Court of Dreams

by Crawford, C. N.

  “Evell dispennior.”

  Birds as large as pterodactyls formed from fog swooped down, plucking up the vampires, carrying them away.

  My monstrous mist soldiers picked off one vampire after another, tearing them to shreds, dragging them away until we had only a small crowd left. Then, I leapt back down into the fray—not far from Ruadan. He was still fighting viciously, unfatigued, and I started fighting alongside him.

  I drove my blade through the heart of another vamp. His body started to slump, and I gripped his hand. A tattoo marked his skin—the bundle of sticks. Baleros’s symbol. No surprises there.

  I let him fall to the ground, then I severed his head. With only a few vampires remaining, it was time to get some information before they were all dead.

  “Ruadan!” I shouted, fending off another attacker. “Cover me. I need to torture someone.”

  A statuesque, brunette vamp lunged for me, her sword raised. I gripped the hilt of my own sword, blood pumping hard. Behind me, I could hear Ruadan’s blade clashing with our attackers. I had no doubt he could hold his own with these numbers.

  I felt as if sharpened claws were stroking down my shoulder blades, making me shiver. My wings ached to emerge, but I kept in control.

  “I am the beginning and the end.” I spoke the words quietly, but they echoed off the stone around us. I am your broken spirit as pain eats your body. I am the insects that make their home in your flesh.

  The vamp looked startled, her eyes widening as her attacks grew slower. I was holding back, unwilling to unleash my death magic—and yet the force of my presence struck fear into her. Fog coiled around her in thick tendrils.

  Good. I seemed to terrify her so much I didn’t actually need to torture her.

  I took a step closer. She started shaking, frozen in place.

  My fingers twitched. “Stay here and tell me what I want to know, vampire, and I’ll let you live.”

  I gripped her by the throat, lifting her into the air. I could read the terror on her features—the silent, abject horror of her final death.

  My wings were desperate to emerge, but I couldn’t lose control completely again. “Do you understand what I’m saying, vampire?”

  She nodded mutely.

  “Do you work for Baleros?” I asked.

  She nodded again.

  “Where is he?”

  “A … a church. I think. We’re not supposed to know which one.” She was struggling to speak—possibly because I was nearly crushing her throat, but I didn’t want to let her go.

  “Which church?”

  “I don’t know the name.” Her body trembled. “But I can tell you something else! He gave something to the god of night. A ring. Some kind of magic ring. A cage. It had—”

  Her eyes bulged wide, and a gagging sound rose from her throat. Then, her eyes went dull and dead.

  Had I broken her?

  But when I looked down at the vampire, I saw that it wasn’t me who’d killed her. No, the tip of a long, iron knife protruded from her chest. Before my eyes, her body crumbled into a pile of dust, the iron knife clanging beside it.

  What the hells?

  I looked up, and my heart skipped a beat. There—another angel in the sky, his wings thumping the air like a war drum. The moon haloed his head, making it hard to see his face.

  My breath left my lungs. Dad?

  He was holding another knife—one aimed right at me. My chest constricted, and time seemed to slow down, the night wind rushing over me. Why did he look like he wanted to kill me?

  When he threw the knife, I dodged. It narrowly missed my chest.

  I breathed out. Not Adonis, then. My father would not have missed.

  Ruadan’s low growl rumbled over the stone, his eyes on the angel as well. Piles of ash lay around us. It was only at this point that I realized my thoughts had been confused, muddled by my desperation to see my dad. Sometimes demons had feathered wings, and that was what this was.

  Ruadan’s icy magic whipped through the air as we stared up at the haloed demon, my lungs tight as a drum.

  As the demon pulled another iron knife from a sheath, I got a glimpse of a purple amulet at his throat—a glowing lumen stone. Then, as he shifted away from the moon, a glimpse of red hair.

  “Maddan,” said Ruadan.

  I took a step closer, gaping at him. “Maddan? Who gave you wings?”

  Chapter 18

  He threw another knife, but I leapt forward and caught the hilt in midair.

  “Good reflexes,” he said. “You must be jealous that I can fly without creating an apocalypse.”

