Undeading Bells (Fred Book 6)

by Hayes, Drew

  4.

  Even knowing what I knew, it was hard not to be afraid as I watched the swirling white vortex below. This had clearly been a trap laid by Hellebore, and we were in an entirely different point in reality. What if the healing didn’t work? What if the fey had found a way to limit Krystal’s power, cut her off from the source, and this was how they took her out? Eyes against the cold pane, I waited, reminding myself exactly who it was I was fretting over.

  For all the faith I had in her, it was still a relief when I saw the sudden flare leap up from the ground, sailing through the sky to land on the blizzard behemoth’s lower front leg. It was hard to make out Krystal’s small form from so far up; however, her burning hair gave away that she’d once more tapped into the power of the devil sealed within. It was an inherited burden, one passed from mother to daughter through generations, but it was also what kept her safe. To kill the host was to kill the creature sealed within, and devils apparently weren’t keen to go down easily. I only knew that from reputation—I’d never actually met one, thankfully. They were the sort of problems that arose rarely and were on the plate of people far more capable.

  “Would you care for a better view?”

  In watching for Krystal, I’d forgotten Hellebore was even there. Turning around, I found that we were no longer alone. A host of small fey had appeared, each moving too quietly for even my ears to have picked up more than the barest whisper, carrying an array of foods and liquids. They set the smorgasbord down on tables that rose from the floor, usually halting their growth mere seconds before the plates were set down. It was what I imagined a ballet set in a restaurant would look like.

  While the others prepared the tables, Hellebore’s attention was on the large pane of ice lowering from the ceiling. Massive and smooth, I realized its purpose only seconds before the picture flared on.

  Despite Krystal’s warning about chitchat, the floating pane of ice was a bit too much to resist. “You made a magical flat-screen?”

  The device put the highest of definitions to shame. I could see Krystal perfectly while she clung to the giant creature’s leg, slowly climbing upward. Flaming hair, nails and teeth like obsidian, she was far past human. It had been years since I saw her this way, and I was a bit surprised to realize it didn’t scare me like it had the last time. I’d learned too much about what people were versus how they looked; to me, this was nothing more than an aesthetic shift.

  “Or humans made a technological versions of a simple ice-screen,” Hellebore replied. “The truth is a bit of both. We’ve used the screens for ages, but it required humanity’s predilection for excess to utilize the idea in some of its newer fashions.”

  I genuinely had no idea what to make of that reply. Was she making small talk? Offering an olive branch of conversation while Krystal fought to save June? The whole situation was so turned around and convoluted, I had no real hope of cracking into Hellebore’s true motivations. In a fortunate twist of fate, this meant my only real option was just to play everything straight and treat the conversation like it was just that: idle chatter.

  Unthinking, I reached for a plate with what looked like slices of steak, save the scent did not match any meats I’d encountered before. There was always the chance it was some sort of wild game, but as my fingers drew close, they suddenly halted before picking a piece up. A flood of tales about the danger of eating foods in other realms had just burst through my brain, giving me second thoughts about casual snacking.

  “The food is safe, Fredrick Fletcher. You are my guest, and it is offered freely. There is no debt incurred by hospitality already granted.” Despite the words, Hellebore hadn’t actually looked in my direction; she was still watching the screen.

  On it, Krystal was climbing the leg, her searing claws carving handholds into its flesh. Unfortunately, the pain was drawing the creature’s attention. I could already see the enormous body shifting as its head began the long journey of swinging around. I really hoped she had some sort of power or plan for dodging, because there was no way she’d get all the way up before the blizzard behemoth could blast her.

  While part of me was hesitant, I also didn’t think it was a good idea to belittle or ignore the graces of a fey host, so I picked up the slice of meat, which was lain atop some toasted bread, and chomped down. It was both incredibly good and definitely not any animal I’d ever had before—I could tell by something about the tang of the meat and the chew of the fat. Good, delicious, but off in ways I couldn’t quite articulate. Taking another piece, I also helped myself to what looked like the clearest water I’d ever seen in my life, held in a goblet of exquisite ice. Not a lot of variety in the theme, go figure.

