by M. D. Massey
I rolled my shoulders out and cracked my neck. “I could tell you, but you wouldn’t believe me. So, I’d rather just show you.”
Remy snorted and took a short step back. “Be my guest.”
I sheathed my sword and holstered my pistol. Then I removed my gun belt and scabbard, dropping them to the ground. Next, I removed my Craneskin Bag and set it on the ground as well. Then I stood, looking Remy in the eye as I ignored the snickers from the peanut gallery around us.
I shifted, instantly transforming into my half-Fomorian form. Since my battle with Claw’s brothers, I’d been practicing a lot and had gained much better control over my ability to change. Lately, I’d managed to shift into something closer to my full Hyde-side persona. The clothing I was wearing stretched at the seams as I gained a foot in height and at least seventy-five pounds of mass. My skin thickened, bones rearranged and hardened, and my teeth and nails lengthened to jagged points.
Shifting allowed me to access the power of Balor’s Eye as well, although it still hurt like a motherfucker to use the Eye’s powers. Despite the discomfort, I allowed a trickle of the Eye’s power to seep out of my eye sockets, just enough to set my eyes glowing a fiery crimson red. If there was one thing every vampire was afraid of, it was fire; so I assumed that magical laser heat vision would rank pretty high on their “oh hell no” list.
Remy’s eyes narrowed. “So, it is true. I’d heard the rumors, but I didn’t believe them.” He rubbed his chin with a thumb and forefinger, then snapped his fingers. Immediately, the vampire coven dispersed.
Once they were gone, he stepped close to me and spoke. “Still, I cannot allow this trespass to go unanswered. You’ve left me in a precarious position, druid.”
I cleared my throat, a low rumble that sounded like a growl in this form. “Tell your people that I owe you a favor, one you can call in at your discretion.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Will you honor this arrangement at some future date?”
“I will, so long as your request does not require me to violate my own morals.”
Remy flashed a wicked grin. “It’s settled. You may go, and take the fae with you. But be advised: if you betray me, I won’t go after you. It’ll be your loved ones who pay the price.”
He was gone in a blur. “Fucking vampires,” I muttered. I turned to Claw, my eyes glowing enough to illuminate the alley. “Claw… I believe you and I have some business to discuss.”
2
After slapping some cold-forged iron cuffs on him, I took Claw to an abandoned warehouse and proceeded to interrogate him. Although “interrogation” was probably too strong a word, since he started blabbering as soon as we hit the door to the warehouse. Apparently, he’d been hiding out in New Orleans due to a deal that the Rye Mother was supposed to have had with Remy. So, once Remy turned him over to me, he figured his only chance would be to cooperate with me.
Claw spilled his guts to me about the Rye Mother’s operations, as well as her current whereabouts. According to Claw, she had cells of her offspring embedded in major cities all over the United States. In each city, she had a group of feldgeisters—her children—either operating in the open or posing as members of the local ruling faction.
Fae were notorious for being masters of illusory magic. This included the use of glamours, see-me-not spells, and other mystical tricks that could be used for disguises and subterfuge. With the right spells, the fae could pose as virtually any supernatural creature or human—just as Claw and his brothers had done when they’d infiltrated the Austin werewolf pack.
“You’re telling me the Rye Mother has crews in every major city in the US that are trafficking children just like you lowlifes were?”
Claw hung his head and nodded. I’d made him change back into his humanoid form, which unfortunately meant that he was naked. I hadn’t let him return to his hideout to get dressed, since I was worried he might trigger some sort of panic spell or charm. Right now, he was sitting on a stack of wooden pallets wrapped in an old tarp, shivering in the cool fall air. He looked kind of pathetic, but I couldn’t dredge up a speck of pity for him.
It’s not just that I wanted him to feel uncomfortable; my paranoia was quite justified. You never knew what the fae might pull on you. He might’ve been hiding a spell to let the Rye Mother know he’d been captured, or an invisibility charm to allow him to escape—or even a summoning spell that would call up another fae creature to fight on his behalf. After all the trouble I’d gone through to track him down, there was no way I’d allow him the slightest opportunity to escape.
