by S. W. Clarke
We came to one end and idled, waiting to catch his eye.
“You know,” I said, “you could easily get his attention, if you wanted.”
She nudged me. “So could you.”
“Fair enough. Here’s my best trick.” I stepped up to the weathered wooden counter, began to trace a finger over it. No man, human or fae, could resist a woman touching something like she was lonely and arou—
My finger hit grooves. Lettering, carved into the wood itself by an elegant, careful hand.
I stared down at it. The lettering wasn’t in English. “Eva, can you read this?”
She came to my side, examined it. “It’s Faerish. It runs the whole length of the counter, so I can only make out the first few—”
“What is it?” I looked up at her. “Why’d you pause?”
She stared closely. “It begins with the words ‘Hrungnir had a heart.’” Her eyes traveled right. “But the rest is blocked by all the goblets and elbows.”
“I lied before.” I stepped up to the nearest fae who was standing at the counter. “Now I’ll show you my best trick.”
When I said excuse me to the half-drunk fae, he turned to me at once. I had, after all, used my Buy me a drink? voice.
It’d been a while since I’d used that one, but it seemed it hadn’t lost its potency.
Except when he turned around, I said (with a smile), “Please move.”
And, with wide, confused eyes, he did. I wasn’t proud to be using my feminine wiles like this, but I had no patience to wait for the inebriated fae to drift off. Not tonight.
I gestured for Eva to keep reading.
“Wow.” She stepped closer, eyes on the words. “That was impressive.”
“Directness with a smile. It works a charm. Now what’s it say?”
“‘Hrungnir had a heart that was famous. It was made of hard stone…’”
“And?”
She glanced up at me, then at the other patrons blocking the bar. “Can’t read beyond that. Elbow in the way.”
I sighed. Went over to the next fae and did my trick again. I had to do it three more times—and it did, in fact, work a charm every time—until we’d read the whole inscription.
Which was this:
Hrungnir had a heart that was famous. It was made of hard stone with three sharp-pointed corners just like the carved symbol hrungnishjarta.
When we’d finally read the whole thing, Eva and I turned to look at one another.
“Three sharp-pointed corners,” I said.
“A symbol,” she said.
Hrungnir’s heart was a trefoil knot.
An hour and a few drinks later, we came out of the inn and into the night to clear our heads. Around us, a light snow had begun to fall, and Loki’s feet made tiny paw prints as he walked beside me. The whole time, he kept mumbling about how good the chicken had been.
Meanwhile, the three of us were dumbfounded.
We’d asked the bartender about the inscription on the counter. He had told us the line in Faerish was from a 13th-century book called Skáldskaparmál. We had circled the wagons and spent the next hour discussing it while Aidan did intermittent research on his phone.
“I still don’t understand,” Eva said as she buttoned her jacket against the cold. “Let’s say I agree that the giant’s heart was in the shape of the trefoil. Where does that get us?”
“It has to do with the symbol Rathmore drew.” I stared into windows as we walked down the street, still vibrant with pedestrians and people out for the holiday. “He knew about the prophecy. He studied it, and it’s possible he’s trying to help me.”
“Really?” Aidan walked with his hands deep in his jacket pockets to keep warm. “If that’s the case, why wouldn’t he just...tell you in person?”
That was a question I couldn’t answer. All I knew was Rathmore had to leave, and if he’d kept away, it was for a good reason. He’d helped me become a better witch. He’d wanted me to know myself—my real self, and not who I was when the Spitfire emerged.
I trusted his choices. And that was a rare thing.
“I don’t know,” I said. “But I know the Hrungnir Inn matters. I know what we read in there matters. We just have to piece it together.”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Loki stopped, sat to lick his paw and clean his face even though his butt was planted in the snow. “You saw the dance Eva partook in at the ball. The one where three fae formed the knot.”
