Iron Night

by M. L. Brennan

  “Are you certain?” All of the relaxed congratulation was gone, and Chivalry’s voice was tense.

  “Really sure. We got a peek at the center of the Tootsie Pop.”

  “How badly are you hurt?” That Chivalry asked how badly rather than are you was a direct confirmation of the seriousness of the situation.

  “Banged up, but we’re both okay.”

  “Where is the skinwalker now?”

  “Gone. Listen, Chivalry, there’s some weird shit going on up here. The skinwalker is working with the elves on something.”

  Chivalry sucked in a breath. “You need to tell all of this to Mother. Get down here right now.”

  “No, Chivalry, I can’t—”

  “That’s not a request, Fortitude,” Chivalry snapped. “I want you to get in your car right now and come straight to the mansion. No detours, nothing. This supercedes everything. If you aren’t in front of the mansion one hour from now, I’m coming and getting you.” He hung up. Another sign that convinced me how serious this was—Chivalry wrote regular letters to the editor of the local newspaper complaining about the decline in phone etiquette.

  “Oh, not good,” I muttered as I immediately called Suze. When she picked up I explained the necessary change in plans, and she assured me that she and Lilah would be able to handle Matt. Hoping that was the case but unable to do anything about it, I made a quick, illegal U-turn and headed for the highway.

  • • •

  As I drove, most of my mind was on trying to sort through what had just happened. Skinwalkers were, unlike kitsune or the elves, native to North America, but my mother hadn’t had any contact with them until western expansion had progressed well into areas like Texas and Arizona. They had been banned from my mother’s territory more than sixty years ago, and the ones that didn’t willingly relocate had been hunted down and killed by Prudence and Chivalry, and while my brother hadn’t gone into the details, apparently they had made those executions grisly enough that no skinwalker had been sighted in the territory since, though Chivalry had once mentioned that the largest concentration of them was now in Miami, where they liked the heat, the city life, and the convenience of the everglades for dumping bodies.

  That was the one thing Chivalry had emphasized: skinwalkers meant bodies. They were humanoid in shape but not in appearance. He hadn’t gone into detail (and I had not pursued it), but I’d just gotten a small window into what a skinwalker looked like in its natural form. It was apparently a rare sight—true to their name, they stripped the skin from their victims and were able to wear it to blend in to the population. No one knew how long they could wear one skin for; Chivalry had known individuals who kept skins for months or even years, but like snails with shells, there was a large amount of “trading up,” which occurred whenever a skinwalker caught sight of a face or body that it liked better than the one it was currently wearing. They were rapacious, violent, and deadly.

  And I’d just pissed one off very personally. I pressed my foot harder onto the gas pedal. Suddenly seeing my family held an enticing appeal. Kind of like in the Three Billy Goats Gruff—Soli might’ve handed me my ass, but I was willing to bet that things would be very different with my big brother.

  I tried not to think about what had happened with Matt. I didn’t want to think about what I’d almost done to him, or its potential implications. There had been times in the past where blood had excited me and I’d felt cold, predatory instincts stir in me, but those had been only during the days when I’d been trying to avoid my vampire heritage as much as possible and had avoided coming home to feed from my mother. I’d never come so close to sampling human blood, and I’d never before lost all recognition of those around me. What frightened me was that I’d been drinking my mother’s blood more regularly over the past few months than I had at any point since my late teens, and between that and my vegetarian diet what had happened shouldn’t have been possible.

  That I knew of. The information my family had provided me about what I could expect now that my transition had started had been about as helpful as Queen Victoria’s premarital advice to her daughters. The idea that this might be my new normal made my hands shake on the wheel, and I forced the topic from my brain. Suddenly a skinwalker who seemed personally pissed at me seemed like a much better issue to ponder.

