by E.J. Stevens
I gave an involuntary shudder, and stepped further from the door. Mistletoe was pure evil. Not only was the plant poisonous if eaten, but most people thought it meant mandatory kissing, which was a nightmare for a touch phobe like me. Even worse, mistletoe reminded me of the sacrificial murders I’d witnessed on the winter solstice.
I’d seen enough of that damn plant to last a lifetime.
“Don’t worry, dear,” Kaye said. “It’s not the real thing. Only a plastic ornament that Hob found while dusting and sorting the solstice decorations.”
Yeah, I was sure he just innocently came across that ornament. Mab save us all from bored hearth brownies and gullible bridge trolls.
“Should e seen ye face, lass,” Hob said, slapping his knee with his hat, and letting out a whoop of laughter.
“No kiss?” Marvin asked.
The teenaged bridge troll blushed, and ducked his head. He was well over six feet tall and wide as an ox, but the kid was still shy, even around his new friends. I wasn’t good around people either, but make no mistake, Marvin was a friend. One of the best.
I’d witnessed the beating that the kid had suffered at the hands of the each uisge—that vision still haunted me—but I’d never touched Marvin. I’d managed to get that vision off a carnival token, and since then I’d given the kid a wide berth. Marvin had survived one of the worst beatings I’d ever seen, all while trying to survive on the streets after his father’s death left him an orphan. He’d suffered a lot of pain, and I hadn’t wanted to relive that.
I’d been a selfish fool.
It’s funny how clear things seem when you’re facing down death. Love and friendship, those were the things that were important. My own selfish fears no longer mattered.
“I think someone owes me a kiss,” I said.
I forced myself to smile, and walked up to Marvin, standing on tiptoe so the kid wouldn’t have to kneel to kiss my cheek.
“On the lips, lad, on the lips!” Hob heckled.
Marvin shook his head, and rubbed the back of his neck.
“Nah,” he said. “Don’t want a rash.”
Wait, what?
Marvin didn’t give me any more time to think about his comment. He leaned in, and gave me a big, wet kiss on the cheek. I had enough time to think that the kid needed some practice kissing girls, and then the vision dragged me under.
Except for a few fond memories from Marvin’s childhood, the vision was predictably sad. He’d lost his father, his home, and been beaten to within an inch of his life by vicious water fae. The beating went on forever, and I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from losing my sense of self. As it was, I’d never forget the feeling of being a child alone on the streets, my blood leaking into the ground as the each uisge knocked out my teeth, and broke my bones.
Hot tears leaked out of my eyes, and I remembered that I had a body of my own, one that wasn’t beaten and torn. I fought my way to the surface of the vision, struggling to keep my sanity—struggling to stay me. I caught one last glimpse of memory, this one a proud moment when Marvin launched a pixie nest at a man who was making other children suffer.
I knew from Marvin’s steely determination that he would never let another child suffer like he had. The pride and fear I felt for Marvin helped to pull me back to myself, a separate being with my own mind and body.
I gasped, eyes flying open to see Marvin’s worried face. I gave him a thumbs up, and he lifted his chin and beamed from ear to ear. Let the kid think the kiss had knocked my socks off. He could use the ego boost, and it wasn’t a total lie. It had certainly been one hell of an experience.
He thrust out his chest and strode over to where Hob perched wide-eyed.
“Why didn’t ye kiss the lass on the lips?” Hob asked.
His furry brow was furrowed, and his knobby hands were fisted on his hips. Honestly, I think the curmudgeonly old brownie was just ticked off because his little game hadn’t turned out the way he wanted. Hob probably expected Marvin to end up with a tongue lashing from Kaye, or a fist in the face from yours truly.
Hob and Marvin were friends, but brownies were mischievous, Hob more than most. If I had to guess, I’d say it was from living beneath Kaye’s hearth. The old witch was rubbing off on him.
Marvin shook his head, and smiled.
“Didn’t want poison ivy,” he said. “Itches worse than pixie spit.”
