Coven Keepers (Dark Fae Hollows Book 10)

by Thea Atkinson

  Gus might have been momentarily put off, but I doubted he would hold his urges in check for very long. But just as I took one mincing step backward, thinking it best if I just fled into the shadows and forgot about the alley to the right, Ari spoke again.

  “Aren’t you going to thank me?”

  I snorted. “For my own boots?”

  “No,” he said with a note of impatience. “For keeping these animals off you.”

  The alleyway was looking less likely every second. Unable to help myself, I imagined what he would look like. Swarthy, no doubt. Pockmarked and heavy-browed, maybe. I swung my gaze around at Gus and the way he was trying to cough his larynx back into shape.

  “Way I see it,” I muttered, “I managed that one by myself.”

  There was a long pause. Then, “That’s because you can’t see.”

  A light flared around him that came from somewhere right along his solar plexus, obliterating everything behind him but shooting light all around to his sides and front. I realized how many of them there really were all around me. I counted thirteen men before the light snuffed out. All of them stared at me with rigid arms and clenched fists. Ready to pounce.

  “Best run, little one,” he said.

  And I did.

  My boots clattered against the pavement as I went, not caring how bad my feet hurt as they pounded the earth. I aimed for the alleyway and hoped there weren’t more things in the darkness of this new human realm that I would have to face before I managed to get clear. I groped along in the darkness when it was too black and my night vision failed, running headlong when there seemed to be nothing but empty space. I only stopped running when I saw pale yellow glows in the windows of a few ragged buildings and could tell I had entered the city proper. Those glows, I figured, were more of the light disks worn by more nefarious men, so I kept going until I was wheezing out the bit of breath I dragged in.

  Eventually, I made it far enough into the belly of the city that I began to see more and more of what Ari had called a lumen, except the disks that fired off the glow sat on people’s heads in the form of bandeaus or as armbands or chokers.

  One woman, who I guessed to be a hooker from the way she slung her mini-skirted hips to the side and bothered anyone who got within a foot of her, sported a long chain that ran from ear to bare navel. Winking at her earlobe was a prick of sickly yellow light. In fact, all the lights seemed sickly. As though the glow was on its last watt.

  So they did have light in the human realm. Only…it was wasting and corrupt. I considered approaching one or two of the humans to ask about the source of energy for the lumens, but after the last encounter, I thought it might be more prudent to watch and wait.

  My stomach had begun to protest by the time I found an empty bench. My feet hurt so badly I couldn’t go one more yard. All I wanted was a good meal and a long nap. Wherever the one human child was, it couldn’t be anywhere within these dregs of humankind. I was beginning to think I might be in the wrong part of the hollow altogether, and if that was the case, I was days, if not weeks, away from finding the boy I was looking for.

  I had only two clues to go by—he would be an orphan, and he would wield light as though it were part of him.

  I assumed the best way to begin would be to find an orphanage of sorts, and as for the second… Well, so far in this human realm, everyone wielded light. Strictly speaking, it was part of them even if it was all pale and weak.

  I lay sideways on the bench, facing out and curled into a fetal position so I took up as little space as possible while I studied my surroundings from within the cocoon of shadows. Nothing was as I had expected. The city proper looked very much like the outskirts. Where I could see anything at all, it wasn’t pleasant. The buildings were in disrepair, tattered curtains fluttering outside cracked and broken windows.

  I thought of Freya’s instruction in my early days. She’d said when Coventina began to use the power of physical light to siphon energy from every living thing, the benevolent Miriam had resorted to the unthinkable act of cutting off Coventina’s power supply in order to protect the creatures of the hollow. To do so, she had pulled physical light from the world and sealed it away, effectively leaving Coventina powerless in her grave. The hollow was saved, but it was left in darkness. Every faction of the hollow was jealous of light in the aftermath. Every creature within it was greedy for it. That brought to mind the warnings of the crones before I’d left Avalon. The Fae Faction could not know of this one human child, for what the Fae Faction knew, the Dark Fae Coalition would exploit.

