To the Eternal (Away From Whipplethorn Book Five)

by Hartoin, A. W.

  “You should be, but don’t worry about it,” I said.

  “What?”

  I pushed her aside and picked up Angelica as her mother screamed, “Uncle! Uncle, stop her! Kill her!”

  The pope looked at his niece sadly. “I cannot have this child murdered to protect Angelica. I tried to stop her from coming. I did wrong. I see that now. This is God’s will.”

  I put Angelica on my hip. “No, it was mine.”

  “You speak blasphemy,” he said with anger.

  “I speak the truth. I killed the horen in Vienna to save Iris. I did it and this happened to Margarite’s child. It’s my fault.”

  Margarite wept so hard that I could barely make out the words on her lips. “But why her? Why was my baby chosen?”

  “I don’t know how it works. It could’ve been anyone’s baby. I’m so sorry. I wish I hadn’t killed her.”

  Pope Joyous continued to weep and Margarite’s eyes pleaded with me for answers. I had none. She wiped her eyes and grabbed Angelica’s arm, moving it away from mine. A dollop of venom dropped onto the floor and sizzled on the metal. “Please. Don’t hurt her. Give me a chance to cure her. I’ll think of something. I’m her mother. I can do it.”

  Iris came over. “Love can do anything.”

  I looked at the small evil in my arms. Not this time.

  “Please,” said Margarite. “Don’t.”

  “I’m not going to hurt her. I don’t kill people unless they try to kill me first and Angelica can’t kill me anyway,” I said.

  Margarite’s shoulders shook. “She’s already harmed people. I’ll take her. She’ll hurt you.”

  “I’m immune.” I turned to the petrified crowd around the door and saw immediately that most of them didn’t know about Angelica. They were frozen in a kind of horrified fascination.

  Margarite reached for her baby, who chortled in my arms, much like a regular baby. She had fangs, but you know what I mean. “There’s no such thing. She will soon be able to kill.”

  “Maybe. She won’t kill me.”

  Another dollop of venom formed on the tip of Angelica’s claw and I let it fall on my open palm. Everyone gasped, but nothing happened. I let the venom roll off my hand to sizzle on the floor and showed my palm to the astonished group. “See. Immune.”

  “But how?” asked the sluagh. “The horen are deadly to every species in the fae.”

  I told them about our adventure in the antique mall and the horen arm that I had attached to my ankle. They doubted my story until I showed them my ankle. It wasn’t pretty, but finally, that was a good thing.

  “You’re immune,” said Margarite with wonder.

  Iris held out her arms to the baby. The little horen leaned toward her, holding out a chubby, dripping hand.

  “No, dear girl,” said Pope Joyous. “Your love won’t shield you.”

  “I don’t need it. I’m immune, too.” Iris took Angelica and the venom rolled down her arm, harmless as water.

  “How?” asked the sluagh. “You’re not a kindler.”

  Iris grinned. “But my sister is. Fire changes everything.” She told them about the antidote I made from the horen leg in Vienna.

  The pope looked at me with an expression that shamed me, but I didn’t care. I saved Iris. If cutting off Ambrosio’s leg condemned me, fine.

  “Yeah, I did it and I’m not sorry,” I said. “Iris is immune because of it.”

  The priest in the rough cassock stepped forward, his hands in the prayer position. “Do you have more of the antidote?”

  I held up the amulet that hung around my neck. “Most of it is in Austria. But we all have a dose on us.”

  Iris held up her amulet.

  The sluagh eyed it. “So if I took the antidote, I would be immune.”

  Thinking about stealing that amulet? Weasel.

  “Nope,” I said. “We tested that theory. You have to be dying of the venom and take the antidote just before death. Then the patient will be immune. The antidote does nothing on its own.”

  The crowd was visibly disappointed. I didn’t blame them. The fear of horen ran deep. I didn’t mention their explosive qualities. The venom was the thing that everyone dreaded.

  “So…” the sluagh’s scaly forehead creased in thought. “there could be a cure for this child.”

