurisdiction who could… well, persuade her of the benefits to joining the Dark?”

“That’s blackmail!” The Light Elder who had spoken before lurched forwards, eyes wide in alarm.

The Morrigan smiled sweetly. “It is, isn’t it?” She looked at The Ash and cocked her head to one side. “And here’s me thinking that your Council members were all as horribly unimaginative as you are.”

“This is not the reason I asked you here – “

“I don’t care,” The Morrigan interrupted The Ash into silence, hand held palm up in the air. “She needs to choose. Light or Dark.” Her voice had become harsh; her staccato sentences tightening her mouth.

Taking a breath and slowly closing her eyes, The Morrigan bit back every curse she wanted to hurl at The Ash and instead smiled. When she opened her eyes, it was to look around the room at the gathered Fae with a renewed sense of assumed calm.

“She roams our streets quite without the slightest bit of respect for our ways. I simply can’t allow it to continue, I’m afraid.” Her voice more controlled, she blinked lazily. “So here’s the deal, sweetie: bring me the Succubus and I’ll help make your county joyless and clean again. Allow her to continue flouting my laws, and there will be blood.”

Dropping her hand, The Morrigan nodded brightly, taking great pleasure in the troubled expression tracing lines of apprehension across Lauren’s face.

“I don’t respond to threats.” The Ash placed his hands onto the arms of his chair, gripping tightly, voice rumbling with the portent of an oncoming storm. “Especially not from the Dark.”

“Then this meeting is over.” The Morrigan stood, Sagi leaping to his feet a second later. Two stocky and impossibly ugly Fae emerged from the shadows in the corner of the room, lumbering towards their mistress. The Morrigan pulled at her fashionable and quite horrifyingly expensive jacket before directing her gaze towards The Ash.

“Let me know what you decide, won’t you?” she said, her tone cloyingly pleasant. “I wonder what the limit is on dead Light Fae before you realize that I always get what I want in the end.”

Another smile curved her lips as she glanced behind him, her eyes meeting Lauren’s in a brief moment of tacit understanding. “I’ll make sure Sagi looks over your work. I’m sure it’s… ” She rolled her eyes, feigning silent awe. “… meticulous,” she finished.

Letting out a satisfied and distinctly victorious chuckle, The Morrigan waved her hand absently at the occupants of the room and swept away with all the grace of a regal procession, Sagi trotting behind her in the role of obsequious pageboy.

Lauren took a hesitant step forwards, her hand reaching out to the back of The Ash’s chair before she halted, snatched it back and pressed it against her chest. This wasn’t the time for apologies. And it certainly wasn’t the time to give the High Council cause to see a human responsible for all their troubles. She moved backwards, dipping her head reverently, even though all eyes were on The Ash as he lifted a hand to his face and rubbed at his chin, glowering.

“She has a point.” Another Light Elder spoke up; a broad-shouldered, white-haired male who had remained silent throughout the meeting, observing with some trepidation the gathering clouds of unrest in the room. As The Ash turned to glare at him, he shook his head. “The Succubus has been allowed to exist between our sides for far too long. I abhor the Dark and everything they stand for, but we can’t allow our people to continue dying if there is a simple solution to the problem.”

“But it’s not simple,” The Ash replied with a frown. “Nothing about this is simple.” He spat the word out as though he’d suddenly tasted the rancor of defeat.

“If the Dark are involved in this – in any way – then we will be forced into mounting an attack of retaliation. Should that happen, then the Succubus needs to be with us. And we will need to be with her,” he said firmly. “The ancient texts are quite clear about that.”

Lauren stiffened and stared at the ground, eyes widening. The Ash had never spoken freely about his fascination with Bo. But, if his words were to be interpreted, that fascination was a need. Bo wasn’t just important in the fragile balance between light and dark: she was essential.

The female Elder pursed her lips and leaned back in her chair. “And yet,” she said in a low tone, “her constant refusal to join us and her insistence on moving between Light and Dark at will goes unpunished?”

“Punishing her would only drive her further towards the Dark,” The Ash stated.

The male Elder glanced at his counterpart, then inclined his head towards The Ash. “There is some concern,” he began, clearing his throat. “About your leadership.”

The Ash said nothing, but his eyebrows rose and he gazed steadfastly at the Light Elder until the man cleared his throat again and nodded.

“The High Council feels that your preoccupation with the ancient prophecies has overwhelmed your desire to uphold our traditions. We all know the relevance of the Succubus but our people are dying. And if this is a declaration of war, then if we can avoid it we owe it to the Light to do just that. The ancient texts told of the future for our kind. But we need to make sure we have one.”

The Ash nodded slowly. “I see. A sacrificial lamb.”

Behind him, Lauren gasped aloud before putting her hand to her mouth, fingers digging into her cheek.

“A necessary act to save us from war,” the female Elder corrected him with her tone, if not her words. Her gaze, flickering towards Lauren, shone for a brief moment of sympathy before the woman shook her head. “It’s who we are,” she added.

As both Elders nodded at The Ash and rose from their chairs, Lauren was only aware of the gravity of those words. Of the resolute grasp that the Fae had on their identity. They’d made many concessions to the growth of the human world; watched as it flourished around them and infiltrated it, fed from it, protected it. It was why the Fae still clung fiercely to their clans, allowing tradition to shape them and guide them. In a world overrun by humans, it was all they had left.

And Bo? Bo refused to align herself with the one thing that Fae held most dear above all. She repudiated her identity and cherished a world that was foreign and inferior. A world of humans in which Bo had found love. She wasn’t simply a mystery to the Fae; she was an abomination.

As the Elders left the room, The Ash threw up his hand and beckoned to Lauren, who stepped forwards, standing by his chair.

“It seems that your time is running out.” He spoke quietly with the resignation of one whose tenuous hold on power was slipping from his fingers.

“Give me a few more days.” Lauren’s voice was taut and she curled her hands into fists by her sides.

“Child.” The Ash frowned now, bowing his head and letting out a long sigh. “You must turn your attentions to greater needs than your own. I want to know what is killing my people. And I want the Succubus to join with us. These things are not within my power, as well you know.”

“Yes… sir.” Lauren reacted almost involuntarily before she caught her breath, lifting her head and taking a tiny step closer to The Ash. “I’ve tried,” she said. “I know she can’t stay with me and I have tried to get her to understand that.”

It almost killed her to give voice to it; to the dull ache of acknowledgement. To knowing that separation was a just cause and an inevitable casualty to ward off the distant drums of war. Lauren had always secretly thought Bo a hero – the kind who adopted battles and fought them for people they didn’t even know. Bo was passionate and strong; foolhardy and impulsive. But beneath all of that, there was a brightness that shone so clearly that Lauren was amazed everyone couldn’t see it.

Yes; Bo was a hero. The truest kind. Lauren had often thought so. But she’d never thought of herself as one – nor the sort of person who could ever want to be a hero.

And yet, here she was, accepting a hardened fate to help a people who welcomed her, respected her. Some of them even liked her. But she wasn’t one of them and never would be; she would never be enough to keep Bo, let alone love her without fear.

Clutching her fists against her stomach, Lauren swallowed and gazed down at The Ash for guidance, warmth, pity. “I have tried,” she whispered.

The Ash nodded. And there was a part of him that reached out to her pain to heal, to soothe, and to banish. But there was no balm that could cure a broken heart, so he remained dispassionate and looked up at Lauren with empty eyes.

“Try harder,” he said.

Part 16

Bo was waiting for her when Lauren returned home. From the moment the doctor entered the living room, she could almost taste the tension in the air, feel the awkwardness in Bo’s glance towards her from where she sat on the couch.

Rising, Bo clasped her hands in front of her and gazed down at the floor, shuffling her feet on the wood for a moment as Lauren walked across the room, slowing to a halt just a few feet away.

Bo had spent the day regretting her harsh words to Lauren. She regretted hurting the doctor even more, and had gone over and over the conversation with Kenzi until her friend had finally held up her hands in defeat and ordered Bo to apologize to Lauren. Kenzi had even gone so far as to threaten Bo with a blunt object to the head if she said one more word about what sort of terrible creature could say such things to the person they loved.

Having made fervent promises to make it right, Bo found that she was oddly nervous now. Looking at the other woman, Bo almost flinched at the expression in Lauren’s eyes – dark and apprehensive with faint pangs of hurt blurring their color to a somber hue.

“How did the meeting go?” Bo asked quietly.

Lauren took a long breath and heaved it out in a protracted sigh. “Not well.” She looked at the Succubus, gave a tight smile and shrugged helplessly at the penitent expression on Bo’s face. But she said nothing. There seemed to be very little comfort in words, anyway. Besides, all the talk in the world couldn’t hope to quell the rising anxiety in her chest as she gazed at Bo. Words were inadequate and meaningless and could never truly describe how she felt – how her heart ached as she realized that every moment spent with Bo was an inevitable step towards their last.

So apologies didn’t really matter. And regret was meaningless. All that mattered was Bo’s survival. All that mattered was that she stay alive. If what The Ash had alluded to was true, then all the things that Lauren wanted for Bo were more important than ever. If the Succubus was to play an integral role in warding off conflict – or resolving it – then, Lauren knew, her own sacrifices would be for the greater good. And wasn’t that why she’d become a doctor in the first place? Wasn’t that why she had offered herself up for ownership under The Ash? To protect. Not to destroy. Not to hinder progress. And certainly not to do it for selfish reasons.

“Can I do anything?” Bo took a hesitant step forwards, holding out a hand towards Lauren. “To help, I mean?”

Reaching out, Lauren slid her fingers between Bo’s and squeezed gently. Leading the Succubus to the sofa, they both sat down and the doctor paused for a moment, contemplation furrowing her brow.

“I need to talk to you,” she said slowly, the gravity of her tone drawing Bo’s face into lines of worry.

“I didn’t mean what I said to you.” Bo’s voice came out in a rush of anxiety, breathless and instantly desperate. “I’m sorry, Lauren. I didn’t mean it. It just slipped out because of The Ash and the Fae and… I didn’t mean it.” The words tumbled from her lips almost nonsensically but their meaning was clear. And as the Succubus leaned forwards, peering into Lauren’s eyes, the doctor couldn’t help but smile faintly at the innocence she saw. In some respects, Bo was an infant in this world; a floundering, naïve infant who knew nothing of love. Who only knew that she wanted it above all else.

“I know you’re sorry,” Lauren said, seeing relief flood Bo’s features momentarily. “This whole thing… ” she sighed, shaking her head. “It frustrates me too. And if we could run away from it, I would. But they’d find us, Bo. And they’d hurt you.”

Bo let out a noise of derision. “They could try,” she said defiantly, lifting her chin a little.

And there it was. That childlike belief that love was stronger than anything; that the power Bo wielded was enough to ward off any and all assailants. For a second, Lauren wanted desperately to believe that it could happen – that they might stay protected in the world they’d created around them.

But reality and experience far outweighed anything that Lauren might have clung to and as she looked at Bo, the doctor’s hopes fell as swiftly and sadly as her expression.

“The Light needs you.”

Bo blinked, her mouth falling open. “But… ” she grasped for comprehension, coming up short and shaking her head, confused. “What about you? You need me too… don’t you?”

“The Light needs you more.”

“The same Light that says we shouldn’t be together, right?” Astonishment turned to resentment, sliding into anger as Bo’s jaw tightened. “I am so sick of hearing about this, Lauren. Seriously. It’s all you talk about these days.”

“You don’t understand,” Lauren said carefully, as though speaking to a child.

“Oh no, I understand alright,” Bo snatched her hands from Lauren’s and jerked backwards on the sofa. “I can either join the Light and lose you, or stay independent and lose you. That’s what you’re trying to say, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know… ” Lauren muttered, holding her arms around her body as though seeking comfort from the ache in her chest.

“Yes, you do.” Bo’s voice was harsh, gritty with the emotion cloying her throat. “You always know, Lauren. You always know. So what you’re really saying is that you don’t want to be with me anymore. You’re choosing them over me.”

Lauren’s head shot up and she stared at Bo with wide, horrified eyes. “I’m choosing you, Bo!” she breathed. “Your safety, your protection, your future. Nothing is more important to me than that.”

“Right,” Bo nodded sharply. “I’ll be safe,” her lip curled in rebuke, “but I’ll be alone. Unhappy. That’s what you want?”

“Of course not,” Lauren said, frowning. “But when I had to let my sister go, I knew that it was for her own good. And mine, too.”

Bo leapt to her feet, pacing a little before throwing her hands up in the air. “Nothing about not being together is good!” she cried. “Jesus, Lauren! You’re not even giving us a chance. You’re just… just accepting defeat. Just like that.”

Now Lauren stood, holding out her hands to the Succubus. But Bo glowered at them and turned away, folding her arms across her body resolutely. Letting her hands fall uselessly by the sides of her body, Lauren swallowed the rising fear in her throat.

“I choose my battles carefully, Bo.” Her voice was quiet, heavy with the scars of conflicts past. “And this is one we can’t win.”

“I don’t believe that,” Bo said in a hard tone. “I won’t ever believe that. I’m not giving up, Lauren. Even if you are.” She threw her final words towards the other woman; a challenge, an accusation, a judgment.

Lauren felt a prescient prickle at the back of her neck; a strange mixture of irritation and anxiety. It crept across her shoulders with a subtle finality, like the slow and inevitable change of summer to Fall. When she spoke, her voice was crisp with the brittle edges of the oncoming winter.

“The Ash is this close,” she held her forefinger and thumb millimeters apart, “to declaring war on the Dark. And The Morrigan won’t back down from a fight.”

“So?” Bo shrugged. “Fae politics has nothing to do with me.”

“It’s got everything to do with you!” Lauren bit the inside of her cheek, feeling a cold anger rise in her chest. The Ash’s reference to ancient prophecies rolled around her head, throwing up questions, portents, harbingers of a future she couldn’t possibly hope to predict and instead had to imagine. The sudden need to protect Bo had become an imperative, not just a compulsion.

“So you let them destroy us instead?” Bo rolled her eyes and let out a mirthless blurt of laughter.

“To keep you alive, yes.”

“That’s stupid,” Bo spat out.

“Because rushing headlong into everything without considering the consequences isn’t?” Lauren’s eyes glinted with a frustrated ire that she could no longer contain. “Honestly, Bo, you think you can beat the world into submission every time it doesn’t suit you and that’s what’s stupid.”

Even if she had meant to chastise Bo, Lauren hadn’t intended for it to sound so bitter and cold. A shiver ran down her spine as the doctor saw Bo’s face, hurt and disappointed, then dark and angry. The Succubus’ eyes flashed as she turned on Lauren, fists clenched.

“I do that so the world doesn’t beat me!” she hissed, her fist banging against her thigh in emphasis. “I can’t be a martyr like you, Lauren.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That you never choose anything for yourself. That The Ash and the Fae have beaten you down so much that you don’t think you deserve anything. That’s why you’re giving up on us. It’s why you told me to go out and feed. Because you,” she pointed at Lauren, who flinched as though she’d been physically struck, “can’t let yourself be happy. Not even for one minute.”

“You’re not listening to me. This isn’t about me, or you, or us. It’s about what’s right. I can’t be selfish when my people are dying, Bo!”

“Your people?” Bo echoed, scoffing at Lauren’s impassioned words. “The people who treat you like shit because you’re a human, you mean?”

Silence fell between them again, settling like frost on the last visible patches of verdant green, turning it to white-cold frozen earth. A shiver chilled down Lauren’s spine and she shook her head, at a loss as to what to say or do anymore.

“I know they make you feel like you can never be enough for them,” Bo said quietly, a trace of gentle empathy entering her voice and tugging at Lauren’s senses. “That who you are isn’t enough. I felt like that too, with almost everyone I ever met. Like I didn’t fit in or… or that I wasn’t good enough to have what I deserved. Hell,” she let out a puff of air and shook her head, “I almost started thinking that maybe I didn’t deserve it.”

“Bo… ” Lauren began, but the Succubus frowned and shook her head again, stepping forwards to grasp the doctor’s upper arms in tight, hungry fingers.

“But you’re enough for me, Lauren. And I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that before you believe it. You are,” she nodded. “You’re enough.”

“Then listen to me,” Lauren looked into Bo’s eyes and freed an arm so that she could put her palm against the Succubus’ cheek. Bo leant into the caress, tangible relief on her features. “Think about joining the Light. That way I can keep you close. Keep you safe. Please, Bo. Do it for me.”

She remembered the last time she’d asked for a personal favor. The last time The Ash had placed caveats on her relationship and conditions on her emotions. It had been a lie then, too. A deception made for the greater good and incurring a personal tragedy. But when choice was wrested from her hold, what else remained? The inevitable farewell to which they had both been careering from the outset.

“But what about me?” Bo’s voice was no more than a whisper, trailing from her lips like the plaintive cry of a lost child. “What happens then?”

Lauren stroked her thumb along Bo’s cheekbone, trying not to notice how the Succubus’ eyes were already brimming with tears.

“You stay alive,” she said. “That’s what your kind does, Bo. You stay alive. And you do whatever it takes.”

For a moment, it seemed as though understanding entered the glistening eyes staring at Lauren. But the moment passed as quickly as it had appeared and was replaced by the dull stubbornness of defiance, flaring in Bo’s gaze as she stepped away from Lauren’s caress and shook her head.

“No.”

Lauren sighed, her heart sinking. “Bo. Please… ”

“No,” the Succubus said again, her lips drawn into a line of discontent. She scrubbed at her eyes with the back of her hand and glowered at Lauren. “Surviving is all I’ve ever done, Lauren,” she said. “I’m used to doing it on my own.”

“You don’t have to – look, what I’m telling you is that – “

“I know what you’re telling me,” Bo interjected sharply. “And I know it’s bullshit, too.”

She leaned down and grabbed at her jacket, lying over the arm of the sofa. “I gotta get out of here,” she muttered, moving past Lauren and heading for the door.

“Wait.” Lauren swung around, confused. “Where are you… ? Bo, what’s going on?”

“I’m surviving,” Bo threw back over her shoulder. “That’s what my kind do, right Lauren?”

The door slammed behind her as she left and Lauren winced at the sound echoing through the house. Her heart twisted in her chest and she clasped a hand to her breast as though she could feel it trying to burst from her body. It felt as though all the air had left the room and she gasped, straining for comfort and finding none.

She had betrayed The Ash before. Betrayed Bo, too. But this? This was only a betrayal of herself. Sacrifice. It was all she’d ever known. It sat heavy and emotionless on her shoulders as she struggled to stay upright under its crushing weight. But there was no sense to be gleaned from a breaking heart, only confusion and a desperate yearning for an end to it.

Lauren had always cherished the stricture of Fae law. She had adhered to it and nurtured it – so much so that it had become an integral part of her own existence. And now, the very thing that had defined her purpose was the one thing that threatened it like a sword of Damocles over her head: one wrong move either way and the fragile string would break, raining down the sharpest and severest of punishments on both her and Bo.

She’d thought that saying goodbye to her sister might break her, but it hadn’t. Saying goodbye to Bo, though. Well, that already had.

Three raps on her front door sounded out, jerking her head upwards, eyes darting towards the sound.

“Bo,” she whispered, a faint strand of hope weaving around that fragile string and staying the plunge of the sword.

“Bo,” she said again, this time a little more firmly. Getting to her feet, Lauren rushed to the door and reached for the handle, wrenching it open with an expression of relief on her face.

It faded to horror as she saw the figures standing outside her door. Her fingers tightened around the door handle and she caught her breath as one of them stepped forwards.

“Dr Lewis,” The Morrigan said with a feral smile that was all red lips and sharp, white teeth. “I thought perhaps it was time I paid you a house call.”

She laughed, delighted with her own wit and tilted her head to one side, staring at Lauren’s wide-eyed apprehension.

“Well dear,” she peered past the doctor into the house for a brief moment before her gimlet gaze returned to Lauren’s features. “Aren’t you going to invite us in? I have a feeling we’re just what the doctor ordered.”

Part 17

“No need to worry,” The Morrigan waved her hand dismissively in the air as she sauntered into Lauren’s living room, looking around with heavy-lidded, judgmental eyes. Finally she decided to set herself down on the large, leather armchair opposite the sofa. “Nobody’s going to hurt you… yet,” she corrected herself with a flourish and a dark look at Lauren.

She smiled and gestured for Lauren to sit, whilst the burly lackey she’d brought with her loomed over the back of the chair. The Morrigan’s mouth twisted as she glanced up at him and she waved her fingers, gesturing for him to retreat a little, which he did with an ungainly step.

Composing herself, The Morrigan crossed one leg over her knee and pulled primly at the hem of her tailored skirt, straightening creases that didn’t exist and picking at invisible lint. Finally satisfied with her appearance, she laid one hand over the other on her leg and leaned forwards with all the delighted interest of a gossipy neighbor.

“So,” she began in an enthused tone, “we just saw your little Succubus friend leave and thought we’d offer you a shoulder to cry on.” She nodded, her brow furrowing into a sympathetic frown. She even pushed out her bottom lip in a gesture that made Lauren bristle at its patronizing fullness.

“I’m not… not crying,” Lauren said in a voice much braver than she felt.

“So I see,” The Morrigan mused. “Which is odd, considering you would have just explained why she needs to join the Dark. I was expecting more… ” Her voice trailed away as she looked into the air thoughtfully, lifting a hand to whirl her fingers around as though for inspiration.

“Well,” she finally said, dropping her hand and fixing Lauren with eyes that were bright and cold. “I think I expected more drama. More tears. More goodbyes,” she added, her voice as hard as her gaze.

“The Ash never agreed to that arrangement,” Lauren said, her hands clasping together on her knees, the tips of her fingers turning white as she clenched them over her knuckles.

“True,” The Morrigan agreed equivocally. She shrugged, the corners of her mouth turning downwards in vague acceptance. “But we both know that he could talk until he had no voice left and the Succubus would still ignore him.”

She let out a light laugh and nodded. “Which is something I actually quite like about the girl,” she said, amused.

“But… no.” She waved her hand in the air to dispel her humor and, as she did so, her face lost all charm and became hard and demanding. Her eyes roamed Lauren’s body, intrusive and curious. As they returned to the doctor’s face, The Morrigan seemed both repulsed and intrigued, quite unable to decide which feeling was the stronger.

“No,” she said again, her voice too intimate, too soft, too seductive to be anything but a lie. “She won’t do a thing that he asks. She’s a selfish, defiant little pest who has no respect for the world we allow her to live in.” Her voice was steely around the edges and Lauren shifted slightly. It might not be the most complimentary description of Bo; it might not even be the most accurate, but The Morrigan had a point. And for the Fae, it was a point of honor no matter what shade they chose.

“But she’s also important,” The Morrigan’s voice became brisk and she closed her eyes briefly, letting out an impatient sigh of acceptance. “Which makes you somewhat important,” she muttered, casting an errant finger in Lauren’s direction.

“So I have a feeling that, were you to ask her, there’s nothing that child wouldn’t do.”

Lauren looked away, flushing furiously as though all her feelings had been uncovered and laid out before her. She’d lived most of her life on the periphery of Fae life: observing, but never really a part of it. So she’d learned to fade into the background, to adopt subservience and wear a chain around her neck to show her loyalties.

Bo lived in the open. She’d hidden away the truest part of her for so long that now she walked in the Fae world, she allowed it to clothe her in an identity she no longer had to disguise. And that sense of freedom had made her bold. So it came as no surprise to Lauren that her relationship with Bo was exposed and examined with arbitrary eyes. Bo was unique among the Fae – unaligned and dangerous. She was also in a relationship with a human and that, Lauren knew, represented a greater danger for most Fae. Attitudes were changing, but not nearly fast enough to adopt leniency and tolerance for a Fae who had feelings towards a lesser being.

But it wasn’t her own shame that crept crimson up Lauren’s neck. It was the adopted shame of her new family – the larger part of a life made less ordinary. The shame of a people who had never quite accepted her, but at the same time, didn’t want to let her go completely. And their prejudices had become her guidelines, no matter how divisive and separatist they might be. Because, to stay in their world, what other choice did she have but to abide by their rules?

“Oh… you’re blushing!” The Morrigan leaned back in her chair, clapping her hands together delightedly. “How adorable!”

She turned, looking up at her lackey as he stared back with dull, Neanderthal eyes. “Humans wear everything on the outside,” she said in a low, confidential tone as though the bulky Fae were her best girlfriend. “Their skin is like a ridiculous emotional barometer. It makes them so deliciously easy to read.”

“Stop it!”

Lauren’s cry brought The Morrigan twisting round in her chair, brought a gasp from between scarlet lips, and brought a silence that boomed in the doctor’s ears in between the dizzying pound of heartbeats.

The Morrigan’s eyes widened slightly before narrowing almost to slits as she surveyed Lauren with interested eyes.

“Excuse me?” she said slowly, leaning forwards.

Lauren swallowed, her throat dry and sticky. “I said, stop it,” she replied, catching her breath. “Just… stop it.” She held up her hands and shook her head, shoulders bowing. It wasn’t trepidation that trembled her hands as she shoved them down by her sides. It was anger. In light of The Morrigan’s scorn and smug superiority, shame had become anger – now igniting a flame in her gaze and burning amber in her eyes.

“You just want to own her,” Lauren said, blinking away hot tears and getting to her feet, staring down at a stony-faced Morrigan. The large Fae behind The Morrigan’s chair lurched forwards, but his mistress stayed his progress with a hand in the air. Gulping back her rising fear, Lauren shook her head. “You don’t know a thing about her.”

“Perhaps not yet.” The Morrigan stood, smoothing her palms down her skirt and straightening, tugging at her immaculate jacket. “But I do know that I could end you where you stand, doctor. I don’t care if you are The Ash’s little pet.”

She stepped in closer to Lauren, smiling wolfishly at the way the human flinched and caught her breath. The Morrigan took another step and Lauren’s gaze fled away across the room rather than meet the inky depths of the Fae’s dark eyes. And then, another step, so that when The Morrigan leaned in and parted her lips, they were almost touching Lauren’s.

“I’m going to say this very clearly so you understand me,” the Fae murmured, her tone as intimate and soft as that of a lover. But each word carried with it the power of the Dark; all the terrible strength and horrifying beauty of it. Lauren stared so hard at the wall across the room that her vision blurred. But she knew that, were she to meet The Morrigan’s gaze and see that power unfettered and unleashed, then her body would succumb to fear.

“I don’t care if The Ash chooses to indulge you or give you ideas above your station,” The Morrigan said, leaning in so closely that her body almost brushed up against Lauren’s. “You humans are so egotistical sometimes; it’s really quite charming.”

But the smile that quirked The Morrigan’s mouth was hard, unrelenting. “You’re playing a very dangerous game,” she hissed with malicious and deadly intent. “But then, you already know that. Your little Succubus lover must really be something to make you think you can continue this way. Because you know that you can’t, don’t you, Dr Lewis?”

The strength Lauren had been lacking fled through her veins, running scared from the adrenalin that preceded it. It buzzed up into her brain and now she met The Morrigan’s eyes with a resolute expression that made the Fae blink in surprise.

“You won’t hurt me,” Lauren said in a husked voice.

“Oh?” The Morrigan’s eyebrows rose and she tilted her head curiously. “And why’s that?”

“Because if you do, she’ll never join the Dark. You need me. Alive.”

It hit home, then. How much Bo cared; what she cared about. And The Morrigan stepped backwards as it swept over her, widening her eyes and drawing blood from her face. A faint tremble of rage followed in its aftermath and The Morrigan stood tall and exhaled a slow, controlled breath to steady herself.

“I want the Succubus.” Her voice was clipped as she gazed at Lauren with open animosity. “Once this little drug thing is over, you’ll tell her to leave and join us. Do you understand? Can your ridiculously tiny human brain possibly manage to take in that information?” she snapped.

“I understand,” Lauren answered. “But she’ll never willingly choose you.” Her own defiance shocked her, made her catch her breath at the mere notion of pitting herself against both Dark and Light. She’d always seen the Fae world through their eyes – the clear delineations and easy choices. But now she was wandering through shades of gray that were quite bewildering.

The Morrigan, who had turned for the door, stopped abruptly. She turned, a bemused smile painted across her scarlet lips. Looking Lauren up and down in appraisal, she let out a huff of laughter. “Don’t be so sure, sweetie,” she purred. “She chose you, didn’t she? I’d say that joining the Dark would be trading up.”

Henchman by her side, The Morrigan clasped her hands together and smiled graciously. “Well,” she said briskly. “I’d like to say it’s been a pleasure but we both know that’s not even remotely true. Don’t test me, Dr Lewis. I’d hate to have to make another house call.”

She lifted one hand, waving her fingers in the air by means of farewell. Lauren stood tall, hands clenched down by her sides. It wasn’t until she heard the click of her front door as it shut that her legs gave way and she fell back onto the sofa, clutching her arms around her body.

Part 18

A pair of arms sliding around her waist and a mouth pressed against the back of her neck woke Lauren from a troubled sleep. She barely had chance to draw breath and turn around before Bo loomed into view above her.

She was naked. And Lauren could feel the heat of her skin as it pressed against her clothing.

Opening her mouth in enquiry, Lauren caught a glimpse of a flashing white smile before the Succubus’ mouth was on her own, tongue thrusting quite unceremoniously between her lips. There was a fervency to Bo’s touch that both thrilled and alarmed the doctor and, placing her hands onto Bo’s shoulders, she pushed with not a little force.

“What?” Bo frowned, lifting her head a few inches from Lauren’s and staring down. “What’s wrong?”

Despite herself, despite The Morrigan and absolutely despite Bo’s worrying absence of awareness, Lauren couldn’t help the laugh that burst from her mouth.

“What’s wrong?” she echoed, as Bo rolled her eyes and let out a sigh. “Bo, you stormed out of here earlier tonight like you were never coming back.”

“And yet, here I am,” Bo murmured, sliding a thigh over Lauren’s and squirming on top of the doctor. She dropped her head and nuzzled into the crook of Lauren’s neck, the tip of her tongue darting out to pepper the skin there with pin-prick awakenings of desire.

“I’ll always come back to you, Lauren.” Her voice was muffled against Lauren’s skin. Pausing, Bo lifted her head and gazed down into brown eyes that shone wet in the scant spears of moonlight coming through the window. Lauren didn’t understand – not really. Her scientist brain wouldn’t let her believe in the same blind faith that Bo had in the doctor. It required proof positive. From the moment she’d left the house, Bo had known that she would return. Not to prove her feelings to herself, but to prove them to Lauren.

By the time she’d fed from a random – and more than willing – Fae she’d picked up, Bo was certain that however many times she would leave and slam the door behind her, she would always come back. Always want to. Because even with the surge of energy flooding her veins with renewed life; even when she was as much her true self as she had ever been, Bo still wanted Lauren. Wanted the taste on her lips to be the one to which she was quite desperately addicted. Wanted the cold intimacy she had just experienced to be warmed by comfort and familiarity.

“I’ll always choose you,” she whispered. “Always.”

Dipping her head, she pressed her lips against Lauren’s and felt the other woman move underneath her. Sometimes, Bo was certain that it all came down to this – to this shifting and moving in an endless dance with one another. This was what brought her back; the bliss of slipping into an embrace with Lauren and the heady wave of desire that surged around them. She couldn’t fight it, much less wanted to.

Lauren made a noise of protestation, pushing at Bo’s shoulders again and moving a very reluctant Succubus away from her mouth.

“We need to talk,” she said in a low voice. “We really need to talk, Bo.”

“Mm,” Bo screwed her face up in a pretense of contemplation. Then she delicately wrapped her fingers around Lauren’s wrists and slowly detached the doctor’s hands from her own shoulders. Pressing Lauren’s hands against the pillow on either side of her head, she smiled wickedly. “Okay. Later. We’ll talk later. After.”

Lauren frowned, but made no attempt to extricate her hands from where they were pinned. “After… what?” she asked, even though the insistent pressing of Bo’s naked body against her own had already given her sufficient explanation.

“After this,” Bo whispered, lowering her head once more and seeking the hidden creases and lines of Lauren’s neck with her tongue. As she tasted the doctor’s skin, savoring it, she couldn’t help the noise of want that escaped her throat. Her mouth danced a trail of kisses up Lauren’s jaw until they were pressed against the doctor’s ear, warm and wet.

Lauren gasped. Bo’s body was designed for this, for seduction and want. It was inherent in her abilities and the way she survived. All the texts that she’d read about Succubae had told her so. But facts and science could never hope to explain the response of her own body to Bo; to the sensation of the mouth against her ear or the way her pulse clattered unreasonably fast inside her head and chest. No; science couldn’t possibly even begin to theorize why this beautiful creature’s touch was unlike any other. And how Lauren, of all people, could have fallen so hard and so fast for the irrational temptations of desire.

Bo’s fingers wrapped firmly around Lauren’s wrist, lifting it from the pillow and plunging it down between their bodies. As the doctor’s fingers scraped over velvet-soft skin, down over stomach muscles that were taut and strong, the Succubus let out a moan of utter joy at the contact.

“More than anyone,” she hissed a rasp of pleasure into Lauren’s ear. “I’ll always come back to you. Touch me. Feel it.”

Lauren’s fingers paused over the sparse sprinkling of hairs between Bo’s legs before the Succubus shifted, lifting her hips and guiding Lauren’s hand lower. Rising, Bo plunged Lauren’s fingers into herself and swayed as they slid into flesh that was burning with humid want. She sucked in a breath as she let go of Lauren’s hand, feeling the doctor move her arm and push her fingers in deeper. Then she parted her lips and sighed, a ragged, broken sound that poured a musky warmth over Lauren’s ear.

“I love you,” Bo said, her voice a grated sound of pained desire. “I love this.” Her hips circled around Lauren’s fingers and both women let out a stray moan of acquiescent longing.

Lauren’s thumb slid through sticky wetness until it bumped over Bo’s clitoris and she couldn’t resist a flash of conceit as the Succubus cried out and jerked her hips backwards at the sudden overwhelming sensation. Bo’s head flew back, eyes wide and she stared down at Lauren.

“It’s only you, you know,” she said in a strained tone as Lauren’s fingers pushed into slippery, pliant folds of flesh between her legs. “Only you make me feel like this.” She parted her legs further, straddling Lauren’s hips to allow the fingers inside her to sink deeper. And she, like a column of flesh, swirled around them, moving upwards so that the bedclothes fell away behind her and she was exposed to the cool air of the bedroom.

Lauren’s eyes were transfixed on the form and beauty of Bo’s naked form. Her gaze trailed hungrily over the defined and impossibly perfect musculature that insinuated itself in a provocative enticement of feminine dips and curves. Lauren often wondered if she was still under Bo’s spell – if she had been bewitched from the first time Bo had used her abilities, so long ago. Because wanting someone this much was alien to her. Craving them, needing them in the way she did Bo was foreign and surprised her every time she felt it.

And, every time she felt it, she knew she was powerless to resist. The heaviness around her heart slid away and was replaced by a primal need to touch, feel, possess. She watched as Bo leaned back, her throat laid bare to the night air, the Succubus’ fingers sliding over her own nipples and teasing them, pinching them into hard peaks.

Lauren knew this wantonness. Understood it. Was fascinated by it. And in the same moment that her scientific brain rationalized the giddy after-effects of a feed and her heart thumped wildly in abject disappointment, the greater part of Lauren’s self desperately wanted to lose herself in it and be consumed by the lust soaking her fingers and resonating between her own thighs.

“You fed.”

Her voice sounded harder than she’d expected. A statement, not a question. A finality of this coupling that she had reckoned with over the last few months. She would never find peace with it – with the subtle changes in the texture of Bo’s mouth on her own, or the last vestiges of an essence that didn’t belong to either of them. It was intrusive, pushing its way between them like an errant interloper.

But seeing the truest, most fundamental part of Bo and knowing that it she was its sole witness engulfed Lauren’s doubts and fears, taking them from this moment and allowing only emotion to take their place. With her free hand, Lauren placed her palm onto Bo’s stomach, fingers splaying out across hot skin as her hand slid over Bo’s body.

The Succubus chuckled: a rich, throaty sound. Lifting her head, she gazed down at Lauren and narrowed her eyes, trying to read the expression on shadowed features.

“I did,” she answered. Shifting, she pushed herself down onto Lauren’s fingers and hissed out an appreciative sigh between her teeth. Her hand drifted down the front of her body until it met Lauren’s and slid over it with covetous intent.

“That first taste of someone… when you feel their energy slipping inside you,” Bo groaned as she circled her hips. “It’s like… ” she gasped as Lauren’s fingers twitched, deep inside her.

“It’s so… fucking… good,” Bo heaved out the words in time with thrusts of her hips even as she felt Lauren’s touch fill with hesitancy and doubt. Drawing in a deep breath, she met the doctor’s eyes and blinked, a faint gleam of blue flaring in her gaze for a brief second.

“And then all I want is you,” she said quietly, seeing her words flurry through brown eyes and across the planes of a face that melted into relief.

“They feed my hunger,” Bo whispered. “But you… ” Her teeth clutched at her lower lip as Lauren pushed upwards with her hips, driving her fingers inside the Succubus up to the knuckle. Bo let out a strangled moan as Lauren’s thumbnail scraped over the impossibly sensitive surface of her clitoris, white-hot sensation scorching up and down her body with an almost malicious abandon.

“What?” Lauren’s voice was barely audible. “What about me?”

Bo’s lips twitched into a smile. She took Lauren’s hand from her stomach, tangling their fingers as she pushed it back onto the pillow once more. Then she leaned down, slowly lowering her body onto the doctor’s inch by aching inch. Their mouths almost touching, Bo’s eyelids fluttered shut momentarily, teeth catching at her lower lip and sinking into the swollen flesh.

Opening her eyes, Bo let out a low sigh of glorious surfeit. “Without you I’d starve.”

She caught Lauren’s mouth in her own for a brief kiss before her fingers tightened their hold on the doctor’s hand. Half-closing her eyes, Bo let out long breath that drifted towards Lauren’s parted, hungry lips. Tendrils of light glimmered as they fell from Bo’s mouth, twisting and winding around one another into a stream of pure life that Lauren inhaled.

Eyes widening, she clutched at Bo’s hand where it pressed her own onto the pillow.

“What… what are you doing?” she gasped.

“I don’t know yet,” Bo whispered. “Just let me.”

This time, the light was brighter and more intense. This time, Lauren opened her mouth and inhaled deeply, closing her eyes. This time, she had no hesitation, no qualms. Because as the first strands of energy streamed down her throat to dissipate with a cascade of power and sensation, Lauren was filled with emotion. Everything she’d ever felt rushed into her chest, crowding it with a myriad of wants and needs that shoved and jostled against one another for prominence. It was almost too much to bear; more than she could even comprehend, let alone define.

And then…

Then came the rush. A flood of potency so pure and distilled that it dizzied her head and brought a shuddering moan from her mouth. Like a tidal wave of light, it fled through every part of her body, every cell awakening and pounding with the sheer strength of it. It drowned all the confusions and the consequences; it suffocated them and banished them to murky depths where light never shone.

Drifting towards the surface, Lauren was only aware of feeling. Of the grip on her hand and how Bo’s fingers were flexing and unflexing in a tiny, pulsing rhythm. Of the throbbing around her fingers, seared by the hot, wet flesh of Bo’s body. And of the surging of her own heart, oceans crashing in her ears as blood tumbled like a torrent through her veins.

Tearing her hand from Bo’s grip, Lauren clutched at the Succubus, wrapping her free arm around Bo and twisting as she did so. Bo fell awkwardly and let out a grunt of surprise as she found herself on her back, staring up as Lauren leant over her. Blonde hair fell against her skin, one of Lauren’s knees pushed between her own. And the fingers that were inside her began to turn and move, thrusting in and out of her with an achingly slippery friction.

Bo’s hips moved up to slam against them, spreading her legs wider, digging her heels into the bed. Teeth closed around one of her nipples and sent ripples of such exquisite pain through her body that Bo let out a sharp cry and shoved her hand into Lauren’s hair. Bunching it in her fist, she heard the groan of pleasure from the other woman, felt it humming over her skin. Lauren’s teeth tugged and pulled at Bo’s nipple with what felt like razor-keen edges, teasing and commanding it to a hard point of craving.

“Please… ” Bo muttered, fingernails scraping over Lauren’s scalp. “Please… Lauren… please… ”

Lauren’s fingers curled, the tips pressing into the luxurious flesh beneath them. She let out a groan of satisfaction as Bo bucked under her and cried out again. The sound washed over her, hardening her touch, increasing her pace. And she couldn’t help lifting her head to gaze up at Bo’s features: eyes tight shut, lips parted, a faint sheen of perspiration on her brow.

Arching her back, Bo gasped for air. As the first wave of release hit her, she reached out, her hands sliding around Lauren’s back. When she began to shudder and drown in it, she felt Lauren’s arm around her, pulling her close, holding her steady. Trembling, Bo felt lips brush over her shoulder and heard Lauren say her name in a deep tone of longing.

She gulped in lungfuls of air as she rushed towards the precipice, hurtling towards the moment when she froze, poised for a split second on the edge. Exhilaration sped through her body and whirled in her chest as she fell, a long, keening wail of plaintive triumph escaping her mouth. And at the end, as her body dropped into submission and the trembling faded to a dull buzz, Lauren was there to catch her.

Part 19

Two days later, another dead Light Fae was found in a parking lot behind County Hall. The district police ruled it as a suicide, having found faint track marks on the victim’s arms. A trained eye might have questioned the fact that those track marks weren’t recent, or that the body displayed none of the most obvious signs of a drug-related death. But the spate of bodies over the last weeks and months that showed no sign of slowing any time soon had begun to cause stirrings among the upper echelons in the Homicide Department. An overdose, case closed and a body sent off to the Fae labs under the guise of the morgue seemed like the best way to placate those stirrings and quiet any growing unrest.

At least, for the time being.

Dyson closed the file on the dead Fae and dropped it onto his desk, eyeing it wearily before lifting a hand to rub at his face. He wasn’t sure what disgusted him more: that Light Fae were being killed by something as ordinary and commonplace as a drug, or that this particular Fae had hidden his predilections under a well-liked and very humdrum existence. It wasn’t the fact that the Fae had lied to humans; after all, encouraging them to wallow in their own ignorance was something that most Fae learned as children. What saddened Dyson was the fact that this Fae had lied to his own people – to his loved ones.

The detective hated drugs. He’d seen how they splintered the human community around him, how dealers seemed to anticipate the cops’ every move and stay one step ahead of them. The day they closed down one dealer’s operation, another one would spring up less than 24 hours later to take its place.

Fae had always looked down on human society, seeing in it only the old ways of atavism and conquest. It didn’t much matter what pretty labels you chose to put on it, humanity was in its infancy. They were incapable of changing until they were wise enough to recognize the need for change. The Fae had been like that, long ago: a primal, unsophisticated species who almost destroyed themselves through enmity.

And, like the Fae, humans had evolved into smarter versions of themselves. With knowledge came ability; with ability came power; with power came the understanding of how to use it for gain and greed. And the human world had grown into an avaricious, barbaric place where personal pleasure reigned above all. The creation and sale of drugs had become an integral part of their economy, sustaining it through all peaks and troughs. The worse a human’s life got, the more they wanted to escape from it. Knowledge and ability told them how.

But knowledge turned to wisdom eventually, Dyson reminded himself with a resigned grunt. It had done for the Fae, and they’d entered an enlightened period of their existence that sought to eradicate mere knowledge and replace it with experience. It was why they lived among humans and not with them. Because human experience was so short and inconsequential that it threatened to taint the Fae with its ugly brutishness and return it to the conflicted primordial mire from which they’d emerged.

Perhaps it already had, he thought, glancing at the file on his desk. Parts of his world had resisted change. If the Red Caps were capable of continuing to operate in Fae society, then maybe they were capable of selling drugs in it, too. The Morrigan would deny any and all association with them, but Dyson knew that her claim of ignorance and refusal to take control over them was complicit inactivity.

He leaned back in his chair, stretching out his long legs beneath the desk. The Light and the Dark had always co-existed in an uneasy truce. And they’d fought battles against one another, but not a war. Not for a long time. But times were changing, despite efforts to prevent them from doing just that.

The Fae didn’t need a reason to go to war. They just needed an excuse.

A troubled expression crept over his face as he mulled over the facts. Five dead Fae was hardly a massacre. But it was a genius way to exploit cracks in the Light community. Something as taboo and yet innocuous as drugs was indiscriminate in demand. Just like in the human world, an addict could come in all shapes, sizes and creeds. All with an unquenchable thirst for escape.

But if that was true, and if Light Fae had been actively seeking some sort of sedated deliverance, then what did that say about the Light? Dyson had always struggled with The Ash’s leadership, but had pledged himself to the Light and intended to prove his loyalties should it come to war. Even so, he couldn’t help an unsettling thought that prickled at the back of his mind and gave him cause for suspicion. The dead Light Fae had wanted the high; a euphoric sense of independence and invulnerability. But it wasn’t that alone that troubled Dyson. It was why they had wanted it.

Because for every dead Fae that was killed by the drug, a clear message was being sent to The Ash. And with it, a ticking clock of ever-decreasing time.

Darting forwards and grabbing his phone, Dyson punched in a number and impatiently waited as the line connected and a tone sounded in his ear. The moment that the other caller picked up, Dyson didn’t even let them speak.

“Lauren?” he growled. “We got another one.”

***

Bo was sifting through some of the research that Lauren had given her. At first, the doctor had demurred and stuttered something about Bo not needing to know all the scientific details. But that had only made the Succubus even more determined to read them, and it had been with some reluctance that Lauren handed over the dossier she’d been putting together.

A lot of it was now spread over Bo’s coffee table and she pored over it, squinting at charts and shoving one set of results aside in order to look at another underneath it. She puffed out her cheeks. They looked exactly the same and, if it hadn’t been for the page numbers and color-coded organization of the entire file, Bo might have thought that Lauren had given her duplicates.

Sighing, Bo picked up one of the autopsy reports and leaned back on the couch. At least that was in English. Flipping the first page, she lifted her feet and planted her heels firmly onto the coffee table, relaxing a little as her eyes moved across the carefully printed lines of the report.

A paragraph in, she smiled and let out a tiny laugh. She lifted her thumb nail to her mouth and nibbled gently on it before reading something else that brought a second smile to her lips and a single shake of her head. Shoulders sinking back onto the sofa, Bo made herself more comfortable and continued to read.

She was almost halfway through when the front door opened and slammed loudly behind a figure who rushed across the room. Reaching the sofa, Kenzi stopped by Bo’s legs and composed herself, putting her hands palm up in the air for effect.

