Tales from Harborsmouth

by E.J. Stevens

  The last drop of blood fell to the ground and I threw the body in a heap against the wall. My minions would dispose of it later. Holding my gore covered hands to the sky, I laughed. My power was growing and the day of the ritual was fast approaching. I had the tree and the blood. All was going according to plan.

  I pulled a sprig of mistletoe from my pocket and flung it at the exsanguinated body. As if bleeding the immortal dry was not enough, the red caps would be certain to feast on its flesh before carrying the remains to the ritual fire. The kiss of death, indeed. I laughed again, walking jauntily away.

  As the killer moved further from the blood cooling on the ground, my perspective shifted. I was no longer looking out through the twisted killer’s eyes, but the new view wasn’t much of an improvement.

  Slinking away from the congealing puddle was a beautiful female faerie. She was obviously not afflicted by the cold as she prowled happily with bare feet across the icy ground. Her pale limbs moved with the lithesome grace of a ballerina. The faerie sashayed to a dramatic halt beside the bundle of bones resting on the ground.

  She cocked one long finger at the skeleton, beckoning for him to join her. When the skeleton did not respond, because, hello, he was dead as a doornail, the faerie scooped him up into her arms. The cloak fell to the ground as she twirled the naked skeleton in a macabre parody of lively merriment. But the thing she embraced was long dead and the cruel curl of her lips lacked the warmth of happiness.

  “Soon all shall witness your talent again, my love,” she said. The faerie sighed, tilting her head of brilliant red hair and frowning playfully. “You were always the most gifted of all of my human pets. Now their art appears garish to my eyes and their music discordant to my ears. Return to me, my sweet, and we shall create beauty together once again.”

  The faerie spun a graceful pirouette, turning her face toward the spot above the blood puddle where my consciousness hovered. I gasped. The otherwise beautiful woman had empty eyes that seemed to radiate blackness darker than the night around us. As she leaned in to gaze at her skeletal lover, lines of darkness spread further across her face.

  Whatever spellwork she was dabbling with, it wasn’t doing her any favors.

  The faerie gave the skeleton a passionate kiss that made my stomach roil then skipped away, melting into the shadows.

  I gasped, the killer and her gruesome vision were gone, but I remained trapped within the psychic impressions left on the blood. I was tethered to the dark, red puddle and nothing I tried would cut me free.

  That, of course, was when the nightmare vision went from twisted to absolutely terrifying.

  One by one, the alley filled with redcaps. They surrounded the puddle of blood, licking their lips with worm-like tongues. I tried again to break free of the vision and failed.

  Redcaps normally live in remote locations, within the ruins of old castles and stone towers. In the North East, they had settled along the coast in abandoned lighthouse towers and crumbling civil war fortifications. Redcaps don’t normally live in cities, or stray far from their nest, but I had run into one last summer, literally, while walking the streets of Harborsmouth.

  My redcap encounter had been in broad daylight, another aberration since the small, dwarflike fae were nocturnal. But that wasn’t the most unusual part of that meeting. After wounding me, the redcap had run his tongue along his evil, black blade. But upon tasting my blood, the creature had bowed to me and apologized, even gifting me his dagger as compensation for his actions. He’d run off too quickly for me to get answers, but Kaye still grumbled whenever she looked at that blade. The encounter remained a puzzle.

  Redcaps shouldn’t be in the city. But now there were a dozen of the vile creatures dipping their hats into the puddle of blood that the female faerie had left behind. These must be her servants, though who knows what redcaps were good for. I really didn’t want to know.

  Sadly, I had a ringside seat for the show.

  Once the redcaps had each soaked their hat in blood, they surrounded the merry dancer’s body. An individual with a particularly large hat lifted the sprig of mistletoe from the corpse and dangled it in the air with a mocking grin. Blood ran down his face, from the cap on his head, as he bent down to kiss the dead faerie. The others leaned in as well, looking for all the world as if they were giving the deceased a departing kiss, but when they came away chunks of flesh were missing from the body.

  I’d seen enough.

  The merry dancer had been killed as part of a blood magic ritual and red caps were involved. I didn’t know what it meant, but I did know now what I needed to do. I had to find the faerie mage’s lair, and fast.