  “You really sent one person against that thing?” I wandered over to the screen, where whatever magical camera was in use had pulled back, giving a wider view of the trouble heading Krystal’s way.

  “Certainly not. That would be suicide for all but one of the royal blood. I sent an agent against the blizzard behemoth; surely you know how fearsome their reputation is.” Maybe it was because Krystal was gone, or she just didn’t care what I thought, but there was practically an aura of satisfaction around Hellebore as she landed that line. Perhaps the reputation of the Agency bothered her for some reason.

  This was probably where I should have let things lie. In another context, I very well might have, too. But Krystal was out there fighting a giant monster to save our friend; at the bare minimum, I could conjure the courage for conversation in the hopes of uncovering something useful.

  “It didn’t have to be June.”

  For the first time since Krystal had left, Hellebore’s eyes flitted briefly in my direction. “You think I have a list of agents that can be summoned to serve at a moment’s notice?”

  “I think anyone cunning enough to gain a favor from the Blood Council has the wits to obtain plenty more from other, less challenging sources. Meaning that yes, Hellebore, you probably do have a list of people you can fetch at a moment’s notice, some of whom I presume are even stronger than agents.”

  I was not blind to the hint of accusation I was presenting, which was why I’d been sure to frame it all as a compliment. Hopefully, she wouldn’t find a way to take offense at me praising her intellect and resources.

  “That would depend on the agent, I suppose.” Her eyes were back on the screen, and mine soon followed.

  The blizzard behemoth was glaring down at Krystal like a dog spotting a tick. It was clear what was coming—to us and, apparently, to Krystal, who adjusted her position, putting the bulk of the leg between herself and the head. As it swung around, she leapt up and over, gaining height and a fresh position of cover as she clawed her way onto new patches of flesh. On a normal creature, it would have worked, forcing the animal to try from another angle as it reoriented. Unfortunately, the leg began to rise, lifting up along the blizzard behemoth’s body, free of any joints or spinal structure. It was more like a growth, apparently, one that could be moved around the body as needed. The whole thing started to spin, putting Krystal in point-blank range for a blast of slush.

  There were limits to her power—we’d talked about that before. In this form, she could die for real. If something was strong enough to overwhelm her, she’d be gone for good, along with her unseen prisoner. I had no idea what those limits were, or where a blizzard behemoth fell on that scale. Sure, it was huge, but Gideon lived as a child. Looks weren’t everything in the parahuman world.

  “Is this what you wanted? Krystal facing defeat, humbled for some slight against the fey?”

  “You must be mistaken. I summoned June Windbrook for the task; Krystal Jenkins joined of her own free will.” For a moment, it seemed like Hellebore would stick to the story—until she kept going. “One could certainly invent their own, were they so inclined. Wild, slanderous accusations, such as that I knew Krystal would follow when June was taken and was prepared for the two of you. As to what purpose, now, that is where your conjecture falls apart. The blizza
rd behemoth is a challenge and a danger, but it would be hard-pressed to actually kill either June or Krystal, so my intention cannot be murder. A more charitable theory, also clearly an incorrect one, might be that this was all set up as a wedding present, of sorts.”

  I’d been keeping up with her obfuscation for the most part; however, that final sentence momentarily stalled my brain out completely. “A wedding present?”

  “Every partner should see the other as they truly are before binding their lives together.”

  In spite of her best efforts, Krystal couldn’t keep up with the moving leg; the creature she was fighting controlled the very “ground” she was clutching. It waited until she’d jumped to the side and landed, twisting the leg as her grip caught. There was no chance to dodge this time: Krystal vanished in the vomit of slush, and the explosion of snow and ice that followed.

  “Hang on, that’s what this is all about? Seeing her devil form? I did that forever ago. Back when we first started dating.” I waved at the screen, truly hoping we’d just hit upon a misunderstanding that could put everything to a halt. “None of this is necessary, if that’s your aim.”

