Blood, Smoke and Mirrors (2010) Read Online Free PDF

other."
    "Only one? That can't be good. Who is it?"
    "Don't know. We'll find out soon enough." Portia shrugged.
    Too soon, in my opinion. The base of the hill grew closer and closer with each step we took. My stomach dropped down somewhere between my knees and I swallowed hard. I had to be crazy to be doing this. For one, I was too young to be Titania. I wasn't even thirty yet. I didn't want to go into politics. This was just insanity.
    There was no visible entrance, but I didn't expect to see one, not yet anyway. Portia and I continued on in silence until I felt her hand on my arm. Stopping in my tracks, I glanced over at her. She launched herself into the air once again and fluttered ahead of me. A low rumble like distant thunder emanated from the base of the hill, and the ground swelled and split. Dirt and uprooted chunks of sod tumbled up and away to reveal a large wooden door covered with intricate carvings of intertwined roots and vegetables. Decorative potatoes, who knew? With a graceful wave of her hand the door swung open, smooth and soundless, and Portia flew inside. I followed behind, struggling to keep my expression neutral and my nerves calm.
    The smell of faerie magic almost overpowered me as I stepped through the doorway, so much so that it made my eyes water. Walking into the mound was like stepping into a cinnamon-roll factory set for high production. Portia led me down the hallway, a long corridor with walls of rough earth that were common for the inside of a mound. Tiny balls of light bobbed up and down near the ceiling as though floating in a lazy river, casting everything in a soft glow. I was a little unnerved by the quiet hush surrounding us, broken only by the soft whisper of her wings and the clomping of my heavy boots. Most faerie dwellings are constantly filled with noise--they really dislike silence. In addition to that we ought to have run into members of the Underhill clan by now.
    "Where is everyone?" I whispered.
    "Just wait."
    Great . It wasn't like Portia to be ominous, or quiet for that matter. A wave of nausea rolled through my stomach, and I did some mental bargaining with it to keep it steady. Losing my lunch in a strange clan's home would not be a polite way to introduce myself.
    Finally we reached an enormous set of double doors, ridiculously large by faerie standards and even pushing the limits of human ones. They were covered in runes I couldn't read, but I knew this had to be their great hall. Portia fluttered behind me and hovered just over my right shoulder, placing her hand upon it and giving it an encouraging squeeze. The doors opened at a ponderous rate, revealing the room in slow degrees. My breath whooshed out of my lungs in astonishment, and I stood slack-jawed and gaped at the assembled faeries. The entire clan had turned out, as well as members of several others. I scanned the crowd for familiar faces and caught the eye of Tybalt, Portia's older brother, and he gave me a big grin. Good to know I had some people on my side.
    I could barely make out the other end of the hall. Some days it sucks extra hard to be nearsighted, and it reminded me that I needed a new set of glasses. Squinting, I managed to spy three large chairs--no, thrones. The faeries had brought in their Council of Three to oversee the proceedings. The temptation to draw my sword and fall upon it suddenly seemed like an appealing idea. It would be quicker and far less painful than the fate that would await me when my stupid mouth said the wrong thing and pissed off their leaders.
    Every faction of magical society is governed by their own Council of Three. Witches, sorcerers, vampires, shapeshifters, everybody. Larger populations have more than one council, each in charge of a certain region. There's only one faerie Council of Three responsible for dealing with North America, and they were sitting in those chairs. Portia gave my shoulder a bump, and with my heart in my throat I made my way into the hall. The