Chalice and Blade

by Alexes Razevich

  Everything clicked into place.

  “You killed the Keepers, stole the chalice and blade and hid them. But why send us to find and recover them?”

  “My role as guardian is well known,” Modis said. “I had to make a good show of trying to retrieve them. I hoped you wouldn’t succeed but, my superiors, those who chose you, chose too well.”

  That was probably the most backhanded compliment of my life.

  “I miscalculated your honesty,” Modis said. “I believed you would return the items to me. Then I would arrange quick deaths for all who had been involved in or knew about the hunts and would hide away the artifacts. I would plant more seeds of discontent among the humans and the fairies. Both groups are quick to anger and hate. It wouldn’t be long until war broke out.”

  I struggled to keep my voice calm. “You were going to kill me, my family, and Diego, his family and everyone living at the compound, and Drake and whoever he was connected to?”

  Modis nodded. “That, too, would have given me no pleasure.”

  “Why? What are you after?”

  “Inciting the war, of course. A war between humans and fairies will weaken both sides. My kind will surge into the power and magic gap. We will gain both human and fairy worlds for our own, with humans and fairies to serve us. As architect of the plan, I will assume the top leadership role in the new reality.”

  Modis’s hands were like excited birds, gesturing wildly as it spoke. “If the artifacts are returned and new Keepers named, no war. You can see why those items must be handed over to me.”

  Its hands froze in mid-movement and its eyes went flat. “Don’t bother saying the sea witch had them and you don’t know where they are. I believe you know exactly where they are. I believe they are with the wizard, Adair. Shall we call him and ask him to deliver them here?”

  I turned my hands palms up. I was surprised that they weren’t shaking. “I don’t have my phone.”

  “No problem,” Modis said. It reached into the pocket of the dark green caftan it was wearing and produced a phone.

  “Diego might not have his phone on or with him,” I said, stalling while I tried to think.

  “He’ll have his phone with him and on. He’s waiting to hear from you once you return from your swim with the sea witch.” Modis held the phone out to me. “Shall we call him now?”

  I turned my hands up again in a gesture of helplessness. “I don’t know his number. It’s programmed in to my phone. Nobody memorizes phone numbers these days. I barely know my own.”

  “Such a pity,” Modis said. “Trading you for the artifacts was your one chance at living. If you can’t help me get them back, there’s no reason to keep you alive and several reasons to make you dead.”

  It reached again into a pocket of its caftan and pulled out a hunting knife. My heart thumped and my throat went dry. I glanced wildly around the room looking for anything that could be used as a weapon. There was nothing. All I had was maybe some spells that might slow down or stop Modis, or might not. Sometimes spells worked on non-humans and sometimes they didn’t. I wouldn’t know until I tried.

  I did have one I knew worked—if I got it right, which was iffy. I chanted softly and as fast as I could to get it done. Modis knew I was trying magic of some sort and lunged toward me with the knife. I jumped up from the couch and ran, still chanting.

  A roar from Modis told me the spell had worked. I glanced down at my body. Yes. Invisible.

  Then Modis laughed. “I can hear you. And I can smell you. And there’s nowhere for you to go. You have two choices: remember the wizard’s phone number or get ready to die. You choose.”

  I stood as still as I could. Modis put its nose in the air like a dog and loudly sniffed. I held my breath and watched, trying to figure out exactly how accurate its nose was. Modis sniffed again and looked in the general area where I was but didn’t seem to home in on my exact spot.

  I moved to the left, slowly and quietly. Being barefoot was an advantage. With each tiny step, I watched Modis’s face but saw no change of expression.

  “What’s it going to be, Oona?” Modis said, its eyes firmly on the place it had last seen me, not where I was now.

  I shifted closer to Modis, a plan starting to form in my mind.

  “I have heard,” Modis said, sniffing again and shifting slightly toward where I now stood, “that being stabbed is unpleasant. You have no doubt figured out that the house is warded against escape. Give me the number and I will promise you a quick, clean death.”

