Vampire Deception: Thieves & Liars (Supernatural Tournament Series Book 1)

by Eli Grant

  “There was, uh, there were probably some tantrums,” Flint agreed, scratching a patch of moss on his neck, expression a bit flustered. “Fae law said they couldn’t attack Harald if he didn’t offend them or make himself a threat. They were technically in his home, so they couldn’t hurt him without a reason. Fae are usually really good at getting around that kind of thing. They couldn’t attack him outright, but they could do all kinds of things to make him miserable. Send awful bugs to crawl on him, give him terrible nightmares, dance around him with bells on for three days without stopping.”

  I grimaced sympathetically. For a troll, there was nothing worse than bells.

  “But Harald just sat there and took it all,” Flint went on, a small proud smile on his face. “For forty days, he didn’t move no matter what they did to him. Until summer was starting to fade and the Summer Court was getting weaker. Soon they’d have to leave to go fight the Winter court for the changing seasons. So finally they gave up. General Threadfern had been the one trying hardest to move Harald, so he was, uh, really upset. But he sat down with Harald to negotiate.”

  “It would have been better if he stuck with the bells,” Dee said, shaking her head. I nodded in agreement. The first thing every magical kid learned, right after “don’t do magic in public dumbass,” was never to make deals with the Fae. They’re masters of bargaining and they will always, always find a way to twist it so they can fuck you over. Frankly, we’re all lucky that Fae law is incompatible with human law, or they would be some of the most terrifying attorneys on the planet.

  “Harald knew the Fae would try to trick him,” Flint confirmed. “But he had to try. And he was one of the greatest Mediators of his age. If anyone could have done it, it was him. He came close, too.”

  Flint sighed.

  “Let me guess,” I said, already seeing where this was heading. “The General cheated.”

  “Don’t they always?” Dee said with a snort. “That’s the problem with trolls. Mediation only works if both people are actually interested in a compromise. You dinguses will sit down with anyone in good faith and then act surprised when they rob you blind.”

  “We believe in fairness,” Flint said, blunt jaw jutting forward stubbornly. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

  Dee just shook her head and patted his knee, which was as high as she could reach. “Of course not. Too bad the world is run by people who think playing fair is for pussies.”

  I gave Flint a sympathetic look, but I agreed with Dee. Trolls didn’t have much of a social hierarchy or organized government, being naturally solitary. Mediators were the closest thing they had to community leaders. They only came together once or twice a year at the burrow and fights were common since none of them had any real practice at getting along with others. Which made someone who could de-escalate those fights very valuable. For city trolls, forced to live together instead of on the rambling territories they were made for, mediators were even more important. And their philosophy of talking everything out worked really well for solving issues between trolls. But it had only resulted in them getting their shit kicked in when they tried to apply it to relations with the other races.

  “So what happened?” I asked, looking at the chunk of stone again with new discomfort. “How’d the General beat Harald?”

  “Well, for three days he tried to trap Harald in a deal,” Flint went on. “But Harald was old and smart and didn’t fall for it. He knew any deal he accepted would backfire. So he just refused to accept anything. He just kept negotiating. He figured eventually the Fae would have to put the talk on hold and leave for the winter. And when next spring came around, he would plant himself there again and stall them till summer ended. Forever, if he had to. But General Threadfern wasn’t as patient as Harald, and hated Harald for stopping him like this so long. So he went to the nearest human town dressed as a rich merchant. He told the humans he’d made his fortune selling the stone mined from Valkulammi, and that if they beat him at cards, he’d give them three fine hammers and a map that would lead them right to it. The next morning, just as the sun was turning Harald to stone again, he saw the humans coming through the trees, Fae hammers in hand. The humans broke him down into rubble and sold him. They say most of him went to a wall that still stands around the town, which has never fallen no matter how the seasons beat at it.”

  “What’d I tell you about troll stories?” Dee said, shaking her head. “Always a sad ending. Now goblins know how to tell a good story! If it doesn’t end in a bloody revenge murder, the story isn’t done yet.”