  Now, as I watched the human realm and the way they bandied about lumens of every shape, size, and power, I recalled Freya’s other words. Everyone had light inside of them, she’d told me. Human, witch, and Fae alike. The witch’s light was fueled by magic, as was the Fae, but the human light came from something different. Something that was as rejuvenating but as corruptible as a body’s liver. If that was so, every faction would want that light. And they would want it all for very different purposes.

  The hooker leaned against the building, pulling the end of her chain from her earlobe and running it over the john who approached her. She must’ve seen something she liked in his face, because she grabbed his hand and pressed it against the lumen at her navel. A flare of light inched out around them before burning down like a fire on a slow burn.

  Whatever he’d asked of her, he’d paid for it, and the separate shadows became one against the building. Their sounds reached me on the bench, and my cheeks flushed hot. I tried to keep my eyes from returning to the space where they had disappeared, but there was something more interesting going on than just purchased coupling. The hooker’s navel lumen had grown stronger after the john had touched it. Now it appeared her lumen was stronger than his.

  That was when I realized that however the human realm had managed to access and store light, it had become a sort of currency. Now I understood what Ari had meant when he said there was light if someone knew where to find it.

  What did I need to purchase one of those baubles and get some light for myself to make my way through this new realm?

  Just as I’d had the thought, someone pushed onto the bench next to me. I should have known I couldn’t stay invisible for long. These people lived in this darkness, and their night vision was no doubt superior to mine.

  “Need help?” the man beside me said. He smelled of onions and fish, and the light he wore wrapped around his bare bicep. If it was once bright, it was now a pale orange.

  I uncurled my legs and pushed to my feet. “What I need is some space.”

  “You need help,” he said. “You won’t have long if you don’t get some light.” Large fingers dug into my elbow, and he pulled me back down onto the bench next to him. “I know how you can get some.”

  “Let go of me,” I said through gritted teeth. “You’ve got one warning.”

  “I’m just trying to help,” he said. The fingers that had been wrapped around my elbow let go suddenly. The circle of light moved as he held his hands up in surrender. “It’s impossible to be a Good Samaritan in these days.”

  I looked at him through wary eyes. “You want to be a Good Samaritan?” I asked. “Tell me where I can get something to eat.”

  “You’ve got bigger troubles than eating,” he said. “If you don’t find some light soon, no amount of light will save you later.”

  Looking him over, I considered all the things I could ask him and tried to decide which should be first. I chewed my nail as the dozens of questions swirled about, jockeying for position. He grinned, and the moving shadows on his face put me in mind of fried eels.

  “So you do need it,” he said when I didn’t answer straight off. “I can tell. You’re thinking it over. Why don’t I make it easy for you? I know a fellow who will pay a wad of lumen for a blow job. It’s not much, but it’ll keep you from going fully dark. And if you’re really ambitious, I can get you plenty from an old rich gent who says he’ll spend his full
load on the girl who—”

  Whatever he was going to say got cut off as I spit a sliver of nail toward his face. It felt pretty damn good to see him blink as it struck him in the eye.

  “Bitch,” he said, heeling his palm into his left socket. “Go dark. See if I care.”

  I slid from the bench and faced him, laying my palm on his shoulder. “Tell me where I can grab a bite to eat.”

  I squeezed, pinching into a trigger point that made him wince while I pressed a knuckle from my free hand into his vagus nerve. Long years of training beneath Freya’s expert hand told me I could expect him to lurch forward any second and puke up his last meal.

  I stepped back just in time to avoid getting splashed. My stomach twisted at the stench of old fish and some sort of sour dairy, but I waited patiently for him to gather his composure.

  “So,” I said. “About that meal.”

  He tossed back his shoulders, aiming his glance sideways. “One block down. There’s a homeless shelter.”

