Vault of Shadows

by Jonathan Maberry

  “Why? What was that? Who were they? I mean, they were Nightsiders, right?”

  “Yes . . . and no. They are what you would call ‘supernatural,’ but they are not like us. Not like my friends, or my family.”

  “Then what are they?”

  “They are the Aes Sídhe. They are faerie folk who live deep beneath the world. Or perhaps it would make more sense to you if I said they live beyond our world. Apart from it.”

  “That doesn’t actually help,” said Milo. “Isn’t Halflight a faerie?”

  “Halflight is a sprite. Mook and Oakenayl are spirits of the earth, or elementals. Before today you never met a true faerie, and it was almost your doom to have encountered them.”

  “Why? I thought faeries were cool. Tinkerbell and like that.”

  “Don’t be stupid, Milo. I’m talking the real world.”

  “Um. Sure. Okay.”

  “There are many kinds of faerie folk, Milo,” said Evangelyne. “Most live so completely apart from the rest of the world that you could see them and never know. Others, some of the higher Courts of Faerie, are part of my world, and many of them went into the realms of shadow when the Swarm invaded the Earth. But there are others still, Milo, who are not friends to your people or even to mine. They are the Aes Sídhe—the people of the mounds—whole courts of faerie warriors and sorcerers who were driven from their lands into the earth thousands of years ago. Their lands were taken by invaders from Europe, by your ancestors. Humans who came like a plague to the lands of magic. They did to the Aes Sídhe what the Swarm have done to this world—invaded, destroyed, exterminated, and ruined. The Aes Sídhe went into darkness—both in where they lived and in how they lived—and there, in that darkness, they have grown very strong and very wicked.”

  The whole day seemed to become still as she spoke, and Milo felt a chill in his heart that had nothing to do with the temperature of the air.

  “Yeah, okay, well, that’s . . . um . . . scary,” he said weakly, swallowing hard, “but we’re all fighting the same fight now. I mean, you and the Nightsiders, us—it’s all us against the Swarm, isn’t it?”

  Evangelyne gave him a pitying look. “You know so little of how this world works, Milo,” she said. “You think that everyone has a good heart, don’t you? That all people need to do is open their eyes and they’ll suddenly ‘get it.’”

  “No . . . ,” he said hesitantly. “I’m just being practical. It really is us against them. We all live here.” He bent down and tapped the ground with his knuckles. “If we don’t stand by each other, then that only makes it easier for the Swarm.”

  She shook her head. “There are some who don’t see it that way. Even Oakenayl thinks that we should step away from you and fight this war on our own.”

  “Why? We need each other. Or are all bets off, now that you have the Heart of Darkness back?”

  “No. Not as far as I’m concerned,” she said, smiling faintly. “Mook feels the same, and Iskiel. The bats are with us, and there are others who will fight with the Orphan Army. However, there are some who will always want to stand apart. Many more than want to stand together, sad to say. And some are not merely bitter, like Oakenayl. Some, like the Aes Sídhe, hate all humans. Their ruler, Queen Mab, has never made a secret of her hatred, and that spite is very old. It runs as deep as the bones of the earth.”

  “Queen Mab . . . Hey, do you think that’s the red-haired lady I saw? The nasty one?”

  “Did she wear a golden torc around her neck?”

  “Not sure what a torc is, but she had a thick gold ring around her neck.”

  “That’s a torc. And yes, that was probably Queen Mab. You’re lucky, Milo. Very few people have ever escaped her enchantments. She is immensely dangerous.”

  “I kind of got that impression. But look, how’s she connected with the Huntsman? He was beginning to appear inside that circle. How’s that make any sense?”

  Evangelyne looked frightened. “I . . . don’t know. Magic circles like that are used to conjure demons, to bring them forth from their dimension with the promise of an offering, usually of blood or flesh, and then to enslave them.”

  “Demons? Geez. What would a bunch of faeries want with a demon?”

  “To help them escape, of course.”

  “Why? I thought they escaped from here to wherever they are.”

