Tempests Fury

by Nicole Peeler

Page 39

 

  So it was easy for Blondie to talk about death and how to deal with it rearing its ugly head. It might be a fascinating concept for her, and presumably she could be killed under the right circumstances, but after all these years she wasn’t exactly dancing with death. She and death weren’t even sleeping in the same bedroom anymore.

  I said none of these things. Instead I said, “Yes, well, there haven’t been many opportunities for romance. ”

  “Romance?” The Original chortled, taking me literally. “Romance? Of course there’s no time for romance. But who needs it! Every single place we’ve stayed in has at least one good closet or wardrobe. ” She looked at me meaningfully. I looked back, confused, until my libido delicately pointed out the obvious.

  Nearly choking on my own tongue, I looked over at Anyan, worried that he would be nodding along with Blondie’s words. Maybe doing it in wardrobes was the thing to do when on a mission? It wasn’t exactly finding Narnia, but it was still good use of the space.

  Luckily, however, Anyan looked just as horrified at Blondie’s suggestion as I knew I did.

  Would he even fit in a wardrobe? I wondered.

  I dunno, but I’m willing to find out. My libido said, always ready to take one for the team.

  No, was my virtue’s only response. But it was a resounding no.

  “I remember this one battle, when there was no place that wasn’t covered with carnage for us to go, so we climbed the trees instead…” I listened to the Original regale us with stories of warrior-tree-sex with only half my attention. The rest of me was thinking through what Blondie had said. The fact was, I desperately wanted to be with Anyan, but mostly because he was Anyan. If we’d stayed in Rockabill and not had all this drama, we would definitely have been lovers since the night Blondie interrupted us.

  And yet, shouldn’t things be different, considering everything that was going on? This was end of the world stuff we were dealing with. Then I kicked myself, mentally. Everything, after all, that I’d been involved with over the past year had felt huge—from finding out about my mom’s supernatural heritage to becoming a part of this big conspiracy. There hadn’t been a moment that didn’t feel as if it were virtually the end of my world. So yeah, I had this new huge role, and there was this dragon running around, but I felt confident we’d handle it just as we had the other huge problems we’d dealt with. My role was certainly bigger now, but I was also stronger. Now that I thought about it, I felt less overwhelmed than I had with Ryu in those first days of our relationship, when I’d gone with him to the Compound. That had felt terrible—I’d been terrified, utterly alone, and totally out of my depth. Now I knew I was stronger, and I was used to overcoming big obstacles.

  “You might be right about the romance,” I blurted out, interrupting Blondie. “But I think we should still do things for the right reasons, rather than just because we can. ”

  Blondie arched an eyebrow. I blushed. Anyan’s nose twitched, then twitched again, then again. I thought it might twitch off.

  The Original was just about to come back with a retort when her phone made a honking sound, her ringtone for a text message. Anyan passed it over.

  “Hiral,” she said. “He needs us to meet him. He wants us now… he says it’s urgent. ” There was another honking sound and she moved the phone in order to see something horizontally rather than vertically, so it must have been a picture. Her face paled, she swore, and her phone was back in her pocket.

  Next second, she leaned over the aisle towards our strange bedfellows contingent.

  “Sorry folks. I’ve been playing by your rules, but desperate times and all that. I’ll call you shortly, let you know where we are so you can meet back up with us and spy properly. ”

  They looked confused as she held out her hands to Anyan and me. As soon as we took them, I felt the familiar whoosh of power that let me know we were being apparated. We ended up in the drawing room of the beautiful Brighton town house in which we’d stayed. The occupant, a wealthy nahual-halfling, looked up hastily from where he sat on his sofa, perusing the Guardian. Apparating was only really safe for places a person knew well, so we hadn’t been able to go to Hiral directly. But the gwyllion must be in Brighton or Blondie wouldn’t have brought us back here.

  “Sorry,” Blondie said, as the man put aside his paper. “We’ve got trouble at the Blackwell Estate. Can we borrow your car?”

