Ashes of Raging Water

by Michael J Allen

  Could this be Aquaylae?

  The naked woman seemed very thin. Short dark hair fell across her face in shallow waves that barely reached her chin. Small breasts, narrow hips, she looked more like an adolescent than a fully grown woman.

  Irritation flashed through me.

  I don’t have time for this. I need to see about the eggs and then Mare.

  I bolted for the stairs.

  Anima spoke before I made the third step. “Shieldheart, Shield Aquaylae’s nest is empty. She’s injured. You must tend her.”

  “Fine.” I rushed back down the stairs and threw the naked woman over my unclothed shoulder.

  If this is Aquaylae, the fountain’s waters will suffice to restore her.

  Broken glass left a trail of my blood from the stairs to the fountain’s edge. I lowered the bloody Aquaylae into the fountain’s basin. A groan of discomfort escaping her lips became a sigh. She went still in the water, save for a shallow rise and fall of her chest/.

  There, she’s breathing, now to the business at hand.

  I circled the fountain. As ripples from Aquaylae’s motions eased away, I caught my reflection. My new body appeared shorter and finer boned. My facial features seemed more angular, but all together the handsome new body filled me with pleasure.

  Eggs, right.

  My circle brought me around the fountain one alcove at a time. Beneath each guarding putto our egg cradles gaped empty. My chest echoed their emptiness with hollow cold.

  Only one alcove contained anything.

  Fragments of Aquaylae’s shattered egg traced the path they’d broken up. Larger pieces sparkled beside tiny shards in the fountain’s bottom, purple in the blood-stained waters.

  My eyes shot to Aquaylae’s chest and my breath caught in my throat until her bosom rose almost unperceptively.

  Light filled the greenhouse. “Vitae?”

  I turned, groaning inwardly until I remembered Summuseraphi’s assault on the salamanders. He’d proven an accomplished warrior. Of course, adolescents excelled at fighting. Warrior prowess didn’t give him the wisdom of a Divine One. I bowed to our so-called Praefectus. “Summuseraphi.”

  Summuseraphi appeared worse for wear. His eyes fell on the empty cradles and then on Aquaylae. He hurried to her side. “Thank God, she’s still breathing—though something about her looks off.”

  “Her mass is wrong, Praefectus, and her nest is completely empty,” Anima said.

  “How is that possible?” Summuseraphi asked.

  “Without power for the recording devices, I can only guess her nest didn’t catch as much of her essence as she’d hoped it would when she killed herself.”

  Summuseraphi pinned me with hard eyes. “She chanced suicide without her egg and with insufficient essence so she could protect the sanctum and you want her Destroyed?”

  “She couldn’t have known her egg was gone or she wouldn’t have done so,” I said.

  “Are you so sure?” Anima asked.

  “She’s no Mare.”

  Summuseraphi slipped a hand beneath Aquaylae’s head. “Vitae, add your essence to the waters.”

  “She’s fine,” I said. “We’ve got more important things to handle.”

  Blazing white light flared around Summuseraphi, writhing like a flaming aura. “I gave you an order, Shieldheart. Obey it.”

  I glowered but obeyed. I pushed essence out one finger, lowered it into the water and severed half of the offering by will. “There, now can we focus on what’d truly important?”

  Summuseraphi’s jaw clinched. “Tell me all that has happened since you left my side.”

  I gestured around us. “We were assaulted. Knight Dolumii and Knight Gherrian attacked our sanctum.”

  “Sensors are picking up evidence they were both mounted,” Anima added. “No bodies were left behind, but I sense wyvern and griffon blood in addition to the Sidhe knights.”

  “Where are the others?” Summuseraphi asked.

  “They are all engaged in Veil breaches, Praefectus. Caelum was ambushed on his way to a breach. He managed to defeat the faeries and continue on to the nearby breach, but he hasn’t called back in yet,” Anima said.

  “Terra and Ignis?” I asked.

  “Ignis was reborn and headed back to the site of his death.”

  “That’s been dealt with,” Summuseraphi said.

  “It was not at the time, but I did tell him you and Vitae were handling it. I will brief him and the others once they are in communications range.”