  “They did. But they did it the wrong way.” She paused. “Goddess of Shadows, there is so much you don’t know about my world. Let me try to explain it.”

  She paused to think. Milo figured it was as hard for her to explain the world of the Nightsiders as it would be for him to explain tech to her. Same planet but very different worlds.

  Finally Evangelyne nodded to herself. “When Queen Mab led her people out of this world, she opened a door to a shadow dimension that was well suited to her needs. The Aes Sídhe conquered that place and made it their own. There were other creatures there, and her dark faeries either killed or enslaved them.”

  “Sounds like the Swarm,” said Milo.

  “It sounds like every nation everywhere,” corrected Evangelyne. “History is filled with conquest. There were oceans of blood spilled here before the Swarm invaded.”

  Milo nodded, glumly accepting her stern correction.

  “However,” continued Evangelyne, “the magicks Queen Mab used to protect her people and to safeguard her new world from invasion by the Daylighters backfired. She sealed the door behind her. The Aes Sídhe locked themselves on the other side of that doorway of shadow and now no one can pass through in either direction. Only in very rare cases and for very brief periods of time can she or one of her warriors slip between her world and this one. Demons can do it more easily, and some of them know how to create new doorways from world to world.”

  “What worlds are you talking about? That faerie ring was right here in the forest.”

  “There are many worlds, Milo, and there are worlds between worlds. And even worlds between those. I suppose you would call them dimensions. They overlap with ours and are mostly invisible to any but the most powerful. Each of these worlds connects to others. Sometimes the doors are sealed shut with the strength of iron, and sometimes they are as insubstantial as smoke. That is how demons move between the worlds, but they are usually pulled back to their own dimensions by cosmic forces that even my people don’t fully understand. However, with the right spells, a demon can be summoned who will open such a door.”

  Milo nodded, accepting this. It made him wonder if magic was really just some aspect of science that had never yet been measured or understood.

  “Doors are meant to be opened, though,” continued Evangelyne, “and there are many kinds of keys and many kinds of locks. Spells are one kind of key, and the casting of a faerie ring is a powerful kind of spell. If the right spells are cast, then those circles allow for passage between worlds. Not all worlds, just certain worlds. And the circles themselves act like cells. They contain whatever passes through. Do you understand?”

  “Sure. It’s like the spells are entry codes and the circles are air locks.”

  She gave him a blank stare. “I have no idea what that means.”

  “Doesn’t matter. I’m following what you’re saying. Go on.”

  “Well, what you encountered in the woods was Queen Mab using a faerie ring to try to summon a being of power. A demon.”

  “But the Huntsman’s not a demon.”

  “I know, which is why this is hard to understand. Unless . . .”

  “Unless what?”

  “Unless the Huntsman somehow convinced Queen Mab that he was a demon.”

  “Why on earth would the Huntsman want to do that?” asked Milo.

  She considered the question, then shook her head. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m wrong. There are several possibilities, but I’d only be guessing.”

  “So . . . guess.”

  She thought again. “The Huntsman wants the crystal egg you stole and he wants the Heart of Darkness.
The queen has wanted to be free of her prison for many years and she is a powerful sorceress. It’s possible—even likely—that she sensed the presence of a being of great, dark power and reached out to him to strike a dark bargain so that they both could get what they want.”

  “How?”

  “The easiest way for a sorceress of her skill would be through dreams. Much as the Witch of the World speaks to you in your dreams. Queen Mab might have offered to help him recover the crystal egg so he could give it back to the Swarm. And they would both want the Heart of Darkness. Besides, we know that the Huntsman craves magical knowledge. Who better to teach him than a queen of faeries? It is something she might consider a fair bargain if he helped free her.”

  “Maybe,” said Milo, “but I’m not sure that theory’s right. They called him their ‘champion.’”

  “Of course. If he promised to free her, then that’s what he would be. He is already so powerful, and that would be very appealing to her. An alliance between the two would make them each incredibly strong. Ten times more so than they would be alone.”

  “How would it work, though? He’s scary, but all he has is science.”