“Okay,” she finally said in a voice brimming with excitement. “You are gonna love me.”

Amused, Bo shrugged and blinked at Kenzi. “I already love you, you tool,” she responded with a smirk.

“More!” Kenzi threw her hands up in the air. “You’re gonna love me more, I mean.”

“Ooh,” Bo placed the autopsy report to one side and pushed on the couch, lifting herself up a little. She wiggled her eyebrows at Kenzi and grinned. “Like, in a prison way?” she asked. “Because I’m all in for some role play.”

The look of distaste crossing Kenzi’s features made Bo burst out laughing and she clutched an arm to her stomach. “Seriously, Kenz,” she shook her head. “Sometimes I think you’re the only person in the world who’s not remotely attracted to me.”

The girl waved her hands in the air, her face screwed into lines of horror at the mere suggestion. “Ew,” she squeaked. “I mean, Bo, I love ya. And I’m willing to admit that you’re slightly better than average looking.” She winked as Bo’s mouth fell open in affront and the diminutive girl reacquired a little of her natural swagger.

“But you and me?” Kenzi’s finger drifted back and forth in the air between them. “Ew.” She gagged and shoved a fingertip towards her mouth.

“Fine,” Bo feigned insult and picked up the sheaf of papers by her side. “Now you’ve broken my heart and told me I’m only slightly better than average looking,” she threw the final words at Kenzi with an accusatory jut of her chin. “I’m going to get back to Lauren’s autopsy report.”

She held the report up in front of her and, before Kenzi could protest, had let out another delighted laugh.

“Since when did autopsies get written by Comedy Central?” Kenzi clambered onto the sofa beside Bo, peering over the Succubus’ shoulder at the printed sheet.

“No, it’s not that,” Bo frowned good-naturedly and pushed at Kenzi with her shoulder. “Listen to this.” She cleared her throat and paused for a second.

“This 86 year-old female Banshee was reportedly found in the downtown area,” she read aloud before turning to Kenzi with a grin.

Kenzi was less than impressed. She frowned, shaking her head. “And?” she asked, staring at Bo with a faint air of annoyance.

“An 86 year-old Banshee?” Bo’s voice rose incredulously. “Lauren gets to see this shit all the time and she writes about it,” she shook the report so that the papers ruffled together, “like it’s nothing out of the ordinary. That’s so very her.” She smiled affectionately and Kenzi resisted the urge to gag again. “Most humans would consider their tiny minds blown. But not Lauren,” she added, almost proudly.

“It’s an autopsy report, Bo.” Kenzi rolled her eyes and sighed. “They’re all like that. What is this stuff, anyway?” She glanced at the papers strewn liberally across the coffee table and frowned.

“Lauren’s research,” Bo answered. “I’m just being thorough,” she explained. “I want to check we didn’t miss anything.”

“Isn’t that why we have her around in the first place?” Kenzi mused almost to herself as she cast a cursory eye over the various charts and findings on the table.

“Well,” Bo said rather sheepishly. “I kind of got the impression that Lauren didn’t think I’d understand it. So I thought I’d show her, right?” She even went so far as thrusting a defiant fist in the air which Kenzi ignored as she picked at the papers on the table.

“Well it is kind of a brains and brawn thing with you two,” Kenzi said, before shrinking under the hard gaze that Bo directed towards her. “What?” she exclaimed. “I wouldn’t be much of a BFF if I didn’t tell the truth now, would I?” The wicked grin that spread across her mouth elicited a similar, begrudging response on Bo’s lips and the Succubus glowered, but not without some amusement.

“So do you?”

“Do I what?” Bo shook her head.

“Do you understand it?” Kenzi’s eyes gleamed as she looked curiously at Bo.

“Of course!” Bo’s instant response was too confident and too quick to be anything other than unconvincing, and as her bright expression fell, she let out a grumbling sigh. “Well, not really,” she admitted, her chin dropping onto her chest.

Kenzi couldn’t resist a blurt of triumphant laughter and Bo turned to her, wide-eyed and defensive. “Some of it, I do!” the Succubus protested. “The uh… the not-science parts. And this part!” She held up the report in her hand like it was some sort of trophy. “I understand this part,” she repeated firmly with a nod.

Crumpling into a groaning heap beside the Succubus, Kenzi frowned up at Bo and folded her arms over her chest.

“Which you sit giggling over because your girlfriend is soooo hot and totally smart, right?” Kenzi did an appropriate imitation of a brainless valley girl before pursing her lips in amused derision. “Oh yeah, that’s really showing her.”

“Oh shush,” Bo admonished with a self-conscious grin. “Listen to this bit. ‘External examination shows a well-developed Banshee with no significant findings except contusions to the head sustained from a blunt object.’”

Kenzi was silent, staring at Bo with undisguised incredulity. Then she lifted her hands and shrugged. “It’s an autopsy!” she insisted. “The exact same as all the others we’ve ever read!”

Bo let the report drop onto her lap and eyed Kenzi with suspicion. She could hear Lauren’s deliberate cadence in every line, each word chosen with such careful specificity that sometimes Bo wondered if Lauren had some kind of prescient plan. When Bo read the report, she heard the tone that the doctor used in the lab; her confidence and self-assured appraisal and conclusions. It was the same deliberate manner with which Lauren had first examined her. The same part of the doctor that Bo had learned to rely on, even trust.

Glancing at Kenzi, she flushed slightly. Of course the girl couldn’t understand; she didn’t know Lauren the way Bo did. And never would. Bo smiled again, secretly, to herself. Nobody ever would.

“Okay, forget it,” she sighed at the girl, who nodded brightly. “So what have you got to tell me and why am I going to declare undying love for you because of it?”

Kenzi sat up straight, clasping her hands together in front of her chest for a moment. “I’ve been doing a bit of background work on those dead Fae,” she began, almost breathless in her enthusiasm. “I talked to a few people, called in a few favors.” She nodded, pride beaming from her face.

“I thought Dyson already did that,” Bo said, nonplussed.

“He never talked to the people I did. Or never asked the right questions,” Kenzi waved a hand in the air dismissively. “Otherwise he’d have known about all the crap that went down with those Fae before they died.”

“All what crap?”

“Exactly!” Kenzi lifted a finger in the air with a flourish. “Turns out Kendra wasn’t the only one on the wrong side of a Fae hissy fit.”

The report on Bo’s lap slid to the floor as she tugged her boots from the coffee table and turned, interest piqued.

“They got violent?” the Succubus asked in a hushed voice.

“Violent, mean, bitchy.” Kenzi counted off on her fingers. “Just… ” she pressed her lips together and shook her head in disapproval, “… bad, all round. And these are people that everyone had something nice to say about, remember?”

Bo nodded. She did. The victims had all been uniquely unremarkable. But the one thing they’d all had in common was that everyone interviewed had said nothing but positive things. That and the fact that they had all taken the same drug.

“The drugs?” she asked, the thought flying from her lips almost as quickly as it had entered her head.

“That’s what I thought,” Kenzi agreed, nodding solemnly. “Has to be. And whatever crap they’re cutting it with is making Light Fae go crazy.”

Bo jerked to life, bending to gather up the report and begin stacking it with the others, grabbing pages from across the table top.

“What are you doing?” Kenzi asked, leaning forwards.

“Taking this back to Lauren,” Bo said over her shoulder. “Getting her to explain it to us.” She paused for a moment before turning to grin at Kenzi.

“She’s the brains, after all. And if anyone’s going to be able to figure out what the hell this drug does to Fae, it’s going to be her.”

Part 20

The body lay to one side of the room shrouded in the pristine white sheet that reflected the harsh lights overhead. Lauren finished filling in the form attached to her clipboard and then hooked it over the end of the gurney, clicking the pen in her hand before shoving it into the breast pocket of her lab coat.

Turning, she let out a sigh and returned to the relative comfort of her desk, dropping into the seat with a heavy heart. Another victim; another mystery. And, no doubt, another set of DNA results that showed mutation. Lauren had always been so good at doing this. She’d always brought successes and solutions to The Ash basking in his good favor as a result. It was why he indulged her as far as he did, after all.

She’d told him about The Morrigan’s impromptu visit, despite her initial intention not to do so. But he’d listened with increasing unrest as she told him of The Morrigan’s intent, not to mention her threats. By the time she’d finished, he had merely nodded abruptly, lips in a hard line of anger.

The only time he’d spoken to her since had been to remind her that time was of the essence; that his patience wouldn’t last forever. The disappointment in his eyes was what she had remembered, though.

Today’s victim hadn’t helped assuage that feeling. Nor had it helped make her feel any less troubled about everything else, either.

Her fingers reached up to toy with the pendant around her neck. As a single fingertip traced the intricately formed metal, she couldn’t help wondering at how all the pieces of her life chose now to crash into one another. She often felt as though she was lying in the wreckage of some gruesome collision, too injured to move, too terrified of slipping away.

She glanced sideways at the gurney across the room. Even the one thing that had always offered her succor was now elusive and distant. It felt wrong to hope that the next dead Fae might be the one to break the stalemate of her research.

Lauren let out a huff of mirthless laughter. Stalemate suggested that she might have a plan. But this case wasn’t two adversaries plotting and planning against one another. It was more like a dead end.

Her gaze flickering towards the gurney again she smiled grimly. A very dead end.

The sound of her name came from outside the doorway, echoing along the corridor and jerking Lauren up in her seat. Spinning around on the chair, she caught sight of Bo flying into the lab, Kenzi at her heels. Bo was hugging the huge file Lauren had given her to her chest, relinquishing it only to allow it to thud onto Lauren’s desk.

“I need you to tell me more about the drug,” she said, panting a little.

Resisting the urge to smile, Lauren merely looked up at Bo with an innocent gaze before glancing down at the dossier containing her research.

“I can’t tell you much more than what’s already in here.” She reached out, tapped the file with a single fingertip.

“But you can do it in words she might actually understand,” Kenzi interjected, peering around from behind Bo. She received a heated glare from the Succubus for her pains, but shrugged it off, muttering something to herself about the truth hurting.

Bo pointedly ignored Kenzi, turning her shoulder towards the girl and folding her arms, looking down at Lauren with somewhat haughty eyes. “I didn’t have time to read it all,” she explained, whilst Kenzi let out a snort of laughter somewhere behind her.

Lauren’s mouth twitched, but she had the good sense not to compound Bo’s growing ire with anything other than a curt nod of her head. Turning to her computer, she tapped in a few commands and brought up the images that she’d previously displayed to The Ash and Dyson. Bo bent, one of her arms sliding across the back of Lauren’s chair, head pushed close to the doctor’s.

“Well,” Lauren began, all professionalism and expertise. “We ran the DNA from the victims through some tests and came up with this.” She pointed at the screen and glanced at Bo. The Succubus was nonplussed and grimaced before turning to Lauren, a helpless expression in her dark eyes.

“Which is… ?”

“Unraveled DNA,” Lauren said shortly, with a faint sigh of dissatisfaction. “It’s a mutation of the host’s DNA strings that breaks them apart. It changes them into… into something different. Something harmful.”

“Did the drug do that?” Kenzi asked, moving forwards to look over Bo’s shoulder at the computer screen.

“I can’t be certain,” Lauren answered. “But it’s the only common factor between all the victims so I’m taking that as a sign that yes, it did. But I’ve never heard of a drug that can change DNA.”

“Not even Fae drugs?” Kenzi enquired, remembering Trick’s rather lurid allusions to mystical narcotics in the bar.

Letting out a faint sound of amusement, Lauren leaned back in her chair and looked up at the two women in front of her. “Not even Fae drugs,” she confirmed. “Not permanently and definitely not like this.” She cast a cursory hand towards the computer screen. “If this drug is responsible for a change in their genetic makeup, then it doesn’t fit the composition of anything I’ve ever seen or heard of before. Fae drugs – at least, the mystical kind – were generally created for short-term effect. Like most narcotics, they wore off after a while. But this… ”

“This makes it so they can’t change back, right?” Bo glowered at the computer screen as though Lauren’s findings were the source of her confusion.

“Broadly speaking, yeah,” Lauren nodded.

“Well, that fits with the information you got,” Bo said to Kenzi, who nodded with wide eyes of comprehension.

“Information?” Lauren frowned, looking between the two women, her interest piqued.

Bo stood back, folding her arms over her chest again and pursed her lips. “Kenzi found out that all these victims weren’t so nice once they’d taken that drug,” she stated. “And I don’t mean the usual whacked out stuff, either,” she added as Lauren’s mouth opened to refute her claim.

“They did some bad shit,” Kenzi explained with a firm nod.

“Hm,” Lauren swung around and cast her eyes over the DNA results on her computer screen again. “Because most drug users are such pleasant people,” she murmured.

“Okay,” Bo held up her hand. “These people, though, they were. Pleasant, I mean. Everyone liked them. Nobody said anything bad about them, right?”

Lauren nodded silently.

“So,” Bo continued, “why did Shay Nicholls beat up Kendra for no good reason? She told us he was her friend.”

“She also told you she didn’t know who was making the drug, which was a lie.” Lauren’s tone held a hint of disbelief and Bo straightened, drawing herself up to her full height. Kendra might not have been what Lauren would call a reliable source, but the doctor hadn’t seen the pain on the girl’s face, or the squalor in which she lived. Lauren hadn’t seen the terror in Kendra’s eyes when she was asked about the drugs that she sold, or where they came from.

“She wasn’t faking the bruises on her face.” Kenzi’s abrupt tone brought two pairs of eyes to rest on her features. The girl shifted uncomfortably and shoved her hands into the pockets of her pants.

“Which could have been from anyone, considering the company she kept.” Lauren was resolute in doubt. “Look,” Lauren said, a little more kindly, “until we can make a connection between the victims’ behavior and this drug, there’s not really much more I can tell you about Light Fae going bad.” A tiny smile of consolation spread across her lips but failed to reach her eyes. Catching sight of one of the slides on her computer screen, she gestured at it.

“I mean,” she said almost to herself, “Roxana Strong was a teacher. She was one of the oldest and most respected members of her clan.” She looked up at Bo and Kenzi, her face bearing traces of the mystifying and nonsensical conclusions that they had tried to give her. “I’m still trying to come to terms with the fact that someone like her used drugs.”

Kenzi rolled her eyes and let out a short noise of incredulity. “Seriously, Doc,” she said. “You really need to get out more.”

Lauren’s gaze narrowed but she said nothing, instead shaking her head and turning back to her computer screen. She’d met Roxana Strong once at a gathering The Ash organized not long after Lauren had begun working for him. Roxana clung to tradition and taught the young members of her clan what it was to be Fae. She nurtured their identity and encouraged them to embrace it. Lauren remembered how Roxana had eyed her with some suspicion, talked to her with dubious caution and fixed her with an unwaveringly judgmental gaze throughout Lauren’s stuttering attempts to impress.

“She knew The Ash,” she murmured, half to herself. Then, looking up at Bo with wide eyes, she shook her head. “She was a teacher,” she said.

“A teacher who turned her own sister into a mental case,” Kenzi snorted dismissively. A pair of surprised brown eyes turned on her face and she shrugged. “That Fae you’re defending used to scream at her sister almost every night,” she added. “The guy next door could hear her crying every day.”

“What?” Lauren frowned. “And why didn’t we hear about it? Why didn’t her sister say anything when Roxana was found?”

“From what the guy next door said, old Roxana’s sister was just glad it was all over. Wanted to move on and forget it.”

Lauren’s frown deepened and she shook her head again. “That’s just… that’s supposition,” she muttered. “Hardly proof positive of going bad,” she emphasized her final word with a deliberate manner.

“Dmina Atar,” Bo spoke, bringing Lauren’s gaze to rest on her features. “Lawyer, right?” As Lauren nodded, Bo tilted her head onto one side and frowned as she recalled what Kenzi had discovered. “Killed three humans.”

“Fae sometimes kill humans,” Lauren said quietly. She blinked into Bo’s gaze. “It happens, Bo.”

“She tore them apart, Lauren.” Bo’s voice was muted into a solemn tone. “For sport.”

“How do you know all this?” Lauren’s voice was hushed, realization dawning over the planes of her face like a sunrise.

“Her boyfriend,” Kenzi said from beside Bo. “She told him all about it. Boasted to him, actually. He was too scared to say anything to Dyson in case the cops got all over it. Or in case your guys did,” she nodded at Lauren, her meaning clear.

“And Ford Dane,” Bo said and then stopped, her lips pressing together into a hard line. “His wife was pregnant and he beat her and she… ” Her voice trailed away and she didn’t fail to notice how Lauren’s gaze flickered, registering both comprehension and disgust.

“And Dyson didn’t know any of this?” Lauren questioned, aghast. The dual shaking of heads that gave her a silent reply made her puff out her cheeks, a sigh trailing from between her lips as she leaned back in her chair.

Bo shifted slightly, her posture becoming almost defensive. “Humans aren’t the only ones who like to hide the bad things they do,” she said slowly. Lauren’s gaze met her own and she shrugged. “They were good people, Lauren. And then, suddenly, they weren’t. The only thing that connects them is this drug.” She gestured carelessly towards the computer screen and Lauren’s head dropped onto her chest, defeated.

“Haven’t you found anything?” Bo persisted, as the doctor cast a rueful glare at the DNA images on the screen and shook her head.

“I’d need a sample,” Lauren said suddenly. “A – a live sample. The drug almost completely disappears once the host dies and I can’t… I can’t analyze it properly to find out what’s in it.” The strain in her voice made it clipped, abrupt.

“Kendra.”

A pair of brown eyes widened and fixed themselves upon the determined features of the Succubus. Biting at her lip, troubled, Lauren shook her head.

“Bo, I don’t know if… I mean, The Ash – “

“Really doesn’t have a leg to stand on,” Kenzi butted in, blinking as she blatantly stated the obvious. “You either let us get it from Kendra or your morgue is gonna get a lot more crowded.”

Lauren’s eyes were drawn back to her computer screen for a moment and she stared at the unraveled strands of DNA as though they could give her the answer she needed. Finally, she glanced up at Bo and nodded sharply, giving her approval.

Part 21

Dyson looked between Lauren and The Ash before he threw back his head and roared with laughter. Two pairs of astonished eyes gazed at him as he shook his head and his mirth subsided to a throaty chuckle.

“I’m sorry,” he rumbled, holding up a hand and nodding in Lauren’s direction. “I know we’re on the clock with this drug case but don’t you think this is less than helpful?” His eyebrows rose as Lauren’s mouth formed a hard line of offense and she swallowed the words that sprang to her lips. Arguing with Dyson wouldn’t do any good. Even if he was wrong. She fervently hoped that he was, and that Bo and Kenzi hadn’t gone off on a fool’s errand.

“Just because you didn’t get the information doesn’t mean it’s not helpful,” Lauren muttered.

“I’ve been a cop longer than you’ve been alive,” Dyson intoned, lifting his chin scornfully. “You think I’d have missed something like a Fae who beats his wife, or… or three human deaths? Come on,” he grunted, looking to The Ash for consolidation.

“The reason they didn’t find those human bodies is because there was nothing left to find.” Lauren said quietly. “She tore them apart, Dyson.”

The detective pursed his lips and shook his head doubtfully. He remembered Dmina Atar’s boyfriend, how he had insisted on coming to the police station after her death. He’d seemed distracted, but the cop had merely assumed that it was grief making him hesitant, not something altogether more sinister.

“If this is true,” The Ash spoke for the first time, “then these reckless acts present a larger problem than the death of Light Fae.” He glanced at Dyson and blinked thoughtfully. “The First Rule must be upheld. At any cost,” he added, as the detective drew a short breath.

“Is it possible?” The Ash turned to Lauren and gestured at her desk. “Could this drug fundamentally affect behavior?”

She blinked rapidly, going over the research results again and again in her mind. “The changes in DNA might suggest some sort of variant,” she finally said slowly. “Something introduced to the DNA that inhibits natural reproduction. But without full analysis, I can only make a guess, at best.”

“That’s not good enough,” The Ash said sharply, perhaps more so than he’d intended from the way Lauren shrank from him, taking a step backwards. For a moment, he paused, closing his eyes briefly as he lost himself in thought. Then, drawing himself up to his full height, he fixed Lauren with a gaze as imperious as his tone.

“I don’t want any of our people finding out about this,” he ordered. “It could be extraordinarily detrimental to our community.” His tone became graveled as a muscle ticked along his jaw and Lauren glanced at Dyson; The Ash rarely became frayed around the edges, but right now it looked as though he was struggling for control.

In every way.

“Keep your Succubus in check,” he threw at Lauren, who frowned, but said nothing. It was the stick he chose to beat her with each and every time he felt his grasp on power slipping. The Ash wasn’t the sort of being who panicked and, even if he did, he rarely showed it. But there was a taut pull to his mouth and a faint sheen on his brow that made the doctor wonder if The Ash wasn’t panicking just a little bit right now.

“Did you do it?”

A cry, heightened in anger, came at the small group as they stood near Lauren’s desk. Bo marched across the lab, face like thunder and brows drawn together over dark eyes as she approached The Ash.

“Well?” She finally slowed and came to a halt directly in front of him, shoulders squared like a prizefighter.

The Ash quirked an eyebrow and looked her up and down, taking just enough time to incense Bo into a quiver of rage. Clasping his hands behind his back, The Ash couldn’t resist a smile and glanced at Lauren.

“And what is it I’m supposed to have done, child?” he asked graciously.

Bo shook her head and by her sides, her fists clenched with intent. She glared at Lauren, who had adopted her familiar stance of subservience by her master; head bowed, hands joined together as though in penitence. Seeing it only infuriated Bo all the more – but whether she was angry at The Ash or Lauren, she wasn’t sure.

“Kenzi and I went back to see Kendra,” Bo stated, spinning around to stare at Dyson momentarily. “And the place was trashed,” she added, her gaze returning to set itself firmly on The Ash’s emotionless countenance.

He pursed his lips thoughtfully. “It’s a drugs den. I hear these things happen.”

“No,” Bo let out a harsh, mirthless laugh and shook her head again. “No… ”

She lifted a hand, pointing at the Fae with accusatory jabs. “It’s not a coincidence that the place gets ripped to shreds a few days after I tell you about it. I know you.” The Ash’s eyebrows lifted in challenge, in surprise at her audacity, but he remained silent as Bo continued. “You can’t bear it that your people want to feel something other than what you allow them to, can you? But you gotta be asking yourself if it’s being Fae they want to escape,” she paused, the corners of her mouth turning down as she looked at The Ash in distaste, “or if it’s you.”

“Bo!” Lauren’s hushed, appalled tone pierced the fog of anger that surrounded the Succubus.

Looking at the doctor, Bo saw Lauren’s wide eyes, open mouth. It was shocking. Disappointing. Bo’s heart sank as she saw the expression of horror on Lauren’s face; it sank even more as she observed the gleaming hardness in The Ash’s eyes.

Pulling back her finger, Bo realized it was shaking and folded her hand into a fist, plunging it down by her side once more. She watched, breathing hard, as The Ash nodded and smiled, the faintest rumble of a laugh in his voice.

“Child,” he said gently. “They are exactly the same thing. If you had been raised in our ways you would know this. I’m inclined to forgive your ignorance and instead applaud your courage.”

“Courage?” Bo echoed, confused.

“Bo,” Dyson’s voice sounded behind her and she swung around to see him looking at her with what appeared to be pity. His taut expression communicated far more than words and she saw the shadows of fear in his gaze, how he glanced at The Ash and then back at her, shaking his head slowly. Dyson wasn’t afraid of anyone. But even he knew that exercising caution in The Ash’s presence wasn’t just a requirement of staying alive. It was essential.

She stared at the detective for a long moment before relenting slightly, letting out a disgruntled noise of frustration. Then she turned back to The Ash, this time with a little less rage and a lot more control.

“You could have helped her,” she said. “We could have helped her.”

The Ash nodded and smiled graciously once more. “Perhaps. But there is no ‘we’ in this scenario. There is only the Light and the Dark. You have chosen to be neither of those things, which excludes you from any and all decisions that pertain to those under their laws.”

“She needed you. She needed help. Protection.” Bo threw up her hands in despair and looked at the three figures gathered around her with plaintive eyes. “You’re supposed to be the Light,” she said. “The good guys. And all you’ve done since I’ve known you is prove otherwise.”

The Ash let out a noise of dismissal and exchanged a glance with Lauren, who looked away and flushed pink around the base of her throat. He shook his head, quite blatantly amused at Bo’s judgment. But when he looked at the Succubus, his eyes were cold and fathomless.

“You’re supposed to be Fae,” he returned Bo’s phrasing in a deliberate manner. “And all you’ve done since I’ve known you is prove otherwise.”

Bo opened her mouth to respond, but The Ash’s expression and the vague threat in his voice stemmed any words she might have.

“You exist in our world without identity. So did this girl. If you had joined the Light, we might have been able to help her together, but… ”

His inference was left dangling in the air for a moment before Bo’s eyes widened and flashed with a fire she simply couldn’t extinguish. Fists raised, she launched herself at The Ash. He barely moved as she darted forwards, and the arm that she lifted might have even made contact with him if Dyson’s hand hadn’t closed around it. Restrained, Bo let out a cry of rage and struggled in the detective’s grip for a moment before realizing that his strength was superior to hers. That, were she to try and reach The Ash, she would have to go through Dyson first.

“What did you do?” Bo demanded, her voice harsh and jagged. “What did you do to her?”

The Ash remained impassive, eyes roaming Bo’s contorted features and taking account of her anger, her passion, her strength. Her impudence and downright insolence shouldn’t be allowed to stand. He should cut her down right now, remove her sort of insubordination and gather his people around him. He’d heard the talk about her – that her independence was a thing to be admired, rather than resisted. The longer she remained apart from his people, the more they would feel the impetus to follow her lead. So he should end this. Now. For her own protection rather than anything else.

And yet, he reminded himself, perhaps this was precisely why he shouldn’t. The prophecies had told of a Fae whose loyalties weren’t so easily acquired. That the road towards alignment would be hard and pitted with troubles. Every time he wanted to remove Bo from his county, The Ash couldn’t help wondering if this was another trial; another challenge by which he could prove himself worthy of the promises the prophecies made.

“Tell me what you did!” Bo cried, struggling in Dyson’s grasp. “If you’ve hurt her, I swear I’ll – “

She was halted, not by the clouds gathering in The Ash’s eyes, or by the ever-tightening grip on her arms. No; Bo found that her voice left her the second she saw Lauren move, taking a step to her left to stand in front of The Ash. It was a tiny step, the doctor’s shoulder barely obscuring that of the Fae behind her, and it was almost ridiculously funny that Lauren could think she might offer some protection against a Succubus. Especially a Succubus who was trembling with rage.

Open-mouthed and vaguely appalled, Bo could only stare at Lauren as the doctor fixed her with an unwavering gaze. Deep brown eyes glistened with a heady mixture of emotions, some that Bo recognized. Some she didn’t. But if she had been pressed, she might have admitted that Lauren was looking at her with something akin to aversion.

She’d experienced it before, of course. From the humans she grew up with – always conscious of her separateness and difference. She’d felt it from Fae who were unable to comprehend her affection and desire for humanity. But Lauren? She’d never felt that way with Lauren. The doctor was the one person who accepted, nurtured and loved her. Circumstance was the source of their rejection; the machinations of Fae and humans conspiring, it seemed, to drive them apart. But they had never doubted one another.

Not until now.

Lauren lifted her chin and looked at Bo for a long time before speaking. And when she did, it was in a low voice that carried implicit intent.

“Don’t,” she said. “Don’t make it worse, Bo.”

The Succubus stopped struggling, snatching her arms from Dyson’s hands as soon as the detective felt her relent in his grip. Tugging on her jacket and casting a glowering look of antagonism towards The Ash, Bo threw back her shoulders and stood tall.

When she finally met Lauren’s eyes, it was with a hard-edged glare and the sheen of disappointment, of hurt and misplaced loyalties.

“Well now I don’t need to,” she said shortly. “Because you just did.”

Lauren gasped before covering her mouth with a trembling hand. Behind her, The Ash made a small noise of appraisal and allowed himself a tiny, triumphant smile. Bo made a move towards Lauren, looking as though she were about to grab the doctor, shake her, hit her… anything that might break the cloying atmosphere that had fallen around the little group. But in the same moment that Lauren’s hand fell from her lips and she half-reached out to Bo, the Succubus let out a snort of disdain, shook her head and stormed out of the lab.

Nobody said anything. Dyson looked embarrassed, torn between wanting to leave and knowing that he couldn’t. His eyes found the floor and he shuffled his feet, gazing intently at his boots.

Lauren blinked rapidly, clenching her teeth together in an effort to stop crying. She swallowed, feeling her heart beating so fast and hard that she thought it might burst from her chest and scream its pain to The Ash. It wasn’t until she felt a hand on her shoulder that she turned, seeing her mentor gaze on her not unkindly. But his fingers were cold and she shivered as they pressed into her skin for a brief moment.

“Continue your work,” he said, in a tone that should have carried platitudes, not demands.

She bobbed her head obediently, hiding her face from his nascent cognition and turned away as he walked towards the doorway, gesturing for the detective to follow him. Dyson and The Ash muttered in low tones as they moved further away from Lauren – not that she was listening anyway. She couldn’t. Because the buzzing in her ears was louder than anything else; the thudding of her heart providing melody to the sound, but not harmony.

Slowly, in a dreamlike manner, she lowered herself into the chair behind her desk and stared at the blank computer monitor until it blurred and became hazy in her vision. Blinking the fog away, she shook her head a little and wondered if she’d taken leave of her senses.

But then, didn’t it always seem that way where Bo was concerned?

“Hey,” a voice rasped above her head. “You okay?”

She looked up to see Dyson towering over her, head tilted onto one side in question. The pity in his gaze irked her, sparking a momentary flurry of animosity across her brow. Her lips pressed into a hard line and she glared at him, angered by the weaknesses he saw that merited such clemency.

“I’m fine,” she said briskly, nodding assertively like she meant it.

“Right,” he responded. “Of course you are.” His tone dripped with sarcasm, which only salted Lauren’s wounds and she bristled visibly.

“Is there anything more I can help you with?” she asked, turning her attentions to the sheaf of papers she had yet to sort through. “Anything about the science parts that you’re finding difficult?”

It was a low blow and she knew it. But it was all she had. All she had left to give her a reason for staying. A reason for choosing. A reason, perhaps, to lose, too. And the murmur of amusement that drifted over her head was well-deserved; she knew that, too.

“I’m good, thanks.” Dyson’s voice carried a trace of laughter and Lauren closed her eyes for a moment, breathing in slowly, willing her heart to slow its frantic pace.

“She’ll get over it, you know.”

Now Lauren lifted her head to stare at Dyson with a horrified, curious gaze. He shrugged carelessly and nodded at her. There was even the hint of a comforting smile around his mouth.

Unsettled, Lauren frowned and blinked. “And you know this because… ?”

“Because she feels things in the moment without a second thought for how it’s going to affect her later. She hasn’t learned to control it yet. And when she saw you defending The Ash,” Dyson paused and reached up, scratching at his beard, “she pretty much lost it completely.”

“You’re saying I’m bad for her?” Lauren raised her eyebrows and nodded curtly. “That’s not exactly news to me, Dyson. You and every other Fae stick to the party line when it comes to fraternizing with humans. And I wasn’t defending him!” she snapped.

“That’s not what I meant, Doc. If you’d just take that stick out of your ass and listen to me once in a while you’d know that I’ve lived five lives for your one. I know you’ve seen things that most humans can’t even imagine, but I’ve seen a whole lot more than that. Would it be easier for her if you were Fae? Sure.” He threw up his hands and observed the shadows that fell over Lauren’s face; the dark that crept into the center of her eyes. It troubled him, and that alone was cause enough to put an irritated rasp into the tone of his voice.

“But she doesn’t understand the Light. She sees The Ash as a person,” he continued. “She wasn’t raised as Fae and she looks at him through a human’s eyes. She doesn’t see him for what he is, or what the Light stands for.” He shrugged and shook his head as he gazed down at her.

“In her eyes, you were defending him. You were choosing him over her. You gotta admit, Doc, it must have broken her heart a little.”

Lauren tilted her head onto one side, her gaze narrowing. “We are not talking about this,” she said plainly. “You and me? We are not discussing this.”

“Do you love her?”

“Dyson – “

“I do.”

Lauren’s mouth fell open and she stared at him with widened eyes. It wasn’t a surprise to know that Dyson was in love with Bo – for a detective, Dyson really wasn’t that good at disguising himself. No; what shocked her was that he was openly admitting it. And to her, of all people. Even as she searched for deception in his features, she knew she would find none.

Dyson had never made any secret of his feelings towards most humans. He tolerated them for the pleasure they brought him; he even claimed to be friends with some, but Lauren had felt the sting of his inherent prejudice even as she impressed him with her own human set of skills and abilities. Most of the time, she thought to herself, he was downright rude and abrasive. And she’d grown accustomed to that behavior, even indulging in it when he could be easily roused.

He’d never really forgiven her for stealing Bo away from him. He’d never really forgiven himself for allowing it to happen, for being left with a disturbing sense of inadequacy beside a human. Beside Lauren.

But looking at him now, Lauren could see sincerity in gray eyes and she looked away momentarily, perturbed.

“You know,” Dyson remarked almost casually. “I get why you’re doing it, Lauren.” On the questioning glance she threw at him, he shrugged. “Pushing her away from you, trying to get her to join the Light. I’ve made sacrifices for The Ash, too. But don’t you think that telling Bo about the bigger picture might at least stop her holding him personally responsible for it?”

“I… ” Lauren wanted to respond, wanted to refute his insights and cling to the stoicism that characterized her. But that sort of strength was a thing of the past and she’d split open, displaying all her tender, weak spots. She’d half expected Dyson to sink his teeth into them and rip her apart; anticipated his scent for prey and lightning fast reactions to the smallest of imperfections.

Finding herself at a loss for words, she swallowed her vulnerability and shook her head. This was not a time for fallibility. And the part of her that hid Bo away and tucked her into the secretive depths of her heart closed. She looked up at Dyson with expressionless features.

“We still need a sample of the drug,” she said calmly, not failing to notice the swathe of irritation that twitched at the corners of Dyson’s mouth. “That has to be our priority.”

He nodded and jerked his chin towards the door. “The Ash said the same. He also said that the Dark are coming in on this?”

“I like it even less than you do,” Lauren sighed. “But I guess it’s a case of keeping your friends close and your enemies closer. Until we can prove that the Dark are involved in this, we have no choice but to work with them on finding out exactly what this stuff does.” Her words were tense, heavy with the sour aftertaste of The Morrigan’s black threats.

Dyson shifted slightly, folding his arms over his chest. “Do you really believe that this thing changes Fae?” he asked almost shamefacedly. “That they’re trying to escape the Light?”

“I don’t know,” Lauren replied slowly, turning in her chair. “But Bo does. And right now, that’s good enough for me.”

Part 22

The Dal was busy – busier than usual. Bo pushed her way through the crowd towards the bar, bumping up against Fae and making a string of apologies as she did so. By the time she reached the counter, there was a faint scowl on her face that tugged at the corners of her mouth and sat heavy and recalcitrant in her eyes.

She leaned over the bar and caught Trick’s eye, motioning at him as he trotted over towards her. As he neared, his bright smile fell a little and he approached the Succubus with not a little caution.

“It seems like every time you come here you’re in a bad mood,” he observed as Bo let out a pained sigh and shook her head. “I’ll try not to take it personally,” he added, grabbing a bottle of beer from underneath the bar and popping the cap, finally placing it in front of the Succubus.

Gripping it and swigging thankfully, Bo swallowed and half-closed her eyes. When she opened them, she saw Trick’s gaze fixed on her, inquisitive and concerned.

“Your people,” she gestured at him with the bottle before raising it to her lips once more, “are asshats.”

Amusement twitched the corner of Trick’s mouth, but he was wise enough not to give vent to it. Instead, he grabbed a cloth from behind the bar and began cleaning a couple of glasses – not that they needed it. But he stood, waiting for Bo to speak, watching confused irritation pass over her features like dark clouds on a sunny day.

“I mean,” Bo finally said, after having gulped down half of her bottle of beer, “what the hell, right?” She lifted her eyebrows and pursed her lips, clearly annoyed.

Trick shrugged and held the glass up in front of his eyes, nodding to himself as it sparkled in the bar lights behind him. “Indeed,” he said quietly, before placing the glass on a shelf below the bar and turning his gaze onto Bo’s vexed expression. “Can I help?” he asked, leaning towards her.

“Can you make The Ash less of an arrogant, patronizing bigot?” Bo suggested, her voice trembling over the anger she was barely keeping in check.

Letting out a faint hum of acknowledgement, Trick threw the cloth he was holding over his shoulder and shrugged a little. “I’m not sure I can,” he murmured, sympathy dancing in his bright gaze for a moment.

“Then get me another drink,” Bo muttered, pushing her now empty bottle towards the bartender.

As he replaced the empty bottle with another, full one, Trick took a short breath and glanced around the bar. The Dal had always been something of a sanctuary for Fae – a place where normalcy overran identity and where clans mingled, where lines were blurred and half-forgotten. He’d encouraged it, secretly hoping that the stark boundaries of identity might be left outside the door once Fae entered. For the most part, he’d been successful. Most Fae who came to The Dal did so because they sought the company of their own kind – fealty to their clans tended to sway somewhat in light of the atmosphere he’d created inside the bar.

His eyes lighted on a couple of Fae who were huddled close together near the door, having just entered. Dark Fae. Not the first to patronize The Dal, and Trick was sure they wouldn’t be the last. Caution prickled at the back of his neck, but it was only a momentary reaction. Dark Fae often came here and, for the most part, their reasons for doing so were the same as every other Fae. They wanted to forget loyalties, just for one night. Just for a few hours, they wanted to release the bonds of fealty and imagine that freedom – complete independence – could be theirs.

Just like Bo, he thought, his gaze returning to the grim-featured Succubus in front of him. He knew how other Fae envied and admired her for her stubborn refusal to join either side. Some of them even feared her for it. Because there was no middle ground when it came to being Fae; there was only Light and Dark. And he knew this from bitter experience.

“It’s hard when you don’t belong, isn’t it?” he mused, catching Bo’s eye. “Especially when everyone else does.”

“Belonging means choosing,” Bo said abruptly, placing her bottle onto the bar and picking at the sweating label. “And I can’t choose until I know where I belong.” She frowned, staring at the half-empty bottle of beer before looking back up at Trick again.

“All my life,” she said quietly, her voice almost swallowed by the noise of the chattering masses around her, “I never fit in. When I found the Fae, I thought that I might, you know?” She raised her eyebrows as Trick nodded solemnly, leaning towards her over the bar.

“But being part of this world… it’s just made everything harder.” She slumped onto one of the bar stools and pushed at her hair. “And nobody ever chooses me,” she added in a low tone.

“Nobody?” Trick enquired. “Or somebody?”

The Succubus glared at him through narrowed eyes, wishing he wasn’t so damn insightful. Wishing she wasn’t so easy for him to read, as well. As his eyes roamed her face, Bo shook her head and swallowed another mouthful of beer.

“I don’t get it,” she stated abruptly, waving her bottle around in the air. “She says that she chooses me and does this whole self-sacrificing thing but when it comes down to it The Ash is the only person she really cares about.”

“Ah,” Trick nodded, as Bo sighed glumly, her chin falling to her chest. It wasn’t a new story, of course. He’d lived long enough to see this play out across generations and decades. Nothing surprised him – nothing other than the uncontrollable impetus to give and receive affection. That desire crossed all lines that his people might have drawn, from Light to Dark, Fae to human. And it rarely ended well. Even after everything he’d done; everything he’d sacrificed to get to this place in his existence – even after all the decisions and judgments he’d made that sat heavy on his conscience, he knew that Bo was walking the line right now. She was teetering on the brink, desperate not to fall one way or the other. And all the while, the ground under her feet was breaking away, threatening to topple her from her self-imposed moral standpoint.

“You know,” he said slowly, as Bo’s dark gaze flickered to meet his own. “The Ash isn’t really a person. None of us are. Not even you,” he gestured towards her.

“And every time someone says that, it pisses me off just a little bit more,” Bo growled. “Why don’t you tell me I would know all this stuff if I’d been raised Fae? Because that never gets old.”

“Well,” Trick shrugged thoughtfully, “it’s true. Understanding this world is… ” He trailed off, looking around the bar again at the assorted and varied species that were his customers. “It’s not easy for someone like you,” he finished.

“Someone like me?” Bo echoed, vaguely offended at the inference. “Oh,” she nodded curtly. “I understand this world just fine, thanks. I understand that if you aren’t part of the Light, then you have to be part of the Dark. And if you choose neither, then you’re unwanted. If I want to be happy, then I have to suck up to The Ash so that he approves.” The bitterness in her tone made Trick wince a little and he proffered a smile of consolation.

“He clings to the old ways,” he said. “Tradition is important to our people. We’ve lived in the shadow of humans for so long that sometimes, tradition is all we have.”

“That doesn’t make it right,” Bo snapped, demurring somewhat as she saw Trick’s eyes widen imperceptibly. “Look,” she said in a softer tone, “I spent most of my life wondering why I didn’t deserve what everyone else seemed to have so easily. And the second I find it… ”

She shook her head and shrugged, taking another swig of her beer. “Lauren isn’t Fae,” she muttered. “She doesn’t have a tradition to cling to.”

“She’s owned by a Fae, though,” Trick reminded her, seeing resentment color Bo’s eyes inky black. “By The Ash,” he added. “It’s an honor not bestowed upon many.”

“Some honor. She’s scared of him!”

“Rightly so,” Trick nodded. “Bo, The Ash isn’t just a figurehead or some sort of despot.”

Bo let out a snort of disagreement, but Trick continued, “He doesn’t just lead the Light. He is the Light.”

At her confused, dubious expression, he smiled indulgently and frowned a little. The childish lessons that Fae learned when they were young, so easy to recite and hold dear were foreign to Bo – as foreign as this world had been the first time she stepped into it. If she had been properly taught, as all young Fae were, then she would have some comprehension of the fragile balance that it contained. Some understanding, at least, of the tenuous relationships that this world – his world – had with the human one. How The Ash protected them all from it. Even if he did it in ways that Trick had abjured, along with his own title and authority.

“Don’t judge her for the loyalties she shows,” he said kindly. “Admire her for them. Being human in the Fae world is… ” he paused, his lips forming a line of concern. “Well, it’s very difficult,” he finished.

“That’s the understatement of the year,” Bo said sharply. “So why does she do it? I mean, I know why but… why?” she asked in a lame voice.

Trick couldn’t help laughing at the disconsolate expression on Bo’s face. Her innocence was charming, her devotion to the doctor even more so. And for all the things he’d seen and felt throughout his long life, a Succubus with a conscience was a new experience for him. Succubae were, by their very nature, selfish creatures. They took from others and rarely gave back. But all Bo wanted to do was give – give everything she had to Lauren. To someone who had accepted a fate that demeaned them. Bo couldn’t possibly hope to understand that concept. In fact, he thought, casting a look of appraisal over her disappointed face, she seemed a little repulsed by it.

“Because the Light is so much more than allegiance,” he said, seeing how Bo’s eyes widened slightly and her mouth opened to protest. “I may not always approve of The Ash’s style of leadership,” he continued hurriedly before she had chance to speak, “but without the Light, we would descend into darkness. And speaking as someone who has experienced that very thing, I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. Especially not on you.”

Bo tipped her head back, finishing her beer and replaced the bottle onto the bar. Eyeing Trick with reluctant understanding, she sighed. “So you’re saying I don’t have a choice, right?”

“Not in the sense you view it, no. And neither does Lauren. She has a duty that supersedes choice. You do, too.”

“A duty?” Bo echoed. “To The Ash?” Her voice rose before falling from strained offense into resentment once more. “That motherfu – “

“There you go again, thinking of him as a person,” Trick admonished gently. “When you stop thinking like a human and start thinking more like a Fae, things will make more sense.”

“Yeah?” Bo challenged, chin jutting out. “And when Lauren stops acting like a Fae and starts acting more like a human, I might even figure out where the hell we stand.”

Trick eyed her carefully, reaching over the bar to close his fingers around her wrist. “Bo,” he said gently, “she defied The Ash. For you. And she still does, just by being with you. I’ve known Lauren for a long time but I’ve never known her put herself on the line like that. Not for anyone. So what you have to ask yourself isn’t why she remains loyal to The Ash, but why she goes against him.”

“She doesn’t, though!” Bo exclaimed, snatching her wrist from Trick’s grasp and letting out a sigh of frustration. “She keeps trying to get me to join the Light. And, if I do, I’d have to give her up. Which is crazy, quite frankly.”

“Greater love hath no man… ” Trick intoned.

Bo’s face crumpled into lines of disappointment and faint annoyance. “See, I was with you up until you started quoting shit at me,” she told him.

Drawing back, Trick rolled his eyes. “Shit,” he said the word with great distaste, “or not, sometimes doing the right thing hurts.”

“That’s comforting,” Bo murmured sardonically.

“Let me teach you,” Trick suddenly said, a look of eagerness creeping across his face. “Let me help you understand who you are, Bo. Who you could be. Perhaps it will help you understand who Lauren is, too. And The Ash,” he added.

Doubt shadowed Bo’s face, crawling suspiciously across impossibly beautiful features. Trick wasn’t a fan of The Ash. He had chosen to separate himself from politics and the constant wrangling of power between Light and Dark. And yet, he espoused a version of the Fae that Bo couldn’t help finding attractive. Trick’s Light was a community that gathered its members because of their shared ideals; a society that didn’t separate itself from others because of difference.

As she gazed at him, Bo thought she saw hope in his eyes – an infectious, tangible emotion that leapt in her own chest. All she suspected he might have witnessed, the history of the Fae playing out before his eyes, shone in his gaze right now. His wisdom, his modesty and, most of all, his kindness formed a lump in her throat and she swallowed over it, looking away from him. As a Succubus, she had seen many things in other people that nobody else could. Things people wanted to hide away, displaying only that which served their purpose. She’d seen lust shine in their eyes and glisten around them like a solar flare of want. She’d seen greed as she moved in closer and pressed herself up against them. And fear… oh yes, she’d seen fear clutching at them as they tried to extricate themselves from her grasp.

But Trick? All she saw in Trick was his generosity of spirit and the altruistic smile crinkling lines around his eyes. She blinked, touched, clearing her throat before glancing up at him.