  Summuseraphi frowned. “You don’t have cellular capacity?”

  “Vitae felt it prudent not to connect my systems with those of the mortals,” Anima said.

  “When time allows, I’ll address that alongside my other concerns,” Summuseraphi said. “What’s the status of your Terra?”

  “Injured and engaged with a third breach.”

  “Recall them all as soon as you get a hold of them,” I said. “This is a full recall, Anima—nests and all. They’re not safe living outside the sanctum.”

  Summuseraphi gestured. “Your sanctum doesn’t seem that much safer, all things considered.”

  I bristled.

  “Damn, you people require a lot of work.” He glanced skyward. “Five rewrites and five deaths in less than a week. Ani, is that a record?”

  “No, sir,” Anima said. “Should I check what the record is?”

  “Don’t bother,” Summuseraphi flopped onto a bench. “I have a feeling we’ll be breaking it. Vilicangelus said the Shields in this territory would be little effort—practically managed themselves. How many Arches have opened since I started? Oh, right, you don’t know because your web is full of holes.”

  “Have you notified Vilicangelus?” I asked.

  “He’s got his wings full, besides, I can manage this mess you call a Shield.”

  “I think perhaps you should reconsider, after all—”

  Summuseraphi leapt to his feet, fire shrouded him once more. Light pulsed outward from his aura in waves that slammed against my body. “I said I can handle this.”

  Obviously not.

  I took a reluctant knee. “I offer apologies.”

  Summuseraphi narrowed his eyes.

  “Shall I set up a meeting with the Courts?” I asked.

  “Why would we want to do that?” Summuseraphi asked.

  I’m going to revenge Mare and get some answers.

  “This Praefecture contains royal enclaves. We have two dead vassals. Their deaths and associated break-in must be formally addressed,” I said.

  Summuseraphi chewed his lip. “Do we want to inform them that we’ve lost our eggs?”

  “One of them is already aware,” I said.

  Summuseraphi paced around the fountain, gnawing his lip. “Do we have any way to track the eggs besides proximity? Any evidence to suggest which Court took them?”

  “Whatever took out power, took out our automata too,” I said.

  Summuseraphi’s brows furrowed.

  “All the sanctum cameras were taken out of commission when power in the surrounding blocks was disabled,” Anima explained.

  Summuseraphi cursed. He cringed, looking skyward. “Your anti-mortal leanings are costing this Shield, Vitae, but we’ll have to deal with that too when time allows.”

  This is our new leader. God truly does favor the foolish things in Creation.

  He stared out at the surrounding city. “The wafers will want an explanation. What in God’s Creation are we going to tell them destroyed all the glass and knocked down power in a three block radius?”

  “It was a wyvern’s primal cry,” Anima said. “The expulsion of magical sound designed to stun sorcerers and temporarily rob them of magical energy.”

  “I know what did it, Anima, but I can’t tell the wafers—”

  “Mortals,” I said.

  Summuseraphi stopped his pacing and glowered at me. “As I was saying, I can’t tell the mortals that a wyvern did it.”

  “I sta
nd ready to assist in whichever manner you desire.”

  If you ever come to an actual conclusion. Why ever did they promote this incompetent oaf instead of me? My failure? Well, I’ll show them who is suitable and who is not.

  Summuseraphi narrowed his eyes at me.

  I stiffened.

  Where did that thought come from? Of course our next course of action requires dutiful thought. I shouldn’t criticize a Divine One. There are no individuals, only the Shield.

  “Anima, run a search for possible causes the mortals might believe,” Summuseraphi said, “and inform the Courts we’re coming for a call.”

  “They will not willingly meet on such short notice,” I said.

  “Inform them that saying no is not an option.”

  23: Declaration of War

  Detective Foxner

  Sabrina waited in one of three uncomfortable precinct chairs outside her Captain’s office.

  Purposefully uncomfortable.

  A smug detective from homicide with an all too cute pixie cut sauntered up to her. “Oh, how the mighty have fallen.”

  “Buzz off, Mary,” Sabrina said.