  “I don’t think so. She’s a horen through and through,” I said.

  Margarite tapped her lips and paced the room. We watched for a couple of minutes as a desperate mother tried to figure out how to save her child.

  “Margarite,” said the pope, “try not to get your hopes up.”

  She stopped and faced us. “You always say that hope is precious.”

  “It is, my dear, but she is a horen. They have always been what they are.”

  I thought of Horc, a spriggan, myself, a kindler, and the mindbenders. Everyone thought we were one thing and only one thing, a greedy child stealer, uncontrollable, and dangerous. We weren’t one thing. Maybe the horen weren’t either. Nobody had been able to get close enough to find out what else they could be. Iris and I could. Our immunity changed everything.

  “We don’t know that,” said the priest. “The princess uses her fire deliberately. Perhaps the venom can be controlled, too.”

  The pope shook his head. “We can’t even control the venom now and she is an infant. As I said, the horen have always been what they are.”

  “But maybe we don’t have to stay what we are,” said the sluagh. “The princess and her sister are immune.”

  “We cannot expect people to let themselves be attacked to get the antidote,” said Margarite. She was still thinking—thinking hard.

  “But we have the antidote. And we have Angelica. Perhaps we can develop an inoculation, like we did for snail pox.”

  “There’s a cure for snail pox?” I asked.

  “Not a cure. A prevention,” said Margarite. “We developed it five years ago. All the fae in Rome have been inoculated. We have given the formula to the other states in Italy and we are slowly driving out the disease.”

  “That’s amazing,” said Iris. “We could do that for horen venom. Then nobody would have to be afraid of Angelica.”

  She’ll still be evil, but yeah.

  Margarite came over. “You won’t hurt her? Please say you’ll let us try.”

  “I won’t, but I still need your help.”

  Her face went blank.

  “I have a dragon with a stuck egg. Can you save her? She needs a C-section.”

  “Who told you this?” she asked.

  “Lucian Galen.”

  “Ah, yes. I have heard of his skill. His daughter is the Great Healer. He would know.”

  “Will you help?” asked Iris. “She’s such a good dragon.”

  “I’ll get my bag,” said Margarite.

  Margarite left for Aldo’s place with a couple of bags and six flasks of white willow tea. She was frightened to leave Angelica alone, but Iris promised to stay with the little horen until she got back. That was a good thing, because nobody else was going to volunteer, including me. It didn’t help that she bit Iris and tried to flick venom at the cardinals. Margarite wanted me to stay, but there was a battle going on.

  I left the desk with the priest and several guards. The priest said he was Father Clement before we took off and he continued to talk the whole time. He hadn’t figured out that I was deaf, so I just nodded and hoped he wasn’t saying anything important since the only words I caught on his lips were “Apostolic Palace” and “chair.”

  We flew at top speed through multiple rooms, each more lavish than the last. We ended up in a huge room that reminded me of The Room of the Fireplace in the Palazzo Grimini in Venice with lots of marble inlaid in intricate designs on the floor and walls with paintings above the marble. We flew to a plain door and Father Clement grabbed me by the foot.

  I flipped around.

  “Did you not hear me?” he asked.

  “Er…no, I guess not.”


  “I have to hold your hand so you can go through the barrier.”

  I held out my hand and we flew through the glass that wasn’t glass. It was a spell that held us back for a moment and then passed through us. Then we were outside. We flew around buildings and into the piazza in front of St. Peter’s. In moments, we were inside. I caught a glimpse of the Pieta as we raced by to the altar. The human pope and the rest of the officials were gone. The humans were filing out of their seats, making a great noise. On the altar, the candlestick had been placed upright again and there were some bodies scattered across the top, a few phalanx and cliff fairies, lots of bissabova, papal guards, and de’ Medici.

  There wasn’t any fighting. The two sides had split. Ours was on the right and I spotted The Commander easily. He stood on a trussed up bissabova, chomping on his stick. Bentha danced beside the bissabova, parrying and thrusting his sword. “My lady has returned!”

