Infinity Key (Senyaza Series Book 2)

by Chrysoula Tzavelas

  The storyteller spreads his arms. “But there is hope. The dreamers still exist, and they can bring happiness again. I am Vardaris and I will lead you on this journey. Be ready, and do not be afraid!”

  After the main video there is an outtake. Vardaris laughs at something somebody off camera says, his suit buttoned up properly. A woman with white hair, white skin, and a blue minidress moves into the frame and unbuttons his jacket and shirt. She reaches up to the wild violet hair as if she wants to tame it, before he pushes her away and swats her on the bottom. Then he smiles at the camera, before the video cuts to black.

  -fourteen-

  Branwyn wasn’t surprised Howl didn’t believe her at first. She was surprised that he would be so persistent in telling her he didn’t believe her after his initial silent withdrawal. He didn’t write the whole thing off as a prank, possibly because she’d vanished in front of his eyes a few times. But he wanted more proof, and he promised that he’d make her life a living hell until she either provided it or recanted. The thing about Howl was that when he said that kind of thing, he wasn’t making an idle threat. He had resources. He delivered. A day was enough for Branwyn to first regret telling him, then regret declaring that she didn’t care if he believed her.

  She thought about her stack of charms. She had two that had a demonstrable-to-others effect that didn’t involve opening portals: a charm Zachariah had given her to “remove that which was unwholesome, intoxicating, or simply toxic from food and drink,” and Corbin’s self-defense charm. She wasn’t excited by the thought of drinking something toxic just to prove she could, even to escape a life of little-brother-inflicted Hell.

  Instead, she met her siblings on the front porch and activated Corbin’s self-defense charm. Her fingernails extended from her fingers like claws and she dragged them lightly along Howl’s arm. Despite her gentleness, spots of blood bloomed where the claws broke the skin. Howl jerked at first, then held very still.

  “Ooh,” said Rhianna, perched on the porch railing.

  “I can’t cut through steel or anything,” Branwyn cautioned. “They’re still nails, just thick and hard and sharp. And it feels really weird when they change.”

  Howl stared at the beads of blood. Then he said coldly, “That’s pretty unimpressive magic,” and went into the house.

  Branwyn called after him, “It’s still magic.”

  It was enough, apparently, because he stopped haunting her voicemail and her email, and for the next three days when she went to the house, he wasn’t waiting on the porch to ambush her. She missed him, to her surprise.

  On the third day, Rhianna waved at her through the front window as she approached, then slipped out the front door. “Let’s see if your elf can stop me from coming through with you. As an experiment.”

  Branwyn shook her head. “He’s been prickly lately. I don’t want to drag uninvited guests into his house. Not before I’ve sorted things out, anyhow.”

  “Even if his house is in our house?” Her sister smiled sunnily.

  Shrugging, Branwyn said, “It was a duplex once before, now it’s a duplex again. Look, I’ll ask him sometime if you can come visit. He might say yes. Don’t you have to go back to work at some point?”

  Rhianna made a mournful face. “Alas! A rogue squirrel got into the roof in my building and chewed through several very important wires. They’re still tracking down the extent of the damage.”

  “A squirrel.” Branwyn loved her sister and missed having her around more, but she wasn’t pleased by the news; Rhianna was too wicked and inquisitive to be trusted, especially with Howl around to help her.

  “A really big one!” Rhianna pantomimed giant incisors with her fingers. “There’s some vicious wildlife on our campus. Absolutely no fear of humans.” She paused as Branwyn snorted, then added solicitously, “Branwyn! Are you choking?”

  “No, I’m laughing. Since you ask.”

  Rhianna gave her a prim look. “Anyhow, I’ll be here for at least another week.” Then she turned and flounced inside the house.

  Instead of following her, Branwyn used Tarn’s silver courtkey on the door. Then she opened it and stepped through to Underlight, looking over her shoulder to make sure that Rhianna wasn’t trying anything sneaky.

