As soon as he landed, Frolic fell to his knees, his wings spread out behind him. He swallowed great breaths of air as he tried to calm down. Everyone stood in a circle around him, and Querry put his hand on Frolic’s shoulder. Reg knelt down in front of him and pinched Frolic’s chin, inclining Frolic’s face until their eyes met.
Reg gasped. “Oh my God!”
Frolic reached up and felt the torn skin over his cheek. Pain shot across his face as he fingered the ragged edges of his flesh and the warm, smooth metal beneath it. As much as it hurt, it worried him more for the others, especially Querry and Reg, to see him like this, to see such a strong reminder of how different he was. Worried he’d disgust them, he tried to look away, but Reg held him firmly.
Querry clasped Frolic’s hand, stretched his arm out, and pushed his shirtsleeve up. Querry cursed when he saw the cuts and punctures. Frolic just wanted to hide. He didn’t want them to think of him as a machine.
“Somebody, do something,” Reg said, looking up at the confused faces around them.
“I can’t,” Corny said in a trembling voice, ready to cry. “Frolic’s skin, according to the book, is mostly magical.”
“Majesty, Tom, please help him,” Querry said. “You can help him, can’t you?”
“It should be easy enough,” the fey said, crouching down. “The enchantment has just come unwoven. Were you attacked by magic?”
“There were creatures in the trees,” Frolic answered, not meeting Tom’s emerald gaze. “Please fix me, Tom. I’m hideous.”
“I’ll help,” Starling offered.
“I have no need of your power,” Tom snapped, brushing the baron away with a flick of his wrist. He ran just the tips of his fingers over the wounds on Frolic’s face, infusing Frolic with a warm, soothing flow of magic. The pain ebbed away in seconds, and when Frolic felt his skin again, he found it smooth and flawless.
Tom proceeded to close the other tears in Frolic’s skin one by one. By the time he finished, the enchantment left Frolic feeling relaxed and a little euphoric. Giggling to himself, his skin sensitive and tingling, Frolic leaned back against Querry’s chest, reaching up to enjoy the unique texture of the stubble along Querry’s jaw. It felt scratchy against Frolic’s palm, and it made him imagine how it might feel elsewhere on his body.
Reg sat beside him, toying with the ribbon, beads, feathers, and other things Frolic had collected to weave into his curls. Tremors of pleasure shot down Frolic’s neck as Reg traced the edge of his ear. He groaned, getting hard, suddenly very desperate for some time alone with the men he loved.
“Are you feeling better, Frolic?” Starling asked in a compassionate tone with just a dash of impatience.
“I feel wonderful,” Frolic said dreamily, watching enrapt as Reg licked his lips.
“I’m glad to hear it, and I certainly appreciate your bravery. Please, if you would be so kind, tell us how we should proceed.”
Frolic sat up slowly, feeling a little dizzy from the magic coursing through him. He’d all but forgotten about the fruit he’d fought so hard to acquire. It laid abandoned a few feet from his leg. He reached over and picked it up.
“That’s it, then?” Corny seemed incredulous. “That’s how we get inside? A melon? What do we do with it?”
“Eat it,” Frolic answered.
“Don’t like that idea,” she said.
“I ain’t doing it,” Owens said, crossing his arms. “I didn’t sign up for this. We have no idea what it is. It could kill us.”
“It’s the only way,” Frolic said.
“Give it here,” Querry said. “I’ll eat it. Anything to get us the hell out of this place.”
“Querry, that’s very foolish,” Reg said. “Jack’s right. It very well might be poison.”
“One way to find out.” Querry smacked the melon on a nearby rock and split the rind in half. The inside was bright red and liquid, reminiscent of blood and flesh. Without hesitation, ignoring Reg’s vehement protests and pleas, Querry scooped up some of the pulp with his fingers, shoveled it into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. “Bitter,” he said, wrinkling his nose, “and a little hot. A little like a cross between peppers, lemons, elderberries, and wine. My tongue’s a little numb, but I don’t feel…. Oh, damn.”
“What is it?” Reg asked, worried.
With wide eyes, Querry looked up into the tree and pointed at the malicious creatures watching them. “Bloody hell, look at that.”
