She's No Faerie Princess

by Christine Warren

  "And no one else saw?"

  The imp grinned. "We isn't allowed in the queen's scrying rooms. She saying something about us being untrustable. So now we only goes there by sneakiness."

  By this time, Babbage had caught on to the new protocol and he was jumping up and down like a hyperactive Chihuahua, waving both of his hands in the air above his head. Fiona could see his little face turning gradually purple as he held his breath to keep himself from speaking out of turn and making her yell at him again.

  She sighed. "What is it, Babbage?"

  "Your Highness!" The words all but exploded from his mouth. "Your Highness, my heart nearly stopped when I tracked the imp down to the scrying chamber and he told me what he had seen! We came immediately to rescue you!" He rounded on Walker and raised his tiny fists into a boxing stance, fluttering back and forth in a Muhammad Ali meets Tinker Bell impersonation. "Stand back, loathsome sorcerer!" he shouted. "I will avenge your crimes against my mistress!"

  Fiona seriously considered pulling the sheet up farther. Like over her head.

  Walker raised an eyebrow and looked down at the hovering pixie. Then he raised the other eyebrow and looked at Fiona. "He's joking, right?"

  "En garde!"

  Babbage's war cry sounded more like a girlish scream or maybe a hungry baby bird, but he followed through with a direct charge straight at Walker's throat.

  What the idiot hoped to accomplish, Walker had no idea, but he put a stop to the attack with the simple defense of one large finger pressed against the pugnacious pixie's sternum. Naturally, it overlapped onto his chest, stomach, and really most of his torso.

  "I guess he's not kidding," Walker drawled. As if it weren't bad enough that he'd been woken out of a sound sleep with his mate slumbering peacefully beside him, now the weird little creatures that had done the waking had decided they needed to try to poke his eyes out or something.

  "Babbage, quit it!" Fiona grabbed the pixie by his tunic and hauled him away from Walker, setting Babbage down on the mattress and glaring at him sternly. "Now, how about you tell me what the hell is going on? This time without all the histrionics and melodrama."

  Walker watched the pint-sized pest struggle with what looked like a righteous sulk before he grudgingly answered the question.

  "We came to rescue you," Babbage pouted. "Why else would you have appeared in the scrying bowl, if not to cry for help? I couldn't think of any other reason. If you weren't being held captive against your will, you could have just returned to the gate and come home. As you should have. We didn't realize until we tried it ourselves that the gate had malfunctioned."

  It looked like Fiona was used to being lectured by this pipsqueak, because she didn't bother to snap at the thing the way she would have at Walker if he'd said anything close to it. They were going to have to work on that.

  "I couldn't come home," she said. "The gate's not working at either end, apparently. Someone put some kind of seal on it. I tried to get through a couple of days ago and ended up unconscious for a good few minutes."

  The red one, the one without wings but with tiny little devil's horns poking out of his forehead, frowned. "That don't sound well."

  "Doesn't sound good, Squick."

  "That were what I said. It would takes a lot of magic to seal a gates like that, and why woulds anyone want to? The queen already keep a tight lock on who go in and out. She be more fretful over us coming here than them going there, if you take my meanings."

  "I haven't figured out why," Fiona said. "At first I thought it might have something to do with Uncle Dionnu and his being here for the negotiations without telling Aunt Mab about them, but that doesn't really make sense. He's never been afraid of upsetting her before, so why should he worry now?"

  The pixie's eyes widened. "King Dionnu is here? In the mortal world?"

  "I know. That was my reaction."

  Briefly, Fiona outlined why Dionnu had come to Manhattan and what he claimed he intended to gain from the visit. Both uninvited guests looked as skeptical as their princess.

  "I doesn't know, Miss Fiona," the red fellow said. "You knows I'm not the devious sort, but it sound to me like the king might being up to something."

  His small, pointy tail twitched from side to side as he said it, and Walker found himself suppressing a snort. The little guy looked like everyone's childhood vision of the devil. All he needed was a pitchfork and a pointy black goatee to complete the image.

  "Yeah, I had an inkling." Fiona's voice was dry, her mouth wry. "But I don't have time to try and figure out what he has up his sleeve. There are other things going on that take precedence over Uncle Dionnu's eternal quest for whatever he can get."

  "Like what?" Babbage asked.

  "You mean aside from the fact that someone sealed off the gate and then put a spell on the glass and the scrying bowl to make them explode if anyone established contact between here and Faerie?" She paused. "Well, we do seem to have a couple of demons on our hands."

  "Demons?"

  They said it in chorus, both tiny faces going slack with shock, then blank with horror.

  "How can that be?"

  "Can't be true! Hasn't been a demons up from Below in… in… I can't remembers how long!"

  "Maybe not where you're from," Walker threw in, "but here in the real world, we have the occasional visitor. Usually they're just here long enough to eat the one who summoned them, then they go home. But these guys don't seem to be following the standard rules. They're sure as hell not sticking inside some tidy little circles."

  Fiona jumped in to explain what she had found, and her miniature audience listened with surprising attention. Neither one interrupted or even moved until Fiona had related the whole of the tale.

