Nine Lives: Providence Paranormal College Book Nine

by Perry, D. R.

  “Yeah, you should get the arrow. But Olivia,” Tony kicked at a clump of fallen leaves. He stayed back, not looking at the tree. “There’s something else about that bow you don’t—”

  “Ye knaves!” The thing pinned to the tree spoke. Its voice sounded tinny and far-off, child-like, too. “Scurvy rapscallions! I’ll have you walk the plank!”

  “Um, excuse me, but manners are a thing.” I grabbed the arrow. “Use them.”

  “But, but I’m a pirate!” I could practically hear the pout. “We’re supposed to talk like this.”

  “Yeah, right.” Tony snorted. “A will-o'-the-wisp pirate. Now I’ve heard everything.”

  “But I am one! I’m the first mate, my mama says so!”

  “Um, you’ve taken this pretend-y pirate adventure game too far now.” Tony leaned on one hand against the tree. “Everyone knows wisps don’t have parents.”

  “Tony, this isn’t a will-o’-the-wisp.” I yanked the arrow free. The blue thing fell to the ground, and I pointed at it. “Have a closer look.”

  “Huh.” Tony bent over and peered down. “Magipsychic device. Some kind of spyware, I think. But who’d cover a magical bugging device in blue glitter and tie it to one of the most obnoxious pure faeries in the known universe?”

  “Hello, sir at the other end of this magipsychic device.” I knew the reason this new voice had better manners. I recognized who it belonged to. Tony didn’t, or acted like he didn’t, at least.

  “Hello,” he said. “You must be Captain Mom.”

  “And you sound like Tony Gitano, but you can’t be. He passed away last week.”

  “Yeah, he did. Hold on.” Tony pulled a scrap of black fabric from a pocket, picked the device up with it, and held it out to me.

  “Hi, Gemma.” I couldn’t help but smile. Gemma Tolland was a troll from one of the oldest and highest-ranking families in the king’s court. Back in the mundane world, she ran a salvage boat with her grandfather. “Wow, you told me before you had more rank and responsibilities in the Under than the knights, but I’d never have guessed that meant commanding your own ship.”

  “Olivia Adler?” Gemma’s chuckle sounded like a babbling brook. “How did you get tangled up in the other end of my kid’s mischief?”

  “It’s a long story.” I stowed the arrow in its quiver and slung the bow across my back.

  “It’s not mischief, Mom!” A swooshing sound garbled the child’s voice, but I managed to make out the rest. “Was trying to scout the beach for enemies, is all.”

  “Wait a minute.” Gemma took a deep breath, then sighed it out. “Are you on the beach? In the Under? How did you get here?”

  That was when one of the most curious things happened. I felt something wash over my body, a ripple of energy. Silence on the other end of the line told me Gemma had felt it, too.

  “No way.” Tony blinked at the glitter-encrusted surveillance device. “There is no way that just happened.”

  “Tell me where you are, and I will pick you up.” Gemma lowered her voice. “Don’t talk to anyone before I get there, no matter what.”

  I told her, keeping my voice to a near whisper. The last thing I wanted to do was piss off my literal mom-friend.

  I turned, looked back the way we’d come. The sun touched the sea at the horizon, mixing hues across the water’s surface like an oil slick. But there wasn’t any oil in the Under. That’s just how light and darkness behaved there. Tony gazed out, too. His black-furred tail flicked, and his matching ears flattened nearly against his skull.

  “Are you pondering what I’m pondering?”

  “There’s no time for Animaniacs quotes.” Tony tilted his head, somehow managing to look at me sideways and down his nose all at the same time. “You need to tell me why you got a faerie magic surge when Gemma asked you three questions and didn’t when I made the same mistake.”

  “Mistake?” I blinked. “I wouldn’t ever hold you to faerie rules, Tony. You know me better than that.”

  “You might not want to, but we’re in the Under.” Tony shook his head, then turned to face me with his hands on his hips. “It’s faerie law and nothing else in this neck of the woods, so tell me, already.”

  “But I don’t know.” I sighed. “I felt it, Gemma felt it. But I have no idea what it even means. You have to remember, all I know about magic is what’s legal in the mundane world with and without a permit and what kind of punishment extrahumans get for breaking the laws there. I’ve never even felt magic that didn't come from a gadget before.”