  I crossed my arms. “Um, actually, I can do it fine as long as I’m perpetually drunk.” My mist soldiers still stood around me, waiting for my next orders. I could command them to tear Maddan to pieces, but I had so many questions for him before he died. “Okay, prince, how is it that you’re flying, and how did you end up here?”

  His wings beat the air. “Baleros asked me to keep an eye on you. He trusts me, now that I’m powerful. And as soon as I saw all the mist so far away from the Tower, I knew I’d found you. That’s the problem with the mist armies, isn’t it? Not very discreet. I flew toward the fog, and I thought, there’s my girl, torturing someone for information. Again. And now I can tell Baleros where you are. He will make me one of his generals in no time.”

  “He already knows where we are.” Ruadan gestured at all the dusty piles. “He sent his army after us. The army died. You are completely useless.”

  Maddan’s lip curled. “Right, well, I killed one of them before she gave you any valuable information. As I said. I’m an important asset.”

  I gaped at him. “Can we get back to the wings? Because what the hells?”

  A bright blast of shadow magic crackled along Maddan’s arm. “Mmmm, no. How about I kill you instead?”

  A bone-shattering burst of shadow magic slammed me back into the stone wall. The magic seemed to freeze me from the inside out. Glacial emptiness pooled in my ribs, eating at me. My mind flickered with images of the shadow void—the skeletal trees, the jagged isolation.

  Grunting, I rolled onto my hands and knees, muscles locking with the cold. The blast had knocked Ruadan back a bit, too. But since shadow magic was an intrinsic part of him, he absorbed it better.

  From the rocky ground, I looked up at Maddan, who hovered like a dark angel before the moon. Violet shadow magic crackled over his body, icy cold. How had he acquired all this magic?

  Wisps of magic curled off Ruadan, too. He summoned a ball of shadow magic in his palm, and he hurled it at Maddan.

  Maddan rocketed back, but he recovered quickly. Within moments, bolts of shadow magic ignited the sky between them, flashing like lightning. As they fought each other, shadow magic electrified the air.

  “Evell dispennior,” I said, and my mist soldiers melded together into an enormous bird. The creature swooped for him—but just before his beak clamped down on Maddan’s head, the winged fae prince shadow-leapt away. The mist bird swirled and twisted back down to earth—silent sentinels once more, awaiting my commands.

  Ruadan turned to me, his powerful body still crackling with magic. His eyes had darkened to pure black.

  My muscles groaned, and I rubbed my shoulder. “I’m going to need a theory about what just happened, because that was bizarre. You got any ideas about how Maddan got wings?”

  “Somehow, he’s been in the void for a long time. The shadow void transformed him into a demon. The Maddan we just saw there is not the same as the Maddan you last knew.”

  “I have so many questions, I don’t even know where to start.” I rubbed my eyes. “Okay, I have one. I just saw him two days ago, minus the wings. How could it be that he’s been in the void for a long time?”

  “Time can pass differently there. Two days here could have been decades there. I doubt he went in willingly. His father probably forced him into the void in the hopes of getting a more useful son.”

  “Right. Okay, seco
nd of all, did Nyxobas make this happen?”

  “Yes.”

  I really hated Ruadan’s grandfather at this point. “Why would he give that walking cold sore more power?”

  Ruadan cocked his head. “Have you wondered why Baleros has vampires working for him?”

  I hugged myself, still cold from the shadow magic. “He always had vampires in the arena, but it is odd, considering he had committed his soul to Emerazel. The goddess of fire and the god of night are ancient enemies. They’re not usually working on the same side.”

  “And yet, somehow, he’s amassing shadow creatures on his side. For whatever reason, Nyxobas is doing him favors. Nyxobas turned Maddan into a demon.”

  Demented Mike’s words rang in my head. The gods are hungry for souls, and they care for nothing else.

  I glanced at the moon. “The vampire I just interrogated said something about a ring. And a cage. Baleros gave Nyxobas a magic ring. Does that mean anything to you? A ring cage?”

  Ruadan stared at me, eyes dark as jet. “A soul cage.”

  “What?”

