by N. P. Martin
Everywhere I went in the flat there were signs of my mother’s former existence: bookshelves in nearly every room filled with books old and new, photographs on every wall, her large vinyl record collection in the living room. All of her clothes and jewelry that remained untouched in the master bedroom and even the scent of her perfume still lingered in the air. All of these reminders brought tears to my eyes as I moved through the flat like a ghost, the place feeling empty and missing the love and warmth that my mother once filled it with.
On the mantle above the stone fireplace I lifted a framed photograph and stared at it through bleary eyes. It was the last photo my mother and I had ever taken together, on her fifty-eighth birthday. I took her to her favorite local restaurant for dinner, during which she chided me, as she habitually did, for not doing enough with my life and acting like I was still in college. She supported my musical endeavors, but she also strongly believed I needed to be doing something else, something of importance to the world. Despite me saying that music was important enough, she wanted me to get a job serving the Council as she did. I stopped the conversation before it could devolve into an argument, which thankfully it didn’t. After dinner, Dalia joined us for drinks at the flat. It was Dalia who took the photograph of my mother and me, framing us out on the balcony with the rooftops of the city stretching out behind us. My mother looked as radiant as she always did, youthful almost, which was partly due to her Touched nature which tended to slow the aging process. Her smile was warm, her brown eyes bright and wise. Sighing, I touched two fingers to my lips and then touched the photograph with my fingers, before replacing the frame on the mantel.
As usual, my sadness was swiftly followed by anger, and the burning need to punish those responsible for her death. Iolas wasn’t the only one involved. There were others who helped him do it. An elf like Iolas doesn’t do his own dirty work. I would find the others complicit in the murder and I would…
Kill them.
I’d been thinking it for so long now that I had hardly given thought as to whether I really meant it. I certainly felt like killing those responsible, but did I really have it in me to do so? Could I make the death blow when it came to the crunch, or would I capitulate under the pressure?
My head was spinning from so many thoughts, and I was beginning to feel physically drained as well, so I decided to get some sleep after a final glass of whiskey.
Tomorrow I would begin to make plans.
Sleep didn’t go so well. First, there was the nightmare, in which I ran through the empty streets of Dublin, chased by some unknown monster that I could never quite see properly, but which remained at a close distance behind me at all times, shadowing me, bathing me in its malevolent presence, until eventually it caught up with me and—
"Get the fuck up, Chance!"
My eyes shot open to see a colossal, dark figure standing over me, and for a few terrified seconds I thought the monster in my dream had somehow managed to cross over into reality (which isn’t unheard of, by the way). Before I could even scream with fright, a massive hand shot down and wrapped around my throat, gripping me tight as I was yanked out of bed by the neck and tossed onto the floor like a pile of dirty laundry. As I lay groaning and trying to recover from my shock exit from bed, I looked up to see that there were two figures standing there with me. One of them then crossed the room and switched on the light, though I didn’t need light to know who had broken into my home: two bloody orcs who weren’t doing much to hide their true forms from me, probably figuring they’d be more intimidating this way—and they’d be right. The orcs stood at least six and a half feet tall and both were heavily muscled beasts who could snap my neck in an instant if they wanted to.
"Don’t bother trying to use magic," one of them said, who sported bleached-blonde hair and tribal tattoos on his face.
"We’ve already used a blocking spell on you," the other said, this dark-skinned brute being completely bald, and like his companion, he sported dangerous-looking tusks that jutted upward out of a cavernous mouth. "While you were sleeping."
Not one for believing every word I’m told, especially by two orc thugs, I uttered the words, "Invisibilis Factus" in an effort to make myself invisible, but of course, nothing happened. My connection to the Void appeared to be severed at this point in time. It seemed the orcs weren’t bullshitting after all.
The blonde one booted me in the stomach, winding me so much I couldn’t breathe. "That’s for not taking us at our word," he said as I lay clutching my stomach, feeling like one of my ribs was at least cracked, if not broken.
"You’ve got one minute to get up and get dressed," the bald one said.
"Or we drag your scrawny arse outta here naked," the other said with a sadistic smile on his brutish face.
"Nice of you," I tried to say, but only a gasp left my mouth as I couldn’t yet breathe properly. Still clutching my stomach, I managed to stand up and grab my clothes off the floor next to the bed, hurriedly pulling then on.
I was no sooner dressed when the blonde orc grabbed me roughly by the arm and flung me halfway across the room. It was all I could do not to lose my balance. "Get moving!" he barked.
"Where we going?" I asked.
"Someone wants to speak with you," the bald orc said.
Well, I thought as I moved down the stairs, wincing at the pain in my ribs, at least they’re not taking me to a quiet spot so they can dispose of me.
Not yet anyway.
Chapter 5
I was bundled unceremoniously into the back of a black van, the orcs shutting the doors behind me, enclosing me in darkness. The inside of the van smelled of sweat, blood and piss, and I wondered how many injured souls had lay in here before me, or how many others had been tortured or beaten up in it. At least I wasn’t getting much of the physical treatment, not yet anyway. As the van pulled off, I tried to conjure my magic again, but was unable to do so. Whatever blocking spell the orcs had used (one no doubt given to them by Iolas), it was strong and I didn’t expect to be casting spells any time soon.