  “Not only are you only working burglary, but you’re up shit creek without a suspect.”

  “I have a suspect.”

  “Not according to TechOps.”

  Damn Miri and her efficiency.

  The extremely competent woman didn’t only dig like she’d been born half Labrador, but she filled out all of her paperwork with better regularity than any clock Sabrina had ever seen.

  “I’ve got her, I just can’t prove it.”

  “Miri said they were entirely separate women. We both know you can tell the difference when you’re sober.”

  “It’s her.”

  “How? Magic?”

  “You know better, preacher’s brat.”

  Mary stiffened. Before she could retaliate, the Captain’s door sprang open. “Gamete, don’t you have a homicide to solve? Foxner, inside.”

  Sabrina followed him into the irritatingly untidy office. She scanned filing cabinets, half-stowed files, old mail and magazines, cigar butts and empty Coke cans.

  This office would be pretty big if he actually kept it organized.

  “Foxner!”

  She whipped her head around, his walrus mustache still reverberated from the force of her name.

  “You done woolgathering? Can we maybe have your attention on some police work today?”

  “Captain, I’ve been—”

  “Chasing the wrong woman.”

  “They’ve got the same name, the same man.”

  “So? This some sort of weird jealous obsession?”

  Sabrina folded her arms across her chest. “I’m chasing a suspect.”

  “Sit.”

  She sat, refolding her arms.

  “Look, Sabrina, you’re not in homicide anymore—though why you requested the transfer I can’t imagine. Like it or not, Burglary doesn’t have the big budgets to focus on one suspect or one case. I need you off this and onto the next one.”

  “So we just let a chain of animal shelter thefts go?” Sabrina asked.

  “You a pet lover? I’ve got two dogs myself. Love them more than I loved my last four wives, truth be told. It’s horrible, but that’s humanity. Your perp stole this poor woman’s identity to lead you astray. Maybe it’s even a frame-up.”

  “I have deleted pictures of Snyder with the suspect. I saw a photograph myself. They’re related at the very least.”

  He sighed, his mustache fluttering. “Seven animal shelter heists, animals only, and you have one suspect that the Feds say doesn’t exist. You’ve got no adoption records for a sister, no birth records, all you’ve got is a hippy florist and her dog of a boy toy, and some photo-shopped pictures. You may have been one of my best, but there’s nothing even you can do with this one. File it under unsolved and move on.”

  Shock froze a retort on her tongue.

  Unsolved? I’ve never filed a case under unsolved.

  “That’s an order, Detective. Out you go.”

  Vitae

  Summuseraphi drove my Mercedes...badly, much to my discomfort and displeasure. He took us to the Central Presbyterian Church, parking and walking around the back to a trestle arch laced with too-dry vine roses. He extended both hands, an acorn and a small pinecone in either. The divine phoenix muttered, cursed, muttered again. The second round of cursing brought a thunderclap from the clear sky. Summuseraphi cringed, mouthing apologies and muttered once more.

  A swirling portal eventually filled the archway.

  Summuseraphi shrugged. “Pronunciation has to be just right.”

  I held my face in a passionless mask. “Of course.”

  Which anyone not an idiot could probably have managed on the first attempt without raising God’s ire.

  I followed him through the archway into a wide, cobbled hollow under a spring sky. A ring of cushioned chairs surrounded two curved tables and a small table at their foot. To my left, silk tents rested beneath tall pines—icy blue and dark raspberry, evergreen and white. On the opposite side, the silks shone daffodil and crimson, gold and orange.

  Elven knights stood at either set of both tent entrances in the same—if slightly plainer—armor worn by the knights who’d assaulted our sanctum. My blood raced through my veins. My hands itched to draw either or both of the elven blades hung upon my hips.

  All four knights reacted to my movement, placing hands upon their own blades beneath disapproving scowls.

  A tiny tent on the far side opened to a rotund goblin in an Edwardian suit coat and vestment. His dark, greasy hair pulled back along his round skull into a black bow which poked out from his head half as far as his nose. Long narrow ears extended a middle distance between that of nose and ponytail. It shuffled along on patent leather clown shoes that fit its elongated toes.