  Because she wasn’t looking where she was going, she put her foot down wrong and slipped when one of the carpets moved underfoot. She went sprawling onto the floor, banging her knee and her hip. It almost felt like the ground had shifted under her, jumping to throw her off balance.

  When she looked up, Tarn was gazing down at her. His expression was as chilly as it had been the last time she’d seen him, when he’d told her to stay away for a few days. “My apologies. My realm has been acting out recently.” His words were crisp.

  “Is it that drag from the door you mentioned? Or something else?” She thought again of the tiny earthquake that occurred in the gallery.

  “That is not your concern. Why have you returned?” he demanded, as if she hadn't been stepping through the door directly to her workroom for the last few days. Maybe that had been the realm compromising between his wish and her courtkey?

  Irritation flashed through her, all the same. What game was he playing now? “You told me to,” she pointed out, rising to her feet and wincing as her knee twinged. “We have unfinished business. A locked door for a comatose woman, a mirror for some magic.”

  A ripple moved the tapestries, and then Tarn let out a breath. “Very well.” He moved to his chair and she realized he’d been standing quite close to the door, like he’d been waiting for her. At his throne, he picked up a small, thick book. “The Machine we seek is in the possession of one of the Lost. He was once very closely aligned with my kind, on the verge of joining us—”

  “Wait,” Branwyn interrupted. “What are the Lost?”

  “The Lost Ones, the Destroyers. One of them slew several of my servants on the journey to the Queen of Stone, before you… distracted him.” Tarn’s mouth twisted in a sneer that automatically set Branwyn’s back up. But she behaved; it was an accurate description.

  “Right, them. The monsters, the kaiju. Go on. Wait. Slew? He said they’d return to you and you’d remake them.”

  “Their essence and their energy did return to me. I will, in time and at need, give them new bodies. May I go on?”

  Branwyn thought about asking more but decided now wasn’t the time. Penny would have been proud of her restraint. “Go ahead.”

  “As it pleases you, milady,” said Tarn, sweeping her a sardonic bow. “This particular Lost One was once close friends with my kind. He does not remember it now, because he’s been reborn several times since those days. But the truth endures. He will be eager to see the door unlocked if approached correctly.”

  Branwyn gave Tarn a wary look, remembering exactly how well her attempt to negotiate with the Queen of Stone went. “And what’s the correct way?”

  “Once again, you are to be my courier. You will deliver a gift and a message and return with the prize.” He hesitated. “Do not try to alter the terms of the agreement this time, Branwyn. Do not… improvise. This Lost One would be very happy if you did, because then he could claim you instead.”

  Branwyn met Tarn’s pied gaze, then looked away. “What’s the gift this time?”

  “A trinket,” Tarn said blandly.

  She looked back at him, scowling. “A trinket representing the ability to coerce yet another person into service?”

  He studied her for a long moment, then said, “Yes. Me.”

  Branwyn blinked. “What?”

  “I’m offering him a future favor in exchange for assistance now. It is how we work, Branwyn. Barter and favors.” His mouth crooked up. “We’re not civilized enough for a proper currency, I’m afraid.”

  “Why didn’t you do that with the Queen of Stone, then?” Branwyn knew she sounded accusing, and she couldn’t help it.

  He spread his hands. “She’s my Queen. Without her, Underlight wouldn’
t exist. I couldn’t offer her what she already had.”

  “Oh. Right.” Branwyn tried to shrug off her embarrassment. “What’s this Lost One’s name? Where is he?”

  Tarn shrugged. “I never knew. But these days, he calls himself Hunter. He lives on Earth, to the north of here.”

  “Oh, wonderful,” Branwyn muttered under her breath. “Is there a hurry? Do I have to leave right away? I’m not really ready to go.”

  He almost smiled again. “The journey must be soon, while the moon is new, or else we must wait for the full. Only then can my servants walk the world beside you. And I do not think it would be wise for you to go alone.” Then, almost as if he couldn’t stop himself, he said, “How is Penny?”

