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And then a great wind blew up out of nowhere, a soundless blast of bitter cold air that blew all the fog away in a moment, and just like that I was standing on a deserted helicopter landing pad on the top of an artificially levelled-off mountain. The pale yellow marking lines were faded and broken, and the slumping half-rotten control tower clearly hadn’t been used in years. There were five other people on the landing pad with me, as far away as they could get and not actually fall off the mountain. None of them appeared immediately dangerous, so I struck a nonchalant pose and looked around me, taking in the view.
I was high enough up to take my breath away in more ways than one. Place Gloria was set right in the heart of the Swiss Alps, and the long broken-backed range of mountain ridges stretched away in every direction. Snow-covered peaks lay below me to every side, each with their own collars of drifting clouds under a sky so blue and pure it almost hurt to look at. The air was thin and bitter cold, burning in my lungs as I tried for deeper breaths.
I was standing on top of the world, a long way from anywhere at all.
The sound of approaching footsteps turned my head around, and I growled deep in my throat as I recognised who it was. He must have seen the cold rage in my face, but he didn’t slow his approach. The Blue Fairy might have been many things, but he never lacked for balls. He stopped a polite and safe distance away and waited to see what I would do. He looked . . . watchful but not especially worried. I did consider killing him, right there, on general principles, but it seemed likely we were both here as guests of Alexander King, personally selected for his great game, and I couldn’t afford to upset the legendary Independent Agent. Besides, it wouldn’t look good, to be seen to lose control so easily, so early on in the proceedings. There would be other times. I fixed the Blue Fairy with a cold stare and bowed my head to him very slightly.
“That’s better,” said the Blue Fairy in an infuriatingly calm and drawling voice. “Let us all play at being civilised, for the time being at least. No squabbling, no accusing, no fighting in the playground. This contest is too important to all of us to risk being thrown out for bad behaviour.”
“You’d know all about bad behaviour,” I said, and there was something in my voice that made him flinch and actually fall back a step. “You betrayed my trust. Stole a torc. Spat in the face of my family. There will be a reckoning, Blue. But . . . not yet. There will be time for many things, once I’ve kicked your nasty arse right out of the game.”
He tried to smile haughtily, but his heart wasn’t in it. I looked him over. The Blue Fairy looked a lot better than the last few times I’d seen him. He looked healthier, even younger, and while he still looked every one of his years, he carried them more easily. He’d lost some weight, his back was straight, and there was a new confidence about him. He was dressed in the height of Elizabethan fashion, all tights and padded jerkin and silk ruff. The ruff had been pulled low, to show off the stolen torc around his throat. The new style presumably came from his time at the Fae Court. The elves still affected the fashions of old England from when they’d last walked our earth. Partly because they’re stubborn, partly because they like to pretend humanity hadn’t changed since those days. Made it easier for them to look down on us. The Blue Fairy also wore a ceremonial breastplate of silver and brass, chased and pointed and curlicued to within an inch of its life and no doubt crawling with defensive magics and protections. I had to smile. Blue might think he was protected, but his armour was no match for mine.
Still, he looked . . . proud, arrogant, aristocratic. Very . . . elven.
“Being a thief and a traitor seems to agree with you,” I said finally. “You’re looking well, Blue. I’m pleased. Really. After all, where’s the fun in kicking the crap out of a sick old man?”
“How unkind,” said the Blue Fairy, fixing me with his best supercilious stare. “And I’m not a man; not anymore. I have put aside my humanity and embraced my elven heritage. It’s taken me many years to realise, but I was never cut out to be a man. To be just a man. I feel much more . . . me, as an elf.”
“We took you in,” I said. “Made you our guest in the Hall. Gave you a place among us, gave you a home and a purpose, respect and friends. And right in the middle of our war against the Hungry Gods, with the fate of the whole world in the balance . . . you stole a torc from us and ran away.”
“If you’re going to be an elf,” the Blue Fairy said easily, “go all the way. Or what’s the point?” He raised his left hand and ran the fingertips caressingly along the golden torc around his throat. “You should have told me, Eddie. You should have told me how the torc can make you feel . . . I never felt so alive. Like there’s nothing I can’t do.”
“You always were a sucker for a new drug, a new addiction,” I said. “Enjoy it while you can, Blue. I’ll take it back when I’m ready.” I considered him thoughtfully for a long moment, and he stirred uncomfortably under my gaze. I smiled. “What secrets did Alexander King offer you to sucker you into his game? Something you could use to protect you from the fury of the Droods?”
“I’m not alone anymore,” the Blue Fairy said defiantly. “I don’t need protecting. I have allies, support, and backing you wouldn’t believe.”
“Oh, please,” I said. “You really think the Fae Court will stand up for a taboo half-breed like you if the Drood family says, It’s him, or you?”
Give him credit, he actually managed a smile. “I’m not here to represent the Fae Court,” he said. “My allies are older and more powerful. I do not bend the knee to Titania and Oberon. I serve Queen Mab.”
I shuddered then, and it had nothing to do with the chill wind sweeping across the abandoned helicopter pad. Mab was an old name, and not a good one. If the long-exiled original Queen of Faerie was back, there would be fire and blood, death and destruction, and perhaps more than one world would be thrown down into horror and despair . . .
“You poor damned fool,” I said to the Blue Fairy, meaning it. “You never could resist backing an outsider, could you?”
He sneered at me, his face cold and inhuman. “Be afraid, Drood. Be very afraid. Now that Queen Mab has taken back the Ivory Throne from Titania and Oberon, she will lead the elves to a new destiny. We’re coming home, Eddie. All of us, all the elves that ever were, returning in power and glory to save the world from the savages who’ve ruined and spoiled it. We will trample humanity underfoot and stamp them back into the dirt they crawled out of.” He smiled suddenly, and it was not a human smile. “And just maybe, when we come, we’ll all be wearing torcs.”
This time, there was something in his voice that stopped me cold. But never let them know they’ve got you on the ropes. So I just stared calmly back at him and changed the subject.
“This is supposed to be a contest to find the greatest spy in the world,” I said. “Featuring the six greatest field agents operating today. So—and don’t take this the wrong way, Blue—what the hell are you doing here?”
“The young always forget that the old were young once,” said the Blue Fairy. “You only ever knew me as a broken old man, brought low by his own weaknesses, so you just assumed I’d always been like that. But back when I was your age, Eddie, I was a name to be reckoned with. I worked for anyone, for any cause, took on all the major players of the day with just my wits and a few craftily purloined weapons, and made them all cry like babies.”
“So what happened?” I said.
“What always happens. I got old, and I got slow,” said the Blue Fairy. His voice was dispassionate; he might have been talking about someone else. “I lost more cases than I won. I started leaning on the booze and the drugs to keep me sharp, to make me feel like I used to feel . . . It’s easy to fall off the edge, you know. All it takes is one really bad day and a disaster so bad you can’t lie to yourself anymore.” He looked at me almost pityingly. “I was just like you, Eddie. At the top of my game, convinced I had the world by the throat. It’s a long way to fall, and you wouldn’t believe how much it hurts when you hit the bottom. That’s your future, Eddie. That’s what you’ve got to look forward to.” He smiled suddenly. “But I have been given a second chance. The torc has made me young and sharp and alive again. I’m the player I used to be, the greatest field agent of my time.