The others waited a few minutes, and when Querry didn’t vomit, convulse, or fall down dead, Starling, Reg, and even Corny ate a generous portion of the fruit. All of them looked around with amazement.
“My God,” Reg whispered. “Frolic, is this what it’s like for you? You see this all the time?”
Frolic nodded. “Maybe, but I bet you see more. Do you see a way in? Do you know which way we need to go?”
“I… I think I do,” Starling said, shielding his eyes as if it was a bright morning instead of the dead of night. “There’s a sort of faint, glowing trail here on the ground….”
“I see it too,” Reg said. “This is the way, I’m sure of it.”
“Let’s get this done,” Querry said. “Not a bloody minute too soon.”
Since he couldn’t eat, Frolic didn’t see the pathway, and he didn’t see the glowing door the others claimed they’d found on the monotonous surface of the stone. Jack and the other mercenaries stood well back, whispering among themselves.
“Well, we found it,” Querry said, flattening his palms on the doorway Frolic couldn’t see. “Now how the hell do we open it?”
“Leave that to me,” Starling said with a frown. “Tom….”
“No.”
“Curse it, you must obey me.” The baron grabbed the fey by the sleeve and pulled him over, stretching his arm out and bunching the fabric to expose his golden-brown skin.
“Just what do you think you’re doing?” Reg stepped forward, his hand on one of his pistols, and stood chest to chest with Starling.
Instead of the insults Frolic expected, Starling sighed and shook his head. “This pains me too. But it is necessary. Only fey may enter this place. It is unpleasant, but I promise it won’t do any permanent harm. Please, I must ask you to defer to my knowledge of these matters.”
Without waiting for Reg to acquiesce, Starling drew a dagger and dragged it across the inside of Tom’s arm. The faerie let out a bone-chilling cry of pain as his blood splattered the ground and splashed against the stones along the base of the temple. Those who’d eaten the fruit gasped, and though Frolic couldn’t see what occurred, he felt the air around him shift and shimmer. Everything jiggled like gelatin, and a rush of cool, grass-scented wind washed over them.
“At last,” Starling said.
Tom Teezle yanked his arm away from the baron and pressed his hand to his oozing wound. “That is the last time you’ll touch me, human. Mark my words.”
“Tom, I am sorry. If I knew any other way—”
Tom held up his hand. “Save your hollow words, sorcerer. They mean nothing to me, and they’ll do nothing to save you. As soon as I like, I’ll be done with you, so you’d do well to proceed while I’m inclined to remain.”
Without another word, Starling stepped inside what Frolic saw as a dark splotch on the stone and disappeared. Querry took Reg and Frolic’s hands and, with a stiff spine and a guarded posture, led them inside the ancient, ensorcelled temple.
Chapter 28
THE THIEF’S instinct, as Querry had always thought of his uncanny ability to sense wealth and treasure, told him something precious waited within these labyrinthine corridors. His goggles allowed him to see quite well as the group traversed the narrow, winding halls, so he stayed with Frolic at the flank of the party, while Starling, with his bluish orb, led them along with a sulking and reluctant Tom Teezle. Corny, Jack, Istvan, and Attila stayed between them, while Reg and Jean-Andre, pistols ready, guarded the sides.
The glass-smooth stone they walk
ed across sloped downward so gradually Querry barely noticed their descent into the earth. He thought it wise to keep some record of the way they’d come, so he used his dagger to make small marks on the walls at regular intervals. Everything looked the same. Much to Querry’s confusion, Frolic was determined to find gold. To Querry’s further astonishment, he managed to locate several hidden alcoves, small rooms off the main tunnel, containing piles of gold nuggets. Querry didn’t understand Frolic’s sudden appreciation of wealth, as Frolic had always valued strange things like sea glass and feathers above actual money, but he certainly didn’t argue as he filled his pockets and pouches with all he could carry. There was more than enough for all of them to share, and everyone but Tom and Starling loaded up. Before long, the crate that had carried Frolic’s wings was nearly full of raw gold. If they got out of this, they’d live like kings.
