Here Be Monsters [2]

by Phaedra Weldon

  Siobhan decided last minute to detour home and get a proper shower and clothing. Stepping into her shop during daylight hours was going to unnerve the clientele that knew she was a vampire, so she took the back entrance by jumping on the roof and climbing down through the skylight.

  After the shower, new clothing, and a dark pair of sunglasses and a wig, she returned to her bike and took the short cut over to the prison where Oberon was being held. Luckily the guards on duty were day guards and hadn't seen her before, so her daylight appearance wasn't a surprise.

  What was surprising once she got in was to find Oberon was already in conversation with someone and unavailable.

  Who the hell was he talking to?

  Due to privacy issues within the prison, Siobhan wasn't allowed to know, but she could listen in…if she concentrated her preternatural hearing on a voice she knew better than her own.

  It took a few minutes but she could hear him. He was speaking low, as if he was afraid he'd be overheard. And the voice that answered him was female.

  Who?

  "…isn't going to like this."

  "No, he's not," Oberon said. She could hear him sigh. "How many are there?"

  "In his group? About six. They work in two teams, three a piece. They're going through the list of names and testing by date of known birth. Then the elf disappears and if we're lucky, the police find them."

  Siobhan frowned. Who was this and what were they talking about? The dead elves? And who was working in teams?

  "Is there any chance they have your name?"

  "They have a name. I've been able to evade them this far because I know what they're doing."

  There was another pause. "And you're sure Rhymer knows about this?" Oberon sounded worried.

  "Sir, I'm very sure he knows about the deaths not being caused by vampires but by other elves. What I'm not sure of is if he's behind it. That's what I need to find out."

  Siobhan lowered her head. She'd been right about the murderers being elves and not vamps. And Oberon and whomever this was knew this as well.

  So…if these killings were still happening after Oberon was jailed…

  Her head came up. Then…was it possible that Oberon was innocent? That he hadn't been the one to kill the elves in that blood bank she and Abyssinian had broken into? But no…she'd seen the recording of him over the bodies.

  "And you're sure he's the one that hurt Aby?"

  "Yes. Two of the guards in the tomb saw him do it."

  Hurt Aby?

  Her heart leapt into her throat. So what she'd dreamed, thought she'd seen in her mind was the truth. Abyssinian was in trouble. And this woman and his brother knew about it. She stood and started pacing the waiting room.

  "Miss, you're going to need to calm down," said the attending guard behind the counter.

  Siobhan gave her a scathing look and continued to pace. Let them try and stop her. She needed to talk to Oberon.

  NOW.

  As if the universe knew it was a bad idea to irritate a day-walking vampire, the door buzzed and a tall, thin, elegant elf was escorted through. She looked familiar to Siobhan. Her ears peeked out through the folds of her hair and her eyes were bright and—

  Purple.

  Just like Aby's were.

  The elf nearly ran into Siobhan, but she stopped, made an excuse and left the room.

  The room Siobhan entered was small, with one wall of thick plexi-glass. It was partitioned into six sections, each given a privacy wall, a chair, a desk and a phone.

  Oberon sat in the one on the far end. He looked good. Even in prison blues.

  His eyes nearly bugged out of his head when he saw her sit down in the chair the elf had just vacated and removed her glasses. Siobhan took the phone and put it to her ear.

  Oberon raised a shaking hand and picked up the receiver. When he got it to his ear, Siobhan wasted no time.

  "You listen to me, you fucker. Who the hell was that, who is Rhymer and what did he do to Abyssinian?"

  - 9 -

  Keith Song sat in his Jaguar, parked in the prison parking lot, racking up minutes on the parking meter. He'd somehow known where to find Siobhan, and arrived just in time to see her enter the front door of the jail.

  In daylight.

  How was she doing that? Was Siobhan that much different than the other vamps? Was she born that way? Did Geld know?

  Hell…did anybody else know? Was it the stuff she drank?

  He wanted to tell someone what he'd seen. A day-walking vampire.