  As the recent wave of snow cleared, I could see a huge chunk of ice tumbling down the behemoth’s body. I’d have known it was Krystal from context, even without the wisp of steam rising from the surface and small trickles of water running down the side. She was still in there, trying to melt her way out. But as the ice chunk tumbled, I noticed that the water quickly refroze. The very environment was against her out there, making the job of escape all the more impossible.

  “You really think that is the form that earns Agent Jenkins such a reputation?” Hellebore looked as though she might actually break out into laughter. “She is called in when force is demanded most, when raw power is what is needed to deal with a threat. Given all you’ve seen of the parahuman world, does fast healing, burning hair, and deadly claws truly feel like they warrant that much reverence?”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I am saying that today, by sheer happenstance, you may get to see the true form of your betrothed. The one she can let out when there is nobody else around to endanger. Once you do, only then will you have proper insight into the woman you intend to marry. If nothing else, you’ll have a better appreciation for why it’s so silly that you’re actually worried for her.”

  I’d have asked for clarity from Hellebore, save for the fact that it wasn’t needed. On our screen, steam stopped rising from the Krystal ice-container. Instead, something inside the frozen prison was glowing with a dark, unnatural light. The ice cracked once, a massive split running at a diagonal across the surface, then exploded outward into burning, quickly melting chunks.

  Standing there, wreathed with purple-black flames, stood a being that was almost recognizable as my fiancée. The wings and horns certainly didn’t help, though.

  5.

  The dark, obsidian material of her claws and teeth now coated the majority of Krystal’s body like armor, culminating in a pair of sharp horns that jutted from her forehead. Around her, the snow was burning off at a rapid clip, no amount of cold capable of matching the heat rippling off of her in this form. Her purple-black flames danced across the armored body, flaring and contracting, obliterating everything they touched. Despite how dramatic the transformation was, it was the wings that stole the show.

  Each was the same color as her flames, four wings extending from her back, forming a rough “X” across her figure. They flapped a single time, and a wave of heat eroded the snow in a line in front of her. As she got comfortable, her flames grew. Brighter, larger—she wanted to attract the behemoth’s attention. I had a hunch this round wouldn’t go the same way.

  “Well?”

  I realized that, inadvertently, I’d been ignoring Hellebore’s attention, too focused on the screen to notice she was waiting for something.

  “Well, what?” I turned, the edges of my patience fraying slightly. “Did you expect wailing and gnashing of teeth? Sudden remorse? Terror? Did you think for one actual second that I have even the slightest of concerns about what Krystal is? Let me put it plainly, then. I love that woman, regardless of what forms she can change into, or what sorts of abilities she has. Krystal uses that strength to stand up for people who can’t protect themselves, and that will always matter worlds more to me than some powers she possesses. The life she lives tells me who Krystal is; that is nothing more than cosmetics.”

  I jerked my thumb to the screen, where Krystal had begun to take flight, lifting from the ground slowly as an expanding circle of melted snow grew from her epicenter. “And what really gets my goat is you already know that, Hellebore. Whatever game you’re playing, this obviously wasn’t your real goal.”

  “Whatever makes you say that?” Her eyes weren’t on the screen anymore. Being under her stare was heavy, but no matter how much I wished they might flit away, one glance to the enchanted pane of ice showed me what Krystal was dealing with. I could push my way through an uncomfortable conversation, at minimum.

  “Because it’s a stupid plan, and you are much too wise to have formed it.”

  Her smile showed me more teeth than needed, white and sharp and perhaps just a hair too long. “You’re dancing on a line.”

  In for a penny, in for a pound. I was fairly sure that, so long as I kept things polite, my guest status would protect me. To an extent. “Then I apologize for any implied slight. I was complimenting your intelligence, not belittling it. What I’ve seen paints you as a brilliant thinker, capable of playing both the Agency and the Blood Council to your own gain. That doesn’t sound like the sort of mind who would expect something like this to genuinely derail our wedding.”