  Within minutes we were purring along in a beautiful old Rolls-Royce. Considering we’d destroyed everything else we’d touched—including entire buildings—since we’d crossed the pond, I was keeping my fingers crossed the car survived the trip. After driving for about thirty minutes down sleepy country roads, through a few villages that looked perfect for murder intrigue à la Agatha Christie, we pulled the car over and parked. Reading directions from her phone, Blondie led us out of the car and across the lovely, expansive field to our right. The very, very expansive field to our right.

  We walked for at least as long as we were in the car, cutting across various fields. I could tell we were nearing the sea—my selkie senses tingling at the nearby ocean.

  “Where are we going?” I asked, finally. Both Anyan and I were so used to following Blondie around we’d not bothered till the walk was starting to get a bit ridiculous. I was built for comfort, not for speed.

  “Hiral’s found the enemy,” the Original said, grimly.

  “Morrigan?” I asked.

  “And her followers,” she said.

  “Followers?” Anyan asked.

  Blondie’s only response was a tight nod, her face grim. But she also passed Anyan her phone after tapping away at its screen.

  The swearing that came out of his mouth was almost operatic in both tone and passion. I was almost afraid to look at what had made him so upset, when he handed me Blondie’s cell.

  Usually blessed with a thoroughly piratical panache for the expletives, I couldn’t even swear at what I saw. Instead I stopped dead, staring.

  “Are those…?” I started, unable to continue.

  “Supernatural warriors come to do the Red’s bidding? Yes,” Blondie said.

  I handed her back her phone, scampering along beside her, praying that what we’d seen was a distortion of the truth. Some trick of Hiral’s phone, or the distance, or something.

  But as we climbed a steep, rocky little outcrop, coming to rest on our bellies so we could peer over it, my heart dropped.

  That’s no trick of the light, I thought. That’s an army.

  We were lying on an outcropping that overlooked a huge drop towards a valley cut deep into the British seaside. The ocean was to our right, bright and glittering in the very late-afternoon sun. The stone beach led up to a smoothly grassed lawn, and then up to a vast country estate.

  Well, I assume the lawn was smoothly grassed. Or it had been. Because now, surrounding everything, were hundreds of tents and trailers. Everything was precisely lined up, and I could see—even from that distance—various supes sparring or working out around the perimeter of the encampment.

  There were a crowd of satyrs all standing around as two of their lot sparred with each other, enchanting their horns so that they were doing the magical version of that Wild America rams-fighting scene.

  In another group, goblins were paired off, dueling with a variety of nasty looking weapons, all charged and glowing with mojo.

  Even in the skies, a group of harpies dove at one another, while another group of what looked like angels—human bodies paired with a motley assortment of wings—but I assumed were nahuals practiced flying.

  “Wait, why are they all separated by faction?” I asked, finally processing what I was seeing.

  “I dunno,” Blondie responded, her pert features tight in a frown. “That’s new. The Red and the White never cared about factions or anything like that, before. They were all for wholesale slaughter, after all. ”

&nb
sp; “That must be the influence of Morrigan,” Anyan said.

  “Which means she is in there, somewhere,” I added.

  “It’s like that, all around,” squeaked a new voice: Hiral’s. He’d popped up right next to me—uncloaking or whatever he did, without any warning. I was so intent on the sight in front of me, however, that I didn’t even jump.

  “Who are they?” I breathed. “And why are they here?”

  “They’re here to follow the Red and the White,” said the gwyllion. Even his funny, high-pitched voice sounded grim.

  “What do you mean, ‘follow?’ ” Who the hell would be stupid enough to hitch their wagon to primordial forces of chaos?

  Blondie sighed, shaking her head. I couldn’t tell if she was frustrated with my questions or the people below us.

  “It happens every time. Some are religious zealots—we’re just like humans, and we have our nuts who want to see the end of the world. Some just follow whatever appears to be the most powerful thing in the room. ”

  “And some are idiots,” Anyan finished.

  At that point, I felt a bit like I was having some sort of medical issue. My skin had gone clammy and my heart was beating incredibly quickly. All I could see were all those supes… that army.