by N. P. Martin
"Iliphar Gwilithon."
My jaw dropped. "Are you sure?"
"Davey said he’s certain. Who is this person?"
"Iolas’ personal assistant."
"Davey must be right then."
I lapsed into silence as I thought about Iliphar and his outwardly civilized and generally benevolent manner. This whole time, it was fucking him, I thought. Obviously, he was acting on his bosses’ orders, but that made no difference to me. He was still going to pay for what he did.
"I’m going to go," I said standing up. "You need a lift?"
Dalia looked over to the other Demifay in the pub. "You go on," she said. "I’ll be fine."
"I’m sure you will. I’ll call you later."
When I got back to the bookshop, I was surprised to see Amelia’s black Dodge parked outside. As I pulled the Spitfire up behind her, she got out and walked over to me, wearing black trousers and a sleeveless white top that showed of her perfectly toned arms and midriff.
"Nice car," she said. "Is it yours?"
"It was me ma’s," I said, still seething at her over what happened despite myself. I got out and leaned against the car with my arms folded. "What are you doing here, Amelia?"
She looked away for a second, clearly uncomfortable with the situation. "I came to let you know that I had nothing to do with what happened earlier."
"Nothing to do with it? You stood and watched Iolas kill that poor guy."
She nodded slightly, and then sighed. "Iolas insisted I be there."
"And you obeyed his command like a good little doggy, right?"
Her face flushed with barely concealed anger. "Screw you."
As she walked away, I sighed and shook my head. As tempting as it was just to be done with her, I still needed her help in getting the book from Iolas. Plus, despite everything, I couldn’t help still liking her. "I’m sorry," I called after her. "I shouldn’t have said that."
Amelia stopped by her car for a moment before turning around. "You’re right, though. I just do what I’m told."
I walked up to her. "Then maybe that has to change," I said. "Why don’t you come inside. There’s things I’d like to discuss with you."
She frowned. "What things?"
"Things that will effect the rest of your life, Amelia."
23
As Amelia walked around the shop inspecting all the books on display, I went about pouring us both drinks, placing hers on the desk counter as I sat behind it. "This shop is impressive," she said as she handled one of the older first editions on display. "You don’t see titles like these around much. Have you read many of them?"
"Quite a few," I said as I looked upon her slender form. "I don’t get much time to read these days. Too busy with other things, like finding out who killed me ma."
She gave me a look and then replaced the book carefully back on the shelf, before coming over and sitting opposite me in the other chair. "I guess we both know it wasn’t Arthur Cartwright."
I shook my head at her. "Don’t you feel bad about that? That man’s screams will haunt me for the rest of my life."
"Of course I do." She picked up her glass, but didn’t drink from it, instead cradling it in both hands. "Do you think I’m some sort of uncaring sociopath?"
"It seems to run in the family."
"Fuck you. Is this why you asked me in here, to denigrate me and my family background?"
"Not you, no," I said. "But your family, yes. Certain members of it anyway."
"Like Iolas, you mean."
Just the mention of his name caused me to tense up. "Yes, Iolas. I know he had me ma killed, Amelia, and I know who he had do it as well."
"Who?" she asked.
"His faithful servant, Iliphar."
Amelia stared at me and then looked away, lapsing into silence for a long time. I knew she knew I wasn’t lying, and on some level, I must have confirmed her own suspicions, so I sat back and let her process for a few moments. "How did you find this out?" she said eventually.
"A Council rep told me."
"The Council know?"
"Are you saying you didn’t?"
"Ask me that again and I won’t be responsible for what I do."
"Come on, Amelia. You must have at least suspected."
"Suspecting and knowing are two different things."
I nodded. "Well, have you ever suspected that maybe your uncle lied to you about what happened to your parents?"
Her stare was intense. "What?"
"I can see from your eyes that’s a yes."
She looked away as she downed her whiskey in one. "Why are you bringing this up?"
"Because your uncle is a psychopath who needs to be stopped, that’s why." I paused. "And because I know he lied to you about your parents, but then, you probably already knew that, didn’t you?"
She looked away again, this time biting her lip as if to try and contain her emotions. For a long time she said nothing, before turning to me again with tears in her eyes, which for an elf, said a lot. It was clearly a painful wound that had never fully healed. "I was just a kid. I was traumatized, and Iolas…he was the only one who would take me. None of my other extended family wanted to know."
"When did you suspect something was up?" I asked her, gently this time.
She put her glass on the table for me to refill. "A few years after, when I did some checking."
"And found no record of any plane crash." I slid her refilled glass back over to her.
"Yes."
"Did you confront Iolas about it?"
"I tried to." Her eyes went distant, as if she was reliving the memory. "He was furious, and denied everything. Then he locked me in his dungeon for a month as punishment."
I shook my head in disgust. "Bastard. Do you know why he would kill your parents, his own brother or sister?"
"Brother, and no, I don’t know why he would. He made it clear, though, that if I ever questioned his motives again, he would exile me from the country, and I would be denounced by my elven brethren. I would end up completely alone."
"But you ended up alone anyway."
