The Faerie King

by Ash Fitzsimmons

  “Who do I think I am?” Joey replied, keeping the pistol trained on Doran’s chest. “I am Joseph Percival Bolin. The dragon rider. The knight of the red cross. And this is your chance to beg for mercy.”

  Doran looked at me imploringly, but I sat silent and frozen, and Joey shifted his grip on the handle. “I’m not a patient man, you little bastard. Now beg.”

  My brother was heaving to draw breath, but he managed to gurgle, “Please.”

  Joey nodded once, curtly, then bent down and fired a third round between Doran’s eyes. He died almost instantly, and Joey stepped off of him, staring at the corpse as if to be sure it was cooling. Before he could holster his gun, however, a wall of force flung him into the stone wall beside me, and behind it was Meggy, screaming as she readied the fire in her hands.

  Joey lived that morning only thanks to Toula’s reflexes. Before Meggy could throw the building fireball, Toula appeared at her side and tackled her to floor, shouting for her to be still. To my surprise, Helen ran up the aisle behind her and straight to Joey—though not before looking over her shoulder and telling Aiden to stay the hell back. She dropped to her knees beside him, laid him flat, and began patting his cheeks, trying to keep him conscious.

  I stood as if in a trance, looking from the battered seminarian to my dead brother, to Toula, who had by then wrestled Meggy into a headlock and shoved her into enchanted sleep, and I heard Oberon start to laugh. Softly and slowly, as Doran’s blood congealed and Helen ripped Joey’s shirt open to look for damage, he laughed and laughed.

  CHAPTER 20

  * * *

  Later that morning, as Helen mended Joey’s cracked ribs and Meggy lingered on in forced sleep, Oberon found me in my office with Toula and brushed in past Val. “You knew he was going to kill you,” he said by way of greeting. “I mean, it was obvious. You didn’t seriously consider it, did you?”

  I shook my head and poured myself another three fingers of bourbon—a raw spirit, briefly aged and still tasting strongly of corn and ethanol, which was what I needed then. “If he’d actually been able to deliver on those promises…”

  Oberon grunted and flopped onto the couch beside Toula, then propped his sandals on the coffee table. “He’d still have killed you. And I doubt he could have fully bound you, anyway, let alone throw in an expiration date.” I frowned, and he explained, “You’re too old, boy. Take aside what Faerie gives you, and you’re still too strong. Those binds work on the young—your little girlfriend should know,” he added with a smirk, “but for someone with a few centuries on him? Good luck crafting something permanent. No, he’d only have weakened you, but he’d kill you long before you realized he couldn’t do anything in the long term.”

  “Unless he’s ancient,” Toula countered.

  “He would have to be older than I am,” said Oberon, “and if he’s of Mab, that’s impossible.” His hand suddenly held a sweating bottle of beer, and he drank with relish. “Mab was the eldest of us, but only by a year or so. This Geheret probably hasn’t seen a millennium.” His glance shifted to Toula, and he added, “Brothers are such fun, aren’t they?”

  “Mab may have birthed me,” she muttered in reply, “but I’m under no obligation to claim the rest of her children. Present company excepted,” she said, lifting her eyes to Val, who remained on guard at the door.

  Oberon looked curiously at my captain, then drank again. “Ah, right,” he said when he came up for air. “I’d forgotten about that one. Finally figured it out, did you, boy?” he called toward the door. “How long did it take?”

  Val remained unruffled by the taunting. “Geheret’s lineage is no concern of mine, my lord,” he said, keeping his eyes on the window.

  I studied his profile, noting the way he ground his teeth as he avoided directly watching us. “Something’s troubling you, Val.”

  His dark eyes flicked to mine, then back to the window. “Nothing unexpected. Would you hear my counsel?”

  “Gladly,” I sighed into my bourbon.

  “If you can’t be dissuaded from charging into the Gray Lands, then take action as soon as Joey’s whole. Strike while Geheret is still uncertain of Doran’s whereabouts. He’ll be less likely to raise his defenses if he thinks you’re considering his ‘offer.’”

