by Amy Sumida
We rode with the extinguishers again, mainly because they had bigger vehicles, and my husbands and I could ride together. As soon as we were seated, our driver handed Killian a folder, then spun the SUV toward the airport exit—he'd kept the car running while he waited for us.
“That's every incident we could collect info on, Ambassador,” our driver said to Killian. “The latest one is about twenty minutes away.”
“What the fuck is this?” Killian asked as he flipped through a stack of photographs.”
“The crime scenes, Sir.”
“These are... is that a unicorn?” Killian cocked his head at the photo.
“Yes, Sir. Made of flowers, Sir. I believe there's a kitten too, and a butterfly.”
“Why am I looking at pictures of flower sculptures that my daughter would love, Extinguisher... ?”
“Murdock, Sir.”
Yeah, the name is common in my old organization. I think I've mentioned before that the Extinguishers are formed of members of the Five Great Families of Ireland—the psychic families who first fought the Fey. But I don't think I gave you their names. For posterity's sake, they are Sloane, Kavanaugh, Teagan, Sullivan, and Murdock. All extinguishers belong to one of the five which means that every extinguisher will have one of those five surnames. Council members, however, are different. You don't have to belong to one of the Great Five to get into the Human Council—all you need is some impressive psychic ability.
Back to the unicorn.
“Why am I looking at flowers, Extinguisher Murdock? Flower sculptures and whole damn fields of them. I've never seen so many flowers in one spot in all my life and I live in Fairy for fuck's sake.” Then Killian started reading the report. “These flowers were once coca plants? Coca crops?” He looked up to stare at the extinguisher through the rearview mirror. “And these sculptures were blocks of cocaine?”
“Yes, Ambassador.”
I took some of the papers from Killian and flipped through them. “Holy Isle of Danu,” I murmured. “Bolivia, Peru, and Columbia—those are the three largest producers of cocaine. This guy did his research.”
“Yes, Ma'am,” our driver sounded a little smug. “I mean: yes, Your Majesty.”
“Did he turn the humans into flowers too?” Tiernan asked.
“No, Your Majesty. But he did turn all of their possessions—including their weapons—into assorted foliage and their money simply vanished. Every bank account known to have ties to criminal activity here has been emptied. Without weapons, money, or crops, cocaine production is dead in the water.”
“And what has he done here?” Raza asked.
“I don't know about the latest incident but so far, the local militia and one of the main domestic criminal gangs has experienced losses similar to those inflicted upon their friends in Bolivia.”
“Paraguay has a significant increase in flowers as well,” Killian noted. “Isn't Paraguay where a lot of Brazilian criminals hide out?”
“Yes, Sir. Marijuana and weapons are also trafficked through the country.”
“Now, he's fighting a war on drugs?” I asked no one in particular. “Who the hell is this guy?”
“I'd say he was a saint if I didn't know better,” Killian muttered.
“Yes, Sir,” the driver agreed.
Oh, here we go again.
“Murdock, you do know that the relic is countering every fulfilled wish with deeds to balance them, right?” Killian asked before I could say anything.
Murdock sobered. “Yes, Sir, but it's hard not to root for the guy. I've seen first hand what these motherfuckers can do. Excuse my language, Queen Seren.”
“Motherfuckers is fine, Murdock. I was an extinguisher before I became queen. You're not going to offend me with foul language,” I said, making him grin again. “And I've worked cases in Brazil before so I understand your anger. But all the good this thief is doing is instantly negated by something terrible. So far, Delhi has lost two major companies, putting hundreds of thousands of people out of work, and Zimbabwe is currently experiencing floods that will likely destroy all of the crops the thief just grew. Rioting will likely follow in both locations. I'm loath to imagine what these recent wishes will do to Brazil and its bordering countries, but I'm certain it will be more horrifying than inspirational. And frankly, I'm getting a little sick of reading off this guy's resumé to every fucking extinguisher I meet. Don't they brief you before they send you to us?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” The driver cleared his throat. “We have been warned about the repercussions. I just... I wasn't—”
“You said one of the criminal gangs here was... flowered as well?” I cut him off.
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Which one?”
“The PCC.”
“Primeiro Comando Capital,” I expounded for my husbands “Or in English: First Capital Command. They're the biggest gang in Sao Paulo. In addition to drugs, they're also into extortion, kidnapping, and, of course, murder. Although murder is usually a byproduct of the others, they're not assassins. As for the militias that Extinguisher Murdock mentioned, they're composed of police and ex-police officers. They were supposed to fight the drug gangs but instead started their own criminal rackets. They extort whole neighborhoods, but they especially enjoy kidnapping. Not that they restrict themselves to kids, but when they do take them, their victims don't stay children for long. In my opinion, they're even worse than the gangs. At least the gangs don't pretend to be protecting the people they victimize.”