“It might make some of the monsters go away,” he suggested, noticing the haunted expression in her eyes. She was so very human in some respects; they always feared what they didn’t understand. Comprehension, for them, was how they explained the world around them. But a human world had no comprehension of Fae, and no explanation for a life less ordinary. It was why the First Rule had been created, so that humans never had to fear Fae. Because fear, for humans, always led to destruction.

He reached under the bar, popping another bottle of beer open and placing it gently in front of Bo.

“Thank you,” she said softly. Then, smiling at him, she nodded. “Thank you,” she repeated.

He waved his hand in the air. “Come find me sometime when the bar’s closed,” he said lightly. “Now,” he gestured across the bar, “here’s your first lesson: go and have some fun. Enjoy being who and what you are.”

Almost shyly, Bo took the beer and turned to face the bar, scanning the crowd for company. She hadn’t come here with the intention of feeding. Lauren’s betrayal had sat in her gut, heavy and cumbersome. If she hadn’t been a Succubus then there would have been no reason to choose, no reason to betray and hurt. Bo had come here hating who she was, her lifelong desire to be ‘normal’ resurfacing once again.

And yet, she had come to the one place that felt the safest.

She smiled ruefully at her contradictions. At how her true nature always led her home in the end; led her towards the unfamiliar and away from the things she clung to for comfort. Just when she’d recognized solitude as her future, Lauren had come into her life. And just when she’d felt hatred for what she was…

“Are you alone?”

Turning, Bo looked up into two bright green eyes that blinked curiously at her. The male Fae was smiling and she instantly returned it as he glimmered slightly with interest. He was handsome – not in the powerful, masculine way that Dyson was. This guy was smooth where Dyson was rough, neat where Dyson was rumpled.

Bo’s gaze raked up and down him and she felt herself begin to relax, drawing closer to feel the warmth radiating from his skin that spoke of promised pleasure.

“Not any more,” she told him, and his smile widened.

“Succubus, right?” His forefinger moved from the glass it was wrapped around and pointed at her.

“Right,” she nodded. “How did you know?”

He let out a hum of laughter and shrugged. “Fae get chatty after a few drinks,” he said. “Besides, you’re kind of famous now. You’re the one who’s unaligned.”

“I am.” Bo took a step even closer to him, fingers brushing against his shirt as she tilted her head onto one side. “Kinda dangerous for you to be seen with me, isn’t it?”

He laughed again and the sound jangled around him in bright lights. Hunger began to prickle at the back of Bo’s neck, tingling down her spine and pooling into the empty spaces inside her. She looked into his eyes and saw his pupils dilate, huge circles of black that almost obliterated the green.

“Sometimes it’s worth it,” he answered. “Sometimes that’s the point.”

Bo narrowed her gaze and let out a throaty laugh. “Does that line work on all the girls?”

The Fae had the good sense to flush a little, but his smile was so engaging and his presence so electric that Bo didn’t much mind if his style wasn’t. Besides, she told herself, she deserved this. She needed this. Now hunger yawned inside her, filling her stomach with an almost intolerable ache for sustenance. She reached up and grasped his arm, her lips opening in prescient satisfaction.

“You wanna get out of here?” she asked, leaning in close enough to hear his intake of air at her touch. He didn’t need to answer. She already knew what he was going to say. What they always said. And it flooded her, then; the power that she’d denied herself and the seduction that she had quelled. She thought of Trick’s words, of the identity that was hers to claim, and she smiled up at the Fae. Trick was right. She really didn’t have a choice.

Part 23

Lauren woke with a start, eyes snapping open, certain that the noise she’d heard in her dreams also belonged in her reality. For a few achingly long seconds, she held her breath, straining into the pitch around her. Jangling nerves sent a prickle over her skin and she listened intently for as long as she could bear it.

It was only when she let out a protracted, hissing breath that she realized she’d been holding it in. Any fears she might have had were irrational, of course. She almost smiled as she threw back the covers with a determined hand, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. As a child, she’d always been scared of imaginary monsters that lurked in the darkness. But as an adult, she had learned that the real monsters walked in the light and wore faces as familiar as her own.

The faint chill of the room shivered down her back as she padded across the wooden floor. Blinking, she surveyed the darkness of the hallway beyond, her gaze slowly becoming accustomed to the purpling shadows creeping along the floor and slithering their way up walls. Not that she really needed to take pause; Lauren could have picked her way down the corridor blindfolded.

Her knowledge of the house – the sounds it made or the shape it kept – was, like everything else in her life, picked apart, examined and then put back together again. Every object, every piece of furniture had a place that Lauren anticipated as she made her way down the hall, her pathway familiar whether shrouded in darkness or illuminated by daylight.

The noise came again without preamble, so suddenly that she gasped, clamping a hand over her mouth. Someone was thumping on her front door. Someone whose voice Lauren recognized as it called out her name in a decidedly less than happy tone.

Swiftly pacing towards the door, Lauren reached up to pull back the deadbolt at the top, tugging it open. All thoughts of monsters – real and imaginary - forgotten, she stood back a little and eyed Bo with relative relief and not a little irritation.

The Succubus lifted her head, eyes sweeping covetously up and down Lauren’s body. The doctor shivered again, but this time it had nothing to do with the cool night air coming in through the open door. Bo’s eyes glistened in the darkness, a glassy sheen of blue lighting them and burning brightly for a moment before extinguishing. Bo smirked lazily and tilted her head onto one side.

“No point in me having this if you’re going to bolt the door,” she commented, waving a key in front of Lauren’s face before shoving it into the depths of her coat pocket. Pushing past the doctor, she kicked at the door and it flew from Lauren’s grasp, crashing shut with a jarring noise.

“I wasn’t expecting you,” Lauren said in a low voice. “Today, in… in the lab – “

“Yeah, whatever. You’ve got a job to do for your precious Ash,” Bo said carelessly. The corners of her eyes narrowed slightly as she glanced at Lauren and it seemed as though she was going to elucidate further. But instead she shrugged, sliding her coat from her shoulders and throwing it towards the table beside the front door. The coat only half covered the table top where it hung precariously for a few precious seconds before falling to the floor in a heap.

Bo let out faint hum of amusement and tossed her head, shoving her hair back over her shoulders. Turning, she paced a few steps, clearly agitated. Lauren had seen her this way before – especially after a feed. But tonight, Bo’s movements were fluid as she prowled in front of the doctor, her dark-clad form as beautiful and threatening as a feline who intends to toy with its prey before killing it.

“Bo, it’s late,” Lauren said slowly, the hesitancy in her voice the only impetus Bo needed to pounce.

The Succubus stopped just a few paces short of Lauren, leaning back on her heels and folding her arms over her chest. There was that smirk again; the acknowledgement of a greater power and a stronger desire that Lauren could see flashing cerulean light through Bo’s eyes.

“I know what time it is,” Bo responded abruptly. “So?”

“So I’m glad that you’re here and that you’ve… ” Lauren swallowed and gestured towards Bo with a nod, “… fed. But it’s been a really long day and I’m tired.”

She moved past Bo and headed off down the hallway. “I’ve been tired a lot lately and I just… I need to sleep.” Not hiding the irritation in her voice, Lauren’s words were clipped; her steps hastened. There was no hesitation now, not when Bo returned to her with a swagger and the arrogance that Fae energy imbued in her. And although she didn’t intend for blame to carry from her voice to Bo’s ears, it was there nonetheless.

In an instant, Bo was at her side, reaching out to wrap her fingers around the doctor’s naked upper arm. They stopped underneath a high window in the corridor that flooded them in silhouettes of silver as the moon peeked at them from behind a cloud.

“I know,” Bo intoned. “And I’m sorry.” She dropped her head penitently, but her grip tightened, digging into Lauren’s flesh.

“I’ll make it up to you. I promise. Forgive me?” Bo murmured, pulling Lauren against her. The doctor saw a luster of blue as Bo’s mouth pressed up against her own. A Succubus’ kiss – Bo’s kiss – was usually filled with a heady mixture of wonder and thrill, but tonight Lauren began to frown as a groan thrummed from Bo’s mouth to her own.

Putting her hands onto Bo’s shoulders, the doctor pushed hard. Staggering backwards a couple of paces, Bo lifted the back of her hand to her mouth as though Lauren had struck her. She gazed at the doctor, a wolfish grin on her lips.

“Something wrong?” She shifted slightly, darkness flooding into the spaces between them.

Jealousy was a wasteful emotion, Lauren reminded herself. It only served to emphasize the differences between them, goading them until argument replaced intimacy. She knew rationally – scientifically – that Bo needed to feed. It was in her nature. A function, not a choice. And, Bo had told her, not a pleasure.

But Lauren couldn’t help wondering if it was precisely that sensation she’d tasted on Bo’s lips. Heavy, almost acrid; the remnants of a savored experience that had nothing to do with her.

So it was indeed a bitter twist of jealousy that rankled in her gut as she folded her arms over her tank top, shivering once more despite her assertions.

“When you’ve fed,” Lauren began, straightening under the heavy-lidded gaze of the Succubus, “you taste different. When you kiss me, I mean.” She cleared her throat and hugged her arms over her chest, but didn’t relent even when Bo let out a faint huff of derision.

“And you always come here afterwards for sex.”

Bo snorted, throwing up her hands. “Not seeing a problem here. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

Lauren winced, stung by Bo’s words. She wanted it more than anything. Sometimes, more than everything. In any way – even like this, as an afterthought or small consolation. She’d seen the way Fae energy affected Bo; the way it made her crave full indulgence of her sexuality and gravitate towards release. Sometimes she even felt guilty that Bo returned to her after feeding, sliding into their bed with apologies and confessions. Because Succubae just weren’t meant to be monogamous. It was the first thing Lauren had learned about their kind. The only thing that mattered, now.

“I’m doing this because you told me to. I’m doing it for you.” Bo was recalcitrant now, turning on Lauren with an accusatory gaze that glittered briefly in the dark. “It’s hardly my fault if all I want is you, or would you prefer it if I had sex with other people as well?”

“Of course not!” Lauren gasped, shaking her head. “I’m not blaming you, Bo,” she said hurriedly. A vague sense of alarm grabbed her chest with greedy fingers. “I was just – just making an observation.”

“Oh… right.” Bo threw up her hands, sighing loudly. “Because I’m your pet science experiment. How stupid of me to forget.”

She darted towards the startled doctor, ire working lines around her eyes. “Make sure you write that down in your little notebook,” she spat.

The fingers clutching Lauren’s chest burst into flames and sent hot-tempered exasperation surging through her lungs. Clenching her teeth together, she bit at words that would be so easy to say; so difficult to take back. Nodding to herself, she glanced down at the ground. By the time she lifted her head, there was a brittle smile of polite acquiescence on her lips.

“Alright,” she said in a curt tone. “Goodnight, Bo.” She turned and began to walk towards her bedroom.

Bo’s fingers once more curled around her arm, staying her progress.

“Lauren – wait,” Bo urged, her voice drifting into a coo of seduction. “I’m sorry. Don’t be mad.”

“I’m not – “ Lauren caught her breath at that sheen of blue again in Bo’s eyes, “ – mad.”

She heard Bo’s amused laugh and acrimony eddied into her throat. Lauren wasn’t prone to the heated exchanges of anger. She’d worked hard to suppress those urges. To argue with Bo would be pointless and counter-productive. But it might just quiet those whispering pangs of inadequacy that taunted her so painfully.

“I don’t mind if you’re mad,” Bo whispered, her mouth deliciously close to Lauren’s ear. “I understand if you’re jealous that I’m feeding from Fae. I get it. You wish you were like them so that you could keep me all to yourself instead of making me go out and feed.”

Lauren gasped. She wasn’t sure what hurt more: that Bo was whispering these words with the intimacy of a lover or the knowledge that they were true.

“Taking their energy,” Bo’s lips brushed up against Lauren’s earlobe, the tip of a tongue briefly caressing its surface. “Getting them to give me… ” Another whisper-touch of lips, this time in the hollow on Lauren’s neck. “… Everything.”

“No.” Lauren twisted out of Bo’s grip and lifted her hands as though to ward off the Succubus. “No,” she said again, firmly.

“No?” Bo echoed, with a playfully arched brow .

“You’re not yourself tonight, Bo.” Lauren shook her head. “That’s one of the side effects of feeding. We both know that. Some Fae energy is more potent than others so you have to – “

“Exercise caution, yadda yadda yadda,” Bo sighed, rolling her eyes and waving her hand dismissively in the air. “You have so many rules, Lauren. So many boundaries that you won’t cross.”

Taking a step forwards, Bo reached out, trailing her fingers through Lauren’s hair. “Lighten up a little, okay?” she smirked.

“Okay,” Lauren gave another tight smile and nodded curtly, taking a short breath. “Look, Bo, I’m sorry I hurt you today but this is pointless. Being cruel won’t help you feel better. This isn’t like you. Now, if you want to stay and sleep it off, that’s fine. Or you can go.”

She lifted her chin defiantly and stared Bo down for a long moment before shaking her head and clenching her teeth. “I’m not going to do this with you tonight, okay?”

Rationality. Caution. She so desperately needed them to be her watchwords right now, but emotion burned bright and hot in her throat as Bo lifted her eyes heavenwards in bored dismissal.

Lauren was only aware of moving when her upper back hit the cold wall behind her, spreading pain across her shoulder blades and eliciting a surprised gush of air from her lungs. Bo’s body was suddenly against her own, wet lips on her ear and warm breath flooding down her neck.

“How about we do this instead?” Bo purred. Grabbing Lauren’s wrists, she pinned them to the wall above the doctor’s head and smiled at the high-pitched moan her actions elicited – a sound of surprise, of arousal, of fear.

“You’re wrong, you know,” she whispered against Lauren’s neck. “I’m more myself tonight than I’ve been in a long, long time.” She leaned in and sucked at the spot just underneath Lauren’s ear, gratified by the strangled moan that came from the doctor’s throat despite her efforts to resist.

“Bo, don’t… ” Lauren whispered, but her throat was dry and her skin alive, every nerve ending jittering a panicked sensation up and down her spine. She pushed against Bo’s vice like grip on her wrists and heard a soft laugh emerge from the Succubus’ mouth, pressed against her collarbone.

“Bo, don’t… ” Her words echoed in Bo’s mouth, mocking and insincere. Lauren pushed again, but to no avail. Bo’s hips pressed against her own, circling in a lazy swirl of desire. Satisfied that Lauren couldn’t free herself, one of the Succubus’ hands left Lauren’s wrists to curl around the doctor’s throat. Bo’s fingers flexed and Lauren felt her windpipe contract under the pressure, spiraling glittering patches of shadow behind her eyes that she tried to blink away, eyelids fluttering rapidly.

“This is who I am, Lauren,” Bo hissed, jerking Lauren’s head up so that it banged painfully against the wall behind it. “And you love it, don’t you?”

The Succubus rolled her hips against Lauren’s once more and let out a ragged breath of pleasure at the contact. “You love the darkness in me as much as you love the light.” As the doctor’s mouth opened in protest, Bo laughed, her mouth against the strong jaw that she gripped with iron fingers. “I know you do,” she murmured. “You want it, don’t you? Every time you look at me?”

“Not… not like this.” Words coming out in a strangled, hoarse whisper, Lauren was struggling with the effort of trying not to want it. Of trying to deny the electricity that coursed through her veins every time Bo touched her. It wasn’t real. It was the result of feeding too much, too soon, too quickly. An intoxication of a different kind and one that dizzied Bo’s senses and broke down her inhibitions so that she became animal. Primal.

It was terrifying. It was thrilling. It was the edge of a precipice that Lauren had always run from and not towards. She abhorred the darkness that some Fae seemed to display so easily and without regret or conscience. But she was also fascinated by it; enthralled by the liberation it thrust upon those who indulged in it and submitted to its temptations.

As Bo’s hand slid from around her throat, Lauren felt herself being dragged towards the edge. And when Bo’s fingers slid past the waistband of her pants and dipped inside her, Lauren was only aware of the humid betrayal between her legs and the almost overwhelming sense of shame that accompanied it.

Bo let out a soft laugh. “Actually,” she said, removing her hand from Lauren’s pants and holding it up between them, fingers glistening wetly. “I’d say you want it exactly like this.”

Lifting her fingers to her lips, Bo sucked on them greedily. A guttural noise of pleasure came from her throat and Lauren swallowed, closing her eyes briefly. When she opened them, she saw Bo smiling beatifically at her in the half-light, eyes cold and dark in her own shadow.

“Poor Lauren,” Bo said softly, as her grin became smug; hungry. She tilted her head onto one side and pushed out her lower lip in a mockery of indulgent compassion. “All that wanting,” she murmured. “Must drive you crazy, right?”

Wriggling in the Succubus’ grip, Lauren felt Bo’s grasp on her wrists tighten. A flare of panic surged in her chest momentarily as her knuckles bumped against the wall above her head. She was no match for Bo’s superior strength. And she felt exposed, vulnerable, dangerously at risk.

“Stop this,” she said in a low, tremulous tone. “Stop it, Bo. I don’t need your pity.” Her jaw hardened as she tried to control the anger and panic bubbling together in her throat like acid, pricking tears behind her eyes. Again she struggled in the fingers like shackles on her wrists and, again, only felt the hardness of restraint.

“Good.” Bo’s mouth was on her throat, tracing the lines where fingers had pressed hard and left tender spots that were sure to bruise. “I’m kinda all out of pity tonight.”

Lauren struggled again, a burgeoning sense of danger wrapping itself around her as quickly as Bo’s grasp had done around her neck. Fingers slid up into her hair, grabbing a fistful and tugging so hard that Lauren cried out at the sharp hurt that fled across her scalp. It seemed to placate the Succubus somewhat and Bo smiled, teeth bared in a grin as she exposed the long lines of Lauren’s throat.

Nails scraping an urgent tattoo on Lauren’s scalp, Bo pushed her thigh between the doctor’s legs and felt the scorching heat there. “Tell me you want this,” she rasped against Lauren’s neck. “Tell me you want me.”

“I… ” Lauren swallowed, her throat pulsing and tight. Shame flooded her cheeks once more. Because no matter how much she tried to deny it, she did want this. Bo’s power, unleashed. Untamed. The only thing keeping her from the abyss was a sense of propriety that seemed incongruous with the heat swelling between her legs and the pain that she welcomed, despite herself.

“Come on, Lauren,” Bo urged, her voice as hard and unrelenting as the grasp she had on the other woman. “Tell me how, every time I feed from someone else, you wish it was you. Tell me how that feels. Does it drive you crazy?”

Lauren moved again, her back arching from the wall, pulling on hands that were pinned above her head. A moan escaped her mouth, leaving it open, lips parted in submission, in invitation, in desperate admission. Horrified at her own discovery she looked at Bo, eyes wide in realization, and the Succubus grinned again, pushing against her so that Lauren’s body crashed into the wall once more.

“Thought so,” Bo growled, kicking Lauren’s legs apart with one foot and insinuating her thigh between them with a forceful thrust. She leaned in, claiming Lauren’s mouth in a searing kiss. Teeth clashed and tongues battled as Bo’s hand splayed out on the back of Lauren’s head, pulling her closer, still closer so that the doctor was almost unable to discern where one woman ended and the other began.

Wrenching her mouth from Lauren’s, Bo laughed again and let go of the doctor’s head. And whether it was cruelty or passion that guided her hand down Lauren’s torso, she wasn’t altogether sure. She only knew that it was an imperative she simply couldn’t deny. As her fingers pushed into Lauren’s pajama pants and between her legs again, there was no restraint. No holding back. Not any more. She slid three fingers into the warm wetness that welcomed them, right up to the knuckle.

Lauren froze and sucked in a gasping, whistling lungful of air. Her arms strained and her hips bucked against Bo’s, desperately seeking freedom.

Bo withdrew her fingers almost to their tips before plunging them back inside the other woman again, relishing the abandon that closed Lauren’s eyes, that jerked at her hips and drew a groan from her mouth. Leaning in, Bo’s lips hovered over Lauren’s for a whirling moment until finally, luxuriously, she began to feed.

Too many sensations whipped through the doctor’s brain for her to separate, dissect and analyze each one in turn. In the same moment that her body arched towards Bo’s touch, her head became dizzy with the flow of energy escaping her mouth. Somewhere, at the back of everything, Lauren was alarmed; frightened, even. But as light slipped from her mouth into Bo’s, an encroaching darkness numbed her fears. She felt herself sag against the wall, felt herself struggle feebly against the hand holding her own there. But it was to no avail.

A buzzing in her ears pounded with the fluttering of her pulse as she felt herself sliding into oblivion. The ceaseless thrusting of Bo’s fingers inside her echoed the noise around her head and she tried… oh how she tried to resist. But control was a fair-weather friend and she was utterly powerless to call it to arms now.

“No… ” she gasped, trying to turn her mouth from Bo’s. “Too much… Bo, you’re taking too much. You have to… have to stop. Please. Please stop.”

But the Succubus didn’t. She released Lauren’s hands and curled her hand around the doctor’s jaw, holding her firmly so that she could gain further purchase on the shining threads of energy drifting towards her mouth. She inhaled them with an avaricious craving, half-wondering if she could ever truly be sated by this woman, by the fevered passion between them that would not abate.

She knew she should stop; that she was in danger of draining Lauren until there was nothing left but an empty husk. She knew that, were she to lose herself in the moment completely, that she could kill the other woman. But the body wrapped around her fingers and the entreaties of sighs and moans made it seem as though this was right. Perfect, even.

Roughly shoving her fingers in and out of Lauren, Bo was aware of the trembling tension around them, of the sticky heat on her hand, of the oncoming release that she wanted to give. And all the things she wanted to take, too: the coppery taste of Lauren’s energy when she climaxed, the understanding of it all, the moment of clarity that savoring one another this way offered.

Even though she knew these things and more, Bo wouldn’t – couldn’t – stop. This was her compulsion; her nature. This was formed from the primordial; shaped in blackness and revealed in possession, ownership.

As Lauren’s eyes opened in a final, blackened plea, she crested and convulsed, letting out a cry that slid from exultation to lament. Falling limply against the Succubus, her head lolled forwards and her eyes began to close; heavy, empty, wasted.

Bo gripped Lauren’s throat more firmly, pushing the other woman back against the wall once more. Fastening her mouth onto the doctor’s open lips, Bo began to breathe energy between them. A few tendrils swirled aimlessly at the corner of Lauren’s mouth, almost floating free before the doctor gasped, eyes flying open as she sucked in the tangible energy Bo was giving her.

Color, strength, power and light began to flood Lauren’s senses. A rush of awareness, of displacement, of infinite potency flashed through her veins like electricity. Her fingers crept around Bo’s wrist, gripping it tightly as though she was drowning. Perhaps she was. A flurry of lights danced in front of her eyes and she clung to the Succubus for a moment before closing the gap between them and taking Bo’s mouth in her own.

A faint noise of surprise came from Bo’s throat, but Lauren didn’t let go. Her tongue pushed between Bo’s lips, tangling and slithering against the one it found there. With newfound strength still dancing and tumbling through her body, Lauren began to move, pushing forwards onto the fingers that were still inside her. Desire rushed wantonly into her movements. She cared little for propriety now, jerking her hips onto Bo’s fingers and forcing them to caress her, forcing them to slide over and around her clitoris, hissing every time they did so. Her other hand curled around Bo’s neck, pulling the Succubus against her; closer, never close enough until euphoric elation took hold and Lauren cried out again, throwing her head back and wailing into the night.

Part 24

Lauren adjusted the focus on the microscope and smiled grimly as the contents of the slide came into view. Frowning, she squinted a little and let out a small noise of discontent. In spite of her renewed efforts to isolate the drug contained in DNA extracted from the dead Fae, without a control sample there was really nothing more she could do. Leaning back from the microscope, she slumped in her chair, disappointed. This was probably a colossal waste of time anyway; something as elusive and well-manufactured as this drug could take months to reproduce – even if they had been able to lay their hands on a sample. With Bo’s only contact to the drug gone, that tenuous scenario had moved further out of reach now.

Despite a few well-placed questions, The Ash hadn’t given an inch on whether he was responsible for laying waste to the drugs den, or the whereabouts of the girl. If he knew anything at all, then he hadn’t chosen to share it with Lauren. Straightening in her chair, the doctor scowled for a moment. It never used to bother her if The Ash kept secrets; she’d always assumed that her existence among the Fae was on a ‘need to know’ basis. And some things, she had concluded, were either unrelated to her work for The Ash or considered too important to share with a mere human. Even a human he appeared to value as much as he did her.

Today, that realization aggravated her and made her restless. But then, since she’d arrived at the lab stupidly early in the morning, almost everything had annoyed her. By the time she’d spoken far too sharply to one of her most dedicated nurses, Lauren realized that she was in a bad mood. A bad mood that had given her a persistent headache and little to no patience at all with her work.

Suddenly, she froze, blinking rapidly. Her staff had crept away from the lab, citing their various duties as an excuse, she knew, to get away from her. But someone was standing in the doorway – she could feel their presence above the humming of the overhead lights and the equipment that turned with an electrical monotone on the far side of the lab.

“I’m busy,” she said loudly. But there was no discernable movement behind her and, finally turning in her chair, her eyes lighted on the figure hovering nervously in the doorway. Quite without meaning to, her lips curved in a faint smile as she eyed the Succubus and for a moment, neither woman spoke.

Lauren let out a sigh and inclined her head, adopting a more agreeable tone. “I was wondering when you’d turn up,” she said quietly.

Bo took a few steps forward into the lab and then stopped by the empty gurney in the center of the room. Her fingers picked at the edge of the white sheet thrown over it and she shrugged.

“I woke up and you were gone.”

Lauren lifted a hand and waved her fingers in the air casually, carelessly. “The Ash wants answers on this case. And you know as well as I do that what The Ash wants… ” Her voice trailed away and she rolled her eyes, letting her hand fall back onto her lap.

Frowning a little, Bo moved forwards again, this time coming around the end of the gurney and approaching the doctor. “I wanted to check if you were okay… after last night, I mean.” The Succubus’ voice was hesitant, filled with apology and regret. Her gaze lingered over the turtleneck that Lauren was wearing, covering what Bo was sure were marks on the doctor’s throat. She swallowed, her chest aching.

But Lauren merely shrugged and swung her chair around so that she was once more facing the microscope. “Of course I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Are you serious?” Bo gasped a little, darting over to Lauren’s desk and leaning onto the hard, white surface. “I remember how I treated you, Lauren. I don’t know why I said that stuff. I went to The Dal, fed from a Fae and then came home to you. Somewhere along the way, I just… I got a bit crazy.”

She laughed apologetically, embarrassed, and searched Lauren’s face for any sign of recrimination. But the doctor’s features were smooth, composed in an expression of acknowledgement, but nothing more. Standing up, Bo frowned, anxiety drawing lines across her brow.

“Well,” Lauren shrugged, “different kinds of Fae energy will probably affect you in different ways. How do you feel now?”

“Uh… fine… I feel fine,” Bo answered, folding her arms over her chest. “When I gave you my energy… ” she caught her breath at the memory and swiped a hand over her forehead. “I think that helped… I mean, I think it took the edge off or something. Does that make sense?”

“Mm. Maybe,” Lauren said non-committally. She pushed at her hair and was about to elucidate further when Bo’s gaze narrowed suspiciously, darting to the doctor’s exposed arm as the sleeve of her lab coat rose up.

“What’s that?” Bo’s eyes widened as alarm lifted her tone. She saw how Lauren glanced at her wrist, espying the shadowed marks that marred her pale skin. Finger marks. The marks that bore reminders of the previous night and of Bo’s unbridled strength. With a trembling hand, Bo reached out to touch, to soothe as best she was able, but the doctor snatched her wrist away and pushed it into her lap.

“It’s nothing,” Lauren muttered, tugging at the cuff of her lab coat and turning away from the Succubus.

“Did I do that?” Bo leaned forwards again, peering into Lauren’s face. “Jesus, Lauren. Did I do that to you?” she repeated, guilt thickening her throat and spiraling deep into the pit of her stomach. “Is that why you’re wearing that?” She pointed a finger towards Lauren’s turtleneck.

“I said it’s nothing,” Lauren told her in a sharp tone.

“It’s not nothing!” Bo cried, her voice horribly loud in the stillness of the lab. She could hear the tears in her own voice, feel them welling in the corners of her eyes.

“Alright,” Lauren turned once more and fixed Bo with a dispassionate gaze. “It’s not nothing. You’re a Succubus, Bo. A strong, powerful Fae. I suppose last night I found out just how strong.”

There was a serenity to the doctor’s tone that sliced a painful line of hurt into Bo’s chest and she reeled backwards as though Lauren had struck her. She’d seen Lauren detach herself before, but with other Fae; those whose behavior and presence had no emotional ramifications for the doctor. And as Lauren blinked calmly, Bo heard her own heart pounding in her ears with the steady toll of a death knell.

“I never wanted to hurt you,” she blurted. “I didn’t know I was… you have to believe me, Lauren. I don’t want to – “

“I know,” Lauren interjected, her mask slipping for a moment as she shook her head and sighed. But she seemed almost impatient and brushed Bo’s words aside with a wave of her hand. “I know you didn’t mean it. Or the things you said.”

“It kind of looks like I meant it,” Bo murmured in a troubled, unsettled tone.

Now Lauren stood and, reaching out, put her hand onto Bo’s shoulder. The touch was intimate, familiar. And Bo responded to it, almost pathetically grateful for the contact, taking a step forwards and even half-smiling in relief.

Before the doctor could help it, a laugh bubbled from Lauren’s throat and she shook her head as though she were a parent admonishing a small child’s errant behavior.

“Oh, Bo,” she said in a voice that was oddly silken and indulgent. “Of course you didn’t mean it. You never do.”

Bo’s smile froze. There was something about Lauren’s tone, about the delicate smile curving her mouth; something not quite right. Her gestures were kind – her voice more so. But there was a coldness in her gaze that made Bo pause and she stood rigid as Lauren’s hand slid from her shoulder.

“You always lose your temper,” Lauren stated, wandering across to the shelves where she kept samples. “You always come back. You always apologize and we carry on. It doesn’t mean you’re bad. It just means you’re… ” she paused, searching for the right word before nodding to herself. “You’re immature,” she finished, glancing over her shoulder and giving Bo a tight smile.

Turning back to the shelves, Lauren reached up and picked a test tube from the rack in front of her, turning it in her fingers and staring at the label.

“You rarely mean anything you say when you’ve been feeding,” she murmured absently, blatantly ignoring the aghast expression flooding the Succubus’ features. “The marks will fade,” she shrugged, “and we can forget all about last night if you’d rather. I’m fine, apart from a headache.”

Brandishing the test tube like some sort of trophy, she nodded. “Which is just as well, considering I have the Dark’s medical advisor coming to the lab today.”

Now Bo moved, her head jerking back on her neck. “Sagi?” she said, her voice rising. “That… that bastard’s coming here?”

“Like I said,” Lauren answered, moving briskly back across the lab to her desk, “The Ash wants answers.” She set the test tube onto the waiting rack beside the microscope, lining it up carefully with the others already there.

“Have you forgotten what he did to you?” Bo leaned down, her voice tight. “How he sold you out to the Dark?”

Lauren smiled patiently and turned, looking into Bo’s eyes. “No, I haven’t forgotten,” she answered. “But this is work, Bo. It’s not personal. Perhaps one day you’ll understand. You really don’t have a great deal of success with separating the different parts of your life, do you?”

She glanced up at the Succubus and a smirk lifted the corner of her mouth almost before she felt it there. Bo straightened, stepped back, jaw hardening defensively. Half-rising from her seat, Lauren shook her head and put a hand to her mouth for a second, reality surging into her brain. For a second, she blinked, bewildered as though waking from a lucid dream.

“Oh God, I’m sorry,” she whispered, traces of apology in her voice. “That came out wrong.”

“It’s fine.” Bo’s tone indicated that it very much wasn’t. Lauren sank back into her chair and watched as the Succubus squared her shoulders before gazing down at the doctor. “You’re pissed. I get that. I just wanted to check you were okay and seeing as you obviously are… ”

“Bo, I… I’m sorry. I’m not angry with you, I promise.” Lauren’s voice was urgent, a hint of distress coloring its edges. “I think I’m just stressed with this whole thing and with Sagi coming here and… look, last night was a little weird for both of us. But from now on, you’ll be a little more careful who you feed from. Won’t you?” She lifted her eyebrows and Bo nodded slowly.

“Okay. Good.” She smacked her palms down onto the arms of her chair and sprang to her feet. “You should go,” she said, pushing at Bo’s shoulder. “Sagi will be arriving soon and I think it’s probably a good idea if you weren’t here when that happens.”

Finding herself propelled towards the doorway, Bo frowned at Lauren. “Afraid I can’t control myself?” she asked, half-amused, unsure whether Lauren’s inference was intentional or not.

They reached the doorway and Lauren put her hands around Bo’s face. Stroking the other woman’s cheekbone with her thumb, the doctor smiled. And there it was, that dull sheen again, filling Lauren’s eyes with a darker, murky shade of brown. Bo felt the pressure of Lauren’s fingers on her face increase slightly as the doctor’s smile widened.

“I’m not afraid you can’t control yourself, Bo.” Lauren’s voice was intimate, almost seductive. She laughed a little before letting go of Bo’s face, her fingers trailing a line of distant promise down the Succbus’ skin.

“I know you can’t,” she added. Before Bo could open her mouth to protest, Lauren pushed at her upper arm. “You really should go,” she said agitatedly, her gaze flickering down the corridor outside.

“I’ll… I’ll see you later?” Bo said, as the bruises of Lauren’s words began to hurt.

“What? Oh – yes. Of course,” Lauren said distractedly. Another hurried shove at Bo’s shoulder and the Succubus loped away as the doctor returned to her desk. As she sat down again, Lauren caught sight of the ugly marks on her wrists and pressed her lips together. She hadn’t lied to Bo; in fact, she’d rationalized those marks away the second she’d seen them this morning. She’d managed to justify everything Bo said and did. Just like she always had. Probably always would, too. And she did feel fine. In fact, she mused, leaning back in her chair, she felt better than she had done in weeks. Perhaps even months.

Apart from the damn headache, her lip curled resentfully. Lifting a hand, she pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes. She couldn’t afford to be the slightest bit off her game if she was going to work with Sagi all day.

Two-faced son of a bitch.

The thought was in her head and she reveled in it before opening her eyes and blinking. Shocked at her own ferocity, Lauren sat up in the chair, quite taken aback. For all the reasons she might have for disliking Sagi and the way he operated, she’d never resorted to pointless name-calling. She hadn’t even really been angry at him – he was just following orders, like she did. It was the way the Dark worked; how they had survived. She had been their prey. Like Bo was now.

None of that, however, explained where her vicious thought had sprung from. And the way she’d spoken to Bo…

Grimacing, she rubbed at the spot above her eyes, fingers digging in hard. It was probably the headache making her impatient; making her ill at ease. A couple of painkillers and she’d be fine again, just like she was when she woke up this morning. Like she’d been just a few moments ago.

“Dr Lewis?” The voice of one of her staff nurses came from the doorway and she swung round in her chair to face him.

“He’s here.”

Nodding, Lauren acknowledged Sagi’s arrival and took a deep breath. Headache or not, she was going to need every ounce of tact and skill if she was going to get through this day.

Part 25

“You seem a little distracted, Dr Lewis.” Sagi looked up from the row of test tubes in front of him, casting an inquisitive gaze toward the doctor opposite. They had worked in silence for the last hour, during which Sagi had sneaked glances at Lauren, a frown of curiosity working its way across his brow.

She sat at her desk, papers strewn across it. But she hadn’t looked at them for a good five minutes or so, instead staring sightlessly across the lab, lost in thought. As his deep, melodious voice broke the quiet hum of the room, she jerked in her chair, looking at him.

“I’m… I’m thinking about the uh… ” She gestured at the papers in front of her and cleared her throat. “These cases,” she finished.

Sagi squeezed the pipette in his fingers, dropping liquid into one of the test tubes then picking it up, swirling it in a circular motion for a few seconds. His eyes glanced towards Lauren momentarily, the piercing blue taking on a mischievous gleam.

“I must admit,” he said slowly, “that your research is significantly more well-developed than I had anticipated.” He replaced the test tube in its rack and looked up again, meeting Lauren’s gaze. Ah, she was vaguely offended. Good.

When The Morrigan had demanded his presence in the Light Fae labs, Sagi’s first reaction had been to refuse point blank. But then, nobody ever really refused The Morrigan anything and his naturally inquisitive nature had gotten the better of him. Dr Lewis was more accomplished than most doctors he knew of – human or Fae. So he had comforted his pride with the fact that working with her would at least fulfill his professional requirements, if not his personal ones.

Besides, he reasoned, there was always the added bonus of teasing poor Dr Lewis a little. Or a lot. And, judging from the expression on her face right now, he had succeeded in doing just that.

“You sound surprised.” Lauren clasped her hands together and viewed him with some suspicion.

Tilting his head onto one side, Sagi eyed her a little more carefully. He’d always found her intriguing – the way she tried so hard to integrate herself into Fae society while all the time knowing that it would never fully accept her. She seemed to possess elements of the eternal optimism he’d seen in the human race. Or, he reasoned, it could have merely been a persistent arrogance that expected and demanded inclusion. It both amused and faintly disgusted him – that humans thought they could insinuate themselves upon all manner of societies that simply didn’t want or need them.

Although, given the research he had consumed with greedy eyes, perhaps Fae society could benefit from Dr Lewis’ vast skill and attentive nature.

Not that he’d ever tell her that, of course.

“Surprised? Not really,” he claimed, under her watchful eyes. “I was under the impression that the Light didn’t know a great deal about this drug.”

Lauren let out a huff of dismissive laughter. “We don’t,” she said. She noticed how Sagi flinched slightly at the collective term, but he said nothing. She wasn’t sure whether she’d done it purposely to irritate him or whether that was how she really felt – sometimes she considered herself more Fae than human. More Fae than Bo, certainly.

Sagi shrugged, gesturing at the row of test tubes in front of him. “I wouldn’t say that, doctor. There’s a good deal of useful information here.”

“Which we can’t do anything with until we have a live sample,” Lauren protested.

“Yes, that does pose something of a problem.” Sagi murmured. “And that’s not something your little ah… friend can help you with?” He emphasized the word with such inordinate pleasure that Lauren felt a flare of anger in her chest. She tried to resist it, but it rose in her throat like roiling acid and she felt her hands clench the arms of her chair in annoyance.

“If you’re talking about Bo, then she tried.”

“Ah yes,” Sagi nodded, his eyes crinkling as though he was trying to dredge up memories of the Succubus. “Bo. Such a tempestuous nature. Such passion.” He inclined his head as though in fondness, yet his tone dripped with inherent superiority.

“But then, you already know that, don’t you Dr Lewis?”

This time, Lauren didn’t even try to resist the anger as it coursed through her veins. Standing, she marched over to the desk where Sagi was working and folded her arms over her chest.

“I respect you and your work,” she said, a slight tremor in her voice. “And I do that even though you work for the Dark. Even though you tricked me out of my files and research and used me for your own gain.”

Now he really was surprised, eyes widening as he straightened and towered over her. He blinked, just once, then continued staring at her as though she was some sort of unidentified specimen he had just found.

“The least you can do,” Lauren continued, meeting Sagi’s eyes with a steely gaze, “is to show a little respect for me.” He recoiled slightly and she bristled at the inference; at the disdain for humans that he never even bothered trying to hide.

“And yet,” Sagi countered, finding his voice at last, “the Light chose to ask me for help. It’s difficult to find respect for someone who has to beg, don’t you think? But then, I’m sure your tragic little fling with the Succubus has probably taught you that. It must be hard, vying for her attention with all the tasty treats she’s been sampling lately.”

He shrugged carelessly and waved his hand in the air. “I’m just pointing out the facts. One scientist to another. I’m sure you understand, doctor.”

Moving closer, Lauren was only aware of a red mist swirling around her head. A fog that dampened restraint and smothered her natural tendencies towards caution. Sagi was huge, his expansive chest and broad shoulders almost throwing her into shadow. And if his physical presence wasn’t imposing enough, then the expression in his eyes most certainly was. She could see that she’d offended him with her boldness; his nostrils flared and his jaw hardened as he gazed down at her. But none of that seemed to matter, much less threaten Lauren into silence.

“I can guarantee that I like this less than you do,” she told him. “You look down on us. You look down on me. And I know that I’m just a human that you think you can judge and dismiss, but I have to draw the line at you doing that to Bo. Talk to me about the work, talk to me about this drug, talk to me about the Light if you really have to but never… ever talk to me about her again.”

There followed a silence in which Sagi considered punishment. Retribution, even. He’d sensed something different about the human today from the moment he’d entered the lab. She seemed agitated, ill at ease with herself and initially he had put it down to his presence in her sanctuary; the simple necessity of his having to be here at all. But as she glared at him, he knew it was something else. Something he couldn’t define but something that had roused his species’ natural curiosity.

His eyes narrowed as he weighed up his options and finally he decided that it might be worth seeing where this was going. Humans and their moods were so fascinating, after all. So he took a step back and turned his attentions to the test tubes once more, peering down at them as he shook his head a little.

“Very well,” he said in a considered tone. Lauren shifted a little and relaxed, her shoulders dropping from the tense shape they’d made by his side. “But you know she won’t stay with you, don’t you? That she can’t.” It was a small pleasure that he gleaned from stating the obvious, from reiterating rules that Lauren knew only too well. But he indulged in it anyway; pleasure at the expense of a human – however small – was still a pleasure nonetheless.

Still smarting from his veiled insults, Lauren shook her head and turned away. “I know,” she said lightly, half-surprised at the calmness of her voice. “But you know that she’ll never choose the Dark, don’t you? That she’ll never forgive you for what you did and that The Morrigan will probably hold you partly, if not fully, responsible for that.”

She glanced over her shoulder and was oddly pleased to see his aggrieved expression. The emotion felt strange in her chest, as though it wasn’t supposed to be there – not at her own behest. But she couldn’t resist the triumph that quickened her pace as she returned to her desk and sat down again, nor could she stop that feeling from unwisely loosening her tongue yet again.

“I’m just pointing out the facts,” she told him as he glowered across the lab at her. “One scientist to another. I’m sure you understand, doctor.”

Satisfied that she had dealt a final blow, she nodded to herself. At the back of her mind, she was aware that speaking out of turn was a dangerous path to take; that even though exhilaration was thrumming up and down her spine, it simply wasn’t politic to do so. But the more she thought about it, the less she found that she truly cared. And a cruel, foolhardy victory was still a victory, after all, wasn’t it?

Lauren began to smile as she turned back to the papers on her desk. Her headache was beginning to dissipate, along with her inhibitions. She reached up and tucked her hair behind one ear, allowing justification to follow on the heels of any doubts she might have felt. Sagi was a means to an end, that was all. His opinions mattered very little; his prejudices, even less.

With a renewed sense of purpose, Lauren reached forwards and pulled some of her notes towards her. All that really mattered was the work. Because when Bo left – and she would, eventually – that was all that would remain.

***

Kenzi sucked noisily on her straw, trying to scoop up the last drops of milkshake so that she could rationalize having paid so much for it. Or having paid at all, she thought grimly with a sideways glance at Bo. She remembered when they had no money and Bo had seduced free meals out of waitresses and pizza delivery boys alike. And it wasn’t as if they were rolling in cash right now, but Bo had adroitly refused to scam the rather impressionably young waitress out of a milkshake and two burgers. In fact, Kenzi thought to herself, Bo had seemed distinctly unwilling to use her abilities in any way that might save them a few dollars.

They had come to this diner on the pretense of talking about clients, but Kenzi knew that work was the last thing on Bo’s mind. Ever since they’d sat down, the Succubus had been withdrawn and pensive, often looking out of the window by their booth and sighing to herself. Now they’d finished eating and the beginnings of a disapproving frown were etching their way over Bo’s face, Kenzi finally put her glass back onto the table and reclined in her seat.

“Are you going to tell me what’s up?” she said, breaking the silence that had become too much for her to bear.

“Huh?” Bo blinked. “What’s up with what?”

“You tell me,” Kenzi insisted. “You’ve been sitting there like a Succubus with a sore head for the last hour. It was almost enough to put me off my burger.”

Bo’s gaze drifted down to Kenzi’s empty plate where not even one crumb remained of the huge plate of food the girl had consumed. Her eyebrows rose and she half-smiled. “And yet you literally licked the plate clean. Yeah, I can see how offputting it must have been for you.”

“I said ‘almost’,” Kenzi responded, holding up a finger of rebuke. “A girl’s gotta eat, right?”

“If by ‘girl’, you mean you, then sure,” Bo nodded. “And you do, all the time.”

“I have a healthy appetite,” Kenzi said huffily, folding her arms over her chest and eyeing the half-eaten burger on Bo’s plate with something akin to avaricious intent. But the disconsolate expression that wormed its way back onto the Succubus’ features distracted her and she decided that, if she were to finish Bo’s burger, she didn’t want to do it under the shadow of such a glum expression.

“So come on, spill,” she urged. “What’s going on with you? You’ve barely said a word all day.”

Bo shrugged and looked out of the window at the busy street outside. She watched as a couple sauntered past the shop windows opposite, pausing to look at something before laughing and linking arms, moving on. A pang of resentment flooded her throat and she scowled before returning her gaze to the expectant eyes across the table.

“Lauren was… kinda off today,” she said, aware that she sounded as vague as she felt. She’d left the Fae labs in a state of confusion, oscillating between understanding Lauren’s coldness and being utterly crushed by it.

Kenzi’s mouth opened for a moment before she drew breath and let it out again in a grumbling sigh. “You two have a lover’s spat? That’s what gave you the sadface?” Rolling her eyes, she shook her head. She didn’t understand Bo and Lauren. Well, she reasoned, she could understand why they were attracted to one another, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on how or why it worked between them.

Not that she ever would put her finger on it, even if she did figure it out, she thought with not a grim little smile. Nor any other part of her anatomy.

“No,” Bo shook her head, frown deepening. “We didn’t argue or anything. She was just… ”

“Off?” Kenzi offered, as Bo nodded slowly. “What did you do?” she demanded.

Bo’s mouth fell open in surprise. “Why do you assume it’s something I’ve done?” she asked, her voice rising in offense.

“Because HotPants never loses her temper,” Kenzi stated confidently. She leaned forwards, resting her elbows onto the table. “I mean,” she added, “I’m not entirely sure she has one to lose. Girl can be a bit like a… ” She waved her hand around thoughtfully as Bo shifted in her seat.

“Doormat?” Bo suggested woefully.

