by E.J. Stevens
A flash of brown caught my eye, moving along the shelf by Marvin’s elbow. Sneaky little bugger. Marvin was still holding something behind his back and Hob was trying to get a look. I shook my head. Curiosity would get the best of a brownie every time.
“That’s enough, Hob,” Kaye said, spearing the brownie with her stare. “Now, Marvin, I know you wanted your gift to be a surprise, but Ivy has had a bad day. Perhaps you could give her your present early?”
Hob’s eyes bugged out at the mention of a gift, but he remained where he was. Smart brownie.
Marvin swallowed and held a small bundle out before him. In his large hand was a beautiful pair of gloves.
“For me?” I asked. I sniffed and wiped at the back of my eyes with my sleeve. Jeesh, the wind had been really cold in that alley. Hopefully, I wasn’t getting sick.
Marvin nodded and a red hue rose to his cheeks. I stepped forward, but hesitated. Clothing was tricky, since it went against my bare skin, and gloves were the most difficult. If there was a nightmare vision attached to these gloves, I could end up a drooling mess for the holidays. But Marvin was my friend, and I was the closest thing to family the kid had.
I reached out and gingerly lifted the gloves from his palm, trying to smooth a smile across my face.
“Thanks, big guy,” I said. I took a deep breath and pulled off the glove I was wearing and slipped one of the new ones on. It fit…like a glove. And there were no horrible visions attached. In fact, there was something about the gloves that felt familiar.
“Marvin went to a lot of trouble to have those made especially for you,” Kaye said. “Clurichauns are drunkards and fools, but their tailoring skills rival the infamous cobbler skills of their leprechaun cousins.”
I now owned clurichaun crafted gloves? I smiled. That was kind of cool.
“Too drunk for bad thoughts,” Marvin said, nodding.
“Yes, clurichauns remain much too inebriated to leave unhappy energy or focused visions on their wares,” Kaye said. “And Marvin was clever. He asked Jinx for a piece of leather from an old coat you were donating to Goodwill. That way the material itself would not harm you either.”
I always knew that Marvin was smarter than he looked. Now I was convinced the kid was a genius.
“Wow, that’s brilliant, Marvin,” I said. I flashed the kid a smile. “Thanks. These are the best present ever.”
For the first time in years, I actually meant it. Too bad I couldn’t revel in the happy moment.
“So,” I said, turning to Kaye. “Any idea how I can track down this Leanansídhe bitch before the solstice?”
Unfortunately, Kaye did have an idea. I just didn’t like it much. Great, another scary fae to track down. Why does it always have to be a hag?
Chapter 8
I kicked a chunk of ice from the edge of the curb and yelped. Taking my frustration out on the frozen landscape wasn’t helping. If I hadn’t been wearing steel toe boots, I’d be nursing a broken foot.
I stuffed gloved hands into my coat pockets and kept my head down as I continued up the darkening street. I was entering the financial district, a small, but prosperous section of the city hemmed in by corporate glass monstrosities. Looking up at the skyscrapers only gave me vertigo, so I kept my eyes at street level.
The wrought iron and cobbled streets of the Old Port had been replaced by ugly chrome and concrete. Every block of the financial district looked the same with its glossy, high-end boutiques, towering law offices, and a Starbucks on every corner.
“We’re not in Kansas anymore,” I muttered.
“No, you are in Harborsmouth,” a familiar voice rumbled from the shadows. “But, then, you knew that already.”
I turned to see Forneus emerge from the doorway of a large insurance company. He ran a hand down his expensive suit and fell into step beside me. I sidled away, prepared to run into the sea of rush hour traffic flowing up Congress Street if it meant avoiding his touch.
“What are you doing here?” I asked. I stopped walking and spun to face him, tapping my foot.
“Working,” Forneus said. He spread his arms and gestured at the glass and concrete buildings that lined the street. “A demon has to harvest souls somewhere. And contrary to popular belief, lawyers and insurance agents do indeed have souls to sell.”
