Shadow Fae: Books 3 & 4

As a Knight of the Shadow Fae, I’m tasked with defending the Institute. I’m deep into a world of dark magic, orgiastic death cults, and demon roller discos.

But my new life begins with an impossible choice: turn over Ruadan within twenty-four hours, or my nemesis will unleash the Black Death. Worse, my old gladiator master is threatening to reveal my identity. If the truth gets out, I’ll be out of the Institute faster than you can say "wrath of an incubus."

If I can't find and kill my oldest enemy in time, then it's the Black Death for everyone, and I’ll be back on the run once more.

I stared at the gruesome offering, bile rising in my throat. Someone had nailed a human arm to one of the exterior doors of the Institute—driven the spike right through the palm, onto the wooden door. 


It smelled like a fresh kill. Sticky blood oozed down the severed elbow, dripping onto the pavement. Frowning at it, I clutched the straps of my bug-out bag. Touching severed body parts wasn’t my favorite way to spend the day. 


And yet I had to move the thing, because behind the hand, a blank piece of paper hung on the door. A note, probably? Given the method of delivery, I could only assume it was important, and probably not something nice like a thank-you card.


Grimacing, I pulled at the nail. My stomach churned at the faint slithering sound it made, my hand brushing against the cold flesh. Thick blood coated the tips of my fingers. When I had pulled the nail all the way out, the arm fell to the pavement with a wet thud. 


I snatched the paper and flipped it over, finding a letter scrawled in blood. 
As I read its contents, my pulse pounded in my ears. 


Arianna,

Tomorrow night, deliver Ruadan to me. He should wait for me outside the Institute’s gate, unarmed and wearing iron cuffs. Fail, and London will suffer the Great Mortality once more. In case you think I don’t possess that power, I’ve already started with a small population on the Isle of Dogs. 
I’ll wait till nine at night tomorrow, then everyone dies.
And Arianna, my darling. If you fail me, I’ll let everyone know what you really are. How long will you survive, then?

Love,
Baleros