The Belmont’s basement showed evidence of the underbelly of Port Townsend’s history, a history of speakeasies, Shanghai tunnels, smuggler’s passages, and the feyblood underworld. Brick archways led to dark rooms closed off by glass doors and a partially closed iron gate, and one archway led nowhere, filled in with concrete that bulged out from the wall like a partially exposed boulder. There were a number of small sealed archways as well, no higher than my knee, from the days when gnomes and other feybloods were able to move more freely through the town.
“Here.” I pulled my hex protection amulet out from beneath my shirt. “You take this. It’ll protect against curses.”
“I have my own protection, thanks,” Heather said. “Do you have some plan for getting out of here?”
“Maybe.” I crossed to the large sealed archway.
“The tunnels?” Heather said. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“It’s okay. If we run into any of the underworld feybloods, they should respect the Pax. Especially for a necromancer.”
“Gramaraye!” The large man’s silhouette appeared at the top of the stairs, though he stayed well clear of the blue witchfire. He called down with a thick Arnold Schwarzenegger accent, “Come out now. You have nowhere to run.”
“Gee, let me think about it,” I called back, and looked at Heather. “See, they don’t even know about the tunnels. Come on.” I moved toward the concrete-filled doorway.
“I’m sorry,” Heather said, and ran to the woman’s restroom.
I ran after her. The blue flames were half the size as when they began. Heather closed and locked the door just I reached it. “Heather, come out!” I said in a loud whisper, worried that the Króls would come down and trap us away from the tunnel entrance. “This is crazy.”
“Just go,” Heather said. “They’re after you, not me. They’re not going to stick around once you’re gone, and I can protect myself.”
“I’m not leaving you. Don’t make me kick this door in.”
“You do, and I’ll kick your nuts in. Damn it, Finn, will you just listen to me and go while you still can? I have plenty of potions. I’ll be fine, I promise.”
She was right. I knew she was right. The Króls wouldn’t stick around to fight an armed alchemist if I was gone, not when more mundies could show up any time. But I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t just leave Heather here and hope the Króls didn’t do something stupid and crazy anyway.
The blue glow of the witchfire faded fast now. I didn’t have much time.
“Okay. Stay quiet,” I said to Heather, then went to the tunnel entrance and placed my hands on the rough concrete. I called up a bit of magic and said, “Aperire Ostium!”
The magic poured out of me, and the concrete receded as though dragged back from the doorway, revealing a pitch-black tunnel that led to the right. But instead of entering, I turned and skimmed the wall out of sight of the stairs, back to the men’s bathroom. I locked myself in the toilet stall, climbing up to squat on the toilet. After a second’s consideration, I carefully lifted the heavy ceramic back off the toilet and held it ready to smash on the first head to peek into the stall.
After a minute, I heard the faint sound of the Króls arguing in German, and the grind of the tunnel entrance closing. Then silence. No sound of the women’s bathroom door being smashed in, or of Heather fighting the witches. Finally, I left the stall and peeked out of the bathroom door. Nobody in sight.
I went to the women’s bathroom to get Heather, but the door was open.
“Heather?” I called. There was no response. She must have left before me, on her own. The door would be broken open if the Króls had taken her.
I rushed up into the restaurant, still wielding my toilet cover. An Asian waitress was at the top of the stairs, her hair a bit disheveled and a confused look on her face. “What—?” she began.
“Sorry,” I said. I set down the ceramic slab, turned, and rushed from the restaurant.
And ran into Grayson, literally.
“Finn! Watch yourself.” He tugged his jacket straight, and brushed his slacks as if I’d gotten dirt on them just by bumping into him.
“Jimmy? What are you doing here?”
“I heard you might be here. I was hoping to talk to you.”
“You couldn’t wait until I got home?”
“You seem to be running around quite a bit of late, despite my warnings and advice, and I have more important things to do than sit around waiting on your convenience.”
I glanced behind me, uncomfortable to be just standing there talking.
Grayson raised his eyebrows and looked past me. “Is there some concern?”
