I didn’t… No. I hadn’t been drinking. What was I doing before I got here?
I’m here, Naayak…
“Aerin?” I asked. Then it hit me. She’d killed herself. Fallen on her blade. If I was hearing her…
It’s me, Naayak.
“Wait. If you’re here…and you died…does that mean that I died?”
Aerin laughed. No, you aren’t dead. But you’ve been sleeping for almost twelve hours. You’re still lying in the middle of the woods.
That’s right, I thought. The Furies. The earthquake. “Does that mean I stopped the earthquake?”
You did, Aerin said.
“Why can I hear you? If you died and…”
I bound myself to the blade, but my soul was still bound to you, too. So when you swung the blade, the only reason you didn’t die when I did was that we hadn't consummated our marriage. Swinging that blade, I suppose, it was just as good as that. Like I told you before, when one wields such a blade, it mingles the two souls. Be careful about using the blade again in the future.
I snorted. “Well, if that’s supposed to be as good as consummating a marriage, I hate to break it to you. It was sort of a letdown.”
But it worked… I couldn’t believe it when I read it in the prophecy. But I knew what I had to do.
“The prophecy told you to kill yourself?”
Not exactly. It said that the blood of the drow princess would water the Earth, and that the drow princess’ sacrifice would shatter the union between the elves and the unseelie. Since I had the powder on me from the funeral, I knew at that moment what I had to do.
“It’s hot in here.”
The sun is up. It’s a hot day.
I kicked the sheets off my body, or what felt like my body, and got out of what seemed to be a bed. I shuffled my feet, afraid of what I might step on, and made my way to the nearest wall. I groped around until I found a light switch and flipped it on.
“Why are we in my old apartment?” I asked.
We aren’t. We’re in your mind. This place must be a place of comfort for you.
The chorus of The Old Apartment by the Barenaked Ladies was suddenly running through my mind.
Aerin laughed. I love that song!
“Wait,” I said. “First, where the hell are you because I don’t see you. And second, how did you know I was thinking about a song?”
Because we’re bound, Caspar. I am part of you. I explained to you how that worked when I was discussing the funeral rites.
I scratched my head. “If you’re in my head, why is it I can hear you but can’t see you?”
You can’t get rid of me because I’m a part of you. But what you’re seeing is what your subconscious wants to see.
“Where’s Layla? And what about the fairies? They were battling. What happened there?”
You need to wake up and find out, Naayak.
“You realize it is just you and me in my head. You can just call me Caspar.”
Aerin laughed. After what you’ve done, I feel I should honor you.
“I only did what anyone else in my position would do if they had the power I had. You’re the one who deserves to be honored, Aerin. You paid the ultimate price.”
Think of it this way. At least you and Layla can have a less confusing marriage situation together now.
I huffed. “That’s one way to think of it. But if you’re always going to be in my head, you’ll always be there in the middle of it. If you can read my mind, even a song running through my head, then you’ll be seeing what I see, feeling what I feel.”
Only when you are touching my sword, Aerin said. Which you are lying on top of right now. I was still pretty disoriented at being bound to you like this when you were talking to the Furies and stopped the quake. Since then, well, you’ve been unconscious.
“Am I unconscious, like, injured? Or just asleep?”
You’re alive, so that’s good, but I don’t know.
I sighed. “Layla must be looking all over for me if she got out of there. Lord, I hope she did. What about Brightborn? If the New Albion fairies didn’t defeat the unseelie fairies, the Furies said they’d unleash a bigger earthquake.”
You need to wake up, Caspar. You might be unconscious, but I can’t sense anything wrong with your body. There’s no reason why you shouldn’t wake up unless your subconscious mind just doesn’t want you to wake up.
“Why wouldn’t I want to wake up?” I asked.
You tell me, Caspar. What were you thinking when you were trying to stop that earthquake?
“I thought I might not be strong enough. Maybe I was doing it wrong, the way I was wielding the magic.”
Well, you did it right. You did stop the earthquake.
“I know. You told me that already. But you were asking me what I was thinking last before I passed out.”
Perhaps you’re afraid to wake up because you fear that all this, even my voice, is just a dream. You’re afraid you’ll wake up and find out either you failed or the seelie fairies failed to capture the unseelie. Rather than face the truth, perhaps, your mind finds it more comforting to just stay asleep.
“Avoiding the truth…that’s something my alcoholic mind might certainly do. Especially if I’m afraid that the truth might hurt.”
I know, Caspar. But you really need to face it. You need to wake up and find out. Because while my words are real, none of this is. This is not your old apartment.
I heard the front door open.
“Someone’s here,” I said, scrounging around in my closet, looking for my clothes. None of them were there.
You’re already dressed, Caspar.
“I am?” I looked down. I was. “How the hell…”
Again, this is all being made in your mind.
I stepped out of the bedroom, and Layla was there, but she wasn’t. So were Brag’mok and Jag. They were looking around the apartment but not really looking at anything in it.
“Hey, guys!” I shouted. “I’m right here…”
“Caspar!” Layla shouted. “Where are you?”
“I told you! I’m standing right here. Just turn around!”