It was impossible to keep track of time in the perpetual gloom, and Querry had no idea how long they’d been below ground when the corridors opened up to a large, round room. Starling held up a hand to pause the group, and Querry moved to the front. His skills would allow him to detect any kind of traps or obstacles. The baron directed his glowing ball to the center of the chamber, and it illuminated a large space with a ceiling so high it remained in shadow. Querry took a few steps into the room, his breath echoing in the vastness. He did a quick scan, checking the walls for levers and the floor for any irregular tiles that might indicate a pressure plate. He squinted into the gloom, looking for anything that might drop down upon them, but he found nothing. Not for the first time, he wondered what the Fair Folk had intended when building this place, because he now felt sure they had.
Querry was just about to tell the others to proceed, that he’d found nothing amiss, when he saw a group of people, eight of them, standing at the opposite end of the chamber.
“Get ready,” he told the others as he drew his sword and pistol.
REG READIED himself for a fight. The eight people in their party stood facing eight enemies. Without his spectacles, and at such a distance, Reg couldn’t make out many details, but something about their opponents seemed oddly familiar. Both he and Jean-Andre raised their guns and took aim at one of their adversaries. Miraculously, both of them missed. The others stepped into the icy light, and Reg’s insides knotted up, his fist trembling around the handle of his gun. They faced exact replicas of themselves; the imitation Querry and Frolic were so perfect Reg couldn’t bring himself to attack them. Instead, he set his sights on the Baron Starling, who he reasoned would be the most dangerous. He fired, but the faux-Starling dodged and avoided his bullet. Reg turned, aiming at Tom Teezle. Before he could squeeze the trigger, his opposite approached him, blocking his shot.
The other Reg wore a fine, fawn-colored suit, with long tails and a matching waistcoat. A gold and green, paisley cravat held by a pearl pin encircled his neck, and gold-rimmed spectacles shot the real Reg’s reflection back at him. A tan bowler hat sat atop neatly trimmed, blond locks. When Reg raised his firearm and his doppelgänger did the same, it felt surreal, as if he looked in a mirror. Reg resisted the disconcerting sensation and fired. Just as he would in its situation, the copy dropped and covered its head. As soon as it recovered, it braced its wrists against its knee and aimed at Reg.
Reg desperately sought cover, and found a shelf of stone protruding from the wall. He dove behind it just as his opposite fired. Bullets ricocheted off stone, and smoke and the smell of sulfur filled the air. Reg peeked around the edge and saw his copy scanning around for him. He turned and pressed his back to the rock, trying to steady his erratic breathing. He just had to hide, keep himself safe, until Querry, Frolic, or Jean-Andre destroyed the other Reg.
More bullets pinged off the stone. Reg risked a look beyond his cover. All of the others fought with their opposites, Frolic crossing swords with his doppelgänger, Querry trading blows with his copy, Jean-Andre firing on the other Belvaisian, and Starling exchanging volleys of magical energy with his replica. The other Reg pushed his spectacles up the bridge of his nose and grinned madly as he approached. The light on the glass obscured his eyes. Still, Reg crouched, waiting for one of his friends to save him as they always did.
Above the din of the others fighting, Reg heard his nemesis approach, his fancy, custom-made, wing-tip shoes clicking on the stone. Reg still thought Querry would rescue him, and he worked his body into the corner. Still the other Reg drew nearer. Reg knew Querry would save him; Querry always saved him; he had since they’d been boys.
The shadow of the other Reg stretched long before it as it approached the corner where Reg cowered. Reg now knew no one would save him. In that moment, he realized how much he’d always relied on Querry to protect him. Though he’d fought beside his friends, somewhere in the back of his mind, he’d always depended upon Querry to ultimately face the threats. He could take care of himself, but he’d still always expected Querry to come to his rescue. He’d always placed his fate in Querry’s hands, but he couldn’t do it any longer. He had to face this threat himself, alone. It was his greatest fear, but he had only himself to rely on.
Reg peeked past the stone wall and saw his copy walking leisurely toward him. He knew he was on his own, not because Querry didn’t treasure him, but because Querry trusted in Reg’s abilities. Reg, determined to prove him right, looked down his sights at his replica’s belly. Querry believed in him. So did Frolic. He wasn’t a damsel waiting to be saved. No. He could take care of himself. Reg squeezed the trigger, and his bullet tore through his mirror image, dissolving it into a column of smoke.