  I’d come around behind Modis while it spoke. It held the hunting knife firmly in its right hand. There’d be no second chance.

  I’d learned something about Modis, here in the house with it. It didn’t like not being answered. It felt a need to fill the void silence left. I stood behind the couch, maybe four feet back, and waited until Modis again felt the need to hurl words into the void.

  Modis chuckled. “What are you thinking, Oona? That you will sneak down the stairs? That you will open a window and fly out? Oh, yes, I know you are a shifter and have a bird form. But that—“

  I leaped over the back of the couch, knocking Modis forward with the weight of my body. I slammed my right fist down on its wrist as hard as I could. The knife flew from its hand and clattered on the hardwood floor.

  I was quick, but so was Modis. It spun, tossing me to its side. I landed on the couch and jumped away. Modis dove for the knife but it was closer to me than to it. I kicked the handle hard with the side of my foot—soccer style. The knife skittered across the floor, away from us.

  But kicking the knife told Modis where I was. It reached out, found my leg, grabbed and pulled. I fell face-first on the floor. The thump of my landing told Modis exactly where I’d fallen and lay sprawled.

  Modis dropped to its knees beside me and threw a punch that connected with my left shoulder. For a being that was non-corporeal in its native form, Modis’s blow was strong and it hurt. I rolled away. Modis’s next punch smacked into the floor but didn’t seem to cause it any pain. Too bad.

  I pulled to my feet as quickly as I could and moved as silently as possible as far away from Modis as I could get. The knife lay halfway between Modis and myself. I thought about grabbing it, but holding a weapon would tell Modis where I was. I could stab and hack, but I was rubbish at throwing a knife and hitting the target. The knife was more harm than good to me.

  Maybe I sighed, or gasped, or something without realizing it. Modis swung, faced exactly where I stood, and charged. It moved with an almost blurred speed and hit me dead on, knocking the air from my chest. I grunted and fell. Modis meant to fall on top of me, but I rolled away again and it slammed into the floor. I levered myself up into a sit and scooted away on my butt, using my hands and feet for propulsion.

  Modis stood, shook its head, and sniffed. I was sweating now. Modis seemed to home in on my scent—turning and walking straight toward where I sat in a corner of the room, a grim smile on its face.

  Since Modis knew where I was, there wasn’t any point to silence. I began chanting a protective spell to throw a shield up around me.

  At the first word, Modis was on me, its hands running over my body to find my torso and head. The first hit was to my solar plexus, again knocking my breath out. My spell cut off mid-word. Blows pelted my body like hail. I threw my crossed arms up to protect my head and throat. I could see the blows coming, but Modis couldn’t see where and how I moved my arms. Its punches hit my arms as often as they hit my body. I was going to feel like shit in the morning. If I lived to see morning. Modis’s fist connected with my cheekbone, next to my nose. Stars danced in my vision.

  Anger has always been fuel for me. Pain, too. Check me on the rink and I will hunt you down and check you back hard, but first I’ll put my puck in the back of your net. Anger and pain fueled me now. I arched my back and twisted hard. Modis fell to the side. I hauled myself up as fast as I could and ran to the other side of the room, heedless of the sound my feet
might make. I was sweating hard now, and evidently, Modis could sniff me out easily.

  I had to be fast and I had to be perfect with a spell I didn’t know that well. Perfect with the words and gestures. For two spells. The first to give me enough power to cast the second.

  I whispered the words to the first spell, but Modis heard even that small sound. It grinned and advanced toward me. I finished the power spell, then deked around the creature and came up behind it. Power pulsated in me, raging to be set free. This sort of power, this amount of power was a new experience. My eyes watered but my heart soared, knowing what was within me.

  Modis pivoted and swung, its fist passing over my head as I ducked. I backed away quietly and began whispering the words to the second enchantment—my old friend the freezing spell, which had served me well in the past.

  Modis was in the midst of throwing another punch when I completed reciting the words. It froze instantly, arm pulled back for the punch, one leg raised in the process of taking a step. I heaved a huge sigh.