“Fuck me,” Daxon whispered. “Why would anyone want to live here?”
“The beaches are nice and there's Carnival,” Killian looked up from the report to say.
“It's not so bad if you're Fey and can protect yourself or if you're a wealthy human,” Murdock said. “But if you're human and poor, the best you can do is join one of the gangs.”
“Except now, it looks as if a man with a pearl is disbanding the gangs,” I noted.
“And when he's through with them, getting deflowered will be the least of their worries,” Killian added.
We all grimaced at him. All except for Murdock who chuckled.
“Come on,” Killian huffed. “As if I was going to pass up the chance to use the word deflowered.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
The latest incident, as Extinguisher Murdock had called it, occurred in a warehouse owned by the biggest crime syndicate in Rio—Comando Vermelho, AKA the Red Command. I expected to find something similar to the pictures in Killian's folder: lots of pretty flowers. But whatever had happened—flowers or otherwise—had occurred inside the warehouse. And we couldn't get inside because outside, it was pure mayhem.
“What the fuck?” Killian snarled as our vehicle slowed.
Murdock stopped the car, blocking the narrow street since there was nowhere to park. Not that it was a problem; people with any sense would be steering clear of this and those who weren't sensible needed to be kept away for their own good.
“I recognize some of those men,” Murdock said as he peered through the windshield. “That guy is high up in Comando Vermelho.” He pointed at a man, then winced as a group of people shot him numerous times. “Oh, I get it now.”
The shot man dropped the makeshift weapon he'd been holding—looked like a metal pipe—and crumpled to the ground. The men around him dropped whatever they were holding and either held up their hands in surrender or tried to make a run for it. Neither option proved beneficial. Everyone was getting gunned down.
“Care to share with the class?” I snapped at Murdock over the sound of gunfire.
“The Red Command is unarmed.” He waved a hand at what was rapidly becoming a massacre. “You know what these people have done—the atrocities they've committed. Now, they're vulnerable.”
“Revenge,” Killian concluded.
“They're taking the chance to kill their oppressors,” Daxon said approvingly. “I say we sit back and let them.”
“Daxon,” I hiss
ed, “don't you get it? Violence to replace violence. This is the work of the Cintamani. The criminal gangs are being neutralized but they're also being replaced. Do you think these people will ever be the same after committing mass executions? Dear Danu, look!” I pointed out the window at a teenage boy and a little girl. The boy held the little girl's hand in one of his and a gun in the other. He was leading her straight into the mob. “I'm all for overcoming oppression but this is not the way.”
“This is what happens when people are trodden upon over and over again,” Raza said grimly. “I know this is the cost of redemption—the Cintamani's price—but I cannot denounce it. They deserve vengeance, Seren.”
“Not like this, Raza.” I shook my head. “Do these people deserve what they're getting? Probably. I don't know; I can't judge them. But I do know that if we don't stop this, good people will be turned into monsters.”
“I think you might feel differently if it were your family who had been repressed, Seren,” Daxon said gently. “Fighting back doesn't make you a monster.”
“No, fighting back doesn't make you a monster, and I'm sure I would feel differently if my family had been hurt as these people have been. I'm sure I'd be standing out there with my family and friends, destroying the people who hurt us before they could recover. And I'm just as sure that my actions would hurt me and haunt me. They might even make me into a different person. Because this isn't merely fighting back. This is magic. This is the Cintamani restoring balance. These deaths will leave a vacuum and these are the people who will fill it.”
“What would you have us do, Seren?” Tiernan asked. “Do you want us to go out there and attempt to restrain all of those humans?”
Someone knocked into our SUV, right on cue. I stared out the window at the people passing by, waving makeshift weapons along with firearms. Their expressions were twisted with hatred and their eyes blinded by vengeance. They started to look at our vehicles suspiciously.
“What are we doing?” A nervous voice came through Murdock's radio.
Murdock looked at me pointedly.
“If we go out there, mo shíorghrá, we will end up hurting, and possibly killing, many of these people. Wishes have been made and Brazil is paying the price. We cannot stop that payment any more than we could stop the rain from falling on Zimbabwe. It is done.”
I sighed deeply and nodded.
“Tell them to back out of here,” Killian said to Murdock. “We're leaving.”
“Yes, Sir,” Murdock said with approval.
As we eased away, I watched the mob rise up and the warehouse caught fire. A shiver rode my blood as gunshots echoed in my ears. Raza said it was done, but I knew this was just the beginning.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
I gasped, along with my husbands, as a surge of magic rushed over my skin.
“Turn left!” Killian shouted.
Murdock jerked the wheel to the left.
“That way.” Raza pointed.