“I was gonna go with robot, but sure. Doormat is fine.”

“Kenzi… ” The Succubus’ voice was low with recrimination, but she dismissed the insult in light of what had happened in the lab earlier and how had niggled at the back of her mind all day. “Lauren wasn’t angry,” she told Kenzi. “She was just… I dunno, kind of weird. Like she wanted to hurt me but felt bad about it.”

Letting out a mirthless laugh, she shook her head and rolled her eyes. “I guess that doesn’t really make much sense.”

Shrugging, Kenzi pushed her plate further towards the center of the table and looked longingly at Bo’s half-eaten burger. “Something I’ve gotten used to with you,” she said dryly. “But Lauren’s got a lot of shit going on though, right? Maybe she’s getting a whole bunch of crap from the… ”

She glanced around the diner and lowered her voice to a ridiculously loud whisper. “From the Fae.”

“No more than usual,” Bo grumbled, the corners of her mouth turning down in distaste. In theory, she understood why the Fae – and especially The Ash – treated Lauren the way they did. She at least knew that much about the world they inhabited. But she hated the constant reminders of Fae discrimination: Lauren’s necklace that lay by the side of their bed, the demands on her time that she never questioned, or the disdain that Lauren endured because of her humanity.

Taking a breath and sitting up a little, Bo picked at a few stray fries on the edge of her plate. Lauren had seemed different this morning. The way that she’d smiled, smug and condescending, never mind what she’d said about Bo being unable to keep control. Lauren had always insisted that she could – even been integral in making that happen in the first place. There had been a vague sense of cruelty to Lauren’s touch, to her words. It was an emotion that had never before typified the doctor, not ever. If Bo didn’t know any better – and she was sure that she did – she might have suspected that Lauren was purposely pushing her away.

“Do you think she’s getting bored of me?” she asked.

Kenzi’s head jerked back on her neck before she let out a chortle of amusement. “Bored?” she echoed. “Bo, that woman is crazy about you. You know, what with the whole nearly dying thing to protect you. Besides, there are a lot of words I could use to describe you and ‘boring’ isn’t one of them.” She nodded assertively, pleased with her judgment.

A tiny smile fled across Bo’s lips and she sighed again, shoulders slumping. “Things got a bit weird last night,” she confessed in a quiet voice. “Sexually, I mean.”

“No explanations necessary,” Kenzi said, holding up a hand. She caught Bo’s eye and her mouth formed a moue of resistance. “Seriously,” she added. “Please don’t explain. I really don’t wanna know about your bondage fun.”

“It wasn’t like that!” Bo couldn’t help laughing, despite herself. But her grin faded almost as suddenly as it had appeared and she frowned, troubled by the memories of her hands on Lauren, of the doctor’s pleas and how she’d ignored them.

“She’ll get over it,” Kenzi said, nudging Bo’s boot under the table with her own foot. “She loves you, Bo. We all act out from time to time. Remember when I tried to kill you in our own home?”

“You were infected by a giant evil spider, Kenz,” Bo said. “You weren’t… y’know, you.”

“Right!” Kenzi held up a triumphant finger before Bo’s words fully sunk in and she was forced to admit that she hadn’t come up with perhaps the best example of odd behavior. “Hm,” she said, disappointedly. “Right. Good point.”

Then, sitting up straight with a bright smile across her face, Kenzi tilted her head onto one side. “Wanna go smash up a car?” she suggested. “Might be good for what ails ya.”

“Aw, that’s sweet,” Bo said, rolling her eyes. “But no, thanks. I have to try and figure out what happened to Kendra.”

“Do you still think The Ash did it?”

Bo folded her arms over her chest and shrugged, grim-faced. “I don’t know,” she answered. “But I wouldn’t put anything past him. The Light are as bad as the Dark when it comes to treating their people like shit. I should never have told them about Kendra,” she said regretfully.

“You thought you were doing the right thing,” Kenzi said in a comforting tone. “It’s not your fault they’re controlling assholes.”

“But it is my fault someone trashed Kendra’s home,” Bo said dolefully. “And it’s my fault she’s gone.”

“Bo,” Kenzi said firmly, reaching over the table to touch the Succubus’ elbow for a moment, “Kendra had given up on everything. You saw how she lived… how she existed. You might have done her a favor.” The girl’s face was filled momentarily with the clouds of memories that she’d tried so hard to forget. Shifting, she pulled her hand back, fingers trailing over the table top.

“I’ll never believe that,” Bo murmured, her mind flooded with Kendra’s dull eyes and her detachment from the world. The girl had become entrenched in a world that simply didn’t exist – a world where drugs gave false hope of escape and an all too brief sojourn from the strictures of Fae life. Kendra, in her own way, had been as desperate as the addicts she supplied: unhappy in ways that Bo couldn’t even imagine and didn’t want to experience.

“Anyway,” she said suddenly, eager to leave those sorts of thoughts behind, “you coming with?”

“I have just one question,” Kenzi said, as Bo half-rose from her seat. The Succubus sat back down again, eyebrows lifting in enquiry.

“Are you done with that burger? Cuz it seems a shame to waste it and we did pay… ”

Part 26

Dyson’s heavy footfalls broke the quiet of the lab seconds before the gurney was wheeled in behind him. Both Lauren and Sagi looked up from their desks and then exchanged glances of grim curiosity as they moved forwards at exactly the same time. But it was to Lauren that Dyson looked, turning his shoulder to Sagi in silent yet pointed animosity.

“Died in his own home,” he stated blankly without preamble. “Same MO as the others.”

Moving around the gurney, Lauren looked down at the pale-skinned corpse, taking in the shock of blonde hair and the green eyes that were open and lifeless in an almost impossibly handsome face. He was young, for a Fae; young and vital. He shouldn’t be here – shouldn’t be lying dead in front of her. She’d learned not to feel sorrow for the bodies she examined, brought before her like some warped sacrificial offering.

Detachment hadn’t come easily, though. As a doctor, she had worked hard to preserve life, not end it. But being dispassionate in the face of death was a talent she had necessarily cultivated. So as she stared down at the Fae covered by nothing other than a white sheet, she was able to acknowledge a sense of loss without it affecting her completely.

“Dammit,” she muttered to herself. “When is this going to end?”

“Not soon enough for The Ash,” Dyson rumbled, close to her shoulder. She glanced at him and he shrugged somewhat helplessly.

“May I?” Sagi’s voice made them turn and they watched as he hovered delicately on the other side of the gurney. He gestured towards the corpse, his bright blue eyes filled with an almost gleeful interest.

Dyson mumbled something under his breath that Lauren couldn’t quite catch, but she frowned at him anyway and gave a quick nod to the other doctor. “Please,” she said, as Sagi bent over the dead body and began examining it.

“I called Bo.” The detective leaned in close to Lauren and lowered his voice.

Lauren frowned, looking up at him with reproving eyes. “What? Why?”

Surprised, his head jerked back on his neck and he opened his mouth at her vociferous tone. She seemed irritated. But more than that, she seemed to hold him personally responsible for the annoyance etching lines across her face.

“Because she’s been involved in this case from the beginning?” he suggested.

Rolling her eyes, Lauren puffed out her cheeks and sighed loudly. Sagi glanced up from the body and she met his eyes with a hard gaze before curling her fingers around Dyson’s arm and leading him away from the gurney, out of the Fae’s earshot.

“Dyson,” she began in a cold tone, “don’t you think that bringing Bo here isn’t exactly the best idea?” Her gaze flickered towards Sagi again and she shook her head. “You know how The Ash feels about her, never mind asking her to come here while Sagi’s in the lab.”

She shook her head at him with all the recrimination of a schoolteacher he’d once had in his youth. If the impatience he saw hadn’t been so uncharacteristic for her, Dyson might have found it amusing. But his lips formed a grim line as he stared down at her, somewhat confused as to where this was going – and where it was coming from.

“Is everything okay between you two?” he dared ask, and instantly wished he hadn’t. Lauren pulled herself up to her full height and stared stonily at him.

“It’s fine,” she snapped, making it blatantly clear that it wasn’t. “And you really need to keep your paws off my personal business. This is work, Dyson, not some sorority meeting. Don’t expect me to share my feelings with you over cupcakes.” There was a haughty tone to her voice that made him blink in bemused surprise and he took a step back, holding up his hands in supplication and defense.

“Alright, Doc,” he said in a gruff voice. “Just trying to be social.”

Lauren let out a noise of dissatisfaction and shook her head. “And if you focused on the case rather than being social,” she said the last word with distaste, “then we might have more answers and less dead bodies.” She gestured toward the gurney once more and her lip curled slightly.

“Fascinating.” Sagi lifted his head and looked towards the two of them, a faint smile curving his mouth. “No signs of struggle. He was apparently in good health before he died. There are absolutely no indicators to suggest how he expired.”

“Which is nothing new,” Lauren said briskly, marching over towards the gurney. “The exact same thing could be said of all the victims.”

“So this drug kills Fae and leaves no trace,” Sagi murmured, half to himself. “That’s really quite brilliant.”

“Not the word I’d use to describe it,” Dyson muttered, sauntering across the lab to join Lauren and Sagi.

The Dark Fae smiled indulgently and his piercing blue gaze wandered over Dyson’s features as though he was looking at a specimen underneath his microscope. “Well,” he said thoughtfully, “you always were possessed of a somewhat limited vocabulary, weren’t you Dyson?”

The detective bristled, but was wise enough not to give voice to the retort that sprang to his lips. He folded his arms over his chest and glared at the Dark Fae as Lauren let out an impatient sigh beside him.

“I’ll order the same tests we carried out on the other victims, but this thing dissipates the moment the body dies. I don’t expect we’ll find out much more than we have already.” She looked down at the body on the gurney, mouth twisting in frustration. Her headache had returned, tightening the nerves at the back of her neck. She felt any and all tolerance for the two Fae fade, replaced by an agitation that clutched angrily in her chest.

“Hey, I came as soon as I got your call,” Bo’s voice reached them as she rushed into the lab, stopping short of the gurney and blinking at Dyson and Lauren. “What have we got?”

Sagi let out a delighted noise and smiled widely at the Succubus. “Ah, and as soon as we have a dead Fae on the table, she arrives.” His voice was like liquid silk, heightening Lauren’s annoyance and eliciting a glowering glance from Bo.

“Tell me,” he continued, aware of the rising tension in the room and reveling in it, “do you follow the trail of dead bodies or is it the other way around? You do seem to have a penchant for being… ” He paused, as though in deep contemplation. “Well,” he finally said, “a little on the violent side, shall we say?”

“Sure,” Bo nodded sharply, her hands curling into fists by the side of her body. “Wanna see it close up?” Her chin jutted out in implicit threat and Sagi chuckled to himself, incensing her all the more. She took a step towards him and, instead of backing away under her dark gaze, Sagi only laughed again with all the delectation of a gleeful child.

“We don’t have time for this,” Lauren interjected, fixing both of them with a glowering gaze. She noticed how Bo’s expression faded from insolence to confusion and refused to meet the Succubus’ gaze. Traces of earlier hurt lingered around Bo’s eyes, seeping into her stance as her shoulders slumped a little and she glanced away from the doctor.

But Sagi was not to be so easily quieted and instead seemed gratified by the apparent strain between the doctor and the Succubus. “Oh, I don’t know,” he said, tilting his head onto one side and looking between the two women with barely disguised interest. “One should always make time for an exploration of what makes us unique, don’t you think?”

“How about I make time for an exploration of your face with my fist?” Bo growled, moving towards him again, past the head of the gurney.

“Bo! Please!” Lauren’s voice rose in reprimand that fell harshly from her mouth. Beside her, Dyson frowned. He’d seen the Doc angry before, but she rarely gave vent to it, and certainly never shouted.

“If you’re going to be here,” Lauren said sharply to Bo, “then the least you can do is respect the work that we’re trying to do.” As Sagi’s face assumed a smug expression, she turned to him and shook her head. “And you,” she jerked her chin towards him, “are here by the grace of The Ash. Don’t assume that gives you free rein to push your own agenda.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose, willing her headache to go away. She was tired of this. Tired of them.

“Holy shit.”

Bo’s hushed exclamation effectively silenced any retort Sagi might have made and three pairs of eyes turned to her as she stood gazing down at the body on the gurney.

“I know this guy,” she told them, pointing down at the corpse. “He was in The Dal the other night and… ” A faint flush colored her cheeks as she remembered how she’d fed from him, how he’d grabbed at her with fingers that were now pale and lifeless. How the after-effects of her feed had taken her to Lauren with increasing haste and urgency.

She found that she was unable to meet Lauren’s enquiring eyes lest she might feel the remnants of that night pricking her conscience once more. She still felt guilty about her words and actions; still felt shame blurring the edges of their sexual encounter, confusingly mixed with the thrill it had provided and the desire to repeat it.

“And?” Dyson rumbled, as Bo lifted her head to look at him.

“I fed from him,” she answered, shifting uncomfortably.

“And now he’s dead,” Sagi commented, nodding.

“I didn’t do it!” Bo protested, eyes widening. “I don’t drain Fae. He was fine when I left him.” She recalled how he had slumped against the wall outside The Dal, grinning widely and telling her that offering himself up for her sustenance was the second most daring thing he’d done that week. But the sensations whipping around her head had compelled her to leave, to take her physical fill elsewhere. And even though he had been handsome and willing, Bo knew that he couldn’t give her what she truly needed.

“I didn’t kill him,” she said in a low voice, finally looking at Lauren. As their eyes met, Bo could glean no indication of how the doctor felt. No sign that Lauren was thinking about what had happened afterwards. There was only a dull acknowledgement that swam briefly in pools of brown before they returned to the body on the table in front of them.

“If he’d died from a Succubus feed, we’d see more visible indicators,” Lauren stated in implied agreement. “Bo, when you fed, did he have any outward signs of being under the effects of narcotics?”

“Not that I noticed,” Bo shrugged. “But it’s not like I was, you know, looking for them or anything. Even if I knew what I was looking for,” she added dolefully.

“What about his behavior?” Dyson suggested. “You and Kenzi said that the other victims changed after taking the drug.”

“He was… ” Bo began, and once again avoided Lauren’s gaze. “He was, uh, okay. I mean,” she added hastily, “he was nice, I guess.”

“Nice? Well that’s less than helpful,” Lauren muttered as Bo’s features took on an aggrieved expression. Ignoring the Succubus, she looked over the gurney at Sagi. “Suggestions?” she demanded.

Sagi tilted his head onto one side and blinked slowly. “Succubae ingest energy from their victims, yes?”

Bo flinched at the word even as Lauren nodded curtly. It was hard not to see the people she fed from as unwilling participants, even when they very much weren’t. But she’d spent a decade perpetrating crimes against humanity and sometimes the weight of that threatened to cow her completely.

“It’s possible that the transfer of that energy might contain some elements of the narcotic,” Sagi continued, glancing at Bo with eyes that were alight in greedy interest.

“Wait,” Dyson held up a hand. “You think Bo might have this thing in her?”

“It’s possible,” Sagi shrugged, as Bo’s eyes flew open in alarm. “Perhaps we should run some tests on her.”

“I’m not your lab rat,” Bo snarled at him, trying to quell the growing sense of alarm in her chest. “And I’m fine,” she added firmly. “Lauren, I’m fine, really.” She moved from the head of the gurney towards the doctor, who had remained silent and contemplative until now. Reaching out, Bo put a hand on Lauren’s forearm and squeezed gently.

“I’m okay,” she said almost fearfully, peering into Lauren’s face. It was only then that she saw the softening of the doctor’s features, an expression she recognized blooming across Lauren’s face. Her heart clenched tightly, thankfully. Because when it mattered, transgressions could be forgiven, hard words forgotten and commitments renewed.

“Bo,” Lauren said softly, “if you fed from this Fae and if he was under the influence of this thing, then you might have ingested it.” Bo blanched and let go of her arm, but Lauren took a step closer to the Succubus and nodded gently. Her headache had disappeared as suddenly as it had begun, fading into the disparate fragments of tension that, even now, slid away from them.

“Let us check you out,” Lauren insisted, half-smiling in an effort to comfort both herself and the other woman. “It might be nothing.”

But she could tell that Bo didn’t really believe that. And, as she led the Succubus towards one of the booths on the other side of the lab, the fluttering panic in her gut told her that she didn’t really believe it either.

***

Taking the blood sample from Bo’s arm, Lauren passed it to one of her nurses who scurried away across the lab. Sagi had applied himself to the analysis of Bo’s DNA that they’d garnered and was, thankfully, otherwise occupied.

Pressing cotton wool onto the spot where she’d inserted the needle, Lauren reached for a band aid and smoothed it over Bo’s skin. Her fingers lingered slightly, curling around the Succubus’ arm and gently caressing the flexing muscles there as Bo made a fist.

“Do you think I’m infected?” Bo asked in a near whisper.

Lauren smiled, removing her latex gloves and throwing them into the surgical bin by the side of the gurney that Bo was sitting on. “I’m hoping not,” she answered, turning back to the Succubus and replacing her bare fingers onto Bo’s arm. She noticed how Bo shivered at her touch, at how the tiny nerve endings in her fingers gloried in the sensation of skin on skin and she moved closer, bumping up against Bo’s knees.

“And it’s not an infection,” she said, rubbing her thumb on the inside of Bo’s arm. “I’ve never seen anything like this before, much less how to treat it. I don’t even know if there is a treatment.”

“Hm,” Bo murmured, dipping her head and staring at Lauren’s fingers, taking what pleasure she could in their slow, deliberate movements down towards her own. As the doctor linked their hands together, she couldn’t resist a wry smile. “Your beside manner sucks, by the way.”

Lauren laughed gently. “When I was in medical school, we were always taught to break news gently to patients. One of my mentors even told me to bend the truth as far as it would go if I had to. But I won’t lie to you.” Her gaze drifted up Bo’s arm until it met two black pools of glistening light. “I’ll take care of you, I promise.”

“I know you will.” Bo smiled, inclining her head. “You always do. And I really am sorry about the other night. I don’t ever want to hurt you, Lauren. Not ever.”

Turning Lauren’s hand over in her own, Bo frowned at the marks on the doctor’s wrist that had purpled slightly. She tenderly traced her thumb over one of them and let out a tiny sigh of pained apology. Usually she was able to rely on her strength – to use it for the acts she considered justified. Hurting bad people on behalf of those who were weak seemed like the right thing to do. It made her feel useful; wanted, even.

Hurting Lauren made her sick to her stomach.

“It wasn’t you,” Lauren said softly, but she turned her hand so that the marks were hidden once more. “And it wasn’t anything that doesn’t happen between other people.”

“Wasn’t it?” Bo asked, her face screwed up in dubious question. “How many other people do you know who have to live the sort of life we do?”

Letting go of Bo’s hand, Lauren chuckled and rolled her eyes. “Hundreds,” she joked, gratified by the reluctant grin that spread over Bo’s lips. For a moment, the lab melted away and they allowed simplicity to temper the fear that had snatched at them with cold, portentous fingers. “People are capable of doing terrible things to one another, Bo. Especially when they care deeply for each other.”

“I guess it’s never going to be normal for us, is it?” Bo observed.

“Probably not,” Lauren sighed. “But if I wanted normal I wouldn’t even be here in the first place and I’d be as ignorant of this world as most other humans.”

“But wouldn’t that be better for you? Safer, I mean?”

Lauren put her hand onto Bo’s shoulder, wishing she could smooth away the troubled expression on the Succubus’ face. Safety was such a relative term when it came to this world and she’d often wondered at how being a part of it had exposed her to things that terrified her. But when she considered how humans lived, ensconced in their bubbles of familiarity and innocence, she knew that she could never go back to that.

“Safer, maybe,” she said gently. “Boring, definitely. Being part of this world changed my life, Bo. It made everything colorful and bright and changed me. And it brought me to you. So how could living without that be better for me?”

She let go of the other woman and stood back, glancing down at the floor for a moment. Lauren had never espoused confessions; they always seemed a last resort once behavior failed to convey how the heart felt. And she shuffled her feet now, embarrassed at her own willingness to unfold the secrets of her emotions. Hiding had always protected her – shielding her heart from unwarranted attack had seemed the only way to move forwards in this world.

“Lauren?” Bo’s voice brought the doctor out of her reverie and she looked up to see a frown making its way over the Succubus’ face. “I feed to heal, right?”

Lauren nodded. “It’s one of the ways that you can heal yourself, yes.”

“And I fed from you the other night.”

Again, Lauren nodded, narrowing her gaze as she tried to work out what Bo was trying to say.

“But I gave you my energy, too.”

Memories of the exchange struck them both at the same time. How the sensation had heightened everything, throwing light onto the dark recesses of who they were, what they had done. Lauren’s heart jumped inside her chest and electric retrospect pumped through her veins, tingling into her nerve endings. She shivered as she remembered how it made her feel – how Bo made her feel. Barely able to admit it to herself, Lauren knew that she wanted that feeling again. Always. Even if it did make a hypocrite out of her.

“Which is tantamount to experiencing a high for most humans, from what I can tell,” Lauren responded, shaking her head. “We’re not really equipped to deal with Succubus energy,” she added, almost shamefacedly.

“No,” Bo held up a hand and leaned towards the doctor. “That’s not what I meant. You say that my feed might have passed this drug from that Fae to me.”

“It might have done, yes. But – “

“Lauren,” Bo said urgently, cutting off any counter-arguments that the doctor might have made. “I took your energy and replaced it with mine. With what was in me. And I know I felt different that night after I – after I gave you my… my chi, or whatever it was.”

Comprehension burned in Lauren’s throat. If Bo’s abilities acted as some sort of conduit, then it was entirely possible that the Succubus had not only healed herself, but also passed on whatever she’d ingested.

As Bo’s hand reached out to grip Lauren’s arm, the doctor stared into the wide, worried eyes opposite her. Bo’s cruel words and her rapacious need for Lauren began to make sense – began to fall into place and form a picture that the doctor saw etched in horrific clarity. Her head started to ache again as she blinked and searched for an explanation that might take away the increasing sense of panic in her chest.

“We don’t know if it works that way,” she said quietly, her voice sounding much more confident than she felt. “I’m human and… and this drug was created specifically for Fae. Human physiology is very different to Fae. There’s nothing to suggest that it would affect me the same way it affected our victims.”

She knew, deep down, that she was babbling. That her fear was being kept at bay only by her reliance on what was the bedrock of her life.

Or had been, she reminded herself, looking at Bo’s fingers wrapped around her arm.

“I’m probably fine,” she nodded. But the insistent headache that pulsed at the back of her neck and between her eyes suggested otherwise. And it was anger, not concern, that rose up in her stomach and made her clench her teeth.

Bo leaned forwards, shaking Lauren’s arm a little with an increasing sense of urgency. “Probably?” she echoed. “Probably’s not good enough, Lauren. You have to be sure. I have to be sure. You know that, right?”

Her eyebrows rose and the doctor finally met her gaze. Slowly, acquiescently, Lauren nodded and removed her arm from Bo’s grip, reaching up to tug at her lab coat and slide it from her shoulders.

“Go get a nurse,” she told Bo stiffly, turning her head away so that the Succubus couldn’t see worry creeping across her face. “Tell them they need to take a blood sample.”

Part 27

“This is unexpected.” The Ash looked up from the paperwork Lauren had given him and fixed her with an unwavering gaze. She had stood patiently by his desk while he scanned the results of tests Sagi had carried out. Loath to admit it, Lauren was forced to accept that having the Dark Fae in her lab had expedited the onerous task of analyzing blood samples and DNA. His expertise and familiarity with both Fae and human biology was astounding. She knew that part of it came from the vast amounts of research he had conned out of her, but underneath his stolen knowledge was a doctor whose dedication to and understanding of his work was beyond reproach.

Which is what makes him such a condescending ass, she thought to herself, almost before the words were fully formed in her head. Blinking, she dispelled them. If the results of her own tests were to be believed, then she needed to be clear-headed and not let personal feelings get in the way of anything. For as long as it lasted. For as long as she could fight it.

“Unexpected?” she tentatively asked, returning her attention to The Ash.

Dropping the papers onto his desk, he leaned back in his chair and looked her over carefully. She had come to him with developments that he hadn’t anticipated, much less thought possible. Having told him of her suspicions about Bo’s absorption of drug-laced Fae energy, Lauren had explained that she and Sagi had carried out a series of tests just to be sure.

“It’s no surprise that the Succubus is embroiled in this mess,” he said slowly. “She does have a habit of gravitating towards trouble. Or it to her,” he added.

“She was feeding,” Lauren said, hastily enough to quirk one of The Ash’s eyebrows upwards in recognition of her attempts to defend Bo. “She didn’t know that this Fae had taken the drug.”

“So it seems.” The Ash waved his hand in the air dismissively and shook his head. “I understand how she might have ingested the drug and its effects. What I’m unclear about is how you did.”

Grimacing, Lauren remembered the expression of delight on Sagi’s face as he’d garnered information about her blood and DNA. How he’d presented conclusive evidence to her and watched carefully as she tried to take it all in. She’d gone over it several times – perhaps too many times – in an effort to refute his claims, but the bare facts were very clear. She had elements of foreign bodies in her blood, and her DNA was showing signs of mutative breakdown. Early signs, of course, which she’d assumed were due to the diluted nature of the narcotic. But the trace evidence was there nonetheless.

And now The Ash was demanding answers as to how it got there in the first place. Lauren felt a flood of color wash over her cheeks and looked away from him, twisting her fingers together in an unusual wave of embarrassment. Because science could easily explain how energy passed from one individual to another could retain elements of its origin, but that wasn’t what The Ash was asking at all.

“She – Bo – gave me her… ” she began awkwardly, but The Ash held up his hand to stifle any excuses and gazed at her with a faint sadness in his eyes.

“Do you see now why being with her is dangerous for you?” he intoned.

Lauren glanced up at him, frowning. “If I was Fae it would have still happened,” she insisted sullenly.

“But you’re not. And taking Succubus energy is foolhardy and rash. I expected more from you, Lauren.”

The Ash’s tone sparked a pinprick of anger in her throat and she swallowed hard, trying to make it go away. She shifted, a sullen expression working its way over her face as she began to feel somewhat like an errant schoolchild in the Principal’s study.

“I allowed you to continue this ill-advised involvement with the Succubus because you promised you would bring her into the Light.”

“Bo,” she said suddenly, halting his recriminations and giving him cause to sit upright in his chair, surprised. “Her name’s Bo,” she added, jutting out her chin defiantly.

For a moment, he said nothing as twin lines formed on his forehead. Then, taking a short breath, he nodded to himself. “Child, of all people I thought you would have an understanding of the dangers in this world. Am I mistaken?”

“Dangers?” she echoed, aggrieved. “You mean like The Morrigan coming to my house… to my home and threatening me? Or do you mean the fact that you almost killed me to save your own pride?” Anger grated her tone, that pinprick in her throat swelling to thicken it with a ferocity she didn’t know she possessed. Her eyes were dark as she glared at The Ash, fear no longer a concern.

“You have no idea what it’s like for me,” she said, shaking her head. “How could you? Do you think I want to feel this way? Do you think I want to abandon everything I’ve worked for? Put myself in danger just by being here? Well, do you?” Lauren darted forwards, planting her hands onto the cool wooden surface of the desk, seeing her sudden movement reflected on the features of her mentor as his mouth hardened into a firm line of distaste.

She had never spoken to The Ash this way before – never wanted to. But how could he possibly hope to understand what it felt like to be surrounded by Bo’s passion; enveloped in it and seduced by the heights to which it thrust her? The Ash didn’t love; not in the conventional sense and, she was sure, not in a way that could be expressed by mere physicality. He was immune to Bo. He could never comprehend the dizzy, wanton ways in which she loved. The ways in which Lauren loved, too, when they were together. Yes; he was unaffected by such things. But Lauren? She was addicted to it.

Lifting a hand to her forehead and swiping her fingers across the skin there, Lauren felt it clammy and cold under her touch. She sank wearily into one of the chairs by her side and swallowed over the pressing emotion in her throat. This wasn’t what she wanted at all. Not the burgeoning tone of dissent that lifted her voice in anger, not the fire in her belly that flared with a conflagration of animosity, and absolutely not the desire to hurt and offend everything she held dear.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” she muttered, shaking her head. “I didn’t mean to… ” Drawing in a long, shuddering breath, Lauren averted her gaze and looked down at her lap, fingers twisting against one another. Fear traced chilling lines down her body and she dared not look at The Ash for what she might see on his face.

He looked on her with slightly kinder eyes. She was trembling – whether with the effort of restraint or the acknowledgement of her feelings, he wasn’t sure. But he could see anguish in her tense posture and hear strain in her voice; he didn’t need to ask any more questions about the effects of this drug. He could already see them quite clearly for himself.

“You’re afraid,” he stated, almost in surprise.

Lauren’s head shot up and she blanched under his watchful eyes. “I’ve been afraid ever since you put this chain around my neck,” she confessed quietly, her fingers reaching up to curl around the pendant that lay against her breastbone. “But this is different. I can feel it already, crawling around inside my head and making me… making me angry and… and not myself.”

Her lips twisted in antipathy. She had experienced anger before, of course, but it had always been fleeting and never really lasted. But she felt it now, deep in the very heart of her, gnawing away with ever-sharpened teeth and threatening her so much more than the Fae ever had.

“And the Succubus?” The Ash questioned. “Is she affected too?”

“No.” Lauren shook her head, recalling the flood of envy as she’d compared her own test results with Bo’s. “She healed herself by feeding from me. Whatever was left in her was transferred to me instead. I’m not very clear on the specifics of the exchange, but Bo is fine.”

“Then continue your work.” The Ash’s voice was almost relieved, sending a jolt of painful dismissal into Lauren’s head. She struggled for a moment, clenching her teeth in an effort to quell the resentment that sprang to her lips. Of course his priority would be Bo’s allegiance to the Light. Her own predicament was incidental – a nuisance, most likely.

She frowned, shrugging with the reluctant acceptance of her humanity and what it meant – or failed to mean – to The Ash. “With the research, or with getting Bo to join the Light?”

“With both.” Nodding, The Ash’s dismissal was implicit and Lauren rose from the chair, making her way across the study to the heavy wooden doors that Dyson had once broken open. She reached for the handle and turned it slowly, her grip tight with the tension that pinched at the back of her neck. It was only when she heard her name that she turned to see The Ash gazing at her with what looked like sadness.

“Use any resources you see fit,” he said gravely. “You are of value to me. To the Light, too. And time is – “

“Running out, I know.”

For a moment, she looked into his eyes and saw the ache of experience; the malady of loss. She felt it almost as keenly as her own malaise – the necessary detachment that The Ash had cultivated throughout the centuries as care had turned to grief. The bitterness that had spread like acid in her chest dissipated, leaving only a prescient sense of perdition. But she drew herself up, standing tall in its shadow and nodded slowly.

“It always was,” she told him. “From the beginning, it always was.”

***

“Holy crapballs!” Kenzi exclaimed, spinning around in the kitchen where she was heaping various and sundry items onto a huge slice of bread. She paused, a piece of salami hanging limp in her fingers and stared at Bo with wide, horrified eyes.

“Yeah,” Bo mumbled, feeling suddenly shameful under the penetrating gaze of her friend.

“Are you fucking serious?” Kenzi asked, dropping the salami in the general vicinity of her gigantic culinary creation and gaping at the Succubus.

“Uh… yeah,” Bo answered, hugging her arms around her body to seek small comfort.

“Shit.” Kenzi shook her head, the sandwich she’d been craving forgotten. Even though she didn’t really understand the way Bo and Lauren’s relationship worked, and even though she wasn’t completely sold on the idea of the doctor being an intimate part of her life with Bo, she felt a sudden pang of pity towards Lauren. It twisted her mouth into an expression of confused disdain while she struggled to fully comprehend what Bo had haltingly told her.

“Shit,” she said again, under her breath.

Bo nodded, tight-lipped, and looked as though she was going to cry.

“Okay,” Kenzi said, moving forwards and grabbing the Succubus by the arms, steering her through the house towards the sofa. “Come on, sit down.”

As they sank onto the couch, Bo retreated into a corner, crumpled into a little ball of pained anguish. It was evident on her face, drawing lines of distress around her eyes and the edges of her mouth. She had lingered anxiously in the lab, torn between wanting to comfort Lauren and the need to apologize to her. By the time the doctor’s test results had come in and been revealed, Lauren had sent Bo home with a stern expression that gave little away.

But Bo could sense the alarm creeping over Lauren’s body, the tension that inched across her shoulders and tugged at her mouth as the doctor had surveyed printouts that the Succubus didn’t understand. She could only discern that the energy she’d bestowed upon Lauren might just as well have been poison. That the aggression she’d displayed towards her lover that fateful night had been shared with the heat of their passion.

And she knew, beyond shadow of a doubt, that it was all her fault.

“Are you sure?” Kenzi’s voice pierced Bo’s thoughts and the Succubus blinked, turning to gaze at her friend with dark eyes of remorse. “I mean, is Lauren sure?” Kenzi cocked her head onto one side, trying to make sense of it all.

“She’s sure,” was all Bo said in reply.

“How the hell did it happen?”

Shame colored Bo’s cheeks and she looked away from her friend, unable to contemplate her reflection in those bright blue eyes without hating what she saw. Her head dropped down onto her chest and she was struck by flashing images of that night; fractured memories that taunted her with their stark hostility. It had felt so liberating at the time, as though Bo was opening the door to her inner self and allowing Lauren to peer inside. And, at the time, she’d thought that Lauren had indulged in it. Even liked it.

“It was my energy,” she said slowly, recalling Lauren’s throat pulsing with inhaled light, a faint glow emanating from the doctor’s open mouth. “I fed from a Fae who was… ” She searched for the right word and shrugged helplessly, finding none to fully explain the way this thing worked, how it insinuated itself into the very essence of Fae.

“He was on this… this thing,” she continued. “And I guess I passed it on to Lauren when we – “ She halted, clamping her lips together in light of the memories of skin and lips and fevered breaths that raged through her head.

“Oh.” Kenzi nodded and held up a hand. “I get it. I mean, I really don’t, but spare me the deets, ‘kay?”

There was no reprove in her tone, but she let out a tiny sigh as she surveyed the Succubus through a narrowed gaze. Ever since they’d entered the Fae world, Kenzi had worried about Bo’s increasing appetites – about the fact that she had them at all. It seemed that, for a creature who existed and thrived on sexuality, Bo was destined to be ruined by it.

“I’m sorry,” she said. Because she was. And because it seemed the only thing to say right now.

“She said it was dangerous, you know.”

Kenzi puffed out her cheeks and shrugged. “Tell me something about the freaky Fae that isn’t.”

Bo shook her head and glanced at her friend. “No, not that. Being with me.” She bit at her lower lip, trying to stem the tears that glistened in her eyes. But they welled up anyway and she extricated a hand from where it was clasped against her body, swiping at the corners of her eyes.

“I said I’d protect her from this shit,” she said, anger tracing through her tone. “Turns out I just needed to protect her from… from me.” She sucked in a ragged breath and clenched her teeth together. It was easy to give in to self-hatred. God knows she’d had enough practice over the years.

“Hey.” Kenzi scrambled across the couch and put her arms around Bo, feeling the Succubus’ body stiff and unrelenting against her own. “Bo, don’t. Please don’t. You didn’t know – you weren’t to know.”

“I should have known,” Bo said harshly as Kenzi moved away a little and gazed sadly at the Succubus. “The way I felt… the things I said to her… I should have known something was wrong.” Regret formed a lump in her throat and she felt tears again, prickling her eyes in recrimination. Hurting others was how she’d lived for so long that being part of the Fae world had given her hope. False hope, obviously. She’d let her guard down and steeped herself in her abilities. Lauren’s help and guidance had encouraged her to think that she might never hurt anyone else again, much less the one person whom she loved above all others.

But she’d been wrong. Lauren had been wrong. And now they were both suffering the consequences of that hubris. Lauren had told her that the prime directive for a Succubus was to survive – to do whatever was necessary to ensure that they did so. But if surviving meant hurting the ones that she loved, then Bo wasn’t sure she wanted to, in the end. Because living a long life alone was more of a death sentence than a short, violent existence in the heart of this world.

“So what happens now?”

Turning, Bo looked at her friend and shrugged, lips trembling as she considered the inevitable path that Lauren was surely to take.

“I don’t know,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I guess… ”

But it was too hard to even contemplate what might happen to Lauren, much less verbalize it. And even as Kenzi moved forwards to pull the Succubus into an embrace again, Bo felt hope slipping away from inside her to expose all the empty spaces that Lauren had filled.

Part 28

It was an unusual sensation, Lauren thought. She felt invaded; as though a hostile intruder was marching roughshod through her brain and leaving deep imprints behind like footprints in the snow. She could feel the drug’s onslaught in every movement, fingers trembling as she sought to ignore the temptations and ideas that it threw at her. The rationality that she’d always clung to was weakened in light of the impetus to cast it aside and give in to the primal rage that bubbled up in her chest, rankled in her throat and surged into her head.

From a scientific perspective she logged and detailed every moment, adding it to her vast amounts of research. She was even able to momentarily detach herself from the emotion long enough to appreciate the precise effect of the drug. And, at the back of her mind, she secretly wanted to congratulate whoever had created it. It was, she reasoned, something of a scientific marvel. The product of an intelligence that had been applied at such a dense cellular level that she half-imagined her body, her perspective, her very nature was changing along with her DNA.

But she found no comfort in her research. Not when her skin itched and she wanted to crawl out of it and allow change to take a freer rein. She had become furtive, hiding her face from those around her and second-guessing every thought and emotion that ran through her brain and chest. In fact, she had become so alien to those who worked for her that now the lab was mostly empty, save the watchful presence of Sagi. Apparently he was the only one who could bear to be around her.

It made her despise him all the more.

Even her growing distaste for his appearance every morning was overwhelmed by fear. Lauren had spent most of her life being afraid, one way or another. The avenues she’d traversed, though dangerous, were at least familiar. But this was an unknown. Something fetid and harmful, clutching at her breast with a terror that simply wouldn’t go away no matter how many facts and details she gathered.

She glanced at her watch and then across the lab to where Sagi was hunched over one of his experiments. He’d taken to testing samples of her blood and DNA with such intensity that Lauren suspected he actually enjoyed witnessing the decimation of her cells. Certainly, he had pronounced his results to her with an almost fevered pride and the worse they were, the more intently he watched her reactions.

Scowling, Lauren clenched her hands into fists and tried, yet again, to quell the anger that rose inside her with the deadly speed of a summer storm. She would not bend under its force. She would not succumb to the whirling seduction of it in her head. It was the drug. That was all. Just the drug.

But her assertions did little to assuage the creeping sense of desperation building in her chest.

“You’re distracted.”

Sagi’s voice carried across the lab and Lauren looked at him as he lifted his head and stared at her for a moment, his blue eyes as cold as the expression on his features.

“And you’re distracting me,” he added, sniffing imperiously.

Rising from her chair, Lauren took a deep breath and swallowed the words that sprang quickly into her head, taunting her lips with their vicious shapes. Hugging her arms around her chest, she shook her head.

“Distracting you from what?” she asked shortly. “Have you found a way to stop this thing yet?” She knew he hadn’t, and her impertinence clearly offended him as he blinked at her and the lines of his face sharpened.

“You know as well as I do, doctor, that these things take time.”

“I don’t have time!” she snapped, before catching herself and relenting, ducking her head apologetically. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly as Sagi straightened and bristled a little.

“Actually,” he commented in an aggrieved tone, “it appears that the degradation of your DNA is happening at a much slower rate than in the other victims. It might be due to the diluted nature of the narcotic, or it could be because you’re… ” He paused and his mouth turned down in distaste. “A human.”

At her questioning expression, he tilted his head onto one side and shrugged slightly. “This drug was never manufactured for humans,” he stated. “They do a perfectly adequate job of destroying themselves on their own.”

“Good for them,” Lauren muttered, squeezing her arms against her torso.

“Perhaps you should leave for a while,” Sagi suggested in a light tone, lifting his brows. “Do whatever it is you do when you’re not here.”

She didn’t like the salacious inference of his tone, nor did Lauren appreciate him giving her orders in her own lab. But he did have a point. Her interest in the work wasn’t waning, but her ability to concentrate was. And she found that her thoughts wandered more often than not to the things that occupied her time outside of the lab. Or people, she corrected herself disconsolately. She could feel the onset of thunder at the back of her mind, rumbling with ominous intent and blackening her line of vision. How long would it be before she could withstand it no more?

“I’m not supposed to leave you alone,” she said blankly.

Sagi let out a snort of laughter and shook his head. “My dear doctor,” he said with smug satisfaction, “there’s nothing in here that I don’t already know. Or need I remind you of that?” His mouth parted in a grin that made Lauren grind her back teeth together and resist the urge to fly at him. But he was right. He knew everything she did about the Fae – and had learned so by her own hand. Sagi wasn’t a threat to her work. To her sanity, possibly, but not to her work. Not anymore.

“Perhaps by the time you return I’ll have some of the composition of this narcotic identified,” he told her, waving his hand in dismissal as though she was a troublesome child.

She knew that she shouldn’t leave. That The Ash could appear at any time and demand to know her whereabouts. But she was restless, eager to escape the lab that had become almost like a prison to her. For all the time she’d spent here over the years and relished the sense of accomplishment it represented, the only thing she desperately wanted to do now was to leave it behind.

Giving Sagi a sharp nod, she slid her lab coat from her shoulders and draped it over her chair, turning on her heel and literally running for the doorway.

***

Kenzi’s language was somewhat on the colorful side as she was forced to pause her video game mid-flow. She cast an almost apologetic look at the zombie she was just about to decapitate and dragged herself from the sofa to slouch across the floor towards the door. She’d ignored the incessant banging for as long as she was able, and she cast a baleful look towards it as she reached for the handle.

Throwing it open with a flourish and a prepared tirade of insults, Kenzi stopped just short of letting them loose as she saw Lauren on the doorstep. The doctor looked unsettled, and although Kenzi knew that she should be taking pleasure in the sight, she just couldn’t bring herself to do so. Not when her sharp eyes took in the too-bright gleam in Lauren’s gaze, and the grey shadows around the tops of her cheeks.

“Bo’s not here,” she said, eyeing the doctor a little suspiciously.

“When will she be back?” Lauren sounded breathless, as though she had run here. She shifted from one foot to the other and shoved her hands into the pockets of her leather jacket.

“I… don’t know,” Kenzi said slowly. As Lauren let out a short-tempered sigh and pushed past her, she blinked and closed the door. “Why don’t you come in?” she threw at the figure marching across the floor of the house. “Oh,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I see you already have.”

By the time she’d followed Lauren into the living room, Kenzi was feeling a little resentful. She rarely spent time alone with the doctor if she could help it, and this impromptu visit had not only cut into her gaming hour, but also spoiled her plans for a snack and a cheesy romantic novel later in the afternoon. So it was a scowl that spread across her face as she drew near to Lauren, who had already begun pacing back and forth in front of the huge television screen attached to the wall.

“She’s following up some leads on Kendra,” Kenzi explained, anticipating the question that formed on the doctor’s face as she turned to look at the girl.

“I need to see her,” Lauren said, frowning.

“Yeah, I gathered that.” Kenzi flopped onto the couch and drew her legs up underneath her. “What’s the hurry? Did something happen?”

Letting out a bitter laugh, Lauren stopped pacing and fixed Kenzi with a glare. “Really, Kenzi? Did something happen?” She shook her head, unable to guess at whether the girl was mocking her or not. Either way, she felt a flood of anger fill her chest.

“I know you’re not stupid so don’t ask questions that are,” she said tersely.

“Uh… ” Kenzi was accustomed to hostility from Lauren, but not in such an open, harsh manner and momentarily floundered before shrugging it off. “Okay… Bo told me what happened.”

“I’m sure she did,” Lauren answered with a nod and a cold smile. “I bet Bo tells you everything, doesn’t she?”

“Well, she tends to leave out the sexytimes details, but yeah, she does.” Kenzi spoke before thinking and caught the hardening of Lauren’s gaze, the stiffening of the doctor’s stance. “And I don’t wanna know them!” she added, lifting a hand. “Not that I’m not happy for you two but… well, let’s just say I’m glad you’re keeping the mystery alive.”

She watched as Lauren stared at her, aware of the doctor’s eyes on her features. In fact, Lauren was gazing at her so intently that Kenzi shifted uncomfortably in her seat and offered a very bright, very fake smile towards the other woman. But Lauren ignored it, tugging her hands from her jacket and taking a couple of paces closer to where the girl sat on the couch.

“So you know what’s happening to me.” It wasn’t a question, but Kenzi inclined her head anyway.

“Yeah,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

“Are you?” Lauren took another few steps forwards, towering over the girl. “I sometimes wonder if you wouldn’t be glad to have me out of the way.”

Now Kenzi recoiled, eyes widening. Her jaw dropping, she shook her head in appalled offense and lifted a hand of rebuke. “Hey, I know you and I don’t exactly get along, but that’s not – “

“Because then there’d be no competition for Bo’s affections, would there?” Lauren’s chin jutted out in accusation and her eyes swept over the girl with dark shadows trailing in their depths. “You’d have her all to yourself.”

“What?” Kenzi’s head jerked back on her neck and she thrust out her legs, getting to her feet and staring at Lauren over the coffee table, mercifully placed between them like a life-saving no-man’s land.

“Seriously, Doc,” she breathed, “don’t even go there. It’s not like that at all. And I know you get that, right? You’re just… ” She waved her fingers around in the air and shook her head. “You’re all messed up on this thing. I totally understand.”

Lauren smiled and it failed to reach her eyes as they deepened in color to a rich mahogany. But it was cold; the shade of Fall, brittle with oncoming winter.

“I’m sure you do,” the doctor murmured. There was a hardness to her features almost changing their shape as Kenzi watched, fearful and skittish. Lauren’s face seemed almost pointed, sallow and pale, and an expression the girl couldn’t quite define worked its way over the doctor’s cheeks.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kenzi huffed, despite the disquiet prickling at the back of her neck.

Lauren folded her arms over her chest and leaned back on her heels, looking at the girl with disdain and open animosity.

“You’ve had a colorful life,” she stated. “Always meddling in things that aren’t your business. The times I’ve had to clean up after you – after both of you.” She tossed her head dismissively and let out a snort of laughter. “Don’t you know how meaningless the Fae community thinks you are? They think Bo owns you. That you’re her property.”

“Like I give a shit what they think,” Kenzi responded adroitly. “They’re Bo’s peeps, not mine.”

