Shadowglass: The Shadowfae Chronicles - By Erica Hayes

Praise for the Shadowfae Chronicles by Erica Hayes

“In this seductive tale of alternate reality . . . Hayes uses real settings as a backdrop where gangsters and killers mix with well-defined supernatural characters in an intriguing and tense first-person plot. Add in sizzling sex scenes and dark humor, and this one will take you on a wild ride.”—RT Book Reviews (four stars)

“Readers will thoroughly enjoy this entertaining tale of forbidden love. Erica Hayes has a great future ahead of her as a bestselling author.”—Genre Go Round Reviews

“Intriguingly dark . . . compellingly emotional and intense. Urban fantasy readers will love the atmosphere.”—Publishers Weekly

“Hot, spicy, and well rounded, and the characters were awesome. . . . Great work Erica, I’m waiting for the next round!”—Tynga’s Urban Fantasy Reviews

“A thrilling and darkly erotic tale of betrayal, passion, and redemption, Shadowfae is a rich novel that will ensnare the senses with lush prose and a deadly vision of the Fae that conjures up fairy tales of old.”—Caitlin Kittredge, bestselling author of Second Skin

“Shadowfae is a mind-bending blast into a darkness that enfolds and ensnares you from the first page. . . . Pure magic from the word go.”—Bitten by Books






St. Martin’s Griffin

New York

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations,

and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the

author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

SHADOWGLASS. Copyright © 2010 by Erica Hayes. All rights reserved.

Printed in the United States of America. For information, address

St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Hayes, Erica.

Shadowglass / Erica Hayes.—1st ed.

p. cm.

ISBN 978-0-312-57801-5

1. Fairies—Fiction. 2. Magic mirrors—Fiction. I. Title.

PR9619.4.H394S54 2010

823’.92—dc22 2009033888

First Edition: March 2010

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1



Stolen diamond bracelets glittered on my wrists in colored nightclub lights, and I laughed, my wings swelling damp in the warm crush of bodies. Midnight at Unseelie Court, dark and fragrant with smoke and sweat. Music ripped my ears like sweet razors, so loud, the air thudded in my lungs and my hair shook to the beat. Strobe lights sliced me, snapshots in time as I danced—here, there, gone.

Blaze wrapped his long white arm around my waist, spilling flames on my shoulder from soft crimson hair. I grinned and wriggled closer, his hot firefae flesh a delicious glory on my skin. Dancing, drinking, diamonds I don’t own. Doesn’t get sweeter than this.

The floor’s packed tonight, a mash of bright fairy wings and rainbow limbs and slick vampire smiles, the air steamy with breath and lust and chemical euphoria. Humans here, too, a few sly ones who can see, but mostly shimmer-eyed and drunk on poison glamour, here for the oblivion. A heady bubble of unreality, this club—no thought, no consequences. Kiss, embrace, dance, love, drown your cares in glorious sensory nectar. A fairy kind of place, no rules, no guilt, the air so glassy with glamour, it might shatter.

Even the name is a fairy joke: Unseelie Court. We fae have no court, no queen or princes or justice. We leave that to demons, gangsters, people who matter.

The smell alone warmed my insides. I’m waterfae, which makes me attuned to moisture, and the wet scent of all that pleasure pressed a sweet ache deep inside me. I shimmied on the crowded dance floor, my silky skirt sticking to my thighs, and lifted my arms in the candy white smoke. My new diamonds sparkled over my wrists, painted blue and green and scarlet by flashing lights. We’d filched them tonight from a glossy apartment in South Yarra, along with a pile of cash and other trinkets.

My skin glowed blue with desire. Shiny things get me all warm and wriggly. I won’t get to keep them. We owe the Valenti gang too much protection money. But just for tonight, they’re mine. And what harm ever came from something shiny?

Behind me, Blaze rubbed his cheek against my wing, sparks drifting from his pretty red hair. Ooh, tingles, all down my side like sugar. I flexed my shoulders, fluttering golden dust that danced in manic spotlights and rippled in the brittle static of glamour. Blaze is my best friend, a dazzling firefae boy with cute muscles and a cheeky sharp-toothed smile, and his glamour is good. I mean, it’s really good. Humans won’t see the fine crimson wings like a dragonfly’s, the flame dripping from his fingers, his narrow fae-muscled body. They just see a cute redhead with wicked black eyes.

Me? Well, I do my best, but glamour isn’t my