  It was a weeknight and late, so roads were clear and I was able to make excellent time to Newport, pulling my car into the driveway at just past eleven. The house was completely lit up, twinkling like a jewel in the dark. I could feel the presence of my entire family in the house as I walked toward it. Prudence had avoided me for the past few months, pouting over my failure to get myself killed, and there was something intoxicating about feeling the certainty of all of them, a drumming knowledge in the back of my brain that tugged at the part of me that had come roaring out earlier that evening and was still crouched far too close to the surface.

  No one was waiting for me, but I followed the pull of their presence unerringly to the small parlor to the left of the grand staircase that was reserved for family use and not quite as overwhelmingly decorated as the more public areas of the mansion.

  Despite the season, a fire had been lit in the granite fireplace, and my mother sat on the rose-colored sofa tucked closest to it. She was wearing her typical set of innocuous camouflage, wide-legged light green grandma pants that accented her flowery pastel shirt, all topped off with her clunky eighties glasses and her best Barbara Bush hairdo. Chivalry sat to her left, much more dressed down than usual in a button-down shirt and jeans, with a hollow and exhausted look around his eyes. Prudence wasn’t sitting, but instead paced around the room. She must’ve been out on the town when she’d been called home, because she was dressed for the opera in a long black gown that sparkled when she moved, the full skirt swishing dangerously in her wake, contrasting the gleam of white shoulders and very generously displayed décolletage in the thinly strapped top. Her bright red hair was pinned up instead of hanging in its usual sleek bob, and the heads of the pins sparkled like the diamonds that I suspected they actually were.

  Everyone was already looking at the doorway when I walked in, having undoubtedly felt my approach ever since I pulled into the driveway, if not even before that. Prudence gave me one sweeping look and continued her pacing, but Chivalry immediately got up and hurried over to me, concern filling his face when he reached out to touch my bruised cheek.

  “What else, Fort?” he asked urgently, patting my arms to check for broken bones and eyeing the rest of me that was concealed by my clothing. Chivalry was able to hide his mother-hen streak most of the time, but when I was younger he’d always been the first to come running with a bottle of iodine whenever I came home after a bike ride with a freshly scraped knee.

  I flinched away from his hand, as even his delicate probing had sent a blast of pain through my skull, but I gave him a pat on the shoulder. “Just bruises. I’m okay.” He looked completely unconvinced, still scanning me anxiously for injuries, and I tried to make my voice more reassuring as I repeated, “Really, I’m fine. Suze actually looks worse than I do right now.”

  From her position on the sofa, Madeline frowned. “The kitsune was there? Atsuko was involved in your search?”

  I shook my head. “No, Suzume was there as a favor to me. She’s my friend.” As much as that was the case, I’d met her extremely formidable grandmother, and had no doubt that the White Fox had at least tacitly given her approval for Suze’s involvement.

  “How interesting, Fortitude,” Madeline said, seeming to savor the words. “I’m very pleased. The kitsune are a valuable alliance, and it’s good that you are making a strong connection where other of my children”—she sent a quick, slashing look toward Prudence—“have not.”

  My sister continued stalking around the room but met Madeline’s look with a glare of her own, clearly feeling and resenting our mother’s dig. “The kitsu
ne live in the territory under our sufferance. There is no need to beg for favors.”

  “No?” Madeline asked, then dropped her voice to a low hiss, surprising me with its level of anger. “Had Fortitude encountered the skinwalker on his own, without a strong ally, I doubt we’d be getting this report.” Her blue eyes began to glow with the heat of her anger, reminding me of the Bunsen burners we’d used in high school chemistry. But as quickly as it had been revealed, Madeline pulled the anger inside again, banking and hiding it under her Betty White–esque exterior. But it was still there, and the hair on the back of my neck stood up in response. I noticed that Prudence had slowed her pacing, moving slower, more cautiously, in the wake of our mother’s temper.

