by Sara Hanover
“Trust has nothing to do with wisdom.”
“The heck it doesn’t. It’s one of the foundations of freedom.”
“I don’t have your trust?” He bent his head down to look at me closer, his face creased in a touch of sorrow. The laughter at the back of his jade eyes faded a bit.
“Not really. Have you given me reason to?”
“Do you wish to make a deal with me for this trust?”
“No.” A few drops of rain began to slip past my shield, and I knew the stone faltered because I tired. I didn’t really want to be standing out here when it gave way entirely because I didn’t want to let Malender see a weakness. I sensed a hesitation in him.
Then, without warning, a young buck stumbled into our bubble, his three-point horns still covered with velvet, the pupils of his eyes wide in the night, and as quickly, Malender’s hand shot out and grabbed him by the throat. I thought he would simply push the deer out and away. He did not. His hand closed tightly.
The animal kicked his hooves out and thrashed, trying desperately to back up, his rear outside the bubble in the rain and gaining little traction on the soaked ground. Mud splashed everywhere but not a spot hit where I stood. I moved, though, for his striking grew intense with frantic hooves slashing for freedom.
“Don’t hurt him!”
“Do you think he happened here by accident? He’s a tribute, sent by the forest. And he’s been claimed. What I do is a mercy.” Malender’s fist closed. I could hear the jackhammer of the stag’s heartbeat and smell the anguish surging through his body. The deer made a strangling noise, and foam fell from his flared nostrils and open mouth. The sound of his snorting and breathing grew faint. The fog that cloaked Malender billowed darker and grew thicker.
Softly, for the animal and not Malender, I murmured, “It’ll be all right. It will.” Like a subtle flame, his spirit rose inside him, and began to climb out of him, a glowing bit on a string, aiming for freedom. I tried to tear my eyes away from the awfulness eating away at him, the darkness flowing from Malender’s hold into his body.
“Don’t do this.”
“He’s already been committed, but I don’t expect you to understand.” The cords on Malender’s neck stood out as if he struggled, but his voice stayed in velvet tones meant to reassure me which were patently not working.
The stone in my palm bit at me in a surprising and sharp pain. I flicked my hand as if to shake it away. A white light cut through the air and across the string that held the deer’s spirit. It leaped away from him, springing up as if it were the buck itself and leaping over a fallen log or a thicket or a troublesome fence, a jump into freedom. Malender, his face carved into hard lines, did not seem to notice.
I could see the buck stop fighting and begin to tremble. His hindquarters got loose and wobbly and he would have fallen, but Malender detained him too tightly. His legs collapsed and he no longer stood but that his captor held him in the air. His lungs heaved for breath and abruptly stopped. The wide, frightened eyes went all white. As the life left the deer, I could sense it flowing into Malender, and yet . . . and yet . . . I had cut the soul loose. I had helped it somehow, hadn’t I, by setting its spirit free? I closed my eyes a brief second, remembering all the thousands of starlings which could fall from the sky when he struck and absorbed the very essence of life from them. This was both the same and far worse. I did not think of it as a tribute but a needless slaughter. The lathered warmth of the deer’s body turned cold and chill.
I stood frozen in place, afraid to move. This was the being I dared to sass? To share time and space with as if he were one of us? I’d forgotten what I’d been told. What I’d learned. The death of the deer gave me a grim reminder.
The carcass hung from his hand and then, inexorably, turned into ash without flame or heat, and floated away into nothingness. I am Fire. Fire consumes, and if unchecked, will consume utterly. Stone returns to earth and water recycles continuously, but fire—fire must engulf utterly. His act chased the words out of my mouth, the breath from my lungs, the thoughts from my mind.
“Odd, but to be expected these days, I suppose. He had no soul. No matter. He fought well enough. The tribute was accepted. I cannot explain it, Tessa, but you have not seen what you think you’ve seen here.” He did not seem pleased.
“I just saw you strangle an animal to death and then incinerate it.”
“He was dying when he blundered into us. I tried to ameliorate his struggle. But I cannot expect you to understand.”
“Explain it.”
He shook his head. “Believe it or not, I am not willing to risk you by telling you more right now. One day when this cloud about me is gone . . .”
I couldn’t move until he dusted his hands against his leather pants and took his own deep breath and tried to push his cloaking darkness away from his shoulders. He no longer smelled of cedar but death. He closed his eyes for a long moment. The fear stink of the animal, and the sweat of the near-silent battle, and the stench of its dying clung to Malender. That oily cloak about him seemed excited and exhilarated, giving me a vibe that clawed at the back of my throat and made my heart race a little. But his words struck me. He didn’t like it. He didn’t want it. Was it part of him or some kind of curse that had been lowered over him? He straightened and, I swear, stood four inches taller, his eyes more vibrant when he opened them.
“As I said, the professor needs me. And, unfortunately, I believe I have need of him, but only if he is restored. We are both hungry, almost infinitely hungry, but that should not be. We can help each other beyond that. So I allow your interference but only to a point. Believe that.”