I stopped with Loki, a memory surfacing. Frostwish had told me the name of the dance, but I couldn’t remember it while my head was swimming with fae alcohol. “Eva, what was the dance called?”
She stopped, turned as the snow dotted her lavender hair. It had begun to fall harder, collecting on the windowsills and roofs. “The Trickster’s Triad.”
The trickster’s triad.
Three interlocking triangles.
“Why is it called that?” Aidan asked, his voice uncommonly slurred. “The dance, I mean.”
Eva stepped closer. “I’ve forgotten now. It was something to do with fae lore and magic. The Battle of the Ages?”
My brain wouldn’t work right, and Aidan and I exchanged an unsteady glance. Even through the haze, I recognized that look. It was the one we always shared when we knew we would have to do some research. We needed to know more about this dance; it would bring us closer to an answer.
But, watching him stand uncertainly on his feet, I sensed this was as far as we would get tonight.
Which meant I had exactly three hours left before my day off was done. Three hours of freedom.
And I was still half-drunk.
“Let’s keep walking.” Eva turned on her heels. “There’s a sweets shop ahead I want to duck into before they close. Mama and Papa will be—”
I’d already crossed over to one of the windowsills, gathered up a bundle of snow into my hands. “Say, Whitewillow, have you ever taken part in this human tradition?”
The moment Eva turned, I hurled snow at her.
She shrieked, shielding herself with both upraised arms. “What was that for?”
Aidan burst into laughter, immediately bent down to gather snow himself. He nearly fell in the process.
Meanwhile, Loki pressed himself against the side of a building. “Uncouth plebeians.”
Soon enough, Eva was packing and hurling snow. The three of us wailed on each other for a good thirty seconds before a passing group of young men joined in.
Two minutes later, we’d initiated a full-on snowball fight in the middle of downtown Novi Sad. I was pelted from every side, and eventually I had to stagger out of the thick of it. My hands had gone fully numb.
When I emerged out the other side of the throng, Loki slipped along the buildings toward me. He leapt two feet off the ground to avoid an errant snowball before he reached me.
I rubbed my hands together, blew into them. “Nice dodge.”
He came to my feet, scrabbled up my cloak. “This is all your fault.”
“Yeah.” We stood on the other side of the laughter and flying snow, watching. In the middle of it, Eva’s hair lifted from her head as she spun, her tinkling laughter echoing off the buildings. “I’m happy to say it is.”
He came close to my neck. “It’s almost midnight, you know.”
I rolled my eyes. “Do you have to remind me, Fairy Godmother?”
“I never thought I’d be the one saying this, but you shouldn’t be drunk on the job.”
“I’ll sober up by the time we get back.”
He went silent, but I could tell he was judging me from the way he wasn’t fully leaned into my neck. It would be fine, anyway—I would chug water as soon as I got back, sleep off the hangover and be in perfect shape by morning.
We hadn’t had a rescue in months. Chances were it wouldn’t happen in the next eight hours.
Twenty minutes later, Aidan and Eva finally emerged from the fight. They were both drenched, her hair hanging in purple icicles. Both of them ha
d red cheeks.
Eva pointed at me, then at the battle. “Look what you started.”
I raised an eyebrow. “But you’re grinning.”
Aidan rubbed one eye. “I think I have snow-induced retinal damage.”
“Gods.” Eva shook her hair out. “That was the most fun I’ve had in ages. Forget the sweets shop—they wouldn’t let me in now, anyway.”
So we struck through the streets back toward the leyline by the cathedral. When we passed through, it was just before midnight. We departed to our dorms, cold and wet and sleepy.
I forgot to drink water. I just stripped, showered, and collapsed into bed.
It felt like I’d been asleep for a whole sixty seconds when I heard it. My eyes snapped open in the darkness.
The low sound of the horn. For the first time in over two months, the guardians’ horn had come to life.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
I sat up in bed, my head pounding. “Loki.”
“I’m up,” his voice said from somewhere nearby. A thump sounded as he landed on the floor. “Meet you at the veil.”
