Here Be Monsters [2]

by Phaedra Weldon

  St. Claire laughed. "Apparently the one he trust to lead Underhill discovered the truth, and made a covenant with me—with my Cíké. He read what Calder had written—why he'd targeted the Winterbourne," St. Clair said. "So he too sent out assassins to kill. They were to test the blood with a kit he provided and if they tested positive, the Cíké were to dispose of them by removing their heads, draining them and burning what was left." Her eyes seemed to burn with the intensity of the fire. "Until I received a very odd request—to kidnap Abyssinian Geld. Oberon paid a very high price to have his brother brought to him. But you see, I saw the tests of your brother's blood, Oberon. I know he's Winterbourne. And yet you hid him away," she licked her lip. "Until last month when that body appeared, and Abyssinian suddenly reappeared."

  Siobhan stood and backed away from Oberon. "The Cíké took Abyssinian…and then you kept him in your basement? You had your own brother kidnapped?"

  "Because he's my brother, Sio," Oberon said as he stood. "I couldn't let them do that to him. So yes I kept him in my basement and I experimented on his blood—trying to see if there was a way to reverse Merlin's curse from him. But there was nothing." He sighed. "And then the bastard let you drink from him—"

  St. Clair was on her feet—or more or less she was abruptly in front of Siobhan—her hands on either side of Siobhan's face. "You have tasted the curse! It is true? Did you walk in the light? Did you feel its warmth on your face?"

  Siobhan realized at that moment that the little monster hadn't really believed in her heart there was something out there that would allow her to see the sun again.

  Until now.

  "Don't answer her!" Oberon bellowed.

  "Y—Yes—" Siobhan said in a frightened voice. She could hear the little girl's power in her mind, feel it creeping inside. It was as if her brain were being squeezed and would ooze from her ears in rivulets of blood.

  "Give him to me!" St. Clair demanded.

  And then the little girl was no longer there—but slammed against the opposite wall as the fireplace—held up like a picture by invisible nails.

  "Daughter of Braelwyn," came the familiar deep voice of Maeve. "My daughter…do not waste your precious Abyssinian on such half-breed debris…instead, offer him up to me."

  And she was there, melting out of the shadow, wearing a cloak of darkness. Her sharp teeth were visible past ruby red lips.

  "Oh no…" Oberon said as he backed away.

  "Maeve…" Siobhan said…and was lost in the monster's dark, black eyes.

  - 14 -

  "What?" Thom stood and pressed both hands on top of the desk. Outside of the Regent's office twilight persisted, the sun little more than a distant glow. Underhill never really vanished into darkness the way the mortal realm did at night. He'd grown so accustom to this he had forgotten what it meant by true darkness. Xe-Faun had woke him with distressing news.

  "I saw the prince by the north cairn." The elf bowed to him in apology. "But I was still too far away to stop him."

  "And you're sure it was Abyssinian?" Thom searched Xe-Faun's face, hoping the elf had made a mistake.

  "Yes. I have sealed only a third of the cairns, Regent. And I had just finished with the smaller one that once stood nearby."

  The Cairn in questions opened up directly into Grant Park in Chicago. It was one of five major cairns first established between the worlds by Merlin. Thom knew Abyssinian had gone back there—to his blood sucking whore. Damn him. And now he'd put the entire world at risk again.

  Illeië had lied to him. The prince had not slipped into a coma. He would deal with her later. Right now the important thing was getting Abyssinian back. "And Silira?"

  The Regent turned and slammed his hand on the desk. "Damn them all. They're going to get us all killed…destroy eons of life…"

  What exactly was he supposed to do now? Both of the Winterbournes were gone—probably back into the mortal realm where the Fallen was.

  "Xe-Faun," he said in a low voice. "Take your best men," Thom straightened as he turned and faced his right hand. "Track him down. Silira and Abyssinian."

  "Bring them back?"

  "No…" the Regent said as he strode past Xe-Faun to the door out of the office. He had a Healer to see. "Kill him."