Besides, I was gonna kill him anyway.
Claw wiped his nose with grubby fingers and sighed. “I know this is the end for me, druid. I’m willing to tell you everything if you promise to make it quick. I’m tired of running and hiding and having to look over my shoulder all the time. I just want it to be done.”
“I bet you wish you would’ve killed me back in the mine when you had the chance.”
He shrugged, pulling the tarp tighter around him. “It wasn’t in the plan. Sonny was dead set on destroying Samson, and that meant making him think you killed his daughter. If it had been up to me, I’d have ripped your throat out right there. Can’t change the past, though. No sense thinking about it now.”
I tapped the barrel of my pistol on my knee. “Tell me what you know, and I promise you won’t suffer like Rupert did.”
I’d purposely mentioned Rupert, because I knew it’d scare the shit out of Claw. Rupert had been in charge of the place where they’d been keeping the abducted kids. Many of those children had been raped and horribly tormented while they waited to be sold or transported to Underhill.
When I’d seen what had been done to those kids, I’d tortured Rupert until he was a bloody, unrecognizable mess. Not for information—but just because he deserved it. After I’d carved him into hamburger meat, Maeve had sent Rupert back to the Rye Mother via portal.
I’d intended him to be a message that said, “I’m coming for you.”
Considering what he’d done to the children we rescued, what I’d done to Rupert had been way too lenient. I’d killed Claw’s brethren too, because they’d either abducted kids or hired others to do it for them. I’d also tracked down every human who had worked for Sonny, whether they had actually kidnapped any kids or not.
They had all suffered the same fate. Every last one.
Claw chewed on his lip until it bled, and I sat in silence watching the blood trickle down his chin. Being on the run all these weeks had obviously taken a toll on him, and he was starting to crack. I needed to play it cool, so I could get all the info I could while he still had his wits about him. If I played it too hard, he might do something stupid and force me to kill him prematurely.
The feldgeister’s eyes were wild and frightened. I tossed him a bottle of water. He drank it greedily, gasping after downing half the bottle. He nodded once. “I’ll tell you everything.”
Claw spoke for the better part of forty-five minutes, and I only had to interrupt him a few times in order to get him to clarify the odd detail on the Rye Mother’s operations. He gave me everything—names, locations, timetables, the works. I recorded everything on my phone as he spoke. Later, I’d transcribe it into notes and share that info with faction leaders in every city where the Rye Mother operated.
But, according to Claw, it wouldn’t do much good.
“She’s gone back to Underhill, where she thinks that you can’t get to her—and she’s taken all the kids she has with her. She’s powerful, but she’s also afraid of you. She figures she’ll head back to the Underrealms for a few decades and wait for you to get killed or die of old age. Fifty years is a blink of an eye to her. After you’re gone, she’ll be back and running things just like she always has, supplying children to the unseelie fae in Underhill.”
I scratched the back of my head with my pistol. “Well, that’s where she’s wrong. There’s no place she can go that I won’t follow. We have business, sh
e and I—business that’s unsettled. And I plan to square up with her long before my days on this earth are done.”
He looked at me like I was crazy, then threw his head back and howled. “Wow, druid, I gotta hand it to you—you sure got some balls. I’m not even gonna bother asking if you’re serious about going to Underhill. You won’t last five minutes there—but hell, I gotta admire your willingness to kill yourself over a bunch of throwaway kids.”
I tapped my index finger on the slide of my pistol. “See there, Claw? That’s why you fae will never figure us humans out. It’s because you lack empathy and a sense of justice. We humans—some of us would walk a mile barefoot over broken glass to get justice for the innocent. And if that’s what it takes to see the Rye Mother go down, well… then that’s what I’ll do.”
