Chapter 15 – Fallen and Found

Backup Strategies

Kate’s POV

The day began with the usual routine—sparring with Marcus and Cyrus in the cool shade of the garden, a breakfast of toast slathered with jam and flaky pastries from the bakery around the corner, accompanied by a colorful array of fresh fruits and steaming coffee – though I still couldn’t fathom how Marcus could function on that much caffeine. The man must be trying to raise the dead with the strength of his brew. This was followed by more saintly research and power training, a necessary evil in this world of shadows and monsters.

The morning’s activities had taken their toll, leaving us hungry and in need of refreshment. The heat was stifling, so we opted for a cold spread of crusty baguettes, cured meats, cheeses, and a colorful array of fresh vegetables from the nearby market. The food was delicious, but the constant barrage of questions and concerned glances from Cyrus made it hard to enjoy. A girl could only take so much coddling before wanting to scream. I swear, the man needed a new hobby.

As we ate, the sight of a plastic bag leaning against the wall triggered a sudden memory. “Oh, right!” I exclaimed, an excited grin spreading across my face. “I almost forgot about this.” I reached into the bag and pulled out a sleek, new laptop, the metallic casing glinting in the sunlight.

“Finally setting that thing up, huh?” Cyrus remarked, nodding towards the laptop. “I was starting to think it was just a really fancy cutting board.”

“If you’ll excuse me,” I said, rising from the table, “I have some important business to attend to with this shiny new toy. I’m going to be holed up in my room for a while, so don’t bother me unless it’s absolutely necessary.” Cyrus opened his mouth to protest, but Marcus nudged him with an elbow, a silent warning to let me go. With a final wave, I retreated to my room.

The house’s Wi-Fi, however, was a whole other issue. It was as reliable as a politician’s promise, prone to disappearing acts and sudden bouts of amnesia. But hey, at least I had a laptop and internet access. That was more than I could say for the last safe house.

With a sigh of relief, I confirmed that my files – a chaotic mix of archeological notes, linguistic analyses, and my mother’s cryptic research – were all safely backed up in the cloud. “Take that, Murphy’s Law!” I thought triumphantly, feeling a surge of victory over the demons with a taste for technology. It was my dad, always the forward-thinker, who had insisted on cloud storage after my last laptop met its untimely demise during an excavation in Greece. My new toy was a shiny, sleek machine, a far cry from the clunky relic that had met its demise at the hands (or claws?) of those pesky demons.

A mix of indignation and fascination fueled my next move: a deep dive into the lore of the Fae. I needed to understand what I was dealing with, especially after Liam’s manipulative yet undeniably seductive use of his powers.

My fingers hammered against the keyboard, each click a staccato beat of frustration and morbid curiosity. The more I delved into the labyrinth of Fae lore, the more my stomach churned with a mixture of dread and reluctant fascination. These creatures were the stuff of nightmares and fever dreams, their powers as enchanting as they were terrifying.

I leaned back in my chair, stretching my arms overhead with a groan. “Masters of illusion and trickery,” I muttered to myself, paraphrasing one particularly ominous passage. “More like narcissistic con artists with a flair for the dramatic.”

The texts painted a vivid picture of a race obsessed with power, their motives as fickle as the wind. They were creatures of insatiable hunger, drawn to sources of power like moths to a flame. And unfortunately for me, I was a walking, talking bonfire. A chill ran down my spine as I realized the implications. Me, with my newfound saintly powers, was essentially a walking buffet for these ethereal predators.

“Great,” I grumbled, raking my fingers through my hair. “Just what I need. Another reason for things to go sideways.”

I scrolled through page after page of warnings and cautionary tales. Don’t reveal your true name. Damnit, I thought. I alreadytoldLiam my name. Never accept a gift. Beware their honeyed words and seductive promises. Done and done. My mind flashed back to Liam’s kiss, the intoxicating warmth of his touch lingering on my skin like a brand. Had Liam’s kiss been a gift? A curse? Both?

“Too late for that,” I sighed, a pang of frustration mixing with the lingering thrill of his forbidden touch. Damn it, why hadn’t Marcus or Cyrus bothered to mention any of this before I practically offered myself up on a silver platter?

I leaned forward, my eyes scanning the screen with renewed urgency. I needed to understand these creatures, their strengths and weaknesses, their rules and rituals. Because one thing was certain: Liam wasn’t going anywhere. And I had to be prepared, or he would eat me up alive – literally and figuratively, with extra whipped cream and a cherry on top.