I sat uncomfortably in the back of the mobile prison cell for nearly an hour listening to the orcs in the front talking about other thug business they had to take care of for Iolas. Speaking of elves, it didn’t take a genius to work out that the orcs were transporting me to Iolas’s mansion which was situated near Killiney Hill Park, right on the coast facing Dalkey Island. Iolas has many properties throughout the country, but the Killiney mansion was where he spent most of his time. I knew this because my mother had worked alongside him for years, and so she knew quite a bit about the elf. Despite the proxy Council, everyone in the Touched community knew that Iolas was practically King of the South. He and his elven brethren controlled most of the business south of the border, as elves often do around the world, capitalist movers and shakers that they are.
When I felt the van drive over gravel and finally come to a stop, I knew we had arrived at the mansion. A few moments later, the orcs opened the back doors of the van and stood staring in at me like I was some vermin they had captured in the city.
"Right, worm," the blonde orc growled. "Out you come."
"I hope you’ve taken me somewhere nice," I said as I was about to exit the van, the smell of salt from the sea already entering my nostrils. "I feel like a moonlight stroll."
The blonde orc punched me in the stomach as I was jumping out of the van, causing me to land in a heap on the gravel, once again clutching my stomach. Bastard. If he didn’t break my ribs before, he sure did this time. "The only place you’ll be strolling is into that fucking sea on the end of my boot if you keep up your smart-mouthing."
The other orc gripped my arm painfully and hauled me to my feet. "The boss is waiting. Get inside."
I said nothing more as I walked toward the huge front door of the gray stone house. Two more orcs guarded the door, one of whom pushed me inside where I was met by a tall elf in a dark suit. "Excuse the security," the elf said, his blue eyes not seeming to hold an
y malice; the opposite in fact. "They can get a little rough sometimes. Did they hurt you?"
I stared at the elf as he closed the door on the orcs. "Well, I think my ribs are broken. Does that count?"
"Apologies. Allow me." The elf suddenly placed a hand on my abdomen and I felt a warmth travel through me, concentrating around my broken ribs. Before the elf even removed his hand, the previous sharp pain I was enduring disappeared. "Better?"
"Yeah. Thanks. Frankly, I’m surprised you even give a shit about me being in pain."
The elf, who could’ve been anywhere between thirty and a hundred, looked confused for a moment. "Why is that?"
I shook my head. "Em… because your boss is a gangster who murdered my mother?"
Smiling coolly, the elf said, "I wouldn’t know anything about that. This way please. My name is Iliphar, by the way. I’m Iolas’s personal secretary."
"Nice to meet you."
I was led through a series of hallways, the walls of which were covered in oil paintings that mostly depicted members of Iolas’s family along with what looked to be paintings of various Sidhe and scenes depicting dark going’s on in the Otherworld. It was all very creepy, to be honest, and in keeping with what I already knew about Iolas and the kind of elf he was.
Eventually we stopped by a door that had Celtic and Elfish symbols carved into it. Iliphar knocked the door once, lightly, then waited. What was going to happen to me? Was Iolas going to kill me himself?
"Come in," said a deep voice from inside, a voice I immediately recognized as Iolas’s. His voice alone struck fear in me, and suddenly I didn’t feel quite so defiant or itching for revenge anymore. I should’ve let it go, I thought. Yet somewhere inside me, there was still a tiny voice telling me to hold fast, and to not let Iolas win. I pretty much ignored that voice as I entered the darkened room behind Iliphar.
"Mr. Chance is here to see you," Iliphar said respectfully, stepping to one side so I could walk further into the room.
Iolas was sitting behind a huge oak desk that was probably centuries old. He barely looked at me as he stood up, seeming impossibly tall as he did so, and yes, bloody intimidating. "Thank you, Iliphar," he said. "That will be all. See to it that the orcs are paid, will you?"
Iliphar nodded once. "Of course, sir."
"Oh, and set a trap for those bloody Faeries who keep stealing my herbs from the garden." He threw me a withering look. "I find the best way to deal with vermin is to stamp them out completely."
I looked away, just as I realized there was someone else in the room. A presence that was even darker than Iolas’s, much, much darker.
Jesus Christ. It can’t be…
My eyes moved past Iolas to the corner of the large room as I peered hard into the shadows there. The rest of the room was quite well lit, so there shouldn’t have been that much shadow in that one corner, unless whoever was standing there had created the shadow themselves. Which I now knew they had, for in the midst of all that darkness I saw two red eyes glaring right at me—a look that chilled my blood completely, for I knew in an instant it was a vampire.
What the hell is a vampire doing here? I wondered.
The vampire’s power was almost palpable inside the room, and when Iliphar left, closing the door shut behind him, I felt like a rabbit trapped in a room with two greyhounds, about to be mercilessly torn apart.
To put it into context for you, higher vampires are rarely seen outside of their enclaves, preferring to let the lower vampires—or vamps—do all the running around for them. It spoke volumes that a vampire was standing in the same room as Iolas.