He cackled and cut his laugh off short. Then he fixed me with a crazed look, but his expression was deadly serious. “There are powerful fae in Underhill who want to see you dead. Some are the Rye Mother’s clients. Others lost family members in that raid you staged on the warehouse. I’ll bet they’re already sending people to track you down and end you.”
I cleared my throat as I stood and leveled the gun at Claw’s face. “Thanks for the warning. Say hi to your brothers for me when you greet them in hell.”
A few dollars’ worth of spent ammunition was a fate too kind for Claw, but a deal was a deal. I gathered up the empty shells as I considered what to do with the body. I needed to get rid of the evidence, but I also knew that the New Orleans vampire coven would have people keeping an eye on me.
I decided to leave them a message.
I cut Claw’s head cleanly from his shoulders with my longsword, and set it off to the side. Then I stripped down to my Jockeys and shifted. I leapt into the air, grabbing onto one of the rafters above me with Claw’s noggin tucked under my other arm. I climbed to the highest point I could reach and pinned the severed head to a roof support beam with a spare dagger I had in my Craneskin Bag.
I wiped the dagger clean of prints, then dropped to the floor of the warehouse. I called upon the power of Balor’s Eye and burned the rest of Claw’s remains to ashes. Of course, this screwed up my vision considerably. Even with all the practice I’d had the past few weeks shifting, I still couldn’t channel the full power of the Eye without sustaining optical damage.
When I’d shifted into my full Fomorian form in the past, channeling the Eye’s powers had done zero damage to my eyesight. But back then, I’d been a raging lunatic when I’d completely given myself over to my Hyde-side—and had only been able to shift into that form under extreme, life-threatening duress. Since learning to trigger my shifting abilities at will, I’d yet to gain complete control over my transformation.
So, before I could leave, I had to wait for my eyes to heal.
The Eye spoke to me telepathically while I waited for my Fomorian healing powers to repair the damage done to my eyes. This was the only time I could communicate with it—when I was in my half-Fomorian form—and it rarely missed an opportunity to converse with me.
-You know, I could replace one of your eyes permanently, and then you wouldn’t have to deal with this every time you used my powers.-
“We’ve already discussed this at length, Eye. I am not going to walk around with a huge red gemstone in one of my eye sockets, and I’m not wearing an eye patch, either. I’m way too pale and ginger to pull that look off. Uh-uh, end of discussion, case closed.”
Chastised, the Eye decided to change the subject.
-If you intend to enter Underhill in your pursuit of the Rye Mother, it would be wise to wait until you have complete control of your ability to shift into your Fomorian form. Doing so would allow you full access to my powers, and without damaging your eyesight—increasing your chances of survival considerably.-
“I realize that would be the prudent thing to do, but the longer I wait, the longer she’ll have to prepare for my arrival. Or, to send her flunkies to try and take me out. And besides that, you heard what Claw said about all those kids. She could have hundreds of them with her, trapped in Underhill. I hate to think what’s been happening to those kids while I’ve been chasing my tail here on earth.”
-She’ll have access to the fullest extent of her powers while in Underhill. If you don’t have complete control of your Fomorian form by the time you face her, the likelihood of your survival is remote at best.-
“You were with Balor when he fought the Tuatha Dé Danann. Surely you must know what their weaknesses are, and what they fear.”
-Most certainly; they fear me. They would also fear anyone who could wield my powers. And, for that reason, they would fear the return of the Fomorians to this realm or their own.-
I closed my eyes and resisted the urge to scratch my eyelids. They always itched like mad while they were healing. But it beat the searing pain that I felt every time I fried my eyeballs by channeling the Eye’s power.
“If that’s the case, then why the hell would Fuamnach have cursed me with the ríastrad? I gotta tell you, Eye, I just don’t get it.”
-Are you certain she cursed you? Could there be another explanation for your ability to shift into this other, non-human form?-
That question threw me for a loop. “To be honest, I never considered an alternative. Finnegas told me it was Fuamnach’s magic that caused me to become what I am. Sure, I still blame him for what happened to Jesse and me, but I have no reason to doubt that he told me the truth.”