Great. Forneus was down here playing Let’s Make A Deal with corporate workaholics while I froze my butt off trying to find a certain faerie hag. Something cold and wet found its way down the neck of my coat and I shivered. It wasn’t fair. As we stood on the sidewalk, snowflakes fell around Forneus, but never managed to land on the demon.
“Don’t let Kaye find out you’re down here stealing souls,” I said. I narrowed my eyes and gripped a silver cross in my gloved hand. In my other pocket, I scooped up a palm full of salt.
“Steal?” he asked. “You wound me deeply, Miss Granger. I can assure you that any deal I make is legally sound.”
Yeah, right, and I’m the son of Oberon.
“Look, you were right about the killings,” I said. “Someone is murdering faeries. So I don’t have time to stand around here and grow icicles. I’ll see you around, Forneus.”
“Wait,” he said. “I know the location of the one you seek.”
“Leanansídhe?” I asked.
“Ah, so that is who has been killing faeries,” he said. “No, sadly I do not know where to find the Faerie Mistress, but I can lead you to the Winter Hag.”
Crap. Forneus had known about the Winter Hag, but not Leanansídhe. Sneaky demon bastard.
“What makes you think I’d trust you?” I asked. “I’m not making a deal for information. No dates with Jinx, remember?”
“You trusted my information about the killer,” he said, grinning. “As for the location of The Cailleach, take it as a token of my friendship.”
Friendship? With a demon? I laughed.
“You have to be kidding,” I said. “What’s in it for you, really?”
Forneus sighed and I held my breath as the smell of sulfur filled the street.
“Fine,” he said, straightening his tie. “I may have a tidy sum riding on the outcome of this case. But such trivial details do not matter. Find the Winter Hag and stop the killings. She can be found gathering wood and feeding the deer in the park.”
Forneus pointed in the direction of Founders Park. When Kaye said she sensed the magic of the Winter Hag in the financial district, I’d never thought to check the park. My friend had described The Cailleach as a strong elemental force who was often referred to as the Queen of Winter, though not to be mistaken with Mab herself. I assumed the hag must have been some corporate president or CEO—an ice queen in her glass tower.
Instead, she sounded like one of the homeless who called Founders Park their home.
I turned back to Forneus, but the demon had disappeared. Whatever. I shrugged and hurried down the sidewalk to where Congress Street was bisected by Park Avenue. The financial district had emptied during my talk with Forneus and Park Ave was devoid of any human presence. The only sign of life being the well lit Starbucks on the corner.
I could go for a real cup of coffee, especially after the nasty stuff Jinx had served this morning, but it was already getting late. I needed to find The Cailleach before midnight. Magic users weren’t the only ones whose power grew during the Witching Hour and Kaye had warned me that the Winter Hag was a cyclical force that waxed and waned with the seasons and the hours of the day. I wanted information, not to find myself on the receiving end of a transformation spell. Becoming one of The Cailleach’s pet deer was not part of my plan.
I shivered and hurried down the street, careful not to slip on the icy sidewalk. Congress Street ran on a high ridge, the backbone of the city. Every street that ran away from Congress slanted steeply downwards, and Park Ave was no exception. As I descended toward the park, the harbor wind at my back ceased.
I scanned the street for assailants then shifted my attention to the park. Crossing th
e empty street, I warily approached the park entrance. Keeping my charms and makeshift stakes handy, I watched the trees for movement, but the only motion came from flickering shadows beneath a humming streetlight.
Lengthening shadows reached like skeletal fingers as the sun began to set behind the trees. I clutched the iron nails in my pocket and crept forward on the balls of my feet. I searched the darkness below the trees one more time and, satisfied that nothing supernatural lurked there, stepped onto the frozen grass. The gates hung open like a yawning grave and nothing stirred as I entered Founders Park.
It was like entering another world.
The sounds of city life drifted away, replaced by dead air. A heavy silence smothered the park, broken only by a high pitched squeak as a hunched figure came toward me pushing a rusty shopping cart. The sun retreated and the ice covered pond snapped as a thick layer of frozen water shifted. I jumped and the old crone cackled.
