by P. R. Frost
But I also had to examine my own role in this threesome.
Methodically he set about packing his few clothes and toiletries into a small duffel, zipping a vinyl bag around his suit.
“Gollum?”
He wouldn’t look at me.
“Gollum, I understand why you have to go to her.”
Damn, damn, damn. I did understand.
“You understand?”
I nodded, unable to speak, unable to think. I just had to hold myself tight enough to keep my damned heart from shattering into a million pieces.
“Thank you. You know I love you. I’d do most anything for you. Except . . . she depends upon me. She’s more like a much younger sister than a wife. But . . .” He stood and gathered the last of his things.
“It’s all about balance. I’m the one that threw you and Julia out of balance.”
“Julia and I were out of balance long ago. But I’m her only hope of ever recovering.”
“Gollum?”
“Yes, Tess?” At least he didn’t call me “Sweetheart” or “Darling” or any other endearment. I couldn’t stand it if he did.
“Gollum, I can’t be with you. Not as a loving couple. That’s wrong. Wrong for me, for you, and for her. Until you and Julia can find a peaceful way out of your marriage, I can’t be your lover.”
“I . . . I know. But I will be there for you when next you need an archivist. I’ll not desert you.”
“Just go. Please, go now before I . . . before I can’t let you go.”
“Good-bye.”
I turned and stared out into the night that was never quite night in this city.
Agony! Pressure in my chest. My heart beats erratically. I’m dying.
I curl up into a fetal ball.
“What ails you?” my beloved Ginkgo asks. He enfolds me in his arms, closing our bodies together with his tail.
“Not me,” I wail. “It’s Tess. My Warrior ...”
I can’t stay here wrapped in love any longer. Tess needs me.
This kind of pain speaks of personal disaster. What could go wrong? She and Gollum are so right for each other.
I pop out of Ginlzgo’s arms and into the chat room without a thought. I barely register the Cthulhu demon on guard. I’m not there long enough for the ponderous water monster to notice me.
Then I am on Tess’ shoulder, smoothing her hair, rubbing my cheek against hers.
I wish I could become solid in her dimension so that I can hold her as she needs to be held.
I can only share her tears and her pain.
Her agony is my agony. Her life my life. Not even death can separate us.
Chapter 50
Las Vegas no longer caters to a primarily adult crowd. It offers water parks, amusement parks, G-rated entertainment, and other activities aimed at the entire family.
SOMEHOW, POURING MY GRIEF and anguish into words for Scrap helped me gain some perspective. Yes, I loved Gollum. Yes, he had betrayed me by his silence and oblique promise of a future. But he hadn’t totally abandoned me.
He’d be back. We’d have to renegotiate our relationship and find a way back to the friendship we’d shared before this weekend.
Do you remember when you claimed Gollum as your mate before the Windago and King Scazzy? Scrap reminded me of an incident last month. In order to protect Gollum from the Windago’s vengeance—I had killed her mate so she would kill mine—I had to stake a claim on him.
“I claimed him as a friend.”
You implied that he was your mate.
“If the Windago and the prison warden of the universe interpreted my statement that way . . .”
You claimed him before witnesses. He’s yours by the laws of the cosmos.
“That doesn’t mean we can be together. Not while Julia lives.”
He’s yours. He’ll be back. Scrap blew a wisp of black cherry cheroot smoke up to the corner away from my face.
A small courtesy I hadn’t expected from him.
“What I need to do right now is call Mom.”
Yeah, you need to restore the balance of your relationship. Let her be your mom and take care of you. You’ve been taking care of her too much.
“Balance. It’s all been about balances. Junior upset a balance by projecting his fears on the plane.”
Before that. The faeries upset the balance by exchanging him for a human child.
“And he twisted the change into a hated exile.”
You restored the balance on the plane with your songs.
“WindScribe upset the balance by killing the king of Faery.”
Leaving the universe open to plundering by the likes of Gregbaum and Junior.