  “But you’ve been seeing ghosts ever since you went nocturnal.” Tony put one hand in his pocket. I tilted my head, peering. It was the front pocket in his jeans, not one of the many in his trench coat.

  “Yeah, mediumship’s a Psychic ability, not magic. And anyway, we already talked about that.” I glanced at his face, and my cheeks heated. Not in the fun I-have-a-crush-on-you way I usually got around Tony Gitano, either. I couldn’t help it, I was about to have an angry cry right there in the king’s demesne. “Told you we should have let the rest of the pack in on that, but did you listen?”

  “No. And I should have.” Tony’s tail drooped. “I’ve been lying to them for way too long, and maybe for the wrong reasons. And I’m sorry. Especially for the way it’s affected you, Olivia.”

  We stood like that for a moment, then I took a step toward him. He froze, so I didn’t take another. I don’t know why I’d risk embarrassing myself by throwing myself at him again like I had at the spring party. He’d already made it clear that he wasn’t interested enough.

  “Anyway, Tony, I wish I knew more about magic than the legalese.” I felt the first tear escape the corner of my eye and make its way down the side of my nose. The fact that I couldn’t control my tears when I got angry only magnified the feeling. “I’m worse than useless down here, and you deserve better help.”

  “Wait, what? I deserve—” Tony coughed. Then he smacked the side of his face with one hand. “You’re worried about helping me, and you’re the one on the Quest. Look, all I really want right now is just some honest truth from anyone willing to give it. You’re already helping, in case you forgot about the legendary bow you’re carrying, which I am unable to use without shooting my eye out.”

  “Legendary bow?”

  “Yeah.” Tony rolled his eyes. “Dammit. You’re packing crazy powerful faerie bow heat. Of course, you’re getting whacked-out faerie magic effects. And there’s the answer to my freaking question. Right under my nose.”

  “I don’t know, Tony.” I pressed my lips together, thinking back to the moment right before Gee had vanished us into the Under. The way my voice had weakened the glass felt magical too, and that didn’t come from the bow or the Under.

  “Of course, you don’t. Because there’s more about that bow that I haven’t told you.”

  “And there’s more about how I got to the Under that I didn’t tell you, either.”

  “Guess we’re both guilty—”

  “As charged.”

  “Hey, stop finishing my sentences!”

  “At least I’m not finishing your sandwiches.”

  “I wouldn’t care if you did. Do I look like a Redcap to you?” Tony rolled his eyes. I glanced at his tail. It stood up again, its end curved gently into a shape resembling a question mark. His ears stood up, too, turned toward me.

  “Look, Tony. I think I broke my dorm window while jumping out of it.”

  “Not unusual.”

  “And I don’t even like Tom Jones. That’s Mom’s music.” I had to seriously restrain myself from bursting into song, though. The tunes you grow up hearing in the background tend to stick, even when you don’t want them to. “Seriously. I didn’t touch the glass. It shattered when I opened my mouth, and some weird music came out when I tried to scream at your father.”

  “Well, then.” Tony’s left eyebrow arched. “My theory’s probably impossible, but it might explain how you managed to hit the magipsychic bug and
scare off the will-o'-the-wisp even though I’d knocked you flat on your back.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Magic owl girl.” He jerked his chin at me. “Legendary Faerie bow.” He pointed at the weapon slung across my shoulder. “That bow, string, and quiver are the Goblin King’s Garters.”

  I opened my mouth to say something, I forget what. A crackle of twigs and leaves underfoot sounded instead of my voice. We turned in tandem to see Gemma Tolland standing just past the tree line.

  “Thought I sensed a major magical force here.” Gemma’s arms crossed over her chest, hands hovering over her pistol on the left and rapier on the right. She drew the flintlock weapon and pointed it at Tony. “I’ll help you kill the doppelgänger if you clear my debt, Olivia.”

  “Um, no.” I shook my head and stepped in front of Tony. “He’s no such thing.”

  “Yeah, Gemma. I’m the real deal.”

