Faerie Empire: An Urban Fantasy Novel (Vampire's Bane Book 2)

by Marian Maxwell

  The driver hustled through a door off to the side. Headed to Maggie’s old room to drop off the bags. Maggie had cleared it out two days prior, moving her things to a small room that was used for intense prayer and penance, but was technically a monk’s chamber. Spartan, like a jail cell.

  Julia gazed up at the stained glass window shining down from the back of the church. Without looking, Maggie knew that it bore the visage of Christ and his angels in heaven, holding out their arms in pity and looking down upon a mass of sinners below. The sinners reached for the heavens, expressions pained, yearning. Not yet realizing that they were firmly rooted to the earth.

  Maggie broke the silence. “We are thankful that you came,” she said. She walked with the confidence befitting a priest, up the steps to the altar.

  Julia pointed her long, thin arm and long, thin finger. A sword directing Maggie to the front pew.

  Maggie gulped, and felt the blood drain from her face. She turned, hoping that Julia had not seen her weakness. Held onto her composure and walked smoothly to the pew, where she turned back to face her Bishop, ran her hands over the back of her robe, and sat on the hard, wooden bench.

  But Julia’s finger had not been pointing at the bench.

  “Kneel,” she commanded, in a voice so iron cold that Maggie shivered to hear it.

  I should have known, thought Maggie, falling to her knees. I cannot escape my sins.

  “I have failed you,” she said.

  “Say it louder, so the Lord can hear.”

  “I have failed you!” Maggie cried.

  Bishop Julia leaned forward, touching the tips of her fingers together. She fixed her bright blue eyes on Maggie. “Who is this ‘we’ that is thankful for my return? Is it the ocean of lost ungifted, wandering the streets? Or is it the gifted, who denigrate themselves by night, and by day pride themselves on their rational atheism?”

  “It is all of us, Bishop. Although they are lost, they still need the light.”

  “No. There is no saving them.”

  The anger behind Julia’s words drew Maggie’s gaze up from the ground to finally meet the eye of the woman who had given her stewardship over the souls of San Francisco.

  Julia’s nostrils flared, but she otherwise remained impassive. “This city is filled with the rot of sin. Worse, even, than when I left it. While I spread the Word of God across the continents, sleeping in tents and open fields, praying over the bodies of the wretchedly poor, what did you do? I’ll tell you. I have heard of what this city has become. It can only mean one thing: that you have grown lax in your duties.” Julia stabbed her finger at Maggie, who cringed and felt as if it was being driven into her flesh.

  “Comfortable,” the Bishop snarled, showing long, white teeth. “Forgiving the sins of anyone who wanders into this holy ground. We should be thankful that the Lord’s forgiveness it not so easily earned.” She shook her head, and leaned to rest her back against the cushioned chair.

  “This place is worse than when I left it,” she repeated. “And you, Maggie, my child, are to blame.”

  Maggie clasped her hands together so hard that they hurt. Begging for mercy that would not come. “I did what I could,” she said, and her words had the strength of belief. “The city has changed. Many people have come through these doors and—”

  “I am sorry,” said Julia, interrupting. “Sorry to have failed you. Kindness is the first act of cruelty. It was my mistake not to lash it out of your disposition.” She shook her head. “The souls of this rotten city do not need your kindness, priest Maggie. What they need is faith in God! Nothing else matters!”

  Julia was truly angered now. Her eyes lit up with a feverish light. She gripped the silver cross hanging from her neck as she spoke her next words.

  “The people of this city have fallen into hell. Your kindness led them there. You gave them an easy path, of quick forgiveness. Tolerant. Welcoming of…” Julia’s lips twisted into a grimace. “All walks of life.”

  “There is no room for weakness in our Church,” she said, suddenly rising from her chair and stepping down, next to Maggie, to tower over her old pupil. “We have standards. Expectations that must be maintained. How can they find God when you tell them they can act however they want? You are disappointing. So very disappointing.”

  The heels of Julia’s leather boots clicked against the smooth granite floor as she paced in a circle around Maggie’s kneeling, downcast form. “And you have the gall to don the white robes of purity.” Her voice dripped with scorn.

