by Maribel Fox
But it’s not real. It can’t be. In a hundred years there’s never been another inmate, and with the mystery men in my happy place…
Fuck. I’ve done it. I’ve finally cracked.
I thought I had a better handle on this. That’s just what people with tenuous holds on reality tell themselves, though, isn’t it?
“Son of a bitch!” I roar, slamming my fist on the wall. “Get out of my fucking head! All of you!”
7
Iseul
The wolf snarls at me when I tell him to wait his turn, but then he backs off, his eyes going unfocused, the scowl never leaving his ruggedly, roguishly handsome face.
Man, this town sure does have some good-looking people.
From the back — towards the kitchen, I assume — a tall, dark-skinned man with a bald head and the stink of Heaven on him comes out, looking cross.
“Is there some sort of disturbance out here, Rue?” he asks, eyes sharp as he takes in the wolf who seems to be back among the living for the moment after that brief moment of absence in his eyes.
“No, it’s—”
“I must see the Court,” the Russian says, frown deepening. “Is matter of life and death.”
“Uh, same here, buddy,” I chime in. “And like I said, I’m first in line.”
“You are not my buddy,” he says gruffly, one hand on the bar like he’s supporting himself even though he’s putting on a tough act. I know all about letting people see what you want them to see.
“First in line?” the man beside Rue asks, eyebrow cocked.
“Yeah, I told the guy at the front desk…” I say with a casual shrug. No need to point out that he never actually confirmed whether or not he was going to get me an audience with the Court of not.
And my little line about it being life or death isn’t completely true. Or it might be. Who knows. I don’t know for sure what’s going to happen on my birthday, but I’m pretty damn sure something is going to happen, and I figure it’s only polite to warn my hosts that I might turn into a bloodthirsty demon with a taste for human flesh.
“Did you know about this?” the guy asks Rue. She shrugs.
“Haven’t seen Raj in a couple hours, so there hasn’t been a chance for him to tell me. I’m not exactly in the Court anyway,” she adds, an extra flair for the term, though I don’t know why. There’s a lot that’s unusual about this town and this Court.
Maybe being a little rusty on protocol won’t be such a hindrance.
A guy can hope.
“Both of you wait here. I will see what I can do to address this,” the man says stiffly, before removing his stained apron and leaving around the bar.
The wolf’s as dismayed by this development as I am — I’d like some acknowledgment that I had dibs, damn it — and Rue’s on it in a flash.
“Want a drink while you wait?” she asks.
“Nyet,” he grumbles, crossing his arms, leaning against the bar with his eyes constantly locked on the door that guy just left through.
He’s tense, and too alert. He’s bringing down my vibe.
“You suuuure?” Rue asks, her voice teasing and fun. I think I like this girl. We might be good friends if I don’t decide she looks like a good meal after my birthday. “We’ve got… vodka?” she tries.
The wolf grunts. “You think because I am Russian I like vodka?” he asks, sounding offended.
Rue frowns. “Do you not?”
“Come on man, cut the girl some slack,” I chime in, coming to Rue’s defense. “She just trying to do her job. Besides, the local Court runs this joint. You think loitering around not making a purchase is going to win you any points?”
“What are these points you speak of?” he asks, eyes narrowing at me, a growl coming from his throat as he leans in closer. I’m not going to let him intimidate me though. Come on. I was probably eight hundred when this guy was born. Like he’s a threat to me.
“They’re not real points, it’s like… making them like you?”
He sneers, clearly thinking it over before he turns and huffs as he takes a seat on the nearest barstool.
“Fine. I will have drink,” he grumbles.
Rue looks at him, the question silent but obvious.
“Vodka,” he says reluctantly. Rue tries not to chuckle, I’m sure of it, but she doesn’t do a very good job.
“What do you need to speak to the Court about?” Ku asks, reminding me he’s there, his presence eerily quiet like a statue or something. I’m thinking about how best to dodge the question without losing face when I’m saved by the doors bursting open again, this time with a much smaller person.
A child?
“You frequently serve children in your bar?” I ask, half teasing, half taken aback.
“Just the one,” Rue answers with a big grin.
“Hi,” the kid says, stopping in front of the two of us, heaving a heavy breath like he ran here and is trying to hide that fact from everyone else. “I’m s’posed to take you to the Court,” he says, adding to the confusion.
I bite back a grin. “You are, are you?”
“Yep. Come on,” he says, waving us after him.
Unconventional indeed.
The wolf knocks back the vodka Rue poured for him while the kid was talking, and he waits for someone to tell him not to before he follows the kid without protest.
Shit. I’m not letting him get an audience first. I scamper off after them quickly, and stagger through the doorway, hit by a massive headache. It’s not the first I’ve had lately — I figure it’s part of this awesome birthday that’s coming up — but it is possibly the worst of them.
I actually stop, hand out on the wall for support, eyes shut, wincing in pain, the world swimming, my legs wobbling. Then I’m somewhere else, a room of fire and pain, flames over my head, taller than trees. I try to get away from them, and find a clearing, a picnic table with a beautiful woman standing there.
