Chapter 1
The terrain shuddered with an outgoing train, the spine-chilling howl of the whistle signaling its departure from the eastern banks of Budapest. The eastern side, Pest, could not have been more suitably named as that was exactly how the Buda/Fae side felt about us humans.
Pests.
Vermin.
Nuisances.
The squeal of the tracks shrieked through the dark, coating my skin with goosebumps. The night was unseasonably cold for late spring, causing a lacy fog to climb up the rails of the bridge, like the dead crawling up from their graves, slinking across the ground in hunt for life. The thick atmosphere pillowed the air raging through my lungs. My heart thumped in a tandem of fear and excitement, covering my tongue with the bitterness of adrenaline. Headlights glowed through the mist with an eerie luminosity in the deep witching hours. The conductor’s tall, willowy frame was outlined in the window, giving the impression the Grim Reaper was driving, his course set firmly ahead. It was his mission to cross the bridge without casualty.
The Margaret Bridge was split in half by an invisible border. The humans controlled the Pest side of Margaret Island; the fae owned the Buda side. But the bridge was not guarded, making it prime for raids. The train operators knew to be on alert thanks to people like me.
Thieves.
I was the worst kind. I didn’t do it to save my family from poverty or because I needed the money. I did it because I could. For the thrill. To confirm how good I was at it. Some might say I was a Robin Hood of sorts, taking profit from the rich fae and humans, who used the poor and desperate as their labor horses. That was complete bullshit. I did it because I loved the high, the danger it brought my controlled world. I was exceptional at sneaking quickly through the night, which filled me with something I never got a lot at home. Pride.
The night trains were partially used for travelers journeying to other towns and countries. The other part held cargo picked up in the neutral zone before heading to Prague, where the goods would be traded or sold, the money going straight into the pockets of the already exceedingly wealthy.
“In ten,” I whispered to Caden, his tall form hunched next to me behind a dilapidated souvenir shop. It had been years since tourists came here, back when Budapest flourished with foreign money and travelers. That all ended the day I was born. My birth not only killed my mother but had also marked the deaths of millions of humans, the world as they knew it, and was the beginning of the end for this country.
I carried that weight every day.
“In eight.” Similar to a lion creeping up on its prey, I slunk closer, my dark clothes hiding me in the shadows, my long black hair tucked back into my beanie. I pulled down my balaclava, covering my face, only eyes and mouth visible. A knife was strapped to my side. I had yet to use it or even pull it out on any runs. My talent was not robbing head-on but slipping in and out like a ghost. The conductors didn’t even realize they had been robbed until I was long gone and back in my bed.
I was the top fighter in my class because of my talent for sneaking up on people, even if they knew I was there. Caden was always in awe of this ability. I was average height, but years of training had my figure fit and slight, able to slink in and out of tiny places like a reedy cat.
“Five,” I whispered, leaning on my toes, ready to pounce.
“Brex,” he murmured my nickname in my ear, casting shivers down the back of my neck. Instead of the train, my focus turned to the proximity of his mouth, my gaze sliding down to his lips and jaw as he pulled down his face mask.
Clearing my throat, I turned forward.
“Can’t back out now, Markos.” I used his last name, forcing back the butterflies in my stomach determined to upset the fragile balance between my best friend and me. We had been inseparable since we were children, when the differences between boys and girls were far less, and when I didn’t want to find out how his lips felt on mine or feel his hands on my body. “Not like you haven’t done this before.”
“I know, but if we ever got caught… My father...” He shook his head. The ski mask covered most of his gorgeous features and silky brown hair. In the sun, it looked like rich, warm soil, the kind you’d find in a desert, with sparks of reddish-brown I longed to run my fingers through.
The train curved on the track, heading for the Margaret Bridge. End to end, it was two minutes and twenty seconds. We had to be off before it reached the other side.
The fae side.
My heart rapped against my ribs, telling me in code I was an idiot. I was good, remarkable even, but if something happened and we were caught by the fae? Tossing out the thought, I primed my legs, seeing the last few cars coming up the track.
“Now!” Keeping low, I scurried for the back of the train, my legs kicking back, picking up speed. The traveling coaches were the first ones, leaving the back ones holding cargo. Easier to unhook in Prague while the front carriages continued on their journey.
Leaping for the step, I landed soundlessly and skipped up, leaving the stair clear for Caden to jump on.
His boots clanked against the metal, his hands gripping the handles as sweat dripped from under his mask. My concentration faltered as I pulled out my favorite fae device—a very high-tech lock pick, which I pinched from our impound room at headquarters. The magic easily unlatched any kind of locks, which made it illegal and only found on the black market.
Caden climbed up, all six feet of him moving beside me as I stood, stuffing the device back in my pocket. He pulled at the door handle, opening the entrance to the carriage.
This was the fifth time we had raided a train. Caden tried to hide the fact that my kind of fun terrified the hell out of him. He never backed down or tried to dissuade me, but his taut expression when I brought it up told me he did not enjoy it at all. But Caden Markos would be the last person to admit fear, to ever back down from a challenge.
His father did not allow weakness.
He peered down at his wrist, tapping his watch. “You have a minute forty. Clock is on. Go.”
I nodded, slipping into the car, knowing exactly where to head. The laborers loading the carts weren’t creative and probably didn’t care what happened to the cargo once it left the warehouses. They would never see a quarter of the money these products earned.
Blood rushed into my ears as I beelined for the crates most likely loaded with magic-infused pharmaceutical and recreational drugs. Hard drugs were illegal in most of the Western world—the Unified Nations it was now called—the countries under the rule of Lars, the Unseelie King, and Kennedy, the Seelie Queen. But here, if it could make money, it was fair game. This shit sold on the black market for millions, and the richest, most powerful people here were profiting off it.
My connection at HDF—Human Defense Forces—helped me put a nugget of it back in the hands of the individuals who worked in labor shops. Let them sell it on the streets and earn extra money to get the medicine for their child’s illness or pay rent for their run-down homes. Some thought the mysterious hero who robbed the trains, giving back to the poor, was some kind of vigilante—one of them.
I wasn’t.
I was one of the elite, one of those humans who lived within the protected walls of the area called Leopold, a twelve-block section between the bridges going out to the old Bajcsy-Zsilinszky road, where HDF had taken up residence in the old parliament building on the Pest side. Stuffed with military and the rich, the HDF’s main goal was to gain power over the fae, which was a daily struggle against their magic and supremacy, fueling an impending war between the two sides.