  “It’s an object—like a ring or a stone—that’s full of thousands of souls. They’re extremely rare. They’re the most powerful currency when bargaining with a god. With a soul cage, you can get a powerful ally. At least for a time.”

  The gods only care about one thing…. “Bloody hells. We don’t even know what favors he’s asked for. We have no idea what to expect.” I thrust my fingers into my hair. “Maddan said that Baleros had a powerful ally on his side. I guess now we know who it is.” My stomach was still in knots.

  “What else did the vampires say?” asked Ruadan.

  I nodded at one of the piles of ash, though I had no idea who was who at this point. “She said Baleros is in a church.”

  “Good. Okay. It’s a start. But there are almost fifty churches within the square mile in the City, and several hundred in London as a whole.”

  We’d have to find Baleros later. Aenor came first. “You know what? Let’s get this Skin Flayer woman first, and we will narrow down the churches later. We still need to get to my dad, or we won’t have any Shadow Fae left to help us capture Baleros.” I turned to my mist army, and I dismissed them with a single fae word. “Distronnor.”

  They wafted away, light puffs of smoke in the night. The Institute was vulnerable and needed the protection more than I did right now.

  “Are you ready?” asked Ruadan.

  I nodded, and we shadow-leapt over to the trap door Ruadan had opened. From there, we peered down into the tunnel. A faint, golden glow lit earthen walls. Ruadan was the first to jump into the trap door, his sword still drawn. He landed hard on the dirt floor, then beckoned for me to follow.

  I scooted over the edge and jumped in after him, turning to face the source of light. We couldn’t see much from here, and particles of dirt hung in the air. A cackling noise filled the dank tunnel, and the sound sent a shiver up my spine. Gripping our weapons, we marched toward the source of the light until the tunnel opened into a cavernous, earthen room.

  On the far side, a woman with white hair sat in front of an aged television set, laughing. Two black cats dozed in her lap.

  I had a feeling this wasn’t Aenor. She smelled faintly of mold and soil, and little else. My first instinct was that these were guards of some kind—demonic creatures in disguise.

  My hands started to sweat, paranoia spiking as I surveyed the room. Calm yourself, Liora. I was ready to stab this lady just because Baleros had trained me to kill first and ask questions later. I risked killing not only an innocent woman, but the person who could tell us where to find Aenor.

  I loosened my grip on my sword. I was free from Baleros’s influence now. I cocked my head, studying the woman.

  She’d fashioned her nightgown into a sort of bowl, out of which she was eating sugar cereal mixed with what looked like small finger bones. Apart from the cats, the television, and an old pair of clogs on the floor, the room was just earth walls and floor.

  Behind her ragged armchair, an aged door stood set into the wood. Like she was guarding it.

  I cleared my throat. “Excuse me, do you know—”

  She grunted, then pointed a bony finger at the television. “Don’t interrupt my stories.”

  “We’re looking for Aenor, Flayer of Skins,” said Ruadan.

  She popped a finger bone in her mouth. “Not me. I’m Karen, Watcher of Television. And you’re interrupting the best parts.”

  After the night we’d had, I was all out of patience. “My name is Liora, Eviscerator of Those Who Don’t Answer My Bloody Questions.”

  Ruadan put a steadying hand on my arm, and I felt soothing magic skim up my bicep. I narrowed my eyes at him. Don’t try to calm my anger. It’s my oldest friend.

  Then, I let out a steadying breath. I wasn’t Baleros’s pawn anymore.

  Ruadan’s magic snaked over the room, almost as a warning. “You’re Aenor’s guard.”

  “Got that right.” She crunched the cereal. “No one gets past me.”

  My fingers twitched on my hilt, and I glanced at the door just behind her. But it was Ruadan who spoke as he drew his sword from its sheath. Thick, dark vampire blood dripped off the blade onto the floor, and the cats began to stir in her lap, hackles raised.

  “We’re running out of time,” said Ruadan, his voice laced with steel. “And we need to speak to Aenor, now. I don’t want to have to hurt you.”

  This time, it was my turn to put a hand on Ruadan’s arm, stilling his fury. “Wait,” I whispered. What if she was just a frail old human woman with her cats?