  We landed on the altar and were immediately surrounded by phalanx. Father Clement moved in close to me. “Will they attack us?”

  “They won’t attack me,” I said.

  “Princess! We have an agreement,” he said with hands shaking.

  “I know. I was kidding.” I had to admit the phalanx were intimidating, scuttling around under their shells. Father Gregory shivered at the noise they made. Iris always said it was unpleasant. I couldn’t know, but they were creepy enough without the noise.

  “Commander, can you tell your troops to back off?” I called out.

  He waved his stick at me. “Took you long enough. Were you signing the Treaty of Albutson in there?”

  No idea what that is.

  “Well, we have an agreement.”

  “Alright, boys. Back off and let ‘em through,” said The Commander.

  The shells separated, making a path for us, and we walked up to the bissabova, who eyed me with loathing.

  “What happened here?” I asked.

  “We’re at an impasse. We joined forces to drive out those Reich’s Fae and then I captured their leaders.” He stomped on the bissabova and Bentha poked a tatzelwurm none too gently with his sword tip.

  “So you won. Great.” I looked around and got queasy. “Where are Gerald and Horc?”

  “That’s the impasse part,” said The Commander. “They got ‘em.”

  “Bentha!”

  The ponderosa did several complicated maneuvers. “Cowards use children as hostages. I will free them as soon as may be.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Father Clement, can you go tell them it’s over?”

  He bowed and headed over to the crowd of tatzelwurms, papal guard, and de’ Medicis, all scowling in our direction. When I turned back around, Ruffiano marched up, bloody but smiling with both Montagues and Capulets behind him. He bowed and said, “Your Highness.”

  “You fought for us?” I asked. “I’m grateful, but why?”

  Ruffiano told me that Claudia, Hercule’s seer, had returned to Verona, bloody, and told him about the de’ Medici attacking. Hercule decided to come clean about what he’d done to help us. The Montagues and Capulets decided the de’ Medicis attacking Claudia and us was an insult to their honor for reasons I couldn’t quite understand. They’d been happy to get rid of us and the next thing you know, they went to Florence to get us back. I think they just liked to fight. Since they weren’t fighting each other any more, the de’ Medicis would have to do. Ruffiano found out we’d escaped and figured we’d go to Rome, so they followed us here to find us in the middle of another battle.

  “We saved the day,” announced Ruffiano.

  “Incorrect,” said Bentha. “I captured the tatzelwurm to save the day.”

  “We got the bissabova,” said Oliverio, coming up behind Ruffiano.

  “This is true. We will fight for supremacy,” said Bentha. “On guard, you Renaissance rascals.”

  Oliverio and Bentha assumed the first position and went off into an epic sword fight.

  “Um…they’re happy, right?” I asked.

  “Oh, yeah,” said The Commander. “Happy as a horen killing civilians.”

  Ruffiano stared at him for a moment. “Yes, and we also have something that belongs to you.”

  “What?” I asked.

  “Bring her out!”

  Leanna walked out from behind one of the candlesticks with a couple of Capulets. When she saw me, she ran full tilt across the altar. “Your Highness, you’re okay?”

  “I’m fine. What about you?”

  “None the worse for wear,” the nanny said with dignity, although she looked like the de’ Medici had been less than gentle. She was covered in bruises and cuts.

  I frowned and flames sizzled to life in my palms.

  “They wanted to know where you’d gone,” she said, tilting up her chin. “But I wouldn’t say.”

  Ruffiano grimaced. “They already knew you would go to Rome. They enjoy torture. It’s a good thing we got there when we did.”

  “Um…about that,” I said, nudging the bissabova with my toe. “Aren’t you going to be in trouble with Venice? The doge wanted me stopped and not helped.”

  “His orders didn’t sit well with us. Attacking children has no honor,” said Ruffiano.

  I stamped my foot. “I’m no child. I got through to Rome.”

  “I meant your brothers and sister.”