  I fought against the vision, gagging as the image of feasting redcaps swam before me. Come on Jinx. Get me the Hell out of here. The redcaps dove their heads back to the body like blood-crazed piranha, and I screamed. I fought against the vision, becoming more exhausted as I thrashed against the barriers that had grabbed hold of my mind.

  It would be so easy to stop fighting, but giving in to the fatigue and despair was not an option. Not only was being trapped in this vision my worst nightmare, but I was no use to Marvin like this. The kid needed my help. Oh Oberon’s eyes, I can’t give up now.

  My muffled screams turned to moans and whimpers as I returned to myself. I gagged and pulled the scarf from my mouth. Bile rose in my throat and I took a deep breath, but my stomach continued to churn. Heaving, I crawled away from the puddle of blood, now frozen, and vomited up my breakfast. Oh yeah, I was never having flavored coffee again.

  “Here,” Jinx said. Jinx unsealed a sanitizing wipe packet and handed me the wipe and my gloves. “You okay?”

  I didn’t feel okay, but nodded anyway. No sense making Jinx worry. My friend had managed to wash the blood from my hands, helping to pull me from my vision. I shuddered. That was one nightmare I never wanted to experience again.

  I pulled on my gloves and put a hand to my stomach. I waited for the waves of nausea and dizziness to pass. The headache, apparently, was here to stay. I’d kill for an aspirin, but my pockets were full of charms and weapons, not normal things like aspirin and chewing gum.

  I stood slowly and looked around the alley. The filthy street had returned to its pre-vision appearance. No redcaps or crazy homicidal mages—thank Mab.

  It was also damned cold.

  I rubbed my gloved hands over my arms and stamped my feet against the icy pavement. I winced as the sound echoed up and down the alley. My head felt like it was going to split open and the sound of pixies buzzed in my ear, but we didn’t have time to waste. Marvin was missing and I had new information on our killer.

  It was time for another visit with our local witch.

  Chapter 7

  “Darkness and light, girl,” Kaye said, glowering at me. “When you get yourself into a pickle, you do so with both feet now don’t you?” Kaye turned to examine Jinx’s injuries, a bloodied knee from a fall on the ice, frown lines deepening. “And you, can’t you go one day without harming yourself?”

  Jinx winced as Kaye roughly slapped a poultice on her skinned knee. Jinx was always getting injured, and Kaye was a talented herbalist and healer, but the two didn’t mix well on a good day. With Kaye grumping about what we discovered in the alley, Jinx had found herself in the hot seat. As soon as Kaye turned her attention to me, Jinx limped away toward the hearth where Hob was pretending not to eavesdrop.

  “Someone is killing faeries, and using blood magic…and Marvin is missing,” I said, tossing my gloved hands in the air. “What was I supposed to do, go home?”

  Kaye sighed, letting go of some of her bluster. The old woman seemed to shrink with the motion, making her look tired and frail.

  “You’re right, dear,” she said. “But Leanansídhe? I didn’t think I’d see the day that faerie witch walked into my city. And from what you saw in your vision, she’s the reason the redcaps are here too.”

  I’d met a redcap and knew they were something to fear, especia
lly if the evil dagger-wielding monsters came in large numbers, but Leanansídhe wasn’t a name I was familiar with.

  “Who, or what, is Leanansídhe?” I asked.

  “Leanansídhe is a powerful faerie who lures men with her beauty and the promise of artistic success,” Kaye said. “The Fairy Mistress, as she is sometimes known, has appeared throughout history. She is the perfect muse, bringing musicians and artists to new heights.”

  “But?” I asked.

  I knew there was a catch. With faerie magic, there was always a catch.

  “She lifts them up, but when they crash, they die,” Kaye said, nodding. “Leanansídhe feeds off the frenzied life essence of her artist lovers, causing them to waste away. Not that her pets wouldn’t end up dead anyway. Her very presence makes men unstable, especially human males. The talent of these men may burn brightly, but there is a cost to burning a candle at both ends. When Leanansídhe tires of them, as she often does, her pets kill themselves rather than live without her. Leanansídhe is the reason why so many rising talents die young.”