  Abyssinian jumped through the cairn's ring of lights just as he heard someone shout. He was pretty sure it was Xe-Faun, but he didn't have time to stop now. Especially not for one of Thom's lackeys. The transition from twilight to solid night wasn't as bad as the difference in the air pressure.

  Underhill always felt light—as if the gravity of the world couldn't touch it. He was lighter in Underhill, and falling was never an issue as he always seemed to land on his feet. Much like a cat.

  But that wasn't what was nagging at him as he crouched low near Grant Park, the famous Buckingham Fountain in view. What was troubling him now was the constant pain in his side. The spell Silira had used had indeed given him energy—strength—he felt as he would if fully healed.

  But the pain from the wound was still there, just as Illeië had warned.

  And that pain could hinder him.

  He couldn't think of that right now. He had his katana, and a change of clothing. Though these weren't the black leathers he was accustomed to wearing, their brown deerskin was soft and well fitted. He slipped on the last boot, paused just a second as the twinge in his side demanded attention and then took off into the city.

  Finding Siobhan wasn't hard. Silira had said the Chimera club. He knew of the place. Had patrolled it often as it was a vampire hot-spot, and owned by one.

  Halsted. The heart of Chicago's club scene. Neon, the shouts of party-goers, and the exhaust fumes of cars greeted him as he tried to pinpoint exactly where she was. After a second he sensed her to his right down a side street that lead to a plain door with a single red bulb above it.

  He didn't want to go in the obvious way—in case Siobhan and Oberon needed him as backup. Maybe there was a back way.

  But when Abyssinian turned to find that way, the door popped open with an audible clunk and pushed itself in a few inches. A metallic voice said, "She's waiting for you."

  She? She who?

  But he didn't bother to ask. Nor did he worry he was walking into a trap—of that he was certain. And the familial ties to Oberon told him his brother was here as well. Abyssinian reached behind him and pulled his katana from the shoulder sheath and moved forward through the door.

  The thudding of industrial music vibrated against his chest as well as the hilt of his weapon as he moved down the corridor. When he stepped out onto the floor of dancing bodies, he hid his katana as he moved along the outer edges, though his elven eyes were constantly searching for Siobhan and Oberon.

  He caught sight of a man waving across the way. To him. Abyssinian crossed over and saw a hallway past a roped off area. To his surprise, the man removed the cord and bowed to him. "She is waiting for you, Abyssinian Geld."

  Okay—now I'm freaked out a little. Abyssinian moved past the man, his weapon held down but ready in case he tried something, and then half jogged down the new hallway.

  He came to a door and leaned against it, pressing his ear to the wood to hear inside. There was nothing. No voices. But he knew Siobhan and Oberon where there. His side was like a constant nag, letting him know it was still there. It only flared when he moved quickly. In truth, it felt as if some damned dwarf was constantly poking a sharpened stick into his flesh.

  The door was ajar. He pushed it open with his booted foot.

  The interior reminded him of Oberon's library in a way—with the wood walls, large oval table in the center, and the roaring fire in the large fireplace along the left wall. What was missing were shelves of books. There were none. The room was actually very sparse.

  There were six high backed chairs around the table, and he saw Siobhan seated at the far chair. Her eyes shown an unearthly glow, almost silver. And he realized her teeth were visible.

  "Siobhan," he said
as he rushed towards her, wincing as his side reminded him again he was on borrowed time. "Are you okay?"

  She stood in a single, graceful fluid motion, and the chair moved back from her, scraping along the wood floor. "Abyssinian. You came for me."

  "Yeah," he looked around. "Where is Oberon?"

  "He's nearby." Siobhan moved from around the table and stepped toward him. He held the katana out in front of him—something was odd. "Abyssinian, I have missed you. Won't you embrace me?"

  Embrace me? He narrowed his eyes at her. Yeah, something was wrong here.

  And when she smiled, he realized what.

  Her teeth were all sharp and pointed. And her fangs extended even further down to touch her lower lip.

  Abyssinian pointed the katana at her. "Who are you?"

  "I'm Siobhan."

  "No, you're not. Where is she? And where is Oberon?"