  “Good.”

  A faint smile crossed his lips. “Of course, Your Highness. In light of these events, we are rethinking our alliances. Particularly with The Reich’s Fae coming to Rome. Invading the sovereignty of Italy cannot be tolerated. All the city-states must band together.”

  The bissabova hissed and Ruffiano gave him a boot to the rear. “Quiet, lizard. The princess would’ve been here days ago if it weren’t for you.”

  “And you,” the sea serpent hissed.

  “I have helped Her Highness.”

  “The galen helped her.”

  They went back and forth about who did what to me. Banding together against The Reich’s Fae wasn’t going to be easy. Father Clement flew back over to me. “They want you to state your terms.”

  Victory popped up from the diamond formation and hopped from shell to shell. “Unconditional surrender!”

  The Commander tossed his stump of a stick aside and pulled out a fresh one from a spot on his abdomen. “Got a light?” he asked me.

  I held up a flaming finger and he lit his stick, eyeing his tiny son.

  Father Clement got anxious. “Your Highness, I don’t know how long they’ll wait. They have quite a few wounded and they’re not taking my word that His Holiness has changed his mind about capturing you.”

  “They’ll wait,” said The Commander.

  “Sir, you have no say here,” said the priest. “You are a banned species.”

  “Nobody bans me.”

  “Father,” I said, “The Commander is my commander. He will set the terms.”

  Victory hopped up and down, pumping his fist. “Unconditional surrender! Unconditional surrender!”

  The Commander pointed his smoking stick at his son. “Boy, are you in command?”

  Victory dropped his spindly arm and looked up with big eyes. “No, sir.”

  “Remember that.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The Commander took a puff on his stick. His expression didn’t change, but something softened. “Look, boy. You’ll be in command someday, but not today.”

  Fist pump. “I am Victory!”

  “That is not your name. Your name is Golok.”

  The tiny phalanx put his fists on his nonexistent hips. “Victory.”

  “Golok.”

  “Victory. It is decided.” He jumped onto my hand. “Tell him my name is Victory Steyr-Mannlicher Whipplethorn.”

  “Well…,” I said.

  “It is not,” said The Commander.

  “I will it!”

  “So you were saying he’s just like you were?” I asked The Commander.

  “I take it
back.” The Commander turned to Father Clement. “We will exchange prisoners now.”

  The sluagh cardinal arrived and Father Clement turned to him for approval.

  “Yes, tell them to release the children,” said the cardinal, nodding to The Commander. “His Holiness gives you and your troops safe passage in the eternal city.”

  The Commander thanked him and cut the restraints on the bissabova and the tatzelwurm. Both complained bitterly, but the cardinal was having none of it. He sent them to the other side to take stock of their losses.

  Gerald ran across the altar, lugging Horc. He thrust the spriggan into my arms and hugged Leanna. “You’re okay.”

  Leanna kissed his forehead. “I’m fine, but what about your sisters?”

  Gerald glanced at me. I could tell my rank was definitely lower than Leanna’s, but he gave me a cursory hug.

  “Matilda?” He pulled back, shaking. “Where is it? Did you kill it?”

  The Commander stalked over. “Kill what?” Then he sniffed. “Horen.”

  I held Gerald’s shaking shoulders. “It’s okay. It can’t hurt you.”

  “‘Cause you killed it?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “What are we waiting for?” asked The Commander. “Cardinal, are you concealing a horen?”

  The sluagh pulled up to his considerable height. “You have no right—”

  “It’s a baby,” I said.

  Everyone gathered around. I hadn’t planned on telling Gerald or anyone about Angelica, but there was no avoiding it now. I explained what happened and not surprisingly, nobody was happy.

  “You should’ve killed it,” said Gerald.

  “Agreed,” said The Commander. “You can’t lose the chance the contain the evil.”

  “What about the horen in the antique mall? Who’s protecting the mall with you here?” I asked.

  He took a puff. “Nothing to protect. The horen left when word came that you were in Vienna.”