She sees me too, her mouth dropping open, eyes widening before they narrow in scrutiny.
“You’re not the same guy,” she says.
“How did you get here? Who are you?”
I don’t know how to answer her, and I have the very same questions and some of my own. For instance, where is ‘here’?
But she’s too beautiful for me to articulate any of that. All I can manage is walking toward her, hand outstretched, the need to touch her burning through me. Her face, otherwise exquisite, is lined with the evidence of great pain and suffering, and I’m dying to know her story.
Before I can touch her, there’s another jolt of pain, and I’m ripped back to the B&B, the young boy shaking my arm with a concerned look.
“What’s wrong with you?” he asks, equal parts worried and apprehensive. The kind of look you might give someone when you’ve realized they need to be quarantined with some horrible disease that will likely kill them.
Smart kid, I guess.
The wolf is looking at me like I’m nuts, like he didn’t disappear to Lala Land back in the bar for whatever reason.
Whatever. Neither of them needs to know about the gorgeous woman or the trouble I think she might be in. I’m not even sure what that’s all about, and I kind of have my own things to deal with.
“Nothing… I just thought I saw…” I reach behind the kid and pluck a card from behind his ear, handing it to him. “That explains it!” I joke, cracking a smile despite the throbbing ache still radiating through my skull.
The kid looks at the card, looks at me, is completely unimpressed, and continues onward without a word.
What does it take to get on peoples’ good side around here?
Maybe magic tricks won’t impress the people living in the realm of a Faerie Queen, but I’m sure to find something. I’m not giving up just yet.
8
Dima
The child takes us to another room where the fae court — is that still what they are called when they are so mixed? — is waiting for us. It is a living room, wit
h a fireplace on one side, a fire already roaring within.
Directly in front of the fireplace, there’s a chair, and in it, a woman — the queen, most likely. There is a man on either side of her, both angels — one the bald man from the bar — wings tucked behind them in a show of force.
Another — the only fae in the court beside the queen — is on the couch opposite the queen’s chair, seemingly asleep. The fourth, a devil I’m sure, is off to the side, arms crossed, watching carefully.
“Thank you, Ian,” the woman says, nodding at the boy. He jogs off to the side, grinning. Surprising they let him be here.
“You requested an audience?” she asks, looking at us. The fox steps forward first.
“Your Highness—”
“Ava,” she interjects.
He preens.
“Queen Ava—” She looks uncomfortable at his use of her title, trying to hide it, but her lips frown, her hips shift like she wants to leave. “My name is Iseul, and I wish to thank you for your gracious hospitality. I’ve heard great tell of the wonders of Lupine Bay, and I must say that seeing it for myself, the rumors haven’t done it justice.”
“Rumors?” Ava asks.
“I apologize for not paying my homage to you sooner, but I hope you’ll accept this gift as a token of my sincere regret and gratitude,” the fox says, dipping into a low bow as he offers the queen some shiny trinket. It looks expensive. Possibly magical. How should I know?
Ava’s not certain about taking it, I can tell, and I’m waiting for the fox to add something, for his ‘life or death’ situation to come up, but he simply waits for the queen to take his gift.
“The queen thanks you for your tribute and welcomes you into her realm provided you cause no trouble,” the devil says, stepping up to accept the bribe with a stiff nod.
“If I may take my leave, Your Majesty?” the fox asks, looking from the devil to Ava.
“Uh… Yeah… I mean, yes, of course,” she says, frowning, her toes tapping on the rug.
I can’t stop myself as he’s walking by on his way out of the room.
“That is your life and death situation?”
The fox fixes his amber eyes on me and gives me a slow, sly smile.
“I prefer to discuss my private matters in private,” he says. “Say what you need to and I’ll come back later.”
I bite back a growl, hands clenching to fists. He had to shove past me to give her a gift? This suka blya—
“Why do you seek an audience with my court?” Ava asks me, distracting me from the pleasant thoughts of ripping the fox’s head off.
The fox leaves, waving his fingers at me with another sly grin. I roll my eyes, but decide I don’t give any shits. He is not my problem. I have a problem of my own.
“I am cursed,” I say, turning back to Ava.
“She can’t heal your werewolfism,” the devil says quickly.
“You sure dude? She brought me back from the dead and fixed my wings—”
“Neither of which are public knowledge, Kushiel,” the devil hisses at the blond angel.
“Also, you are a member of her court,” the other angel adds.
“That is not curse I am talking about,” I tell them. “A witch cursed me to be forever joined to a mudak I hate. His idiocy is… very big. He ran off looking for woman ‘calling to him,’ whatever that means. I tried following him, but all I found was old well that stinks of demon. He tells me he is in Hell, and I have to get close to him — within a couple hundred meters — or we will both die slow, painful deaths.”
“How slow?” one of the angels asks.
“The longest we have gone is two weeks, and that was…” I shake my head, frowning. That was too close.
“’Ell of a curse you got yerself there, mate,” the sleeping fae says, sitting up. I’m sure he was never sleeping. Tricky fae.
“We hoped the queen could remove it—”
“Then he went and got himself in trouble?” the bald angel asks.
“Da. Have you met him?”