  I rubbed my chin and my hand came away bloody. My mouth hurt. I wondered if I’d had a tooth knocked loose or out. Teeth or even blood weren’t my first concern. I had to get out of a house that was specifically warded to prevent that.

  Other than Modis choosing to take down the wards, there were two ways to do it. If the magical who put up the wards died, the magic died as well. The other way was to hitch a ride with whoever put up the wards, hoping that the wards were set so that the magical wasn’t harmed when passing through them.

  I didn’t want to kill Modis, which left only option two. I wasn’t at all sure I could pull it off. The timing would be dicey, but it was the best chance I could see. I’d done something to hurt my foot, or Modis had, and I hobbled over to stand behind it. I grabbed a handful of the back of its caftan and used it to help me climb piggy-back onto Modis’s shoulders. It didn’t so much as flinch under my touch. That was good. The freezing spell was holding.

  I’d considered trying to use telekinesis to move Modis’ legs one at a time and walk us out of this place. It wouldn’t work though. I’d have to undo the freezing spell for the legs to move. I wasn’t about to give Modis even a second unfrozen if I could help it.

  Which meant telekinesis was still the answer, but of a more brute force than finesse sort. I took a deep breath to center myself. The power spell was still working in me, but I could feel the energy it had given me fading. Without that extra boost, I doubted I could have remained standing. Which meant I had to escape soon.

  Now would be good, I told myself and used my power to hurl Modis and me out the huge glass window that overlooked the beach. The hum and zing of magic struck me as we dove through the glass. The beach was maybe ten or twelve feet below us. It would take only a fraction of a second before we hit. I shifted to a canary and launched myself into the sky. As Modis fell, I rose, flapping my wings as hard as I could to get up and away over the house.

  High above the beach, looking down on Modis’s fallen form, I realized I couldn’t leave Modis on the beach. Not when I didn’t know where its minions were, minions that could come and move it to safety.

  The strength spell was fading fast. Flapping my wings moved from hard to impossible. I dropped from the sky, shifting back to human as I landed feet first and then rolled on the sand. My already aching ankle throbbed.

  I reached into the pockets on Modis’ caftan and rooted around until I found its phone. I’d lied when I’d said I didn’t have Dee’s number memorized.

  “Modis is the killer,” I said when he answered. “I’ve frozen it and we’re on a beach. I don’t know where we are. He has helpers. You have to get him before they do.”

  “Are you in danger?” Dee asked.

  “I don’t… maybe. I’m tired.”

  “Get out of there, Oona,” he said sharply. “Leave this call open. I’ll find Modis. You go find somewhere safe to be.”

  I nodded and dropped the phone onto the sand. It took all my will to shift into a canary again and fly from the cove. I flew inland, looking for houses, people. I spotted a street below me, a short street with maybe a dozen houses on it, and managed to land on soft grass and shift back to human.

  I drew a few shaky breaths and made myself walk. My legs felt like water. A house across the road from where I’d landed had lights on inside. If I could make it there, I could call for help.

  I more stumbled than walked across the street and up to the door. Lifting my hand to knock was like trying to lift one hundred pounds with one finger. I knocked once, twice, but couldn’t manage a third try. My arms fell heavily to my sides. My eyes wanted to close, my body to sleep. The door began to open. I crumpled to the ground.

  Chapter 23

  I knew where I was the moment I opened my eyes—an ordin hospital. I didn’t like it. I closed my eyes and sunk back into sleep.

  The next time I floated toward consciousness I could sense my mother and father nearby and heard Dee arguing with someone just outside the hospital room door. Mom laid her cool hand on my forehead, whispering spell words low into my ear. I sighed and slipped back into the dark.

  The third time I awoke, it was because I felt Dee in the room, felt his hand holding mine. I groaned and made my eyelids shutter up. My body whined about all the aches and pains. I looked but there was no Diego in my room. I knew he was there.