  Maggie was too old, too experienced in the world to cry. All she felt was deep grief, for herself, the Church, and the city, that she had failed. For now, I must put myself aside. What becomes of me does not matter. Julia must be told about the necromancer, and put an end to him.

  “There is a necromancer at work in the city,” said Maggie. “He raised a force of ghouls and killed sixty gifted.”

  Julia raised an eyebrow. “I am aware of the necromancer. Tell me about the deaths.”

  Maggie recounted the events of the massacre, judging by Julia’s sighs and breathing patterns how she felt about it. Maggie’s inability to prevent it from happening, failing to catch the necromancer, the fact that the attack took place in a den of debauchery…It was a tangled mess of evil and sin. There was only one piece of good news.

  “At the end of it,” Maggie explained, “I was able to divine the necromancer’s location. I know where his lair is…or was.”

  “This was days ago. Why have you not confronted him?”

  “I-I do not have enough followers to stand with me. The Academy is dealing with a crisis. Our councillor is missing, and the enforcers are too few in number to spare anyone.”

  “I understand,” said Julia, crisply. “Perhaps I should thank this necromancer for speeding up what was bound to occur.”

  “What do you mean?” Maggie asked, dreading the answer.

  “The demise of this city,” Julia replied. She stopped pacing across the cathedral floor, and once again turned her gaze to the stained glass window. “It is too far gone. It must be cleansed, so that we can build anew.”

  “You don’t mean—”

  “Yes. Sanctus Ignis. We shall do nothing. And I do mean we. You will not lift a finger to help the souls of this city. We will offer refuge to those that come to the cathedral, but that is all. The troubles they are in are of their own doing, the consequences of their sins. Our interference would be sacrilege. What comes will come. And from the wreckage I shall gather the survivors, smite the evil left behind, and build a new Church. A strong Church, without your false kindness.”

  A new set of feet came whispering down the middle aisle to the front of the cathedral. Maggie looked over her shoulder and saw a man dressed in a plain black priest’s robe, with the white collar and black, white-brimmed pilgrim’s hat. How long has he been listening?

  “Your time here is done,” said Julia. The words dropped like a tombstone. “Demian is here to relieve you of your duties. Pack your things and go. Send a letter to the Holy See. Tell them what I have done, and await your next assignment. This city holds nothing for you.”

  When Maggie did not move, Julia’s voice cracked like a whip. “Leave! Be glad that I am merciful.”

  Maggie stood, stiff from kneeling for so long. She held her chin high and walked to the small monk’s chamber where her wooden chest and few other belongings were stored.

  Ten minutes later she was out in the rain, robes covered by her grey cloak, hailing a taxi from the sidewalk.

  Screw your orders, Maggie thought, as a yellow taxi pulled up next to her. I’m not leaving this city. I’ll go to the necromancer alone, if I have to. Logan was right. The time for waiting is over.

  The taxi driver helped put her wooden chest and other belongings in the trunk. Once they were inside, he looked at Maggie’s cloak quizzically and asked, “Where to?”

  “1548 Oak Street,” said Maggie, giving the ungifted address of the magi enforcer HQ.
/>
  I have to find Logan.

  23

  “Black and blood,” Vestrix swore. “You idiots let her go?”

  The members of Black Gauntlet who had stayed behind shrugged their shoulders. “We didn’t see her. She must have slipped out, along with everyone else.”

  “You fools have no idea how dangerous this is, do you? If Lord Korka gets hold of her, it’s over. Do you understand? He will control all of Lodum.” Fuming, Vestrix transformed into a giant raven and took off, not even waiting for the replies from her underlings.

  Good fighters. Slow thinkers. I need to recruit more seers, and less shifters.

  Making the mental note, the Lady of Arrows flapped her giant wings. The city lay before her like an open map. She passed over the Merchant’s District, and the charred ruins where the humans had once lived, and headed for Turndour Keep. Hoping that she wouldn’t be too late.