“Only because you don’t have any of your own to belong to,” Lauren darted back, and knew that she’d hit a nerve from the sharp intake of breath that the girl took. She smiled, oddly pleased with herself, feeling a rush of victory run through her veins. It was a hollow sort of victory, she reasoned, but a win nonetheless. And wasn’t that the whole point of this? To emerge triumphant and make the girl cower?

At the back of her mind, she was troubled by the sensation. There was a part of her that insisted on defiance; on fighting these temptations to the bitter end. But bitterness had been kept at bay far too long in her life and now that she succumbed to it, she understood how it had the potential to consume her entirely.

“I never really understood what brought you and Bo together,” she mused, as Kenzi frowned, hurt painting shades of pink across her cheeks. “Why she’d take in a stray like you and never try to make you go home. I mean,” Lauren lifted a hand to her chin in abject consideration, “you’re just a little girl. Not nearly old enough or strong enough to survive in Bo’s world. Don’t you ever feel guilty, having to rely on her to protect you all the time?”

She knew it was cruel. Unnecessary. But it felt so good to say the words she’d resisted for so long; to open up the floodgates and let all the jealousy and resentment flood out with abandon. And even if her conscience made an effort to prick her into sense, she ignored its pleas and instead smiled as Kenzi’s resolve visibly wavered.

“Dude,” Kenzi said slowly. “When you bitch someone out, you really bitch someone out. Impressive.” She folded her arms over her chest and met Lauren’s gaze with a fortitude that she didn’t know she possessed. But from what she’d heard about this drug, it manifested itself in cruelty and decimation – not only of the physical kind, but also the mental. And the latter, Kenzi knew, could be far more harmful than the former. Especially in the hands of someone as smart as Lauren.

Lauren merely shrugged and lifted her eyes heavenward for a moment in dismissal. “Of course,” she nodded, her gaze returning to Kenzi once more. “Humor as a defense mechanism. You know you’re not fooling anyone with that, don’t you? You know that inside, you hurt as much as everyone else does.”

Oh, that barb sunk particularly deep. A surge of pride burgeoned in her chest at the same moment that she felt regret at her words. Because even in the same moment that Kenzi’s shoulders rose in rebuke, the girl’s eyes flickered with a pang of delicious pain that Lauren noted and filed away for further use.

“I think you’d better leave,” Kenzi said shortly with a firm nod of her head. “This is going to get real ugly real fast if you don’t.” Clasped against her torso, her hands bunched into fists and she tried not to give vent to all the things she’d never said; all the things that she’d tempered with her devotion to Bo and respect for the Succubus’ choices. This wasn’t the Lauren she’d come to know – not even close. Distrust had always overshadowed Kenzi’s relationships. She was the queen of the con, of the wayward nature that she saw no reason to dilute. But her faith in Lauren, however tentative, was guided by Bo’s deep trust of the doctor. And this wasn’t the woman Bo put her faith in. This was the drug. Kenzi both understood and appreciated that.

It didn’t, however, mean that she wasn’t hurt by it.

“Hm,” Lauren smiled again, a cold expression that did nothing to lighten the growing darkness in her gaze. “Well, you be sure to tell Bo that I dropped by.”

“You bet your ass I will,” Kenzi growled, and watched as Lauren opened her mouth to laugh and then stopped short, catching herself.

A sudden distress clutched at the doctor, slumping her shoulders and making her eyes widen in acknowledgement of all she’d said, all she’d intimated. The darkness in her gaze fled in light of the panic that replaced it and for a moment, Lauren merely stared at Kenzi, horrified by her own comprehension.

Blinking, Lauren’s gaze darted around the room as though she was seeing it for the first time. As it returned to alight on the girl opposite her, shame flooded the doctor’s cheeks and she stumbled forwards a step.

“Kenzi,” she said, her voice thickened and anguished. “Kenzi… I – “

“Doc?” Kenzi frowned as Lauren sagged, hands clutching at her stomach as though injured. The girl darted forwards as the doctor bent forwards, concerned that the woman was going to faint and fall to the ground. But Lauren held out a hand, palm up in the air and stayed the girl’s progress with a shake of her head.

“I’m… I’m okay. Don’t,” Lauren muttered, keeping Kenzi at bay and swallowing over the wave of nausea that rose in her throat. She staggered backwards a couple of steps and half-leaned, half-fell against the long table that was behind her. Gripping the edge of it with whitened fingers, she took a few long, deep breaths and steadied herself. The storm of pleasure she’d taken in taunting the girl hung offshore, dark clouds gathering ominously as she tried to focus. And as Kenzi ignored her entreaties and moved forwards, Lauren found that she accepted the hands that the girl placed on her arms and even sank into them gratefully.

“I can’t control it,” she groaned as another wave of nausea spread from her stomach to her throat. She almost gagged over it and leaned against the solidity of the table, head hanging forwards. “It’s too much,” she moaned.

“I know,” Kenzi said almost soothingly. “I know, Doc. Gotta ride out those highs and deal with the lows. I know.”

Looking up into piercing blue eyes, Lauren frowned. “Those things I said… ”

“Hey,” Kenzi said with a quirk of her mouth, “everyone talks shit on drugs. Trust me on this.” She winced slightly as Lauren’s hand curled around her forearm with a vice like grip but didn’t pull away. Bo always told her that the greater part of valor was staying the course even when it seemed futile. And right now, futility seemed like the last bastion of defense for the doctor, trembling and sucking in huge lungfuls of air as Kenzi tried to comfort her, however alien the impetus to do so felt.

“You have to tell Bo,” Lauren said in a voice grated with the struggle to form words. “You have to tell her that this isn’t me. I don’t know what’s happening to me. I can’t… can’t make sense of this.”

“She’s gonna help you,” Kenzi said firmly, barely able to comprehend the shadows flitting over Lauren’s face, the pain etching lines over the smooth features and roiling trouble across the calm she’d come to anticipate from the doctor. “She’s gonna figure this stuff out, right?”

Lauren smiled bitterly and lifted her head, raising herself up and leaning back against the table, finally letting go of Kenzi’s arm. It was the humanity she was losing in herself that she saw in the girl’s eyes; the essence of what made them compassionate and able to care for others. The very thing she’d always held dear and was now feeling slip away from her as the effects of the drug destroyed the only thing she’d ever truly known about herself.

“Kenzi,” Lauren said, forcing the words out as though the very effort of doing so pained her. “Time is running out and I’m… I’m scared.” She looked away from the girl, her gaze racing away around the room again as though she could deny her admission and assuage the guilt and shame flooding her cheeks with pinked acknowledgement.

“Sure you are,” Kenzi said brightly, although her eyes had assumed a graver hue. “That’s how we humans live in the Fae world, right? Terrified out of our tiny fucking minds?”

The doctor’s faint laugh appeased the girl and she reached out again, grasping Lauren’s shoulder and meeting the doctor’s gaze as it glanced towards her.

“Tell her,” Lauren forced out. “Please tell her. Tell Bo that this isn’t – “

Kenzi quieted the doctor with a squeeze of her hand and nodded, her expression serious and compassionate all at once.

“She knows, Doc,” she said softly. “She already knows.”

Part 29

Bo picked over the dismal remnants of Kendra’s home, kicking absently at an empty food container. She shivered in repulsion as a cockroach scuttled out from inside it and scrambled backwards a couple of steps with a hissed expletive.

She’d come here several times since Kendra’s disappearance. Each time, she hoped that she might spot something she’d missed, that there might be some sort of clue as to Kendra’s whereabouts or the inception of the drug. But this time, like every other time before it, had yielded only a weary sense of emptiness. Wherever Kendra was, and whoever had taken her and reduced this place to what resembled a garbage dump had left nothing for Bo to find.

It was with an overwhelming feeling of defeat that Bo wrapped her arms around her torso, clutching at herself and letting out a long sigh. If she could find something… anything that might lead her out of this mire then she might be able to muster up some hope of helping Lauren. The Succubus’ natural curiosity and imperative to help had become a crushing burden in light of Lauren’s condition. It bowed her shoulders and pinched at the muscles in her back. Because if she lost Lauren, then her purpose would be diminished; her life reduced to monochrome once more; shades of black replacing the glorious Technicolor that life with the doctor represented.

Turning in a slow circle, her eyes lighted on the paltry possessions that Kendra had collected: a tiny statue of a ballerina perched on the mantel of a fire that never burned, a tatty, threadbare blanket that was thrown carelessly across the ugly sofa, a framed picture that was skewed and lopsided on the wall by the door.

Bo’s lips twisted in regret and distaste. Kendra had willingly disassociated herself from the Fae – from a community that should have cared for and nurtured her. The Succubus could identify with the feeling of being an outsider – of wanting to be something other than the name and label that the Fae forced upon members of their community. But it had to amount to more than this, surely? It had to mean more than scraping a living through nefarious means and throwing oneself into the jaws of isolation and danger. It just had to, because if it didn’t, then what future might Bo have should she continue her life of separatism?

Shaking her head, Bo recalled her initiation into the Fae world, how she’d chosen humans and, possibly, sealed her fate. But she couldn’t belong to a world that drove its people to this; she glanced around the room again and sighed. It was a world that sought to destroy her, should she doggedly refuse to bend to its strictures.

Bo threw back her shoulders, straightening up with a surge of determination that surprised her. If Lauren was taken by this, then her path would be simple. If this world destroyed her heart, then she would tear that world and all its leaders down, bit by bit.

She heard the aching groan of the outer door from down the corridor leading to the alleyway and turned towards the sound. Instinctively, her hands bunched into fists as shadows loomed along the corridor before figures did; her stance tensed in anticipation, a tingle running up and down her spine.

The Morrigan entered the room, flanked by two large Fae who glowered at Bo as soon as they saw her, one of them growling softly under his breath. Coming to a halt in the center of the room, The Morrigan’s face twisted into distaste and she blinked lazily, finally turning her gaze on to Bo.

“I won’t pretend to be surprised to find you here,” she remarked casually with a wave of her hand.

“Well I’m surprised to see you here,” Bo retorted. “Slumming it, are you?”

The Morrigan’s lips curved in a beatific smile that failed to reach her eyes; they stared coldly at Bo for a long moment before the leader of the Dark Fae blinked and let out a tiny laugh. It trickled musically from her scarlet lips and she turned again, looking around the room.

“I heard,” she said conspiratorially, “that this place was a drugs den.” Her lip curled disdainfully and she sighed. “What a dreadful way to exist.”

“Kendra did it because she felt she had no other option,” Bo said defensively. She glanced at the two Dark Fae behind The Morrigan and wondered briefly at their loyalties. At the vacant expressions on their face that never questioned the Dark or their place in it. So many times she’d been told that her own understanding of the Fae would be different if she’d been raised in their community. But in light of what she’d witnessed, Bo had to consider herself somewhat lucky to have avoided the social conditioning that the Fae necessarily underwent.

Because all this dismal place proved was that the will to escape that conditioning was met with undue force. Perhaps, she chewed at her lower lip, even death.

The Morrigan circled Bo, her gaze alighting on the filthy room and the objects in it. “There’s always another option, dear,” she murmured, before coming to a halt by Bo’s side and allowing her dark eyes to slide appreciatively up and down the tense body of the Succubus. “If you’d join the Dark, I could show you just how many different options you might have.”

“Not gonna happen,” Bo sneered, glowering at The Morrigan.

But the leader of the Dark merely blinked and smiled graciously, even going so far as to let out an amused breath of laughter. “We’ll see,” she inclined her head. “Who can tell what choices you might make should your ties to the Light be… ”

She paused just long enough to meet Bo’s gaze head on so that her implication was clear. “Well,” she said finally, “severed.”

Bo’s eyes tracked The Morrigan as she began to move again, circling the Succubus once more with a predatory, serpentine grace and a sway of her hips.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” The Succubus’ voice was low, filled with wary tension as she found herself unable to take her eyes off the Dark Fae. She shook her head, just once, feeling as though some sort of spell was being cast around her in slow, deliberate steps of complacent power.

The Morrigan laughed and glanced back at her two henchmen, rolling her eyes as though Bo was a ridiculously stupid child who was simply failing to comprehend the picture laid out before her in glaring detail. But as her gaze returned to Bo, there was an encroaching darkness in the depths of her eyes as she looked the Succubus up and down again. Finally, she shrugged off Bo’s glowering expression and drew closer.

“Without wanting to be indelicate,” she began, her voice a sudden hush at Bo’s ear, “there’s not much about your dalliance with the human doctor that I don’t know.” The Morrigan’s voice took on a thickened tone, so seductive and rich that Bo couldn’t help responding to it, despite herself. She swallowed as The Morrigan touched her fingertips to Bo’s shoulder for a fleeting moment.

“Let’s face it, honey,” she murmured in a throaty growl. “Poor Dr Lewis is in way, way over her head this time. From what I hear, she’s on a fast track to an early grave.” As Bo’s eyes widened, The Morrigan smiled graciously. It was, after all, in her nature to seek out weaknesses in those she ruled and to exploit them for all they were worth. It was how she ruled. How she’d retained that rule for as long as she had.

“Seems to me that The Ash failed in his duty to protect your lover.” The Morrigan held the word for a moment on her tongue, rolling it around with an unseemly amount of relish and satisfaction.

Bo flinched slightly. Hearing The Morrigan talk about Lauren’s condition with such glee made her want to fight, to resist the urges that were pulsing at her throat. Urges that sickened her and excited her. That were as much a part of her as the knowledge that she should resist them.

Glaring at The Morrigan with barely disguised resentment, Bo’s jaw hardened and she lifted her chin resolutely. But the leader of the Dark Fae merely smiled, scarlet lips curved in salacious invitation. Bo could understand how The Morrigan was able to seduce people with her promises, her power, the delectable curves that she accentuated with expensive attire. And, for a second, her instincts wavered towards that seduction; Bo felt the blood in her veins beat a strange tattoo of disgust and want.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she snarled, swallowing over the lump of painful anger in the throat.

“Don’t I?” The Morrigan quirked an exquisitely shaped eyebrow and smiled again. “You know that humans are expendable, don’t you? That, for all The Ash likes to say about Dr Lewis, she’s not part of our community. Don’t you think he might be trying a little harder to save her?”

“She’s more committed to the Fae community than anyone I know,” Bo cried, her rising tone bringing an alertness to the movements of the two large Fae across the room. “At least she cares!”

“Oh,” The Morrigan waved her hand in the air and the two lumbering Fae halted, confused, then drew back. “I care, dear. More than you can possibly imagine.”

The smile that had passed over her lips faded and she simply stared at the Succubus, examining and assessing her with eyes of pitch and features of stone.

“Places like this,” she flung out a gloved hand and her lip curled in distaste, “and the people in them only serve to fragment our community. Fae weren’t meant to live like humans. It’s why we don’t,” she nodded firmly. “This whole thing is tawdry and not at all part of the legacy we leave for our children. Humans are for eating or shucking. Once you understand that, you’ll think twice about wanting to save your little doctor friend.”

Bo felt nausea rise in her gut, burning in her throat before it was replaced by rage - by all the things that she deplored about the Fae world. She’d chosen humans before because they were all she’d ever known. They were familiar and offered her a world in which she felt confident, even safe. Her choice to align herself with them had come from a place of fear. But her choice to stay aligned with them… well, that came from a place of love. Love that she felt so strongly now she was sure it shone from every part of her, like the light that typified her strength and Fae self.

She knew that The Morrigan saw it, recognized it, despised it. For a Fae to put human life above that of their own species was anathema to her sensibilities. And it was written across the impossibly beautiful features that gazed at Bo with judgment in blackened eyes.

“If I find out that you’re responsible for this,” Bo said quietly as The Morrigan blinked curiously at her. “If I find out that you’ve got anything to do with Kendra’s disappearance or the drug, then… ” Her voice trailed away as she squared her shoulders, meeting The Morrigan’s gaze head on.

“Then what?” The Morrigan deigned to laugh, a trickle of delight escaping her lips as she stood her ground. “Sweetie, you do know that among the Fae community, you’re a joke, don’t you? That your bark, such as it were, is pretty much all you’ve got. No bite, you see.” She even went so far as to bare her teeth and snap them together with relish.

“Even if you did find anything out, what on earth do you think you’re going to do about it that would possibly come close to a threat?” The Morrigan’s raised eyebrows lifted the features underneath it and she shrugged dismissively, tilting her head onto one side.

Bo clenched her hands into fists so hard that she felt her short fingernails digging into her palms.

“If I find out that you’re involved with this, in any way,” she said, her words deliberate and venomous. “Then I will end you.”

For a moment, The Morrigan stared at Bo. A moment in which the Succubus wasn’t sure if she was going to leave the room alive. Because, for a moment, she saw in The Morrigan’s gaze all that commanded the Dark Fae; all that encapsulated the iron hand with which she steered her people. It was terrifying; beautiful. And Bo couldn’t resist the cold chill of fear that grasped at her chest with icy fingers.

Then, The Morrigan smiled to herself and gave a tiny ‘hum’ of acknowledgement. Nodding, she fixed Bo with a kinder gaze, even going so far as to reach out and slide her fingers down the arm of the Succubus’ leather jacket.

“There you are,” she said finally in a proud tone. “I knew the dark was hiding in you somewhere. Doesn’t it feel good to let it out a little?”

Bo’s mouth opened to refute The Morrigan’s claims. Darkness was something she hid, not displayed. Something she had always run from, not towards. But in the second she found her voice, the leader of the Dark shrugged and spun around on her spiked heels.

“Whenever you’re ready to join us and let us help you with that,” she commented in an airy voice, “we’ll be waiting. Don’t let your little involvement with the humans and with this… ” Her hand swept around the room once more and she sighed, but whether with regret or dismissal, Bo couldn’t tell.

“This incident,” The Morrigan turned to face Bo once again, firmly ensconced between her two henchmen, “distract you from who you are, sweetie. Who you could be, given the right sort of encouragement. Having a conscience really doesn’t suit you, you know. You’re a Succubus. Start acting like one.”

Pulling at the fur-lined edges of her coat, The Morrigan sniffed and smiled sweetly at Bo as she moved towards the door leading out into the alleyway.

“I will have you,” she said slowly, her eyes raking up and down Bo’s body with deliberate intent. “I’m not known for my patience, but I’ll make an exception for you, dear. Do what you have to with your humans. But you’ll join us sooner or later.”

Letting out a laugh that was maliciously delighted, The Morrigan wiggled her fingers in an overly friendly farewell and left the room.

***

Dyson strode into the lab, already bristling in anticipation of finding Sagi there. He could rationalize the Dark Fae’s presence among the Light enough to tolerate it, but it didn’t mean he had to like it. In fact, he thought, his eyes sweeping around the quiet lab, he hated that they’d had to turn to the Dark for answers. He’d made his choice a long time ago and had adhered to Light laws even when – and especially when – he didn’t want to. Well, mostly, anyway. But it was the oath he’d sworn, the fealty he lived under. He may have clashed with the Light and gone against The Ash, but when lines were drawn and brotherhoods chosen, Dyson knew on which side of that line he resolutely stood. Even if it was to his own detriment, his loyalties were now deeply ingrained in the life he’d carved out for himself here.

As he moved towards the desk at the back of the lab, he only saw one figure leaning over it. His eyes narrowed slightly; he watched Lauren’s hands tremble as she lifted a slide to the microscope in front of her. She cursed under her breath and sucked in air as he drew near, finally throwing the slide down and standing back, folding her arms over her chest.

“No Sagi?” he asked, as she turned and fixed a grimly set gaze upon him.

“I sent him away to another lab,” she said, pushing at her hair. “I just… I couldn’t bear him being around me anymore. Looking at me like I’m some kind of lab rat,” she added distractedly.

Dyson frowned. He’d never seen the Doc looking so undone. There was a haunted expression to her face that glistened in her huge brown eyes and drew lines at their corners. Dark shadows underneath them painted shadows across her cheeks and she looked gaunt, distressed. He watched silently as she turned to glance down at her desk, cheeks puffed out in contemplation before she let out a sigh and shoved her hands into the pockets of her lab coat.

“So,” she said, turning to him with a taut smile on her lips. “What can I do for you?”

Leaning back a little, Dyson folded his arms over his chest and gazed down at her, noticing for the first time how small she seemed. She’d always maintained such a stoic exterior, even among the craziness of their world. But now the cracks were beginning to show; fissures that split her sense of self right down the middle. He could see it. He could smell it; her scent was agitated, tinged with the coppery scent of fear that he usually found so evocative and addictive.

But on Lauren, he found it unsettling. And sympathy, normally a distant emotion in his relationship with her, began to burgeon in his chest.

“Actually,” he began, “I was wondering if there was anything I could do for you.”

Blinking rapidly, Lauren suppressed the urge to sigh irritably and dismiss him, just like she’d dismissed all of her staff, and Sagi, too. It was just the drug, she told herself, as she had done a hundred times that day already. Patience was something she had developed, an acquired skill that was as much a part of her life’s work as was her medical expertise. It was one of the things on which she could rely when all else seemed to fail. One of the things that The Ash counted on, too.

But patience was a fairweather friend and had been woefully absent in the last few days. She could feel her emotional responses changing, shifting like heavy sands, smothering her heart and molding it into a newer, more primal shape. Dyson had always possessed the ability to cut her down, to dismiss her and demean her in ways that she had ignored, for the most part. Their rivalry had become a chasm that yawned between them and Lauren had discovered that she rather liked it that way. Distance was, after all, another form of protection, wasn’t it?

To have Dyson look at her with kindness in his gray eyes, and hear sympathy in the rumbling tone of his voice pulled her towards the edge of that chasm.

She didn’t want to look over the edge and see what lay in its depths.

“Do for me?” she repeated, somewhat incredulously. “Tell me, Dyson, what do you think you can possibly do for me? Have you acquired some qualification in biochemistry that you’ve kept secret until now?”

His nostrils flared but he maintained his stance. Lauren nodded to herself. If she knew anything about the detective, it was that his stubborn nature was as immovable as the mountains. And as perilous. He wasn’t going to give in to insults, however veiled or blatant they might be.

Not that it would make a difference, she thought with a pang of dread. Because, sooner or later, this drug would extinguish everything about her that might offer solace and calm. All the pieces of humanity that she held so dear and that allowed her to show sympathy were fragmented, falling from her in painful shards. Sooner or later, there would be nothing left.

Sooner or later, she would die.

A part of her whispered encouragement into her brain, firing neurons that flashed sparks at the back of her eyes. She had been desperately trying all day to ignore them, opting for self-imposed isolation as a means to prevent the drug’s effects from taking hold again. She just couldn’t be around anyone. Lauren wished she didn’t have to be around herself.

And now Dyson was here, offering the very thing that she wanted the least. From anyone, everyone. And most of all, him.

Try harder, her brain echoed. Hurt him. Tear him apart. Ruin him.

“Kenzi called me,” Dyson said slowly, rousing Lauren from the disturbing thoughts running rampant through her head. “She was worried about – “

“Worried?” Lauren scoffed, with a bitter laugh. “Really? I take it you do know the girl, Dyson. The only things Kenzi’s worried about are where her next meal is coming from and how soon she can have Bo all to herself.”

She eyed him with a narrowed gaze and a slow, cold smile pulled at the corner of her mouth. “I’m sure you can relate to the latter, if not the former.”

Dyson stared at her for a moment, the expression on his face working between insult and annoyance. He pulled a hand from where it was clasped against his chest and lifted it to his face, slowly wiping it over his beard.

“Look, Doc,” he intoned. “I know what it’s like to feel out of control. To have something inside you that feels like it’s going to take over you completely. I just figured I might be able to help you with that.”

Turning away from him, Lauren let out a blurt of laughter, brittle with discontent.

“Well that’s ironic,” she said with assumed amusement. “When it comes to self control, I’m not sure you’re the first person I think of.”

She spun around to face him, stepping far closer than was advisory; closer than was necessary. Dyson almost reeled in the scent coming off her in waves, thick with something he couldn’t quite define. Something that hinted at danger and lifted his senses like hackles, alerted to an attack.

“I mean,” she said in a lower, more intimate tone, “what is it with you Fae? You’re born with these incredible, amazing powers and all you do is lay yourself bare to them. If it wasn’t for people like me, you’d all be running around like animals.” Her lip curled in scorn and she looked up at him, cocking her head onto one side.

“I’m not afraid of what’s happening to me,” she said, although her voice trembled and Dyson could tell instantly that she was lying. “Now I just feel more like one of you. Having something inside me that I can’t control, feeling it rip through me and almost take over me completely… you know what I’m talking about, don’t you, Dyson. Hm?”

It wasn’t until she took another step closer that Dyson sensed something else underneath the layers of hostile doubt and damning fear. And he hesitated for a moment, caught in the expression that flickered through her eyes with russet shades of darkness. Lauren had always exercised such cautionary restraint, but here there was none. Here there was only an empty absence of anything that might save her. That might save him.

“Doc.” He lifted his hands and put them around her upper arms, fingers closing firmly over her lab coat. He felt her stiffen under his touch, back straightening, her proximity kept at bay, for now. “This isn’t you.”

“Isn’t it?” Lauren asked, glancing at his hands on her arms before lifting her head to stare into his eyes. “Well,” she had the audacity to shrug dismissively, half-smiling as she saw anger flare in his gaze, “maybe it’s you, then.”

Now he let go of her, shifting backwards, his booted feet shuffling loudly in the relative quiet of the lab. She was smiling at him. He knew Lauren well enough to have seen many of her smiles; how she used them to shield herself from vulnerability, from openness, from hurt. She wore them when she didn’t want to. It was her way of retreating. Of hiding how she felt.

But this was different.

The smile on Lauren’s mouth was predatory, curving upwards in such feral intent that he almost didn’t recognize her. Blinking, he shook his head and shoved his hands into his pockets as he struggled to figure out her intentions. Her quiet demeanor was shattered; her features sharp, eyes dull.

Gotta be the drug, he told himself, finding some solace in the words, if not in the thought itself. And the sooner they found an antidote for it, the better. Because there was a cruelty shining in Lauren’s gaze that he didn’t much care for. He might not like the doctor; he might even still harbor resentment for the fact that she’d gained Bo’s love and he hadn’t. But, all things considered, he found that he’d come to rely on who she was in this world; who she’d sought to be, despite the ingrained prejudice that diminished her.

He saw nothing of that person in the woman opposite him.

“It’s… touching that you want to help me,” Lauren murmured, her voice trickling softly into Dyson’s ears. “I know how you like to play the hero, Dyson. I just never thought you’d want to be mine.” Her tone was playful and he frowned at her, wondering where this was going. Fearing where it might.

“So I have to wonder what your motives are,” she shrugged, eyebrows rising. “You can’t be doing this for Bo, because without me she might even contemplate falling into those waiting arms of yours.”

He bristled, despite the silken tone of her voice and the preternatural response of his human form.

“This isn’t about Bo, and you know that,” he said gruffly. “Don’t make this about her, Lauren.”

As he said her name, the doctor let out a hum of amusement and reached out, pointing a forefinger at his chest and pushing against his leather vest.

“You and I never have seen eye to eye, have we, Dyson?” she mused. “Sometimes I can’t help wondering why. Why we just can’t get along. Because if this isn’t about Bo, then what is it about?”

“I want to do what’s right,” he responded abruptly. “You’re a good doctor… important to the Light. We all show our fealty in different ways, Lauren. You know that.”

“Fealty,” Lauren said the world slowly as though it was a foreign concept and peered up at the cop through heavy-lidded eyes. “Yes, you’re very loyal, aren’t you?”

Her inference was clear; her tone disparaging. Dyson frowned at her, brows drawing together in an odd mixture of confusion and irritation. Just the drug, he reminded himself. The research had shown that it changed DNA; mutated it into something… something other. And that otherness was a strange hue in Lauren’s gaze, drawing her face into sharp, unfamiliar lines.

“Yeah,” he shrugged, assumed nonchalance drawing an unsatisfied sigh from Lauren’s lips. “Sure, Doc. Whatever you say.”

The finger against his leather vest became a hand, palm flattened on his chest, Lauren’s long fingers splaying out. She tilted her head to one side, looking up at him, her scent suddenly almost overpowering. Dyson swallowed and let out a long breath, the quickening of his heart and the prickling at the back of his neck betraying his better judgment. But instinct was a powerful master, and one he’d learned must be obeyed, whether in his human or animal form.

“Really, Dyson?” Lauren moved in closer now, her eyes following the planes of his face, lingering over his jaw, his mouth, with such intensity that he almost flinched from their caress. “Whatever I say?” She laughed, an unpleasantly seductive sound, and her hand traveled up his chest until fingers snaked around his neck.

“I wonder just how good you are at following orders,” she whispered, leaning in towards him.

Dyson’s hand shot up and grasped Lauren’s wrist, staying any further progress and tearing her grip from where it had slid over his skin. His neck burned from the touch; his body taunting him with thoughts that disgusted and teased him. Their eyes met, holding each other’s gaze for a few, long, tense seconds. Seconds in which he understood all the things that might happen, that could happen. That had never happened.

And never would, he thought grimly, his jaw hardening.

“Don’t.” His voice was hoarse.

Lauren smiled at him, the curve of her lips enticingly demure, complacently wanton. She glanced at his hand around her wrist and lifted her eyebrows in amused acknowledgement of the tension in his touch.

“You don’t want this,” Dyson said, even though he could feel her proximity like fire in his blood, against his will and against all the complicated emotions he felt for the woman. He had no desire for Lauren; his heart and passion belonged to Bo. Rationally, his human self both understood and adhered to that. But there was a primal nature to the doctor; an unrestrained, burning sexuality that roused him nonetheless. And it was his own inherent nature that had answered it.

She surveyed him with eyes that were hooded, shadowed. For a split second, he thought he espied something in there; something that was battling the darkness within her gaze. Some semblance of the woman he knew, not the woman who was pressed up against him, scent curling around him and assaulting his senses.

And then she laughed, a low, throaty sound that blazed anger into his chest and drew a growl from his lips, teeth bared and sharpening to points. But there was no fear in Lauren’s eyes and no hesitation in her answer.

“You’re right,” she said carelessly. “I really don’t. But you do, don’t you, Dyson?” Again her eyebrows rose and she pulled her hand from his grasp, briefly turning away from him and glancing down at her desk, toying with the slide she had previously thrown down in frustration.

“In fact,” she mused, “it’s probably the closest you’ll get to Bo. Which is small comfort, I know. But… ” She turned back to him and he saw it then; he felt it in every word that formed on her lips and fell from her tongue. Darkness. Black abandon that swallowed every last shred of her humanity. And as she pressed herself up against him once more, Dyson shrank from it, just as he had done all his adult life.

“Small comfort is better than none, isn’t it?” she hummed, her voice as disingenuous as the smile on her mouth.

Dyson snarled, head jerking back on his neck. Rage and pride swirled together in his head, formidable bedfellows that made him snatch at her, his hand sweeping up in arc from beside his body to grip at her neck. Undeterred, Lauren’s eyes flashed and she actually seemed to enjoy the pressure on her windpipe, letting out a strangled, hissing breath of laughter.

He wanted to end this. To save her while she still bore some vestiges of the woman she’d been. Because surely a quick and savage end was better than the slow decimation of her character, of the good that was inside her and the light that she clung to in all of her work. He could end this now, and suffer the consequences.

Or he could let go of Lauren and let her suffer an immeasurable torture.

“Do it,” she hissed at him as his fingers faltered around her neck. “Just do it, Dyson. It’s who you are, isn’t it?”

Dyson wasn’t a Fae who took challenges lightly. In fact, he wasn’t a Fae who took anything lightly. And there was nothing he wanted more at this minute than to tear at Lauren’s throat and give her an escape route, relief, silence. Peace.

She drew in a strangled breath and he stared down at her; at the widening of her eyes and the sentient comprehension that was entering them like sunrise after blackest night. She blinked, just once, and then he knew. She was still in there; still struggling and fighting against this thing to regain her own self. To assert the woman she had been over the quickening night that was suffocating her.

No; he shook his head and released his grip. This wasn’t how it was going to end for Lauren. Even though he could, even though he wanted to, the urge to preserve life was, for Dyson, paramount.

As his fingers slid away from her throat, he hated himself just a little bit more.

Staggering backwards a few paces, Lauren’s hands passed over her throat and up to her face, fingertips pressing against her temples. Closing her eyes wearily, she felt the headache she’d been holding at bay return with a vengeance, pounding behind her eyes. And with it, a numbness that seemed to sap the very strength from her, rendering her almost unable to stand.

When she lurched forwards, it was Dyson’s arms that prevented her from falling to the floor. Lauren planted her palms on his chest and resisted his embrace, but even as she did so, her knees weakened once more and she slumped against him.

“It’s okay,” he rumbled against her ear. “I gotcha.”

Lauren flushed, her ears burning red. Averting her eyes from his concerned gray gaze, she felt her heart beating unreasonably fast, speeding dreamlike memories into her crazed brain, tumbling them around so that none of this seemed to make any sense at all.

“Dyson… ” she began, her voice cracking as she began to return to this reality. A reality in which she was floundering to maintain the merest semblance of control.

“Yeah,” he grunted. “Forget it. You’re not – “

“Myself. Yes. Something I’m well aware of, thank you Dyson.” Lauren shoved herself off him and took a step back, smoothing down the lines of her lab coat and plucking at the lapel. Carefully avoiding eye contact, she shook her head in an attempt to create a presence of normality. But her hands were shaking and she pushed them into the pockets of her coat, sucking in deep breaths to calm herself.

When she finally spoke, it was with some relief that the trembling had stopped. For now.

“I need to get back to work.” She was brisk, businesslike.

Dyson rubbed a hand over his eyes and let out a weary sigh.

“Lauren, you need to rest.”

“I’m on borrowed time, Dyson. I don’t get to rest!” The strain in her voice heightened its pitch and the detective blanched. For all her efforts, even remaining civil was almost beyond reach and panic tugged at Lauren’s features, paling them.

Dyson reached out again, grasping Lauren’s arm just above the elbow and turning her to face him. This time, she looked into his eyes and he saw terror in her gaze – her own mortality reaching up to drag her into fear and doubt.

And there was nothing she could do about it. Nothing he could do, either.

“Do you have to be such a hardass all the time?” he mused quietly.

Lauren almost smiled. “Do you have to be so persistent all the time?”

“I’m a cop,” he replied. “It’s my job.”

“Hm.” Lauren looked down at his hand on her arm. Incongruous as it was, she gained some strange comfort from it. That alone was enough to encourage her to pull it from his grip.

“I have to find the answers to this, Dyson,” she told him. “That’s my job.”

She sank into her chair and turned back to the microscope. For a moment, the detective merely stood watching her as she reached for the glass slide on the desk once more. Then she glanced over her shoulder and frowned at him, two lines of worry forming between her eyes.

“You’ll… you can help me, actually,” she said quietly, her face working around a fate that was rushing towards her at breakneck pace however fast she tried to run from it. Taking a breath, she sighed it out under Dyson’s patient, watchful eyes.

“Promise me you’ll take care of Bo,” she said. “If… if this thing… if I… ” Her tone was grave and she paled visibly at the mere verbalization of it. “Just take care of her,” she repeated, turning back to the microscope.

She leaned forwards so that Dyson couldn’t see her face; couldn’t see the tears forming in the corners of her eyes or the trembling of her lip. He’d already seen her exposed and vulnerable and any more would surely ruin her more than this drug was doing. Especially when it came to Bo; her heart clenched. Losing herself was easy to rationalize away with the scientific evidence strewn around her and glowing on large screens in the lab.

But losing Bo? There was no sense in that. No sense that Lauren could understand, anyway. So she squared her shoulders and feigned interest in her research rather than let Dyson see just how terrified she really was. Because when it came to pretending that she didn’t feel anything; when it was necessary for her to hide all the emotions raging inside her, she’d had enough years of practice to almost fool herself.

Part 30

Bo sat down rather awkwardly in the room underneath Trick’s bar. She’d been here before, of course, but there was an atmosphere in the still quiet of the space that unnerved her. Shelves, heaped with books and objects that Bo was fairly certain weren’t just antiques, lined one side of the room. On the other, tables groaned under the weight of items covered with dust sheets. If she hadn’t been so distracted, she might have peered underneath them and satisfied some, if not all, her curiosity about the bartender.

Because she knew that Trick, for all his assertions to the contrary, wasn’t just a bartender. That his history with the Fae ran back further than most people’s; that he had garnered trust, respect and loyalty from so many of his kind, it was almost impossible to consider him giving that up to manage a bar.

Settling herself a little more comfortably into the huge armchair he had gestured towards, Bo watched as Trick sat down opposite her, ensconced in another armchair that quite engulfed his small figure. He gazed at her for a moment in which she shifted slightly, her discomfort returning to spread a faint flush across her cheeks.

“So,” he finally said quietly. “You decided to take me up on my offer.”

Bo smiled sheepishly. “Uh… kinda,” she told him.

“Kinda?” Trick echoed, eyebrows rising. “Bo, perhaps I haven’t made it clear to you, but committing to learning about who you are… it’s not a kinda situation.” His tone was kind, but his face was grave.

“Yeah,” Bo shifted in the chair, already uncomfortable. “I mean, I do want to learn more about myself.”

Trick steepled his fingers and rested his chin on their point as he looked at her with dubious eyes. He’d expected Bo to come here sooner or later. He’d also expected the reticence that she was displaying now. Fae children never resisted learning about their history and abilities simply because they’d never known anything else. But Bo had been raised as a human; lived as a human, too. And, as an adult, she was somewhat behind the curve as far as self-knowledge went.

He hummed to himself for a moment, contemplating her frown and the confusion that crossed the planes of her face, lingering around her eyes and mouth. Yes; Bo did want to learn about herself – even if that necessitated starting at the elementary level – but there was something else on her features today. The same consternation he’d espied the last time he’d seen her.

Settling himself more comfortably in his chair, Trick’s hands dropped into his lap and he smiled a little more benevolently across the room.

“But?” he said, as Bo’s gaze flickered towards him and then fled away again around the room, alighting on the array of different objects surrounding them without really looking at anything.

“But… ” she let out a huge sigh. “There’s something else I wanted to ask you about first.”

Now she looked directly at him and he almost flinched at the pained shadows in her eyes, pulling at her mouth and twisting it into heartfelt anguish.

“I’m listening.”

“Trick, I know you understand more about the Fae world than you let on,” Bo said slowly. Trick shifted in his chair and folded his arms over

his chest, but it was rather more with a sense of pride than defense. Bo proffered a taut, tiny smile and sighed again.

“This drug… it’s coming from nowhere,” she said. “And until recently, it was Fae who were dying. But now – “

“Lauren,” Trick said, cutting Bo off and seeing her mouth open, surprised. “Like you said,” he nodded graciously, “I know more about the Fae world than I let on. And I heard about Lauren being affected.”

Bo’s jaw hardened and she shrugged but it was a jerky, stilted movement. Trick had always been good at reading people – in fact, it had often been remarked that that was his special Fae power. But his years as a bartender and the myriad of people who had come to The Dal seeking solace, comfort, a kindly ear and a safe refuge had taught him to be overly sensitive to every facial expression, every sigh, and every movement that someone made.

Bo was no different. And even though the front she was presenting indicated stoicism and bravery, he could tell that what she was hiding was likely tearing her apart.

“I know it always seems like I’m asking you for help,” Bo stated quite suddenly. Trick frowned, but said nothing as the Succubus drew in a breath and shook her head. “I’ve already taken so much from you,” she added, flushing slightly. “I mean… I know what you’ve done for me… for both of us.”

Trick merely nodded in comprehension. Going directly against The Ash and incurring his wrath – albeit a delayed one that hadn’t yet come to fruition. But lines had been drawn and Bo understood that, if nothing else, about Fae politics. He sighed inwardly: Bo’s sense of heroism was borne from a world where good and evil were so clearly delineated that choices were self-evident and obvious.

But in the Fae world, good and evil were such nebulous concepts that Trick knew Bo struggled to form absolute associations with them. There was the Light and the Dark; simple concepts that hid a myriad of complex machinations. The Light was capable of exacting hard laws, harsher judgments. The Dark, a choice made for a rather more primal personal liberty. He wasn’t surprised that Bo hadn’t chosen a side. Because, having seen the things each was capable of, how could she ever be sure that good existed in either?

“I happen to like Lauren,” he said equivocally. “Contrary to most Fae, I think she’s good for you.”

“She is,” Bo agreed, before her head dipped and she chewed at her lower lip. “I dunno if I’m good for her. I mean,” she lifted her head and shot a nervous glance towards Trick, “do you know how she got this drug inside her?”

Now it was Trick’s turn to look away. He had an idea, of course, but it involved rather more seamy thoughts than he was prepared to contemplate. So he shrugged non-committally and waved his hand in the air.

“Not important,” he said dismissively.

“To you, maybe,” Bo’s lower lip jutted forwards in childish self-recrimination. “Is this what I’ve got to look forward to? A life where every time I Succubus someone I put their life at risk?”

“Bo,” Trick leaned forwards in his chair, placing his elbows onto his knees. “You and Lauren share the risk. She wouldn’t enter into a relationship with you lightly. She’s lived among Fae for many years now and understands the potential dangers they represent.”

“Does she?” Bo wasn’t so sure. But Trick leaned back in his chair again and shook his head.

“Don’t underestimate her,” he replied. “She may be human, but she’s not naïve.”

“Which means I am,” Bo said dolefully, shoulders slumping. “I wanted to give her… I mean… ”

She stopped, her lower lip pushing out even further. “It was meant to be beautiful,” she murmured, swallowing over the lump of hurt in her throat.

“Bo, the more you learn about yourself; about your place in this world and in our community, the more you’ll learn to be a better judge of where you use your powers. And on whom,” Trick added with a narrowed gaze. “The key to understanding yourself is the key to knowing just how important you can be, to all of us.”

Now Bo frowned, confused. “All of who?”

Trick waved his hand in the air and shook his head. Perhaps now wasn’t the time for revelation. It never is, he thought acerbically. There was always something, always some crisis that diverted and blocked Bo from starting down the path to knowing her full self. Her destiny, even. And the longer she delayed beginning that journey, the more precarious the balance between Light and Dark became.

He sighed, looking across the room at Bo. She was so young. Too young for this, he surmised. She was unready and unwilling to consider anything except the bounds of her heart. And that very human part of her, he knew, was in turmoil right now.

“I don’t know much about this drug,” he told her, seeing disappointment flood her features. “Only what I’ve heard in the bar, which is little more than gossip, at best. But I’ll ask around discreetly.”

“Have you ever known of anything like this before?” Bo’s interest was piqued and she leaned towards him, tilting her head onto one side.

“Once,” Trick said slowly, his face screwed up as he sifted through his vast library of memories. “A long time ago. But back then narcotics were slightly different. They weren’t like they are in the human world and definitely not like this thing that’s in our society now. In the Old Times, an altered state of consciousness was linked to a worship of darker powers. The deification of an atavistic being who lived only to serve Chaos.”

“Atavistic?” Bo repeated, trying the word on for size and finding that it sounded foreign to her ears. “I don’t understand… ”

“Primitive,” Trick supplied kindly and watched as her eyes widened and she nodded silently. “Most of what we now call narcotic use within Fae history was linked to sacrificial worship. But it was deemed unrefined by our elders and as a community, we outlawed it. It led to great division within our people and pulled us towards a threat to our very survival.”

Bo frowned, seeing the grave expression on his face and feeling a sudden chill of fear rush up her spine and tingle at the back of her neck.

“Trick,” she leaned forwards, resting her elbows onto her knees, “this thing… this drug… it’s not just a drug is it?”

She knew she was right from the way in which he avoided her eyes. Instead, he gazed down at his hands, neatly linked in his lap, shrugging a little.

“I don’t know,” he answered. “We live in a modern society, Bo. Fae behavior, for better or worse, has begun to integrate with the way humans live. Drug use isn’t solely confined to the human world, but it is something that we consider beneath us.”

“That’s a hell of a cultural superiority complex you’ve got there.” Bo lifted her eyebrows sardonically and even half-smiled as Trick shrugged with a faint grin. “No wonder most Fae hate me for choosing humans.”

“Not all humans are as bad as some Fae would have you believe,” he intoned.

“You don’t have to tell me that.” Bo rolled her eyes. “And not all Fae are as great as they’d have me believe, either.”

“Hm,” Trick pressed his lips together and wondered if Bo, for all her innocence, was a better judge of character than he’d initially given her credit for. If, perhaps, she was better at most things he’d suspected she lacked. Sometimes, she wore an expression of world-weary insouciance, as though she’d seen all of this before.

And then, he decided, at other times she appeared like a lost child. Just as she was. As was intended for her all along.

“I gotta go,” Bo planted her hands onto the arms of the chair and rose from the seat. “The only lead I have has disappeared… god knows where and Lauren’s… ” Her voice trailed off as she looked down at the ground and shrugged helplessly.

“Bo,” Trick stood and waited for the Succubus to lift her head and look at him. When she did, he frowned at the anguish written across her features; the expression of one who sees the jaws of a trap closing around them and who is powerless to hold them at bay. He knew how that felt only too well. And even if his own trap hadn’t lain in wait inside the heart of another, he’d been caught all the same.

“If this lead, as you say, has disappeared and if this drug is linked to something dark in our world, then you won’t find her,” he explained sadly. “Just like humans do, Fae have a way of dealing with dissenters. Gone is gone, in this world. You can’t save everyone, you know.”

Bo’s eyes narrowed and she folded her arms, assuming a posture of defiance. It bled into her expression as she gazed at the diminutive Fae and her chin jutted out, nostrils flaring in repudiation of Trick’s wisdom and experience.

“Maybe not,” she said reluctantly, before taking a breath, shoulders squaring against the world that wanted to consume her. “But it’s not gonna stop me trying.”

***

“Goddammit!” The cry left Lauren’s lips as the tray she was holding slid from her hands and crashed to the floor, alerting the alarmed gaze of a couple of staff nurses. For a moment, she clenched her teeth together, staring balefully at the sterilized instruments that lay strewn around her feet as though they, and not the uncontrollable shaking of her hands, were to blame.

As one of the nurses darted forwards and bent to pick up the steel objects scattered around, Lauren let out an impatient sigh and rolled her eyes.

“Leave them,” she demanded, as the nurse looked up at her with wide, wary eyes.

“Leave. Them.” She spoke more deliberately than necessary, voice trembling almost as much as her hands, pressed together in a ball against her chest. With difficulty, Lauren swallowed and attempted to curb the lump of anger in her throat. It wasn’t the nurse’s fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault but her own. But self control had disappeared some time ago and now, Lauren knew, she was becoming a liability to anyone who dared be around her for any length of time.

