by J. C. Diem
“Their existence isn’t known to ordinary humans,” I said as we reached my truck and piled inside. The barn was large enough to hold all three of our vehicles with room to spare. It had been in far better shape than the house and had only needed minor repairs. “The leaders of the teams of hunters are told where the closest Archives are to their base,” I went on. “They usually make an appointment when they need to visit one.”
“But not us,” Harley said, he’d taken the front seat before Pru could claim it. “We’re just going to show up unannounced and barge our way in there.”
“That’s Jake’s style, lad,” Rudy said proudly from the backseat. “He doesn’t play by the rules and he always gets what he wants.” That was a running joke between us and usually only cropped up when talking about a woman I was attracted to.
“He certainly doesn’t follow the speed limit,” Pru said, holding on for dear life as I raced down the dirt driveway.
Rudy sat between the girls with his legs stretched out fully. He didn’t bother to strap himself in like the rest of us. He could easily teleport himself to safety if we had an accident. “So, what does everyone think of Leroy?” he asked with a smirk.
“He’s disrespectful, foulmouthed and oafish,” the witch replied.
“He called me a honky,” Harley said with a half-smile. “I’ve never heard that term before, but I’m guessing it’s a slang term black people used to use to describe white people.”
“It was a term that he probably heard a lot when he was growing up,” I explained. “His father most likely used it when speaking about white men. Leroy would have been born in the fifties, and it was still used sometimes back then.”
“I keep forgetting how ancient you are,” the kid said, shaking his head a little.
Once we were on the highway, I put my foot down. We reached the Archives in an hour just as I’d estimated. It was a few miles away from a major town and it was set on several acres of woods. Cameras were discreetly watching the gate and would alert the Archivist that he had guests.
“He’ll know we’re here,” Harley said, noting the cameras. He automatically checked the Glock he had strapped in a shoulder harness beneath his left arm. My Colt was in its usual place on my right hip. Both of us had assorted knives on our belts or stashed in our pockets. Neither of the girls, nor Rudy, were armed.
“Is that it?” Pru asked in disappointment when we drove down the long driveway that was flanked by elm trees and came to a small house. “I thought the Archives would be more impressive than that.”
“The house is just a decoy,” I told her. “The Archives are beneath the ground.”
“I bet it won’t hold a candle to the Main Archives in Rosethorn,” Harley predicted as I came to a stop near the house. He might not remember meeting Spencer Von Hades, but his memories of the place where his boss had worked seemed to be intact.
We climbed out and approached the door. I’d driven slowly enough to give the Archivist time to prepare for us. The door was yanked open before I could knock and a shotgun was pointed at my face. “What sort of creatures are you?” the Archivist demanded before I could speak. Tall and slender, his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down when he swallowed. His hands trembled slightly in fear as he confronted us. The Archives were warded against certain supernatural creatures. They’d warned him that some of us weren’t human. Rudy, Asha and I weren’t classed as evil, so the wards wouldn’t actually keep us out.
“I’m half fae,” I said.
“I’m a leprechaun,” Rudy added.
“I’m supposed to be a dryad,” Asha told him.
“I’m a witch,” Pru said proudly.
The Archivist looked at Harley, waiting for him to divulge what he was. “I’m just a human hunter,” the kid said.
“Half fae?” the Archivist repeated with his gun still aimed at me. “May I ask what your name is?”
“I’m Jake Everett.”
He nodded as if I’d confirmed his suspicions and lowered the shotgun. “I thought it was you, but I had to be sure. Please forgive me for the rude welcome,” he said and ran a shaky hand through his messy light brown hair. It immediately fell into his eyes again. “Our new Master Archivist said we’re to give you access to any information you may need, Mr. Everett. Please, come in.” He swept his hand at the doorway and stepped aside to allow us to enter.
“I didn’t realize you were famous, Jake,” Harley said as he followed me inside.