  Chivalry had also flinched at our mother’s words, but he must’ve agreed with them because the pupils of his eyes were expanding, swallowing the benign hazel with gleaming black, and he snapped, “It should never have been an issue to begin with.” He tugged at my elbow, leading me over to the sofa beside my mother. “Sit down and tell us what happened,” he said, fussing until I sat to the left of Madeline. He immediately sat on my left, leaving me sandwiched between them. He gave our sister a sharp look. “Stop pacing, Prudence.” She gave a small snarl at the order but obeyed, throwing herself into her favorite chair, a Louis XVI that creaked alarmingly at the sudden impact.

  Everyone’s eyes were on me now, waiting with varying levels of patience, and I took a deep breath and started talking. I began with the discovery of Gage’s body and went from there—with one significant exception. I edited out Matt’s presence entirely, instead claiming that Suze and I had found a glamoured Iron Needle promotional card while we’d been cleaning out Gage’s bedroom and had simply investigated from there. Other than that I was honest about what had happened, including Lilah’s involvement. Madeline and Chivalry both listened with frozen, intent expressions, but Prudence was clearly agitated by what I was saying. When I finished with the events of the evening, claiming that Soli had fled after Suzume had managed to cut her open enough to expose her nougaty center, Prudence couldn’t restrain herself any longer. She exploded out of her chair and began stalking the room again, clearly enraged.

  “This isn’t the work of a moment,” she growled. “Months went into this that we did nothing. Others will see this and act accordingly.”

  Madeline stayed focused on me and reached over to give me a small pat on my knee. “You’ve done very well, Fortitude,” she complimented me, then glanced over at Prudence. “This will be dealt with swiftly.”

  Prudence ignored her. “Elves with some kind of plan, daring to bring the forbidden into our boundaries. The kitsune numbers are increasing. The witches are showing discontent. More movement among the lower creatures. Now a skinwalker at the heart of the territory.” She smacked the edge of the fireplace temperamentally, cracking one of the granite stones, and said to Madeline, “They sense your weakness, Mother.”

  “This isn’t the time for that, sister,” Chivalry said. “We need to focus on what is at hand.”

  There was an intensity in the way that Madeline looked at Prudence, and the glitter of suppressed temper was back in her eyes, but she visibly restrained herself and, with deliberate blandness, said, “True enough.” Then she turned to me and lifted one thin, liver-spotted hand to cup my chin. “This was fine work, showing good instincts. You will continue this fine, fine work for me, my son. You will be assisted,” she glanced from Chivalry to Prudence, then back again, before hesitating a moment and then saying smoothly, “by your brother. But you, my darling, you will be in charge.” She smiled, and her upper lip pulled back enough to display her long, thoroughly impressive fangs that, unlike Prudence’s and Chivalry’s, were fixed in place and too large to retract. “And when you find this skinwalker, as well as those responsible for her presence, it will be by your command that your brother shows the consequences of defiance.”

  There was a dreamy look in her eyes as she dwelled over the word consequences, and I knew that her thoughts were filled with blood and pain. I swallowed hard, but nodded like an obedient son. “Yes,” I agreed, then looked at Chivalry. There was a hesitance in his face that surprised me, and I nudged him, saying, “Chivalry?”

  He looked startled for a second, then collected himself and the mixed feelings vanished as if they’d never been there. “Of course, Fort,” he said in his most reassuring voice. “You found something the rest of us had overlooked. It’s right that you should continue to lead.”

  That was the brother I knew, and I relaxed.

  Prudence snarled loudly, her delicate fangs sliding out from their hiding places. She swept over in front of us and shoved Chivalry hard in the shoulder, knocking him back against the couch cushions. “Stop protecting him, brother. If Fortitude is to make adult decisions, then you can’t keep wrapping him in wool.” Her blue eyes, gleaming with temper, slid over to focus on me. “Bhumika is in complete renal failure, Fortitude,” she said, and I flinched at the hard truth. “Her first dialysis is scheduled for tomorrow, along with a number of invasive and doubtless painful tests to determine candidacy for a transplant. The first time Chivalry left the hospital in three days was when you called him with the skinwalker information. And now he pretends to eagerly leave at your side.”