  “They’ll feed me?” I cocked my head at him as another wave of nausea forced him to retch. I tapped my foot as I waited. When he had finished and was groaning over his knees, I asked, “Well, will they?”

  “Fuck, yeah,” he gasped out. “What did you do to me, crazy bitch?”

  “Just a little bit of humility,” I said and spun on my heel, pondering on the idea of lumens and what it might mean to my search for the child.

  The refugee camp was exactly a block away, and I found it only because of the stink coming from inside. Dozens—maybe a hundred—unwashed bodies tainted the smell of the sooty air and moldy bread that leeched out into the street. Several men leaned against the building and sat on the curb next to the entrance. Except for them, the street was empty. I had the feeling that, although it was a homeless shelter, it wasn’t exactly a preferable option for most.

  It didn’t matter. I needed sleep. If I could stand the smell, I might be able to catch a few hours of rest.

  I braced myself and stepped over the threshold.

  A faint glow came from several places in the room, and it took me a few minutes to realize that the lights emanated from half a dozen well-placed alcoves with iron bars for doors. Inside each cubbyhole sat a volunteer on a high bench, their lumen discs blazing openly. I found myself staring from one to the other until I realized they were the source of the light in the building. The glow their lumens emitted was enough to obliterate a good deal of the shadows in the room. I was grateful to have the illumination, no matter what that light revealed around me.

  I noticed several old-fashioned pieces of equipment bolted to the walls that at one time might have flickered with living images. Duffel bags littered the floors around the patrons and a bucket squatted off to the side of the wall beneath a missing ceiling tile. A child had found his way over to it and was dipping his hand in to scoop out a mouthful of water.

  The derelicts and homeless folk who sought sanctuary owned light disks as well, but theirs were like the hooker’s—weak and pale. Nothing but pinpricks of dying energy. Unfortunate folk of every age sat or lay around, looking defeated and hopeless.

  In that moment, I felt a wash of pity for them. The disbursement of light here in the human realm seemed inequitable and unfair. I thought of the witch realm and the Fae realm, all with enough power to wield some sort of light to relieve themselves of the perpetual darkness. They managed to live within it and even complete some basic living tasks. Even the Dark Fae Coalition could meter a fair deal of it out without being cheap about it.

  I heard a young girl clearing her throat from behind me.

  “Soup?” a voice asked.

  As I was standing uneasily at the head of the room, I imagined she wanted me to either get in or out so she could get on with her night. I turned to the sound of her voice. She wore a lumen disk on her head in a fashionable-looking headband that pressed neatly into her forehead. It gave her a coalmine chic look that I didn’t think she was going for. What I could make out of her apron was stained and grimy.

  I ambled closer to the counter and got in the way of the light from the nearest cage volunteer. I had to shift sideways to get a better look. A filthy soup pot perched toward the edge closest to her. I thought I could make out a maggot along the side. She held a ladle aloft over the mouth of the pot.

  “There’s not much left,” she said. “If you want some, you need to get it now.”

  She dipped the ladle in and pulled it, dripping with broth that smelled of dirty laundry, toward the row of bowls next to her. Without any finesse whatsoever, she dumped the contents into the nearest metal bowl and thrust it at me. I sniffed at the rim. Despite the noxious smell, my stomach gurgled. I eyed the outside of the pot, trying to see if the maggoty thing was moving.

  “Spoon, please,” I finally said.

  She nodded at a pile of warped and melted plastic nearby. Spoons, forks, and knives no doubt from some rummage pile somewhere were tangled in a pile. I grabbed for something that looked like a spoon and pulled out a distorted fork instead.

  I heaved a sigh. “Never mind,” I said. “It’s probably best if I just pour it down my throat anyway.”

  I was doing exactly that and grimacing at the taste of old fish when she spoke again.

  “Beds are rare by now, but Doug might have one left.” Her lumen swam sideways and lit a fellow with a long beard and greasy hair who was tearing shreds of bread from a sketchy-looking loaf.