  But he couldn't. He physically couldn't. Even when he called his editor and opened his mouth, instead of letting Barney know what Siobhan O'Donnell could do, he'd wretched in the guy's ear. Literally got sick right there. Insto-puke. Not that he really threw up but he wanted to.

  And might have if he'd have continued to try and talk about it.

  That's when he'd really known he was fuckered. A ghoul. Bound to a vampire. Being a ghoul and being a reporter, was going to suck.

  Ass.

  "How the hell are you out here in the middle of the day?" Oberon hissed into the receiver.

  Siobhan's answer was a quiet tapping of her long nail on the counter in front of her. She was already getting queasy with the smells of urine, antiseptic and bleach. Not to mention blood.

  There was old blood here.

  "You drank his blood again."

  "You need to answer my questions." She nodded toward the door. "Who was that? I think that's Silira—the elf that got away from Miller. She looks a little different, but it's her. She use glamour before?"

  He glared at her.

  She glared back.

  Finally he sighed. "Yes, that was Silira."

  "And?"

  He arched a blond eyebrow. "She's UnSeleighe."

  "And?"

  "And what?"

  Siobhan leaned forward and lowered her voice. "She's a Winter born, same as Aby, isn't she?"

  She knew she was right the moment the color drained from her old lover's face. He reached out and put a hand on on the window. "It's Winterbourne, and please, don't get messed up in this. I don't know how you know that—but please Siobhan…"

  "It's too late." She gave him a small cliff note version of what'd happened to her at Song's place and of the Fallen. Maeve.

  "I never knew it had a name." Oberon rubbed at his stubbled chin. Hah…all those rumors about elves not growing facial hair—Oberon was the perfect example of how the steroids and chemicals in the food in the mortal realm had changed that. He was thicker than an Underhill elf. Which was why Abyssinian remained a vegetarian while not in Underhill.

  "Yeah, it's got a name. And teeth."

  "And power. Look Siobhan, you have to stay away from it. It's got your number, and more than likely it thinks you're its daughter. In fact, it thinks all of the vampires are its creatures. And if it got its way and came back to Underhill?" He shivered. "That thing would make all vampires day-walkers. It wants to destroy the elven race."

  Being of the blood-sucking persuasion and missing long walks on the beach didn't sway Siobhan's opinion that vampires should stay in the dark. She had a good idea of what her kind could do if given that ability. And though she liked feeling the warmth of the sun on her skin—without the burning her to a cinder part—she didn't want that kind of future.

  Not for anyone.

  "So let me understand this," she scooted her chair closer. "You knew there was a Fallen running amuk in the mortal realm. And you and your special ops elves—this Black Guard—were trying to find it. By yourself."

  "Yes. But shush on the Black Guard thing. I'm trying to keep them under wraps."

  "You could have asked for help."

  "No, we couldn't. Damn Siobhan, we didn't even realize that the whole Winterbourne part of this was true until I did a few tests on Abyssinian's blood. I didn't want to believe what my father had told me—that he was one of them."

  "Is that why you kept him chained in your basement?" She glared at
him even harder, remembering the burned scar on the elf's wrist. Cold Iron.

  "Look, Aby's head strong, and I couldn't get him to listen to me. He wasn't going to believe that he could give a vampire the ability to walk in the daylight."

  "Did you tell him?"

  "Yes. He wouldn't believe me, but from what I saw that morning in your secret room, and now," he sighed. "He obviously does now."

  Well, this explained how he knew by drinking his blood I wouldn't die. His brother had confessed as much while locking Aby in the basement.

  "Siobhan, it's the breaking of Merlin's curse. And he tried to fight me—" he sighed. "So when he did I played dirty."

  "You fucking did play dirty. Did you see what your shackle did to him?"

  "Don't you think I realized he was in pain?" Oberon put his other hand flat on the counter in front of him. "But I also have my people to worry about, Siobhan. Aby's blood, and Silira's blood are the key to breaking that curse. Their blood—just one drop—could cause the annihilation of both of our races. So if it means I have to keep my brother chained up in a basement. In pain. Then yes," and he sat back. "I'll do it."