  The smile closed a tad, and her eyes went back to Krystal for a merciful reprieve. “It certainly would be surprising if you were scared away so easily after how far you’ve come, but you’d hardly be the first to run from what was hidden. Many parahumans have revealed their actual selves only to be abandoned, or worse. Yet you speak truth, Fredrick Fletcher: I had little expectation that this would change your mind. Still, did you not deserve to see it, to make this commitment fully informed? A marriage is a contract, and by now, you should have realized how seriously the parahuman world takes those.”

  A roar brought my eyes back to Krystal. She’d risen higher in the sky, and from the dripping sear on the blizzard behemoth’s flank, the first attack had gone well. It attempted to bite her out of the air, enormous jaws slamming down so hard I felt the castle shake. Not that it mattered; like a fly dodging the swatter, Krystal was fast and nimble as she blazed through the sky. Zipping in close, she raked its skin with her claws, opening up steaming wounds wherever she struck. The burns didn’t subside, either; purple-black flame continued to sizzle on the surface.

  Changing tactics, the behemoth let loose a torrent of slush, aiming for Krystal and its own back in the same shot. The material hit one target, kicking off another storm of flurries and ice, but the dark wings carried Krystal out of range. She rolled through the sky, lining up another angle of attack. While she’d avoided getting frozen again, I did notice the lingering fires were extinguished. How smart was this creature, anyway?

  While Krystal circled, I turned the situation over in my head again. What had we missed? Hellebore stole June, had Tem deliver a message, brought us here, and was now making me watch Krystal fight some snow monster. How did this benefit her? What possible goal could there be? The ones she’d stated were a flimsy pretense—an excuse, if I was generous. Fey didn’t move without reason, and nothing about Hellebore suggested a grudge toward Krystal. There had to be some part of the game we’d yet to catch.

  “If all you wanted was for me to see Krystal in her full-power form, then we’ve done it. I see her, I accept her, and I have no regrets or doubts about my upcoming wedding. Does this need to drag on?”

  “What a thing to say. Is there not still a blizzard behemoth on the steps of my kingdom? Obviously, Agent Jenki
ns will need to drive it off before she can pronounce the job completed, no matter how long it takes.”

  She wasn’t being subtle, but I’d needed the help, so was in no position to complain. “How long? Seems to me, she has a clear upper hand.”

  On the screen, Krystal had launched into a dive, falling low and striking for the creature’s face, only to hit neck as it twisted at the last moment. Her attack left visible wounds, yet I now realized they were only surface level. She was hurting it, not injuring it, and that would make for a much more protracted fight.

  Hellebore ran her fingers along one of the ice tables still holding refreshments, a new hue of blue washing over from the point where she touched. It was darker than the shade decorating most of the castle, more somber. “Ordinarily, Agent Jenkins would be raining hellfire down to burn that thing away. Such a technique would be dangerous with Agent Windbrook frozen somewhere below, so I suspect she’s been forced to use slower methods. Even with that, this invader seems to be particularly strong, almost like it’s drawing power from another source. All told, I still expect she will win this fight, given a month or so.”

  Was that it? Did she want Krystal to miss the wedding? No… this piece was the leverage. Just like pulling June had been all about drawing Krystal in, holding our next month hostage gave Hellebore power. Why she needed more, I couldn’t possibly imagine. She already had every part of the situation in hand. Outside of killing us, Hellebore could more or less do what she wanted, and if she did want us dead, there were no shortage of options once we left. What did this give her that she didn’t already have?

  “You know what, Hellebore, I give up. I can’t play these kinds of games, not while watching Krystal out there fighting. How about instead of all this dancing around, you just tell me what it is you want from us?”

  “Impulsive child, did you never imagine that some of us like to dance?” As Hellebore spoke, Krystal dropped in for another dive, narrowly dodging a stream of slush-vomit that the blizzard behemoth had held waiting. They were both adjusting to one another’s style, meaning that this actually might prove to be a more prolonged battle, not that I’d really doubted Hellebore. She was the sort to make sure her threats carried weight. “Besides which, the first rule of negotiation is that power comes from knowledge. Were I to reveal my true designs, it would just make you haggle all the harder on those points.”