-I understand. He is your teacher, after all. But you would do well to remember that Finnegas the Seer has spent a considerable time amongst the fae. It stands to reason that, over the centuries, dissembling would have become second nature to him.-
The Eye made a very valid point. I considered whether there was another layer of deception in what Finnegas had told me regarding my ríastrad—the initial onset of which had caused my girlfriend Jesse’s death. Even if that were true, there was no sense worrying about it now.
“If that turns out to be the case, then I’ll deal with it when the time comes. For now, I need to stay focused on finding the Rye Mother.”
-And then?-
“Then I get justice for all the children she’s hurt over the centuries. And I intend to take my time doing it.”
-You do realize you’ll have to go through Maeve to get to Underhill.-
Maeve was queen of the Austin fae—and supposedly my great-grandmother, many times removed. “Since we’re family and all, maybe she’ll just let me through out of the kindness of her ancient, withered little heart.”
-Doubtful. Rest assured, the price she demands will be steep.-
“It always is with her, Eye. It always is.”
On my way back to Austin, I made a few phone calls. First, I called my girlfriend to let her know that I was okay and to give her the skinny on how things had turned out. Belladonna worked for the Cold Iron Circle, so she was clued in on the world beneath. Still, there was no way was I going to tell her that I planned to head to Underhill, because she’d insist on tagging along. And that just was not going to happen.
Time flowed differently between the fae’s realm and ours. I had a funny feeling that my Fomorian curse and fae heritage would allow me to cross back and forth with little if any ill effect. On the other hand, a normal human might travel to Underhill and then age decades upon their return to earth. That begged the question as to what ill effects the children I brought back would suffer; I’d have to discuss that with Maeve before bringing the abducted kids back from Underhill.
But as far as letting Belladonna risk her life by crossing back and forth between our realm and theirs, that was a definite no-go. I’d lost Jesse due to my dealings with the fae and their magic. No way was I going to lose Bells because of those fuckers too.
Belladonna’s voicemail said she was at work. So, I left her a vague message and hoped I wouldn’t pay for it later. Then I checked in with Hemi to make sure he was doing okay. He’d taken the whole thing with th
e kids at the warehouse damned hard, but since he’d volunteered to be a “big brother” to a couple of those children, he seemed to be doing better.
Still, it didn’t hurt keep tabs on the guy. He wore his heart on his sleeve, and it made me worry that our friendship would have a negative effect on him over the long term. Sure, Hemi was no stranger to the world beneath. But I had a feeling he’d been relatively sheltered back in his native New Zealand. He was a big boy and he could make his own decisions, but if I had to end our friendship to save his tender soul, I do it in a heartbeat.
After that, I left another message for my half-fae friend, Sabine. It was one of dozens I’d left for her since I’d started dating Belladonna. Sabine felt that I’d strung her along—and in some ways, she was right. Still, I’d thought our friendship would be strong enough to weather something like this, and it hurt that she was giving me the cold shoulder.
Once I’d made that futile effort, it was time to take care of business. So, I called Luther and told him I needed to meet with him when I got back to town. His coffee shop was the first stop I made after I hit Austin city limits.
Luther had become a confidant and sort of surrogate mentor during those aimless months I’d experienced after Jesse’s death. We had become friends after I’d threatened to kill him, or something to that effect. I’d ended up working for him instead, and the rest was history. I’d since learned to rely on his input and wisdom, and I needed it now more than ever.
It was late when I walked through the back door of Luther’s café. He noticed me immediately and signaled that he needed a minute before we could chat. I must’ve looked like hell, because he slapped a tall, steaming hot mochaccino on the counter with my name on it. I grabbed the drink with a smile and a wave, and sat down in a corner of the café.
That’s when I saw Sabine. She was sitting in the opposite corner, hidden safely within the weaves of her glamour and a powerful see-me-not slash look-away-go-away spell. In her current state, she was invisible to anyone but the most talented magic users.