She looked away. "You must think me weak."
I almost laughed. "You’re as far from weak as it’s possible to get, Amelia. You’ve just been controlled by someone more powerful than yourself. It happens all the time."
"I should’ve killed him by now, for the things he has done."
"Not being a killer doesn’t make you weak. It just makes you not like him."
She looked at me a moment, unconvinced. "I should’ve done something."
"You can do something now."
"Like what?"
"You can help me take Iolas down. The Council is going to help as well. They’ve had enough of his despotism. They’re planning on moving on him."
"Why haven’t they yet?"
"They’re afraid to, in case he escapes with his book of death magic. They want the book secured first."
"A book of death magic?"
"You didn’t know about it?"
She shook her head. "Not really, but then Iolas has a lot of powerful items in his possession, so I’m not surprised."
"Do you know where he keeps them all?"
"At the house, in a sealed room."
"Do you have access?"
"Only Iolas does. Only his magic can open the door."
"Fuck," I said shaking my head. "And there’s no other way into the room? Even via magic?"
"Iolas’ prized possessions are in that room. Every inch is warded by his magic. Are you really going to try and steal from him?"
"We are, yes."
"We?" She shook her head as if the idea was madness. "He’ll kill us both."
"Then we won’t let him."
"You don’t know him…he’s…"
"Look," I said, leaning across the table. "I understand your afraid of him. So am I, for fucks sake. He terrifies me, if you want the truth. But he’s taken so much from us both, Amelia. He took your parents from you,
he took me ma from me, and god knows how many others he’s killed or lives he’s ruined to get what he wants over the years. He has to be stopped, and this is the only chance we have of doing that."
Amelia got up out of her seat then and began to pace slowly around the bookshop as though she were considering everything. I knew it was a lot for her take in so I sat back in my seat, poured another drink and gave her as much as she needed, which turned out to be nearly ten minutes. When she came and sat back down again, she seemed to possess a new resolve. "You’re right," she said. "This has gone on for far too long. I’m going to put an end to Iolas…or die trying."
"No one’s going to die," I said. "Except maybe Iolas…and Iliphar."
"Iliphar." She shook her head at the mention of his name. "The friendly psychopath."
"He’s killed before?"
"Iliphar is not just Iolas’ assistant, he’s also his head of security. He’ll do anything that Iolas asks of him, no matter how heinous. He’s dangerous, are you planning on killing him yourself?"
The thought of killing anyone was heinous enough for me, at least until I pictured my poor mother bleeding out in my arms. "Let’s just say if I get the chance I won’t pass it up." Brave words for sure, though who knew until it came to the crunch?
"All we need now is a plan then."
"Let me worry about that. In the meantime, I need to get back in to Iolas’ good books."
"How? He’s washed his hands of you since you walked out on him. He thinks your weak."
I shook my head. "We’ll see whose weak. Anyway, I was thinking I could bring him something, a token gift, along with an apology and the belief that Arthur Cartwright was the real murderer. Think he’ll go for it?"
Amelia sighed and then thought for a moment. "You could try, I suppose. He might go for it, if the gift you brought was valuable enough."
"Don’t worry about that," I said as I got out of my chair and went around the desk. "I’m sure our friend Haknet will have something he can lend us."
"Then what?" Our eyes met as she looked up, and she spread her legs slightly.
"Then…" I leaned down and kissed her softly on the mouth. "Then we get our revenge."
24
Amelia stayed long enough to have sex with me again upstairs in the flat (a bit slower this time, but nonetheless furious), then she left and I told her I would see her once I made my visit to Iolas’ mansion bearing gifts. After she left, I lay in bed for a while staring at the ceiling, mulling things over as I tried to come up with a viable plan to get Iolas’ book of death magic, preferably a plan that wouldn’t get everyone involved killed, except those who deserved it obviously. My mind wasn’t playing ball, however, and I felt unable to focus, so in the end I got dressed and decided to go for a walk at nearly three in the morning.
As I walked down the Quay with the wide river flowing turgidly alongside me, I was struck—as I often was—by how different Dublin seemed at night. There’s a reason James Joyce called Dublin "the Night City" in one of his much celebrated books. Dublin at night took on an ethereal and almost mystical quality as soon as the sun went down, transforming it from a bustling cafe society into a somewhat eerie otherworld that was filled with shadows and sickly glowing lights that illuminated the often strange architecture of the place. Dublin, you see, is a place of great occult significance. If you take the view of the Freemasons and begin to look at the world in terms of symbolism, you would see that Dublin city is rife with occult symbolism. Every other building seems to possess gorgeous turrets, ornate stonework and elaborate murals detailing occult scenes and symbolism, most of which was commissioned by the Georgian occultists who used to have such an influence over the city, and most likely still do in their own way, via their network of secret societies.
One such building was the Sunlight Chambers on the corner of Essex Quay and Parliament Street where I now stood, gazing up at the frieze panels running the length of the building. On the surface, the panels weirdly told the story of hygiene, and served as an advertisement of sorts for the British soap manufacturer who used to operate out of the building. On another level, however, the panels are filled with occult symbolism and significance, the Lever brother’s who commissioned the work in 1899 being knee-deep in magic and occultism, as most of high society back then was, and still is today.