“I was just attacked by the Króls again.”
“Really?” Grayson pulled a wand out of the inner pocket of his blue dinner jacket and said, “Let’s go see these elusive witches of yours.”
“I don’t think they’re still here.”
Grayson arched an eyebrow. “I didn’t see anyone else leave, Finn. Are you sure?”
“I think they left by the tunnels.”
“Ah, of course. Well, if magic was used then a cleanup crew will be here soon enough. Meanwhile, may I offer you a safe ride home?”
“Yes, please.”
* * *
Grayson drove a big burgundy Cadillac sedan. He leaned forward, peering out into the twilight as he steered the land boat over the bumpy roads toward home.
“Finn,” he said. “I’ve come to recommend, as your friend, that perhaps you should consider confessing to the ARC.”
“Confessing?” I said. “Wow. Thanks for the trust, Jimmy Jam.”
“Respect!” Grayson slapped the steering wheel, his face gone red. I flinched. Man, he really had taken after Grandfather.
Grayson took a deep breath and cleared his throat. “I am your friend, Finn, whether you believe me or not. I am also a friend to your family. And I am a magus of the ARC. I must consider the greatest good for all here. You have clearly been hiding some fact, some secret, since you returned. I suspect it has something to do with the remains found in the wreckage of your trailer. I don’t think either of us wants to see the enforcers rip the truth from you, eh? That wouldn’t be good for you, or for your family if you’re involved in anything … unfortunate.”
“There’s nothing to rip,” I said. “I’m not hiding anything.”
Grayson sighed through his nose. “Please, Finn. This could be your last chance. And clearly, being free of the enforcers has not made you any safer. Let me take you in—”
“No.”
“I must tell you, you are being selfish, and foolish. I—”
“You must tell me that, huh? Well, I think maybe I must walk the rest of the way. You can let me out here.”
“Finn, don’t be—”
“Stop? Please?”
Grayson shook his head but pulled over. We were only a block from home. I climbed out of the car.
“Finn,” Grayson called before I closed the door. “I’ve reached the limits of what I can do to protect you. And of my patience with your disregard for—”
I shut the door and walked away, my shoulders clenched as I waited for Grayson to attack me from behind in an attempt to haul me in. But he drove off into the night, leaving me to the sound of crickets and frogs and the smell of the roadside blackberry vines.
In case the Króls waited out front, I circled around through the darkening night to the back entrance. I jumped at serpentine shadows in the garden, half expecting some Triffid-like plant to emerge and attack. But the flowery vines and bushes were content to just sit and glower at me in their thorny way.
I sighed with relief as I passed through the wards into the mud room. Mother’s ghost floated by and simply said, “Wipe your feet,” before disappearing. I needed to call Heather. I was worried about her. Not just because of the Króls, but because she seemed to be in some other kind of trouble. At least, it seemed obvious that something was wrong, that she was unhappy. But first
, I needed to talk to Zeke, to let him know about the Król attack, but also that Grayson might be siccing the ARC on us at any time.
Zeke’s door was closed, but the door to Vee’s room stood open. I peeked in to see if Zeke was there.
Sammy’s old furniture was gone, but the walls were still covered in a collage of photographs, drawings, greeting cards, posters, and images cut from product packaging, with bare spaces where a pair of wardrobes and bookcases once stood along the walls. The old futon from the mother-in-law cottage sat in the corner where Sammy’s bed used to be. Vee sat cross-legged on the floor in the room’s center, and Pete lounged in one of the several bean bags that were the only chairs in the room, facing her. Neither showed notice of me. They appeared to be having a serious talk, so I stayed quiet, hoping for a good moment to interrupt.
“That’s crazy,” Pete said. “I think you’re really nice. I don’t think you’d hurt anybody.”
I could see Vee’s blush from across the room.
“You’re so sweet. And I don’t think Sarah’d hurt anyone either. But you know how out of control it feels when the change happens.” I could hear the tears building in her voice. “And I’ve spent so much of my life in the Hole. I’m not even sure I know how to live in the real world. The rules are so different, and there’s so much happening all the time, so much to remember and keep track of and—it scares me.”