“Oh, all of the Archivists know who Mr. Everett is,” the Archivist said. He was in his late twenties and wore a rumpled brown suit and scuffed brown shoes. His eyes were brown as well, giving him a monochromatic look. “Ms. Harwood gave us all a file on the Hunter Elite as well, so we would know each of them on sight,” he added.
“Who is Ms. Harwood?” Pru asked as we filed inside.
“Let’s wait until we’re in the Archives before we get to the introductions,” our guide said. He flicked a nervous look outside before closing and locking the door. He seemed worried that someone might be spying on us.
The house was small and was furnished with mismatched pieces that had probably come from a secondhand store. They were just props that he would use only rarely. Old, faded brown carpet covered the floor and floral wallpaper was peeling off the walls. He led us down the hall to his office. Bookshelves lined the wall to the left and a small wooden desk sat directly across from the door. A few metal filing cabinets hunkered behind the desk.
Like the other Archives I’d been to, a button beneath his desk opened a hidden elevator in the wall. Asha let out a small gasp when one of the bookshelves swung open to reveal the metal doors. “It’s a bit small,” our host said apologetically as he left his seat and hurried over to push the button to call the elevator to us. “We’ll have to make it down in two trips.”
“No, we won’t, lad,” Rudy said pityingly. “I’ll take the boys downstairs. You can escort the ladies.” He teleported Harley and me down to the Archives that were two floors below us.
Harley lurched a step and flicked an annoyed look at the leprechaun for the lack of warning. “I’m never going to get used to that,” he complained, then looked around curiously.
Bookcases stretched out for a couple of hundred yards to our left and right. Tall shelves were crammed full of books and journals of long dead hunters. No knowledge was wasted or discarded. Each volume would be catalogued on a computer to make it easy to find what we were looking for. I hoped one of them had the knowledge we needed to figure out what type of monster would soon be returning to Devil’s Peak.
Chapter Twenty
Several sets of tables and chairs had been placed around the room. They had green bankers’ lights to illuminate them. Fluorescent lights buzzed quietly overhead, casting harsh white light downwards. This Archives lacked the charm of the Main Archives. It was functional, but that was all. The floor was bare concrete and the walls were an off white color that looked almost dirty. The bookcases were made of durable metal that had been painted black.
I spied the Archivist’s office off to the right and a kitchen and bathroom to the left. A spiral wrought iron staircase in a corner of the room led to the upper floor. The setup was the same in every Archives I’d been to. Sleeping quarters, an armory, a much larger kitchen and living and dining areas would be on the floor above us. There would be enough beds to hold up to sixty hunters. This could act as a place for hunters to congregate in the case of an emergency.
The elevator dinged to signal its arrival, then the doors opened. Pru stepped out warily with Asha on her heels. Both women examined the library in awe as our guide ushered them towards us. “My name is Brandon Cooper,” he said. “I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance.” He gave us a short bow, then my team introduced themselves. “What brings you here?” he queried when he’d heard our names.
“Something is killing people in Devil’s Peak,” Pru told him.
“Devil’s Peak?” Brandon said and lifted a brown eyebro
w. “Is that where you’re based?” He flicked me a look and I suspected the file Sheridan Harwood had given her minions had more of my history in it than I liked. My glamor couldn’t scrub the memory of me when it was printed out on paper, or was kept electronically on a computer. Every time he opened my file, he would be reminded of me again.
“That’s where we’ve ended up,” Rudy said, cutting him off before he could ask any uncomfortable questions. Not even the leprechaun knew why I’d chosen Devil’s Peak to be my new home. My history wasn’t something I’d divulged to anyone.
“What sort of monster are you dealing with?” the Archivist asked.
“The trees said it’s something like Bigfoot,” Asha explained.
“I’m sorry,” Brandon said politely. “Did you just say that ‘trees’ told you that?”
“She’s a dryad,” I reminded him. He probably hadn’t heard anything after I told him I was half fae and he’d figured out who I was. “She can understand trees.”
“Right, of course,” he said, forcing out a stiff smile. “What else did the trees say?”