I was just admiring the craftsmanship of the frieze panels when I got a sense that someone was watching me. Taking my eyes of the stonework, I started to look around. At that time of the morning, I wasn’t surprised to see no one else around, but I still couldn’t shake the sense that someone or something was following me. Turning away from the building, I decided to head back to the flat. But as I began to walk up the street, I heard something scurrying along the rooftops of the buildings to my right. Moving out into the street so I could see better, I looked up, thinking that it must be a cat or even a rat running around up there. I saw nothing, however, so I kept on walking.
Inevitably, my thoughts turned once more to Iolas’ book of death magic, and how I was going to steal it from him without getting caught. A plan was beginning to form, one that would involve Dalia and Monty if they decided to help me, which I knew they would. It was a risky play that entailed using Monty to create a distraction at Iolas’ mansion, and Dalia to somehow sneak into the room where Iolas kept the book. The plan was sketchy at this point, maybe even insane, but I had to trust that I could take it more viable given more time.
I had almost reached the bookshop when I heard a hissing sound behind me. As I spun around I knew I was in danger.
I also knew that I was too late to react.
Just as I turned around, something immediately jumped at me with blinding speed, knocking me to the ground and holding me there with supernatural strength as it gave an ear-splitting, unearthly screech, blowing its fetid breath over my contorted face. It didn’t take me long to work out what it was attacking me.
A vamp.
Vamps are lower vampires, filthy and animalistic for the most part, a world away from their higher vampire masters. The vamp on top of me had fiery red eyes set into a deathly pale face, and its fangs were bared as it dripped saliva on to my skin. Given the ferocity of the vamp’s attack, there was no doubt in my mind that it intended to kill me. This was underlined when it swiped me across the face, its claws tearing deep into my skin, causing me to cry out in pain. I knew if I didn’t do something, and quick, that my throat would end up ripped out next, so I used the first spell that came to mind. "Illumino!" I shouted, and almost immediately, a blinding white light appeared in the air between us. I had already shut my eyes against the light, but the vamp hadn’t. The second I heard it screech and recoil, I scrabbled back as I opened my eyes to see the vamp crouching with its hands over its face as if the light was burning it, which it was.
But the light didn’t last long, and as it began to fade, the vamp’s fiery eyes were on me again as it prepared to launch another attack. By this time, though, I had reached into my jacket and pulled out the dagger that Óisín O'Faelin had given me. When the vamp launched itself at me, I was ready. As it landed on me, I stabbed the vamp in the chest with the Druidic dagger, pushing the blade in as far as it would go. The vamp’s eyes registered its shock as it reared back and tried to pull the dagger from itself, but no matter how hard it tried, the dagger remained lodged in its undead flesh, and a moment later the vamp fell over onto its back and lay there with its clawed hands still gripping the weapon that was in the process of ending its life.
I stood and rushed over to the vamp, crouching over it as I grabbed it by the scruff. "Who sent you?" I demanded.
The vamp sneered at me as its hands slipped from the dagger. Vamps were barely intelligible at the best of times, so when it uttered something with its dying breath, I had no idea what it said. Neither did I have any more time to ask, as the creature’s body very quickly turned to ashes that were then carried away down the street on the gentle breeze.
"Fuck!" I said as I
felt the side of my face, recoiling at the depth of the claw marks in my cheek and over my left eye. As I picked the dagger up from out of the remaining ashes, I looked around as I slipped it back inside my jacket. Luckily, there didn’t appear to be anyone else around to witness what had just happened.
And what did just happen? I thought. Why did the vamp try to kill me? Was it just a random attack, or had its master sent it after me like some undead attack dog? Given everything, the latter seemed more likely to me.
"Fucking Constantine," I muttered. It had to be. As if things weren’t dangerous enough, now the vampires had put a hit out on me it seemed. How long until more vamps showed up to try again?
Shaking my head, I quickly went inside the bookshop, locking the door behind me. As I sat behind the desk with a stiff drink, I took out the dagger and stared at it. "Well," I said. "At least I know it kills vamps."
But would it kill Iolas if need be?
Or Constantine for that matter?
25
I used a healing spell on myself to heal the gouges in my face. The spell did a good enough job of knitting the torn flesh back together, but you could still see four reddish lines running from my forehead over my left eye and across my cheek. The scars would probably remain for a few days or so while the healing magic continued to work. In the meantime, I would just have to rock the scary-dude look, which I didn’t really mind. The scars, and the potential for violence that they implied, somehow helped to put me in the mindset I needed to do what I would soon have to do. Chance the easy-going musician had now been pushed aside, replaced by Chance the angel of retribution. Or at least, that’s how I saw myself as I gazed into the mirror. Whatever you gotta tell yourself, right?
Later that morning, I summoned Dalia and Monty to the bookshop, with Dalia arriving first. "It smells like elf in here," she said when she came inside. "You’ve been at it again, and after everything that happened. How can you trust that bitch?"
