by August Li
“You fucking prick,” Inky said. “I only wanted to keep you safe because nobody deserves to get tortured. At least that was what I thought. I’ll be amending my opinion after meeting you. You don’t want me and you don’t need me, so fucking let me go. Let me live and get what I need from the mortals.”
Obtuse, that’s what he was. I had tried to explain this, but it seemed I would need to repeat myself. “There are rules. The deal is struck, and it needs to be fulfilled. You need to complete the task you agreed to do for me.”
“I only agreed because I didn’t want you to die!”
Mrs. Guzman snorted, having succumbed to her potent liquor, and the Mama Juana in her cup spilled onto the carpet. I made a chicken wearing a blue bandana around her neck remove the glass, the stem in her ceramic beak. “The reason is not important, Inky. What’s important is that you agreed. That is an oath you cannot break.”
His ridged horns almost scraped the ceiling when he threw his head back, growling. “Fine! Let’s go back to the little girl’s house, then. But I’ll say this, you little cunt: I won’t let you hurt her. If it comes down to it, I’ll stop you. I won’t let a kid get hurt. Don’t fucking test me. I just want you gone and myself back to normal, but there’s just shit you don’t do. Understand?”
“Yes, yes.” I waved my hand. “You’re very chivalrous. Everyone take note. Quickly, someone erect a statue showing how absolutely heroic you are. The song of your deeds will ring from the hills.”
“Fuck you. Let’s just get this over with.”
“If it means I have access to my home and my estates, then lead the way, demon.”
With a grunt, he turned back toward the door. He clucked his tongue, and Charlene came running. As he bent to pick her up, I said, “She will be safer and more comfortable if we leave her here.”
“Yeah, I guess.” He gave her a scratch behind the ears, and together we walked the short distance to the building where Rosalind Mayfield shared rooms with her brother. The sun was just coming up when we arrived, and it washed the conical heaps of snow lining the walkways with diluted yellow and soft rose.
Inky was tense as we climbed the stairs, his fists furled tight. Even though he knew he would lose, he had every intention of fighting me for the safety of the child. Pitiful as it was, it also struck me as somehow endearing. Anyway, I felt sure it wouldn’t come to that. The chance that this girl had woven so complex an enchantment was as slim as a wisp of dandelion fuzz. I just needed to be sure, so I knocked on the flimsy door.
It opened much faster than it had before, and the pretty boy grabbed me by my lapels, dragged me inside, and slammed my back against the wall. Pink tainted the whites of his eyes, and his lips pulled back to reveal clenched teeth as he pressed his weapon against my face. The metal produced a dull ache along my jawbone.
“Where’s my sister, you son of a bitch?”
“What? Is Rosalind—”
“I’m asking the questions, you piece of shit. Where is she?”
“I would also like to know,” I told him. “The entire reason for our visit this morning is to speak with her.”
Dante drew back and, with the hand holding his small weapon, hit me in the face. It hurt, and though my skin did not break, a fuzzy pain bloomed behind my eyes, and for a moment darkness spilled in at the periphery of my vision. This had all been quite interesting, but enough was enough. I waved my fingers and he flew back, shattering the little table in front of his sofa when he struck it. Faster than I expected, he was on his feet again, a cut across his cheek dripping blood and his weapon pointed at me. “You’re fucking dead!”
“Wait!” Inky stepped in front of me, his arms stretched out. My, he had developed a protective streak. It almost seemed he’d grown in stature as well. “Dante, please listen.”
“Why? Why shouldn’t I just shoot both your sorry asses? Give me one reason.”
“Because if we do know anything about your sister, you won’t find out if we’re dead.” Inky took a cautious step forward, as if he approached a wounded beast. “Not that we do. We don’t even know what happened here.”
“Then what the fuck are you doing here?” The boy’s hand dropped just a hair.
“We wanted to talk to your sister. We need her help, actually.”
Dante’s eyes narrowed. “With what?”
“I’m… I’m afraid that’s going to take some explaining.” Inky blew out a breath and shook his head. “I don’t know how I’m ever going to convince you to believe any of it either.”
