Lulu turned her face away from all of us, clearly struggling between her aversion to giving us the information we needed to stop the sacrifice and her fear of the consequences if she didn’t answer. My sister moved forward, easing down beside Lulu and stroking the sweaty curls back from the tortured woman’s forehead. When she spoke her voice was soft and almost loving, a horrible counterpoint to the content of the words themselves. “I will rip apart every hybrid girl I can find, Lulu,” Prudence promised. “And I will leave you alive to watch while I destroy every hope your race has left.”
No one doubted the truth of Prudence’s promise, and it was the last torture for Lulu, who broke fully at last. Her eyes were shattered when she whispered, “It’s tonight, just at moonrise. In the fairy circle outside the entrance to Underhill. They’ll all be there, waiting for me to arrive.”
I looked at Lilah, still standing at the doorway. “Do you know the spot?”
She nodded. “Yes,” but something was clearly on her mind, and she asked Lulu, “Who are they using?”
Those brilliant emerald eyes glittered with malice. “You should know.”
Betrayal covered Lilah’s face. “No, no, not Iris. My parents would never agree to that.” And I remembered then that Lilah’s nineteen-year-old sister was one of the three-quarter hybrid girls.
“They are loyal,” Lulu sneered, her voice like a knife. “They didn’t question us, just agreed to give the girl the brew and have her ready for Tomas to pick up.”
Lilah moved forward then, her hands reaching for the older woman, but I grabbed and held her before she could get close. She struggled for a moment, then gave up. “What time is moonrise tonight?” I asked her, hoping that she would somehow know offhand or that her finding the answer would manage to focus her attention.
Suzume stepped into the room at my question and held up my own phone, which I’d left in the other room. Apparently while we’d been embroiled in personal drama she’d made good use of my data plan. “Moonrise is at eight-oh-nine. We’ve got forty minutes.”
“We need to get moving,” I said urgently.
Prudence was still kneeling beside Lulu, stroking her dark curls with their periodic glints of silver. She looked over at me and asked, “You’re point, brother. What shall we do with the good doctor?”
After the past few minutes’ revelations there couldn’t be much doubt, but I still hesitated for a second, looking at the woman tied to the chair who had participated in so much misery and death. But when I said, “Kill her,” I was surprised at how hard and sure my own voice sounded, like a stranger’s.
Prudence’s hands moved in a blur, a crack filled the room, and Lulu’s head slumped on a broken neck. I felt inside myself but couldn’t even find a flicker of remorse. My sister stood up, and there was a gleam of approval in her blue eyes when she looked at me. “Very good, Fortitude,” she said.
I looked away from my sister, her praise bothering me exponentially more than the body did. “Everyone in the cars,” I said roughly. “Grab what you need for a fight.”
• • •
The Irish entrance to Underhill was closed in 1845, locking the elves inside to hopefully murder each other out of existence. The magic that closed the gate had a high cost—the Potato Famine was just one of them. But despite the best efforts of the ones who worked that magic, one elf and several half-bloods weren’t caught in the trap. They fled to America, ending up in my mother’s territory, where they negotiated the terms for their residency. It took sixty-three years for them to craft the Rhode Island opening to Underhill, and after they’d managed it, my mother used her political influence to push the creation of a state park around the gate to ensure its security. That was the start of the Lincoln Woods State Park—627 acres open year-round, including hills, a freshwater lake, and equestrian trails, and all lay only eight miles from the heart of Providence and didn’t even include an entrance fee.
Every stoplight was torturous as we drove, but I didn’t dare risk running any of them, not when we couldn’t afford the delay of a traffic stop. With Prudence following in her own car, Lilah gave me directions from the passenger’s seat. As I drove, I tossed my phone back to Suze and asked her to put one last call in to Matt, to figure out where he was and keep him somewhere safe. She tried, but passed it back to me a minute later. It had gone to voice mail again. I cursed, then focused on getting through a yellow light a minute before it went to red.