  “You know the answer to that,” Branwyn snapped. “But thank you for the little needle. I’ll get ready as fast as I can.”

  Tarn spread his hands. “We’ll be here.” The world dissolved around Branwyn and she found herself on her family’s porch again, blinking foolishly at the door.

  Hunching her shoulders, wondering why Tarn was acting so mercurial all of a sudden, she curled up in the porch swing and pulled out her phone. She flipped through her contact list for a few moments, absently switching between three different numbers while she went over her previous interactions with Tarn. At last she decided that he didn’t like that she wouldn’t indulge him in all his games, and, that settled, she straightened up and pushed the Call button on the active number.

  The phone rang and rang, until finally it reached voicemail. Branwyn frowned, then redialed the number. This time, after six rings, Simon answered. He sounded harried. “What do you want, Branwyn?”

  “Can I come by the office to chat? I have a proposition for you.”

  “I’m not at the office right now,” he said shortly. Something tore on his end of the line.

  “Oh? Where are you?”

  “I’m working. I did say. Everybody’s laid up or run off to avoid a girl, it’s just me, I’m swamped. What’s this proposition of yours?”

  “I’d rather meet in person. How about I meet you somewhere and buy you a drink?” Branwyn tried her best wheedle.

  There was a squelching sound and a growl. In a lowered voice, Simon said, “You think you just have to wave alcohol and I’ll come running, eh? I’ve got plenty, thank you.”

  Branwyn rolled her eyes. “Dinner, then. Everybody eats dinner.”

  “Hold on.” There was a thud, then another growl so close to the phone that Branwyn jerked away. After a moment, she gingerly put the phone back to her ear. Something whirred and ticked on the other end.

  “Simon?” When there was no answer, Branwyn started planning what she’d do if he never responded. She could find somebody to track down his phone’s location—

  Her reverie was interrupted by a crash, then Simon said, “Yeah, okay, I’ve thought it over. You’re a pretty girl, I haven’t eaten in a couple of days, it all makes sense. I’ll just clean up here. Meet me in forty-five minutes at the Brown Bull on Colorado.” Without waiting for her acknowledgment—or, more likely, her annoyance—he hung up.

  *

  ***“What The Heck? Burned Down House”***

  Views: 120,231

  Abandoned house in my neighborhood caught on fire. Went up like an explosion. Saw this weird chick there after.

  The burning wreckage of a house at night, all orange and black. The camera zooms in and there’s a woman silhouetted against the flames. There’s a lot of noise as fire trucks pull up and the video cuts to black. When it returns, it’s closer to the fire and the woman. The firefighters are nowhere to be seen, but the house is still blazing merrily. The woman turns to the camera and smiles. “These fall nights can get a little brisk,” she says. She holds up her hand and sparks seem to dance across her fingers. Cut to black.

  *

  The Brown Bull was a steak joint, the sort that catered to meat-and-potatoes businessmen. It wasn’t quite as expensive as Branwyn expected and it wasn’t crowded, either. Simon was waiting for her outside when she walked up. He looked trashed; he’d clearly washed his face and his hands, but soap hadn’t been involved. Branwyn sniffed as she joined him, but didn’t detect anything other than dirt and sweat. Maybe he hadn’t actually been fighting something when she’d called. Maybe he’d been… chopping wood. Assisted by a very large dog.

  And maybe she was Little Red Riding Hood.

  Simon gave her a cocky smile. “I’ve been waiting ages.”

  “This isn’t a date,” she warned him as she glanced around. “It isn’t that kind of proposition.”

  “Course it isn’t.” But he kept grinning at her as they sat down.

  As they waited for their drinks, she said, “So what exactly were you doing when I called?”

  He ran a hand through hair that was already standing on end. “Ah, well, there was some spawn camped out in a delayed construction project down on—well, never mind where. Predators. They needed dealing with.”