  I looked at my brother, but he didn’t deny what Prudence was saying. He simply looked back at me, his face set in unreadable lines. “Chivalry, what—”

  Madeline interrupted me, her voice an iron bell that filled the room and made even Prudence look cautious. “And your motives, daughter? Do you offer Fort a true choice between you and Chivalry as assistance, or a false one?” She studied Prudence intensely and asked, “Will you follow your brother’s commands as if they were mine? Can you do this?”

  Prudence didn’t answer at first, looking at me instead. When I met her eyes, I was surprised to see that the restless anger and irritation that I was so used to was missing, and instead there was something else. It wasn’t aggressive, but seemed almost . . . curious. I was shaken as much by the change as if the rising sun had been purple. Prudence gave a short nod to our mother. “Yes.”

  Madeline exhaled, long and thoughtful, those hard eyes examining my sister, weighing what she had just said. Then her attention shifted to me, and part of me shivered at her expression. I was being examined and considered as thoroughly as Prudence had been a moment ago, but I didn’t have two centuries of starch in my spine to help me through it. It was a natural fear, I reminded myself, just like a bunny would feel when facing a saber-tooth tiger, and I did my best to hide it. After a moment Madeline gave a small nod and said, “Then there is a choice before you, my turtledove. Which of your siblings will go back to Providence with you?”

  Chivalry gripped my hand, and I tore myself from Madeline’s absorbing gaze to look back at my brother. There was clear worry on his face now as he glanced at our sister; while our mother might’ve accepted Prudence’s words, Chivalry was clearly not as trusting. “It’s fine, Fort. I can go with you,” he said, low and urgent. “Bhumika is getting the best care in the state right now, and she wouldn’t be alone for a second.”

  I hesitated. Everything inside me wanted to take the protection that Chivalry was offering, knowing that he would do everything in his power to shield me not just from the physical threats, but also from hard decisions. If Chivalry discovered Matt’s involvement, he would hesitate to kill him—not out of a belief that Matt shouldn’t die, but because he knew that the death would hurt me. Prudence wouldn’t do that.

  I also wanted to take Chivalry so that he could continue to do what he had done for most of my life, which was to stand as a barrier between me and my sister. My foster parents’ blood was on her hands, and she’d been the one to teach me the harsh lesson of what could happen to humans who found themselves entwined in our shadowy world of secrets.

  But as much as I wanted those things, I also wondered how much it wou
ld cost Chivalry to leave Bhumika right now. She was dying, and nothing the doctors could do would stop that—she’d been dying from the moment that she’d married my brother five years ago, and he’d spent each day of those years cherishing the time they were together, knowing all too well that it would end like this.

  I wished deeply that I could make the decision I would’ve made a year ago. But I’d changed since then, and that it was time to be adult enough to, for the first time, protect my brother. “No, it’s okay,” I told him, squeezing his hands with completely false reassurance. I looked over at our sister. “I’ll take Prudence.”

  No one spoke at first, but everyone was looking at me, assessing the decision, weighing what this meant in the strange dynamics of the family. Finally Madeline nodded. “Very well,” she said. She leaned forward, brushing a finger against my bruised cheek, and looked me over, her eyes seeming to catalog every injury, even those hidden by my clothes. She gave a small tsk of her tongue. “This is a deadly opponent, my son, and the elves have always had the loyalty of serpents. You will need to be a very wary little mongoose indeed, and a strong one.” She pushed the cuff of her sleeve back and drew her thumbnail slowly across her wrist, making a short cut. Blood welled up sluggishly, thicker than a human’s would’ve been, and much darker. She held the wrist up in front of my face. “Feed.”

  Craving rushed through me, but I hesitated, resting my hand against the middle of her forearm to keep her from pressing her wrist any closer. “I fed last week, Mother. It’s too soon.”