  The enemy reinforcements were already on their feet. A few of them had been quick enough to slip around the side of Suri’s spell and enter the fray in the courtyard. The rest were trapped between the closed drawbridge and her red, pulsing orb of death magic.

  The creaking of chains. The drawbridge began to lower. Suri looked up, saw that the top of the wall had been taken by a pair of gifted fae—wait, one was a human. A girl, younger than Suri, with short black hair.

  Suri dove aside and evaded the magic missile the girl had hastily casted. Suri’s hood had dropped at some point during the battle, and her thick, red hair waved freely in the air. A flag for Raja, who appeared almost immediately at her side.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” he said, sounding very concerned.

  So now you care about me. Only when I’m not cooped up inside.

  Suri distanced herself from him. She held back her arm, felt it tremble from gathered magic, and hurled a beam of death magic at the human.

  She started it. What the hell is she even doing on their side, anyways?

  The girl looked surprised at how fast Suri had responded to her attack. Her eyes went wide. She ducked, but it wasn’t enough. Suri raised her hand, channeling her connection to the beam of magic and directed it mid-flight. It curved an arms length from where the girl crouched. Instead of missing, now aiming for the side of her leg.

  It was about to connect and leave a nasty wound when the fae next to the girl summoned a shield of pale light. The red beam connected with the shield, cracked it into pieces, and continued on. But the hastily summoned shield had absorbed most of the spell power. Only a fraction of it hit the girl. It was enough to make her shout in pain, and hobble back from her position at the edge of the wall.

  “Hey, idiot!” Suri yelled up at the girl. “You’re on the wrong side! A councillor is inside the keep! A councillor!”

  Nothing. No reply.

  Suri spun and raised her sword, sensing a presence behind her.

  It was only Raja.

  “What do you want?” Suri snarled at him. “Stop following me! We’ve got to mission to carry out.”

  “We’re leaving,” said Raja, in a stony, no-nonsense voice.

  “Don’t touch me,” Suri seethed, when Raja put his hand on her arm. She jerked it away. “It’s over, okay? I already snuck out. I’m here. Best way to get me back is to finish the mission. Otherwise, you’ll have to force me. And I think we both know how that would go.” A wicked smile played upon her lips.

  Raja sucked in a deep breath. He quickly scanned the nearby area for enemies. Readjusted the grip on his sword. The blade was covered in so much blood that it was difficult to find the metal.

  “To me!” He roared, so loudly that Suri reeled backwards. “Quintalo estri!”

  Suri rushed across the courtyard for the one and only door leading inside Turndour Keep. She shut out the screams coming from the enemy reinforcements who had been unable to escape her orb.

  An enemy guard appeared in front of her, spinning out from the fray. Their eyes met. He raised his sword. Raja skewered him from the side, and kicked him to the ground.

  All of the Black Gauntlet mercenaries in the courtyard had rallied to his call. They swarmed forward, ahead of Suri, making a protective circle around her. The fighters made a wall that she could not pass. Raja, of course, was in the clear, at the tip of the group, leading the charge toward the small metal door.

  A spell hit them from above, blasting two of the rallied fighters off their feet with the force of an artillery shell. Suri whirled, chanted the words of a defensive spell that neutralizes any magic within ten metres of her body. All magic, including her own.

  Lorace had the same idea. She had found her way next to Suri. Winked, and casted the same spell at the same time. The effect was doubly powerful.

  The next enemy spell soared through the air. Suri saw it then, a giant fireball—that fizzled as it entered the zone of her and Lorace’s combined defense. Shrunk down to the size of a baseball. It bounced off the shoulder of a shifter ally, who growled up at the fae who had casted it.

  Suri saw the fae too, floating in the air with the human girl next to him. He was wearing…

  Jeans and a tee-shirt? What the heck?

  Suri didn’t have time to think about it. They were almost at the door to the keep. Most of the original guards were dead. The rest were holding defensive positions in corners of the courtyard, or fighting Vestrix’s tiger shifter lieutenant up on the wall. From the fighting so far, it looked to Suri like most of the Black Gauntlet forces were shifters who had never picked up a spell book. Meaning the fact that they couldn’t cast spells within the defensive zone didn’t matter. The two mages floating in the air above had been nullified, with little effect on the attackers.