  Doug paused when she cocked her eyebrow at him and then rummaged beneath the counter. He came out with a roll of something greyish.

  “There are no pillows,” he said. “But you can have this last blanket. Beds are alongside the wall.” He pushed the grey roll at me.

  I expected beds to mean bedraggled cots from some old war surplus complete with stains and rusty legs. What I found was a row of rolled up self-inflatable air mattresses. Apparently, I was supposed to just find myself a bare place on the floor.

  I wasn’t used to luxury, but the thought of all these unwashed bodies pressing so close to mine left me feeling anxious. My skin crawled just imagining falling asleep.

  One night, I told myself as I chewed on the edge of my nail. Maybe even just a couple of hours.

  I threaded my way through the dozens of sleeping derelicts, stepping over inert forms as I went. Twice I had to hold my breath to keep the stink from forcing the sour soup back up.

  When I got too far away from the light offered by the men in the cages, I had to advance by looking for those telltale pinpricks of faint light that indicated a person. At one point, I stepped on someone’s hand, and they cursed at me. I went more carefully after that, sweeping my foot sideways and back and forth before stepping down with my full weight.

  It was painful, but I finally made it to the back of the room, nearest the atrocious-smelling toilet room, which I discovered was merely a hole in the floor behind a curtain. There was a cage volunteer nearby, and the light he cast showed the curtain was riddled with moth holes. My bladder ached as I looked at it.

  No chance. Not here.

  I plunked my air mattress on the floor and crouched to press the trigger. It hissed at me. A test of its inflation showed nothing. No bounce. No give. Just a long strip of rough canvas. I groaned without meaning to.

  “You won’t get much air in it,” someone said. A woman by the sound of the voice.

  When I peered up, I met the gaze of a young woman holding a squirming toddler. A boy, I thought. He was all bundled up as though she expected the temperature to drop. She extracted a slim but filthy hand out from beneath his coat and extended it.

  “I’m Fran,” she said. Her wrist was encircled by a thready chain that stretched to a lumen disk just above the crook of her elbow. The energy inside it was all but extinguished, but it lit up enough of the boy that I could see he had blue eyes. “This here’s Uriel.”

  Nodding at her, I flicked my eyes to my hands and the threadbare blanket I clutched by its filthy edging. I tossed it
out over the mattress, thinking all the while that my belly felt none too good. I imagined the broth had gone off.

  “You hiding what you got left?” she said. “Or are you at your last too?”

  “Look,” I said, collapsing onto the mattress. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, and I’m too tired to care right now.”

  It was rude, I knew, and I could imagine Freya scolding me, but there was no point in making friends. It never turned out well. With a sigh of relief, I pulled off my boots and wiggled my toes. I didn’t dare inspect the soles. I expected them to be bloody.

  “They look bad,” she said, undaunted.

  I peered over at her as she jiggled the boy up and down on her lap even though he didn’t look like he was about to cry. He seemed pretty content, actually.

  “You want some of my light while you clean them up?” she asked.

  Without waiting for an answer, she aimed her lumen at my feet. The weak glow spread over several blisters. She made a sound of pity as I sucked in my breath.

  “The best you can hope for,” she said, “is to wrap them up.” She pulled a filthy bit of material out from beneath her jacket and passed it to me. “Take it,” she said. “He’s trained now and doesn’t need them.”

  I realized she was handing me a cloth diaper.

  “It’s not soiled,” she said, pushing it toward me. When I didn’t reach for it, she settled the boy on the mattress next to her and then set about tearing the material into strips.

  I watched her from beneath my bangs, chewing at my pinky nail as I tried to figure out why she was being so nice. The only thing that silenced her rambling voice was the rip of linen as she tore strip by strip from the material. The constant stream of her one-sided speech kept me from having to answer, allowing me to watch the two of them instead. The boy pulled at her hair twice, and she paused only a moment before she smoothed it back down and pried his fingers free. When he did it again, she pushed his hands into his pockets.