by Brook Rogers
“All right then.” I shrugged off the sad look in his eyes and tucked some stray hair behind my ears. “Will he be able to find us?”
Bran grinned. “You saw the portal magic. He can come directly to us with our blood nexus.”
“Good.” I crouched down and dug the Benelli out of Dubhlain’s bag, then passed it to Bran, who propped it up on his shoulder.
I didn’t even want to think about how weird their blood . . . what had he called it? Nexus. Right. Blood bonds creeped me out. Just the thought of someone having that kind of power over me sent a shudder down my spine.
Would a soul bond be like that? Gods, I hoped not.
Before I could let it worry me further, we set off to find Conall and his charges.
Chapter 20
Catching up with Conall took longer than I expected. We formed a loose group, Conall taking over Dubhlain’s spot as lead. Bran and I traded off watching the rear.
We intentionally put Peep and the elf in the middle, because they’d have the hardest time defending themselves. The bracelets that kept them from using their magic still glinted around their wrists.
We topped a small rise, and Conall crouched, motioning for the rest of us to get down also. Bran and I belly-crawled up to where he was staring down into the valley.
I couldn’t decide if I wanted to laugh or cry.
The Manticore circled a large mound of fresh dirt. It would pounce on it, then retreat. Sometimes it would hover over the top of the hill and dig furiously only to sneeze repeatedly and scamper away. I turned to Bran and Conall, but they looked as perplexed as me.
I jumped a little when the elf spoke right next to my ear, muttering as if to himself, “I can’t believe she did it. I mean, it had to be her, but I thought it was beyond even her power.”
My eyes widened. “You know what that is?” I whispered.
He nodded. “Yes, it’s a fairy mound.”
“You have got to be shitting me. In the Hell Plane?” I didn’t whisper that time.
The Queen had created her own slice of Fae in another realm. This wasn’t a portal but an actual physical manifestation of Fae. Transplanting realms just wasn’t done. It would take a tremendous amount of power to even think of doing so, and beyond that, it was widely considered an act of invasion. This could start an all-out war.
Of course, if she succeeded in opening the Underworld, everyone would be at war anyway.
My optimism faded. This fairy mound could very well be connected to Fae itself. If the Manticore was stuck out here, the Queen could easily disappear into her own realm, and we’d never find her or the stone.
Today just kept getting better and better.
“We have to go in. That’s where the Queen will be,” Conall said. “As hard as she’s worked to get the stone, she’ll want to use it soon.”
Peep spoke up. “What stone?”
I cringed guiltily. We really hadn’t clued him or the elf in on what we were truly facing. Time to spill the beans and hope they didn’t bail.
“She has the Manes stone,” I said quietly, and all the color drained from his face. “Look,” I hurried to add, “if you and Elfie don’t want to be a part of this, I understand.” The elf shot me an offended pout, but I pushed on, an idea starting to form in my mind. “Until the rest of us can get into that fairy mound, we need him”—I pointed at the elf—“to distract the Manticore with glamour.”
“My name is Rydolf,” he sniffed haughtily. “I would appreciate if you used it.”
It was nice to see the Fae show a little backbone. Perhaps he’d be of some help after all.
“I’d like to go with you,” he continued, resolute, “but if you wish me to make a glamour, you’ll have to remove these cuffs.”
I gave them all a quick outline of what I was thinking, watching Conall and Bran expectantly. They pondered my plan in silence for a moment.
“Good choices,” Conall finally told the elf. He pointedly held Rydolf’s gaze for a beat before putting his hand on the cuffs. The manacles fell away with a hiss, turning black when they hit the ground. Single use then. Had Dubhlain made them? Or were they something Infinity supplied? They weren’t anything like the cuffs Enforcement used.
My attention turned to Peep. He gave a quick nod and held his arm out to Conall. I smiled in approval.
Conall and Bran opened their bags and began to arm themselves—pistols, knives, a sword. Bran even tucked a couple grenades into his pocket. When they finished, Conall waved at the elf to proceed.
Rydolf rubbed his wrists where the bracelets had been, then shook his hands out and closed his eyes. We sat there waiting, but nothing happened. Finally, I crawled up to peek into the valley.