  “That was my thought, too. But only once Joey’s healed and rested, and Aiden needs sleep as well.” I considered my drink for a moment, then asked Toula, “How long can you keep Meggy down?”

  “As long as we need,” she said, giving me a strange look. “She may be fighting it, but she’s too weak to break it, especially if I keep checking my work. That said,” she mused, “the longer I keep this up, the more pissed she’s going to be when she wakes. What did you have in mind?”

  “We do this without her,” I said, and downed my drink.

  Toula waited while I poured another refill, then said, “She’d never forgive you.”

  “I know.”

  “And that’s her child’s life on the line. Moyna may be a pain in the ass, but by God, she’s Meggy’s pain in the ass. If something were to go wrong…”

  She let the unspoken linger, and I broke the silence when the alcohol burn had faded. “I don’t feel confident about this,” I said slowly. “At all. For all we know, Moyna doesn’t wish to be rescued, and she’ll fight us every step of the way. I don’t like trusting Aiden for ammunition. I don’t like the fact that Joey’s probably going to get blasted off his lizard before she makes her first attack, and I really don’t like the fact that the rest of my siblings are waiting there for me. We’re pumping magic in,” I continued, staring into my glass. “What would stop them from using it, too? Or any of Mab’s court, any of them old enough to remember Faerie—we’re practically tossing them swords.”

  “Are you moping, or do you have a better idea?” asked Oberon.

  “No and no,” I muttered, “and what are you still doing here? You made your point—Meggy’s not going to trouble you. Go home.”

  He chuckled as he leaned into the cushions, and one sandal began to flap back and forth against his tanned foot. “Go back and miss this little debacle? Why would I do that?”

  “Well, then,” Toula interrupted, “as long as you’re hanging out, maybe you could, oh, I don’t know, give us a damn hand.”

  Oberon grinned—a genuine smile, which somehow made it all the more unsettling. “And there’s the Mab I remember. Nice to see at least one of you got something of her,” he said, turning again to look at Val. “It’s difficult to say whether a half-breed will be of any use at all, you know. Mortal blood so often seems to water everything down beyond recognition. You’re…weaker,” he said, pausing to take a drink and fix me with a calculated stare. “Slower. Consumed with trivialities—affections, sentimentality. It’s a wonder you accomplish anything, truly it is.”

  Toula propped her head on her arm and snorted. “You done, bub?”

  “For the nonce. But here, Coileán, a gift,” he continued, gesturing to me with his bottle. “You want good counsel, boy? Leave the brat where she is. Either Geheret will take care of the matter for you or she’ll crawl back tuck-tailed and you can show her a taste of your dear mother’s hospitality.”

  I shrugged, ignoring the bait. “And as for Meggy?”

  He finished his beer, and the bottle vanished. “To hell with her. Let her sleep until the end of time, for all it concerns me. Just keep her off my island.”

  It was Val’s turn to grunt—softly, almost imperceptibly—but Toula, who had listened impassively, shared little of her brother’s reservation. “Meanwhile, in the land of Working with the Variables You’ve Got, your advice is bullshit. I’m going to go wake Megs while there’s still a chance she’ll speak to me after this, and we’re going to get Moyna back once everyone’s in one piece again. And if you’d like to help save your granddaughter from probable peril, well, I’m sure no one would stand in your way.”

  Oberon turned to me with a smirk. “She has a tongue, doesn’t she
? Shall I silence it for you? I’m feeling unusually generous today.”

  From the corner of my eye, I watched Val disappear and instantly flicker back into existence behind Oberon, poised and waiting for a word.

  “Toula is my guest,” I told Oberon. “You are not. Remember that.”

  He laughed in mockery, and I picked up my glass from its resting place, ignoring him. “As soon as Aiden and Joey are ready,” I muttered, cutting my eyes to Val and Toula in turn. “But to be frank, getting Moyna back alive can’t be our first priority.” The others regarded me in silence, and I drank to quiet the part of me that sat in condemnation of the whole.