  She narrowed her eyes at the television. “No one’s speaking to Aenor tonight,” she grumbled. “Get out of here before I get cranky.”

  Ruadan shot me a furious glare. I’d interrupted his terrifying demigod flow. “I will kill you if I have to,” he added.

  “You can stop grandstanding and showing off!” she barked. “You’re about to forfeit your souls.”

  Oh, shit. What?

  Her jaw unhinged, dropping open to reveal a chasm. The sound of a thousand tormented screams rose from her gullet, vibrating around my skull, then the room went silent once more. Her dark eyes were wide with fury.

  The scream had transfixed me in place. Already, I could feel my body hollowing out, emptiness carving through me.

  Bloody hells, Karen.

  Chapter 19

  Just then, the door creaked open, and a voice called out, “Karen! I told you to send them through.”

  Karen snorted. “These two monsters?”

  “Yes,” the female voice said from the other room. “I’ve been waiting for them.”

  The TV reception crackled and sputtered. Karen reached down to throw a clog at the television set. She burst into laughter again, stuffing her mouth with sugar cereal and finger bones.

  I turned to see what was so hilarious, disturbed to find that it was a PSA about drug addiction, featuring a man convulsing on the floor with a syringe sticking out of his arm.

  She giggled. Then, without taking her gaze from the screen, she said, “Aenor’s through there. Waiting, apparently. You can go on.”

  I stepped around the bits of cereal and bones on the floor to get to the door, and I squeezed past her armchair.

  I pulled open the door open to reveal a shop filled with shelves of herbs, shrunken heads, and other unsettling curiosities. A rough-hewn counter stood by the far wall, its surface cluttered with bell jars of taxidermy animals and gnarled trinkets. But my eye was really drawn to the girl standing in the center of the shop.

  Her pale blue hair draped over narrow shoulders and a tank top. She was hula-hooping in jean shorts and high heels. With her large, dark eyes and heart-shaped face, she seemed far too innocent for the eerie-looking tattoos all over her body. Her hips moved rhythmically to a crackling Elvis record. Suspicious Minds, specifically. Not what I’d been expecting. Gorgeous, tan skin, like a tiny goddess.

  “We’re looking f
or Aenor, Flayer of Skins,” I began. “Scourge of the Wicked,” I added, though it was probably not necessary. How many Aenor Skin Flayers could there be?

  She blew an enormous pink chewing-gum bubble and popped it. The hula-hooping continued. “That’s me.”

  I shot a quick look at Ruadan, but I could hardly see him. He was pulling his indistinct trick, coming in unnoticed.

  “You’re Aenor?” I asked.

  “Yeah. I thought I saw you coming in one of my scrying mirrors. As it happens, I need to cut a deal with the Shadow Fae. Karen was supposed to let you past. She gets confused when she’s watching her stories.”

  I’d been so fixated on Aenor that I nearly hadn’t noticed the hearts nailed to the wall—desiccated, each one with a nail through the center. By their size, some looked human, and others looked demon or fae.

  I bit my lip. “You sell hearts?”

  “Yeah. Men’s hearts.” Just like that. Like it needed no other explanation beyond their gender. Nothing untoward here. The owners of these organs had Y chromosomes, so obviously it’s all above board.

  As she hula-hooped, she toyed with a silver locket around her neck.

  “Right. Great. So—” I glanced at Ruadan again, hoping to convey with the arching of a single eyebrow that he needed to let me handle this, because this chick was crazy, and she hated blokes. I had no idea if he understood the gesture, since I couldn’t see his face.

  “Who are you?” she asked. Her accent was American.

  I cleared my throat, now even more certain that I should disguise my identity until I knew more. What was a normal-sounding, believable pseudonym?

  “My name,” I began, “is … Dr. Margery T. Beaglehole.”

  Nope. Not that. Frustrated, I pinched the bridge of my nose, and I was pretty sure I could hear Ruadan sighing behind me.

  “Yeah, that’s not your name,” said Aenor. “Adonis might have killed loads of people with his mind, but he’d never be cruel enough to name his kid Margery Beaglehole.”

  I stared at her. So, the jig was up. “How did you know I’m related to him?”