“Not much,” Harley replied. “Just that this thing took off, but that it’ll be back soon and then everyone in the town will be slaughtered.”
“That doesn’t sound like a sasquatch,” Brandon said doubtfully. “Have you seen the creature?” I told him what we knew and what we’d seen for ourselves, which wasn’t much. “Hmm,” he mused. “Why don’t I make us all some coffee, then I’ll do a bit of research? I have a program I can add this information to. It might be able to help us narrow down what sort of monster you have on your hands.”
“I’ll help you,” Pru offered, then followed him to the kitchen. Asha ambled over to the nearest bookcase with Harley’s eyes following her. Brandon hadn’t seemed to be affected by the girl yet. He was too shocked to find me on his doorstep to really focus on the others. His boss had done her research if she’d dug up my secrets. It was even more incentive for me to avoid the woman, not that she was human. That much I was sure of.
The Archivist and witch returned a few minutes later with a tray of coffee and a plate of cookies. “I’ll feed the information you’ve given me into my database and see what it comes up with,” Brandon said. He seemed excited at the prospect of being able to help us.
Harley waited for the Archivist to vanish into his office before speaking. “That guy has ‘nerd’ written all over him.” After that pronouncement, he bit into a cookie.
“That’s not very nice,” Pru said in disapproval, stirring milk and two sugars into her coffee. “He’s helping us. You should show him more respect.”
“I respect nerds,” the kid said in self-defense. “Without them, we wouldn’t have computers and cell phones.”
“He didn’t even notice me,” Asha said in wonder. “That spell seems to be working well.” It wasn’t really a spell, but I didn’t correct her. She would learn the intricacies of how to use her innate power over time.
“The Archivist is too starstruck by Jake to pay any attention to the rest of us,” Rudy said dourly. Brandon hadn’t even blinked when he’d heard that my sidekick was a leprechaun.
“He’s not wrong,” Pru added, checking that our host wasn’t within hearing distance. “He raved about Jake the entire time we were in the kitchen.”
“He did help save the world,” Asha said in my defense, then wilted when everyone looked at her. She wasn’t used to speaking up and it would take time for her to come out of her shell. I was impressed with how well she was acclimatizing to not being locked up in a cell. It helped that she’d remained confined to the hotel and now to our house. She wasn’t ready to be out in the world among people just yet.
While we were waiting for Brandon’s program to run, I perused the shelves and searched for books about dryads. Finding half a dozen volumes that at least mentioned them, I carried them back to the table we’d chosen and sat down. “Pick a book and start reading,” I ordered. Everyone obediently reached for the stack and dutifully started working their way through their chosen tome.
Asha was particularly entranced as she read through a book about her species. Her brow furrowed in concentration and it looked like she was discovering things that hadn’t been apparent to her before.
Rudy read through his book far more rapidly than the rest of us, then zoomed through the final book in the stack. “She’s definitely a dryad,” he declared when he pushed the second book away. I’d finished mine as well, skimming most of it and only focusing on the pertinent points. He summed up everything he’d learned. “She’s small, beautiful and exceptionally strong. She can talk to trees and command plants to do her bidding and she can bamboozle men with her allure.”
Harley tore his gaze away from her face long enough to frown at the leprechaun. “Did your book tell us how to protect ourselves from her allure?”
“Pru might have to make a charm you can wear that will act as a shield,” I said when Rudy shook his head. “I know there’s a spell to protect against a siren’s power. It should be possible to create one that works against a dryad as well.”
“Am I similar to sirens?” Asha asked.
“Not really,” Rudy replied. “The only thing you have in common with them is the ability to lure men to their deaths.”
The dryad gasped in shock at his harsh truth. “Is that why those men stopped that night? Did my magic make them attack me so the trees would have to kill them?”
“I doubt it, honey,” I said before she could lose control of her power and stun Harley into a stupor with it. “I’m betting they were bad guys who saw an opportunity and took it. You probably weren’t the first woman they’ve accosted.”