The park was officially open only from sunrise to sunset, but to avoid trapping lingering hikers the entrance gates were never closed. As Lilah directed us to a small parking area, I noticed that there were several cars already there. The clock ticked over to seven forty-eight p.m. just as I turned off the engine.
Suze had grabbed our duffels on the way out of the apartment, and I removed my Colt and the Ithaca 37, checking each quickly to make sure they were fully loaded. Because the Ithaca could carry only two shells at a time, I pushed more into the pockets of my shirt and jeans. The Colt went into its own holster that I strapped around my waist, but there was no way around carrying the Ithaca openly, and I hoped desperately that if we ran across any innocent night hikers, Suze could trick them into thinking that the Ithaca was just an oddly shaped hoagie.
Suze herself was carrying her long knife in her right hand. On the drive over, Lilah had been persuaded to carry the unregistered .38 that Suze routinely kept in her duffel bag, but from the way she was holding it, it seemed unlikely that she’d be able to hit the broad side of a barn. The plan we’d worked out on the way over was one where hopefully the combined authority of me and Prudence would be enough to stop the planned sacrifice, but if that failed, then Lilah’s job would be to try to get her sister and Felix to safety while the rest of us cleared a path for her and kept most of the potential harm away. Lilah had a very fixed and determined expression on her face that made me think that she’d be willing to pull the trigger tonight. Whatever internal qualms she’d had about her part in Lulu’s fate had evaporated once she’d learned that her sister was in danger, and as I looked at her under the fluorescence of the lone parking-lot light, I was struck by how very brave and yet how wholly unprepared she was for where this situation could end up heading.
My sister, meanwhile, had waited with barely concealed impatience while we’d done our best to arm ourselves. When I glanced at her with a question on my lips, it died as she flexed her bare hands in anticipation of the almost certain conflict ahead of us. Prudence clearly had no intention of using any weapons beyond the ones that nature had already endowed her with.
My phone read seven fifty-one when I tossed it onto the seat of my car for safekeeping (it was too new and shiny to risk getting crunched in a fight) and locked the doors, and we all fell into a line behind Lilah and followed her down a dirt path. As we passed the tree line and the leaves rustled eerily above us in the creepy way of the woods in the night, I noticed again that I was seeing better than I should’ve as all artificial lights disappeared behind us. It was another sign of my transition, but I couldn’t regret it at that moment—with whatever lay before us, I knew that I would certainly need every advantage my heritage could offer.
Chapter 10
Lilah ran flat-out down a small hiking path, and the rest of us followed. Abruptly the path ended in a clearing, one of those rare natural forest glens where the ancient trees formed a perfect circle, edged in a ring of clover and dandelions. On the far side was the edge of a small hill, cluttered with rocks except for a small, dark opening, the kind that evoked an image of raccoon dens or slumbering copperhead snakes. It was the sort of place that would stir a naturalist’s heart, but in truth this was the fairy circle that marked the gate into Underhill.
It was a perfectly clear night, and the open field was bathed in the light from the stars. The growing radiance from the moon had almost fully crested the horizon, giving us all an excellent view of what was happening. Lacki
ng the right kind of tree to hang their sacrifice from, the Neighbors had set up a portable scaffold, the type that I’d seen contractors use to touch up the paint in my mother’s grand foyer, where they had to safely deal with restoration at a height of eighteen feet. Hanging upside down from the middle of the scaffold was Felix. He was fully awake and struggling, but they’d gagged him and he couldn’t make a sound.
Several feet beneath him was an inflatable kiddie pool, bright blue and incongruously decorated with cartoon dolphins and starfish, a sight that made me regret the unnatural sharpness of my eyesight. Inside the pool was a young woman who bore too close a resemblance to Lilah to be anything other than her nineteen-year-old sister, Iris—the hair was the same, as well as something in her face, despite the fact that she was a three-quarter cross and showed the signs of a heritage that had far fewer ties to humanity. She was completely naked, her pale skin almost phosphorescently pale in the starlight, and she sat with her legs folded and a look of blank and uncomprehending docility on her face.