I had found The Cailleach.
I cleared my throat and stepped into a pool of light cast by the flickering street lamp. The hag lifted her head and my stomach heaved. A dark socket was all that was left of her right eye. The other eye stared at me over a large, beaklike nose and her skin was an unhealthy shade of blue. The Cailleach was half my height and her body was bent forward under the weight of a large bundle strapped to her back. The stooped position forced the old crone to twist her neck at an uncomfortable angle to look me in the eye.
The Cailleach was completely unlike the water hags I’d dealt with in the past. Hopefully, that meant she was less crazy than her swamp-dwelling cousins.
The Winter Hag lifted a bag of dried corn and flashed a toothless grin.
“Hungry?” she asked.
The old crone was trying to feed me deer food? Okay, maybe she was mad as a hatter.
“Um, no thanks,” I said.
I shuffled my feet wondering how to begin. Asking faerie favors was tricky. A faerie bargain was binding and immortality gave the fae a long time to practice their deal making skills. I had learned the hard way that faeries will always get the upper hand. The trick wasn’t winning so much as surviving.
And I didn’t have time for haggling.
“Too bad,” she said. The Cailleach sighed and tucked the bag of corn into the folds of her rag dress. “You would have made a lovely pet.”
Mab’s bones, she really did want to turn me into one of her pet deer. My chest tightened and I struggled to breathe normally. This wasn’t the time for a panic attack. I shook my head and focused on the job. I needed to learn the location of Leanansídhe’s lair and get the hell out of Dodge.
“I can bring you more deer food, for information on where I can find Leanansídhe,” I said.
I planted my feet hip width apart and took a deep breath. My gloved hands were cramping, but I held tightly to my anti-fae charms. If this went down badly, I’d have to fight or run.
The Cailleach rummaged through her cart, finally finding whatever it was she was looking for.
“This will lead you to the Faerie Mistress,” she said. She held out a hotel key in a gnarled hand. “But human food will not sate my pets. If you wish to strike this bargain, I require a branch from the hamadryad’s tree. Fetch me a branch before the Yule log fully burns or face my wrath. That is my offer.”
Crap, what were the odds that I could do as she asked? But what choice did I have? I needed to find Leanansídhe before she unleashed her zombie lovers on the world. Talk about a Christmas gift from Hell. I lifted my chin and nodded curtly.
“Deal,” I said.
The hag raised her hand and cackled, the laugh ending in a phlegm-filled cough. The hotel key fell to the frost covered ground. With a squeak of the rusty cart, The Cailleach lurched away, the bundle of sticks on her back rocking to and fro as she shuffled deeper into the park.
Was the key the clue, or did it require a vision? I skirted the key like a viper, finally hunching down and slipping a glitter topped pencil from my belt. I slid the pencil through the key ring and lifted it to the streetlight. A fancy crest and the words “Bishop Hotel” gleamed dully in the flickering light. I’d sniff around there and see if anyone had seen any suspicious activity. Maybe the Faerie Mistress was staying there and the key led to Leanansídhe’s room.
It was a start.
Chapter 9
One thing was painfully obvious as I strode up the steps of the Bishop Hotel. No one had occupied a room here in years. The door hung open, the frame swollen and warped from damp and disuse.
I pushed the door open wider with the toe of my boot and peeked inside. Black mold climbed the walls, marring the elaborate wallpaper and draperies. The lobby was lit only by light from the street lamps outside that filtered in through the open door and a broken window gaping above a second-floor balcony.
I flicked on a mini Maglite and shone it around the room. The floor looked sound, though I avoided the decaying carpet runner as I stepped into the room. I covered my face with a gloved hand and stifled a sneeze. Dust rose in amber clouds as I tiptoed further into the hotel lobby.
I shone my light along the floor where small feet had walked back and forth through the dust, a large object dragged between them. Someone, probably Leanansídhe’s redcap henchmen, had been here recently.