“I’ll see to that.” As I stepped around Inky, I licked the first two fingers of my right hand. When I reached the boy, I made him stand still. Oh, he wanted to kill me, wrap his hands around my throat and squeeze until I was dead, but it was easy enough to prevent. I swiped my wet fingers across his left eye, and then I stepped back. His reaction was sure to be… unpredictable.
For a few moments the boy thrashed his head and cursed my existence and my ancestry with an impressive array of colorful phrases. He quite literally swore at me until he ran out of breath to continue. Then, chest and shoulders heaving, he slowly lifted his head and focused on me—on both of us. His eyes widened, and then he scrunched them shut. He kept them closed a long while before he opened them again.
“What the fuck did you do to me?”
“I simply washed away the gauze in front of your eye,” I told him. “I have allowed you to truly see. It’s quite a gift, and to imagine, I granted it with no thought of recompense.”
“You gave me something! What was it? What did you give me?” The boy was trembling, breathing as if he’d run up the side of a mountain, the color leeching out of his skin.
Inky pushed past me and put a hand on Dante’s shoulder. A few broken cries escaped Dante, and he clearly wanted to flinch away, but I thought it best to keep him immobilized a bit longer.
“Dante, look at me,” Inky said in a firm but gentle tone.
“N-no.”
“Yes. Look at me.” Inky took Dante’s chin between his thumb and finger and tipped his head up. “Good start. Now take a nice deep breath. Slowly. Breathe, or you’re going to pass out.”
It took many moments before the boy composed himself enough to ask, “What are you?”
“I’m just a different kind of person to you,” Inky said, stroking his cheek. “I’m…. The people who know about my kind call us magical creatures. There are a fair few of us in the world still.”
“Bullshit,” Dante said. His hand twitched like he wanted to reach for Inky.
I thought that might actually help, move things along so we could get on with the important part. “I’m going to give you back the use of your hand, so long as you agree to drop that funny little weapon as soon as I do. Do we have a bargain?”
He nodded, and the piece of metal fell with a soft thud. Slowly, Dante reached up and held his fingers a few inches from Inky’s face. Inky smiled, and it was disarming, that smile. Dante returned it, though his lower lip still quivered, and he pinched a strand of Inky’s silvery hair. Then he stretched his quaking fingers out and closed his hand around one of Inky’s horns, tugging at it as if he could dislodge the thing. “H-holy shit. What are… what the hell are you?”
Inky made a sound like a growl and a hiss. “That’s the word in our language. Your people, some of them call us demons, though that’s a misleading word. Makes us sound like cunts.”
“But you’re not?”
“Cunts? Some of us are, some aren’t. Same as your kind. I try not to be one, but nobody’s perfect.”
Dante turned to me. “And… and him?”
“Cunt of the highest order, I’m afraid. But to answer what I think you’re asking… fey,” Inky said.
“Like a faerie?”
“Yeah.”
The boy tilted his head. “My sister believes in faeries. When she was little, she always wanted me to read from A Midsummer Night’s Dream and The Tempest. Anything in my mom’s old college books about faerie
s. I imagined they’d be… different. And you say there are more?”
“More like me. Some, anyway. Not like Blossom. Not for a long time.”
“How come I’ve never seen one before?”
“You couldn’t see,” I said. “I’ve fixed your eyes now, though.”
“I don’t….” His little mortal mind was breaking, filled with more than it could hold. “Look, can you let me go? I need some coffee. Something.”
Inky shot me a foul look, and I rolled my eyes. It wasn’t like the boy could harm me anyway.
Dante stretched his arms and trudged into the kitchen to pick up a glass carafe. He tried to pour the contents into a cup, but his hands shook, he dropped it, and it shattered. He stood staring at the mess and then sank to the floor, wrapped his arms around his knees, buried his face, and wept softly.
Inky hurried over and crouched down next to him, rubbing circles on the back of his neck. “Hey, now. It’s a lot to take in, I know that, but you’ll be all right.”