  She pointed at the door. "So why isn't Silira chained up in a basement? Huh? Why is she walking around free. She's another one?"

  "Because no one knows she is. To anyone else she's a human. Her glamor over mortals is that good. And she's working with me, unlike Aby who's always tried to work against me. She realizes what she could potentially do."

  She was quiet for a moment. As terrible as it sounded, she knew Oberon was right. Abyssinian wasn't known for patience. Especially not when it came to his brother. She licked her lips. "Then why when you saw him in my shop that night when the body was dropped there, you didn't try to take him again?"

  Oberon looked away before he answered. "Because I realized that you needed him. That if anyone was going to prove your innocence it'd be him. Only," he looked back at her. "I got caught in the crossfire of that one. And here I am. While Thom Rhymer is out there adding fuel to a fire he can't possibly contain."

  "You said he hurt Aby. I felt something was wrong with Aby earlier today. This Rhymer—" and she stopped. "Wait.. Do you mean Thomas the Rhymer?"

  "Unfortunately."

  "But…the legend of Thomas the Rhymer is decades old. He's real?"

  "Yep. And if he stepped back into the mortal realm," he snapped his fingers. "Those decades would catch up with him. I left him in charge."

  "Abyssinian always talked about Thom, but he never said his last name. That's…weird."

  "Siobhan, Thom put an arrow into Abyssinian's side. One of Cold Iron because he'd need to nullify my brother's magic. He knows Aby's a Winterbourne and he's trying to keep him in Underhill. My spies there have told me they've rescued Aby for now, away from any other harm, but Thom has sent out scouts to find Silira. I don't think he knows who she is, just that he's caught wind of a second Winterbourne."

  Pissed off about Aby's situation didn't even begin to describe how she felt. Siobhan curled her hand into a ball. "This asshole would dare to stab a prince of Underhill?"

  She was surprised when Oberon smiled. He did it so infrequently, so when it came, she was always dazzled. "You sound like Silira did. Thom went too far, I'm afraid. The Healers are faithful to the House of Geld. Harming Aby was the worst thing he could have done. Now he'll have to deal with Illeië."

  "Who?"

  "Nevermind. What's important is that the Fallen has seen you. It's smelled Winterbourne on you. That means it'll come for you. Right now you have the advantage of daylight by drinking Aby's blood. But, if it knows you were in the daylight or smells it on you, it will come after you faster to find him. Or Silira."

  Siobhan waved her hand. "That's all right and good, and I get it. I do. But what I don't get is—if you're not the one draining these elves, and the vamps aren't doing it? Then who is?"

  "That's what I was trying to find out." Oberon said. "And I was getting close till well…" he laughed. "Your mirror set me up."

  "Why did you come after me at my place then? Why did you make it look like you were guilty?"

  Oberon shrugged. "I thought maybe you'd picked up on what I was doing. That maybe you knew who was killing my people. I didn't realize you suspected me till it was too late. And I didn't want you involved in this reality."

  She didn't believe him. Not all of it. But she wanted to. She could believe he'd stop at nothing to save his people from something like Maeve. And she believed that if it came down to it, he'd kill Aby if he believed that was the only way.

  The fact that Silira had received better treatment still goaded her. It was like big brother was still picking on little brother. Still trying to show him who was boss. "Aby's safe?"

  "He is. But I'm pretty sure he'll be out of commission for a while, which is fine by me. I've given them instructions to keep him there where he's safe and he's not endangering anyone. Silira's heading back there as well. As long as they stay in Underhill, away from the Fallen, then there's no chance of it getting their blood and breaking the curse. The sunlight of Underhill would kill it within seconds unless it has a Winterbourne's blood."

  She pursed her lips. "So what now?"

  "Now? We find out whose killing the elves and stop them."

  "How do we do that?"

  He grinned at her. "By getting me out of here."

  - 10 -

  Abyssinian tried to open his eyes, but the light was too bright.

  "No prince…not yet. Let the antidote finish working. You'll be fine in another half hour or so."