I followed the tracks, careful not to make a sound as I walked past a marble counter and into a dark service passage. The hallway was wide, but unadorned. An old laundry cart stood beside a metal door farther down the hall to my right and a storeroom spilling its contents into the corridor was to my left.
I stepped over the abandoned bottles of cleaner and rolls of toilet paper that prior thieves hadn’t wanted and followed the dusty prints down the hall toward the laundry cart. I stood on tiptoe and peered inside the small window inset into the metal door. Stairs led down into impermeable darkness.
Great, it looked like the redcaps were holing up in the basement. I reached out with a gloved hand and tried the doorknob, surprised when it turned easily. I turned my head to the side and examined the door. It wasn’t locked. Leanansídhe was either sloppy or confident that she and her redcaps could deal with any intruders.
Or maybe the faerie was just too crazy to care.
My stomach tensed and I forced myself into motion. Standing in the spooky old hallway wasn’t doing me any good. Plus, I had to locate the hamadryad’s tree, and remove a branch for The Cailleach, before it burned completely. Sadly, amorous zombies weren’t my only worry. If Leanansídhe was successful, and the Yule log burned to ash, I’d have no way of fulfilling my end of the bargain with the Winter Hag. I shivered, icy fingers trailing up and down my spine. That was one old crone I didn’t want to break a deal with.
I pulled the metal door open and let the narrow beam from my flashlight shine down the stairway. I gasped and lurched back, distancing myself from the mass of spider webs that clung to the ceiling and walls. The redcaps had come this way, but they were pint-sized compared to my height. The webs had only been cleared as high as my knees.
Why did it always have to be spiders?
A memory of the spider “cloth merchant” on Joysen Hill crept in unbidden. The carnivorous faerie had used his glamour to cover his terrifying visage, and the bodies of his prey, from human eyes. Unfortunately for me, my second sight allowed me to cut through his glamour to see the men and women wrapped in spider silk, hanging from the fire escape above his market stall. The image of wriggling human-sized snacks dangling above the spider faerie had haunted my dreams for weeks.
I swallowed hard and rubbed my gloved hands along my arms. I could do this. There were no man-eating spider fae here. It was just a bunch of old cobwebs, right? I took a shuddering breath and crept down the stairs, moving as fast as I could without alerting the entire basement of my presence.
“It’s just cotton candy,” I muttered.
Something skittered along a web to my left and I cringed. I pulled the collar of my coat up higher and kept moving. At the bottom of the stair
s, I took a shuddering breath and shook web from my hands and hair.
Waiting for my eyes to adjust to the dim light, I studied the smells of mildew, wood smoke, and decay. A hint of detergent hung on the air and I realized the large objects to my far left were washing machines. My eyes continued to adjust to the darkness and I confirmed that this was the laundry room for the hotel. Industrial washers and dryers lined one wall and a large steamer sat like a metal gargoyle in the center of the room.
I crouched down and circuited the steamer and folding tables. Something let out a raucous laugh and tinny chamber music played in the room beyond. I froze, but when no one came looking for me, I continued forward.
Beyond the laundry room was a cavernous space. The walls were rough brick lined with exposed plumbing and wiring for the hotel above. A large furnace was the focal point of the room. The metal beast billowed smoke where it rose from the dirt floor, but someone had tried to make the place homey—if you lived in a Victorian parlor.
I inched further into the room, keeping to the shadows, to get a better view. Velvet fainting couches lined the walls beside small tables covered in doilies and photographs of people sleeping. In coffins? Scratch that, they weren’t sleeping. The people in the gilt frames were dead. That wasn’t creepy or anything.
But the creep factor didn’t stop there. Redcaps surrounded the large furnace. The door of the furnace hung open, a large tree protruding from its fiery maw. The redcaps looked like red ants climbing up and down a series of ropes to where a metal spit hung over the burning tree. Taking turns, the redcaps cranked a lever, turning the items on the spit over and over again.