Gods, the elf really was a master illusionist.
The Manticore had abandoned the fairy mound and was chasing birds. Giant birds. They dived and swooped, their vibrant plumage a stark contrast to the dull tones of the brush. The creature raced around and jumped comically to try and catch the illusions. Rydolf’s birds led a merry chase to the farthest end of the valley, giving us a clear opening to the fairy mound.
On Conall’s signal, we jumped up and ran for our target. My eyes stayed glued on the monstrous creature the whole trip across the valley, fully expecting it to turn and spot us at any second. But the glamour held well and continued to do its job, even as the tall elf kept pace with us across the exposed stretch of short grass.
We found the door to the fairy mound set into one side, slightly below ground level. Conall reached for the handle, but Rydolf flung out an arm to stop him.
“Don’t touch it! See that mark? It’s a rune that will likely take your arm off. Let me try.” The elf bent to peer at the door, carefully moving his hands above it as though feeling for something. I checked on the Manticore and gasped.
The birds were flickering—some disappeared altogether and then reappeared elsewhere. The monster had stopped running after them and stood watching the spastic display, cocking its head first one way, then the other. Slowly, that big head swiveled toward the fairy mound.
Shit.
“Rydolf, the glamour!” I yelled and threw him to the side. He began to conjure a full-on avian assault force to dive-bomb the beast stalking toward us, but that didn’t seem to faze it at all. It realized the birds were only an illusion now. We had to move fast.
“Peep!” His head jerked my way, and I pointed toward the door. “Burn it.”
Streams of fire shot out of the demon’s hands, engulfing the door, while Conall, Bran, and I backed away and drew our weapons. A ball of energy crackled to life in my left hand, the magic coming easy to me this time. In my right, I held the khopesh, its blade dancing with the same silvery black. Now that was an upgrade I could get on board with.
I threw the energy ball at the Manticore. A hole erupted in its shoulder, and the creature screamed. Conall and Bran opened fire next, the sounds melding into a cacophony of battle.
When a winged figure dropped from the sky, I almost thought it was part of Rydolf’s glamour—until it shot a flaming arrow into the monster’s eye. The Manticore roared and stumbled, pawing at the injury.
I tipped my head back.
Winged valkyries were descending on the valley—some with guns and bows, others carrying people that they deposited on the ground near us. A vampire named Aslyn, whom I recognized as a friend of Grand-mère’s, gave me a crazed smile as he began to assemble an Anzio 22mm antitank rifle. The cavalry had arrived.
An explosion blew dirt, shards of wood, and a shocked Peep by me. I ran to where he lay and grabbed his arm, helping him sit up. “Gods, Peep, are you all right?”
Bran knelt on his other side, checking for injuries.
“Door’s open,” Peep rasped, then coughed out little puffs of smoke. I patted his shoulder.
“Bruises. Nothing major,” Bran announced as he got the demon to his feet.
Conall was waiting by the open doorway. Grand-mère landed beside him with a thump, and lightning fast, he had hi
s guns pointed at her. I launched myself forward and wrapped her in a hug, and he lowered the weapons, though he still looked tense and uneasy.
Grand-mère squeezed me affectionately, and I introduced her to Peep and the berserkers, who looked much less alarmed at the whole situation after I explained who she was.
A pang of envy I couldn’t quite squelch sliced through me as Grand-mère folded away her beautiful white wings. She drew a diamond-edged sword with the Valkyrie Crest on the hilt: a pair of wings flanking a garnet. Even the damn crest taunted me.
“The Queen will have the outcasts guarding her,” she said, every bit the fierce warrior. “We’ll have to go through them first.”
Right. Another shield made of people.
Rydolf had joined us, and Grand-mère’s words made him wince. “Please don’t kill them. Most will be like me. They don’t support her but are forced to do what she says.” His eyes were beseeching, filled with grief. “We don’t have a choice.”
I glanced around our group. We needed to come up with a plan that would incapacitate the Fae but not harm them.