You’re only shouting in your mind. But what you’re seeing, what you’re hearing. That’s real. They’re looking for you.
I sighed. “Well, at least I know she made it out of Pruitt-Igoe.”
Caspar… She won’t be able to hear you unless you wake up.
I sighed. “I don’t know how to do that. It’s not like I want to be trapped in some prison of my mind.”
Try walking out the front door?
I chuckled. Could it really be that simple? I walked over to the front door, literally walking through the apparition of Jag that was still wandering around the apartment of my mind.
I opened the door. I didn’t see my old hallway. I saw the tops of trees. I stepped through it and felt my vision expand. I was lying in the woods.
“Layla!” I shouted.
“Caspar? Is that you?” Layla shouted back.
“Yes!”
I heard leaves crackling, dead leaves from last fall that hadn’t decomposed. I heard sticks cracking under her feet, and I heard the thud of much heavier steps, too. It must’ve been Jag and Brag’mok.
Layla leaned over me. “Thank God we found you!”
I nodded. “Sorry, I think I was… Well, I blacked out.”
“Can you stand up?” Layla asked.
I wiggled my toes. “I think so.”
I slowly rolled over, made my way to my hands and knees. Brag’mok’s giant hand grabbed my arm, and with his help I managed to get to my feet.
“Great to have you back, buddy!” Jag said, slapping me on the back and knocking me over again.
“Jag!” Layla said. “Seriously?”
“Dude, I’m so sorry!” Jag said, running over and grabbing me from behind and lifting me back to my feet.
I laughed as I picked up Aerin’s sword. “Sorry, I’m still a little out of it. Would you believe it
, when I was passed out, I could swear Aerin was talking to me?”
I was talking to you.
“Shit!” I said. “That was real?”
I told you it was.
“Yeah, but I didn’t know if that was a real you, or a fake you, saying it was real.”
“Caspar?” Layla asked. “What’s going on?”
I sighed. “Somehow, when Aerin killed herself with this blade, with that enchanted dust on it, then I swung the blade, it mixed up our souls. Her spirit got stuck inside of the sword and now we’re bound…still bound. Just differently, I guess.”
“Aerin speaks inside your head?” Jag asked.
“When I’m holding the sword, yes,” I said.
Jag laughed. “I mean, I knew the drow are into female supremacy, but that’s a kind of role reversal I didn’t think was possible.”
“Dammit, Jag,” I said. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Sorry, too soon?”
I sighed. “Yeah. Definitely too soon. I’m sure I’ll find that joke funny later. In about twenty years.”
“You should come back with us to the stone circle,” Brag’mok said. “The Furies are waiting for you.”
“The Furies?” I asked, shaking my head. “Please tell me that Trixie defeated Develin and the unseelie?”
“I don’t know,” Layla said. “When I left using my celestial magic, they were still fighting. But I couldn’t stay there any longer. The legion healed themselves. They were going to come after me.”
“Shit,” I said. “I teleported Echor back to the junkyard ranch. The elves know about the ranch. They’ll come for him.”
“They’re not there,” Layla said. “The drow did their funeral rites, and then Jag called Dwight, and everyone piled into his eighteen-wheeler. I told them to go somewhere they couldn’t be found until I texted and told them it was either safe to return or I found a new place.”
I wiped a little sweat from my brow with my shirt sleeve. “Thank God you thought about that.”
“Of course I did, Caspar,” Layla said, kissing my cheek.
How sweet.
I snorted and planted the sword in the earth.
“What?” Layla asked.
“It’s Aerin. She just made a comment when you kissed me. Said it was sweet.”
“Wait,” Layla said. “So Aerin can feel it when I kiss you?”
I nodded. “I think so.”
Layla sighed. “I thought… I mean, not to be insensitive about her death, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t occur to me that our marriage might start to get a little more normal now.”
“I’m just glad to know that she’s still alive, in a way,” I said. “I couldn't believe it when she sacrificed herself like that. She said the prophecy told her to do what she did.”
Layla shook her head. “If we ever do open the last elven prophecy, the one my father has, I sure hope it portents something a little better for me.”
“I agree,” I said. I retrieved the sword and made a makeshift sheath from my belt as Layla and I followed Brag’mok and Jag through the woods.
“Any of you have any water?” I asked.
“One thing I wished we hadn’t forgotten,” Layla said. “I’m thirsty, too.”
I nodded. “Well, I do have the power over the water elemental.”
“What are you doing?”
I focused my power and, gathering water from the humid air, I formed a large, floating glob of water in front of us. I stepped up to it, pursed my lips, and pressed them into it, sucking the cool liquid into my mouth.
“Come on, Layla, get a drink.”
“Caspar,” Layla said. “We still don’t know for sure which side of the fairies won. If they sense you using magic like that…”
I shook my head. “If the good fairies lost, we have more to worry about than that. The Furies said if the unseelie were not brought to justice, the next earthquake would be several times more powerful than the last.”
“Do you think you could stop it again?” Layla asked.
I shook my head. “It took everything I had to stop that one. I really don’t know.”
We eventually made the three-mile hike back to the stone circle. The three Furies were standing there, waiting for me.