  “Prove it.” Gemma lifted the pistol, aiming over my head. “Tell me something only Tony knows.”

  “I know your kid’s dad. He’s on the wrong side as far as you’re concerned.”

  Gemma Tolland didn’t drop her weapon, but I thought it was a near thing. She managed to holster the pistol after one failed attempt. The captain beckoned with one hand, reminding me of someone telling us to “bring it.” After that, she spun on the heel of one knee-high boot and strode back through the trees and onto the beach.

  We followed, spying a tall ship flying an antlered Jolly Roger in the distance. A dinghy waited for us, aground at the shoreline.

  Chapter Ten

  Tony

  I got into the dinghy. I hated large bodies of water with the fire of a thousand suns. But if the troll thought there was something as strong as a Doppelgänger around, I believed her. So did Olivia, apparently. She climbed aboard, too. It didn’t occur to me at the time that all that magic might have come from us.

  Gemma rowed on her own, barking commands to what looked like a rudder that moved all by itself. But I wasn’t fooled. I knew a sea nymph when I saw one, which only ever happened in peripheral vision for most people, myself included. So I almost waved at the purple-haired faerie, so that Gemma understood I knew she wasn’t alone on the boat with us.

  I stopped myself and stuck my hands in my pockets. Why should I threaten one of the king’s captains, anyway? She owed Olivia a favor, and neither had agreed that a ride in an Unseelie Pirate ship would repay it. Any bravado I whipped out would just look like a dick move.

  I sat in the swaying dinghy with my eyes half-closed, trying not to think about all the surrounding water. That let in the idea that my first impulse had been to act like a thug. I pictured a big, heavy boot kicking the self-hatred overboard with cement overshoes. It wore Armani, like Dad. The corners of my mouth refused to tilt up, but at least I’d cleared a little patch for myself in the old psyche.

  Avoiding my issues worked just fine all the way to the ship. It kept right on working as we stepped on board, and all the way down into what I assumed were the captain’s quarters. The door was red and ornately carved. That Unseelie Jolly Roger grinned down at us, the horns more like a stag’s antlers close up and without wind distorting the picture. Gemma’s hand grasped the brass doorknob, twisted until it clicked, and pulled the door open.

  We stepped inside to see a grizzled old man, a troll by his tusks and braided fauxhawk, engaged in a play-duel with a small child wearing an oversized bicorn hat. She giggled as she stepped under his thrust and tagged him on the belly with a curved wooden sword.

  “Ack! Ya got me!” The older gent made a totally fake hacking sound as he collapsed to his knees. “Bested by a wee scalawag!”

  “Haha, Grampa!” The kid danced from one foot to the other, waving her hands. The hat tilted, revealing a shock of tangerine hair. I saw her mistake. She’d left her entire torso exposed. “Oh, noooooo!”

  The old troll grabbed her and pulled her close. He stood, sweeping her up in the air as he rose. Then he drew her soft, exposed belly toward his tusked mouth. My stomach dropped like an elevator with the cord cut.

  “Kid—” I reached out, about to stop what my imagination whispered would happen next.

  But it didn’t.

  A fit of giggles floated over the sound of one enormous and wet raspberry.

  I stood there with my hand out like the biggest idiot in the Under. I knew well what my damage was. The Tolland family had nothing like it. My knee-jerk reaction assumed Gramps would do something vindictive, show her up, take her down a notch. Maybe even hurt her. I’d seen Magi, vampires, faeries, and a zoo’s worth of shifter types all my life. I’d even started seeing ghosts recently. But my eyes had gone almost twenty-four years without taking in anything like the kind of love between that little girl and her Grandpa.

  I stared, not sure I could believe in any of it. A cold knowledge touched my heart like a pebble on a headstone. All this time, I thought love like that just didn’t exist. It was fake, maybe, like Bigfoot or the Loch Ness Monster. And really, I’d been wrong. I just wasn’t destined to experience love like that myself.

  I understood how humans managed, denying the existence of all things magical for ages. When you’re not part of something special, it breaks your heart hard enough to slam the door on reality. That’s why people fail to believe the truth, even when it’s right in front of them. Denying it hurts less.