“Just… ” she began, in a somewhat less aggressive tone, although her tone sounded forced even to her own ears. “Look, just leave them. I dropped them. I’ll pick them up.”

The nurse, a young Fae who had always been a little more forgiving of Lauren’s humanity than the older staff members, proffered a nervous smile and stood up, taking a couple of halting steps backwards.

“I don’t mind, Dr Lewis,” she said lightly, picking at her scrub top. “It’s really no trouble.”

Ignoring the amiable features of the girl, Lauren sighed again and clenched her hands together so hard that her knuckles turned white. “I know it’s no trouble,” she said through gritted teeth, fixing the nurse with a steely gaze. “Which is why I can just as easily do it myself.”

The girl’s face fell and she nodded, flushing bright red under Lauren’s authoritarian stance and the anger coming off the doctor in waves.

“I’m… I’m sorry Dr… uh… Dr Lewis,” she mumbled, backing away.

“Yes, fine,” Lauren snapped. “Don’t be sorry. Just be elsewhere. I’m not an invalid and I don’t need you fussing over me.”

She knew as soon as she’d spoken that it was inappropriate. But, more than that, it was uncharacteristic. Lauren had always managed her labs with a firm hand, albeit a kind one. It simply wasn’t in her nature to be short-tempered with her staff. In fact, she was fairly certain that when it came to leadership, she could stand to be a little more firm, not less.

But then, her nature had been fluid of late, to say the least. The things that she’d never integrated into her personality – no matter how much The Ash and his Fae tried and tested her – seemed to be there now, nonetheless. All the hard, brittle edges that she’d smoothed away throughout her life, either by design or circumstance, were now razor sharp. And they manifested themselves in the irritation that was always under the surface, increasingly impossible to hide away under platitudes and manners.

The nurse was standing back a few paces, head hanging almost to her chest, submissive and patient. For no reason at all, that seemed to infuriate Lauren all the more.

“Go,” she said abruptly, as the nurse’s head shot up and she stared at Lauren, a pained expression crossing her delicate features.

“Just go,” Lauren said, waving her hand towards the door. Looking around the lab, she espied the other nurses who had been engrossed in some DNA workups that Sagi had ordered. “All of you,” Lauren raised her voice and caught the attention of her staff. “Take a break. Now.”

For a moment, they looked at one another, nonplussed. This work was urgent – that had been made very clear to them. And their own sense of self-preservation was in every experiment, every exploration into the nature of this drug. Stopping their work now seemed unusual, to say the least. At best, inadvisable.

“I said, take a break!” Lauren stood tall, shoving her hands into the pockets of her lab coat and staring at each one of them in turn. “I can’t concentrate with you all scurrying around here. Go, and don’t come back.” She turned away from them, not wanting to see the glances they were casting at one another, silent and judgmental and not a little frightened. Yes; she knew that this wasn’t her. But she hadn’t felt like herself in what seemed like such a long time that she’d almost become accustomed to living this way. To existing with a torrent of unexpressed rage surging inside her every time she came into contact with another being.

It worried her that all of those beings were Fae. If she were to lose her connection with them, then what did she really have left? The Fae world was all she’d ever known for the majority of her adult life and here she was, actively destroying any and all affinity with it, with her work, with the constant passions in her life.

The nurses put down their instruments, peeling off latex gloves from their hands and murmuring to one another. They were wise enough not to resist Lauren’s demand; scared enough to welcome an excuse to escape from her gimlet gaze and stern features. One by one, they left the lab until Lauren was finally, mercifully alone.

She couldn’t go on like this.

As she bent to pick up the instruments and the metal tray they had lain upon, she frowned and sucked in a huge lungful of air. She wasn’t sure if she could go on at all. Her body had begun to ache constantly; her mind had started throwing such horrifying thoughts at her that she considered oblivion a blessed relief. Almost inciting Dyson to that point had thrilled her; knowing that she’d done so disgusted her.

Her fingers closed around a scalpel, slender and glittering in her grasp. It would be so easy. So quick.

So messy.

Her mouth twisted as she surveyed it for a moment, her gaze lingering over the curved edge and the knife’s point upon which she was tempted to throw herself. Being a doctor had its advantages, after all. Were she to apply that blade to her skin, she had enough knowledge and expertise to do so with devastating effect. With fatal results. That, at least, might alleviate the destructive urge that pounded at her temples and formed a knot at the back of her neck.

Gulping, Lauren slowly put the scalpel into the tray, hearing a metallic clink as it settled into place. Bo had once called her strong. And she had been so all of her life; she’d had to be. Losing her sister, losing her research, almost losing her life… Lauren had always viewed these things as forfeits in order to maintain her place in the Fae community; to keep herself ensconced under the protection of The Ash. She had played the game as well as she was able, navigating through this world with a skill that had, at times, surprised even herself.

I’m not on the winning team anymore, she thought grimly, picking up forceps and placing them beside the scalpel on the tray. I’m not on any team anymore.

She recalled the looks that the nurses had given her; suspicious, near-resentful. Their wariness of humankind that she’d tried so hard to eradicate had returned in every recent terse exchange. Rationally, she knew that their mistrust was in the drug and its effects. Word had spread of the mysterious infiltration of their society, the spate of deaths and the inability of the medical team to find a solution. Not to mention Sagi’s presence in the Light labs, which had caused consternation and not a little fear among her staff.

No; she told herself, straightening up and placing the tray carefully onto the desktop in front of her, all items in it retrieved from the floor.

Paranoia might tell her that the people she worked with – had worked with for years – neither liked nor trusted her. But rationality made an effort to subdue those fears. It just wasn’t wholly convincing.

Or even partially.

A noise of surprise from the doorway made her spin around, ready to unleash a tirade of aggravation upon whoever had seen fit to disturb her.

Sagi was looking across the lab, brows drawn together in confusion at the deserted room, save for Lauren, standing agitatedly by the desk at the opposite wall. As his gaze alighted on her, he couldn’t prevent the smug grin that spread his lips.

“All alone?” he mused, relishing the glower that the human doctor shot at him.

“No,” Lauren swept a hand around the room. “We’re having a party. Feel free to join in.”

The Dark Fae doctor stifled a laugh behind tight lips before sauntering quite casually over to a pile of notes by Lauren’s side. Rifling through them absently, he waited until Lauren was literally vibrating with rage before lifting his head and blinking pensively, unearthly blue eyes piercing into the very heart of her, it seemed. But she didn’t shrink from his gaze; in fact, she seemed to stand a little taller, eyes a little darker.

“What?” she said bluntly, chin jutting out. “What is it now, Sagi?”

The Kitsune shrugged and waved a hand in the air, much like his mistress did. The gesture wasn’t lost on Lauren, who bristled and tugged at the lapels of her coat.

“You’re alone a lot these days, aren’t you?” he observed, tilting his head onto one side. “Can’t stand to be around anyone. Everyone bothers you, don’t they?” His question was rhetorical, as the answer was written across the planes of Lauren’s face in dark shadows beneath her eyes, lines around her mouth, that strange light in her eyes that was at once bright and feverish, yet dull and empty.

“Everyone? No.” Lauren lied defiantly. “You? Yes.”

Again, Sagi let out a murmuring laugh and shrugged, the dismissive movement of his shoulders enraging Lauren. Unconsciously, her fingers slid over the lip of the metal tray on the desk and tapped a rapid beat on the surface for a few seconds.

“We’re making good progress on the constituents of the narcotic,” he said, ignoring her narrowed gaze and curled lip. “Of course,” he nodded, “it might be too late for you, but for the next Fae, we may even have a key to a counteractive agent.”

“Good,” Lauren forced out, her throat thick with such hatred for this creature, this interloper, that she could barely speak.

“Yes,” Sagi inclined his head graciously. “But I’m fascinated, doctor, by the effects. Most Fae expire from this drug after a few days and here you are, outliving them all. Quite the achievement.” He was smiling, but his eyes were cold, almost envious.

“Tell me,” he lowered his voice and leaned in towards her. “How does it feel?”

“Feel?” Lauren echoed, shrinking from him despite the anger boiling in her chest.

“Yes,” Sagi whispered. “How does it feel to know that this drug is in every cell of your body? That it’s changing your DNA into something… else?” His eyebrows lifted enquiringly and he took a short breath, blue eyes alight with a rapacious fire.

“Can you feel it stripping you of everything you used to cling to?” he hummed, his voice assuming an almost melodious charm that dripped from every syllable. “Do you know that you’re changing, or does it take you by surprise every time that it happens?”

His words were innocuous, but his line of questioning felt overly intimate and Lauren shuddered, despite her ire. That bright blue gaze trickled up and down her body and she flushed, silently cursing the heat that spread up her neck. The tone of his voice was unmistakably flirtatious, sensual in a way that thrust nausea into her belly and a horrified sense of violation into her gut.

“I just want to know,” he insisted, “what it feels like, doctor. Do you feel as though you can do anything… be anything? How liberating that must be. How… ” He paused and smiled at her again, white teeth gleaming in his dark face. “How delightfully free.”

“Shut up,” Lauren heard her voice, hoarse and jagged. Her fingers clenched on the desk, nails scraping over the metal of the tray just underneath them.

“Does having our affliction make you feel like one of us?” Sagi was closer now, close enough so that Lauren could feel the warmth of his breath on her skin, the strange perfume of his body wrapping itself around her like a seduction. “Is that why you goaded your little Succubus into giving it to you in the first place?”

Now she moved. Now she acted. Now she was stepping into his space, up against him. Her fingers curled around metal and before she could even process motion, her hand was at the base of his neck, knuckles digging into the skin there. And the scalpel’s blade was along his throat, lingering and pressing dangerously over a leaping pulse point beneath rich, black skin.

“I said shut up, Sagi,” she hissed, taking repugnant delight in the alarm that flickered in his eyes, the pulse that beat just a little faster, a little harder. “My lab; my rules; my orders. If you can’t play nice, then don’t play at all. Do you understand me?”

The corners of his mouth curved upwards. He said nothing.

“Do you,” Lauren pressed the blade harder so that it indented the skin, scraping hard enough to draw blood, “understand me?” She watched, fascinated, as a drop of deep red crept along the line of the blade. Her eyes followed its path and she was seized by the sudden urge to push harder, push deeper, push Sagi from her lab and her life forever.

“I understand,” Sagi muttered, drawing in breath through his nose, eyes never leaving Lauren’s face. He observed the satisfaction rearing in her gaze and drank it in, an elixir of a different kind.

And then he smiled. “Odd, isn’t it?” he remarked in a quiet whisper.

“What is?” Lauren barked, fingers clenching around the scalpel’s handle. She could barely take her eyes off the blood that inched along its blade, lighting a dark fire in her heart that terrified and elated her all at the same time.

“The oath you took,” Sagi said softly. “Do no harm. It’s more of a philosophy than a promise, isn’t it? And look at you now, doctor.”

She blinked.

She balked.

The scalpel clattered to the floor and she lurched backwards, eyes wide in recognition of what she’d done. Of what she’d become.

“Oh my god… ” she murmured, horrified and gazing down at her hands, palms upward as though they, not Sagi’s throat, bore traces of the blood that had transfixed her so.

“Oh my god,” she repeated, shaking her head. Her mouth twisted in disgust and she glanced up at Sagi, who seemed content to revel in her shame, a complacent expression flooding over his features.

“Isn’t it wonderful?” he urged, reaching out to her with a much steadier hand than the one that jerked from his fingers’ embrace. “Isn’t it powerful, that feeling? Don’t you just want to lose yourself in it?”

But Lauren wasn’t filled with wonder. Nor was she filled with the wicked delight that filled the Kitsune’s eyes. She clutched at her stomach, feeling sick and weak; feeling all the anger drain from her and take almost every ounce of strength she had with it. Stumbling away from Sagi, Lauren made for the doorway, barely taking a breath until she was through it, down the corridor and away from the site of her shame.

Part 31

Dyson strode purposefully down the palatial corridor of the Light’s headquarters and tried not to think too hard about the reasons he was here. Lately, he’d been trying not to think about much at all that was connected with the Fae world and had thrown himself into his work as a cop with such vigor that Hale had wondered out loud what the hell was wrong with him. Dyson’s immersion into human affairs and his tacit reluctance to talk about the drug affecting the Fae had worried the Siren; every time Hale attempted to bring the subject up, Dyson had shut

him down.

Hale knew better than to pry any further, but it was clear to the Siren that things in Dyson’s world weren’t what they might be. Not even close.

Leaving Hale at the police station under a mountain of paperwork had seemed like a convenient avoidance tactic. But, from the moment he’d driven past the sentries at the gate, Dyson had felt an almost oppressive gloom descend over him that made him wish Hale was here after all. He used to take pride in his work for the Light, but lately it had seemed a far more onerous task than his years of experience had prepared him for.

There was something amiss in their world; something insidious that could not be specified, only sensed. Dyson felt it around him with every step he took down the marbled corridor, heard it in every sound that echoed off the cold walls around him. He could feel a creeping sense of dread on his skin, like the damp onset of rain, of a darkness that he’d rarely seen before. The uneasy truce between the Light and the Dark had existed long before his time and he had been raised observing how the lines between their sides wavered, but never broke completely.

Now he felt as though the line was fractured, the breaks in it visible enough to drive great fissures between their peoples. Trick had told him of the Old Times, when the Fae battled themselves almost to extinction. The Dark Days, they called it in some circles. Days when brotherhood and clan allegiances were put to the test and loyalties were called into question.

Dyson had fought in wars before; he had become embittered on the battlefield and had killed many more Fae than he cared to contemplate. But this? This was different. This was a heavy cloud hanging over the community that had been fostered through peace and attrition. And it threatened every single one of them.

In his long life, the detective had assumed many guises, many roles. He had lived many lives and in each of them, aligned himself to the Light for the good of the Fae. For the good of humankind, too. There had never been any doubt in his mind about where he took up his stance, steadfast and strong. He’d never had any reason for doubt.

But now he was troubled. His mind and heart were filled with trepidation, with questions, with the uncertainty of their world and the place he occupied in it. Because the darkness he’d seen filtering through their world had always had the Light to extinguish it. There had always been a balance, precarious and unstable, but a balance, nonetheless. The Light and Dark had learned to coexist. And even if that existence was fraught with mistrust and a waning tolerance for one another, it had kept peace for centuries.

Turning a corner, Dyson approached the heavy doors that led to the conference room. On reaching them, he paused, hand outstretched towards the huge metal handle. He couldn’t pinpoint it, he couldn’t even begin to describe it, but there was something bleeding in this world. Something dark that went beyond the machinations of The Morrigan and her kind. He’d seen it in Lauren’s eyes, wandering across the planes of her face with abandon and the sort of chilling portent that Trick had once described.

So as he grasped the handle and twisted it, opening the door and entering the conference room, Dyson’s face was drawn in lines of considered concern. He had an unsettling feeling that whatever was threatening their community, it was only just beginning to claw its way to the surface.

The long table in the center of the room was almost empty. At its head sat The Ash, brows drawn in contemplation above solemn brown eyes that tracked Dyson’s pathway up the length of the room. Behind The Ash were two burly Light Fae that Dyson acknowledged with a brief nod of his head as he drew near.

To The Ash’s left, and directing a less than gracious welcome towards Dyson, The Morrigan sat bolt upright in her chair. She was dressed in scarlet, the color matched only by painted lips that stretched in a sneer amidst her pale features.

She arched an eyebrow towards The Ash as Dyson tugged out a chair and dropped into it.

“Did you really need to bring in your watchdog?” she intoned acerbically.

The Ash glowered at her, lips pursed in rebuke. His gaze shifted to move over her shoulder to where her own cohorts stood, impassive yet with pernicious intent tensing their huge figures.

“Dyson has been involved in this investigation from the beginning,” he said quietly. “It’s right and fitting that he’s here.”

“Ah yes, that little job he does in the human world.” The Morrigan’s mouth twisted at the mere mention of it before she lifted a hand and waved it towards The Ash. “Well, I suppose if he absolutely has to be here, then he does,” she demurred.

“What I fail to understand is why he’s here.” Her gaze fell on a figure hitherto unnoticed by Dyson. A figure who, despite his short stature, met her eyes with a fortitude that spoke of his age, experience, wisdom and defiance.

“Trick.” Dyson spoke for the first time, leaning forwards, elbows resting on the table. He frowned and shook his head slightly, glancing at The Morrigan. “What are you doing here?”

Trick’s presence was unusual, to say the least, particularly as his relationship with The Ash was filled with mutual animosity and distrust. But the diminutive bartender stepped forward anyway, grasping the silver-topped walking stick by his side with sturdy fingers.

“Mr Trick is here at my request,” The Ash spoke before Trick could explain himself. “He has some information that may prove useful.”

Standing by the side of The Ash’s chair, Trick looked at Dyson with sympathy in his eyes. With sorrow, too. The detective’s senses prickled with portentous concern.

“Information that I’ve yet to hear,” The Morrigan was brisk, impatience coloring her tone. “And it had better be good, little man. My people are running scared and that,” she looked at The Ash, “makes my job so much harder than I’d like it to be.”

Dyson frowned. “Running scared?” he questioned.

The Ash took a short breath, rubbing at his chin and leaning back in his chair. “It appears that the Dark are now being targeted by this narcotic substance.”

“Three deaths in as many days,” The Morrigan interjected with a hard tone.

“Dark Fae are taking this thing too?” Dyson mused.

“Or being given it,” The Morrigan glared at him. “And when I find out by whom, I’ll have their head.”

One of the Dark Fae standing behind her chair let out a low growl and she smiled coldly.

“You seem to be accusing the Light of being a part of this,” The Ash told her. “Do you think we would kill our own people in order to remove suspicion?”

“I think you’d do anything to assert your own inflated ego over the Fae,” The Morrigan snapped, one of her hands splaying out on the table as she darted forwards over it.

“Remember yourselves!” Trick stepped forwards in between them, tapping his walking stick against the polished wood surface and effectively silencing both leaders. His face set in consternation, he shook his head and glanced at Dyson before fixing first The Ash, then The Morrigan with a hard gaze, unafraid.

“Both sides are losing people,” he said firmly. “Both sides have a vested interest in finding answers. Whatever personal issues you have with one another won’t help us to do that.”

The Ash and The Morrigan exchanged a look that fairly crackled in the air between them, but were wise enough to say nothing.

“This isn’t about Light against Dark,” Trick said, looking around the table. “I’m afraid it’s something much more harmful. I’ve been gathering as much information as I can, and consulting some of the ancient texts.”

“And?” The Morrigan urged.

Trick paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts. He’d acted on his suspicions after Bo had visited him, reaching out into the community and beyond. What he’d found had both terrified and disappointed him. Because no matter how far the Fae community had progressed and changed in his lifetime, it still floundered over its own sense of identity.

“It’s Chaos,” he said bluntly. “Early Greek philosophers rationalized it into a primordial state of being from which the Gods would arise. It was also known as a vast and dark void that produced Nyx.”

Dyson frowned. “Nyx?” he enquired. “What is that?”

“Not what,” Trick told him with an indulgent smile. “Who. Nyx is known as the primordial goddess of the night. She was, by all accounts, a shadowy figure who stood near creation and was the mother of Hypnos, the god of sleep, and Thanatos, the god of death.”

Huffing to himself, Dyson leaned back in his chair. “Sounds like a real charmer,” he muttered.

“Quite,” Trick nodded, stony-faced. “But, like all human mythology, their stories are based on encounters with Fae. Early Fae. Back in ancient times, Fae weren’t quite the sophisticated creatures we are today.”

The Morrigan rolled her eyes and sighed loudly. “So the humans were as stupid back then as they are now. So what?”

“Nyx was Fae,” Trick said, staring her in the eye until she pursed her lips and looked away. He wasn’t afraid of The Morrigan. Nor was he afraid of The Ash. In fact, the only thing Trick was afraid of was what this drug was doing to their community. To what it might do, given the chance.

“She was a very special type of Fae,” he continued. “Unique, even. She was made from the shadows and lived in them, too. She was born of chaos and the cults that worshipped her lauded sleep and death, the results of chaos. Nyx existed to perpetuate those ideals. To bring a primal state into being and tear away everything that we are so nothing remains.”

“Like the drug,” Dyson said slowly, as three pairs of eyes traveled to roam over his face. He shifted in his chair and shrugged slightly. “I don’t know as much about Fae history as Trick, but I do know that the MO of all our victims fits what he’s just described. The mutation of DNA, the change in behavior… it all fits.”

“Okay,” The Morrigan lifted a hand and pushed at her hair, “now we’ve had a little trip down memory lane, how the hell does that relate to three dead Dark Fae and a group of elders who are, quite frankly, on my back about this night and day.” She looked at The Ash and blinked slowly. “Is this what you invited me here for? A history lesson?”

The Ash heaved a sigh of resigned offense and shook his head. “You know as well as I do that we banished Fae who served Chaos centuries ago.”

“Well isn’t that just like you,” The Morrigan said dryly, “taking the fun out of everything.”

Ignoring her, The Ash turned to Trick and inclined his head in that slow, deliberate way he had. “Are you suggesting that members of our community who died were involved in worshipping Chaos? That’s unacceptable.”

Trick shrugged and tightened his grip around the walking stick in his hand. “No,” he said solemnly. “I’m not. I’m suggesting that they weren’t worshipping Chaos, but that they were Chaos itself.”

The Morrigan’s head jerked back on her neck and she fixed Trick with a disdainful glare, eyes widening before she barked out a laugh. “I’ve heard some things in my life,” she began, “but that’s about the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever said, old man.” Looking across towards The Ash, she pursed her lips and shook her head.

“You brought me here to listen to this?” she snarled, her red lips curling. “The ramblings of someone who has betrayed our community more than once? Don’t waste any more of my time.”

She stood abruptly, pushing the chair back behind her before one of her lackeys had the opportunity to pull it out with his meat hook hands. The Morrigan stared down at Trick, leaning forwards slightly and towering over his small form.

“You should know better,” she said softly, her voice a dangerous hiss in the quiet room. “When you have a more realistic theory as to where this drug comes from and who’s handing it out like candy to my people, you let me know, okay?”

It was only when she turned on her heel that Trick, exchanging a rueful expression with The Ash, moved forwards. Taking two steps towards her retreating figure, he shook his head and let out a tiny, impatient sigh.

“There was a cult, in the Old Times,” he said, his words halting The Morrigan’s swaying form momentarily. “They indulged in dangerous substances in order to bring them closer to Thanatos. It was their way of providing a conduit for Chaos in the Fae world. It almost destroyed us, once. You’ve heard the stories of The Darkness, haven’t you?”

By the time The Morrigan turned to face Trick, there was a smirk on her face that lifted one corner of her mouth. She looked first at him, then at The Ash, eyes bright – whether with anger or comprehension, neither Fae could tell.

“The Darkness,” she said slowly, deliberately, “is a myth. I know how you like to blame my people for all the things that are wrong in our world, but we’ve never believed in The Darkness.” She spat out the words as though they tasted bad in her mouth. “It’s what parents tell their children to scare them into behaving themselves. My own mother used to terrify me with stories of The Darkness and how it could consume us all if we let it.”

She tilted her head to one side for a moment and her mouth turned downwards in contemplation. “But then, she always was a woefully misguided creature,” she mused. “It came as quite a shock to her when she was consumed, not by The Darkness, but rather by the crushing weight of her own ignorance.” A tiny smile tugged at the corner of her mouth and she shook her head, dismissing both the memory and Trick’s suggestion in one fell swoop.

“It’s not a myth,” Trick’s shoulders lifted in rebuke and The Morrigan let out a dismissive huff of mirthless laughter. The diminutive Fae moved another couple of steps forward again and stood his ground as The Morrigan’s gaze raked over him.

“It would be naïve to imagine that the worship of Chaos and the desire to eradicate order in our world has disappeared.” Now he glanced back at The Ash, who stared back, impassive. “Whether you accept it or not, there is growing unrest among our peoples,” he continued. “They see Chaos and The Darkness as a way to assuage that unrest.”

“By removing it completely?” Dyson spoke from across the table. He rubbed at his beard, frowning. Drawing in a long breath, he leaned back in his chair and shook his head. “What good could that possibly do? The Fae who’ve died from this drug were out of control.”

“Exactly.” The Ash’s voice was soft and low, but agitation jumped from syllable to syllable and he lifted his hand as The Morrigan opened her mouth to refute Trick’s claims.

“The Darkness almost destroyed any order The First Ash established in our world,” he explained to Dyson, but his gaze never left The Morrigan who was listening intently despite the expression of abject boredom on her features. “It signified a return to the absolutes that governed our society when we were no better than animals. No better than humans,” he added gravely.

“The rules we live under are there for a reason,” Trick said, as Dyson hummed a reluctant note of agreement. “Without them, Fae can’t exist in this world. Without them, Thanatos and Nyx are more powerful than we are.”

“Ancient Fae asserting control over my region?” The Morrigan finally spoke and threw up her hands, tugging on the lapels of her coat. “And for what? To bring about disorder just for the hell of it?” Her eyebrows rose and she rolled her eyes.

“I’m all in for a wild party but what you’re telling me makes no sense at all.” Sarcasm dripped from her tone as she looked from one man to the other.

The Ash paused, steepling his fingers beneath his chin and tilting his head to one side. “Such is the essence of Chaos,” he said quietly.

The room fell silent, each Fae considering Trick’s theory. Even The Morrigan’s gaze dropped towards the floor and her stance wavered slightly, shoulders dipping as she felt a chill creeping up her body. Not a chill of horror or fear, though; a chill of anticipatory loss. It clung around the back of her neck with icy fingers as she wondered, not for the first time, if her hold on power was as firm as she believed. She could understand The Light’s desire to break away from The Ash; he was such a killjoy, after all. His rules and codicils about humans were enough to make her nauseous, quite frankly.

But she’d never before thought her own people might turn against her. That they might desire something other than the rich life she offered them. The Morrigan had always decried a tentative approach to living among humans; she allowed The Dark freedom to take what they wanted and cleaned up the consequences. It was the way of their world. The way of her rule.

But the rules that had been put in place to protect their society now seemed to be the very things that threatened to break it apart. And not with the vainglorious battle that The Morrigan lusted after, but with something as innocuous and unfulfilling as a drug. A drug that contained a prescient harbinger of a loss of power, a loss of control: things that The Morrigan prized above all others in her guidance of The Dark. She was named for a warrior and had accepted that mantle with the roar of battle at her back. But she wasn’t sure how to fight this. She wasn’t even sure if she could.

Gathering herself slightly, she drew up to her full height and gazed imperiously down at The Ash, at Trick, even at Dyson. She despised them; ridiculed everything they stood for and all that they tried to protect. The Light were the old enemy, tracing animosity back for thousands of years to the inception of choice and the creation of what now represented the Fae world. It was as it was intended to be. Even The Morrigan knew that.

“I want this thing gone,” she said slowly. She lifted her chin and glowered at The Ash. “I will not be held to ransom by a bunch of drugged out crazies. I call the shots around here, not The Darkness. So if it is back,” she waved her hand in the air, “then we’re going to find whoever’s responsible and bring them down.”

Her eyes widened imperceptibly as she looked at her Light Fae counterpart. As their eyes met, it was tacit understanding that passed between them. The Ash might represent everything she abhorred; he might even represent the enemy she had to eradicate in order to push the balance of power in her favor. But right now? Right now he was the only ally she had against something that history described as a bigger threat to their world than the forces of Light against Dark.

“It seems we have an accord,” The Ash rumbled, rising from his seat.

Reluctantly, The Morrigan nodded, meeting his eyes once more and resisting the urge to fly at him and scratch them out. But exercising restraint was what had elevated her to the head of her kind and she tempered her impulses with the knowledge and experience that power had brought her. With the fear of losing it, too.

Waving at her lackeys, The Morrigan turned on her heel and left the conference room without another word. As the door clicked shut behind her, The Ash let out a faint noise of acknowledgement and glanced down at Trick beside him.

The small Fae gripped his walking stick and shook his head, taking a breath and letting it out slowly.

“It’s starting to spread,” he commented. The Ash nodded. Now was not the time for pretense or secrecy, and he was aware that Trick knew as much about their world and the ancient prophecies in it as he did himself. In order for them to be fulfilled, The Ash realized that he was going to need Trick as much as the Succubus, in the end. It was a reluctant humility that colored his gaze and tugged at his shoulders. Achieving his status had been relatively easy. Maintaining it, more difficult than he had ever imagined.

Dyson leaned forwards, elbows resting on the table. “This Darkness,” he said, blinking under the gaze of the Light Fae leader and his close friend. “How do we find it?”

The Ash sat down in his opulent chair, smoothing his palms over the carved wooden arms and looking troubled.

“We don’t,” he said gravely. “It finds us. Such is the nature of Chaos. And The Darkness isn’t a living being. It lives in the shadows, just as Nyx did. It has no corporeal form.”

“So how are we supposed to fight it?” Dyson leaned back, throwing up his hands. He looked from one Fae to the other, shaking his head. “The Light Fae Army can’t fight something they can’t see.”

“No,” Trick agreed, nodding his head. “And neither can the Dark Fae Army. The last time The Darkness infiltrated our community, it almost destroyed it. It lives in the hearts of others and bends them to its will until they annihilate themselves and everyone around them.”

“I just don’t understand how a drug could cause all of this,” Dyson murmured, confused.

The Ash inclined his head, lips tightening. “The drug is merely the method,” he intoned. “A modern delivery for a modern society, created specifically to target Fae. Whoever created this drug knows a good deal about our people and a good deal about our history.”

“And they’re not the only one,” Trick added. “The Fae who have died from this thing gave themselves to The Darkness. They chose to surrender to it.”

“So is this related to some kind of cult activity?” Dyson asked. “One that could cross the line between Dark and Light?”

The Ash considered the question, brows drawn in contemplation. By his side, Trick shifted uncomfortably. Drugs represented escape from their reality; this drug represented a desire to escape everything. And all the work they’d done – the work he had carried out as a King – now seemed to fade into insignificance in light of the pervasive nature of a threat that came from the beginning of their people’s time. Reaching through millennia, it had pulled itself into the present and was squeezing all order and rule from their society with blackened fingers.

“I think,” The Ash said finally, “that Dark and Light ceases to exist when The Darkness takes hold. Nyx was never aligned. She wanted everything and nothing at the same time. Just like Chaos. That’s what made her so dangerous. The Morrigan knows that the Dark are under threat just as we are.”

“And the ancient prophecies?” Trick asked, raising his eyebrows at The Ash. “Does she know about them?”

Now Dyson’s frown deepened and he let out a contemplative sigh. He’d known, since Trick had told him the truth, that it would come to something like this. That sooner or later, the prophecies would come to pass. The modern world could rail against them and perpetuate progress all it wanted but in the Fae world, they were governed by ideals that stretched back much further than most humans could comprehend.

“She must,” The Ash replied thoughtfully. “Otherwise she wouldn’t want the Succubus as much as we do.”

Dyson blanched at the mention of Bo. It was still so hard for him; still so fraught with a mixture of emotion that he couldn’t compartmentalize no matter how much he tried. His stoicism crumbled in light of what he felt for her, it bowed under it almost fit to break completely. And he could tell from the expression that flitted across Trick’s face and lingered sadly in his eyes that the bartender could see precisely what was tugging at his sensibilities.

“Bo doesn’t know,” the detective said to The Ash. “She doesn’t know anything about our history or the prophecies. Don’t you think you should tell her?”

The Ash blinked, just once, his eyes holding depths of emotion that not even the perceptive Dyson could interpret.

“When the time comes,” he rumbled in that low stentorian tone he had, “I will.”

Part 32

The neon lights of the club glistened like earthbound stars in the puddles outside the entrance, advertising a sparkling invitation to the promised pleasures that lay inside. The nightclub was well known in the city, recognized by most members of the community as a place where inhibitions could be cast aside and music would provide a soundtrack to hedonism well into early morning. It was always busy, always a draw for those seeking escape from the humdrum existence that they endured.

Since its opening, the club had been full to maximum every weekend; weekdays only slightly less crowded. People milled around the entrance, forming lines of anticipation along the side of the building until they were judged by large, square-shouldered doormen. Standards were high, and potential clubbers were either deemed acceptable enough to enter, or were turned away to wander disconsolately to other, less auspicious places.

It was the sort of place that thrived in the city, feeding from the insatiable need people had to throw aside their daily lives and indulge in alcohol, drugs, music and carefree abandon. The buzz of activity inside the club was matched only by the pounding throb of music that was constant, one tune blending seamlessly with another into a never-ending rhythm that was the heartbeat of the club, resonating in the bodies that jostled inside it.

Taking a winding path through the morass of people inside the building, Bo briefly closed her eyes and tried to ignore the thud in her head that kept pace with the music. It urged her towards these people, tempted her into the haze of sexual availability that was coming off them in waves. Swallowing, she shook her head and steeled herself, moving forwards again with renewed purpose.

She’d come here on the advice of a contact who had required an almost ridiculous amount of bribery before he was willing to give up any information. Once Bo had made it clear that it was the drug she was investigating, most of her contacts had closed their doors to her enquiries and met her questions with stony-faced silence.

By the time she’d finally got one of them to talk, Bo had begun to believe that it wasn’t just a drug she was looking for; that it wasn’t just drug dealers who exercised a veil of threat over her contacts that had been drawn in front of her. There was something not right about this… about any of it; something that she felt lurch inside her with a precipitous pang of dread. Even when her contact had blurted out the name of the club, his explanation had been vague. He had only said that the large numbers of humans who visited the club provided a rich feeding ground for those Fae wishing to hunt. It was the sort of place where Fae could procure pretty much whatever they wanted, he had told her. The sort of place where their laws became secondary to more primal wants and needs. And if those wants and needs included drugs, then the club would be the perfect place to find them.

His inference had been clear; his refusal to elucidate any further absolute. And Bo’s mind had wandered back to what Trick had told her; the wheels of her brain spinning wildly as she wondered if the drug wasn’t just a way for Fae to ape human behavior. If it was, in fact, linked to something much more pervasive and troublesome to the society on whose edges she lingered. Perhaps, she thought to herself, she hadn’t been so far off the mark in leveling accusations at The Ash about his enforcement of Fae tradition. Because if Fae were flouting laws with drug use, then what else might they be doing that had been criminalized all those centuries ago?

From the moment she’d entered the club under the appreciative gaze of one of the doormen, Bo had felt the pull of delicious abandon at the sight inside; a human smorgasbord laid out before her hungry eyes. It would be so easy to take whatever she wanted. No wonder Fae came here to hunt and feed. No wonder that a drug like the one that had Lauren in its clutches might be available here, too. Because as she surveyed the room with dark, watchful eyes, Bo could sense an underlying frenzy to the movements of the bodies around her; a growing sense of limitless gratification that both unnerved and enticed her.

Halfway across the club, weaving around dancers, Bo tried to ignore the persistent gnaw of hunger in her belly and her brain. She hadn’t fed in a while. Too long, actually. Not since that night when she’d almost drained Lauren. And, since then, the Succubus had fasted, whether through guilt or fear, she wasn’t sure. But her self-imposed starvation was beginning to fray her nerves and weaken her resolve. Being here tonight definitely wasn’t helping, she thought ruefully.

A young, attractive girl stumbled into Bo, bumping up against her and looking into dark eyes with a glassy stare. She let out a giggle, righting herself and pushing at her hair. Bo’s jaw tightened. She could see the wavering heat around the girl’s form, temptation in every curve, dip and swell of the body that hovered in front of her own. The air was full of it. Thick with it.

Clenching her fists down by her sides, Bo nodded abruptly at the girl’s gasped apology and made to move past her. But a hand closed over her upper arm, encased in her leather jacket. The Succubus shuddered, feeling the want in the girl’s fingertips even through the thick material and she paused, glancing up into the flushed features of the human.

“You’re pretty,” the girl said, and let out another giggle that was distinctly provocative.

Bo gave her a tight smile of reply. Under normal circumstances, she wouldn’t turn down a free meal. Especially not in this crowd, where she could feel euphoria building under the myriad of flashing lights and in rhythm with the repetitive bounce of the club’s music. But memories of what had happened last time haunted her with fear and apprehension. She couldn’t quite bring herself to feed from a source she didn’t trust. And these days, Bo didn’t trust anyone.

Not even herself.

“Thanks,” she muttered, wrenching her arm from the girl’s, turning her back so that she didn’t have to see the disappointment on the woman’s face or feel it sink into her gut with aching pangs of hunger.

Pushing past a few dancers, Bo frowned, squinting around the club. Her eyes lighted upon people exchanging drinks, whispering in one another’s ears, engaging in the ritualistic mating behavior that she hadn’t ever really needed to try, let alone perfect. Bodies moved closer to each other, hands reached to push at locks of hair or smooth over the curve of a shoulder, an elbow.

But she saw nothing beyond the swirling mist of heat and pleasure rising from the crowd around her. Nor did she see anyone who appeared remotely suspicious.

She couldn’t see anything. Nothing that might help or give her hope or do anything but compound the smothering disappointment that wrapped itself around her like a dark shroud.

This was pointless. It was all pointless. Every day – every minute that passed by was a ticking time bomb that threatened to destroy all optimism whatsoever. Because if she couldn’t help Lauren, then she risked losing the one thing that made most sense in her life. The mistakes that crawled through her brain returned to haunt her with the regularity of a tolling death knell and she knew that, were she to fail, then the ramifications of it would surely end her, too.

Surrounded by hundreds of people, Bo hugged her arms around her body and realized that she felt utterly, completely alone.

She took a breath, ignoring the available, easy sexuality that warmed her chest. She turned to move back towards the entrance to the club, wondering if the doormen would even talk to her, let alone give her any information. She stepped to one side to avoid two cackling woman and…

She stopped dead.

Blinking, Bo stared at what she’d glimpsed through the sea of bodies, wondering if her fetid brain was forcing her to hallucinate. As the crowd moved together and then parted, her jaw hung open in horror and surprise. No. She wasn’t mistaken.

But it was the last thing she’d expected to see in a place like this.

Taking a few tentative steps forwards, pushing people out of her way, Bo stopped again and felt her breath catch in her throat.

A willowy figure was leaning back against a tall, broad-shouldered male whose hands were pressed against her torso. A tight white tank-top stretched over musculature that Bo had traced with her fingers, with her tongue. It was unabashedly sensual, blatantly sexual. And as blonde hair fell over naked shoulders, Bo swallowed over the unreasonably powerful surge of jealousy in her chest, obliterating hunger in a tidal wave of hurt.

Lauren’s eyes were closed, head against the shoulder behind it, a self-satisfied smirk across her lips. The man leaned down to whisper something in her ear and she let out a laugh, mouth open and body swaying against his. The man’s hands pressed against her again, his fingers grasping with intent.

Bo felt the snarl form on her mouth before it stretched her lips, before anger propelled her forwards. She was within a few feet of the couple when Lauren opened her eyes and looked directly at her.

Again, Bo stopped. Time slowed. It seemed as though the club faded into a buzzing nothingness around them as Lauren’s eyes met her own. For a second, brown pools of light recognized Bo, widening slightly as the Succubus took first one step forwards, then another.

As sound and heat rushed back in to envelop them in its swell, Lauren’s gaze darkened, mouth turning upwards in a sly grin. Her hands drifted down to cover the ones over her torso, fingers curling over fingers, nails scraping over roughened skin. The doctor pushed herself backwards against the man behind her, never taking her eyes off Bo.

Bo felt the hurt as though she’d been punched in the stomach; the pain palpable, distorting her features and almost doubling her over.

She approached Lauren and the guy, glowering at them both. The man quirked an eyebrow as she drew closer, his gaze drifting lasciviously up and down he body.

“Wanna dance?” he grinned.

Bo resisted the urge to tear Lauren from his grasp and smash his face in. But only just.

Lauren rolled her eyes and plucked the man’s hands from her body, extricating herself from his clutches and swaggering towards Bo. The gaze she directed towards the Succubus was hot: burning amber that Bo could almost feel on her skin. As it elicited a shiver of want and distaste, Bo blanched and faltered. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. It wasn’t meant to be like this at all. Part of what Bo loved so much about Lauren was her quiet reserve, her considered nature and the fact that Lauren simply wasn’t like other women at all. It was what made the unrestrained passion between them so much more of a rare beauty.

But the woman who stood in front of Bo was wanton, all reserve absent; a brazen-faced changeling. Not her Lauren. Not Lauren at all. The air between them crackled with an expectant, apprehensive energy that troubled and excited the Succubus all at the same time, confusing her senses and clouding her mind.

“Lauren?” Bo managed to push out from between numbed lips.

The doctor reached for her, fingers closing around Bo’s wrist: cool, firm, confident. Bo shivered again as the doctor tugged her closer and into the shimmering brume of lust that fogged Bo’s urge to resist.

“I might have known you’d come here,” Lauren murmured, brushing her lips against Bo’s ear. “Hungry, are you?”

Leaning back, Lauren let out a hum of laughter and stroked the pad of her thumb over the inside of Bo’s wrist where blood rushed, thick like mercury through the Succubus’ veins.

Snatching her hand away, Bo glowered at the doctor and shook her head. “I’m not here for that,” she growled. “I’m trying to find out more about this drug and follow up some leads and… ” Her head jerked back on her neck as she looked askance at Lauren. “And what the hell are you doing here?” This really wasn’t Lauren’s thing. Ever. In fact, Bo remembered joking once that when it came down to spending time with humans or her microscope, Lauren would choose science every single time.

Bo longed for those days with a sudden lurch of her gut. She was terrified that she’d never see them again now. Not after what she’d given to Lauren. Not after what she’d taken, too. Of all the things she’d broken in her life, this was one that she feared might be irreparable.

Shrugging, Lauren eyed the Succubus. “I’m having fun,” she said nonchalantly. “What does it look like?”

“It looks like you’re making a fool out of me.” Bo glared at the man behind Lauren and he nodded his head towards, daring to wink with an insouciant, self-assured manner that incensed her.

Lauren laughed, eyes gleaming with relish as they watched Bo closely. She could see that the Succubus was hurt; could understand it, even. But it only made her bolder, more impulsive, heartbeat quickening in glee. Sliding her hands over Bo’s cheeks, Lauren’s fingertips pushed into tresses of black hair, curving around the other woman’s scalp.

Bo swallowed as Lauren’s fingers moved against her, saw the tiny beads of perspiration on the doctor’s brow and could taste the sharp tang of alcohol on the other woman’s breath. But it was Lauren’s eyes that consumed her with a yawning blackness that seemed to reach into her very soul. Almost every trace of the woman she loved appeared to have dissipated, replaced by an inky depth that gave rise to panic, sadness, regret.

Those eyes traced sticky lines of appraisal and lust over Bo’s face, accompanied by a sweet smile. But it was cruel around the edges; the bitter aftershock of malicious intent seeping into Bo’s senses with an ache that settled in her chest and refused to go away.

“Are you jealous?” Lauren finally said in a sing-song voice that was smug and satisfied. She dragged a thumb along Bo’s cheek. “Don’t you think that’s kind of ironic, Bo?” The doctor’s eyebrows lifted, amused.

Even in the midst of her anger; even as she struggled to quell it, Bo felt herself respond to Lauren. To the body pressed against her own; to the touch on her skin; to the voice that, even now, made her yearn for Lauren above all others. It was an instinctive response that had been hewn from the raw depths of the emotion they had for one another. And it made her sick to her stomach as she understood that she’d never really, truly be able to make it stop.

“He’s just a guy,” Lauren leaned forwards and spoke into Bo’s ear as the music pulsed around them, movements in the club staccato underneath the flashing lights overhead. For a few moments, Lauren’s features appeared shocking white in the brightness before they were cloaked in the dark that quickly followed each flash.

Sliding her hands from Bo’s face, Lauren slipped her arms around the Succubus’ waist, swaying from side to side and coaxing Bo into a reluctant pace against her. “Isn’t that what you do? Choose nameless, meaningless people to have fun with?”

“That’s different,” Bo snapped.

But Lauren was undeterred, offering a doubtful smile towards the other woman, fingers plucking underneath Bo’s jacket to meet an exposed hipbone. “Is it?” she asked. “They don’t seem to matter when you’re crawling into my bed and crying over how much you want me. Poor Bo.” Lauren smirked again and rolled her eyes. “Poor, tragic little Succubus. And all you ever want is me.”

Bo gasped. It was harsh. Hurtful. And true. Whether she admitted it or not, she always wanted Lauren the most; more than she’d ever wanted anything else – anyone else. And she knew that she would want her in whatever incarnation she appeared; however dangerous it might be. All the people who had been victims to her Fae powers welcomed her to their ranks as Lauren’s lips nibbled a trail along Bo’s jawline and the Succubus felt herself give in to the unerring desire within. It trampled over caution, urged her to lift her mouth to the other woman’s and relinquish doubtful restraint.

In the seconds before they kissed, it seemed perfect. All Bo wanted was to feel Lauren’s mouth on hers, to lose herself in the sexual contact that had always underpinned their love for one another. It was, after all, how she survived.

But not like this.

Bo jerked backwards, sending a sheen of amused curiosity into Lauren’s eyes. Grasping Lauren’s wrists, Bo glanced over the doctor’s shoulder at the man who was viewing their proximity with lecherous interest. She glowered at him, feeling jealousy surge through her again – an uncommon flood of feeling that beckoned rage in its wake. But she was angry more at herself than at him. She’d rationalized her own needs as much as she was able, conscious of Lauren’s reaction to them but never quite fully understanding it.

Not until now. Until a possessive anger and frustration bit at her brain, speeding through her veins with an icy chill. It was all she could do

to keep from ripping him apart. All she could do from tearing Lauren to shreds, too.

“We’re leaving,” Bo snarled, pulling at Lauren’s arm. She glared at the man, her eyes burning brightly enough so that he took a couple of paces backwards, fear replacing the smile on his mouth and shaping it into an alarmed, frightened grimace.

Bo stalked away through the club, bumping against dancing bodies and offering no apologies this time. She held Lauren’s hand tightly in her own so that the doctor was dragged along behind her and couldn’t bear to look back; could barely stand to see the creature that looked like Lauren, that sounded like Lauren, but whom she didn’t recognize at all.

It was only when they got outside that she let go, throwing the doctor’s hand from her own and pacing backwards and forwards in the puddles that splashed beneath her booted feet. Bo sucked in huge lungfuls of chilled night air, gusting them back out again in plumes of white mist.

