The Paranormal PI Files, Tome 2 : Dead Fae Walking

Chapter 1

Deep within the ancient walls of the Crimson Court, a fist slammed onto a table. Said fist belonged to Balor Beimnech, our Master and our Prince. That was what we called him anyway. To others, he was the infamous Balor the smiter, known for burning his enemies to the ground. He was one of the most terrifying fae alive and had a bit of a temper, you could say. That said, his fury was kind of understandable in this particular situation.

Kyle, our resident computer geek, projected an image onto the far wall. He rubbed his temple, his curly red hair flopping down into his pale eyes. I could tell he was a little unnerved by Balor’s temper. But Kyle was kind of unnerved by everything.

I, on the other hand, was pretty blooming unnerved by the image on the wall. It showed a handwritten note, scanned into the system for the Court’s records. And it was not a pleasant note, exactly.

Dear Filthy Carrions,

A reckoning is coming. Your time of ruling London is almost over. The Sluaghs will rise.

It wasn’t signed, but why would it be? Clearly, the writer of the words wouldn’t want us to know who he was, or else we’d try to stop him. The Sluaghs rising all across London? Yeah, not really a fantastic proposition.

“Duncan.” Balor turned toward his second-in-command, the leader of the guard team. “Give me your thoughts.”

Duncan furrowed his bushy eyebrows and crossed his arms over his substantial chest. The guy was built like a tank and was twice as tall as I was, although that wasn’t saying much. I was pretty short. Anyway, his massive size probably had something to do with why Balor had chosen him to lead the team of guards. “Sounds like a sorcerer. I doubt any other supes would use that curse.”

He was talking about Filthy Carrion. Back in the day, sorcerers had used it as a curse to condemn supernaturals to a long, brutal, and horrible death. Usually, it was in payment for crimes. A punishment of sorts. But, as with everything, there were a few sorcerers who had gone totally mad. And they had taken the whole thing a teensy bit too far. They’d wiped out whole colonies of shifters, vampires, and fae.

It wasn’t a curse that had been used for a very long time. For good reason.

I raised my hand. “Don’t forget that I heard Fionn call me that.”

He’d only said it in his mind, but still. Fionn was the Master of House Futrail, which was technically part of Balor’s Court, but Fionn had started to go a bit rogue as of late. He didn’t agree with Balor’s alliances with local shifters and vampires, and so he kind of wanted to stage a revolt. So far he hadn’t done anything more than puff his chest and make a lot of egotistical threats, but I assumed it was only a matter of time.

“I doubt Fionn would attempt to use the Sluaghs,” Balor said quietly. “He despises other supernaturals, and he wouldn’t be able to control them. Only a sorcerer could.”

“No one in their right mind would use the Sluaghs,” Moira cut in with her signature straight-to-the-point style. She tightened her golden-haired ponytail and scowled. “They’re the walking dead. Sure a sorcerer could control them, in theory. But I can’t imagine one would be dumb enough to get involved in that kind of mess.”

Balor sighed, leaned forward, and braced his large hands on the table. “Well, someone certainly is. According to some reports, Sluaghs have been spotted in Highgate Cemetery. It’s been at least a century since they were last seen above ground. Until recently, they weren’t even seen below ground. Not locally. I thought they were gone from London, but they’re clearly back.”