  “I mean, there is sort of a happy ending,” Flint said, tusks jutting out as he frowned stubbornly. “Because Harald held the door so long, the elders and children were able to escape. If the Fae had chased them out they never would have found shelter before the sun rose. Young trolls can’t survive turning to stone when they’re that small. Their bodies can’t handle the strain. But because of Harald, the elders were able to tunnel all the way to Salla, where there was another burrow to take them in. He couldn’t save Valkulammi, but he saved his people, and that’s what matters.”

  “It’s a good story,” I said. “Sad as shit. But good. Thanks.”

  “Thank you for listening,” Flint said, still looking at me a bit warily.

  “I’m Evie,” I said, holding my hand out to shake. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but what are you two doing here?”

  Flint shook my hand very carefully, his own hand practically swallowing mine. His skin was cool and had the satiny texture of polished stone.

  “I’m, uh, I’m Flint,” he said. “This is Dee.”

  “That’s Delight of Diamond’s Dazzle, Daughter of Most Infinite Luster and Shine as Uncountable as the Stars, son of Dark Sky Full of Diamonds who dug the Vaults Eternal, of the line of Gemsdeep, first foreman of the Mines Victorious, architect of the Great Aqueduct, hero of the Summer Flood, to you,” Dee interrupted.

  “Pleased to meet you,” I said flatly. I shook her hand too, her tiny claws digging into my palm.

  “We’re here for the ceremony,” Flint explained. “As, uh, as you know, champions.”

  “Oh shit,” I said, momentarily thrown. “Seriously?”

  “You think they’d let us in here if they didn’t have to?” Dee laughed derisively. “We’ve been getting dirty looks all night, it’s fantastic.”

  “You’re the first person who’s talked to us that didn’t assume we were here to clean or something,” Flint added with a grim look. “A few people just told us to leave flat out...”

  “Jokes on them,” Dee said scornfully. “We don’t want to be at this bullshit party either! But we have to take part in the ceremony if we want to be champions, and I’ve worked too damn hard to lose this on a technicality.”

  “The trolls and goblins haven’t been represented in the last four tournaments,” Flint said. “The champions are usually, uh, persuaded to back down before now.”

  “Or straight up killed,” Dee confirmed. “We haven’t seen any assassins yet, but I’m not letting my guard down.”

  “Jeez,” I muttered. “Is that actually allowed?”

  They both gave me a long, weary look.

  “Right. Stupid question.”

  “What about you?” Flint asked. “You’re not a vampire or a Fae. Uh, unless I’m wrong—”

  “No, you’re right,” I said quickly. “I’m just here for a work thing. The sooner this is over, the better.”

  “Well, you’re welcome to hang out with us,” Flint said, stumbling over the words a bit.

  “As long as your work thing isn’t murdering us, anyway,” Dee added.

  “Dee!”

  “What? She’s got an assassin-y look going on.”

  “Anyone who could assassinate people while wearing a dress this big could not be stopped,” I countered. “Like, you’d already be dead. Just saying.”

  “Good point.”

  chapter

 
10

  I FOLLOWED DEE AND FLINT out of the chapel and back towards the main transept. We lingered near one of the arches as Dee pointed out a tall, lean Fae in an outfit that looked more like exercise gear than formal wear. They wore a sleek bodysuit, the silver material hidden under a series of interlocking hard plates in shades of white and pearl pink that seemed to follow the contours of their muscles. Their face was half obscured by a helmet that matched the suit. The rose-colored glass of the faceplate came to a point like a beak over their nose.

  “That’s the Fae champion,” Dee explained. “Summer Court, obviously. It’s probably unfair to the Winter Court that the tournament always happens at midsummer. Anyway, all I know is that they’ve got some crazy magitech. Cutting edge stuff that hasn’t been seen outside the Fae realm before.”

  “They always have cutting edge shit,” I replied. “It hasn’t won them the tournament in, what, 500 years? Unless they figure out how to keep the witches from nullifying it all immediately they’re going to have to change their strategy eventually.”