What time was it? I threw my covers off and opened the door for him to slip out, struggled to pull on my clothes in the sliver of light cast by the ajar front door. First my pants, then my thermal shirt, then my riding boots.
By the time I’d gone for my cloak, the horn had crescendoed.
And now Eva was up. “Clem?”
“I have to go.”
I heard her get out of bed, move into the bathroom. “Did you drink water before we went to sleep?”
I swept my cloak around my neck, fastened it. “I can’t remember.”
She emerged with her sleek metal canteen, handed it to me. “You need this.”
“I don’t have time—”
“Drink it as you walk.” She forced it into my hand. “Trust me.”
With canteen in hand, I passed onto the landing and started down the steps toward the grounds as fast as my unsteady feet would take me.
This hangover was a bitch.
When my feet touched the frozen ground, I uncorked the canteen and upturned it as I made for the stables. Voices sounded in the night around me, and I glimpsed shadows above.
“Move it, Cole,” Circe called, a blue streak past me. “At this rate the whole thing’ll be done before you’ve gotten through the veil.”
Easy for her to say; she didn’t need to retrieve a horse.
I sprinted for the stables. Quartermistress Farrow was already there, leading Siren out into the aisleway.
When she spotted me, she nodded toward Noir’s stall. “He’s raring to go.”
When I approached the half-door, he nearly knocked me over as his head surged out. He snorted, knocked the door with his knee.
Farrow wasn’t kidding.
“Been too long, huh?” I unlatched the door, guided him out just as Fi arrived. At least I was faster than someone.
Farrow and Fi set to work saddling Siren.
I brought Noir out into the back paddock, mounted him. Farrow had already opened the gate into the night, which Noir had noticed. The moment I was on his back, he started for it. He seemed even more anxious to be off than me.
We galloped for the leyline; I hardly had to direct him this time. He seemed already to know exactly where to go.
As we came into the forest, I slowed him when I heard a meow ahead. Green eyes glittered in the pale moonlight.
I leaned halfway down, throwing my cloak to the side for Loki to climb up like a rope ladder. He climbed quick as Circe’s shadow, and when I straightened, he was already on my shoulder.
Umbra’s voice entered my head. Bucharest. One boy, sixteen. A vision of a street materialized in my head. Nearby, a block of old Soviet-style apartments, gray and geometric, rose ten stories high.
That was where we would arrive.
Bucharest. That wasn’t far from us.
Which meant it was the witching hour here. It was three in the morning.
“What are you waiting for?” Loki snapped.
“Yes, Lord.” I pressed my thighs into Noir’s side, and we galloped toward the leyline, where I found Fi standing beside her horse with the veil parted to seven feet in the air.
She nodded at me. “Saw it?”
“I saw it.” Hooves thundered behind us. When I glanced back, Akelan and Mishka were on their way. “Are the fae through?”
“They’re through,” Fi said. “When you get to the other, side you’ll see them.”
I ducked as I urged Noir through the veil. We stepped from the frozen forest floor onto asphalt, and the air warmed as the city’s residual heat enveloped us.
The city lay quiet and sprawling, the neighborhood street almost soundless except for the far-off rumble of cars.
Once upon a time I’d dreamed of traveling to Europe, cities like Bucharest. This wasn’t how I’d expected to experience Romania’s capital.
Fi came through after me, Siren’s hooves clattering. “We’re all here.” She walked Siren forward a few paces toward the apartment complex closest to us. “What’s the status?”
Above us, a voice called down, “Two of them heading east on the cross-street. They’re moving as one tight unit.”
I glanced up, spotted the vague, gray outline of a fae standing on top of a four-story apartment complex. It sounded like Elijah or Isaiah.
“Right. They’re avoiding the leyline because they know we’ll be coming this way.” Fi turned Siren in a circle. “Fae, track them. I’ll follow on the parallel street to keep them boxed in.”