The thought of Liam’s kiss, a potent blend of sweetness and danger, sent a tremor through me. It had been a violation, a manipulation of my senses. Yet, the memory lingered, a tantalizing feeling that both intrigued and terrified me. He was the embodiment of everything I’d read about the Fae: alluring, dangerous, and utterly unpredictable. I had to understand this power he wielded, this magic that had so easily bypassed my defenses. Saintly powers, huh? I thought, rolling my eyes. More like a magnet for trouble.

With a determined sigh, I pushed aside thoughts of the Fae and refocused on my own research. I still had a world of shadows and secrets to uncover, and a dangerously charming creature to understand.

As I synched the folder with my mother’s research from the cloud, a wave of nostalgia washed over me. My mom, an anthropologist extraordinaire, had always been obsessed with her own Romanian roots. Her notes and research files were a testament to her dedication, a labyrinth of anthropological observations, meticulous sketches, and linguistic analyses that would make even the most seasoned scholar’s head spin. Seriously, Mom, did you ever sleep? I thought with a fond smile.

She was convinced the Dacians held the key to understanding the mystical connection between nature and spirituality, a connection that now resonated with my own newfound saintly abilities. But her research had been tragically cut short, leaving behind a trail of unanswered questions and a daughter desperate for answers.

With a heavy heart and a caffeine-fueled determination, I dove headfirst into her digital archives, a chaotic symphony of folders and subfolders. It was like trying to find a needle in a haystack, only the needle was a cryptic clue and the haystack was a convoluted maze of academic jargon. Thanks for the organized filing system, Mom, I muttered under my breath, navigating through a digital labyrinth of “Field Notes_v12_final_FINAL” and “Dacian Rituals_draft7_revised_FINAL_v2.”

Hours blurred into a whirlwind of symbols, translations, and cultural cross-references. My eyes burned, my brain throbbed, and my stomach growled in protest. But just as I was about to give up and ask the guys if we could order some pizza (extra cheese, obviously), a flicker of recognition ignited a spark of hope. Some of the symbols etched into the mysterious tablet we had unearthed mirrored those found in my mother’s research on ancient Dacian rituals. Bingo!

My heart pounded like a drum solo in a heavy metal concert. Could there be a connection? I wondered, a thrill of excitement coursing through me. Could Mom’s disappearance really be linked to this artifact? The thought sent a shiver down my spine, a blend of fear and anticipation.

I fired off a quick message to Elena, my partner-in-crime at the dig site. “Hey Elena,” I typed, trying to sound casual. “How’s the dirt treating you? Found any more ancient treasures without me?”

Her reply was almost instantaneous. “Kate! Where are you? Everything’s fine here, just a lot less fun without you. How are things on your end?”

“Oh, you know, just hanging out with a couple of demon hunters and trying not to get kidnapped by Fae,” I thought, but decided a simple “It’s complicated” would have to suffice for now. “I had to take care of some unexpected personal matters.”

“Well, hurry back!” she typed back. “We’ve uncovered a few more interesting artifacts, but nothing as mind-blowing as that tablet Dan found.”

A surge of adrenaline propelled me back to my research. “Speaking of the tablet,” I typed, my fingers practically dancing across the keyboard, “would you mind sending me some clear photos of the symbols? It might help with my ‘personal matters’.”

Elena obliged, and within minutes, my inbox was flooded with high-resolution images. I compared them to the symbols in my mother’s notes, my heart skipping a beat with each match. The similarities were undeniable. It was like finding a hidden message in a bottle, a breadcrumb trail leading me closer to the truth.

As I continued my research, I stumbled upon another clue: an email from my mother, sent just days before her disappearance, to a friend in Italy. She had mentioned plans to visit a former monastery near Turin, rumored to house ancient Dacian relics. The monastery was located in the same region where she had vanished without a trace.

A cold dread settled in the pit of my stomach. The pieces of the puzzle were coming together, forming a picture that was both terrifying and a sliver of hope. My mother’s research, the mysterious tablet, my awakening powers, and her disappearance—they were all connected. And I was determined to find out how, no matter the cost. Mom, I’m soon coming for you.

I closed the laptop with a sigh, leaning back in my chair with a weary groan. My mind was buzzing with newfound knowledge of the Fae and the potential proof I had found that there really was a connection between my powers and my mother’s disappearance. “Finished already?”  A husky purr vibrated through the air. “I find your dedication to knowledge quite… captivating.”