  “Dee,” I managed to croak.

  “Here, Oona,” a voice said, and then whispered spell words.

  Diego, seated in a chair next to the bed, smiled hopefully.

  “Why?” I said.

  “Invisible? Because I’m not immediate family and the nurses in this damn ordin hospital wouldn’t let me in to see you.”

  I nodded, sort of. Even the smallest movement hurt.

  “Modis?” I said.

  “With the fairies.”

  I swallowed, knowing what that meant. My mouth and throat were dry.

  “Water,”

  He turned my hand lose and reached for the plastic water jug and cup on a side table. He poured a glass for me, stuck a straw in it, and held the cup so I could drink. I managed a few sips before sleep pulled me under again.

  I spent another day at the ordin hospital and then a night and a day at my parents’ house under my mother’s care. By the evening of the second day there, I felt well enough to walk around the house and to start feeling antsy. I wanted to go home.

  “Okay,” I said, sitting in my parents’ living room in my jammies, which Dee had fetched and brought over, “I’ve been really patient. Tell me what happened.”

  My dad shrugged. “We don’t know what happened before you collapsed on Mr. Timmons front porch. That’s his name, Jeffrey Timmons. We’ve been up to thank him.”

  “So what happened?” I said again.

  “You banged on his door. Not very hard. He wasn’t sure he’d actually heard anything, but his dog went to the door all excited, so Mr. Timmons looked out the door’s spy hole and saw you standing there looking like you’d been in a serious car accident. You collapsed as he was opening the door. He called an ambulance.”

  “Good old Mr. Timmons,” I muttered. “How did you know I was in the hospital. I didn’t have any ID on me. No one would have called you.”

  “Diego found you with a location spell.” Dad paused. “He found Bridget later.”

  A lump grew in my throat. “Is she dead?”

  “Nearly,” Mom said, joining the conversation. “I tended to her as well while you were in the hospital. She was very nearly done in. She’s with The Gate and is recovering.”

  The huge weight I’d been carrying for Bridget dissolved like ice in the sun.

  “Now,” my father said, “would you like to tell us what led up to you collapsing on Mr. Timmons’ porch?”

  “Did Bridget tell you anything?” I said.

  “She was in worse shape than you were,” Mom said. “Is still in worse shape. Someone shot her, and the arrow they used had dripped dark magic
all through her body. We didn’t want to stress her with questions.”

  “But she’ll be all right?”

  My mother nodded.

  I looked at my father. “Can I tell you the whole story later? I really want to go home.”

  Dad nodded.

  Mom gave me a small smile. “Of course you do. I already called Diego. He’ll be here shortly to pick you up.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “You know,” Mom said, “I’ve had some time to talk to and observe Diego these last few days.”

  I knew that tone of voice and what it meant. Judgment was coming. And here I’d thought she’d come to like him a little. Maybe she still did. I was way too tired to spend the energy to read her mind. All I could do was hope she wasn’t about to tell me what a bastard he was for letting me act as Bridget’s bodyguard, putting her little girl into harm’s way. As if it was Dee’s decision to make. As if he could have stopped me even if he’d wanted to.

  “And?” I said.

  “You once told me he could be quite charming, which he can,” Mom said. “But I was more interested in his actions. Once he’d located you in the hospital and been assured you’d be all right with time, he drove up here to tell us. He didn’t have our phone number but he knew where we lived, so he made the drive. That impressed me.”

  I began to smile.

  “I watched him,” Mom said, “while you were in the hospital. He cares very deeply for you.”

  I nodded.

  “And you care deeply for him,” she said.

  I nodded again.

  “As your doctor,” she said, “I will be giving him strict orders on how to care for you. He’d better follow through or risk my wrath.”

  I laughed, and it hurt my chest.

  Okay, I admit it—there’s something wonderful about having your boyfriend take care of you when you’re far enough down the road to recovery to appreciate it. My favorite part was when he read to me. It was almost worth faking being more injured than I was just to have him finish the whole book.