He gives me a small smile, but it isn’t much. They all look worried. More than I expected.
“Ava, what’s going on?” the boy asks, sensing the shift of mood.
The queen frowns, her lips tight with worry. “Ian—”
“I know, I know… Go somewhere else,” he sighs, shoulders slumping forward as he trudges from the room.
The court gathers in a tight circle to confer, but I can hear them. I’m a werewolf. If they want to stop me, they should try harder.
“…must have kidnapped him through the portal—”
“Did you know this could happen?”
“Demon kidnappings are gonna make for some sketchy online reviews…”
There are five of them, and multiple conversations happening at once, so even though I can hear everything, I don’t follow it all. Their accents make it difficult, too, and then when they start arguing, more emotion slipping into the discussion, there’s no point in me trying anymore.
Finally, they break apart, the devil looking somewhat guilty, the queen looking mildly furious, though worried — actually, they all look worried. The devil steps forward.
“So to be clear — are you hoping we can help with breaking the curse, or do you want help getting into Hell?” he asks.
I frown, pausing a moment to think. If they got rid of the curse, it would be easy to go my own way, leave that mudak in Hell where he probably belongs...
Nyet, I can’t abandon the stupid pup. No matter how much I know it’s the smart thing to do.
“If you could remove the curse—”
“We are not confident it could be done in two weeks,” the devil says quickly.
“Da, I thought you might say that. We would take help after, but now, I think my only option is to chase his worthless tail into Hell,” I say.
“I can take you to the well, give you a couple anchors, and open the portal for you, but I can’t go with you to help. I’m… persona non grata in Hell at the moment. Kind of a traitor and stuff,” he says, laughing nervously. “But I can get you in. After that, you’re on your own.”
“Spasiba, thank you.”
“Catch,” the fae calls, tossing a small rock my way.
I catch it on instinct, the smooth stone cold in my palm. It’s shaped like a triangle with a hole through the middle, the whole thing polished to a glossy shine. I raise an eyebrow, fighting a smirk. Is this a joke?
“Adder stone? Will I need to protect chickens?”
“’S’not their only purpose,” he says with a twinkle in his eyes. I’m not sure I should accept a gift from him. “Wear it on your person for protection. If ye need to see the truth of a thing, look at it through the hole,” he adds, nodding at it again.
I suppose I should be thankful. They all seem to be concerned that this is my death. Maybe it is. It’s overdue.
But if I don’t go, it’s certainly my death. That mudak dragon isn’t going to get himself out of prison.
“Actually, that’s a good point, Seamus,” the devil says, holding up a thoughtful finger. “Come with me.” He waves for me to follow, and with no better choices, I do. He takes me back to the bar — The Shamrock — and heads behind the counter.
“When you’re in Hell, be sure to check any food you eat with the stone before you eat it. I’m going to pack you up some rations, though. Avoid eating anything down there if you can.”
It’s not encouraging for what I’m going to find, but I nod. He’s still giving me a strange tight-lipped look, and I want to tell him he shouldn’t be so concerned for my life.
I’m not.
It’s the dragon that wants to live, I’m just trying to help.
“Be right back,” the devil says, darting back into the kitchen. The boy and the fox are both here, and the fox is trying to impress Rue and the boy with juggling. They are amused with his antics, but only because he’s trying to impress them and it’s not working. I try not to pay any attention — I don�
��t want him to think I’m inviting conversation — but it doesn’t seem to matter.
Iseul catches all his juggling balls and makes them disappear. “How’d your meeting go, pup?”
I bristle and growl, but ultimately, it’s not worth it.
“Seems I’m chasing dumb dragon into bowels of Hell,” I say, no need for secrets. Unlike some.
“Really? Why ever for?” he asks, genuinely surprised.
“What choice do I have? The mudak went running after some ‘bella dama’ — a damn nightmare — and is in Hellish gulag now.”
“A nightmare?” he asks, looking more interested while he toys with cards.
“Da. He dreams of her, her screams — I feel the pain sometimes…” I shake my head. The dragon’s crazy, that’s what his problem is.
Only it’s my problem too.
Damned curse.
“Okay, I packed you up enough food for a few days, and some extra stuff that might come in handy. You ready to go?” the devil asks, returning from the kitchen, holding out a canvas bag for me.
“Da,” I answer with a firm nod, nodding again to the fox, then to Rue, to the boy, and the quiet man at the bar.
“Good luck, man,” the fox says, grinning ear to ear.
I take the bag from the devil, holding it close, eying the fox suspiciously as I follow the other man out. A wish of luck from a fox seems… dangerous. Just what I need. More trouble.
9
Maal
I’ve been at this fancy new job for almost a week, and still it doesn’t seem any different than my old job. I get to work every day — the guard still gives me shit, even though he clearly sees my Seal of Solomon necklace that marks me as a higher-ranking guard than him — and then I take up post outside a door that I don’t ever have any reason to go inside the first few days.
Of course, curiosity gets the better of me, and when I’m all alone, my fifth day on the job, I sneak back through that door.
It’s a hallway of cells, like a lot of others I’ve seen, only these are all empty.