  The faerie bitch sounded like a succubus, or a psychic vamp with benefits. And now she was acting crazy, or crazier than usual, wanting to bring one of her lovers back from the dead.

  “Is she a necromancer?” I asked.

  Kaye bit her lip and frowned.

  “Not exactly,” she said. “Leanansídhe’s magic has always been used to improve someone else’s creativity. But in some cases, of extreme writer’s block for example, it could be said that she brought the artist’s talent back from the dead. If her desire is great enough, and she is fueling her magic with blood and amplifying it with mistletoe, then it may be possible. Leanansídhe may indeed have the power to raise the dead.”

  I shivered, an oily sensation swimming across my gut, as I recalled Leanansídhe slipping her skeletal lover some tongue. Oh yeah, she had plenty of desire alright. I shook my head and tried to remember something helpful from my vision.

  “Leanansídhe mentioned ‘the tree’ and being nearly ready,” I said. “Do you think she meant the hamadryad’s tree?”

  “Yes,” she said. “I believe the tree and the timing are just as significant as the blood she’s been gathering. What do you know of the winter solstice?”

  “Isn’t that when you’re throwing your nudie party?” Jinx asked. Hob snickered over her shoulder.

  I winced, flinching under Kaye’s glare.

  “It’s the pagan holiday that the Christians appropriated for their Christmas, right?” I asked.

  “Near enough,” she said. “The winter solstice has been celebrated by man since Neolithic times, though the fae and other immortal races have acknowledged the significance of the solstice for millennia. It is the longest night of the year and a time of great magical power. Many have reveled in the darkness, while others have celebrated the winter solstice as a time of rebirth, noting the ever lengthening days that follow in its wake. Whether calling upon the darkness or worshiping the rebirth of the sun, practitioners come together as power gathers.”

  “So, it would be the perfect time to use dark magic to raise the dead,” I said. A night of power, darkness, and rebirth—sounded like a necromancer’s wet dream.

  “Yes,” Kaye said. “If Leanansídhe plans to resurrect her lover, the celestial calendar would be in her favor. There is also the mention of the tree. Many traditions include the burning of the Yule log in winter solstice celebrations. This comes from a very old ritual for harnessing power. In ancient times, a hamadryad’s tree was sacrificed to the fire. The tree would burn for twelve days, all the while a spell was cast and animal sacrifices were made, and on the twelfth night the magic was released and the spell complete.”

  “Are you saying that the Twelve Days of Christmas comes from some tree burning, goat sacrificing ritual?” Jinx asked.

  Jinx rolled her eyes, obviously not buying Kaye’s story. But I’d seen Kaye’s power and perused her library. I believed her.

  “Then the murders have all been part of Leanansídhe’s plan,” I said, putting the pieces together. Finally, the killings made sense. “She needed their blood to amplify the spell and their bodies for the sacrificial fire.”

  Not that there was a lot left of their bodies to sacrifice, after the redcaps filled their bellies.

  “And the hamadryad’s tree to fuel the fire,” Kaye said, nodding. Leanansídhe had killed two faeries with one stone with that murder, gaining the hamadryad for sacrifice and the tree for the ritual fire. “Leanansídhe must be stopped before the twelfth night. Once she is at the pinnacle of her power, the Faerie Mistress will be unstoppable.”

  Right, and what was to stop the crazy bitch from bringing back all of her dead pets? If she’d been alive for as long as Kaye said, then that was a lot of frenzied lovers. If Leanansídhe wasn’t stopped, she’d have an army of zombies by Christmas.

  And Marvin could be her next sacrificial lamb.

  “What do I need to do?” I asked.

  I thrust my chin out and dug in my heels. This Leanansídhe bitch had to be stopped and I was going to be the one to do it. If there was any chance of saving Marvin, then I was all in.

  I snuck a glance at Jinx. Worry lines wrinkled her brow, but she nodded. My friend wasn’t going to try to talk me out of this job. Good thing, since I’d already decided to rescue Marvin. I wasn’t going to let the kid down.

  The back door slammed open and we all gasped. Well, speak of the devil.

  Jinx yelped and bumped her head on the mantelpiece. Fortunately for her, Hob was too busy staring at the large figure in the doorway to scold her for marring his hearth. I just stood there gaping like a grindylow out of water.