Pete reached out and took her hand. She flinched slightly but then looked up at Pete, and a smile bloomed across her face as sudden and sweet as the foam appearing on a root beer float. Pete was the one blushing now.
Vee looked down at their joined hands. “It’s really nice having someone to talk with, Pete.”
“Don’t you talk to your brother?”
“Yes. But it’s hard with him. I don’t think he’s really accepted the idea that I’m a waer yet, not in his heart. And the fact that he was exiled because of what happened, lost his position as an enforcer—I love him, and he tries so hard to take care of me, but he’s not easy to talk to. I can’t even imagine how he’s going to handle it the first time he actually sees me change.”
“Don’t you use the potion?” Pete asked.
Oh, crap!
“What potion?” Vee asked.
I stepped into the room. “Hey, guys.”
Their hands shot apart, back into their own laps.
“Nothing,” Pete said.
“What?” I asked.
“Huh?”
“I just said hello. Have you guys seen Zeke? Is he in his room?”
Vee stood up. “He’s still sleeping off the berzerking. I really wouldn’t disturb him.”
“Okay. Hey, Pete, can I talk to you for a minute?”
Pete looked up at Vee, and gave a mournful expression but then sighed and stood up. “Okay. Bye, Vee.”
“Good night. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Pete smiled. “I can show you my paintings.”
“I’d like that.” Vee saw us out and closed the door behind us.
I led Pete down the stairs. “Pete, I don’t think it’s a good idea to mention your potions to Vee.”
“Why not?”
“Because…” I stopped and looked at Pete. I’d been about to tell him yet another lie, that the potions only worked on wolf-form waers and Vee would be sad about it. But I couldn’t.
Pete and Vee liked each other. Despite whatever misgivings I had about her being a feyblood, whatever obstacles they might have, they liked each other. And they did seem to be a pretty good match, even without Pete’s supposed waer curse.
And there be the rub.
I’d continued the lie about his waer curse this long because I thought it was what would make Pete happiest. Okay, that wasn’t quite true. I’d continued the lie because it was easiest, because I didn’t want to risk him being angry at me and trying to deal with that while trying to clear my name and stay alive, not if I had only three days to spend with him.
But if there was one thing I could do to make Pete truly happy, and to fulfill my promise to help him find love, I realized that it was to tell Pete the truth. Hopefully, it wasn’t too late already.
“Follow me.” I turned around and led Pete back upstairs, to Mort’s bedroom. I knocked twice and cracked open the door. For a second, I thought I sensed a stirring of spirit energy.
“Mort? Can we come in?” I said through the crack.
“No,” Mort called back.
“It’s just me and Pete. We only want to talk.”
A sigh. “All right, come in.” He sounded slightly less doped up than earlier.
I led Pete inside to Mort’s black and chrome fortress of solitude. Mort sat in his bed, propped up in a throne of black pillows and watching some kind of game show on his giant television. I sensed no spirit energies now, and Mort didn’t exactly look like he’d been summoning.
“Was there a spirit in here?”
“What?” Mort said, pushing himself up further. “No. Why, you’ve come to accuse me of something else?”
I sighed. It must have been my imagination, or perhaps Mother’s ghost passing through. Now was not the time for investigations anyway.
“No, sorry,” I said. “I wanted us to talk with Pete about his curse, and the potions.”
Mort looked at me, his expression wary. “What about them?”
“Pete, sit down, buddy,” I said. He sat on the edge of the bed, and I paced between him and the entertainment center as I spoke. “Okay. Look, Pete, first off I know you feel that being a waerwolf makes you special. But when you really think about it, everything that’s special about you has nothing to do with being a waerwolf. You’ve always been really good with numbers and directions. You’ve always been stronger than me and Mort. And Petey, you’re the best of us. I wish I had a heart as good and honest as yours. Especially right now.”
Pete frowned. “Is this about the cure again, to make me not a waerwolf at all? I think maybe I don’t need it anymore, Finn.”