After what I’d just seen, I had no doubt. I managed to inhale, coughed on the odor, and swallowed my repugnance down. I took a step away from him and bumped into the inside of the bubble, reminding me I, too, stood trapped even though he’d ripped my part of the ceiling away. How had I forgotten that he was fear and the night and the abyss without hope?
“You seem unconvinced.”
Wavering, I shook my head.
“Then I offer this to you, gratis. A onetime boon to prove my trustworthiness. You’ve been troubled by . . . what is it? A glop?” He laughed then, genuinely, as if the name greatly amused him. He waved a hand negligently. “It is removed and Steptoe can be gathered up.”
He would offer this? And what would he gather in return? Whose life would he devour? My throat dry, my lips reluctant to unseal, I surprised myself by speaking again. “Gratis?”
“Absolutely gratis. There is little worth in a demon of chaotic good, anyway. He trades away most of his ability amid enemies.”
I wanted out and away. My mind galloped ahead with that goal. “I’d argue that with you, but frankly, I need to get home before I worry my mother, and she has been through enough on my account.”
He waved. “Go then. We’ll talk again.” Malender brushed a bit of hair from his forehead. “A blessing of salt, Tessa?”
He wanted salt? Then, by George, I’d give it to him. I clawed the huge container out of my backpack and rained it down on him. That cloak seemed to quail and even develop holes, shredding at its edges, under the cascade of crystals.
Malender winced. It hurt. It seared. I could tell that, but he stood solidly and then put his head back and faced upward into the crystals as they bounced off the planes of his face. The cloak shrank closer about him as I poured. Did I feel sorry for him?
Not if I could help it. The world’s most beautiful being had a core of ugliness I could not tolerate. I turned to run. The bubble burst.
The rain came down in pounding, unrelenting wetness, the road reared up under my feet, and my little car gave a forlorn honk as its lights and motor roared to life. It heaved itself out of the ditch as though an invisible someone with a winch towed it out, and settled back on the pavement, ready to go.
I jumped in. The ai
rbag hadn’t gone off, but Evelyn shook herself awake, one hand to her jaw.
“What did we hit?”
“A tree. I pulled it off the road. Ready to roll?”
“The sooner the better,” came a faint voice from the back seat. Goldie sat up, shrugged off the invisibility coat, and she leaned up front. She held a hand to her temple and said, with a touch of pain in her voice, “We should hurry.”
I had forgotten that Judge Maxwell Parker and the hounds of Silverbranch Academy might be hot on our heels. I put the car in gear. “Rolling!”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
WHAT FOOLS THESE MORTALS BE
I FELT LIKE I’d met the devil himself at a crossroads and he’d offered me a bargain for my soul. I’d turned it down, hadn’t I? At least, that version of it. I didn’t hear any ominous banjo or fiddle music in my head strumming like a madman played, so I must have. Evelyn turned in her passenger seat, eyes on Goldie in the back, but said nothing. I reached over and patted Evie on the knee.
“I picked up a hitchhiker.”
“I can see that. What I don’t remember is when or where.”
“She helped me move the tree off the road. You were pretty fuzzy then. I think you might have hit the dashboard or maybe the window.”
Her slender hand rubbed the side of her head. “Okay.”
“Goldie, this is Evelyn Statler; Evie, meet our new friend, Germanigold Broadstone.”
“Pleased.” But Evelyn did not offer a handshake. She slumped back in the car’s seat, looking a bit dazed. “Someone tell me why she is wearing Wonder Woman’s Amazon armor.”
“Actually, she is wearing mine, but this is an outfit designed for a fencing and saber group I belong to. My motorcycle petered out and I was walking the road when Tessa spun into the tree. I was glad to help.”
Goldie settled back in her seat then, Steptoe’s jacket now right side out and folded neatly on the bench beside her, reminding me of Malender’s “boon.”
He’d said without strings. Really? I’d agreed to it gratis, right? I wasn’t sure I would take him up on it, after what I’d just witnessed, but could I leave Steptoe helpless? No. So, sometime tonight, after I dropped Evelyn off safely and did whatever I could for Goldie, I’d swing by the house and pick up Steptoe. If I could find him. If the ground hadn’t swallowed him into a sinkhole miles deep. If he wanted to come back.
My hands wrapped themselves about the steering wheel. Should I bring Brian along? Would he help or hinder, or would he simply start sorting through the ruins of his home one last time and let me do what I had to do? And when would I tell him what Malender suggested?
My brain felt too fried for decisions. I decided just driving would be complicated enough for the meanwhile, especially in the rain, until we reached our first destination.
Evelyn stumbled out of the car. Her home, a two-story, Montpelier colonial, rose out of the storm, lit from every corner like a rescue beacon. I got the feeling that her parents wanted to be certain their daughter couldn’t miss it. They could be insanely protective of their only child, which made me feel mildly ashamed for leading her astray now and then. I leaned out after her. “Tell ’em it was from hockey practice. You accidentally caught an elbow. Put ice on it!”
“I will. See you tomorrow.”
Walking like a drunken pirate, she made her way to her front door, fumbled at the doorknob, and eventually got inside. I shifted to ask Goldie to move up, but she was already climbing into place. I could feel her staring at my profile as I switched on the car heater.
“You seem to have a rapport with Malender.”