Circled around their two victims were ten figures who were intently focused either on the scenario in front of them or the slow progress of the moon in the sky. At first I’d concentrated on looking for Soli, but my brain stuttered when I realized from their completely distinctive silhouettes that five of those figures were full elves—the first I’d ever seen. The presence of so many of what remained of that dwindling, doomed population spoke more for how invested they were in this than anything Lilah or Lulu could ever have said.
They didn’t notice at first as we came to the end of the path and passed into the fairy circle. Prudence and I moved naturally into the lead, with Suze and Lilah falling just behind us. But three of the figures broke away from the circle, three older half-bloods around Lulu’s age who would’ve looked completely at home organizing a church jumble sale had it not been for the butcher knives in their hands as they moved toward where Felix hung. We were getting nearer but were still halfway across the clearing, so I raised the Ithaca above my head and gave one warning shot. That stopped them, and all wheeled around to face us, and I saw the last of the elves full-on.
They were all tall, at least six feet each, but with almost delicate builds displayed by the loose fur wraps that each wore around his waist, with nothing on the upper body. Their hair was long, ranging in color from one whose black hair seemed even darker than the sky above us to a brilliant blond, but it was clear that this wasn’t the same as the hair of any human or hybrid cross I’d seen, and looked more like spun metal. From just above the hairlines of each of the elves emerged a full set of horns, as smooth and black as polished marble, and as long and pronged as a deer in autumn. There was a distinctly reptilian cast to their faces, wholly inhuman, long and disturbing, and those large eyes I’d admired so much in Lilah were much different when seen in their natural setting. And yet I was almost viscerally struck by how beautiful each of them was. It was a terrifying beauty, nature at its most vicious, but even as we advanced toward them I could feel the echo of their allure and compulsion, and I understood why the legends referred to them as the Fair Folk.
Beside them were their most loyal half-bloods—two men and a woman, all holding knives—and one younger man, bulky like a football player and with a face like a pale imitation of the elves, clearly a three-quarter hybrid. And at the far end, standing just apart and behind the others, was Soli, smiling with Beth’s mouth but with a venom that she had never been capable of.
The sound of the Ithaca rolled through the clearing, and we were close enough now that when I yelled for them to stop, it wasn’t because my voice had to cover a long distance. The elves were the ones who moved toward us, just a step, but Prudence made a low sound and they froze where they were, almost immediately shifting their weight to make it look as if they’d stopped because they’d wanted to—like scolded cats deliberately lifting one paw to lick. In the car, Lilah had described in enough detail the five elves who allowed themselves to be seen to me that, looking at each Ad-hene, I was able to match their names to their distinctive coloration. She’d also warned me that some might not back down willingly. As they looked at us, it was clear that there were divisions among them—two of them, Hobany and Beron, were cringing at the sight of us and shifting their feet nervously. The other three, though, Amadon, Shoney, and Nokke, were simply staring at us out of those gleaming eyes, and they looked angry instead of afraid.
“Stop all of this,” I ordered, forcing as much authority as I could into my voice and reminding myself that I was my mother’s representative. Over the past few months I’d heard Chivalry give orders to those who lived in my mother’s territory dozens of times, and I tried to put some of that confidence into my own voice.
“Why?” asked the one with golden hair, Amadon. “Madeline Scott can have no argument with what we do here, out of sight of any humans and in the company of our own kind.”
“Killing people from her territory?” I asked. “Snatching them away and then making a halfhearted effort at disposing of the bodies?” Arguing about the evils of the deaths themselves would’ve been a waste—I was being as careful as I could to argue in terms that my mother or Chivalry would’ve used, and that the elves were more likely to recognize and hopefully back down from. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Prudence give me a subtle nod of approval, and I felt a little reassured. If my argument was resting well with one sociopath, perhaps it would work with others.
“We would never break the rules that have been laid down,” said another, in a whining and nasal voice. This one was Beron, who Lilah had told me was more cautious. “None of Madeline’s stock have been poached—all who died were ours, from our bloodlines.”