She heard Lauren move behind her, the doctor’s feet scuffling on the wet ground. But Bo didn’t turn around, not yet. Not until she could look at Lauren without hating what she saw.

“I’m cold.”

Bo stopped walking.

They were a little distance from the club now, the music fading to a dull thud: a distant, muffled heartbeat whose frenetic pace was silently matched by the pounding against Bo’s ribcage. She clenched her hands into fists. Unclenched them. Tried to stop from grinding her teeth together.

Now she turned, giving herself the painful luxury of looking at the doctor, who was hugging her arms around her torso, hair covering her naked shoulders.

“Yeah,” Bo let out a bitter laugh. “That’s one way of putting it.”

Lauren let out a lazy laugh and rubbed her palms over her biceps. A breeze fluttered her hair for a moment and she shivered, despite the heat that still rose from her skin and shimmered in Bo’s gaze.

“You really don’t have the right or the moral high ground here,” Lauren said. Her voice was sharp, cutting into Bo’s conscience and bringing a faint moue of discontent to the Succubus’ mouth. The doctor smiled. She’d always thought her skill lay in the sharp edges of her tools. Who knew that her words could be just as efficient, too?

“All those times you came to me with the taste of other people on your mouth, Bo. All those times you expected me not to care.”

“I never expected that!” Bo was horrified. “Jesus, Lauren, it hurt me too!”

Lauren rounded on Bo, her gaze shadowed and dark in the dim streetlights. “Hurt you?” she snorted, her features drawn into hard lines of rebuke. “Good god, Bo. It’s always all about you, isn’t it? So caught up in your own sense of pain,” she lifted her fingers and jabbed them into air quotes, “that nobody else’s feelings matter at all.”

“Yeah,” Bo’s head jerked back on her neck and she stared at Lauren, confounded. “So I guess you practically fucking that guy on the dancefloor was what… payback?”

Lauren laughed, throwing her head back, arms still wrapped around her body. “No,” she shook her head. “It was fun, Bo.”

She pursed her lips, seeing with a thrill of cruel pleasure the insult painted in broad strokes over Bo’s face.

“Well,” Lauren continued with a little shrug, “it was until you arrived and broke up the party.”

“I’m not the enemy, Lauren.” Bo’s voice was cracked, as broken as she felt inside. But she took a step towards the doctor anyway, trying to close the distance between them. “And you’re not yourself. This thing… look, if I could take it away from you – “

“But you haven’t even tried.” Lauren’s accusatory tone and narrowed gaze cut Bo short. The doctor had said a lot of things under the influence of the drug but this… well, Bo reasoned, this at least was the truth.

A cold silence fell between them. Bo remembered that Lauren had once admitted to selfishness. But in the cold and damp night around them, the stark reality was that it was Bo who was selfish. Her Fae nature was selfish. All she did was take, no matter how much she tried to subdue the urge to do so. It was written in her DNA, formed in the primal matter of the creature that she was born to be.

And Lauren, even in her changed state, knew it.

“Because when it comes down to it, Bo,” Lauren’s voice was flat, emotionless. “You don’t think it’s worth it to try. You don’t think I’m worth it. So I’m just accepting this… this thing,” she gestured into the space between them with a single finger, “for what it is. And what it isn’t.”

“I love you,” Bo said firmly, moving towards the doctor. But Lauren rolled her eyes and let out a snort of laughter.

“Love,” she said with a curl of her lip. “You’re a Succubus. You don’t know anything about love. What you do… who you are… it’s a pretense of love. It’s not real.”

“It is!” Bo reached out now, grasping Lauren’s arms at the elbow, her fingers making indentations in the flesh. “And I know that you know that, Lauren. The drug… that’s what’s making you feel this way. Not us. Not me.”

But her voice wavered with doubt. And Lauren heard it, a whisper of a smile on her lips as she straightened and stood tall.

“The drug,” Lauren stated slowly, “has opened my eyes, Bo. Made me see you for what you really are. All of you.” She was resolute, jaw steely, firm. Bo had never seen her look more beautiful or more terrifying. The lines of Lauren’s face were drawn into a hard-edged visage; a brittle mask replacing everything warm and soft about the woman.

But around it all, there was still that glimmering aura of want. It shone in Bo’s eyes, undulating around Lauren’s form and fooling the Succubus into thinking that the woman who stood before her now was the same person she had fallen in love with.

Desperation replaced fear. Sorrow flourished in light of the things that the Succubus wanted. Needed. Felt slipping away from her now more than ever.

“I know that somewhere, deep down, you love me,” Bo hissed, gritting her teeth as Lauren let out a bored sigh and shook her head. “This thing, Lauren, it’s making you say things that aren’t true. I love you. I don’t want to hurt you… how could I ever want that?”

She even went so far as to shake the doctor, held tightly in her strong grasp, unable to run away from the burning gaze directed into brown eyes. But Lauren’s eyes met hers in tired dismissal and a blurred acknowledgement that flooded uncertainty into Bo’s chest. Lauren’s love had always been the one thing – sometimes the only thing – that she could rely on. It had offered her sanctuary, succor; it had been the safe haven to which she had run when all else seemed lost.

But Bo couldn’t see that haven tonight. Not in the emptiness that gazed at her, into her.

“I love you,” she repeated, as though the telling of it would make it a truth she could depend on. “And I know you love me, too. You do, Lauren. I know it.” Her voice cracked again and she knew, shamefully, that she was begging for confirmation. A flush burned crimson on her throat and crept up her cheeks as Lauren looked down at the ground, lips tightening in contemplation and a taut line of anger.

Bo let go of the doctor. Stepped back. Allowed silence to bleed into the air between them.

Lauren had always felt adrift when it came to her feelings for Bo. Never knowing quite which way to move lest she was swept away completely. But now, for the first time, she felt in control. For the first time, she was angry and resentful and suspicious of the Succubus. It was a tangible emotion that she could cling to and allow it to possess her. It was a part of her now: that rage that she’d resisted for so long. It coursed through her body, changing her mind and her heart so often that all she wanted was an end to it. A final act to bring down the curtain on this charade that she and Bo had taken part in.

So as she lifted her head and looked at Bo, Lauren allowed the ire to take over. It was almost a relief to allow it to do so.

“You think that loving one another is enough, don’t you?” she said, her voice a low, flat tone. “You think that it’s enough for me.” She jabbed a thumb towards her chest and let out an aggrieved blurt of laughter.

“How stupid do you think I am, Bo?” She heard the derision in her own voice and it felt good. It felt right. “I knew loving you was a mistake but I did it anyway. And now I hate the way I feel. I hate the way you make me feel.”

Throwing out a hand towards the Succubus, Lauren turned and began pacing, agitation quickening her gait. She had suppressed this for so long that now it was bubbling up into her throat it was almost surprising that she’d never given vent to it before. It was a futile emotion that rampaged through her, making senseless incoherence of all the things she’d kept so firmly in place. It was chaotic, painful and glorious. The beginning of her demise and the end of everything else.

“I had a life before you, Bo,” Lauren spat, pacing in front of the Succubus’ watchful, fearful gaze. “I had my work and my place and things I could count on.”

“You can count on me!” Bo insisted.

“No,” Lauren stopped for a moment and held up her hand, glaring at the Succubus. “No, I can’t. I can’t depend on you for anything because ever since you came into my life I haven’t been able to trust a single thing. Not my work, not my safety, not even my own damn feelings!”

Voice rising, Lauren advanced on Bo, moving close enough so that she could discern her own reflection in the Succubus’ widening eyes.

“I don’t even know who I am anymore because of you, Bo,” she growled, thrusting her face close to the other woman’s. “You’ve turned everything upside down so I can’t think clearly about anything!” Lauren’s palm slapped against the side of her head and Bo jerked back, alarmed.

“You think you’re a force for good in this world, but you’re not,” Lauren said, her voice scornful, hurtful. She spun around and walked away from Bo a few paces before turning, her face contorted in hatred and pain. “You destroy everything you touch. You take all the good out of everyone – you’ve taken it all out of me and left me like this… ”

Thumping a fist against her chest, Lauren shook her head, angry tears making hot tracks down her cheeks. She swallowed, regaining what tiny control she had left and pressed her lips together for a moment, staring at the Succubus.

“The way I am, Bo, it’s because of you. Because of what you did to me.” Fear, acceptance and submission roiled in her head and body with deadly force. And as the rush of emotion trembled at her legs, Lauren pitched forwards unsteadily.

“Don’t you dare think that love is enough,” she hissed, head swimming with all that was unsaid; all that might never be told. “Don’t you dare, Bo. You killed any part of me that could ever believe in something that naïve. Who I am now?” She swept a hand down the length of her body and let out a bitter laugh.

“I’m what you made me. “

Moving closer to Bo, Lauren could see her words etching pain across the Succubus’ face; could acknowledge with strange delight the hurt that would stay in dark eyes and linger around that beautiful mouth that she longed for. But she couldn’t stop. Wouldn’t stop. All restraint was gone.

“Loving you,” she said in a low tone, “has ruined me.”

She let out a strangled moan as pain suddenly rocketed through her body, exploding lights behind her eyes and freezing her where she stood. She saw Bo, eyes glistening with unshed tears; she saw the glimmer of lights blurring in her line of vision; she saw herself – pathetic and bowed, broken and lost.

And then everything went black.

Part 33

Lauren opened her eyes and squinted under the bright lights directly above her. Her lips were dry. The tip of her tongue snaked out over them; it felt odd in her mouth, numbed, as though it didn’t belong to her. She blinked against the harsh glare of the lights again and frowned.

She was in the lab.

Raising an arm, she found its movement restricted. Prohibited. And although her head was aching fit to explode, she lifted it from the gurney underneath her and gazed down the length of her arm. Her wrists were in restraints. Her ankles, too.

Panic laced a flush of fear around the pain that echoed dully around her body and she struggled upwards, leaning on her elbows and looking around with wide, confused eyes.

One of her nurses – the doe-eyed, timid girl that she’d previously shouted at – was scribbling on a chart at the foot of the bed. She glanced upwards and briefly met Lauren’s eyes before her gaze darted away and she replaced the chart in its holder. Scurrying across the lab, the nurse joined a couple of her peers who were lingering around the entrance, whispering among themselves before exiting.

They were afraid to be around her now. Lauren understood the realization almost in the same moment she had it.

“She’s awake.”

A voice to her left jerked her head around and she saw Bo, chewing at her thumbnail and clutching one arm around her torso. Dyson stood a few paces behind her, grave and pensive. But it was Sagi who stood tall beside them, eyeing her with open interest and moving forwards.

Lauren licked at her lips again and blinked. “What are these for?” She lifted her wrists, banded by padded leather straps, then let them fall back onto the gurney with a thud.

Sagi’s gaze flickered over her to the other side of the bed. Following it, Lauren saw The Ash, staring at her. He looked troubled, although his features were smooth, unlined. But she knew him well enough to see the consternation in his eyes, no matter how much he was trying to hide it. She even felt a faint pang of guilt that she’d put it there. But it was quickly engulfed by pain and anger, pushed back into the part of her that was now redundant.

The Ash joined his hands behind his back and lifted his chin, taking a short breath. “They’re for your own protection,” he said quietly.

“Protection?” Lauren frowned. “From what?”

“Yourself.” Sagi spoke, nostrils flaring. Lauren blinked up at him, seeing a bandage on his throat and feeling, through the haze, a vague sense of guilt.

“You attacked a Fae,” The Ash intoned, bringing Lauren’s wide-eyed gaze back to rest on his features. He avoided her eyes.

“I attacked… ” Lauren echoed, her voice trailing into disbelief. And then she remembered. The knife. The blood on its blade. The way that Sagi had goaded her into submitting to the darkness inside. How he had relished seeing it.

Before she could stop it, a bitter laugh escaped her lips and she leaned her head back on the bed. She could deny it, but to do so would be a futile attempt at exoneration. Nobody would believe a human’s word over a Fae; not even hers. Besides, she reasoned silently, turning her head and looking at Sagi, she had attacked him. She had held a scalpel to his throat.

And she’d enjoyed it.

The mere thought of it sickened as much as it thrilled her. Letting out a sigh, she struggled up onto her elbows again and looked past Sagi to where Bo stood, a dark look across her beautiful features.

“Bo,” Lauren said. “Come on, you’ll back me up. I haven’t been myself lately. Sagi goaded me into it. You know what he’s like, right?”

Bo chewed at her lower lip and her gaze moved to alight on The Ash for a brief moment. Lauren felt panic flare in her chest.

“Don’t look at him,” she said quickly. “Look at me, Bo. You know me. I wouldn’t hurt anyone!” Her voice rose into a plaintive tone and she grimaced, whether at her own sense of growing apprehension or the way that Bo seemed not to hear it, she wasn’t sure.

“But you did,” The Ash’s voice brought Lauren’s attention back to him and she couldn’t help the swell of anger in her throat. Even if he was right; even if he was the leader of the community she’d served for so many years, she hated his pompous superiority. Her lip curled as she stared at him. Loyalty probably didn’t much matter now, not when she was tied to the bed and viewed as some renegade traitor.

“He’s a lying, cheating bastard,” Lauren said in a low voice. “And he’s Dark Fae.” She glanced at Sagi before turning back to The Ash and letting out a huff of sardonic dismissal. “I should have just done everyone a favor and pushed the knife in all the way.”

She heard Bo’s gasp, hissing in the quiet of the lab and knew that, in former days, she might have exercised caution. But former days were gone now. All Lauren had was this moment; tumbling towards her fate as she recognized that her actions, words, even her thoughts signified the beginning of the end.

It should have terrified her. But all she felt was gratitude as she slid towards release. Because that, at least, would empty her head of the thoughts that tormented her so; that were as broken and ripped apart as she herself felt. She told herself that it didn’t matter anymore anyway. She couldn’t live like this.

“How the hell did I get here?” she barked, aware that her days of demanding answers were over. But she glared at Bo anyway, noticing how the Succubus glanced at The Ash again before stepping forwards.

“You collapsed, Lauren,” Bo said quietly. “Outside the nightclub.” Her features were drawn, her complexion pale.

Flashes of their argument ripped through Lauren’s head, accompanied by a searing pain. Her body spasmed as she recalled what she’d said; what she’d felt. Closing her eyes, her head thudded down onto the pillow underneath it, back arching up into the hurt that rocketed through her limbs. She let out a cry that echoed in the silence of the lab despite her efforts to rein it in. But the time for holding back was long gone and even as she bit her lip, an anguished moan escaping her throat, Lauren succumbed to her fate.

“Lauren.” A voice at her elbow made her open her eyes. Bo was leaning over her, concern coloring dark shades in wide eyes. “Lauren?”

A hand crept over the doctor’s and squeezed gently. Lifting her head once more, Lauren’s jaw clenched at the sight. Usually she was able to glean some comfort from Bo’s touch, but there was no solace in it now; no peace to be found in the simple contact. There was only a crushing sensation in her chest, wringing a ragged breath from her lips.

“Seriously,” Bo was saying to The Ash, her voice terse. “Do you have to tie her down like some animal? She’s in pain! Can’t you see that?”

The Ash could indeed see that Lauren was hurting. He chose to avoid looking down at his doctor. Or, he reasoned silently, the person who used to be his doctor. The human lying on the gurney wasn’t the woman he had grown to trust, in spite of the misgivings of his Elders. Fae had a natural, inbred suspicion of humans and he had been no different. At first.

It troubled him greatly that his best and, he admitted, favorite doctor was now a creature he barely recognized. So he turned his gaze to the Succubus instead and fixed her with a steely expression on his face. It was, after all, his vocation to provide stoic leadership. His calling, in fact.

“Lauren has been consumed by The Darkness,” he said, repeating the explanation he’d given Bo when she’d brought Lauren in. She had been wild-eyed and panicked, clutching the doctor in her arms and calling for help as soon as she’d reached the labs.

“Then why aren’t you doing something about it?” Bo snarled. She stretched out a hand, almost touching Lauren’s cheek before pulling it back. Fear tempered her movement now. It fluttered in her chest as she remembered the things Lauren had told her; how vehemently the doctor seemed to believe them.

As she bunched her hand into a fist and pressed it to her own chest, Bo knew that she believed them too. She always had.

“If he has to be here,” she gestured with her head towards Sagi, “then why hasn’t he found a cure by now?”

“It’s a delicate process,” Sagi said to The Ash, ignoring the heated glare from the Succubus’ eyes. “Besides, she’s human. What does it matter if she dies?”

It was only Dyson’s body that prevented Bo’s clawed fingers from reaching him. And even as the Succubus was held back by the large detective, it was obvious from the strain on Dyson’s face that Bo’s strength was fueled and amplified by anger. Sagi smiled coldly and watched as she finally stopped struggling in the cop’s grasp, as her cry of rage trailed away to a whimper and she leaned against the large frame of the shape shifter. Futility, it seemed, was as inevitable an infection as The Darkness itself.

Sagi’s smile increased a fraction more.

“Lauren may be human,” The Ash glanced down at his doctor then back up at the Dark Fae across the bed. “But she is useful, as I’m sure you are aware.”

The tone of his voice made Sagi shift uncomfortably and he bowed his head in obsequious acceptance. They might be on opposing sides, but The Ash was still imbued with all the powers of the Light. For now, anyway.

“I understand,” he said. “But this is unlike anything we’ve ever encountered. The Darkness is… ” He licked his lips and inclined his head, hiding his gaze from those around him. “Well, it’s so ancient that it might simply be beyond modern medicine.”

“That’s not strictly true now, is it?”

The Morrigan, flanked by two suited Dark Fae, strode into the lab with a purposeful gait. All heads turned to gaze at her as she approached Sagi, holding out a leather-bound notebook, the cover cracked and worn. She brandished it like some sort of weapon before turning to The Ash and giving him a hard stare. But her expression was troubled; her features drawn in lines of anxiety and, The Ash noticed with some interest, doubt.

“Forgive the little intrusion on your… ” she glanced down at Lauren on the gurney and the corner of her mouth quirked upwards in a faint smile, “… fun and games.”

“What do you want?” The Ash was in no playful mood and bristled, shoulders thrown back, standing erect.

The Morrigan’s smile disappeared and she eyed the Light Fae with cold, unforgiving eyes. “I came here in the spirit of fraternity,” she drawled. “Or whatever ridiculous notion you have about us working together. It’s really quite interesting what you can find if you look hard enough.” She held out the notebook across the bed and shook it a couple of times before The Ash reached over and finally took it from her fingers.

“Isn’t that right, Sagi?” The Morrigan turned and eyed her doctor with some interest.

He opened his mouth to speak, but she waved her hand dismissively and shook her head. “Don’t even bother trying to come up with some story to placate me,” she said in a bored tone. “I knew you were devious. Reckless, even, but I never expected this.”

“What is it?” Dyson’s gruff voice lifted The Ash’s head from where it had been bent over the notebook as he rifled through the pages. Beside him, Bo leaned forwards, peering first at The Ash and then at The Morrigan with shaded, suspicious eyes.

“It’s an account of The Darkness,” The Ash began ponderously, his attention taken by the notebook.

“Skip to the end,” The Morrigan suggested. “That’s when it gets really gripping. Isn’t it?” Again she looked at her doctor who had the good sense to remain silent, avoiding her inquisitive gaze.

Lauren groaned loudly and Bo turned, leaning back down over the doctor. As the woman’s eyes opened, Bo smiled anxiously. From somewhere in the depths of the blackness that scurried through Lauren’s gaze, recognition glimmered up at the Succubus.

“It hurts,” Lauren whispered.

“I know,” Bo soothed, lacing her fingers through Lauren’s and nodding. “I know.”

She would have said more, would have tried to assuage the fear that she felt coming off the other woman in uneven waves of panic, but Lauren wasn’t listening any more. Recognition disappeared, replaced by a shining onyx that seemed to obliterate everything and gripped the doctor’s body in a paroxysm of pain once more.

Standing up and spinning around on her heel, Bo turned to The Morrigan with a grim-faced expression of angry determination.

“That book had better have a cure in it,” she said forcefully. “Or you’re just wasting time she doesn’t have.”

“Such passion,” The Morrigan sneered. “And over a human. How delightfully depraved of you.”

She let out a laugh as Bo darted forwards, Dyson’s arm reaching out across her chest once more. Shaking her head, The Morrigan looked over at The Ash again, all assumed humor sliding from her face.

“Apparently, my dear doctor here knows more than he’s telling,” she said, voice laced with a hard, thin tone. “He always has. The research he stole from your human was added to the information in that book. Information he didn’t share with me.”

Now she turned to Sagi again. Betrayal rested uncomfortably on her shoulders. From the moment one of her trusted advisors had brought her the notebook, The Morrigan had felt the pang of disappointment as keenly as if Sagi had thrust a knife into her chest. She had raged through his labs, destroying anything and everything she could lay her hands on. But it hadn’t quite assuaged the bitter taste of his traitorous acts, nor had it served to explain them.

As Sagi’s head lifted and his unearthly blue gaze met her own, The Morrigan saw no fear, no regret. Nothing but the intensity of a fervent belief that he had hidden from her for so long; from them all until now.

Laughter sounded from the bed: a long, drawn-out gasping sound that fell from Lauren’s lips as she raised her head and looked at the Dark Fae physician. All eyes on her, she struggled up onto her elbows once more and fixed Sagi with a rictus grin.

“You used my research to make this thing?” It wasn’t so much a question, but more a confirmation of the suspicions flying around the air of the lab. Throwing her head back, Lauren let out another laugh and shook her head.

“You took my life’s work and perverted it.” Her voice rasped over acknowledgement and she sucked in a loud breath as pain spread through her chest. “And for what? To kill me? To kill Fae?”

“To glorify Her Holy Name.” Sagi spoke for the first time and his voice was hushed with reverence. His gaze burned as he looked at the people around him; at his mistress and her counterpart, at his compatriots and his enemies. They were all one and the same now: lesser beings who knew nothing of a truer devotion to which he had given everything. For which he would sacrifice anything to bring that devotion to fruition.

He stepped closer to The Morrigan and found himself instantly in the strong grip of the two Dark Fae standing near her. They moved around him, holding him in place, their strong fingers tensing around his upper arms with an unveiled threat in their touch. But, rather than deterring Sagi, it only increased his fervency and he smiled resolutely, shaking his head.

“There are more of us than you can ever contemplate,” he hissed, his words jerking The Morrigan’s head back on her neck and widening The Ash’s eyes. “More of us hiding than you can ever hope to uncover. We bring Her glory and redemption in the purity of Chaos.”

His bright blue eyes gazed at each of the group, resting briefly on each face and registering their alarm, hatred and distant fear with alacrity.

“Those who died gave their lives to bring Her into this world,” he said, each word falling almost delicately from his lips in a sonorous prayer. “And there will be more. You should feel honored to give witness to Her rise.” He lifted his chin and gazed down at them, nostrils flaring.

The Morrigan stepped forwards, putting her face close to Sagi’s and staring into his eyes, searching for comprehension and finding none. A tiny frown burrowed its way between her eyes and she heard his words – his prediction of all that terrified her – resound in her head. He spoke of mutiny, of rebellion, of all the things that The Morrigan and The Ash abhorred. Leadership was gained through strength, through sacrifice and through the bloodlust of battle.

But this was none of those things. This was pervasive; an undercurrent lava-flow of darkness that moved the very ground on which she had built her empire.

That it had been quickened by one of her own horrified her.

It was rage that burned in two bright spots high up on her cheeks as she drew a considered breath.

“You have enjoyed privilege,” she told him. “You’ve been permitted to live however you want, do whatever you want as a trusted member of my community. Wasn’t that enough for you?”

Sagi blinked at her, just once. He could see the hurt, underneath everything else. He had served her well through the years. And she had served him, too. Their mutually beneficial relationship had been founded in a lust for power over the Dark; The Morrigan had gained much from him. He knew his worth to her as a doctor, but to see the surprise in her eyes now, Sagi was assured of his value as more than that.

But her offense, like everything else, was immaterial. Because now he served a greater cause. And the Dark – The Morrigan - like all other Fae, became a means to an end, not the end itself.

“No,” he told her. “It’s not.”

If The Morrigan had more to say on the matter, she wasn’t about to give vent to it now, in Light Fae territory.

“Take him away.” She jerked her head to the two guards she’d brought with her.

“Wait!” Bo stepped in front of them and held up her hand. “You can’t just take him away!” She looked over towards The Ash for help, eyes wide and panicked. “He made this thing… he must know how it works. What about Lauren?”

The Morrigan tilted her head to one side, regaining some of the bravado that she wore as often as she did her designer clothes.

“What about her?” she asked with a careless shrug. “She’s a human, dear. Besides,” she added with a wicked smirk, “if it hadn’t been this then it would have been something else. You do have a tendency to bring all sorts of merry hell down on those you care about, don’t you?”

“But the notebook… ” Bo gestured wildly towards The Ash, who held the book in one hand. “You said it had details in it – “

“Of the manufacture of the drug, yes,” The Morrigan nodded. “But even a doctor as skilled as Sagi can’t cure Chaos. Nature will out, after all.”

Even as Bo’s eyes fled towards The Ash’s stern expression, she felt hope fading from her chest. He did no more than incline his head in agreement with The Morrigan. She turned to Dyson, her eyes pleading with him to intervene, but he avoided her gaze and looked down at his feet, shaking his head imperceptibly.

Bo felt all hope desert her. And desperation took hold, clenching inside her chest with cold fingers of futility. Lauren was muttering now, her lips moving over words that the Succubus couldn’t specify or hear with any clarity. Her body, writhing on the gurney, became the home of her own destruction and Bo couldn’t bear to watch any more.

The Morrigan, face set in grim lines of acceptance, gestured to her henchmen and they dragged Sagi from the lab. The Dark Fae doctor hung in their arms, a beatific smile plastered across his mouth. Just as The Morrigan had acknowledged his betrayal, he had understood his fate. But it was one to which he careered with madness and absolution, his destiny completed.

“No,” Bo said as the Dark Fae left. She lifted a finger and pointed at The Ash. “No,” she said again, her voice a guttural outburst in the silence of the room.

The Ash took a breath, but barely had the opportunity to form words as Bo rounded the corner of the gurney and stepped into his space. She lifted her chin and glared up at him, eyes gimlet pools of tear-stained black.

“Do something,” she demanded. “Help her.”

The leader of the Light Fae glanced down at his doctor, incoherent and wracked with pain. If he felt sorrow or pity, it didn’t show on his face. He merely blinked and looked back at Bo, her body shoved up close to his with menacing proximity.

“Fae law tells us that – “

“I don’t give a damn about your Fae law!” Bo spat. “She’s done whatever you wanted, whenever you wanted. She’s put herself on the line for you over and over and this is how you repay her? You just let her die?”

She let out a snort of mirthless laughter and shook her head. Biting at her lower lip, she swallowed over the rage and hurt in her throat before meeting The Ash’s eyes. She would accept nothing other than cooperation. Even if Lauren had hurt her, even if the stench of betrayal and resentment hung between them, the woman on the gurney was the woman she loved. The woman she chose. And choice, such a rarity in her life, was all the more precious to her now.

“Do something,” she repeated in a low, threatening tone. “Or I will tear this place, and you, apart.”

The Ash’s lip curled. He didn’t like threats. He didn’t tolerate them. But the Succubus was unique, even if she didn’t know it. And duty, to him, was a more lofty goal than Bo’s. Love was fleeting, insubstantial. The Light was eternal.

“There might be a way… ” he began, and then paused, eyes narrowing. Revealing his plans now would be foolish; the Succubus needed more time and the Light needed her to join them willingly. But, his hand forced, he knew that time was not on their side.

And neither was the Succubus. Yet.

“Then what are you waiting for?” Bo cried, reaching out and grabbing his arm. Behind her, Dyson lurched forwards, but she had let go and wrapped her arms around her torso before he could get to her. He paused by the side of the bed, looking down at Lauren. Her eyes were open, startled and glassy.

“Don’t do it,” she said. And even though her voice was weakened by the sheer effort of forcing it out, The Ash heard her. He stepped around Bo, moved closer to the bed and looked down at the woman he had nurtured and placed under his care.

“Please,” she begged him. “Don’t do it.”

The Ash blinked, impassive. “The time for choice is long past,” he said, his voice unusually gentle.

“And my choice?” Lauren asked, rising from the gurney a little before pain tugged her back down against its surface. “What about me?”

“You placed your trust in me once before, Lauren,” The Ash told her benevolently. “Now it is time to do it again.”

She might have protested. She might have wanted to argue the point with him, as she had done so many times over so many things. But as a fresh wave of pain crashed over her body, it was all she could do to keep from crying out. Biting down so hard on her lip that she tasted blood in her mouth, Lauren felt another surge of sticky darkness, covering her senses like tar, pulling her into the pitch of oblivion.

The Ash turned his back on her, walking over to one of the inspection tables in the lab and reaching for a tray of surgical tools. His fingers wandered over several of them before stopping, curling around the blunt handle of a scalpel and lifting it from the tray.

Brandishing it like a weapon, The Ash spun around, his features grave. It was only when he returned to the gurney that Bo moved, halting him with a hand in the air, palm out.

“Tell me what you’re going to do,” she demanded in a low, guttural tone. “Because if you cut her open – “

“He’s going to perform a ritual.” Dyson’s voice halted her own and she turned to the detective, blinking up at him. He nodded slowly and let out a long breath. “He’s going to try and save her, Bo. The only way he can.”

“What does that even mean?” she gasped, throwing her hands up in the air.

“The Ash is the source of light and life for our people,” Dyson told her. “He’s not just a leader, Bo. He’s the life’s blood that keeps our kind together.”

“Human life is fleeting,” The Ash’s voice boomed from behind Bo and she spun around to stare at him. “Humans were created to serve Fae, not to be a part of them. But I understand your attachment to Lauren. You were raised as human; it seems fitting that you should fall prey to their emotional trappings, too.”

A retort formed on Bo’s lips but she had the good sense to not give it voice, clamping her lips together and chewing on the inside of her mouth. Lauren had always told her that The Ash wasn’t entirely unforgiving, nor was he merciless. And it seemed that today was going to be the moment in which that theory would be tested. So she gazed at the Light Fae leader with a hooded gaze, a muscle ticking agitatedly high up on her cheek.

The Ash moved closer to the bed; Lauren’s eyes fixated on the scalpel.

“I can try to save Lauren,” The Ash said in a quieter tone, looking down at his doctor with a glimmer of kindness. “On one condition.”

“Which is?” Bo’s chin jerked out. She might have known that this would come at a price. With The Ash, it always did.

A pair of deep brown eyes lifted to meet her own and The Ash blinked, just once. “You will join the Light. Be a part of us. Work for us.”

Silence rushed in to roar in Bo’s ears for a long moment. The Ash was playing the long game; a game in which she’d been an unwitting participant – Lauren, too. No matter how they had tried to weave around the rules that governed Fae, it seemed that they were destined to be caught in them. Their rigidity was unerring. And Bo realized in a rush of comprehension that to have the things she wanted – the people she wanted – she must sacrifice that which she held most dear: her freedom.

Again, choice slipped between her grasp and fell to the ground, shattering into tiny fragments that proffered her no leeway whatsoever. Because when it came to Lauren, to the meaningful relationship they had formed and the trust and love that existed between them, there really wasn’t any choice at all.

“Bo, don’t.”

Lauren, head raised from the pillow underneath it, was looking directly at her. And there was understanding in those eyes as well as love. The strain on the doctor’s face showed in deep lines around her eyes and mouth, but she was trying, nonetheless, to be the person that the Succubus recognized.

“Lauren.” Bo moved forwards, swallowing over the lump of relief that formed in her throat. This was the person she wanted. At any cost. “I have to.”

“No,” Lauren shook her head wildly, her blonde hair flying around her face. “No you don’t. This is wrong.”

But the Succubus looked away towards The Ash, giving him a resigned nod of submission. He took a short breath, accepting her fealty with squared shoulders and a straightened back. And then he advanced upon Lauren with the scalpel held out before him, a makeshift sacrificial knife.

“Don’t you do this!” Lauren snarled as he grew close. “Don’t you make her do this!”

“It’s what she wants,” The Ash said without emotion. “And I know that you understand the necessary sacrifices one must make for the Light.”

“You bastard!” Lauren’s lip curled and she wrenched at the restraints on her arms and legs, pulling against them so that they strained against their tethers on the gurney. Shadows fell over her gaze, darkening the color of her eyes so that they shone almost black in the harsh overhead light. Any semblance of the woman The Ash had taken under his care dissipated, replaced only by a sticky hatred that spewed from Lauren’s lips.

“Hold her arm,” The Ash instructed Dyson. The cop’s fingers wrapped around Lauren’s right forearm, pushing it down against the bed.

“Bo,” Lauren cried, “don’t let them do this to me. Please, Bo. Don’t let them do this to you!”

Clutching her arms around her body once more, the Succubus shifted agitatedly from one foot to the other, aching to look away but unable to do so. She watched as The Ash lowered the scalpel, cutting a fine line in the soft tender flesh of Lauren’s inner arm. The knife made a whispering sound as it sliced easily through skin, parting it so that blood bubbled up and over the edges of the wound. Bo winced, nausea rising in her throat. Her arms tightened around her torso, holding on, it seemed as though for dear life itself. For Lauren’s life.

Lifting the scalpel, The Ash was now murmuring words under his breath, his lips moving almost silently around a language that Bo didn’t recognize. Dyson’s grip increased as Lauren thrashed underneath him, her mouth shouting obscenities that caused even the seasoned detective to grimace.

Placing the scalpel delicately onto a nearby empty tray, The Ash held out his own arm, unbuttoning it at the wrist and rolling the sleeve up to above his elbow. Then, employing the same deliberate movement with which he’d applied knife to skin on his doctor, he drew the bloodied blade across his arm. If it hurt, he chose not to show it, his fist clenched hard as blood flowed over his skin, deep, rich, violent red.

Protestations flowed from Lauren’s mouth as The Ash dropped the scalpel back into the tray with a clatter, then moved forwards and lowered his arm to hers, pressing down hard. At the contact, Lauren began to scream, a high-pitched keening sound that echoed around the lab and quite drowned out the mumbling, sonorous incantations of The Ash.

It was too much. Bo’s eyes met Dyson’s across the gurney and she swallowed hard, her throat watery and raw, stomach churning. It was too much. And he knew it from the second he looked at her. She saw sympathy in his eyes, a burgeoning concern and the love that he held for her. Her eyes flickering downwards, she looked once more at the wailing, violent figure on the bed and felt sickness rise again in her gut.

Yes; it was too much. The rank, acrid smell of futility lurched in Bo’s chest and she turned away from the blood-smeared skin, the strange words that The Ash was repeating and the sight of Lauren, consumed by blackness.

Clamping a hand over her mouth, Bo ran from the lab, knowing that it was the last time she would be permitted to do so. She had traded her freedom for love, and now love lay bleeding and empty on a hospital bed. It was far too much, more than she had ever anticipated or prepared for.

She had barely made it outside the lab before she doubled over, clutching her hands to her stomach and vomiting, sinking to her knees.

Part 34

The journey back was something like waking from a bad dream, struggling towards clarity. In retrospect, Lauren would consider most of what had happened as ‘dreamlike’; the past weeks and days sitting heavily in the back of her brain like a half-remembered nightmare, flashes and images thrown into her memory with vicious abandon. In the waking haze that surrounded her, consciousness flitted in and out as though it was engaged in some taunting, light-footed dance. Sometimes she was aware of her surroundings and experiences with sharpness and definition. Most of the time, she struggled to make sense of anything at all. Time passed without definition. Time passed without meaning.

She woke to the buzz of the overhead lights and the hum of the labs. It was familiar, almost comforting in its constancy. Her first sensation was one of peace. Her head felt clear for the first time in days. Her thoughts, her own. The pain that had spread its tendrils throughout her body and clutched at her with agonizing claws was gone. There was an absence of fear, of the terrors that had precipitated pain. Only gratitude flooded her body now; the knowledge that she had returned as easy to discern as the understanding that a part of her had been gone.

Turning her head to one side, it took a moment to bring the enclosure into focus: the pale green curtains that were drawn around her, the metal instrument table by the foot of the bed, the proximity of a water jug, placed on the bedside table. Squinting, she licked at her lips. They were dry, like she’d been thirsty forever, seeking a cool oasis in the desert of her confusion.

Rolling over onto her side, her limbs felt stiff and unused but not painful. She lifted a hand and reached for the water jug but dark fingers covered her own and stayed its progress. Looking up, she saw The Ash standing by her bed, gazing down at her with deep brown eyes. In them, she thought she saw satisfaction for a moment, relief etching a darker hue around the edges of his pupils. But it disappeared almost as quickly as she’d spied it and instead, a tight smile pulled at his mouth.

“How… how long?” she croaked, her throat feeling like it was filled with sand. The Ash poured her a glass of water and inserted a straw, holding it to her lips. It was only as she swallowed her second mouthful that Lauren became aware of the incongruity of his actions; that he was serving her, attentive gaze fixed on her face. It went against everything Fae believed in; everything she had believed in, too. The Ash was not created to serve others, and especially not a human. Not one who had done and said the things that she had.

She flushed a little, avoiding his eyes.

She didn’t deserve this.

Replacing the glass of water on the bedside table, The Ash sat down in a chair that was placed to one side of her bed. Lauren struggled up into a sitting position, leaning heavily against the pillows piled up behind her.

“How long?” she repeated, frowning at the sound of her roughened voice.

The Ash took a breath, crossing one of his legs over the other and resting his hands in his lap. Linking his fingers, he composed himself.

“Six days,” he told her. “After the ritual, you fell into a deep sleep. We moved you here into one of our private rooms so that you’d be close by when you awoke.”

“What if I hadn’t… hadn’t woken up?”

She couldn’t help asking. The memories she did have of the ritual were fogged, at best. But she’d known what was happening. Bo had once boasted that nobody knew as much about Fae lore as Lauren. Whether that was true or not – and Lauren suspected that Mr Trick knew far more than he was ever likely to admit to – the doctor hadn’t told Bo that it was both a blessing and a curse. That, in knowing so much about the Fae, Lauren was also the holder of their secrets.

What humans liked to term ‘magic’, or explain away with mythology and folklore, Lauren had read about in the ancient tomes of the Fae library. It was easy to dismiss that which one had never witnessed. The truth of the Fae world was her own secret to keep; a secret that encompassed the true nature of blood rites, of the ritual that The Ash had performed. And what he’d sacrificed.

As she gazed at him, eyes widening, he smiled at her.

“My blood, Lauren.” It was all he really needed to say. “I knew you would endure. Just as the Light always has.”

Her eyes were drawn to the dressing and bandage she could see under his white shirt. Then she looked at her own arm, gauze and wrapping from the wrist to the elbow. They were joined by blood now, by a mystical transfusion that had saved her life, obliterating Darkness with Light.

“Does it hurt?” she gestured towards The Ash’s arm and he looked downwards with an equivocal gaze.

Glancing up at her, his mouth formed a firm line of silence. Even if it did, he wasn’t likely to share that pain. Sighing a little, Lauren leaned back onto the pillows. She wasn’t the only one who kept secrets; that was clear. The Ash’s stoicism had always been her worst enemy, particularly when it came to his health, and it was with a doctor’s eye that she turned to him again.

“Have they been taking the proper precautions?” she asked, concerned. “My staff, I mean. I assume they’ve been treating you while I’ve been… well… ”

The Ash shook his head and held up a hand to stop her line of questioning. “Child,” he said in a rumbling tone, “do not concern yourself with my health. Think only of your own.”

“But that’s not why I’m here,” Lauren told him, blinking in protestation. “I’m supposed to be your doctor, and as such, I need to – “

Again, The Ash lifted his hand to quiet her and it was accompanied this time by a firming of his mouth and an imperceptible shake of his head.

“You will be my doctor again,” he said by means of placating her. “But blood rites hold risks for all those who participate in them. Do you think I was unaware of that? That I didn’t prepare for the possibility of undertaking such a ritual?”

Dumbly, Lauren shook her head and looked away from him. It wasn’t so much the consequences of the ritual that troubled her – she had an expertly trained staff on call to ensure that he returned to full health as soon as possible. No; it wasn’t really that at all. It was rather more that, if he was able to cope without her, without her presence in his labs and under his protection, then what purpose would she have at all? She’d spent so many years away from human society that to be unceremoniously returned to it would be worse than any punishment The Ash could devise. Worse than anything she’d already experienced.

“Healing takes time,” The Ash intoned softly, drawing her attention once more. He looked at her a little more closely, narrowing his gaze as though searching for something specific in her pale face and worried eyes. “For all who need it,” he added.

She remembered, then: the fear and anger that had coursed through her and controlled all of her desires and thoughts; all of her words. A pang of shame and penitence rushed into her chest and she almost clutched a hand to her heart from the sheer force of it. Physical recovery would probably be a quicker path to follow than the emotions that had been injured. And it was with a pained expression that she also remembered Bo, barely able to look at her and surrendering the one thing she held most dear in order to save a life.

Lauren wasn’t sure that she deserved that, either.

“Thank you,” she said in a small voice, dipping her head in gratitude and letting out a small, dismissive breath. “I don’t really know how to – “

“Then don’t,” The Ash said abruptly, nodding and smoothing a hand over the crease in his pants. “The High Council considered it recompense for what we gained.”

“Bo.”

He nodded again. “It seems that, in the end, you did persuade the Succubus to join us. You have my thanks for that, Lauren.”

Tears pricked the backs of her eyes and she blinked rapidly over them. This wasn’t the way she wanted to serve out her indenture. It wasn’t the legacy she wanted to leave as part of the Light. It stuck like a betrayal in her throat, forming a hard knot that she swallowed over. Disappointment ebbed and flowed in her chest, smothering her heart. Serving The Ash had caused her to betray it. And somehow, he had always known that it would.

“But you could have performed the ritual at any time,” Lauren said. It wasn’t an intentional accusation, but she couldn’t quite keep the resentment out of her voice. She’d known about The Ash’s powers, the light and life with which he was imbued. That was his legacy. “You waited until she didn’t have a choice.”

“I waited until I had no choice, Lauren.” There was a note of desperation in his voice, changing the timbre of it. She looked at him now, eyes searching his features for a sign that she still mattered, that she wasn’t just a pawn in his power games. But his face was blank, his eyes hooded.

Perhaps she’d been mistaken all along.

“But you didn’t,” she whispered. “You waited until you had something to gain. And I… I know that my life was – “

Gulping back a sudden rush of emotion she shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut. Lauren had always thought her relationship with The Ash transcended the bonds of ownership that had initiated it. She should have known better. Should have guessed that, as a human, she didn’t really matter at all.

Lauren hated being wrong. Especially about this.

The Ash leaned forwards and reached out, taking one of her hands in his own. Lauren opened her eyes, startled. It was an affectionate gesture, never previously a part of their relationship. It was unusual, unexpected, and sent alarm shooting up and down her spine. His long, cool fingers closed around hers and he sighed, looking troubled.

“We’re taught that humans have no relevance in our lives other than for sustenance and sport,” he said.

“And which one am I?” Lauren asked bitterly. She’d stopped trying to reason with Fae prejudice a long time ago; doing so hadn’t come easily, but she had adopted subservience and ignorance like a mantle, wearing it with resignation. She knew her place. Or, at least, she’d thought so until Bo. And then, everything she’d constructed so carefully had been decimated, reduced to rubble underfoot.

The Ash looked at their joined hands and pursed his lips. “Neither,” he told her gently. “You have become of great value to me.”

“I’m your doctor,” Lauren told him tersely. “It’s the duty I undertook. And I’m good at my job. Of course I’m valuable.”

A wry smile twisted his mouth. He could hear Lauren’s grievance in every word, every shortened syllable. Of all the humans who lived and prospered under his care and protection, she had become more than just his ward. More than just his doctor. She had once told him that she felt more Fae than human; the truth in that statement hadn’t gone unnoticed by him.

But even though her knowledge of his world was unsurpassed by many who were born as Fae, she could never hope to understand his tenuous position. As a leader, he had abjured personal attachments in favor of the purpose that lay on his broad shoulders. He had adopted that purpose and made it his life’s work; his only reason to endure, to survive. And it overwhelmed anything and everything else.

Yet, in sharing his blood with her; sharing the Light that he embodied as a figurehead, he knew that those days, for Lauren, would be over. It was the reason blood rites were almost extinct. The reason they were a last resort. Their consequences were so pervasive and Lauren, despite her sense of hurt and the fact that she felt utilized like just another player in his game, would come to understand that what he had shared with her was painfully intimate.

“Lauren.” The Ash tried again, his touch coolly insistent against hers. “You are more than my medical advisor. My lenience with you and the Succubus should have indicated that.”

She didn’t look at him. Couldn’t.

“I wouldn’t have let you die.”

Now her eyes turned to look at him, wide and fearful. She wanted to believe him; to place her faith in his hands once more, just as she’d done at the beginning of all of this. But he had traded her life for another’s and the knowledge of it sat like a stone in her gut, immovable, indestructible. Rationality fled from the purity of her emotional response to his actions. And she became as human as she’d ever been, rooted in the confusion of a world she thought she’d left behind.

“Wouldn’t you?” Her question was accompanied by a glitter of tears that she shook away with jerky movements of her head.

Sliding his hand from hers, The Ash replaced it in his lap with careful, deliberate movements. He’d always relied on Lauren’s ability to divorce herself from her feelings; to temper the irrationality of humans that he abhorred so much. The Succubus had infiltrated that detachment, forcing Lauren to be who she was – the person she’d been when he first found her: a creature of emotion. A human.

So it was with some care and resignation that The Ash turned to her now, fixing her with a deep gaze that carried so many years of disappointment, of denial, of difficulty.

“I did not perform the blood rite lightly,” he explained. Lauren glanced at the bandage on her arm and frowned, lips pursing. “In our history, there have been few humans who have experienced the level of protection that you have. Do you understand why, Lauren?”

She shook her head silently and he smiled. It was her way to serve without question and never ask for more than she deserved. Even when her heart had longed for another, she had tried to adhere to his rules. Even when he had forced her hand and she’d found loyalty to be a necessary casualty of love, she hadn’t done so lightly or without guilt.

“You have given far more than you’ve taken. For the Light. For me. Most humans feel enslaved by the Light. You became liberated by it.”

She nodded. “Yes.” Despite his punishments, his strictures, his disapproval of her relationship with Bo, Lauren had never felt more a part of anything than she had done living and working under The Ash. The sacrifices she’d made to do so – her sister and her human life – seemed to pale in comparison to what she knew was her purpose.