Noir stamped with a resounding noise, and Fi glanced in our direction and then up. “Liara?”
“Here,” came Liara’s voice from above us.
“When you’ve got a good shot, take it. Elijah, Isaiah, whistle if you’ve got line of sight and you need Clementine for a coordinated attack.” She started Siren toward the nearest cross-street. “Let’s not waste any more time. I’ll be nearby.”
“Clementine,” came one of the twins from above, “let’s go.”
“I can smell them,” Loki said as I started Noir into a canter down the street. We took a right at the first cross-street, fae wings flying above and to the side of us. “Keep going this way.”
As we came onto the next road, more apartments greeted us, tall and gray and austere at either side of the street. Small cars lined the sides, narrowing our course. Fortunately for us, the roads weren’t trafficked at this time of night, so we didn’t have to skip onto the sidewalk or deal with headlights.
“I can see them,” Liara called down. “Three blocks ahead of us and moving fast to the outskirts of the city.”
“Toward what?” I called back.
“There’s hills all over,” one of the twins said. “Could be headed for a lesser point of power. We’re closing on them, though.”
I leaned forward, staring ahead.
In the same moment, Loki’s claws dug into my shirt. “Clementine.”
“What is it?”
“I smell them to the left.”
“But they’re ahead of us.”
“I know that,” he growled. “But they’re also to the left of us.”
I glanced left as we passed through an intersection, caught a glimpse of Fi’s horse keeping pace with me. “Where?” I said.
“Left, behind us.” I felt Loki shifting on my shoulder. “They’re following.”
“These ones are the Shade’s army, too?”
He paused, sniffing the air. “The scent is of dark magic. It’s very nearly the same.”
I hadn’t been prepared for this circumstance. In every scenario, we did the chasing. And there was always one group of them for us to pursue.
But tonight, they had split up.
The monsters were following us.
“Watchers,” I called up as we cantered, “Loki says there’s more of them following us. Southwest.”
One of the fae said something to the others, and I saw one of them break off
and fly over the street, disappearing behind a building in that direction.
“Elijah’s gone to check it out, and Liara’s going for the chase on the main group,” Isaiah called down. “Clem, be ready for a fight if she hits her target.”
I kept Noir at a canter, passing down the road without sapping his energy too much. My eyes were fixed ahead, waiting, waiting—
Then it happened. Lightning zig-zagged through the air toward the ground with a crackle, illuminating everything in its path. Including the creature.
The light disappeared just as quickly, and I was left with a searing spot in my vision. “Did she get it?” I whispered to Loki.
“Can’t tell.” Loki leaned forward. “But the smell is getting closer… Dodge!”
I swerved Noir, and we passed around a strange dark spot and the smell of burning in the center of the road.
“She got one,” Isaiah said down to us. “Not the one carrying the boy.”
Still, that was a victory. We had one less enemy to worry about.
“The other one took a hard left,” Isaiah said. “Take this cross-street, Clem.”
When I got to the corner, I veered Noir down the street, found Fi also turning ahead of me. She raced along on Siren, slowing to allow me to catch up so we could move together.
“Did you hear?” I said. “Loki scented a second group of them.”
“Elijah told me.” Fi was focused ahead. “I’ll keep them away as best I can. You stay with Liara and Isaiah. Wait for your moment.”
I nodded as Fi slowed Siren at the next corner, turned, and struck off down the cross-street.
Another bolt of lightning surged through the air ahead, shooting toward the ground. It sizzled when it hit the road, but this time it didn’t illuminate anything.
She had missed.
“Clem,” Isaiah said, “Liara needs a breather. We’ve got to coordinate.”
Even as he said it, I spotted Liara falling back, slowing to keep pace with us.
“Got it.” I sent Noir into a gallop as Isaiah flew ahead, leading the way. As long as I kept one eye on him, he’d show me which way to chase. And, most importantly, he’d give the cue for our attack.