“Where are we going?” Extinguisher Murdock asked in bafflement as his radio beeped. He hit a button on the dash; it was evidently connected via Bluetooth. “Murdock.”
“There's been another surge,” a male voice announced.
Murdock glanced over at us and grimaced. “Yeah, I got a carful of Fey Nobility who just turned into bloodhounds.”
Killian gave Raza a smug look. Raza rolled his eyes.
“I don't know what the hell that means, but we have an approximate area if you want the details.”
“Don't need it. Call the others.” Murdock ended the call, then glanced at Daxon, who was sitting in the front. “Where to?”
“Straight ahead,” Daxon said, his eyes fixed on the road.
We navigated our driver to the scene, following the fading ripples of the surge. The claustrophobic loom of terraced buildings thinned as we sped out of the city. The jungle crept up, serving as a barrier between the homes of more affluent citizens. We came to a metal gate. Daxon lowered his window and gestured out it; the gate flung open. We sped up a curving driveway, tree branches brushing our windows. A group of maybe thirty men stood in the parking area before a two-story house, most looking shell-shocked but a few spoke animatedly into cellphones. We pulled right up to the house and startled the men even further; they automatically reached for weapons that weren't there. A few of them pulled flowers from their holsters, then tossed them away as if they were poisonous snakes.
Extinguisher Murdock got out of the car and started speaking to the men in Portuguese. My missions in Brazil had been brief so I never learned the language and couldn't follow the conversation, but it was likely the normal set of queries; who are you, what happened here, etc. When the rest of us got out and stepped up beside Murdock, the humans started to look very nervous. The Royal Guards gathered around me and my husbands while the extinguishers and hunters prepared to do their thing. But I knew I had the fastest, most humane way to deal with the criminals. So, I slipped between Ainsley and Gradh and blew sharply across my palm. Lavender dust billowed out toward the humans. Several fell asleep instantly but—like a birthday cake packed with candles—I wasn't able to get all of them with one blow. The other humans panicked and rushed me but a cyclone of furious fairies cut them off.
Tiernan summoned the shadows to constrict the air from human throats, Daxon set them to screaming with the Tromlaighe, Killian pulled his swords and went ninja on their asses (he generally refrains from using his Firerain in close quarters), and Raza went fucking berserk. I jerked backward, smacking into Torquil, who yanked me even further back before taking up a defensive position in front of me. The Star's Guard formed a line between me and the fighting—fighting that was over in seconds. Then an angry dragon burst through my guards and grabbed me by my upper arms.
“How dare you act so foolishly!” Raza snarled into my face.
I yanked my arms out of his grip and said calmly, “I had it under control.”
“If you had it under control, I wouldn't have slaughtered those humans.”
“You didn't have to. None of you did!” I shoved his chest furiously. “That was the point. I would have dusted them before they got near me and they would have been asleep instead of resting in pieces.” I made a frustrated sound before adding, “Daxon, for Danu's sake, would you please call off your magic?”
Daxon gave me a tight smile as he closed his fist. The hardened criminals, who were crumpled into fetal positions as they screamed like little girls, settled into a more subdued whimpering.
“All right, let's just calm down,” Killian said as he cast a pointed look at the gawking gathering of extinguishers, vexes, and hunters behind him, then at our Royal Guards.
They took the hint and headed into the house to investigate—all but a few knights from Raza's King's Guard, who got to work restraining the surviving humans while pretending to not listen to our conversation.
I marched over to Daxon's victims and blew dream dust over them. They fell into a fitful sleep and continued to whimper. I should have known that the results of Daxon's nightmare magic would follow them into their dreams.
“We are here to protect you, Seren,” Tiernan spoke in a gentler tone than Raza but not by much. “How can we do that if you run ahead of us and engage the enemy alone? You know better than that. Raza's right, you acted with utter disregard to your own safety, and that cannot be tolerated.”
“These men were not the enemy,” I growled as I waved a hand at them. “They're unarmed humans who I could have taken down with one hand tied behind my back and no magic at all.”
Tiernan grimaced, then hardened his voice, “Your daughter just had a vision of you crying as you burned. You need to let us take point.”
“That vision could mean many things; that's how visions work. Rowan saw me burning, not dying,” I growled. “And the day I let you take point because I need to be protected is the day I go into the ground, Tiernan Shadowcall.”
When you become a mother you learn to use people's full names to
add impact to statements. I don't know why. Maybe it has something to do with hormones. Or maybe it's simply a way of drawing out your anger.
“The last time you burned like that, you nearly died. So don't act as if Rowan's vision is inconsequential,” Raza growled. “Only important matters are shown in visions; that's how they work.”
“It isn't inconsequential but it isn't a death omen either. You need to relax and let me do what I promised to do,” I argued.