“But we put things in motion to heal that breach.” The image of Lady Lucia sinking her fangs into Gregbaum’s throat threatened to overwhelm me.
“How did Gregbaum kidnap the faeries? He was human. I know he had Junior’s help, but they’d both have trouble getting into the chat room let alone into Faery. Otherwise Junior would have gone back a long time ago.”
Scrap let that one sink into my mind.
“He had help. Not Lucia. She thought the faeries had come willingly to escape the imbalance in their home. Donovan?”
He’s human now, too. But he will make sure any remaining mutant faeries are dealt with.
The place where the diamond ring had rested on my finger burned with emptiness. “An imp can go anywhere. An imp can take his Warrior anywhere! Sancroix and Fortitude.”
Scrap and I stared at each other in horror. The darkness of Fortitude’s skin, almost black now, finally took on meaning. The imp had gone rogue and dragged Sancroix along with him.
Fortitude stopped listening to Sancroix and started working with Junior a long time ago. Sancroix may not have been involved.
“He had to have known even if he didn’t participate. The bond between imp and human is too strong to hide something like that. He and Fortitude have become almost as evil as the imp imprisoned in the ring.”
Junior started Fortitude on the path of darkness. Sancroix and Sister Gert believed him to be their son. They registered him as their orphaned nephew because of archaic prejudice against children born out of wedlock.
“Why’d they help me free the faeries?”
Because Fortitude likes killing things. Doesn’t matter what side they’re on, as long as he tastes blood. Just like the mutant faeries. Just like Junior. He gains pleasure vicariously when others kill.
They hadn’t just killed the mutant faeries on the stage. They’d mutilated them with extreme violence even after they were all dead. Junior must have been watching from the wings.
Or maybe he diverted Gert away from the carnage, knowing she’d object.
A knock on my door. I dashed to open it, praying with every step, every rapid heartbeat that my Gollum had returned to me.
Lady Lucia stood before me in flowing red draperies from the Napoleonic era. The high-waisted gown, lace-trimmed scoop neck, and puffy sleeves suited her. She’d dressed her bleached locks in casual ringlets. More than a bit of her youthful beauty shone through her lustrous pale skin. The long strand of pearls, doubled and looped about her throat echoed the same luster.
“Invite me in,” she demanded with almost no accent.
“Do I have to?”
“No. But you do not wish to discuss our business in public, and I may not enter without invitation.” She tapped her foot impatiently.
More vampire mythology.
Don’t do it, babe. She smells funny.
“For this one meeting I grant you permission to enter.” Yeah, I’d read a bit of vampire fiction myself. I knew the rules.
She breezed past me and took up a position of command before the windows. The night lights of Vegas made a halo around her.
I didn’t need my magical comb to recognize it for an illusion. Scrap flitted about, trying to stay between us. I wanted to swat him away, but didn’t dare betray his agitation to a potential enemy.
“The ring.” Lucia held out her hand.
“No congratulations on a job well done? No questions about the disposition of the mutants? No polite ‘Hello’?”
That’s it, dahling, show no fear.
Lucia tapped her foot impatiently. “I know all of that. You promised me the ring. Now give it to me.” Her eyes betrayed her. They shifted constantly, wary, only occasionally glancing at my neck.
If she could see Scrap, she didn’t let her gaze linger on him.
Self-consciously, I shifted my shoulders so that the turtleneck of my sweater rose higher.
“I apologize, Lucia. I no longer possess the ring.”
“What!” she screeched like a banshee. Her eyes turned funny. Not the vertically slitted yellow monstrosities portrayed on television. I can’t describe it. They just looked strange.
Uh, oh. Pink flashed across Scrap’s skin like a neon light on the fritz.
I shrugged. “I had to give up the ring to Prince Mikhail as part of the rescue operation.” I tried for casual and dropped into a chair. My knees continued to tremble even after I took the weight off them.
Maybe it was just that groin injury making them weak.