  Marvin scratched his cheek and tilted his head to the side as he glanced around the room. His other hand, I noticed, was behind his back. What the heck was going on?

  “Marvin, be a dear and explain where you’ve been,” Kaye said. “Ivy has been looking all over the city for you. You were supposed to go shopping together.”

  Marvin rubbed his head shyly and looked away.

  “Sorry, Ivy,” he said.

  The shock of Marvin being alive, and whole, and here was wearing off. I blinked away tears and smiled.

  “That’s okay, kid,” I said. I’m just glad you’re alright.”

  “But where have you been?” Jinx asked, leaning in to examine the troll more closely.

  Sweat beaded on Marvin’s brow and he stepped back. Marvin looked ready to run.

  “Secret,” he said, shaking his head.

  Marvin had secrets? That was news to me. The kid was like an open book.

  “Give us a moment,” Kaye said, shooing us away.

  Hob slipped down into his home below the hearthstone and I headed out to the hallway. Jinx shrugged and followed. The door closed behind her with a whoosh of magic. Apparently, Kaye wanted some privacy while she interrogated Marvin about where he’d been.

  “Think she’ll chew him out?” she asked.

  “I feel bad for him if she does,” I said. “I wouldn’t want Kaye mad at me.”

  “She’s not so scary,” she said, shrugging and looking at her nails.

  “Really?” I asked. “Kaye could destroy your entire shoe collection with the snap of her fingers.”

  Jinx shuddered. “Okay, that’s scary.” She slumped against the plain, white wall of the hallway, tilted her head back, and shook thick bangs from her eyes. “Where do you think he was all that time?”

  “I don’t know,” I said with a sigh. “I’m just glad he’s safe.”

  “You going to stick with the case, now that Marvin’s back?” she asked.

  I thought about lovesick zombies roaming the streets of Harborsmouth, trying to please their Queen.

  “Yeah, but you should go home,” I said.

  “I’m not going home,” she said. Jinx pouted and crossed her arms. “I can help.”

  I tried to think of a reason for Jinx to be somewhere far away from redcaps, blood magic, and
a sex-crazed faerie muse turned necromancer.

  “Think of all the clients we’re losing with no one back at the office to answer the phones,” I said. Jinx was obsessed with our business success. Maybe that could work to my advantage. “You can switch the lines to take calls from the loft. It’ll be safer there…” She frowned at me. “…and you know how Forneus hates our apartment wards.”

  “True,” she said. “I guess I could work from the loft. But are you sure you won’t need my help tracking down this Leanansídhe chick?”

  “I’m good,” I said, crossing my fingers. “I’ve got Kaye to help me find Leanansídhe, but I need you to hold Private Eye together and keep our clients happy.”

  “Okay,” she said. “But I’m just a phone call away. Ring me if you need anything.”

  “Sure thing,” I said.

  Jinx swung her scarf over her shoulder and sauntered away. At the end of the hall, she stopped and turned back.

  “And if you get yourself killed, I’ll be the one using necromancy to bring you back to life, so I can kill you myself,” she said.

  With a final flip of her hair, Jinx was gone. I let out a sigh of relief. One friend, at least, would be safe. Now it was time to find out why Marvin was keeping secrets. I rapped on the kitchen door and walked back inside.

  Kaye loomed over Marvin who sat on a low stool, looking chagrined. I winced and hoped that the lecture was over. I didn’t want to get between Kaye and her target.

  “Come in, Ivy,” Kaye said.

  She didn’t turn to see who was standing in her kitchen, but somehow she knew it was me. I never knew with Kaye if it was magic or good instincts, but no one can sneak up on her. Not that I’ve ever tried. I’m impatient, but I’m not suicidal.

  I waved to Marvin and leaned against the large plank table that took up most of the hearth side of the room. The kitchen, surrounded by Kaye’s magic circle, was modern and bright, but the hearth area reminded me of an old pub. Not surprising with a brownie in charge of domestic duties. In fact, I wondered where the little guy was hiding. The old coot wasn’t usually timid—he had a badger’s short temper and the mind of an imp.