“I’ve got two percussion grenades,” Bran volunteered. He pulled them out and handed them to Conall.
More than two grenades would’ve been better, but the fact that he had a nonlethal option at all was a miracle. The rest of us offered only death. Once we were out of grenades, we’d have no choice but to defend ourselves with force. And who knew how many outcasts were inside the mound? I cast a grim look from the grenades to Rydolf.
With the crew Grand-mère had brought keeping the Manticore busy, we readied ourselves. Bran passed me the Benelli and I checked the safety. Conall pulled the pin and threw the first grenade into the darkness beyond the doorway.
“Fire in the hole!” he yelled, covering his ears and turning away. We all followed suit.
Dust belched out of the opening, and both Conall and Bran turned on lights that were rail mounted on their handguns. Conall led the way, followed by Grand-mère. I went next, Peep and Rydolf behind me, with Bran bringing up the rear.
The lights reflected off the particles in the air, giving everything a hazy, dusty cast. We were maybe fifty feet inside the dirt tunnel when we came across the first body. Conall directed his light over the satyr’s prone form, the beam catching on a thin trickle of blood leaking out of his pointed ear. More bodies quickly came into view farther down the passage, some piled on top of each other. The sheer number of outcasts shocked me. They had to have been stacked in here like cordwood when the flashbang went off.
As we picked our way over and around the unconscious Fae, I searched for any kind of blades or other weapons. Rydolf was right. None of them were armed. The Queen really had been willing to sacrifice all of them for her chance to use the stone.
The dirt walls soon gave way to crude rock, and the tunnel turned into a square-shaped hallway as we approached an intersection. Identical paths branched to the left and right, and a single lantern hung on the wall, illuminating our dilemma. Which one led to the Queen? If we split up, we would have no way of communicating with the other group.
“I don’t want to do it, but we’re going to have to split up,” Conall said, speaking my thoughts out loud. He turned to Bran. “If you find her, don’t engage. Get us immediately. We’ll do the same.”
Grand-mère, Conall, and Rydolf went left, and Bran, Peep, and I took the right fork. After a few minutes, I glanced behind me, but the other group’s light had already disappeared. My heart crawled into the base of my throat and lodged there, making it hard to swallow. If anything happened to Grand-mère . . .
So far on this trip, my experiences underground hadn’t been stellar, and I’d already tasted the Queen’s particular brand of hospitality. I knew we were in for a rough time. Dread sat cold and heavy in my stomach. It was up to us to prevent Armageddon—or die trying.
Chapter 21
The farther we traveled into the tunnel, the more polished the walls became. It went from raw dirt to the opulence of a Grecian palace. The floor, too, changed to slick polished marble, and despite the elaborate lanterns dotting the walls every few feet, several sets of sheer curtains hanging over the now vast hallway seriously decreased our visibility.
The transition made my adrenaline spike, the tiny hairs on my arms standing up. Our presence surely hadn’t gone unnoticed. The grenade practically guaranteed someone had heard us coming.
When Bran swiped aside another of those damn curtains, a leprechaun on the other side startled and tried to run, his little legs struggling for purchase on the smooth floor.
“Wait!” Peep shouted.
The frightened Fae finally got traction and disappeared through the next curtain. As one, we started moving.
Right before we burst through the fabric, Bran made a grab for me but missed, shouting something I couldn’t hear over the collective pounding of our boots. I was going too fast to stop when my brain finally registered the fine glittery mesh the curtain had been hiding. There wasn’t even time to lament how I knew better before I collided with it, and every sense receptor in my body lit up like the Fourth of July.
Peep hit the floor first, and I wasn’t far behind. It was like the magical equivalent of a Taser. My muscles went rigid, and my teeth clamped tightly together. It’s possible I peed a couple drops.
Thankfully, Bran had kept a level head. He stood over us, his gun pointed at the orange-haired man I recognized from my capture at the mine—Aaron. The leprechaun we’d been chasing was nowhere in sight.
Damn Fae glamour.