“Welcome back, Naayak,” the Furies said in unison as I stepped inside the circle.
“So, did it work?” I asked. “Were the unseelie defeated?”
The three Furies waved their hands through the air and a whole army of fairies appeared. Trixie was in the middle, now wearing a small crystal crown on her head.
“You did it!” I shouted, smiling wider than I probably ever had.
“We sure did!” Trixie said, flexing her muscles as she buzzed around me like a hummingbird.
“What happened to the others? The unseelie?” I asked.
“We’ve bound them in the realm of the fae,” the Furies all said in one voice. “They will not be returning to Earth until their sentence has been served.”
“Their sentence?” I asked.
“A sentence appropriate for murder,” Tisiphone said. “They’ve been sentenced to life without parole.”
I raised my eyebrows. “You guys offer parole?”
Tisiphone smiled. “I was just translating our sentence into something that is comparable to the human legal system.”
“So life for a fairy, how long is that, exactly?”
“A thousand years!” Trixie interjected. “Give or take a century.”
I smiled. “Well, sucks to be them!”
“Indeed! It sucks to be them!” the Furies said in unison.
I cocked my head, then laughed. Apparently, the Furies were gradually picking up on modern speak. “Well, we still have a war to fight.”
“Now all three elements are truly united,” the Furies continued, “we have a chance.”
“I’d say we have better than a chance,” I said. “Without the fairies, Brightborn is at a major disadvantage.”
“It is not just Brightborn who you must now face,” the Furies said. “The war you must wage is against more than his legion. The governments of this world are united behind him.”
“Against all the governments of the world?” I asked. “I’m going to rescind my previous statement about him being at a disadvantage.”
“For us, it is no change,” the Furies said. “We have always been at odds with human powers.”
“We’ll need a place to go that's safe,” I said. “A place where they can’t find us. Until we figure out what to do.”
“We can take care of that!” Trixie said.
“How so?” I asked.
“We can do more than teleport,” Trixie said. “We’re also masters of illusion. We will come with you and shroud your home village in a veil.”
I shook my head. “They still know where the junkyard ranch is. Even if it’s veiled, they’ll find us there.”
“They won’t!” Trixie said. “What is within the veil is technically a part of the realm of the fae. If they go there and they are not welcome, they will simply pass through the place without realizing that you're there.”
“Like a parallel dimension or something? In the same place, but not?” I asked.
“The realm of the fae,” the Furies said. “Is all around us. It is here, but not here. Always there, but always imperceptible. What Queen Trixie proposes will suffice.”
I nodded. “Thank you, all of you, for everything.”
The Furies nodded, and in a flash of light, they disappeared.
I looked around. “All right, everyone. Who wants to take the portal?”
“And who wants to ride with me in the truck?” Jag asked.
“I’ll take the portal,” Brag’mok said. “No offense, Jag. But your protein and broccoli farts are the worst.”
I laughed. “That, they are.”
“Seriously?” Jag asked. “No one is going to ride with me?”
I looked around. “Let me just form the portal for th
em. Then, I’ll ride with you, Jag.”
“Thanks, buddy!” Jag said.
“You’re going to regret it,” Brag’mok said, shaking his head.
“Probably,” I said. “But we’ll leave the windows down.”
Chapter Forty-Four
We still had a war to fight. But we’d won a battle. We’d stopped the earthquake, saved St. Louis, and succeeded in separating the fairies from the elves.
At the very least, if Brightborn was going to travel anywhere, he’d have to do it the old-fashioned way. Meanwhile, with the seelie fairies on our side and the unseelie fairies in the hands of the Furies, we could portal anywhere I could visualize.
Jag called Dwight to let him know it was safe to bring the crew back to the ranch. Once they arrived, Trixie and the fairies cast their veil over the whole property. After I held up to my end of the deal, that is, and supplied them with all the Bubblicious and Fun Dip I could find at the local Walmart. One taste, and with a sugar high giving them a boost of energy, they had the ranch veiled in seconds.
Sure, it was a junkyard. We had a ton of crap I didn’t know what to do with. But it was starting to feel like home even if it still needed a lot of work.
I wasn’t sure what to do about St. Ensley’s. Technically, Jag still held the title to the building. Was it really safe to go there? Could the fairies veil it, too? Usually, if you’re running anything like a church, making it impossible to find was disadvantageous. I suppose if we told the members to go to platform nine and three-quarters, they might be able to find a way in. I’d have to discuss that later. There were other people, a whole crowd of folks, who supported us who had gone there looking for hope.
We’d figure something out. Eventually.
So, an army of drow, giants, a couple humans, an elf, and a cat…what in the world were we going to find to do to keep ourselves occupied while hiding behind a magical veil on an old ranch-turned-junkyard, turned base of operations?
In AA, we give coins out when someone hits thirty, sixty, ninety days sober. You get another one at six months and every year thereafter. We celebrate every small victory because each day sober is a day not drunk. In this war, I believed, we had to celebrate every win, especially as few and far between as they were.
Junkyard Dogma (The Elven Prophecy Book 4) Page 24