  Branwyn wrinkled her nose. “Spawn? Like, offspring?”

  He gave her a puzzled look, then took the glass a waiter delivered and gulped its contents. “Right, you’re new. The kaiju can make a deal with willing humans where the human gives up their soul in exchange for a portion of the kaiju’s power. The human is remade as a servant of the kaiju. It’s a messy process, though. Kaiju aren’t exactly sane, so it never goes well for the human. You know how in stories there’s a master vampire, doesn’t really have much in the way of weaknesses, and then there’s other vampires who are afraid of the sun and so on? This is where that comes from.”

  “Wait, there are vampires, too?” Branwyn couldn’t hide her dismay.

  Shrugging, Simon said, “There’s a couple of kaiju who shape their spawn into creatures of that flavoring, sure. They’re nasty, but they’re not the worst.”

  Branwyn thought about that for a few minutes. After the waiter left with their order, she said, “What do the kaiju do with the souls?”

  “How the hell would I know? Maybe they eat them. Maybe they store them. Maybe they fold them up into origami and show them off to their friends. But why are we talking about this? This is work. I don’t want to talk about work.” He grinned at her again. It was a little disturbing how a few fingers of scotch and water had improved his color.

  “But I do. I wanted to talk about kaiju in specific. Sorry.”

  His grin turned into a scowl. “You’re not really sorry,” he accused.

  “Well… no. But it seemed the thing to say. I am buying dinner, though.”

  “Oh, fine. But you’ll have to let me buy you dinner sometime, too. And we shan’t talk about work at all then.” He gave her a sly, smug smile.

  Branwyn hesitated. Normally that sort of proposal would irritate her. But somehow, with Simon, it didn’t. He was probably lonely, she reasoned. And she didn’t feel like he was hitting on her, despite him calling her a pretty girl earlier. Oddly enough, that hadn’t annoyed her, either. She wondered if she’d mind if he did hit on her. She decided the stench of alcohol would probably get on her nerves eventually. But she could be a friend.

  “Sure. But after I get back.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Where are you going?”

  She took a deep breath. “Tarn is sending me on another quest. This time, it’s to a kaiju he called Hunter.”

  All remaining cheerfulness fled from Simon’s face. Slowly, he pushed his chair back on two legs and rubbed his mouth, his gaze intent. “Now I see why you wanted to talk to me.”

  “Do you?” asked Branwyn, pleased. “Good.”

  Simon continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “You want me to tie you up so you can’t go. Wise, very wise.”

  Stiffly, Branwyn said, “I was actually hoping you’d come with me.”

  Almost gently, he said, “I’m not suicidal, girl.”

  “What’s suicidal about it? You kill kaiju, don’t you?”

  He laughed and all the good the scotch had done him vanished from hi
s face. The bread arrived and he started toying with a roll. “I’ve got no idea how to even talk to you. You’ve got it into your head that the kaiju and the angels and, yes, probably the faeries are like tigers. But the beasties I fought tonight, the spawn of a kaiju, they’re a lot worse than a tiger, and their maker—” He shook his head. “We don’t fight kaiju by showing up on their front doorstep and ringing the bell. Ambush, that’s the way. Ambush and luck and I’ve still seen more hunters go down for good than I ever like to think about sober. You think because they talk to you that they’re like humans, or even like the nephilim, that they operate on the same scale. But you’re a kitten to them. A fuzzy mouthful, with big eyes and a nice purr.”

  Branwyn took a deep breath, keeping a tight leash on her temper, and Simon waited in silence. Finally, she said, “And yet, there’s you.”

  He frowned. “What do you mean by that?”

  “There’s you, there’s Corbin, there’s Marley, for crying out loud. You had a father and a mother, and you said they had more than a one-night stand. So we’re not just fuzzy mouthfuls. We're people and so are they.”

  Bleakly, he said, “Is that the route you really want to take on this mad quest of yours? I didn’t think that was your style.”