  “Maybe,” she said dubiously. “There are things even a Daylighter can do on this side of a doorway to help someone on the other side escape.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like a human sacrifice.”

  “Oh . . . man . . .” It made him sick and dizzy to think that not only could he have died in that circle, but that his death might have doomed the world.

  “To do that, though,” said the wolf girl, “the Huntsman would have to cross a line that few are willing to cross. He would need to sacrifice his own soul.”

  “Not sure he even has one anymore. He’s a psycho killer, remember.”

  “That doesn’t mean he’s soulless, Milo. Even evil people have souls, hard as that is to believe.”

  “He’s half Bug.”

  “So? What makes you think the Swarm don’t have souls? They’re alive, and maybe some of them are mindless, the worker drones, I mean, but the soldiers have minds. There’s every possibility they have souls, too.”

  “Even the drones?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  Milo thought about it; then something occurred to him. “Remember a few days ago when I first met the Huntsman? He tried to kill me and the Witch of the World did some wonky magic and for a minute I was inside the Huntsman’s head.”

  She nodded. “You said it was horrifying.”

  “It was. We had that whole mind-melding thing and I’m really glad I don’t remember all of it. But there are some things I remember. One of them is that long before the Swarm ever got here, back when the Huntsman was just a human psychopath, he was trying to learn everything he could about magic. He’s always wanted to become magical. He thinks that’s part of how he’ll become a god. I saw memories of him reading thousands of old books and talking to psychics and doing everything he could to learn about it. He was obsessed with it.”

  “Oh,” she said, looking sick. “That’s not good news.”

  “No it’s not.” Milo cocked his head to one side. “There’s a word kind of stuck in my head since that happened. I’ve read it in books, too, and I’m pretty sure it’s some kind of magic. Like the bad kind.”

  “What word?”

  “Necromancy.”

  Evangelyne drew back in horror. “Goddess of Shadows! That is the very worst kind of sorcery. Even among the magical peoples there is no one more reviled and feared than a necromancer.”

  “Why?”

  “When a person dies, there is a great release of energy. Not only does their soul fly free, but other forms of energy are released and it is raw and powerful. In sacred rituals around the world, people gather to honor someone as they die and to share in that release. They allow the soul to move on, but sometimes they can gain great insight and knowledge from that raw energy. Much of what we Nightsiders have learned of healing has been learned as one of ours passed through the veil and into the eternal darkness, and we honor them for sharing with us.”

  She paused and swallowed hard. “But a necromancer is different. He does not wait for natural death. Instead he uses torture and murder to force the release of these energies, and then he steals those secrets for himself. A necromancer is like a vampire except that instead of feeding on blood, he devours life energy and then uses it to read the future, uncover secrets, enslave others, and even raise the dead and turn them into slaves.” She shuddered. “There is not much we Nightsiders fear, but we fear a necromancer. Please, Milo, please tell me that you’re wrong about what you read in the Huntsman’s mind.”

  Milo said nothing, and he wished he hadn’t said a word. Especially that word.

  Evangelyne shook her head, and he saw her mouth that word.

  Necromancer.

  “Wait,” he said, “so you’re saying that they wanted the Huntsman to kill me to free Queen Mab?”

  “Maybe. It may be more complicated than that. A single sacrifice wouldn’t break open the door. Not with someone new to using magic. Wanting to become a necromancer and actually being one are hardly the same things. No, I think they will have to take other lives to set the Aes Sídhe free.” She pondered this. “It may be that the Huntsman has already killed someone else to gain the power necessary to communicate with the queen. It’s a process with many steps. I think what they tried to do to you was something different.”

  “I probably don’t want to know,” he said, “but what do you think they had in mind?”

  “Binding you.”

  “What, like tying me up?”

  “No. Binding your soul and your life force to those of a necromancer. It would turn you into a kind of slave. You’ve heard of animals that some witches keep as pets and servants? They’re called familiars.”

  Milo nodded. Scary books were filled with that sort of stuff.