Clever kid. Poison Ivy was Marvin’s nickname for me, and he never tired of making jokes about my prickly nature. It was his way of making light of my touch phobia, and giving an excuse for not getting too close. Now he’d used it as a reason to avoid kissing me on the lips, to which I was grateful. I thought of the kid like a younger brother. It would have been creepy if he’d tried to kiss me on the lips, not that Hob cared a wit.
“Okay now,” Kaye said, the bells on her skirt jingling as she bustled across the kitchen. “You boys have had your fun. How about we let Ivy sit down, and we can all enjoy a cup of tea.”
I raised an eyebrow, but took a seat on the bench that ran down one side of a long, wooden table. The table straddled the modern kitchen that was the witch’s domain, and the old world style room that held Hob-o’-Waggle’s hearth. I set a shiny toy airplane that I’d made from a piece of aluminum foil on Hob’s side of the table.
It would be foolish to enter a hearth brownie’s territory without providing a gift. You just have to make sure not to give the gift of clothing, or the diminutive faerie might take offense. A pissed off brownie was likely to tie your hair into pixie locks while you slept, and leave you with a cold, empty hearth. I didn’t want to be on a receiving end of Hob’s wrath, or Kaye’s either, for that matter. I was pretty sure forgiveness would be low on her to-do list, if I sent her hearth brownie packing.
“Here ye go, lass,” Hob said.
A cup of tea appeared before me, as if by magic, and with a flash the tiny plane disappeared into one of the pockets of Hob’s patchwork coat. Brownies can move faster than the human eye, even faster than my enhanced sight, making them nearly invisible when they wanted to be. Jinx once commented that Hob was like a kitchen ninja, and I had to agree.
“Are you prepared for the solstice?” Kaye asked, sitting on the opposite side of the table and sipping her tea.
“I was born ready,” I said with forced bravado. Fake it ‘till you make it, right?
“You haven’t told that human girl, have you?” she asked.
I sighed, and rubbed a hand over my face. Kaye never cared for Jinx, but her attitude toward my best friend had tipped into open disdain when Jinx started dating Forneus. She thought that Jinx was nothing more than a silly, clumsy human who made bad decisions. In other words, Kaye saw Jinx as a liability. In the past, I’d tried to argue that Jinx couldn’t be held responsible for being unlucky, but Kaye wouldn’t listen.
I considered explaining that Forneus was actually a good match for Jinx, but I’d rather choke on my own tongue. Forneus had vowed to protect Jinx, and his love for her was obvious, but I still had a hard time accepting the troublesome demon. I wasn’t quite ready to become his staunch defender, though I’d already given him a letter to open if he didn’t hear from me in a week’s time. I’d left him strict instructions that if I didn’t make it back from Faerie, he was to take care of Jinx, or I’d come back from the grave and kill him myself.
“No, Kaye,” I said. “I haven’t told Jinx about Faerie. And I don’t plan on it. I’m not going to paint a target on my best friend’s back.”
I also didn’t need to get any higher up on the faerie court’s shit list. No matter how much I wanted to let my best friend in on my plan, telling Jinx about my father’s key to Faerie was not an option.
“Good,” she said. “Now drink your tea before it gets cold.”
I gulped my tea, and grimaced. I didn’t recognize the bitter taste, never a good thing when drinking tea in a witch’s kitchen. I just hoped that Hob hadn’t intentionally tried to poison me. Maybe he didn’t like the
gift I’d given him after all.
“Hob, is there anything you want me to bring you back from Faerie?” I asked.
I wasn’t opposed to a little bribery, if it kept our resident hearth brownie happy.
“Just bring yeself back in one piece, lass,” he said, shaking his head. “And get this mess with the courts straightened out. Olga says that the gnomes can’t sleep for all the hollerin and singin the pookahs be makin over your death.”
Olga was Hob’s sweetheart. The female gnome was one of a clan I’d helped to relocate to my mother and stepfather’s garden out in the suburbs. I’d also given a pack of pookahs my old tree house in return for helping us fight the each uisge. I wasn’t sure if the party loving pookahs were really mourning my death, or just wanted an excuse for one of their drunken orgies. With pookahs, it might be a bit of both.
“Sorry,” I said with a wince. “You haven’t told anyone that I’m alive, have you?”