Another, Hobany, joined in eagerly, with his head and dark horns dipping like a sycophant toward my sister and me. “If too little care has been taken with disposing of remains, then the fault lies with our offspring, and we will gladly put them forward for your mother’s punishment.” Behind him, the half-breeds who had just been offered up as fodder simply bobbed their heads in agreement, their faces as they looked at the Ad-hene never wavering from open adoration.
Needing to keep this completely on track, I pointed at Soli. “And that? A skinwalker stands right beside you, a creature my mother has banned for over sixty years. What is your explanation there?”
“Is that your concern in this?” asked Shoney, the one with the dark hair. He turned for a moment and drew one of the half-breeds forward, a lanky man with wispy gray hair and unglamoured ears that were the only signs of his heritage. “The fault for that lies in our dear Tomas, so I’m sure that he would gladly pay the price for his foolish actions. Wouldn’t you, Tomas?” The older man nodded eagerly, never looking away from Shoney’s face, even when the elf reached out and with one quick movement ripped out Tomas’s throat, the blood spurting across the elf’s chest as the body slumped and fell over. Even after a lifetime with my family, the sheer casualness of the killing shocked me profoundly, and behind me Lilah made a soft noise of protest, quickly stifled. No one else reacted at all, and Shoney gave a thin smile as he looked back at me. “Are we all in agreement?” he asked politely, lifting his hand to his mouth to delicately lick the blood that spattered across it with a tongue that was altogether too long and thin.
I stared at him. “Not even a little.”
Then Nokke spoke, his voice harsh, and from the way that Amadon and Shoney immediately snapped to attention, it was clear which of them was in charge here. If I hadn’t already known his connection to Lilah, it would’ve been obvious from his hair. Even in the dim light of the rising moon, that hair would’ve put a newly polished copper teakettle to shame. “Enough of this. We have brought in the tools we needed to complete our work, and those who were killed belong to us.” He sent a sharp look Lilah’s way, the first time that any of them had acknowledged her. “As does your apparent informant.”
Lilah’s voice was frightened but firm. “G
randfather, you have to stop what you’re doing. You can’t kill your own child to try to create a better one.”
“Can’t I, granddaughter? What life I create is my property and mine to destroy at my will.” His eyes narrowed. “When this is over, I think you will need a lesson in where your loyalties lie.” The threat was very clear.
I moved slightly to my left to block the look that Nokke was shooting toward Lilah. “Her loyalty is where it should’ve been, with the one who rules all of you.” I looked across the line of elves facing me, making eye contact with each of them, and worried that only two looked away. The odds were not in our favor, but there was nothing to do except push forward and lay everything on the line, and hope that self-interest won out in the end. “I speak for my mother, and I say that your plans for tonight’s activities are over. Leave Felix and Iris unharmed, hand the skinwalker over to us, and go back into your hole. Do that, and I’ll ask my mother to be merciful in her punishment. Disobey, and you will learn your own lesson about the costs of betraying loyalty to the Scotts.” Beside me my sister shifted, putting her weight forward like a wrestler waiting for a match to start. Relief pounded through me—at least she was on my side.
There was a long pause as the elves looked at each other, some hidden communication clearly shared among them. Then Beron slowly turned back to me and nodded once. “Very well,” he said, then turned and began walking away, followed almost immediately by Hobany. They crossed the clearing to the pile of rocks, then disappeared inside Underhill.
For a second I thought that everything would be okay.
Then Nokke hissed, opening his mouth wide to reveal a gummy smile more suited to an octogenarian anticipating pudding, but then at least fifty serrated teeth slid easily out of the gums, and I knew without a doubt that the attempts at diplomacy had ended and that the only course now was to fight. “I’ve bent my neck to your mother for long enough when it suited me, little vampire, but I will not be dictated to in this matter,” Nokke said. And then everyone was moving at once.
Iron Night Page 30