“My sister’s gone….”
“You got anything stronger to drink in here than coffee?” Inky asked.
Dante sniffled and then laughed. “I’m not old enough to drink.”
“Bollocks. Blossom?”
“What?”
Inky shook his head. “For fuck’s sake, make yourself useful. Conjure us up some rose-petal wine or something.”
“Oh.” I wanted to refuse, just because he had been so uncouth about it, but I found a pitcher and filled it. It seemed to calm the boy down a little bit.
“It’s really good,” he said, looking up at me with his big, wet eyes.
I crossed my arms over my chest and turned away. “Of course it is. It is also strong, so don’t gulp it down like a camel.”
“Okay.” His hands shook less as he set the pitcher aside, took in a long breath, and released it in a segmented sigh. “You said you wanted to talk to my sister. Why?”
“I believe there is a small chance she summoned me here, and I would like her to release me.”
“Blossom means to say Rosalind might’ve accidentally used magic to call him here from his world, and he can’t go back unless she lets him.”
“Thank you for repeating exactly what I said, Inky,” I told him. “Did I accidentally speak the wrong language?”
Dante tapped his fingers on the ugly tiled floor. “So you think my little sister conjured up—”
I held up a hand. “Summoned.”
“You think Ros summoned a faerie? How? Why?”
“Some people have magic and don’t realize they have it,” Inky said softly. “We don’t think she meant to do it. But sometimes if a mage wishes hard enough for something, it can happen.”
“Why would she wish for the two of you?” Dante asked.
“Anyone would want me as an ally,” I told him. “According to Inky, all of the mages do.”
“Your sister likely just wanted… something. She thought she was praying, but she was casting a spell. She asked for an angel, and she got, well….” Inky curled his lip up at me.
I huffed. I’d endured about as many of his insults as a reasonable man could be expected to take. “I have more magic in a hangnail than an angel. Angels are dull, they have absolutely no imagination, and most of them are quite nasty on top of it.” Both of them stared at me. “Besides, it’s unlikely any mortal could weave so complex an enchantment. Once I determine that your sister did not do it, we’ll leave here and never trouble you again.”
“So you really didn’t have anything to do with her going missing?” Dante asked.
“You think I want to be saddled with a mewling infant to attend?”
Inky glowered. “Just shut the fuck up, you twat. Dante, we didn’t, I swear we didn’t. We really did just want to see if she had magic, if maybe she’d brought Mr. Delightful there over, and if she could get the hell rid of him.”
“She’s not here. I-I left last night, had to do some work. I locked her door.” The boy’s breath was hitching again, and Inky put the wine pitcher into his hands. “I was only gone maybe two hours, and when I came back, she….”
“Who would’ve done it?” I asked.
“I thought it was you. I… almost hoped it was. Better a couple of tweakers than….”
“Than who?” Inky urged.
Before Dante could answer, a sort of shrill song sounded in the sitting room. Clutching the edge of the counter, Dante pulled himself to his feet. He waded through the debris and rooted in the sofa’s cushions until he located a small device. I followed, stepping over a gaunt woman covered by a blanket who muttered, “Keep it down, Dante. I told you my sinuses are bothering me.”
“Whatever, Mom.” He held the shiny little rectangle to his ear. “Raf?”
“Dante. Did your mother come home?” asked a voice.
Dante looked at the heap of bones and scabs topped with snarled yellow hair. “Yeah. I couldn’t get much out of her. She’s coming down off glass and has at least half a bottle of vodka in her. She doesn’t even seem to know or care that Ros is gone. I don’t think she had anything to do with it.”
“I’m not sure if that’s good news,” said the other man, Raf. “What about her boyfriend?”
“I don’t know. He didn’t show up. I might’ve finally scared his sorry ass off.”
“Moirin got some information from that phone you found.”
“That was quick,” Dante said, hopeful or scared. I couldn’t tell.
“Through it, we were able to locate what we think is the WLF’s headquarters in the area. She took a crew to stake it out, and as far as she could tell, no children. Ros isn’t there.”