  Antidote? Antidote for what? And why did he feel so…bad? His muscles were stiff and his head ached as if he'd downed a pint of dwarven wine.

  Nasty stuff.

  "I…" his throat was dry and he coughed. A straw was pressed against his lips and he drank something sweet and cold. He recognized the sweetness of Dandelion Wine and sighed. He was home.

  Really home.

  "That's good. Keep drinking. I'm afraid the drought you were given was a bit stronger than your body could handle. It stole your life faster than it should. Though I suppose," the voice in the darkness paused. "It's a good thing that Rhymer never really bothered to learn the truth about cold iron poison."

  Cold iron poison? He finished the drink and took in a deep breath. But that only aggravated a dark pain in his side. He gave a low moan and felt cool hands on his shoulders.

  "Really Aby…can't you follow simple instructions? The antidote can heal the draught, but the wound," there was a sigh. "That is real enough, and the iron remained inside of your body too long."

  He finally needed to know whose voice this was. Though familiar, the memory was old and distant. He blinked several times and the light didn't hurt his eyes as much this time. A blurry head and shoulders filled his world, and behind it he saw the movement of sunlight through the trees. The warm, healing sun of home.

  "Ah…I see you've come back to us now."

  Her image sharpened. Thin faced, white hair and light blue eyes. "Illeië," he said in a voice still raw. "Where…"

  "You're in my house this time," she smiled. She was the most ethereal of their people, and one of the oldest. "The Rhymer wouldn't dare to intrude here. And he believes you deep within a cold iron stupor."

  "He does?" Abyssinian reached up with a shaking arm and put his hand to his forehead. His skin was clammy. Even his hair was damp. "Fever?"

  "Normal. I'm afraid it's going to be several days before you're well enough to be back on your feet. And that is because of the cold iron," she turned away from him, disappearing from view.

  "He…stabbed me…." He heard himself say.

  "Yes," Illeië's answer was from the other side of the room. He crammed his neck to try and see where was was. "And though I do understand his somewhat limited reasoning, I do not condone his methods. In a much younger world, harming a prince was punishable by death."

  And to Aby, it sounded as if Illeië were capable of carrying out s
uch a task. And would enjoy it. "He…talked about Fallen and Winterbournes. Oberon told me about them—but I didn't believe him."

  "So he did at least try to explain himself to you."

  "Yes."

  "Your blood breaks Merlin's spell. It is that simple. Yours, and Silira. You are the last of the Winterbourne."

  "Silira?" This time he managed to push himself up on his elbows, albeit a bit unstable at it, and saw his savior across the room. Her back was to him as she faced an open wall of arches, each of them wound tightly vines of roses and honeysuckle. The scent of them was making him dizzy. "Why are there so few of us?"

  "Because of the Exodus—didn't Thom tell you? When the Fallen were banished they tried to take as many Winterbourne as they could—to use you as blood machines. But…" she looked sad. "Your father said that Fallen couldn't easily be killed, so the Winterbourne were to be exterminated in order to prevent the Fallen from ever returning."

  "No…"

  "In retaliation for what your father did—"

  "They took my mother," Aby finished. He was finally putting the pieces together. "And he want after them to find her, but they killed her."

  "Yes. And when he lost her, he went crazy trying to find you. He killed so many Fallen as well as elves. When he found you—" she paused. "He was ambushed and killed. Cold Iron poison. It lead him to Momento Mori, and finally into death. The Black Guard resumed order and the Fallen disappeared. But when it was all finished, there were so few UnSeleighe and Winterbourne left, they fled Underhill and buried themselves into human lives."

  Aby watched her though a haze of dull pain. "And when the killings started in the mortal realm—the drained elves—"

  "Your brother put Thom in charge and set out with the Black Guard to discover what was happening."

  "So you're saying my brother isn't the one killing elves in the Mortal realm?"

  "No. He's been trying to find the same answers you have. According to Silira, someone else is looking for Winterbournes. At first he didn't believe it was the vampires. Because of his feelings for Siobhan. He's blinded by her, you know."