  Not-Siobhan laughed. The sound drilled into Abyssinian's skull but he remained standing. "What would you do to find them?"

  -Abyssinian Geld!-

  He blinked. That…was a voice in his mind. But it wasn't Siobhan's or Oberon's.

  Who—

  -Do you want to save yourself?- The voice said.

  I want to save Siobhan and Oberon!

  -Even after Oberon imprisoned you?- There was a giggle at the end. A giggle?

  The Not-Siobhan took another step closer. Abyssinian took a step back and held the katana out in front of him. Was the voice hers? Who was speaking to him?

  "Abyssinian," Not-Siobhan said. Her voice was smooth, hypnotic. "You think that stick will stop me? Or you?" She opened her arms wide. "Run me through—right into my heart—in an embrace."

  He's my brother, Abyssinian thought back to the voice. Where had it gone? Who are you?

  -I am the oldest there is…except for the monster in front of you. Yes…even I would call her a monster. If you want to live you will need to get out of there. It is your blood she wants.-

  Aby narrowed his eyes at the image of his partner. My blood? Who is—

  And then he knew. Not-Siobhan's eyes became black pools as her face shifted subtly in front of him. Her hair grew even longer, darker, her skin became like white alabaster. Almost translucent.

  Her lips were perfect cherries as they parted to reveal her teeth again.

  And he felt her power.

  The Fallen.

  Run Aby!

  That was Siobhan's voice!

  The Fallen sighed and stepped away, back to the table and the chair she'd been sitting in. She reached a long, white arm down and pressed something under it. Abyssinian turned as the wall to his right slid away, and folded in on itself, as if it were made of thousands of tiny wooden slats—the whole of which created a false wall.

  Now he understood why the place was devoid of books. This wasn't a place of relaxation—but of retribution.

  Set within that wall was a torture chamber of sorts, and hanging from their feet were three figures. Oberon, Siobhan, and a child.

  Their eyes were closed and their arms hung over their heads as they dangled like Christmas ornaments.

  "Siobhan!" he called out when he saw her pale complexion. Paler than he'd ever seen before.

  "Ah…yes. She means a great deal to you." The Fallen glided along the floor to stand in front of Siobhan. She turned to look at Abyssinian. "As does your brother. I can feel your thoughts, Prince of Vothlorien, son of Calder."

  "How did you—"

  "I told you. I know all about you." She smiled at him. It would have been a very sexy smile, if not for her teeth. "I make it a point to know all about the Curse Breakers, like yourself." And she started moving forward. "The powerful magic, the indigo eyes…" she was a sword's distance from him. "The magic blood."

  "My blood isn't magic."

  "Oh yes it is. Your whore there hanging in the closet has tasted it. I can smell it on her now. I tasted it in her blood." She closed her eyes and threw her head back in a moan of delight. "Ah but it was only a simple taste. No power for me. She had already used it."

  Abyssinian moved with caution as he tried to get closer to Siobhan. Had he really heard her voice in his mind? He still held the katana out in front of him as he moved past the little girl. He wasn't sure who she was, or why she was there. "What do you want?"

  "I think that's obvious, little prince." She crossed her arms over her chest but remained standing in place. "You. In exchange for them."

  He knew she would say this—but what bothered him was why? She was strong—strong enough to overcome Oberon and Siobhan. He'd kept the pain in his side masked, but he'd noticed he was bleeding again, and it was seeping out into the soft deerskin and linen.

  He was no match for her. She can take me—why is she bargaining?

  "Because of me."

  It was a little girl's voice. The one he'd heard before he entered the room. The one that told him to run. And it was behind him.

  Abyssinian turned in time to see the little girl open her eyes. They were black, much like the Fallen's were. Her teeth were long and sharp and she focused on him. "I told you to run."

  The last thing he saw was her jumping out at him, no longer tethered to the ceiling. Her claws out.

  Her fangs…

  - 15 -

  Illeië was leaving when he arrived at the Sick House. She was dressed in brown leathers with a bow and quiver. Her long white hair was pulled back into a tight braid and she glanced only at him as he approached. "So Rhymer, what brings you back—"

  And then he struck her.