“How do you feel when you look at Asha?” Pru asked Harley.
“I don’t want to hurt her,” the kid replied, face going red as he became our focus. “I feel…protective I guess.” We all knew he felt way more than that, but it was good to know her charm didn’t bring out the urge to harm her in any way.
“No one has ever protected me before,” the dryad said in a small voice that made my heart go out to her. “They just wanted to hurt me, or lock me up.”
“You’re a member of our team now, lass,” Rudy said kindly. “We’ll all have each other’s backs and we’ll watch out for each other.”
“Like a family,” Pru said firmly. “That’s what we’ll become.”
“Even Leroy?” Harley said dryly. “What part will he play in our family?”
“He’ll be the creepy uncle,” Rudy said immediately and we broke into chuckles.
Brandon returned just as Pru and Harley finished making more coffee. The Archivist waited until the beverages had been handed around before he spoke. “The program finished running and I think I know what sort of monster is haunting Devil’s Peak.”
“Don’t keep us in suspense,” I said when he hesitated.
“What is it?” Rudy demanded almost rudely.
“I think it’s a troll,” Brandon said. “A forest troll, to be exact.”
The color bled from Rudy’s face. “It can’t be,” he breathed. “I thought they were extinct.” Trolls were leprechauns’ nemeses. Their magic could cancel his, leaving him completely vulnerable and helpless to their whims.
“Apparently, they’re one of the creatures that are making a return,” our host said. “Were the heads missing from the bodies?”
That was one detail I’d left out. “Yeah, why?” I asked.
“It’s definitely a forest troll,” he replied. “They use the heads of their victims to warn other creatures to stay away from their territory.”
“Feck me,” Rudy said and clutched his beard with both hands. He ignored Pru’s indignant squawk at his Irish pronunciation of his favorite swearword. “The entire town is doomed,” he moaned.
“Why?” I asked. “Surely, we can handle one troll.” I only vaguely knew about them, but Brandon would have more details.
“That’s just it, lad,” Rudy said, meeting my eyes.
“These trolls don’t sound like the ones that used to inhabit our realm before they disappeared. They’re like the trolls of old, back when they were savage and hadn’t evolved to the point where they built their mounds and could cast intricate magic. The worst part is that we won’t be facing just one. Now that it’s chosen a territory, it’ll be returning for the rest of its kin. I’d bet every trinket I own that that’s why it left town.”
“Ah, crap,” Harley said, summing up how we all felt at that news.
Chapter Twenty-One
“What are trolls, exactly?” Asha asked as the Archivist took a seat. Focusing on her for the first time, he instantly became enraptured by her beauty.
Rudy reached over and clicked his fingers in front of the human’s eyes. “Earth to Brandon,” he said snarkily. “Try to resist the dryad’s allure and focus on our mission.”
“Yes, right,” the Archivist said, tearing his eyes away from Asha’s face. He placed a printout on the table and pushed it over to me. “This is a summary of all that is known about trolls.”
I took the sheet of paper and scanned it. “They’re damn near invincible,” I noted. “If they aren’t killed outright, they’ll regenerate fully within a few minutes.”
“Aye,” Rudy said sourly. He was so tiny that I could barely see his face above the table top. “I heard a village of my kin were chased out of their homes by a troll a few thousand years ago. They had no choice but to settle elsewhere.”
“Why didn’t they kill the troll?” Pru asked.
“My kind don’t do murder,” he said stiffly. “We’re pranksters, not killers.” There had to be more to it than that, but he gave the distinct impression that he didn’t want us to pry.
“No offense, but what use will you be to us during our missions?” Harley asked.
“Leprechauns were instrumental in ridding the world of Morgwen, Spencer Von Hades, the druid called Harrow and all of their various minions,” Brandon said on my sidekick’s behalf. “Without them, it’s doubtful we would have won.” The kid seemed skeptical, but he didn’t question the Archivist.