  If they want to continue the fight, they can land their pretty little feet on the ground and try it.

  To Suri’s chagrin, they did just that. The fae touched down first, his young, chubby face pulled into a serious frown. The girl landed behind him a second later, and he said something into her ear. She nodded.

  The soldiers who had come with them, and survived Suri’s spell, gathered next to them in a force that rivalled Black Gauntlet’s. But they were on the wrong side of the courtyard, close to the drawbridge. Nothing stood between Suri’s group and the door to the keep.

  A fae fell screaming from the wall, arms flailing, and hit the ground with a heavy thump. Vestrix’s lieutenant swirled his blade staff in the air above his head. More fae fell from the wall. Suri cheered. Then her view was blocked.

  A mercenary ran past her as he shifted, turning into a massive, silverback gorilla. He grabbed the locked door with giant hands and yanked on it with all his strength.

  The door creaked, shuddered, groaned on its hinges. It did not come off.

  The gorilla walked backwards, not even caring when his knuckles passed through a patch of burning flame. Then he charged, and smashed into the door with his shoulder. Still it held.

  Suri glanced back. The fae in the jeans had returned to the wall. He was squared off with the lieutenant. He parried the tiger shifter’s spinning blade staff, lunged forward with his sword, and forced Black Gauntlet’s champion fighter back a step.

  Meanwhile, the human girl stood with a retinue of fully armored guards. A wind picked up around the girl, and the girl alone. Her black hair fluttered and swept across her face, even as the rest of the courtyard was still. Her feet were planted, eyes set in a glare straight at Suri. Arms straight out and palms facing forward, fingers slightly curled.

  She pulled back her arms, keeping the heels of her palms together and still facing toward Suri and the group. As if to throw a spell, but there was nothing that Suri could see.

  Is she trying to kamehameha?

  It was a spell that only Masters knew. There was no way…but what else could she be casting?

  “Spell incoming!” Suri roared. She boosted her strength and shoved the gorilla shifter next to her, making him stumble to the side.

  “Scatter!” Raja yelled.

  Some of the
mercenaries dropped and lay flat on the ground, eyes up to see where the attack was coming from. Others jumped and rolled to the side, and some took off at a sprint.

  The human girl shouted. Her voice rang through the courtyard. Her whole body shimmered green. She thrust her arms, and the kame spell, the workings of which was a highly kept secret, blasted out from her palms.

  But it’s not a kame spell, Suri realized. She rolled aside and watched it pass through the air. It’s far more powerful!

  The spell rolled out from the girl’s palms, twisting and churning, boiling the air around it. A river shimmering with silver-blue light.

  It blasted through Suri and Lorace’s defensive spell. Melted the door of the keep, but that was not all. It melted the rocks of the keep’s foundation, too. It took a chunk out of the front of the stone tower, and then from the back on its exit. Leaving two gaping holes. Even the girl looked shocked. Then her lips curled into an arrogant smile.

  She seems not to care that it didn’t hit any of us. No, she’s after something else altogether. Strange! I’ll have to tell Vestrix.

  As Suri and the other mercenaries picked themselves off the barren courtyard, the enemy reinforcements rushed forward. Breastplates and helms shining, heavy swords raised to deliver a mortal blow. For all their vigor, they held to discipline. Not one broke ranks and went ahead of the others. Neither did any lagger behind. They kept to a solid wall of heavy metal, closing in to chew up the scattered attackers.

  Raja was the first to his feet. He grabbed the man next to him by the collar and pulled him up. The mercenaries who had escaped furthest from the kame spell backed away even more, getting out of the way of the steel wall. Planning to loop around and hit the attackers from behind. But by then it would be too late; the rest of the Black Gauntlet forces would be dead.

  The silverback gorilla pounded both hands on the dirt, smacking it like a war drum. Leaned toward the oncoming soldiers and let out the greatest roar that Suri had ever heard. It sounded like a runaway freight train crashing into an ocean of glass.