Laughter floated to us from behind the man. I couldn’t move my anything, but I recognized that laugh. We’d found the Queen. She hadn't connected the mound to the Fae realm after all, but because Peep and I couldn’t keep our shit together, Bran was essentially facing her alone now. If I’d been able to, I would have smacked myself in the forehead. What was I thinking? Obviously I wasn’t, and that was the problem.
“Let’s bring the other half of the party to the party, shall we?” The Queen chuckled delightedly at the cringeworthy joke.
Pressure filled the room and pressed down on my limbs. I didn’t know how Bran stood there unaffected. With a loud pop, the pressure finally dissipated, and Bran sucked air in through his teeth.
That couldn't be good.
“I sense no others, my Queen. Two of these men have blood ties that link to each other, and I can see a third. Whoever it is, their signature is far away and holding. It’s safe to begin,” Aaron stated confidently.
If this guy could sense the berserker’s blood bond, then he was even more powerful than I first thought.
The mad Queen skewered me with an evil stare, watching as I fought to get my uncooperative body working again. Then she moved her attention to Bran. Her tongue traced her lip seductively. “I love a good triad. Before I go, I should drain the two of you of your power and leave the third lost and wandering.” More of that laughter. “Oh yes, that is an excellent idea. Blood bonds are very dangerous. Don’t you know that, boys?”
Bran stiffened, his form flickering as his berserker fought to get out. He might as well allow it, because this situation couldn’t get any more fucked. Somehow, though, he forced his anger under control.
My body was starting to respond, albeit with spastic and jerky movements. I managed to sit up—listing to the side like a ship taking on water, but basically upright. It was an improvement.
From my new position, I could see Rydolf, Grand-mère, and Conall suspended in the air in some kind of magical stasis, frozen except for the occasional lazy blink of their eyes. Confusion was stamped across their faces. Gods, we were so outclassed, magically speaking, it wasn’t even funny.
My eyes darted around the rest of the space. Runes covered the walls and ceiling of the circular stone room. Some of them I recognized, but most I did not. The Queen and Aaron stood behind a low wooden table. On its surface, displayed on a white pedestal made of tiny bones, sat what could only be the Manes stone: a
giant faceted crystal opal, similar to but far larger than the famous Virgin Rainbow. I shivered.
The Queen noticed my reaction and gave me a smile, running a finger over the gem. “It’s everything I hoped and more. Pity.” She frowned. “When I open the gates, it will be reduced to nothing. I wanted to have it set in my crown. That would have been especially striking.”
The way she casually mentioned adorning her head with an apocalypse-inducing stone drove home just how very far she’d strayed from sanity.
I swallowed thickly and forced my mouth to work. “Why?” It came out a little slurred, my tongue dry and lazy.
She laughed again, and I wanted to gouge out my eardrums. “Child, when I open the gate, they will bow to me. Everything I ever wanted will be mine. As those that are trapped in the Underworld are freed, they will raze empires. For me. I will become the Queen I was always meant to be. Every knee will bend in my honor, and those who refuse will be wiped from existence.”
Her eyes glowed with madness. The things that crawled from the Underworld weren’t going to take orders from her, but there was no way to convince her of that.
“I am done waiting. It’s time,” the Queen snapped.
Aaron worked his hands in the air, and a golden dome formed over the two of them. Bran stood as still as death. I hissed to get his attention, but he didn’t look at me. What was wrong with him?
Without warning, he fired several times in rapid succession. The bullets ricocheted off the dome, pinging into the stone walls around us to ricochet further.
“Stop!” I shouted, curling into a ball to protect myself. One of the bullets had already struck Conall in the leg; blood dripped off his boot to spatter on the white marble floor. I grunted as another grazed my bicep, and then I saw Rydolf’s body jerk. Oh gods. Red trailed down the elf’s temple. “What are you doing?”
Bran’s stricken face silenced my tirade. He wasn’t in control of his body.
Aaron winked at me.
Beside him, the Queen had begun to chant, her voice rising and falling, caressing each syllable. A dark swirling mass rotated above her. Lightning strikes lit up the moving cloud, and a low rumble shook the room and sent puffs of dust down from the ceiling. My heartbeat kicked up a notch. I was getting real sick of things trying to collapse on me.