“No, lass, not even dear Olga,” he said. “Though it pains me to keep a secret from her.”
I fidgeted with my teacup, staring at the leather gloves covering my hands. I knew from experience just how difficult it was to keep secrets from the people we loved. Some days it seemed like I’d spent my entire life living a lie.
I pushed aside the tea and stood, every muscle protesting as I slowly came to my feet. I ran a hand through my hair, wondering what to say next. I wasn’t going to kid myself. This might be the last time I saw my friends. Faerie was a dangerous place where the local flora and fauna would likely kill me and then fight over who got to eat my corpse and pick their teeth with my bones.
“I’m no good at goodbyes,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck.
“Till next time then, lass,” Hob said.
“Until we meet again, dear,” Kaye said.
“Yeah, um, I’ll miss you guys,” I said.
“You’re coming back, right?” Marvin asked, looking back and forth, watching our somber faces in confusion.
“I…” I said, my throat choking on the words.
Somehow, after all he’d been through, Marvin remained the most innocent of us all. I loved him for that. He had a way of seeing the beauty in a world that I’d long ago decided was too ugly to look at.
Saying goodbye to Marvin was the hardest of all.
“I’ll try, big guy,” I said.
For Marvin, I would try. That kid had lost everyone, and I refused to add to his pain. I’d fight to survive, and I’d wear my hands to blood stumps digging my way out of the grave, but there were no guarantees that Marvin would see me again. I couldn’t promise to return. I refused to lie to the kid—he deserved better than that.
“Remember, dear,” Kaye said, pretending not to see my tears. “Your father’s key leads to a back door, a secret entrance to his demesne. Entry will not be easy.”
“No, I don’t expect it to be,” I said. I wiped my face, and shook my head. “Nothing associated with Faerie is ever easy.”
“At least you’ve learned that, if nothing else,” she said with a satisfied nod.
“So this back door, you think it’ll dump me in my father’s study—like a hidden entrance behind a bookcase?” I said.
I forced a laugh, but it came out flat.
This wasn’t an episode of Scooby Doo, and we both knew it. Hidden doorways wouldn’t open behind a bookcase into a nice, safe office, and the monsters wouldn’t just be bumbling thieves wearing Halloween masks. The closest I’d come to jumping out from a secret tunnel behind a bookcase and unmasking my enemies, would be using my second sight to see through their glamour—to see monsters who wanted to eat my face. A tidy mission that wrapped up without someone shedding blood was a happy fantasy.
“I don’t know where the portal will spit you out, how close or how far away from the wisp court, but be wary of Mab’s minions,” she said. “The wisp court is in Nithsdale, within the shadow of the Ice Palace, Mab’s seat of power.”
“But Mab left Faerie over two hundred years ago, along with Oberon and Titania,” I said.
“The queen of cold and darkness doesn’t need to be within the Faerie realms to be a threat,” she said. “Her influence is widespread, but nowhere is she so revered as the Unseelie lands of Faerie. Heed my warning, and stay away from the Ice Palace and the Forest of Torment.”
“With a name like, ‘Forest of Torment’, how can I resist?” I asked with mock bravado.
“Ivy,” she said, eyes hard.
“I’m kidding, sorry,” I said.
“Good,” she said with a sigh. “The Forest of Torment is said to be sentient, and steeped in evil. The frozen trees guard the way to the Ice Palace, keeping unwanted guests out by dismembering intruders, and drinking the blood of Mab’s enemies.”
Got it. No trips to the Ice Palace.
“So, what do you know about Nithsdale?” I asked.
“Only that it is a dangerous place, as all the Unseelie lands are, but the Wisp Court is said to be a kind of paradise for the smaller Unseelie creatures,” she said.
“A paradise?” I asked.
That didn’t sound so bad.
“So long as you don’t mind being surrounded by a bog that belches poisonous gas, and swallows men whole,” she said.
Of course it had a deadly bog. We were talking about a wisp paradise after all.
“Sounds like fun,” I said. “Home sweet home. Anything else I should know?”