"Corvin Chance," Iolas said, coming around the front of his desk to sit on the edge of it as he folded his arms. His long blonde hair spilled down over the shoulders of his dark suit and his piercing blue eyes bored into me as I stood near the door, thinking I could at least make a break for it if I had to, despite knowing that Iolas could stop me in seconds. And let’s not even consider the vampire skulking in the corner, who could drain me of every drop of blood before my hand could even reach the door handle. "I thought we had an understanding that you were not to come back here. Yet, here you are."
"Here I am," I muttered, aware that the vampire was staring at me still.
"Did I not make myself clear when you rudely cornered me after your dear mother’s funeral?"
Don’t you mention her name! I felt like snarling, but didn’t. I had now realized the only chance I had of getting out of this room alive was by convincing Iolas that I wasn’t a threat to him and that I no longer believed him responsible for my mother’s death.
"I was wrong," I told him, the words tearing at my throat and chest as I spoke them. "I may have… jumped the gun in blaming you."
Coward!
Iolas stared hard at me. "I’m not sure I believe you. Maybe my friend here could mind-rape you to see what you really believe."
I glanced to see the vampire’s eyes glowing red again, every other part of him still concealed in shadow. Though I didn’t need to see him to guess that he was probably one of the princes from up north, maybe even the one responsible for killing my father years ago.
"I’m telling you the truth," I said, looking back to Iolas. "Ireland is my home. I just want to live in peace. What you do is of no concern to me."
Iolas stared for a long time, then he came walking over and stood towering over me. "Your mother was a dear friend of mine, and I miss her greatly. It offends me that you would think I would kill her."
God, the arrogance. The lies.
"I was… somewhat emotional when I… accused you of…"
"Murdering your mother?"
"Yes."
"And what else was it? You thought I was head of some cabal that was trying to take over the country?" He snorted, as if the idea was ridiculous. "I already run things here. Why would I need some cabal?"
I shrugged as my eyes darted nervously to the vampire. "Like I said, I was wrong. Delusional in my grief, you might say."
Iolas scowled down at me. "I’m not in the habit of killing people anymore, young Chance. Those days passed long ago."
Doing my best to remain outwardly calm and reasonable, I nodded, even though it felt like Iolas was trying to bait me into some sort of reaction, tricking me into giving away my true feelings. "I suppose we should all be grateful for that then, eh?"
"Yes," he said, still staring intently at me. "You should."
I stood awkwardly until Iolas suddenly turned away and walked back to his desk to pour himself some wine from a crystal decanter. "Would you like a drink, Corvin? We could toast your late mother."
Before I could even answer, he had the drink poured and was holding out the glass for me to take. I got the impression that if I didn’t accept the drink, the vampire would drink me instead. So I took the glass and raised it slightly as Iolas said, "To Teresa Chance, one of the smartest, and also one of the most beautiful humans I’ve had the pleasure of knowing."
I gritted my teeth as I managed to form a tight smile. "To Teresa."
We both drank then, Iolas’s eyes never leaving me.
Then he said something wholly unexpected.
"I’d like you to work for me, Corvin."
I nearly choked on my wine, barely managing to swallow it before I sprayed it all over his desk. "What?"
"I can see you have your mother’s smarts, perhaps even her talent for magic." He sipped on his wine. "It remains to be seen if you have her courage as well."
Dumbfounded, I could only stare at him. From the corner, the vampire hissed softly, as if prompting me to answer. "Are you serious?" was all I could think to say.
"I’m always serious," Iolas said. "That’s something you will learn when you come to work for me."
Now he’s talking like I already do. What the hell?
Okay, I would humor him, if only because I suddenly glimpsed an opportunity that might allow me to take Iolas down, though the vampire in the room wasn’t making me feel very confident about
doing any of that.
"So what would this work entail then?"
Iolas smiled coldly. "I’m glad you asked…" he said.
Chapter 6
"Wait a minute," I said after Iolas had finished explaining what he wanted me to do for him. "You want me to be your debt collector?"
The elf flashed another cold smile that did a great job of giving away his total lack of empathy for humans. Most of the elves I had met over the years had the same attitude toward humans, Touched or not. It was in their breeding to behave like superior beings, although most of them weren’t quite as blatant about it as Iolas was. My mother once told me that Iolas was over eight hundred years old, which was still relatively young for an elf, all of whom were basically immortal. And for immortals, the mortality of humans was merely another flaw that allowed the immortal races to go on being superior. "In a way, yes."
"You have orcs for that. Why would you need me? I mean, look at me. Do I look like a debt collector to you?"
"Not at all, but that’s the point."
I frowned. "I don’t understand."
"As I just finished explaining a moment ago, I have business interests across the length and breadth of this island. Many of those businesses borrowed from me, or from one of my subsidiaries, and now owe me a debt. Most pay their debt, but some don’t."
"Right, so you want me to go to these businesses or whatever and demand they pay their debt?" I couldn’t help but chuckle slightly, genuinely amused by what Iolas was asking of me. "I’m just a humble musician, Iolas, not some—"