I whipped around, my heart pounding, but the room was empty. “Great,” I muttered, rolling my eyes. “Now I’m hearing voices. Next, it’ll be poltergeists rearranging my sock drawer.”

A low chuckle filled the air, seeming to emanate from the very walls themselves. “Your socks can rest easy, sweetheart. I’m far more interested in those lacy little nothings in your top drawer.”

My head snapped up, searching for the source of the voice. “Liam?” I whispered, my eyes scanning the room for any sign of the mischievous Fae.

“In the flesh,” he replied, his voice a teasing caress against my eardrums. “Or rather, in the spirit.”

“Where are you?” I demanded, my voice rising a notch. “Show yourself!”

“Ah, ah, ah,” he chided playfully. “Not so fast, darling. Can’t you see I’m respecting your boundaries? This charming little house of yours is quite the fortress. Wouldn’t want to trespass without an invitation, now would we?” He paused, and I could practically hear the eye roll in his voice. “Whoever designed these wards clearly has a flair for the dramatic. A bit excessive, don’t you think?”

Relief washed over me, followed by a wave of irritation. “So you’re just going to lurk outside my window like a creepy stalker?”

“Only until you invite me in,” he purred. “Don’t worry, love, I’m a patient man. Or Fae, as the case may be. But even my patience has its limits…”

His words trailed off, leaving a chilling silence in their wake. Cyrus’s words about the previous safe house being “safe as Fort Knox” echoed in my mind. He’d practically guaranteed the cabin’s safety, and within hours, it had turned into a demon-infested death trap. So much for his expertise.

“Liam,” I began hesitantly, “can… can barriers just suddenly fail without a reason?”

His voice sharpened, a hint of suspicion creeping in. “Why do you ask, Kate?”

I fumbled for an answer, not wanting to reveal too much. “Just… curious,” I mumbled, cursing myself for my slip.

“Curious, are we?” he mused. “Tell me, love, where were you staying before this lovely little cottage?”

Damn, he was good. “A cabin in the woods,” I admitted reluctantly. ” I was part of an archaeological team working nearby.”

“And the wards there… they failed?”

I swallowed, my heart pounding. “Yes.”

A pause, then a low whistle. “Interesting. Very interesting indeed. If those wards were anything like the ones on this house, they should have held for centuries. Someone must have tampered with them.”

My mind reeled with questions. Who could have sabotaged the wards? Was it a demon, or something else entirely? “Any idea what might have caused it?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

“Your guess is as good as mine, love,” he purred, amusement evident in his tone. “But if those wards were as impressive as these…” He trailed off, a hint of curiosity lacing his voice. “But if you’d like to satisfy my curiosity, and perhaps your own, I’d be happy to investigate. Perhaps a visit to this… cabin of yours would shed some light on the matter.”

I hesitated. Trusting a Fae was a risky proposition, but my desperation for answers outweighed my caution. “The cabin is deep in the woods, about a three-hour hike from our dig site near Sarmizegetusa Regia,” I explained, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Details, darling, details,” he chided. “But don’t worry, I have my ways of finding things. Let’s just say I have a… nose for trouble. And something tells me this little cabin of yours is overflowing with it.”

A shiver ran down my spine, not entirely unpleasant. “And what do you want in return for your help?” I asked, steeling myself for the inevitable.

His laughter echoed through the night, a sound both seductive and chilling. “So, you’ve been doing your homework, I see. The opportunity to converse with such a captivating creature is reward enough, my dear. And perhaps the satisfaction of seeing those demon-hunting buffoons squirm when they find out I’ve been fraternizing with their precious saint.”

He was a devil, that much was certain. But he was also my only hope. “Don’t get too excited,” I retorted, my voice firm. “This is a one-time deal. You help me, and then we’re done. No strings attached.”

A low whistle filled the air, followed by a sly chuckle. “Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it, darling. For now.” His voice took on a teasing lilt. “But I have a feeling you’ll be calling on me again sooner than you think. And when you do…” he paused, letting the implication hang in the air, “let’s just say I’ll expect a more… enticing reward. Expect me by tomorrow eve, my dear. And until then, dream of me.”

With a final chuckle, his voice faded away, leaving me alone with my racing thoughts and the unsettling realization that I might have just agreed to the most dangerous bet of my life.

With a final chuckle, his voice faded away, leaving me alone with my racing thoughts and the unsettling realization that I had just made a pact with a Fae. But desperate times called for desperate measures. And I was willing to do whatever it took to figure out the truth, even if it meant dancing with the devil himself.