  “Greetings, Divine One, Vitae. You are welc—” The goblin’s eyes fell on my swords. “Um, yes, welcome, you are welcome here.”

  Summuseraphi shook the goblin’s olive hand, the faerie’s long fingers almost wrapping around his hand a second time. “You honor us. May we know your name, Esteemed One?”

  The goblin shrugged. “I’m nobody, just this year’s token representative for my people in the Georgia Shire. Call me Thatch.”

  “The Divine One instructed the Courts to be here waiting,” I said. “Why aren’t they here?”

  “Faery’s folk aren’t real big on being told what to do, kind of how we ended up here if you really think about it.” The goblin cocked his head. “Pardon me for asking, Vitae. I’ve never had the pleasure—being a law-abiding merchant by trade—but can your kind do magic?”

  “Not in the way I think you mean,” Summuseraphi said.

  “Hmm,” Thatch said.

  The goblin excused himself and waddled over to the Unseelie tent. “Pardon this interruption, Great One, but a council is called.”

  He repeated the performance at the Seelie tents. Thatch returned to us, gesturing into the center of the tables. “If you would stand there for council?”

  “Haven’t you seats we might use?” I asked.

  Thatch cringed. “You’re not important enough to warrant seats.”

  “Is that so?” My voice rose, and I reached for my swords.

  Summuseraphi laid a hand on my arm. “We will stand. Thank you, Thatch.”

  Thatch took a seat at the tiny table and avoided eye contact with both phoenixes. After an interminable wait, I checked my pocket watch. Half an hour later—at least according to my watch—a tall young man in royal garb stepped out of the Unseelie tent.

  It’s about time.

  He clapped his hands then disappeared back inside.

  A flock of pixies in winter livery swarmed one table, laying a feast for eye, nose and palate. A summer flock appeared without invitation, laying out a feast like, but better, than the first. Winter added more scrumptious delicacies in more artistic layouts. Summer retaliated
. For twenty minutes the contents of each table changed.

  The Unseelie youth appeared at his tent entrance. “Sufficient.”

  Winter pixies fled with whatever they still held. A procession of men and women, some with elvish features, others huge versions of the pixies and another so unbelievably beautiful I felt as if I were trying to look into the sun.

  A young woman in knightly garb led a procession from the Seelie tent. “Cease and remove yourselves.”

  I opened my mouth to object, but Summuseraphi shook his head. Summer’s servitors left in a stream. One knocked a delicacy out of place. It swept back to restore it.

  “Lady Esloah commanded you.”

  The pixie looked up at the voice, abject horror across its little face. It imploded with a small shriek.

  My jaw clenched. I glared at a barely adolescent fairy in gossamer silks layered like flower petals around him.

  Unseelie circled the tableaux. Seelie orbited in the opposite direction. Both groups wove in and out of each other, examining the table and pointedly ignoring us phoenixes, Thatch and the opposite party.

  I folded my arms, careful not to move my hands near either sword as I tapped my foot. Words sprang to my tongue, held back by will that weakened at each tirade turned aside. At long last the circles stopped, the petal-wrapped youth coming face to face with one young woman too beautiful to look at directly.

  “We win, Laryn,” she said.

  Vusolaryn smirked. “How do you figure?”

  Her mouth quirked. “You got pixie on yours.”

  Vusolaryn turned, accepting a plain wooden cup from Lady Esloah. He presented it to the beautiful fairy woman with a slight bow. “Cup to you, Mariena.”

  Both parties reversed and took their seats.

  Thatch stood. “Divine Phoenix, Summuseraphi, Shieldheart, May I introduce Princess Mariena of Unseelie and Prince Vusolaryn of Seelie, Royal mon—”

  “Leaders,” Mariena said.

  Thatch bowed. “Your pardon, Royal Leaders of the Georgia Shire.”

  Mariena folded her hands. “This decade we’re a republic.”

  Vusolaryn smirked at me. “We tried socialism last, but the pixies kept eating the best treats.”

  “The last Shire I guarded was a monarchy,” Summuseraphi said.