  Toula was right: I couldn’t in good conscience keep Meggy asleep until the deed was done, one way or another, and so I asked Toula to bring her back gently. Meggy had come around by late afternoon, and the realm warned me just before she stormed into my office, dirty and seething. “How dare you,” was all she said before she slammed the door behind her.

  Meggy wasn’t shouting, but I understood the murderous look in her eye far too well. “You were going to kill him,” I said, gesturing to the couches in invitation. “I couldn’t let you do that.”

  She ignored my offer and remained standing, arms akimbo and voice rising. “That was our chance to get Olive back, and he shot the messenger!”

  I sighed and rubbed my forehead. “That offer was nothing but a lie. He was never going to return her.”

  “You don’t know that! You can’t!”

  “I can, and I do.” I looked up at her over my desk, watching her face redden. “Honey, if I thought for a second that I could have gotten her back that way—and kept us all alive in the aftermath—I’d have taken the deal.”

  She regarded me in angry silence, then shook her head and took a seat. “You can believe any lie if you tell yourself it’s the truth often enough, can’t you?” I said nothing, and she stared at the wall and muttered, “How is he?”

  “On the mend. He should be well by dinner, and once Aiden’s ready, we’ll make the assault.” After a moment’s hesitation to test her mood, I rose and took the opposite couch, but Meggy wouldn’t look at me. “I don’t want you going along—and listen to me first,” I added in a rush as her mouth opened. “Val, Toula, and I practiced last night. We’re going to have Helen at the gate with Aiden, and Joey and Georgie are going to try an aerial attack. You haven’t tested yourself with the setup, and…” I chose my words carefully, watching her eyes narrow. “Meggy, you’re not strong enough. You’re young, you’re still getting your footing—”

  “And Toula’s not?” she retorted.

  “Toula is a lucky freak of nature, and she has her Arcanum training to guide her,” I replied. “If all she does over there is cast spells, we’ll still be in a decent position. But there’s so much you don’t know yet, and in a situation like this…I’m sorry, but you’d do more harm than good.”

  She held her hands a few inches apart and waited while a spark appeared. I watched the little fire grow between her palms for a solid half-minute until it approximated a decent missile, and she snapped, “You think I can’t handle myself? You think I’m weak?”

  My shield manifested well before her ragged fireball hit, and as I lowered it, I instantly produced twin spheres of blue flame in my open hands. “Can you shield?” I asked her, letting each swell to the size of a basketball. Meggy nodded, but I felt the lie in her thoughts and extinguished my ammunition. “You’re not safe, and you’re not going.”

  “That’s not your decision.”

  “Actually, yes, it is.”

  Her eyes rolled to the ceiling. “Going to pull rank on me, Colin? Really?”

  “I will if it means keeping you in one piece.”

  She pushed herself off the couch and glowered down at me. “I don’t need you to protect me. I’m not a child, and the sooner you get that through your head, the better off we’ll both be. I’m going after Olive, end of discussion.”

  “Meggy—”

  “End of discussion.” She crossed her arms and studied the tapestry behind my head while I tried to formulate an argument that wouldn’t make matters worse. Just as I thought I’d found a way in, she muttered, “I think we need a break.”

  That took me by surprise, and my planned remarks fell apart as I scrambled for an answer. “What sort of break?” was all I managed.

  “We need to see other people. Colin, I…” Meggy hugged herself more tightly and again refused to meet my eyes. “As soon as I’ve got Olive safe with me again, I’m selling the store and moving back to Phoenix. Maybe there’s still time for me to mend fences with my family, you know? In any case, I’m getting us out of this game.”

  “What game?”

  “This. All of this. I, uh…I’m not sure what I want yet, but I know it’s not here.”

  “All right…”

  She forced herself to face me. “And it’s not with you. I’m sorry, but…I don’t think this is going to work.”

  I stared back at her, flabbergasted and feeling rather like I’d been punched in the stomach, simultaneously shocked and sick. “Meggy, honey, you’ve had a long week and—”

  “And I’ve had time to think. I had plenty of time while you two were holding me down today. I had time last night when Oberon refused to talk to me. I had time all weekend when my daughter wouldn’t speak to me.” She sighed deeply and looked away, but her eyes remained dry. “If you love me—if you ever loved me—then bring Olive back. Bind her, take her memories away, do whatever you have to do, but bring my Olive back. We’re going to start over, just the two of us. Like it was supposed to be.”