  “If the Huntsman were able to complete the spells necessary to bind your life force to his, then you would have no choice but to serve him. That means he could make you as obedient to him as the Bugs are to the hive queens. And you would have to tell him anything he wanted to know.”

  Milo touched the crystal egg in his pocket and cut a look at the leather pouch at Evangelyne’s belt. She followed his gaze and nodded.

  “You would have no secrets from him because he would be your master forever.”

  “Oh, man . . .”

  She smiled a twisted smile. “And to think you were saved by an annoying little dog.”

  “Killer is not annoying,” said Milo quickly. “Actually, I think I’m going to be especially nice to that mutt for the rest of my life.”

  “You should.”

  Milo felt dizzy. “Why can’t the world be simple? It used to be. I can remember when the hardest thing I had to do was put my toys away and brush my teeth before bed. Now . . . every day things get bigger and more complicated. Why can’t I just go back to being a kid?”

  “I’m sorry, Milo,” said the wolf girl. “Life used to be easier for me, too. I used to read my books and run through the woods hunting rabbits and sing to the moon with my aunts. Some of the Nightsiders had learned how to find peace even with you humans around.”

  Milo sighed.

  “Then,” said Evangelyne, “the Bugs came. And then the Huntsman, and now the Aes Sídhe are trying to make mischief.”

  “I think it’s a little worse than ‘mischief.’”

  She shook her head. “That word means something different to the Nightsiders, Milo. Mischief isn’t harmless pranks. Not to us. It comes from an old French word, meschever, meaning something done to bring grief.”

  The word “grief” hung in the air, and it was a word that Milo—and everyone else still alive on Earth—knew all too well. Knew, and feared.

  Milo had to clear his throat before he could speak. “Can we . . . talk to these faeries? Maybe make them understand who the Huntsman really is and what he wants?”


  “I don’t know. I doubt it. They don’t have a reputation for being reasonable. Trying to reason with them could get us hurt.”

  “Even if we’re careful?”

  “I really don’t think it’s possible. Others have tried to make peace with them, and there was always blood, death, and ruin. All I do know, Milo, is that Queen Mab and her kind—the dark faeries of the Aes Sídhe and their allies among the goblins and imps—will never be our friends and they will never be our allies. Not even in this fight. Never.”

  Despite that, Milo pasted a smile on his face. “My dad had a saying: ‘Never say never.’”

  Evangelyne’s eyes were cold. “Your father is lost, Milo. I’m not sure we can trust his wisdom.”

  “Don’t say that!” snapped Milo. “My dad’s missing, not lost. I’ll find him. The witch said—”

  Before he could finish his statement, Shark stuck his head out the hatchway and yelled, “I did it! Come on!”

  His face was covered with grease and sweat, but he was grinning from ear to ear. Killer barked and jumped around him. A few seconds later Milo heard the rumble as the alien engines came to life.

  Chapter 16

  Milo raced up the ramp, with Evangelyne right behind him. And as if from nowhere, Iskiel came slithering through the scorched grass and managed to get aboard ahead of both of them.

  On the bridge of the Huntsman’s command ship, Killer barked and ran around in circles, then stopped and jumped straight up in the air a dozen times as if on springs. He couldn’t know what was happening, but he had caught the fire of everyone’s excitement.

  “Will it work, boy?” said Evangelyne, turning a fierce eye on Shark.

  Shark ignored her.

  “Wait,” said Milo, grabbing his friend’s sleeve, “can you even fly this thing?”

  “Me?” Shark grinned and shook his head. “I could probably figure it out, but you already flew it, so you’re elected.” He shoved Milo toward the pilot’s chair.

  “But—” began Evangelyne.

  Shark cut her off. “Strap in, girl.”

  “Not funny,” she grumbled.

  Because there were so many different kinds of Bugs in the Swarm, the chairs were made of a gel-like substance that conformed to the shape of whoever sat down. Evangelyne slid into a seat and shuddered as the gel shifted and molded itself to her. She made a face of distaste as she fumbled with the seat belt. The wolf girl couldn’t figure it out—technology had played so small a part in her upbringing—so Shark connected the straps and cinched them tight.