“Because Vee is a waer?” I asked. “Because you can’t infect her?”
Pete blushed and shrugged but didn’t say anything.
“Okay. I understand, Petey, I really do. But think of what it would be like if you weren’t a waerwolf. You wouldn’t have to wear those gloves all the time. You wouldn’t have to drink the potions anymore, or worry about hurting someone if you ever did change and get loose. And Pete, you could eat chocolate. All you wanted. Chocolate cookies. Brownies. Chocolate pudding!”
Pete licked his lips. “I guess.” He shook his head. “But then, I could get infected again.”
“True, but—” I looked at Mort. “Mort? Don’t you want to add something?”
“Like what?”
“Like why you think Petey is awesome without being a waerwolf?”
Mort snorted. “Okay, I know you’ve been off in fairyland for a while, man, but this is just weird. Since when did you turn into Oprah?”
“Mort, shut up and tell Petey why he’s awesome right now, or I’ll go tell Zeke you said his mustache is pathetic.”
Mort glared at me a second, then said, “You know, you’re really killing the nice buzz I had going. Whatever. Pete, you’ve done a heckuva job as a driver and head of security. If you weren’t family, I’d definitely give you a raise.” He looked at me. “Happy?”
“Good,” I said. “See, Petey, being a waerwolf is not what makes you special, not at all. And I want you to know I love you, man, and I’m very sorry for this. Mort, tell him the truth.”
“About what?”
“About his curse.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I— Fine.” I put a hand on Pete’s shoulder. “Pete. I promise, I’m telling you the truth right now. You’re not a waerwolf. You never were.”
Pete shoved my hand away and stood up, moving away from me to stand near Mort’s dresser. “Stop it. This isn’t funny. You just don’t want me to like Vee. You want all the girls for yourself.�
�
“What? That’s not true,” I said. “Really, Pete, I—”
“It is so true. You told me Vee couldn’t be my girlfriend. And then you asked Dawn out, and then you asked Heather out, and you really hurt Dawn, and—I am so a waerwolf.”
“Wow,” Mort said, grinning at me. “You’ve been busy.”
“Shut up, Mort. Pete, I know I said dating Vee was a bad idea before, but I changed my mind—”
“The way you changed your mind about Dawn?”
“No! I never wanted to date Dawn, Pete. Or at least—that’s not the point. The point is, I want you to be happy. And I can see Vee makes you happy, and I don’t want to mess that up with a lie. Remember that first night when you thought you changed? In the tree house? You didn’t change, Pete. Mort snuck out there and—”
“Enough!” Pete said, putting his hands to his ears. “I don’t want to hear it!”
“Good job, Dr. Phil,” Mort said. “I could’ve told you not to bother. Hey, on your way out, can you ask Mattie to come up? I’m starving.”
I didn’t bother responding to Mort, and instead put a hand on Pete’s elbow. “Pete, come on. You have to hear this. It’s the truth. Why does it matter if you’re not a waerwolf, really? You’re still the guy who saved me and Vee at the Hole. You’re still the guy who made me feel truly welcomed home—”
“Geez, thanks,” Mort said. “I did put out food.”
“And Pete, I love you man. You’re my brother, and—”
Pete shoved me, hard. I stumbled back and fell to my butt. My back slammed painfully against the entertainment center.
“No!” Pete said. “Stop saying that! If I’m not a waerwolf, then that means you lied to me, and made me drink those potions, and—I don’t want that to be true.” Tears streamed down his cheeks. “You’re my brother. Everyone else made fun of me, played jokes on stupid Pete, but you didn’t, Finn. Tell me you’re just trying to be funny. Tell me I’m really a waerwolf.”
I took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Pete. I’m really, really sorry. If I hadn’t been exiled, I—”
“NO!” Pete grabbed a cologne bottle off the dresser and threw it in my direction. It flew high, and the television screen shattered in a flash of sparks. I scrambled out of the way of the shrapnel and cologne splatter.
Finn Fancy Necromancy Page 19