  “Speaking of which, there’s the witch’s champion.” Dee pointed to an older man who was staring up at the stained glass. His suit was jet black, cuffs to collar, though it otherwise fit the white tie requirements. His sharp black goatee was shot through with white and he carried a slim black cane that I had a feeling could probably serve as a magical focus in a pinch. “Big shot wizard, name of Bart-something.”

  “Rothbart,” Flint provided.

  “Right, Mothfart,” Dee said waving him off. “Apparently they’ve had him locked up at the university since he was a kid training him. Only witch in a generation to score Primary grade in his first evaluation. And apparently the witches are leaning hard core into enchantment for this.”

  “My friend Judith was saying they’re only just figuring enchantment out,” I said thoughtfully. “Like, it was only invented fifty years ago.”

  “Yeah, and it nearly won them the last tournament,” Dee replied. “I’ve seen the video. Their champion that year was clanking around in basically enchanted plate armor, barely able to see what she was doing, and she still took out the wolf champ. Would have taken out the Fae too, but he landed a lucky hit that damaged the spell engraving on her armor. Caused some kind of energy feedback loop. Don’t ask me, I’m not a wizard. Basically cooked her alive.”

  “Jesus.” I recoiled from the mental image. “And they still want to use it?”

  “It’s come a long way in thirty years,” Dee said with a shrug. “And it’s not like it needs to be safe. They just have to make sure that if it blows up it takes out one of the other champions and not their guy.”

  “Fair, I guess...”

  “Oh, look over there. I’ll give you three guesses who that is.”

  She pointed towards the doors, where what I hesitated to call a man was just stepping into the room. He was nearly as tall as Flint and grotesquely muscled to the degree that I wasn’t certain how he was moving. Stiff gray fur grew in sparse patches on the blotchy red skin of his arms and his broad, square face and his eyes were canine yellow. His suit, though well made, could barely contain him.

  “I’m going to say the werewolf champion and hope I’m wrong,” I answered. “Christ, he looks like the end of a PSA about steroid use. He looks like a bad CG monster from video game movie adaptation. He’s like an overwrought caricature of an 80’s action hero.”

  “He looks like he was drawn by an edgy fifteen year old boy,” Dee confirmed.

  “Exactly! Like a Frank Miller comic book protagonist.”

  “Like both his first and last names are Brick.”

  “Like Dolph Lundgren had a baby with an Abrams tank.”

  “Like if the word ‘slab’ were a guy.”

  “How long are you guys going to do that?” Flint asked, trying not to laugh.

  “Wait, one more,” I replied. “Like a disaster at a nuclear powered meat packing plant caused a pile of raw beef to gain sentience and converge into an unholy shambling meat monstrosity.”

  “Aw, that one just makes me feel bad,” Dee replied. “Like he just needs guidance and affection to teach him compassion and humanity and shit.”

  “Poor meat monster,” I agreed, my voice breaking as I fought back giggles. As soon as Dee started snickering I gave up, leaning on the arch beside me for support as we both cracked up.

  “All jokes aside,” Dee said when we could breathe. “That guy is terrifying. The vampires bred him in a lab or something. Apparently he’s the closest thing to an Alpha that’s been seen since the last wolf rebellion.”

  “Wait, the vampires made him?” I asked, confused. “I mean, I was wondering how the hell the wolves managed to find a guy like that, but—”

  “The vampires always sponsor the wolf champion,” Dee said. “For the same reason they build the wolf arena. They’ve ground the mutts down so far they can’t do it on their own. Doing it for them gives them, one, a chance to reassert their control, and two, basically a second entry in the tournament. It’s half the reason they keep winning. The wolf champion spends the whole tournament defending the vampire champion, and then surrenders when there’s no one else left.”

  “They never try to win?”

  “They would never make it to the tournament if the vampires didn’t know they were completely brainwashed. Even if one did try, the vampires probably put some kind of instant kill button in there. I know I would.”