“You are an asset to the Light, Lauren. Your reward was to continue to be so. How it happened, or why it happened is meaningless. You need to remember that.”

So many contradictions flew around Lauren’s head. The Ash had almost let her die to save her. He had traded her so that he could keep her. None of it made sense. None of it, perhaps, ever would. In the world of the Fae, ambition and tradition walked hand in hand and followed an ancient path. She had always revered that path but never stepped onto it herself; she’d never been given the permission to do so. But now… now it seemed that The Ash himself had invited her into a community whose doors had always been firmly closed against her. She’d garnered respect, even trust, but she wasn’t one of them. That had been made painfully clear to her time and again.

“Your blood,” she began, lifting her bandaged arm slightly, “it’s in me now.”

The Ash shrugged slightly, tilting his head thoughtfully to one side. “The Light is in you,” he corrected her. “My blood was the conduit through which you could be restored. As I’m sure you are aware, human mythology credits the ash tree with restorative powers.”

“Uinsinn,” Lauren murmured. “The Gaelic word for ‘protective’.”

“Precisely,” The Ash nodded. “You and I, Lauren, now share a bond like no other. I swore to protect you, and I did. I will continue to do so.”

“But… Sagi,” she blurted suddenly, a flush of shame rising on her throat. “He used my research to make this thing… this drug. Research that I gave him to help Bo and… ” Her voice trailed away. She wasn’t responsible for Sagi’s actions, for his devotion to Chaos or the part he had played in bringing it into their world – into her life. But that years of work, beloved and nurtured by her own hand, had been instrumental in spreading Chaos? That was a bitter pill to swallow.

“I feel like this is my fault,” she said, forlorn. She hung her head under The Ash’s inspection, unable to look at him again. But this time, it was for fear that he would see her failure, absolute and drawn in sharpened lines of pain across her face.

“Past transgressions are only present pain if we show no remorse for them,” he intoned, his voice a low rumble. “Just as you took Light and life from my blood, so I took comprehension from yours. I know you regret the mistakes you made. Sagi, however, does not.”

Lauren dared glance at The Ash, giving him a sidelong look as she digested his words; words of forgiveness, of realization, a surprising understanding of who she was. Shivering slightly, she began to ponder the ramifications of the blood rite. Of how the exchange of life itself carried more than just healing.

“What’s going to happen to him?” she asked in a whisper.

The Ash shrugged, the corners of his mouth turning down. “The Morrigan will mete out just punishment according to the laws of the Dark Fae.”

“You mean death, don’t you?”

“Perhaps after a while,” he said thoughtfully. “But The Morrigan has a penchant for playing with her food first. I’m sure that Sagi’s retribution will not be swift, or easy. The Dark doesn’t tolerate traitors. Neither do we.”

The underlying threat in his tone made Lauren shudder involuntarily. She had stepped closer to the line of mendacity than most, allowing emotion to control logic more than once. Her punishment in the nether worlds had given her no reason to doubt The Ash. But this time it seemed different, and she wasn’t sure why.

“I won’t let you down again,” she told him, meaning every word.

“Nor I, you,” came The Ash’s reply, widening Lauren’s eyes to astonished pools of light.

He got to his feet and nodded at her by way of farewell. Almost at the curtains, he was reaching to pull one of them back when she called his name. Turning, he looked down the length of the bed at her pale features and bright, feverish eyes. She seemed frail; sickened by what The Darkness had taken and by what he himself had given. Not for the first time in the last few days, The Ash wondered at her resilience; at how she insisted on returning to him. Throughout the many years he had been obeyed and served, Lauren’s constancy was singular among all the devotees that had lived and died under his leadership. Remarkable, even. For human or Fae.

“About… about Bo… ”

“Yes?” He let the curtain fall behind him for a moment, seeing how her mouth worked around words that were silent on her lips for a few seconds. He sighed inwardly. He had expected this. Prepared for it. Wondered at how these two women seemed inextricably bound to one another as strongly as Lauren was to him. Perhaps even more so.

“I know if I return to work for you as your doctor, then… ” Lauren sucked in air, suddenly feeling breathless, heart increasing its pace to an uneven clatter in her chest. “I can’t see her any more, can I?” She gasped over the question, clamping her lips tight shut as soon as the words had left them.

“She’s entitled to the same medical treatment as all of our kind,” was The Ash’s equivocal response. But he saw the tremble of her lip and the abrupt, jerking nod of her head as she interpreted his words as a refusal.

“Lauren,” he said, a little more kindly, “the Succubus will have many more affairs to occupy her mind than those of the heart. She will commence training to learn about the Fae; to become the creature she was always destined to be.”

Now she shook her head, confused. “I don’t… I don’t know what that means.”

The Ash shrugged and nodded at her. “Then I suggest you find out. Bo is going to need all the help she can get. The Fae library is at your disposal.”

It wasn’t the answer she was looking for, nor was it the affirmation she desired. It was vague and nebulous, permission neither granted or denied. She stared at him, mouth falling open, questions unasked. But he merely nodded at her again, pulling aside the curtain and leaving her alone, pondering the possibilities.

Bo’s destiny and all it encompassed was clearly The Ash’s prime concern. The relationship she had formed with Lauren, less so. For the first time in what felt like forever, Lauren felt hope burgeon in her chest, giving her justification and reason to carry on; to endure. Just like the Light did.

She looked down again at the bandage on her arm and reached out, touching it lightly with the fingers on her other hand. The Ash; the Light was a part of her now.

And perhaps… just perhaps, she was also a part of it.

***

Bo stood in front of The Ash’s desk, reminded of high school. Once, a particularly cruel classmate had taken it upon themselves to taunt and tease her for a full Chem class. By the time the end of the lesson approached, Bo had had her fill. Her retribution was swift and impulsive, resulting in some rather unfortunate substances being thrown at the offending girl. Luckily for Bo, they hadn’t been corrosive, but the ensuing stains on the girl’s clothing had been more than unfortunately placed.

Of course, Bo had been summoned before the Principal and punished accordingly. But she had met it with a resolute determination that her actions hadn’t been egregious, but merely the best and most efficient way of handling a bully. If she didn’t stand up for herself then who else was going to? She’d been an outsider ever since her first day at school; adopted kids were something of a curiosity in the sleepy town where she grew up. Pointing fingers at those who were different was generally accepted as a rite of passage at her high school, just like countless others.

Unfortunately, the Principal hadn’t agreed with her particular brand of justice. Two weeks of detention had been meted out as a sentence and Bo had silently fumed at the unfairness of it all. Conformity, it seemed, was the only way to seek acceptance. And she just didn’t fit in.

Standing before The Ash right now, Bo shifted uncomfortably. Lauren had once made a similar comparison, although Bo found it hard to believe that the doctor could have been anything but obediently studious at school. The little that Lauren had said about her young life seemed as foreign to Bo as the world of the Fae. Raised in a middle-class family, Lauren hadn’t had to fight to survive in a public school, Bo was certain. And it was hard to imagine a younger version of the doctor being hauled up for troublemaking. It just wasn’t in her nature.

The study remained deathly quiet, a clock’s rhythmic ticking the only sound between them as the Succubus stood her ground and met The Ash’s eyes with a tense, defiant stance.

He blinked, drawing breath and straightening a little in his chair.

“You’ll need to be educated, of course,” he commented, as though they had merely paused in the middle of a conversation. But this was the first time he’d spoken since Bo had been shown into the study and she stared at him, surprised.

“Educated?” she echoed. “I said I’d join the Light. I didn’t say I’d go back to class.” She had the temerity to laugh a little, cocking her head onto one side. This really was like school. She’d never taken it seriously then and she sure as shit wasn’t going to start now.

The Ash cleared his throat and sighed a little. “You were raised as a human and, as such, are ignorant of our ways. It will be necessary to rectify that. I’ve asked Mr Trick to give assistance. You trust him.”

“You don’t!” Bo snorted, head rearing back.

The Ash nodded sagely, a tiny smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Trick knows more about our world than most Fae. He has the most information to offer. And my feelings on the matter aren’t as important as yours.”

Bo shifted, folding her arms over her chest and eyeing the Light Fae leader with some skepticism. “Well that makes a change,” she muttered.

“Don’t mistake my intentions.” The Ash stood, wincing as he planted his hands onto the arms of his chair and pushed himself up. He glanced down at his arm where the bandage was tightly wrapped underneath his shirt. Healing would take time; he had been assured of that. Ritualistic bleeding always reduced strength to weakness; the well of power that he had accessed wasn’t bottomless and it had been several days before he had regained enough vitality to rise from his bed.

So as he eyed Bo carefully, he was more than aware that this would be another difficult exchange; a hard-earned and possibly painful one. The Succubus was, after all, still the wild spirit that she had been when he’d first met her. Taming it, shaping it, using it would take rather more than a simple acquisition of knowledge. He had said as much to Trick, who had dubiously accepted the challenge and been wise enough not to question it any further than was necessary.

“Your world is with us now,” he intoned, drawing close to her and seeing her stiffen slightly. “You swore fealty to the Light. I simply cannot allow you to –“

“Allow me to what?” Bo glowered at him, meeting his gaze head on. “Live?”

“Child,” The Ash said quietly, not without some empathy, “you can accept your destiny within our ranks or you can suffer the consequences. That was the choice you made. I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that you were well compensated.”

Bo snorted and tossed her head. “If you’re talking about Lauren, then her life wasn’t compensation.” She spat out the word as though it tasted foreign to her lips and saw a flicker of recognition in The Ash’s eyes.

“You could have saved her all along,” she continued. “You knew how, but you waited until the very last moment, didn’t you? Because you knew,” she tugged one of her arms from where it was folded against her body and lifted a finger in the air, jabbing it towards him, “you knew that I’d never agree to join the Light unless I absolutely had to.”

The Ash said nothing. Blackmail was such a human concept. Fealty, honor and duty were tenets that he believed in. And they were of paramount importance to the future of his people. Of the Light itself. But he knew that he had coerced Bo into loyalty and it didn’t sit easily with him, even if the High Council had congratulated him on a task well accomplished.

“Let’s not pretend that I’m serving some higher purpose here, okay?” Bo waved her hand in the air, her lip curling in disgust. “You know why I did it. And it had nothing to do with the Light, or you, or whatever you’ve got planned for me.”

Her chest heaved with anger that she was barely keeping at bay and she clamped her lips together momentarily, eyes burning.

The Ash nodded slowly. Yes; taming the Succubus and bending her to his will – to the will of the Light – would be quite the enterprise. But he would have her fealty, in the end. And it would be true; without condition or duress. Just as it was written in the ancient prophecies.

“Just so we’re not fooling ourselves,” Bo added, shoving her arm back against her chest once more. “I think it’s helpful to be clear, don’t you?”

She smiled at The Ash and nodded her head, but there was no mirth in her eyes and they tracked his features carefully, hesitantly. He couldn’t know how her heart was pounding in her chest, or how courage, so often her companion, had all but deserted her now. She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin again, assuming a stance of resolute determination. Fake it ‘til you make it; that’s what Kenzi always said.

Bo was pretty sure that she’d be faking quite a lot of things from now on. Particularly when it came to her dealings with the Light.

“I believe you’ve been more than succinct,” The Ash replied. “Now, let me be as concise with you. You will do our bidding. You will no longer continue to move between Light and Dark. And you will not, under any circumstances, immerse yourself in the human world unless it is under our direct instruction.”

He lifted an eyebrow, clasping his hands together in front of him. “Do I make myself clear?”

Bo’s features tightened, but she nodded abruptly. “Crystal.”

“Good.” The Ash turned and walked back around his desk to sink into his huge chair once more. “Your training with Mr Trick will begin immediately. Try not to be late, won’t you?”

He glanced up at her and was filled with a vague, conceited pleasure at her reluctance to comply; at her inability to refuse. Perhaps, he reasoned with himself, it wasn’t only Mr Trick’s instruction that would try and test the Succubus. But then, hard lessons never had come easily. Not to him and not to any Fae who chose to go against the laws that governed them. Once Bo was conscious of that, she might even begin to like being part of the Light.

Reaching out, he pulled some papers on his desk towards him, dismissing her without even glancing in her direction.

Bo’s eyebrows rose and she huffed out a short breath of air. “Okay then,” she muttered to herself. “Nice chatting with you.”

It was only when she was halfway towards the door that she turned on her heel, looking back at The Ash, ensconced behind his desk and clearly in no mood for further conversation.

“What about Lauren?” she asked.

His head lifted and he looked at her almost quizzically. “What about her?” he responded.

“Seriously?” Bo took a few steps back towards him, her hands flying out into the air by her sides. Incredulity filled her face as she gazed at him before her eyes narrowed and she let out a disdainful sound.

“I want to see her,” she said. “Nobody’s let me see her.” She had tried to gain entry to the labs, but the doors had been locked against her. Not even Dyson had been able to help. He’d told her quite firmly that, for now, she would do well to abide by The Ash’s wishes. With a sinking heart, Bo had known that he was right.

But it hadn’t stopped her from visiting the labs every day for almost a week, just in case.

“She’s no concern of yours,” The Ash told her, frowning. But he was inwardly surprised that it had taken Bo so long to mention his doctor. Letting out a sigh, he watched as Bo’s face worked in contemplation. These two women would be the death of him, if he let them.

His arm pricked with pain as he moved it and he glanced down at the bandage underneath his shirt sleeve. His disapproval of their relationship didn’t mean that he was unable to understand it, and he’d rationalized it down as collateral damage of sorts. Staring at the bandage, his mouth twisted. Blood rites had their own peculiar consequences; he’d known that before participating in it. But a greater understanding of his doctor’s irrational feelings for the Succubus? He hadn’t quite known or expected that.

The Ash couldn’t honestly say that he was the better for it.

Bo advanced until she was at the desk, leaning forwards and planting her hands onto it so that she loomed across the surface towards him. Her lips pulled back, revealing teeth that were gritted in anger. It was a moment before she was able to speak, and when she did, it was in a grated, hoarse tone.

“You used her,” she snarled. “Again. I agreed to join the Light. I didn’t agree to stop seeing her.”

He stared at her for a long moment. The High Council cared little for Lauren’s fate and had considered her more of a bargaining chip than anything else. They paid no attention to a human slave and had dismissed her from their affairs in light of what they had gained from Bo’s allegiance.

Collateral damage, he mused silently. A far cry from how he now saw his doctor. The bond between them had always been strong. Now it was unbreakable, formed in blood and incantations.

But a bond of love? Well, perhaps that was just as unbreakable. And all the rules in Fae history couldn’t deny that it existed and weathered many storms.

“We don’t have relationships with humans,” he stated firmly; one last attempt at persuasion.

Bo stood now and looked down at him. “Yeah? We don’t give our blood to save their lives, either, right?”

A wry smile pulled at The Ash’s mouth. Bo was learning fast.

“I know you care about her,” she told him, voice a little softer. “I know she’s important to you. Well, she’s… she’s important to me too. I wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for her and if you think I’m going to stop – “

“Very well,” The Ash said, holding up a hand to stop her tirade.

Drawing in a short breath, Bo frowned. She hadn’t expected that. Not from him, anyway. And it confused as much as delighted her.

“Very well… what, exactly?” she asked, twin lines furrowing her brow.

The Ash blinked. “You may see Lauren.”

“Whenever I want?” She was almost breathless now, heart racing.

“Whenever necessary. She is the Fae doctor, after all. She’ll need to treat you when required, administer medication. She’s also a useful source of information. Use her to complement your training.”

Bo balked, frown deepening. “What’s that supposed to mean? That she’s… that she’s just my doctor? Or… or a teacher? Or… what?”

The Ash looked down at his desk now, shuffling papers on it and looking at them with a considered gaze. He had promised the High Council that he would do whatever it took to secure the Succubus’ loyalties. In doing so, it seemed that he would be forced into uneasy compromise and look to where Bo’s real loyalties lay. Their laws, he concluded, might be open to some interpretation that welcomed ignorance. What was it humans said? Turn a blind eye?

His lip curled in distaste. He wasn’t accustomed to adopting human behavior. He was even less accustomed to advocating it.

Heaving a sigh, he shook his head. “Don’t keep Mr Trick waiting.”

“But – “

“This meeting is over.” Now he lifted his head and looked at her, his jaw firming.

Bo shook her head wordlessly, mouth open in confusion. She backed away from the desk, hopeful that he might elaborate. By the time she reached the door of the study, The Ash was picking through the papers on his desk once more, oblivious to her presence.

Part 35 - Final Chapter

Bo followed a nurse to the outer lying area of the labs. It was quieter here, less populated than the larger room she’d visited on so many occasions before. But she was glad of it; she’d received enquiring glances from the staff, their eyebrows rising with interest as she’d stalked past them. She could pretend not to notice; she could even pretend not to care. She’d done it for long enough to have the act almost perfected, anyway.

But every eye that turned upon her and the whispered comments behind her back stuck in her craw. By the time she reached the doorway leading to a small room, she was somewhat irritated. The nurse by her side pointed through the doorway, giving Bo a tight, polite little nod. Probably going back to gossip with her cronies, Bo thought, managing a grimace of reply instead of a smile as the nurse left her.

Turning into the small room, she paused. When The Ash had given her permission to see Lauren, she had spent so much time pondering what he’d said to her – or what he hadn’t – that she’d given little thought to what it would be like to lay eyes on the doctor again. So as she looked across the simply furnished room towards the bed, she was less than prepared for how she’d feel. All she did know was that her desire to see Lauren superseded everything else, sending her into something of a frustrated tailspin as she was repeatedly turned away.

Lauren was reading, an open book resting on her lap as she sat up in the bed. She was immersed in it, eyes tracking intently across the pages. She was pale, wan, clearly recovering at a much slower rate than The Ash. Her hair hung in straight lines over her shoulders and she looked tired, shadows looming beneath her eyes.

The Darkness and the blood rite that eradicated it had clearly taken their toll. But to Bo, Lauren had never looked more beautiful. The pain that had etched lines around her eyes was gone; the gloom that had obscured her gentle heart no longer lingering in her complexion. She’d never looked more like herself.

Bo slumped against the door frame, heart swelling in relief and thanks. She couldn’t prevent the gasp that left her throat, one hand lifting to press against her trembling mouth.

Lauren looked up from her book, eyes widening to gloriously happy pools of deep brown as she saw Bo. Her mouth opened, but she said nothing. Their eyes met; held. Nothing had been forgotten; transgressions and words traded were stored in memories that refused to relinquish them. But still a soft, gentle smile curved Lauren’s mouth and for a moment, none of that really seemed to matter.

The emotion swum around them, bathing them in a glow that shone in their eyes and glistened with unshed tears. And then memory resurfaced, rushing in to overwhelm it and drag it into darker depths.

Lauren’s gaze flickered and she glanced downwards, reaching up to push a stray lock of hair back behind her ear. Drawing a short, anxious breath, she closed the book, putting it carefully onto the bedside table.

“Are you sure you’re supposed to be here?” she asked with a furtive glance towards the Succubus.

Bo rolled her eyes, pushing herself off the door frame and moving further into the room, finally settling onto the chair next to Lauren’s bed.

“It was getting to the point where I was ready to smash in some doors,” she said with a faint laugh. Then, looking up at Lauren, she shrugged and cocked her head onto one side. “Or noses,” she added with a smirk.

“I’m not sure that’s the sort of first impression you want to make after joining the Light,” Lauren responded with a faint hum of benevolent disapproval.

Bo leaned back in the chair, legs sprawling across the floor so her feet disappeared underneath the bed. Tossing her head defiantly, she snorted loudly. Too loudly for it to be anything but bravado.

“Yeah, well,” she drawled in a dismissive tone, “I kinda think my days of making a good first, second or hundredth impression on The Ash are well and truly over.” She threw another smirk at Lauren, but this time the doctor’s face was still, pensive.

Another moment of silence fell between them but now it was tense, filled with unspoken words, questions, affirmations.

Bo scooted forwards, leaning onto the edge of the bed. She almost reached out and touched Lauren’s leg, covered by blankets. But hesitation was the better part of valor and she stopped, instead clasping her hands together and letting them fall a few inches from Lauren’s form.

“Listen,” she said slowly, taking a deep breath, “about what happened. I – “

“We don’t need to talk about it.” Lauren held up a hand to stop Bo before she realized it was trembling and shoved it back into her lap. A remorseful expression tugged at her features as she looked at the Succubus, darkening her gaze.

“I… I’m not sure I even know how to talk about it,” she said, shoulders hunching shamefully. “I can’t take back the things I said. And yes,” she nodded, “I do remember them. I remember everything I said to you.”

Swallowing hard over the lump that formed in her throat, Lauren clamped her lips together and found that words failed her. She shook her head, staring down at her hands, fingers tightening against one another so hard that her knuckles turned white.

It pained Bo to see Lauren this way, caught between understanding why such terrible things had fallen from her lips, and feeling weighty penitence for them. Things would never be the way they were; that was a certainty Bo had been forced to accept.

Ultimately, it had been Kenzi, of all people, who had offered words of wisdom. She’d told Bo that relationships could only ever move forwards, not back. And if this was something worth having; something that the Succubus could invest in and commit to, then she and Lauren needed to move forwards together and leave the past behind, where it belonged.

It was taking those first, tentative steps into the unknown that posed something of a dilemma. Bo had never been with anyone long enough to encounter difficulties, let alone figure out how to move beyond them. Not to mention that their relationship had been founded in the hostile world of the Fae, trapping them both between duty and freedom. And Lauren… well, Lauren had closed herself off from the possibility of a relationship for so long that, in some ways, she appeared disconcerted that it had happened at all.

It wasn’t the least bit comforting.

“Lauren.”

The doctor jerked, almost lifting her head. But she didn’t look at the Succubus until one of her hands was extricated from its steadfast grip against the other and enfolded in Bo’s strong fingers.

“You know what I’ve been doing this past week?” Bo asked softly, tilting her head to one side and meeting Lauren’s gaze, so full of trepidation that her heart skipped to a quickened pace in sympathy. Lauren shook her head silently,

“I’ve been going out of my mind worrying about you.” A lopsided smile grew across Bo’s lips and her shoulders hitched in faint amusement. “Kenzi ended up threatening to beat me senseless with my own weapons. She said I was driving her crazy.”

A watery smile ghosted over Lauren’s mouth and she sniffed back tears that were prickling the backs of her eyes.

“So yeah, you can’t take back what you said,” Bo continued in a low tone, peering up into Lauren’s face. “And you know what? I don’t really want you to. Maybe you needed to say it. Maybe… ”

She screwed up her face and shrugged again. “Maybe someone did,” she said with a self-deprecating laugh.

“Bo… no!” Lauren breathed, appalled. “That’s not… not how I feel about you.”

Bo’s eyebrows rose and she eyed the doctor with some dubious skepticism. It still stung, the sound of Lauren’s voice echoing in her head; the harsh realities and unleashed emotions of the woman she loved resounding in her ears. Hearing them had been difficult; knowing that they were said with absolute conviction, unbearable. But in remembering them, Bo had surprised herself with the unshakeable belief that, no matter what she said, it was what Lauren felt that was most important.

And Lauren loved her. Bo was certain of that. She looked into Lauren’s eyes and searched them carefully, deliberately. All she could see was regret, glistening like rain.

“Isn’t it?” she asked slowly. Her voice held no accusation, only a weary acceptance of apology, of denial. Bo rubbed her thumb over the back of Lauren’s hand and shrugged a little. “I told you I loved you,” she said in a quiet voice, “and you despised me for it.”

“I didn’t… ” Lauren began, and then stopped. Because if she were to recall standing outside the nightclub, rain-soaked ground under her feet and Darkness rampaging through her blood, then she knew without recourse that what she had said was true. Saying it wasn’t would be a lie. And the time for falsehoods was long past. Honesty was really all they had left.

“You never really believed in my feelings for you, did you?” Bo asked, peering up into Lauren’s face.

The temptation to lie was almost overwhelming. And truth, an elusive and unreliable bedmate, crawled between them.

Were she to consider it carefully – and really, when hadn’t she agonized over it? – Lauren always found herself arriving at the same conclusions. She believed that Bo cared for her, but never truly thought the Succubus felt the same love she had nurtured and suffered. Whatever else the Darkness had dragged from her, it had pulled out the painful secrets she’d harbored for so long. Too long.

So in as much as she wanted to fervently assure Bo that she was wrong, Lauren knew that she couldn’t. Not now, when everything else had been stripped away and all that remained was the stark reality of their situation. After all the secrets and lies had been laid to waste, nothing else but love could survive, anyway.

But it was a love that Lauren never expected to have returned. Not from Bo. Not from anyone.

“I never believed I deserved it,” Lauren said. “It’s not that I didn’t think you were capable.”

She proffered a tiny smile towards the Succubus and felt Bo’s thumb pause on the back of her hand, stilling its motion as dark eyes became saddened, shadowed.

“What did I do wrong?” Bo asked suddenly, brow furrowed. “Lauren, what did I do wrong that you never knew how I felt?”

Now Lauren’s hand moved to cover Bo’s and she spread her palm over muscles that twitched and moved under her touch. She took comfort from Bo’s strength; she always had. There was such infinite power about the Succubus; it awed and intrigued her. But ultimately, it hadn’t been the brute force of physical strength that had saved her, but the fortitude of Bo’s heart: bigger and more generous than she’d ever given it credit for.

A wave of guilt washed over Lauren and she shuddered in its wake. Taking a breath, she attempted to quell the fluttering inside her chest and turned to Bo once more.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Bo,” she said. “You were the only person who did anything right in all of this mess. And look at what it cost you.” A bitter laugh escaped her lips and she pressed them together in frustration.

Yes; truth was a false honesty when seen through her own eyes. Because the real truth was that Bo loved her: utterly, completely, unconditionally. Whether deserving or not, that was what Lauren was offered. And it had been sealed in blood and sacrifice, one loyalty given for another.

It only made what they had to do all that much harder.

“I’d do it again,” Bo asserted firmly. She saw doubt flicker into Lauren’s gaze and lifted her chin in defiance.

“I would,” she said, nodding sharply. “But Lauren, you have to believe in us. Believe in me. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I know that I’m gonna need you to do that when I can’t. Okay?” She peered up into Lauren’s face and was gratified to see a tiny smile play around the edges of the doctor’s lips.

“Okay,” Lauren whispered. A tiny admission. A small bending towards compliance. But it was enough for now.

Drawing breath, Lauren tore her gaze away from the intensity in Bo’s eyes and glanced towards the book on her bedside table. “Speaking of what’s going to happen,” she said, grasping the book and lifting it onto her lap, “I’ve been doing some research.”

Bo made a small noise of acknowledgement and smiled wryly. “Alright,” she intoned sardonically, “now I know you’re feeling better. I mean, seriously, Lauren. Homework? Already?”

Lauren frowned good-naturedly and pulled her hand from Bo’s grasp. Shifting in the bed slightly, she made a space and patted at it. Bo rose from the chair and scrambled onto the bed, settling herself beside the doctor, shoulders pressed together. It evoked memories of the time before now; the past that had disappeared under the sooty realms of betrayal and hurt. This sort of intimacy had been easy before. Now it sent a flush of anticipation across Bo’s features and tugged twin lines of doubt between Lauren’s eyebrows.

The road back would be long. They both knew that. But as Bo leaned over Lauren’s shoulder, she felt the warmth of the other woman, the slender figure that she’d held against her own, the scent that was so quintessentially Lauren. She knew that the first steps on that road had already been taken. All they could do now was walk onwards into the unknown.

“Here,” Lauren opened the book and trailed a finger down one of the pages until it stopped by some symbols that Bo didn’t recognize. The Succubus frowned, squinting at them.

“What do they mean?” she murmured, the warmth of her breath floating across Lauren’s cheek.

The doctor shivered involuntarily, heart quickening. Resignation filled the spaces between heartbeats and she paused for a second. If what The Ash said was true and Bo needed as much help as Lauren could offer, then she would need to learn some control over the incessant sway towards the Succubus that she felt whenever they were close like this.

But it didn’t mean that she wasn’t caught in it, thrilled with the proximity of Bo’s body next to hers. Her head was filled with memories: curves that undulated and fit against her own so neatly it was as though they were always meant to do so; limbs that tangled with hers as they rolled and dipped in the throes of passion. She wanted it. God, she craved it. She probably always would.

Bo blinked with a knowing smile as Lauren’s eyes met hers. A Succubus was always able to find desire; it shone in hazy lines around those who felt it. And, right now, Lauren was glowing with it, a sheen appearing over her whole body and sparking hunger in Bo’s gut.

Swallowing, Lauren returned her attention to the page underneath her fingertip, trying to ignore the temptations her mind was throwing at her. “They belong to an ancient Fae language,” she explained. “This is a prophecy that talks about a savior for the Fae.”

“A savior?” Bo echoed, eyes widening. “You mean me?” she asked incredulously.

Lauren nodded, tracing the line of symbols once more.

“Holy shit,” Bo exclaimed. “Am I like… the Fae version of Jesus?”

Lauren suppressed a smile and the urge to laugh. “Not quite,” she remarked dryly. “The word savior is an interpretation. It doesn’t quite mean the same as it does in the human world. It’s really more of a… a leader, I suppose. I mean, this is the problem with a lot of the ancient texts,” she continued, warming to the subject. “They really don’t translate very well to modern English. Most of them were written centuries ago, probably when the English language was still developing as a spoken form of communication. And symbolic language really doesn’t allow for context and syntax change throughout the… ”

She trailed off, aware that two bright eyes were firmly fixed on her face and not the page of the book. Turning her head, she found that Bo was a lot closer than anticipated and she let out a startled breath.

“What?” she gasped. “What is it?”

Bo smiled; a slow, lazy grin that sent tendrils of want twisting into Lauren’s gut. She knew that look; that smile.

“Two things,” Bo said in a husked tone. “First, I know you’re really you again because drugged out Lauren would never have the patience to explain this stuff.” She ignored the pained expression that flitted across the doctor’s features and nodded.

“And second, I’d forgotten how completely nerdy you are about this crap.”

Flushing pink, Lauren let out a tiny huff of air. “It’s not ‘crap’, Bo. This is important. And I’m not a nerd if I’m simply doing my job. It’s – “

“Really hot,” Bo interrupted, the corner of her mouth lifting in an appreciative smirk. “Really, really hot,” she added in a whisper.

As she leaned in towards Lauren, her eyes glittered blue. The surge of hunger that ripped through her was primal, irresistible. But even as she reached for the doctor, Bo could feel tension in Lauren’s muscles, hardening under her touch as she slid her hand around the other woman’s neck.

“Don’t be afraid,” she murmured, her lips brushing against Lauren’s. “Please don’t be afraid.”

Lauren sighed. It was inevitable, really, that she could fear so greatly what she most desired. The past loomed up between them for a moment, darkening Bo’s touch with grimy fingers. It was almost enough to give them pause and broaden the space between them.

But not quite.

The kiss was gentle, tentative at first. It was only when an agonized groan sounded in Lauren’s throat and her hand left the book to snake around Bo’s neck that it deepened. Parting her lips, Bo’s tongue crept over the soft, sweet pads of the other woman’s mouth and darted inside. Lauren’s tongue rose to meet it, bending and swathing over Bo’s as they clutched at one another. Nails scratched insistent lines over the nape of Lauren’s neck and she felt Bo’s hunger pull at her like a memory, flooding her mind and then abating to the recesses of her brain.

Bo was holding back. Controlling herself. Desire and the urge to feed pressed her against the doctor, but temperance and caution forced her to resist. It was a strange feeling, she thought, as she let go of Lauren and moved back a little. So much of her life had been consumed by a power that she couldn’t overcome. And the one thing that kept it at bay was a force much stronger: love.

She let out an amused hum and leaned her forehead against Lauren’s for a moment. It was such a simple little word. And it described something so elusive, so complex that even trying to examine it made Bo’s head ache.

“I missed that,” she whispered. “I missed you.”

Lauren dared trail her fingers down Bo’s cheek, seeking comfort in the tangible warmth of the other woman’s contact. Lifting her head, she sat up, shaking a little, unsteady, dissembled.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she replied.

Bo rolled her eyes. “You better not,” she said wryly. “I think me offering to join the Light was kind of a one-time deal and they own my ass now. If you get all screwy again, I got nothin’.”

“Don’t.” Lauren looked away, back down at the book on her lap. “Don’t make jokes, Bo. These ancient writings… well, their meaning isn’t clear yet, but whatever The Ash needs you for, it has to be something pretty big if he and the Light Fae Army can’t resolve it.”

Groaning, the Succubus slumped back against the pillows on the bed. “Why am I not surprised?” she sighed, throwing up her hands. “Why do things the easy way when you can blackmail a Succubus into doing it the hard way, right?”

Consternation wrinkled her brow, her mouth tightening into a hard line. She hadn’t really considered the whys and wherefores of her decision. Not when Lauren’s life had been in the balance. As she glanced at the doctor, Bo knew that she’d made the right choice; it was just one that had far-reaching consequences. Ramifications of a kind that she was sure she should be afraid of.

“No – but – but it’s okay,” Lauren turned, nodding confidently. “It’s okay because The Ash told me I should help you and… and I’m going to read this book,” she lifted it from her lap and waved it in the air, “and lots of others and we’ll figure it out. Okay? We’ll figure this out. I promise.” She smiled brightly and was relieved to see Bo squint at her before breaking into a grin.

“What did you do to him?” the Succubus asked curiously.

“Um… what?” Lauren shook her head, confused. “Do to who… I mean, whom?” She blushed, laughing self-consciously. “What are you talking about?”

“The Ash,” Bo stated. “In the ritual… blood thingy. I know what he did to you, but something happened to him too, right? He wants you to help me? Since when does he approve of us even being in the same room, never mind spending time together?”

“We shared blood,” Lauren stated. “He shared the Light; the healing power that comes from The Ash. It’s a very old, very unpredictable ritual.” She paused, biting thoughtfully at her lower lip.

“Some of my blood is in him now, and some of his is in me.”

Bo’s mouth twisted. “Gross,” she muttered.

Lauren couldn’t help smiling. “It might seem gross to you, but I think ultimately it gave him a better understanding of things. Maybe it made him just a tiny bit more human.”

“Oh yeah? And has it made you a tiny bit more Fae?” Bo murmured, leaning in again to place a kiss on Lauren’s mouth.

“Not really,” Lauren chuckled. “Not at all, actually. Sorry to disappoint you,” she added with characteristic humility. “But, for as long as he’s going to tolerate us being around one another, I’m not going to question it.”

Her gaze dropped to the book on her lap once more and she shrugged a little, avoiding Bo’s eyes. “Besides,” she said lightly, “our relationship probably shouldn’t be a priority for anyone right now.”

“Anyone?” Bo said, a chill of alarm spiraling down her back. “Or just you and me?”

“Bo,” Lauren began in a tone that was too calm for the Succubus’ liking; too serious to mean anything but trouble, “you have a lot of training ahead of you and god knows what challenges ahead. The last thing you need is – “

“Being part of the Light and being with you shouldn’t be an either or situation, Lauren.” Bo’s hands closed around the doctor’s upper arms, squeezing tightly, panic hooking her fingers into claw like grips.

“I want both,” she said firmly, eyes glittering darkly. “I can do both.”

“Bo, you’re not listening to me,” Lauren said tersely. “You’re different… not like any other Fae I’ve ever known. You’re unique.” Her eyes shone with a strange delight, with awe and wonder and love. Always love.

“These prophecies… the ancient texts… they all talk about the one Fae who can bring about change. And if that’s you, Bo; if that’s your destiny, then you have to follow it absolutely and without any distractions.”

“You’re not a distraction,” Bo protested. “You’re not, Lauren. I can’t do this without you – The Ash said so, right? He wants you to help me.”

“And I will,” Lauren said gently. “I’m always going to be there by your side. But look at us, Bo; look at our relationship and what it’s done to us so far. To you.” Anxiety furrowed her brow and she pulled away from Bo’s grasp, clutching them against her stomach as though to assuage the deep unease that had settled there.

Bo’s mouth formed a resolute line, as hard as the truths that Lauren was sharing with her. She’d expected her freedom to be a necessary casualty of the agreement she’d made with The Ash. But not this. And especially not at Lauren’s behest. She really hadn’t considered the consequences of her decision to join the Light. And she felt trapped in a future that was already written in some dusty old texts and hidden away in the Fae archives until now. Until she had taken that first, desperate lurch towards it by saving Lauren’s life.

Her jaw hardened and she shook her head sharply. “I don’t understand what you’re telling me. That after all of this, you don’t want to be with me.”

“It’s not that at all,” Lauren responded quickly, gulping in a breath and trying to steady herself. But her voice wavered when she spoke and she avoided Bo’s eyes, hurt and inky black with questions.

“Your purpose,” she told the Succubus, “is much more important than you, or me, or us. Can’t you see that, Bo? I can’t stand in the way of that. I want to help you but… ” Lauren bit at her lower lip, shaking her head a little, long hair whispering over her shoulders.

“But?” Bo urged, head jerking forwards.

“But now is not the right time for us to be thinking about ourselves.”

A bitter laugh fell from Bo’s mouth and she rolled her eyes heavenward as though seeking some higher power that might reveal a more suitable answer. Finding none, she turned back to the doctor and let out a disconsolate, fearful sigh.

“So I guess I wasn’t the only one who chose the Light, then,” she said, hurt treading heavily on every syllable.

Long fingers slid across her cheeks, curving around the back of her skull. Bo’s head was forced upwards and she almost balked at the steely gaze that bored into her own. Lauren’s eyes were dark and unforgiving, resolute in their determination not to shy away from this.

“I love you, Bo,” the doctor said in a low tone. “Don’t ever doubt that. I know you want me and I… god… I want you too, of course I do. But you have to let me help you the best way I can. The only way I can right now. Our personal stuff is just… it’s going to have to wait; it’s the only way this can possibly work.” Lauren’s gaze was solemn, unrelentingly intense.

With a sinking heart and not a little regret, Bo knew that Lauren was right. Lauren was always right. Uncertainty filled their future, danger always at its back. Facing it together had never been in question. But it seemed that their fragile relationship just might be.

Acquiescing, Bo blinked in agreement, staring back at Lauren. This wasn’t what she’d envisaged. Not the reunion she’d desired. But hope, however small, burned briefly in her gut and she clung to it for a tiny moment, trying to remember how it felt should she need to revisit it in the days ahead.

“Then… what happens now?” she asked in a small voice.

Lauren smiled. “Do what you’re best at,” she told the Succubus, stroking her thumb along the line of Bo’s jaw.

“Yeah? And what’s that?” Bo’s lips curved at Lauren’s touch, but concern still lingered around her eyes.

“Be our hero.”

Bo blinked, digesting Lauren’s request; her judgment. Then, without a single word, she slid her arms around the doctor and pulled her into an embrace. Perhaps, she thought, she didn’t need answers today. Perhaps just knowing that she was able to love and to have that love returned was enough. In whatever shape it chose to manifest itself. She’d never found love – or kept it – the easy way before; it seemed incongruous for her to start now.

Duty and honor? Well, she was realizing, she had a lot to learn about those things. And maybe Lauren could teach her. She’d already taught her how to love, unselfishly and without condition. And hope flared again, lightening her heart as she held the other woman close; hope that somewhere beyond today, there might be a place for them in this world after all.

“Thank you,” she whispered, as she released Lauren and leaned back a little.

Lauren shrugged, rolling her eyes. “Hm,” she said dryly, “I should be the one thanking you, don’t you think?”

Bo grinned, glancing at her watch. Her features slid into an expression of horror and she leapt off the bed, boots hitting the floor with a heavy thud. “Thank me later,” she said hurriedly. “I’m late for my meeting with Trick. I have to - ”

Nodding, Lauren reluctantly leaned back in the bed, fingers sliding from Bo’s as the Succubus swore under her breath, rattled. She never wanted to let Bo go; never wanted to release the one pure thing she’d found to hang onto in this world. In the maelstrom of irrational and nonsensical emotions that whirled and battled inside her, Lauren knew that in order for Bo to return in the way they both desire, letting go was necessary. However painful it might feel in this moment.

Bo dashed halfway across the room before she halted, turning on her heel and rushing back to the bed.

“I’ll be back,” she told Lauren, lurching towards the doctor and placing a hasty kiss on surprised lips. “Maybe later you can explain some more of those… things to me, okay?” She gestured carelessly towards the book on Lauren’s lap and the doctor nodded agreeably.

Running for the doorway once more, Bo glanced over her shoulder and threw a crooked smile towards Lauren. “Just don’t… don’t go anywhere,” she demanded; a plea that brought a smile to the doctor’s mouth as she shrugged.

“Never,” Lauren murmured.

“Things are going to be different aren’t they?” Bo paused, hovering in the doorway to the room. “For us, I mean.”

It wasn’t really a question at all. It was an acknowledgement. An understanding. It passed between the two women without blame, but hung in heavy sadness on their shoulders all the same. And Lauren’s nod, tiny and silent, was all Bo really needed to see. She scuffed her boot on the floor for a moment, torn between wanting to stay and make Lauren understand the yearning in her heart, and wanting to fulfill a less selfish destiny.

“Lauren,” she finally said, “you and me – it’s not… it’s not over, and I – “

“I know,” Lauren nodded, stopping any and all protestations that she had anticipated Bo might make. “I know,” she said again, smiling.

“And I’m going to make you proud, you know. You and the whole freakin’ Light Fae!” the Succubus exclaimed, backing away through the open door before turning and heading off at high speed.

Smile still on her mouth, Lauren turned back to her book, thumbing through the pages until she reached the chapter she’d showed Bo. Her gaze followed the lines of inscription, symbols that she translated in her head slowly and painfully. She’d always abhorred languages as a child, even though she’d displayed an aptitude for them. It wasn’t the learning of them that irked her, it was rather more their nebulous nature. That was why she’d clung to science; why she still did. Science could be interpreted in irrefutable facts; language held so many different meanings that she had become lost in words, losing deixis and structure.

But, she sighed inwardly, she’d promised The Ash that she would apply herself to this task, even if translating an ancient Fae lexicon was a terribly slow process. Still, Lauren reasoned as her fingertip followed a line of symbols, anything she could do to help Bo would be worth it. In the end, it would all be worth it.

Her eyes fell upon a single hieroglyph and she stopped. Her lips moved silently as she repeated the translation several times before frowning, looking up and around the room as though surprised to find herself alone. The empty space roared silence into her ears as she looked back down at the page, mouthing the translation again, just to be certain of its meaning.

Letting out a great sigh, Lauren leaned back against the pillows and reached up, rubbing between her eyes. She pinched the bridge of her nose with forefinger and thumb, resisting the urge to throw the book across the room.

Dark days were ahead. Of that, she was not mistaken.

EPILOGUE

Sagi wasn’t really sure how long he’d been in the dank, unpleasant room below Dark Fae Headquarters. Time was irrelevant, anyway. He had accepted the finality of his fate long before it was likely to happen. The hours and days in between were merely a formality, all told. And it didn’t matter what happened to him in the time between capture and final, glorious release.

He shifted slightly, feeling the shackles around his wrists clink against the chain that fastened them to the wall. They were beginning to rub his skin and he moved again, trying to find a more comfortable position and failing. He settled awkwardly onto the seat underneath him and closed his eyes.

Not much longer now. Then he would feel the sweet, blessed benediction of Chaos. It was all he desired; all he had worked for. And he could almost taste it, black and welcoming and absolute on his tongue.

Sagi licked his lips eagerly. No; not much longer now. He’d been patient for years; he could stand to wait a little more.

The door to his cell groaned before opening, allowing light from outside to flood into the gloom. He squinted in its brightness, but barely flinched.

“And how are we feeling today?” The Morrigan sauntered into the cell, looking around with an expression of distaste on her lips. As her gaze finally fell upon the hunched figure of her former doctor, she halted in front of him.

“I trust the accommodation meets your expectations?” There was a cruelty to her voice, a sense of joy taken from the dim, bare cell that was hidden underneath the opulence that typified her reign, and the punishment meted out inside it.

Sagi lifted his head, eyes gleaming in the shard of light cast across his face. The light also showed bruises, purpled across raised welts on his skin. But he smiled, teeth appearing very white amidst the darkness of his complexion.

“I always wondered at your sense of tradition,” he said, voice hoarse from underuse. “Despite your indulgence in the trappings of modern society, your predilection for the old ways is really quite charming.” He glanced around the cell, at the stone walls, at the corners where damp crept up the brick with mossy fingers.

The Morrigan let out a laugh, but it was brittle with the sense of betrayal that she still felt; smarting and tender like an open wound, still weeping with unshed tears.

“Still so complacent,” she mused, lifting a hand to her hair and pushing at it. “This really doesn’t mean anything to you any more, does it?”

Sagi smiled again, his eyes dark, portentous.

“The time will come when it means very little to you,” he said in a hiss. “The time is coming when all of this, all your leadership, all the Fae communities that you’ve fostered and nurtured… it will all be gone. You can’t stop it; you can’t fight it and you cannot prevent the rise of Her glorious reign.”

The Morrigan’s lips twitched, but she said nothing, fixing Sagi with a furious glare.

“There are so many of us,” he continued, his voice a call to prayer. “More than you can ever know or fight.”

“Really?” The Morrigan mused, lifting an eyebrow and folding her arms over her chest. “You know, don’t you, that there is one who can eradicate the Darkness. Someone in an ancient prophecy?”

Of course he knew; Sagi knew almost as much about Fae history as she did. He’d made it his purpose under her leadership to glean information from the sort of texts that were unavailable to those of a lesser standing. So as she eyed him carefully, she observed the sneer that parted his lips with knowledge that had passed between them both, many times.

“The Succubus,” he nodded, before a grating laugh escaped his mouth. “She’s young, naïve. You don’t have time to bring her true powers to fruition. You don’t own her; the Light does. You have nothing.”

“And there you go again,” The Morrigan pulled a hand from where it was grasped against her chest and waved it dismissively in the air. “Always underestimating me.”

Behind her, two shadows loomed large and black in the doorway as Sagi espied the approach of Dark Fae. Their faces were set, immovable like stone. Their presence serving only one purpose: to end his life.

“I’m bored of this now,” The Morrigan drawled to one of them, gesturing towards Sagi with scarlet-tipped fingers. “See that his remains are destroyed. I want to forget he ever existed.”

She was almost out of the cell when she heard Sagi’s laugh, rising like a mocking wave of defeat to crash against her back.

“It’s too late!” he shouted out as the two Dark Fae closed in on him, reaching for his broken body with unforgiving hands. “It’s too late for her to save you! The Darkness is already here. It’s already here!”

THE END