Yeah. Right.
Anyway, I knew better than to engage her gaze. I stared at my ringless fingers instead.
Damn. Now I’d never wear Gollum’s ring. The only one I truly wanted.
“What happened to my ring?” she ground out.
“I had to put it on Mickey’s hand to keep the portal open long enough to get him through. He got hurt. Badly.”
“This is not acceptable.”
“Sorry. That’s the way it is. There is nothing you or I can do about it now.”
“You owe me that ring.” She grabbed my collar and lifted me to my feet.
I didn’t see her move. I swear it. One heartbeat she was five paces away. The next she was on top of me, holding me upright by one hand. Baring her fangs.
This close I could see the seam of artificial dentures.
In my peripheral vision I saw Scrap turn vermilion. He dropped to my hand, half extended.
“Uh, I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Lucia.”
“By the rules of the Powers That Be, I claim you as forfeit.” She opened her mouth, aiming for my neck.
“Want a Celestial Blade embedded in your spine? You may have a few drops of Damiri demon in you, but I can end your shadow existence before you can break the surface of my skin.” To make my point (pun intended) I let Scrap’s sharpening tail caress her ribs.
She dropped me abruptly.
“We are not finished, Warrior. You owe me.”
“I acknowledge that I owe you an honorable service at some time in the future.” I’d figure out how to break this rule later. Right now, I needed my life intact.
She dropped me abruptly.
My knees wobbled, but I remained upright. Scrap shrunk back to his normal shape and size but remained bright red.
Lucia’s nose wiggled. “I smell blood. Close. It smells like yours.”
“I’m not bleeding.” I checked to make sure.
“Not you. A relative.” She aimed her rapid steps for the door.
“Mom!”
Call your mom, babe. I have a funny feeling. Scrap rubbed his very red belly.
I speed dialed her cell phone.
It went right to voice mail. She was either using it or had turned it off.
I called Penny’s landline.
A sultry voice promised to call me back if I left a message.
“Where is she, Scrap? You’ve got to find her.”
Parking lot. Now!
Elevator too slow. I pushed Lucia aside and fairly flew down the stairs, sliding on the banister when I could. Five flights. Ten landings. Too many.
“Time, Scrap.”
Hurry!
“Go ahead. Do what you can.”
My imp needed no other prodding. He popped out. Then came back to me as I launched myself out the fire door into the parking lot. He glowed bright vermilion and stretched longer than I’d ever seen him.
I hit the pavement, feet en garde and shaft of my blade twirling. Lamps on tall poles lit the entire area as bright as day.
Breven Sancroix faced me. Fortitude lounged on his shoulder, cleaning his talons with a long forked tongue. His skin had darkened perceptibly.
Then I saw my mother’s body lying neatly on the ground, hands crossed on her chest. Her eyes stared sightlessly at the stars, her mouth half open in a surprised “Oh.” Six long bloody gashes spread upward from her belly to her throat. Her favorite plum-colored slacks and lavender blouse were ruined.
“What have you done to her?” I screamed. I longed to run to Mom, to force her heart to beat and her lungs to breathe.
I knew in my head it was too late. I’d wasted too much time with that bitchy pseudo vampire.
I hadn’t been here for my mom when she needed me most.
“I did the world a favor,” Sancroix defended himself. He sounded almost casual, as if murder were an everyday incident for him.
Maybe it was. Fortitude didn’t look particularly troubled.
“She was an innocent!” A red mist rose before my eyes as my temper soared. She couldn’t be dead. She just couldn’t.
I had to go to her. But I had to go through him to get to her.
“She carried a demon baby. No woman who lies with a demon is innocent,” he sneered.
That stopped me cold. “Darren. Her husband died less than two days after they married!”
“Makes no difference. The Damiri are incredibly fertile. They breed and breed and breed again with as many women as they can. We took care of the problem.”
“You idiot. How stupid can you be? She’s too old . . .”