  My chest clenched. “And in a few years, when she’s on her own and realizes she isn’t normal? What then?”

  “She won’t as long as I keep a glamour on us both.”

  “Eventually—”

  She brushed me aside. “Yes, yes, eventually, but not for years—and by then, everything will be all right again between us.”

  “Meggy,” I began, then paused with the words still on my tongue, unspoken: this is a terrible idea. “Meggy…I love you. You know I love you.”

  “See, that’s the problem—you don’t.” Meggy moved around to the back of the couch, widening the moat of furniture between us. “Maybe you loved me at twenty. We both know you lusted after me,” she added with a shrug. “But me, now—Colin, I’m not that girl you knew in Coleridge. I haven’t been that girl in a long time, and you…you show up again and act like nothing’s changed,” she said, picking up speed, “like I’ve been frozen all this time, waiting for you to waltz back into my life. Well, I haven’t been frozen, you know? I’ve grown up,” she added, punctuating the declaration with raised brows. “And you’re not good for me.”

  I sat there, telling myself I should stand, at least to lessen the feeling that I was being lectured like a foolish child, but I couldn’t seem to will my legs into action. “You said you loved me,” I mumbled, hearing how pathetic that sounded even as the words spilled out. “You said…I thought you said—”

  “I thought I did. Maybe I’m also pretty good at lying to myself,” she said softly. “I mean, yeah, I wanted you, but I needed Jack. Understand?”

  “No, I—”

  “Jack was good for me,” she pressed on before I could finish. “Solid. Normal. He would have been a good father.”

  “Maybe if he weren’t dead,” I shot back, too angry to worry about delicacy.

  The attack fizzled. “I never said he was the brightest, but…” She frowned at the middle distance, putting form to her thoughts, then said, “Jack didn’t have all the answers. Neither did I. But you…hell, you don’t know what you’re doing half the damn time, but you act like you do. And if I disagree, well, it’s ‘run along and play, little girl, let the grownups talk.’ I mean, for crying out loud,” she said, sounding more annoyed by the second, “you still call me Meggy like I’m in grade school. My own mother calls me Meg by now.”

  She shook her head brusquel
y, then watched for a moment while I floundered for a reply. “I want an equal,” she continued. “A partner. And we can lie to ourselves about it as hard as we might, but we’re never going to get to that point. I tried, Colin,” she continued, gripping the back of the couch. “And we had some fun, didn’t we?” she asked with a lame half-smile. “The last few months were nice, more or less—and don’t get me wrong, you’re not half bad in the sack. But that’s not enough. I…” She paused to draw and release a long breath. “I don’t want you to protect me, I don’t want you to hold my hand and save me from myself and everything else, I don’t want the rage and the politics and the monsters—I just want Olive back, and I want you to let me figure life out on my own. Okay?”

  No, I should have said, that’s not okay, I love you, I want you, I need you, tell me how to make it better, I’m sorry, I’ll do better, I’ll be better.

  But the old rage was building, the blinding, burning anger, and I heard myself mutter, “Okay,” as I pushed myself off the couch.

  “Maybe…you know, down the line,” she said, offering the lie of hope. “Give me a few years. Let’s see how things go with Olive.”

  “Okay, Meg. If that’s what you want.”

  She released her hold on the couch and stepped back a pace as her brows drew together. “Are you, uh…are you all right?”

  I was keeping myself in check only through total concentration, but somehow, I felt a faint pressure in my palms, more annoyance than pain. Glancing down, I saw that my hands had clenched into white-knuckled fists, and that my nails, short and dull as they were, had ripped open half-moon gashes in my skin. I watched the bloody trickles merge and begin to drip off my wrists with complete detachment, as if contemplating a tastefully subdued wound in a painting, then lifted my gaze to Meggy and saw the uncertainty in her eyes.

  “Please leave,” I said, fighting the growing pressure in my head.