Reg collapsed, his ass smacking the smooth stone. He wanted to help his friends, but he knew they had to face themselves and their weaknesses as he had. He wondered if they could accomplish it. Still, he mopped the sweat from his brow with his sleeve and reloaded his guns. Maybe for once, he’d be the one winning the day.
FROLIC FACED an exact duplicate of himself, except that the other clockwork boy lacked the embellishments to its hair Frolic had acquired traveling through the jungle, and of course it didn’t have the resplendent, golden wings sprouting from its back. It wore garments like Frolic had when Querry had found him in the doll maker’s cellar: a lacey shirt, short, velveteen trousers, hose, and little blue shoes with bows on top. Frolic hated the sight of it looking so obviously like a doll and nothing else. Its expression was vapid: a dull smile and wide, empty eyes. To Frolic, it personified everything he detested about himself, and he drew his sword to destroy it.
Frolic thrust his weapon toward the doll’s heart, but with remarkable speed, it reached up and grabbed his blade. Its insipid grin never faltered as it snapped the enchanted sword in half with a twist of its wrist. Frolic stared in horror at his beloved sword. The doll used his distraction to draw back and hit him in the face. It felt like getting smacked with a metal bar, and Frolic heard a clang inside his skull as he flew backward and landed on the floor. Before he could get back to his feet, his duplicate jumped and straddled him, grabbing the sides of his hair and smacking the back of his head against the stone. Frolic’s vision grew fuzzy, and he stabbed desperately at his enemy with the remains of his weapon. The sword tore through the other Frolic’s skin, but its metal skeleton prevented any real damage.
Reg called out to Frolic, his voice sounding garbled and far away. A shot rang out, striking the imitation Frolic in the shoulder. The bullet pinged off the doppelgänger’s gold bone, once again inflicting little injury, but managing to knock the pretender back. Frolic used the few seconds Reg had bought him to reverse their positions, hurrying to push his duplicate to its back and hold his blade to its throat.
Unfazed, the pretty doll backhanded Frolic in the cheek, sending him slumping on his side. It arched its back and got to its feet in a seamless motion. Frolic rolled just in time to avoid the foot it aimed at his face. He grabbed for the duplicate’s leg, hoping to throw it off balance, but it stepped out of reach and kicked him in the ribs, driving the air from his lungs.
Coughing and gasping, Frolic struggled to sit up and scuttle away from his double, but before he could, it reached down, took hold of his throat, and lifted him off his feet.
Frolic couldn’t breathe, and the lack of water vapor to produce steam made his gears move slowly. He found it increasingly difficult to move his limbs, as if the mechanisms inside him had rusted and couldn’t turn. As Frolic twisted and clawed at the doll’s arm in an attempt to free himself, it looked up at him with the same, serene smile. It was just too strong and too fast. It wasn’t human, but a machine with far superior power and resilience. Then, just as he was about to lose consciousness, Frolic realized he had the same advantage. He didn’t want to be different from Querry and Reg, but he was. He didn’t like being metal and gears instead of flesh, but he was. If he wanted to save himself, he had to use the advantages he’d been given. With the last of his strength, Frolic drove his truncated sword into the other’s wide, golden eye. It shattered and released a plume of steam. The imitation howled with pain and dropped Frolic to cover its ruined eye.
Frolic landed on his feet and staggered back a few steps, swallowing air until he recovered his normal range of motion. Then he grabbed his duplicate’s corkscrew curls, held its head, and drove his fist into the side of its face over and over. He couldn’t think of it, or himself, as human, he knew. Metal dented and caved in beneath Frolic’s onslaught. The doll’s beautiful face became misshapen and grotesque. When it tried to strike back, Frolic seized it just above its bicep and pulled, severing the joint with a loud pop and a grinding of gears. Its arm dangled uselessly beside it. Then, feeling like he moved through some horrific nightmare, Frolic drew back and plunged his hand into the other clockwork’s chest, just beneath its metal sternum. He drove his arm up until his fist closed around a blistering hot, glass orb. Frolic squeezed, shattering the other doll’s heart, destroying it the same way he’d once been killed. As soon as he did, it dissolved into a sheet of steam and dispersed.
A Grimoire for the Baron Page 35