“Not for a Damiri.”
He made to step past me.
I blocked him with the shaft of my Celestial Blade.
“You have broken your most solemn vow of the Brotherhood. To protect the innocent. You should have done your research before you took the law into your own hands. But you killed your archivist, too. Because he got in your way.”
“I watched her for five days. She picked at her food. Yet she glowed. She was pregnant. I had to dispose of the baby before it grew enough to take over her body and make her nearly invulnerable.” His eyes became hard and cold.
“She glowed because she was happy, she’d finally found herself in her music. She picked at her food because she was trying to lose weight for her new career,” I ground out, keeping my teeth clenched so that I didn’t scream.
“That doesn’t . . .”
“She had a complete hysterectomy right after I was born. She had no eggs to fertilize, no womb to nurture a fetus. You murdered an innocent woman. You murdered my mother.”
He lost some of his self-righteous calm. His imp looked up from his grooming. Fortitude nudged him. They communicated silently.
Can you catch what they’re saying, Scrap?
A strong sense of negative emanated from my Celestial Blade.
“Don’t listen to her, Dad. She’s lying,” Junior said quietly from the shadows. His voice carried a similar calming magic to Donovan’s.
“Your mother married a demon. She had to die,” Sancroix affirmed.
“That’s right. She had to die,” Junior echoed.
“Did she?” Sister Gert sounded hesitant, from right beside her son. Her changeling son, I reminded myself.
“No, she didn’t need to die. Your imp, goaded on by your changeling son, needed to taste innocent blood. They elected my mom. You’ve lost control of your imp, Sancroix. Lost him to the man you raised to be your son.”
“Impossible.”
“Look at his skin. Look at how dark he is. The last time a rogue imp turned black, the faeries imprisoned him in a diamond, forcing him to stare at himself and examine his sins from inside the facets for all eternity.” I shifted my stance, ready to lash out the moment I had the right opportunity. The fact that Scr
ap remained in Blade form with no demons present meant we faced incredible evil.
Sancroix had to die. I should turn him over to the law. But with an imp to whisk him away through the chat room, no prison could contain him.
Did I have the courage to kill another human being, no matter how evil? Would I be stepping along the same rogue path he’d taken if I did?
“What have you done, Breven?” Gert asked from behind me.
“Have you gone rogue, too, Mrs. Sancroix?” I sneered.
“An innocent. You have killed an innocent,” she said. Anguish colored her voice. She moved forward, knelt beside my mother’s body. “You have changed beyond recognition, Breven. I turned a blind eye to your bloodlust when it came to demons. I let you fight the mutants tonight without me because I knew you needed to spill blood. No more. You must kill no more.”
Then, quite unexpectedly she bowed her head as in prayer. Juniper, her imp, did the same.
Gert’s hand covered my own in the only act of tenderness I’d ever seen from her. “Take care, Sister. You are needed outside the Citadel. Don’t let the monsters make you one of them. Go back home often to renew yourself and your commitment.”
Fortitude saw us as no threat. Not even a hint of pink on his wing tips. Just that unrelenting deep green that bordered on black. I’d seen him completely transform in a heartbeat.
Overconfidence led to stupidity. These two had already committed that blunder once tonight.
I knew what I had to do.
“You need to go back to a Citadel, Sancroix,” I said.
“Those useless, hidebound . . .”
Before he could finish his thought; before I had time to think, Gert rose up and clamped a choke hold on her husband. Juniper keened long and loud. She rose up and landed on Fortitude’s back, talons out, all three rows of her teeth clamped upon his throat.
The two imps tumbled and rolled, snapped wings open and shut. Fortitude flipped himself on top of the battle.
I stepped forward, ready to break it up.
Go to your mother, Tess, Scrap commanded me. In an eye blink he’d morphed into a glowing white imp, far larger than I’d ever seen him.
“Stop it, Gert. They’ll kill each other!” Sancroix screamed. He looked pale and sweating.