  Thom had never struck an elf before. In fact the idea had never come upon him until now. And from her physical reaction, Illeië had never been struck by a human. She was caught off guard and stumbled back, yet landed lightly on her feet in a crouch. Her eyes flashed yellow and the cat-like slits narrowed as she glared at him.

  "You dare—"

  "You allowed him to live! You told me he had entered memento mori!"

  That accusation brought her up to her full height—which was a good two feet taller than himself—and she arched a delicate white eyebrow. "You tried to assassinate the realm's prince, Thomas Rhymer. That in itself is an offense punishable by death."

  "I am trying to save this realm from the monsters."

  "You mean the Fallen."

  "You understand what he is, don't you?" Thom surprised himself when he took a step closer. "What his blood can do."

  "He is one of the few remaining Winterbourne, little man." She took a menacing step toward him. "His blood, his very existence, is what also keeps the curse alive. If he dies, you idiot, then it's broken anyway. And the curse keeping the Fallen out vanishes."

  Thom had opened his mouth to respond, but instead took a step back. "What?"

  "Seems you and Oberon only read the cliff notes and not the whole of the text." With that she moved around him and continued toward the gate of the House.

  "Wait," he turned and moved after her. "What are you talking about?"

  She paused and looked up at the moon. It bathed her face in an ethereal light that nearly took Thom's breath away. The elves were indeed the most beautiful of creatures. "Merlin created the curse by using the Winterbourne's magic. It's very basis for existence rests within their blood. But it's not only in their blood, but in their spirit."

  "I don't—" Thom was having a hard time following her.

  "That's obvious." She turned and faced him. "Those cairns you've been so recklessly destroying? Those were set there by Merlin. Not by the realm itself. They are small conduits that encircle the whole of Underhill. They power the Winterbourne's curse, Merlin's curse, so that the Fallen—even if they are granted life in yhe sun—cannot pass."

  "What?" He stumbled backward.

  "You've conveniently destroyed one of the realm's last defenses, you insolent ass. Oberon has tried to find and protect the Winterbourne all this time while you've secretly been working behind him to kill them all off, just as his father did."

 
How…how could she know what he'd been doing? Illeië was just a Healer and stayed within the walls of her home and never—

  "You think you're so clever, little human," she said as she came toward him. Her eyes glowed a soft gold. "But not everyone is fooled by you. Every cairn you destroyed has now weakened those defenses, and the magic the Winterbourne possess outside of Underhill. You have weakened our defenses with your stupidity and your fear."

  Thom heard something behind him…and then to his right, and then his left. Within seconds he was surrounded by elves—many of which he didn't recognize. He took another few steps back. "What are you doing?"

  "Taking back what is ours," Illeië said. "We are the Black Guard, Thom the Rhymer."

  "No…" he shook his head. That wasn't possible. The Black Guard was destroyed by the Fallen nearly a century ago. "You can't be them."

  "But we are," she pointed at him. "And I have known of your covenant with the Cíké for quite some time, told to me by the true King's loyal guard."

  Thom took a step back as the elves started moving toward him. "No…it's not possible."

  "We serve the King," she said as she reached behind her and retrieved a knife. "And we do not suffer fools to live."

  Xe-Faun, along with a small contingent of elves loyal to the Rhymer—those that worked alongside the Cíké—surrounded the club on Halsted.

  Xe-Faun pulled a gazing ball the size of his fist from the pouch at his side. He and three others, his seconds, gathered around the glowing globe to see. The image reflected on the orb's shin surface revealed the vampire, Siobhan. As well as the King!

  So was a child Xe-Faun had not seen before.

  And the Fallen. Nearly everyone had reacted with revulsion at the sight of her. They understood her danger. They also understood their blood would not be poison to her, unlike normal vampires. They would not be protected from her.

  Getting in was easy enough. Magic and glamor worked to infiltrate the humans, as well as the vampires inside. Even if one of these blood-suckers noticed an elf nearby they would simply move away, for fear of being contaminated by their blood.