“Where is it?” Dante asked, bending to pick up his weapon.
“It doesn’t matter,” Raf answered. “They don’t have her.”
“You don’t know that! Tell me where it is!”
“That wouldn’t be a good idea, Dante. I’m doing everything I can—”
“Fucking tell me, Raf!”
“You’re not thinking clearly. I don’t want you putting yourself in danger.”
“That’s my decision!” Dante shouted. His mother belched, grumbled, and pulled the blanket over her head. It was clear to see Dante had gotten most of his appearance from his father, as he didn’t share her coloring at all. Rosalind’s father must have been a completely different man.
“And giving you information is mine.”
“Please, Raf. I’m begging you here. I’ll do anything.”
“And what would you do if you had that information?”
“I’d go there and make those motherfuckers tell me what they did with my sister!”
“You’d be dead as soon as you walked in the door.”
“Raf!”
I was growing bored of this conversation, and I did not see it yielding fruit anytime soon. If this man Raf had information that could lead to the girl, I needed to know it. “Dante, give that thing to me.”
“Fuck off,” he mouthed.
I snatched the device from his hand and pressed it to my face. “Greetings, Raf. I wish to know the location of the girl, Rosalind.”
“I don’t know where she is.”
“Then where is the location Dante wishes to go?”
Raf hesitated. His will must have been quite strong.
“Tell me now.”
“It’s about an hour away, just north of Pottstown, near a place called Ironstone Creek. It’s God’s country up there.”
Interesting. “Which god?”
“Dante?”
“Tell me more,” I instructed. “Tell me exactly how to find this place.”
“It’s an old cabin,” Raf said. He rattled off some numerals that meant nothing to me. Dante scavenged through the remains of the table, located a pencil, and scrawled them across the top of a yellow envelope.
“That will be all, mortal. Goodbye.” I handed the device back to Dante, and our eyes met.
“Thank you,” he said. “I don’t k
now what you did, but thank you. I need to go there, but…. Fuck. That’s at least a two-hour drive. Do either of you have a car?”
“We should think this through,” Inky said. “It sounds dangerous, and can you even imagine what the roads will be like up there? It might be impassable.”
“Do you have a car?” Dante asked again.
“No,” Inky said.
He turned to me. “What about you?”
“I will acquire whatever is necessary,” I told him. “I need your sister.”
“That’s right.” Dante nodded and ran his fingers along the sparse black fuzz on his chin. “You’ve got money. We can get a car. I can get one, no questions asked. How much do you have?”
“As much as you need.”
“Good. Hang here for a minute. I’m gonna get some more ammo, and then we’ll go. I hope you assholes are worth something in a fight. We might be in for one.”
Chapter Thirteen
I SAT wedged between Dante and Blossom in a beat-up Dodge truck the kid had procured from a bloke by the name of Earl Howie, and I was pretty sure he meant the earl as a title, judging by the sequin-bedecked crown he wore on a chain around his neck. Blossom had paid with a handful of pine needles, which was going to be bad for Dante when the earl figured it out. ’Course, a lot of this was going to be bad for him—and for us.
At least the truck was warm, and it ran well enough I didn’t worry we’d be stuck out in God-knew-where. It had Jersey plates, a fiberglass cap over the bed, and had probably belonged to a plumber or a builder of some kind. There was still a tool chest full of wrenches and shite behind the back seat. I decided not to dwell on what had become of the former owner as I stared out at the abandoned streets.
It took us a bloody hour to get out of the city. In that time, I’d pried some information out of Dante, and none of it was good. Apparently he worked for the biggest gunrunner—what he insisted on calling an arms dealer—in the tristate area. Turns out he pissed off some neo-Nazi fucks, pieces of shite what liked to kidnap kids and sell them into slavery—what they felt was the “rightful place” of anybody who wasn’t lily-white. They had a hideout somewhere out in the Pennsylvania woods, and that was where we were going. The three of us. To a house out in the middle of nowhere, full of probably the evilest pricks on the good earth, all of what were likely heavily armed.