I ducked quickly beneath the mistletoe and into the passageway outside the spell kitchen, but shot Kaye one last glance over my shoulder, eyebrows raised. The witch stared back, lips in a tight line, and I knew the answer was grim.
“Humans who enter Faerie rarely return,” she said. “In the Wisp Court, you will need to rely on the power within your blood, if you ever wish to see Harborsmouth again.”
I sighed, and waved one last goodbye as I made my way to the exit. Needing to embrace my fae half was not a comforting thought. I wanted to go home—to the loft, not some fae infested swamp—crawl into bed, and hide under the blankets. Either that or go count my weapons. Instead, I readied myself for what might be one last night with my boyfriend.
I’d died once before, and faced death a number of times in the past. I knew all about regrets. This time, I was going to make the best of what time I had left.
Chapter 10
I brushed my hair, getting ready for my date. I didn’t usually take the extra effort, but tonight was different. I wanted to make it extra special.
I had even managed to sneak in a few hours of beauty sleep this afternoon. Maybe I was still dreaming.
Jinx was leaning against the door to my room as if we never had our fight in the junkyard. In fact, she was acting as if I’d never told her about the lead I had on finding my father. I was happy to put our fight behind us, but the way she ignored the entire conversation put me on edge.
I was sure she was just waiting for a chance to get me back for keeping secrets. Oh well. If those secrets kept her safe, I was willing to cope with the awkwardness, and her eventual revenge.
“You should see if that hot piece of kelpie king you call a boyfriend has any new leads on your father,” Jinx said, waggling her eyebrows.
The waggling was for Ceffyl Dwr, not my father. At least I hoped she didn’t have the hots for my dad. For a moment, I was actually happy she was dating Forneus. Jinx had a thing for bad boys, and my father’s curse put him squarely in bad boy territory.
“I’ll ask Ceff when I see him tonight,” I said.
“Tonight?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said, tilting my head to get a better look at her. “It’s date night, remember?”
“Oh crap,” she said. “I haven’t even decided what to wear.”
Jinx ran to her room, and I frowned. She must have been more worried about the wisp infestation at her father’s junkyard than I’d thought. Either that or she was really distracted plotting her revenge. With my luck, it was probably the latter.
Dat
e night had been her idea. It had been difficult to see Ceff lately, since with me being dead he had no reason to come by the apartment. A kelpie king had no business with a human woman, not unless he decided to drown her, eat her flesh, and pick his teeth with her bones. Thankfully, Ceff didn’t make a habit of eating my friends, but it didn’t help with a cover story.
So Ceff and I slunk around, meeting in dark alleys and ritzy hotels. The dark alleys were all I could afford, but they weren’t very romantic. They also tended to be crawling with the prying eyes of the fae and the undead. That meant that occasionally, Ceff managed to talk me into dressing like socialites and meeting in classy hotels.
I didn’t like that the hotels were on his dime, but I also couldn’t risk the kinds of visions that ran rampant inside the seedier dive hotels that were within my budget. For tonight, he’d picked a new swanky place uptown.
That meant shimmying into a long, red cocktail dress and donning satin opera gloves. For once, I looked like the princess that I was.
I’d have preferred my leather gloves, but they wouldn’t have gone with the dress. My new, Clurichaun crafted leather jacket—a gift from Ceff to replace the one I’d lost in the Otherworld realm of Emain Ablach—was another story. I shrugged it on over my dress and slid on a pair of dark sunglasses. Maybe people would think I was a celebrity out for a night on the town.
Of course, most celebrities didn’t go out armed to battle monsters. If my Hunter friend Jenna had taught me anything, it was to never go unarmed. In addition to the anti-fae charms I kept stashed in my jacket pockets, I wore iron and silver throwing knives strapped to each thigh. This dress wouldn’t be easy to run in, but the slit up the side gave me access to my weapons. I piled my dark hair on top of my head, and held it in place with two sharp, wooden hair sticks that would double as stakes.
The fae were the ones gunning for me, but you couldn’t be too careful. As Jenna was fond of saying, a good vampire is a staked vampire. My Hunter friend may be on another continent, but I still listened to her advice.