  The huge wolf made his way across the room, the crowd parting naturally ahead of him. I spotted where he was heading after a moment. A woman stood waiting for him near the altar, smiling with flawless red lips as he approached. She had the timeless face of a vampire, skin like marble and long auburn hair, curled elaborately beneath a broad feathered hat. Her dress had the classic ball gown silhouette but clean modern lines, with minimal seams and no lace or patterns or frills. It was a deep, dark royal blue, except for a panel which draped from the small of her back over the bell of the full skirt to trail behind her, which was richly embroidered in the bright jewel tones of a peacock’s tail.

  “I don’t figure I need to introduce her,” Dee said as I stared and I shook my head. Even I recognized the Lady Montefiore when I saw her. Otherside didn’t have a lot of celebrities, but if we had any then she was at the top of the list.

  “This is, what, her fifth tournament as the vampire champion?” I asked, watching her take the arm of the monstrous wolf and steer him towards the orchestra.

  I didn’t care about the previous tournaments any more than I cared about this one, but I had seen videos and heard stories about her previous victories. She wasn’t just strong, she was dazzlingly graceful, blisteringly intelligent. Every other week the gossip blogs on the Othernet published articles about her, usually about her famously tumultuous love life or the endless expeditions she organized hunting down more artifacts for her supposedly enormous private collection of magical relics.

  “You know how much vampires hate change,” Dee replied. “And hey, if it ain’t broke. You know she’s technically an Elder? But she refuses to lead a court. Says it would get in the way of training for the tournament.”

  “She’s incredible,” I said. And yeah, I’ll admit. I was a little star struck. Lady Montefiore was a gorgeous, terrifying woman. I blinked to get my thoughts straight, turning my attention back to Dee and Flint. “And you’re going to fight her.”

  “Don’t remind me,” Flint said uneasily.

  “We can handle her,” Dee said with more confidence than was probably wise. “I’ve got a plan. This is the year shit finally changes.”

  I looked to Flint, trying to judge how full of it Dee was, but Flint stood by her.

  “Don’t underestimate Dee,” he said. “She wasn’t making up all those titles earlier. She really is a genius. The gear she’s making us—”

  Dee kicked Flint in the shin.

  “Surprise is the only advantage we’ve got, my guy,” she sa
id. “Don’t go giving it away. Like I said, I’ve got a plan.”

  “I’ll see it online when you guys compete,” I said, reaching out to snag a fresh glass of champagne from a passing waiter. “I wasn’t even going to watch, but now I’ve met you and shit I feel like I kind of have to cheer you on.”

  “Hell yeah you do,” Dee said with a loud laugh. “Forget TV, you better be in the stands!”

  I started to say I wouldn’t be able to afford seats in the arena, but hell if this job worked out I probably could. At least for all but the finale. No amount of money would ever make them let me or any other changeling into the Fae realm where the last round of the tournament was traditionally held.

  “Fair warning,” Dee added. “You’re going to be sitting with every troll and goblin in the city. I’m getting free tickets for every sewer dwelling son of a bitch I can.”

  “Are we allowed to do that?” Flint asked.

  “If they won’t even comp you free tickets,” I replied. “Then what’s even the point of being a champion?”

  “Evie?”

  I looked up as someone said my name in time to see Detective Ryan notice Flint and Dee standing next to me. He’d had a hand up to wave, a smile on his face, both of which dropped slowly, clearly confused.

  “Detective,” I replied, raising my glass in greeting, trying not to look like I was cursing internally. “How’s it going?”

  “Fine,” he said, still looking at Flint. “Did you find your fella, Lord Whats-his-cape?”

  “Nah, he hasn’t show up yet. Car trouble. I found these guys instead,” I said, gesturing to my new friends and quickly moving the topic away from my alibi.

  “This is Delight of Diamond’s Dazzle of the line of Gemsdeep, architect of the Great Aqueduct and hero of the Summer Flood,” I said, indicating Dee. Goblins were very proud of their titles. Messing them up was unbelievably rude, and so was introducing someone without them. I’d made an effort to remember at least the main ones, which she seemed to appreciate judging by her grin. “And this is Flint.”