  Something warm and soft closed over my fist with the pointing finger. I couldn’t hold my arm up anymore, but the gentle weight helped me ease it down instead of dropping it. I looked down and to the right.

  “It’s okay, Tony.” Olivia’s voice didn’t just speak the words. Something in that utterance sounded like a song, one that held the door open for me.

  Denial might hurt less, but in the long run, it costs way too much. I looked back at the loving family, fixed my eyes on them as they laughed together like a starving stray might on a square meal. Love existed. Somebody had it. Maybe love was an element, like the water the Galleon sailed on. Water didn’t make excuses for its presence or absence. Why should love? And who was I to judge something like the ocean, anyway?

  “I’d better introduce you all.” Gemma reached for the child and settled her on one hip before planting a kiss on her forehead, right above the kid’s left eyebrow. “This is my daughter, Hope. And that’s my Grandfather, Admiral John Tolland.” She extended a hand at Olivia and introduced her formally, first and last name and all.

  “Um, what about Tony?” Olivia fixed her gaze on Gemma, a look that was a hair shy of being a glare.

  “Like I said, I’m not a hundred percent sure that’s Tony.”

  “Oh, come on, Gemma.” I rolled my eyes. “I gave you some private intel.”

  “It wasn’t enough to be sure.” The captain of the paranoia ship shook her head. “Dad, give him the doppelgänger test.”

  “Right.” The admiral reached in his pocket, then turned to look down at me. He couldn’t help it. That’s just what happens when a guy who’s six-three and at least two eighty faces a dude under five-eight and one seventy-five.

  John Tolland pulled his hand from his pocket and raised it closed around something. He pointed it at me the same way a dude-bro might when expecting a fist bump. I just stood there, not sure what was happening or what I could do about it if he decided to haul off and break my nose for the seventeenth time. But he did no such thing. That doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

  “Ow!” A blinding flare of light sort of like those old-fashioned photo flashbulbs knocked my eyesight right out. Waves of red and brown streaked across blobs of gray and blue, floaters dragging their amoebic way across what should have been my field of vision.

  “He’s no doppelgänger, Gem.”

  “Well, duh.” Olivia squeezed my hand, then let it go. “Told you it’s Tony.”

  “Yes, that’s kind of obvious now.” Gemma’s throaty chuckle carried more nerves than humor. “But how in the name of the king is he not dead?”

>   “Supposedly,” I blinked, hoping that’d make the remnants of temporary blinding go away faster, “I’ve got nine lives.”

  “Wow, mister.” The kid’s voice was unmistakably higher-pitched than her mom’s, with a completely different timbre and tone. She sounded like her father. “Are you a Kells Cat?”

  “There’s no such thing anymore.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “Everybody knows that the whole point of a Kells Cat is to deliver decrees that the monarchs make together. That saying about killing the messenger is the reason they get nine lives. And since we have divorced monarchs, they ain’t making joint decrees.” I wasn’t going to tell the kid about how they’d gotten wiped out during the multiple genocides in the early twentieth century. “Anyway, they’re fairy tales, kid.”

  “I think it’s more likely some kind of Undeath Magus gave you some help when you were too young to remember.” Admiral Tolland stroked his beard and squinted at me. “You’ve lived under a dangerous roof.” He smirked. “Kid.”

  “Yeah, probably more likely.” I sighed, somehow relieved that he’d gotten off the subject. I knew enough about Undeath magic to understand I wasn’t affected by it, though.

  “Well, wait a minute.” Olivia’s voice turned my head. “The queen has a suitor. Doesn’t that mean the Under will need a Kells Cat eventually? If she accepts, I mean. There might be some joint decrees, then.”

  “That’s not something I want to think about.” Gemma, the formidable-looking Unseelie troll pirate captain, shuddered. “You saw him trying to blast those waterlogged vampires out of the water at midsummer. He’s not the kind of monarch the Under needs.”

  “But could he ever actually be king, anyway?”

  “If he knocks the queen up, his kid could be.” I shook my head, then glanced at the wide-eyed kid. “Oops, sorry. Not really appropriate topic with a preschooler around.”

  “I’m five!” The kid stuck her tongue out and blew a raspberry at me. “And I know where babies come from.”