“You’d be right.”
“I should have come to your defense.”
“He just wanted a talk.” I spent a moment digging my gloves out of my still damp jeans and pulling them on. They’d stayed almost dry. I flexed my fingers and steered away from the curb.
“I should ask how you know of him and how he knows you.”
“He attacked us while we were on a search for some of Professor Brandard’s magical relics. I fended him off with salt. This seems to amuse him, and he shows up every once in a while to keep tabs on me. I don’t know why except that he wants to keep tabs on me. He’s even helped out now and then.”
“He might be building a debt in which you owe him.” She searched my face a moment before leaning back and shaking her head. “He doesn’t own you.”
“He’d better not!” I paused. “I haven’t made any bargains with him and don’t intend to. I don’t even know what he is.”
“He is the best and the worst of us.”
“Now that tells me a lot.”
Goldie scoffed mildly. “None of us know his secrets. None of us still alive, that is. If you wish to remain among the living, never turn your back on him and never seek to learn what he is about. We might wish that he’d never awoken this century. Last century was dire enough without his being in it.”
“That bad, huh?” I could believe it.
“Yes.”
“But you have heard of him.”
“A tale told to frighten the foolish.”
“What kind of tale?”
“One of violence and revenge, generally.” Goldie brushed her hair from her face.
“He unnerves you,” I guessed, but I didn’t know her well enough to know when she felt unsettled. She was a battle harpy, after all, and it should take a lot to make her feel off-balance, but it seemed Malender had.
“Your friend Evelyn.”
“Yes?”
“Does she often prophesy?”
I choked a bit. “Prophesy? Her? Now you’re just messing with me.”
“I’m most serious.”
But she wasn’t. Germanigold couldn’t be. I loved Evie in my own way, and there’s no doubt she had smarts, but a prophet? No. Flat-out impossible.
“A change of subject, then.” I glanced at her. She stared out the windshield as if searching for something she would never find and I wondered if she thought of Mortimer.
“If you must.”
“I must. Hiram has asked me to look for the Eye of Nimora, and it seems you were the last one in possession of it.”
She flinched as if I’d stuck a needle in her. “The Eye is missing?”
“Yes.”
“It can’t be. I had it hidden away, safe and secure. It’s vital to the clans.”
“Word is that it’s gone.”
“No.” She shook her head in finality. “I’ll take you to it.”
I looked at the dashboard clock. “I have something to do, but first I need to check in with my mother.”
“No phone?”
“I can use that, but I think she’d rather see me and inspect me head to toe and make sure I’m mostly in one piece, the way things have been going around here. And I’d like to change shoes. These are squishy.” I wiggled my toes and my sneakers made awful sounds. “And we have to make a stop on the way to wherever.”
“Another stop?”
“Steptoe needs a hand.”
“Oh. Is that why you have his coat?”
“Something like that.”
She folded her arms over her corset. “Maybe we could grab a hamburger and fries, too. I’m hungry.”
“Deal.” Who knew harpies ate fast food?
* * *
• • •
Someday if I ever get to be a mom, I hope I can do it as gracefully as my mom does. I let Germanigold know that my mother knew quite a bit more of magic than most people, although I didn’t share everything with her. We came in bearing gifts, fragrant bags of fresh fries and three char-broiled hamburgers, medium rare, with crisp lettuce and homegrown tomatoes crowning them, and we ate. She gave one or two curious looks at Goldie, settled when we told her who she was (and even gave Germanigold a sympathy hug for Mortimer’s passing) and sh
ared our dinner.
Oh, she had questions. I could see them bouncing around inside her head, but she wouldn’t pester me with them now, not in front of guests. They could wait until later. She had this unwritten rule about hospitality that few people dared to break, and I didn’t intend to start.
Goldie did answer a few of those queries without being asked, out of obligation or explanation, I couldn’t tell. “Mortimer married out of the Iron Dwarf clan when he married me,” she told my mother, passing the information around even as she handed over the ketchup bottle.
“I gather that was unusual.”
“Very.”
“That must have been difficult for both of you.”
“It was, then. There are few of us in the unknown races, and mixing blood is frowned upon. We were narrow-minded then and not much different today. What we are accepts differences minutely, big changes even slower.” She wiped her fingers on a napkin. “I loved Morty. I’m fairly certain he loved me as well. Because our life spans are different than yours, there were years, even decades we spent apart, but we never lost touch and we never lost how we cared for each other. That might seem strange to you.”
My mom smiled a bit. “A little, but understandable, given the circumstances. And you had no family?”
“No, ours was a second marriage. Morty already had the children he wanted, and we couldn’t have any together. I had sister-eggs set aside for my future.” Goldie blushed slightly, a pretty rose hue to her fair skin. “My apologies, I might have said too much.”
Her expression flashed a bit of surprise before going back to neutral, and my mom leaned forward. “You’re among friends here.”
“Thank you, I’ve noticed that. We’re a different people, even from each other, and it can be difficult to understand one another.” Goldie reached out and covered my right hand with her left. “You have an outstanding daughter.”
I sat, still drying, my brunette hair recovering as it lay over my shoulders. “I look like I’ve been out standing in the weather.”