  "That's the real reason I was trying to contact the queen," she said. "I'm afraid that if I ask too many human sorcerers, I'll tip off the summoner that we're on to him, so I was hoping Aunt Mab would give me access to the royal library. That way I could do some research on the sigils myself, see if I could come up with an identity of at least one of the demons. Even that much might help me trace it back to the one who called it."

  Babbage shook his head. "The queen would not like this idea, Your Highness. I believe she would be more inclined to order you to return to the palace immediately, rather than give you the keys to her library. You know she would never countenance you putting yourself in danger this way."

  "Fiona isn't going to be in any danger. Not while I'm around." Walker didn't appreciate the idea of anyone implying he couldn't take care of his mate, whether they knew she was his mate or not. If another pack member had said such a thing, there would have been a battle.

  Somehow, even from two and a half feet below his eye line, the pixie managed to look down his nose at Walker. "You may be willing to try, wolf, but you can't stop a spell the way you can someone's fist."

  His eyes narrowed. "I can stop your mouth, if you don't watch it, Tinker Bell."

  Fiona shushed them both. "It doesn't really matter what the queen would or wouldn't countenance, Babb. And it doesn't matter who orders me to go home at this point. I can't. The gate is sealed, and until I figure out how to get it open again—which is going to have to wait until after I take care of the demon business—I'm staying right here."

  Walker clenched his teeth. She'd be staying right here for a long time after that bloody gate was open. She just didn't realize it yet. But there was no way in hell he'd let her leave his apartment, let alone his world. Not unless he was walking right alongside of her. He'd thought she was starting to understand after their discussion last night, but now it looked like a little more persuasion might be in order.

  The little devil hopped over to sit near Fiona's knees and braced his hands on his hips. "Can you showed me what the marks looks like? I might could be big helps."

  "How?"

  Squick threw Walker an impatient scowl. "I's an imp, that's how. I gots friends in warm places."

  Fiona explained, "Imps a
re Fae, but that's mostly because they sided with us during the Wars. They actually started out as hybrids—part demon, part Fae."

  "Part pixie, to be specific," the imp sniffed, and shot Babbage a smirk. "But us seen which way the wind were blowing during the fighting, so we decides to sign on with the white sheep of the family and fighted for the king and queen. Since then, Their Majesties hasn't been able to live without us."

  "Hasn't been able to get rid of you," Babbage grumbled.

  "Haven't," Fiona corrected.

  Wondering if maybe he should have taken those aspirin after all, Walker shook his head. "I'm starting to think I'm going to need a crash course in the history of the Fae-Demon Wars before this is all over."

  "All yous needs to know," Squick said, puffing out his chest, "is that if anybody can finds out what demon left its sigil on these bodies of yours, I'm them."

  "It," Walker growled.

  "That's what I said. So, can you sketches them out for me, Miss Fiona?"

  She nodded and a pad and pen appeared on her lap. "The sorcerer is human, so I doubt you'd recognize his mark. I'll just show you the sigils that named the demon and gave it its orders." Quickly Fiona sketched the same ugly lines Walker had seen her draw in the dirt the other night. They didn't look any prettier in the light of day or any more familiar. "That's what I saw. I may be off a line or two, but I think I got pretty close; don't you, Walker?"

  He nodded. "That's what I remember."

  "Do you recognize any of them, Squick?"

  "Not too much. At least, nots the name glyphs," he said, frowning. "But let me takes the paper, and I do some checking."

  Fiona swore. "You can't. The gate is closed. Who are you going to ask if you can't get back to Faerie?"

  "There be more than one gates in this world, Miss Fiona, and not every one lead to Faerie."

  Babbage made a choked coughing sound. "You can't mean to go Below and ask, Squick! That would be a suicide mission! Imps are about as welcome Below as demons are Above."

  Walker had heard the term "Below" before. It was how the Fae and historians referred to the plane of existence the Fae had banished the demons to after the end of the Wars. You couldn't call it hell, but only because of the lack of the souls of dead humans. It was still a bleak, malevolent world populated entirely by demons and any Fae who had been labeled traitors during the conflict. In comparison, every place that wasn't Below started being called Above.

  Squick's small red chest puffed out even more. "I cans handle myselves," the imp assured them. "Some of we don't needs wings to move fastly."

  "Squick, I don't know. I don't want to put you in any danger. This isn't really your problem."

  "I puts myself where we wants to be."

  Walker frowned, and Fiona didn't look convinced. She looked worried. Apparently, she really cared what happened to the annoying little buggers, and that meant Walker did, too.

  Damn, this mate thing was already getting complicated.

  Seeing the stubborn look on the imp's face, Walker chimed in to back up Fiona and Babbage. "I'm not sure that's a good idea, Squick. The information is important, but it won't do us any good if you get killed finding it. Then we're out the information and an imp. Can't you find anyplace else to ask around that isn't Below?"

  "Who else be knowing about demons but themself? Well, and the Fae chroniclers, but if we can't gets back to the palace, we can't very well asks him, can us?"

  Fiona still looked worried. "Squick, I don't like it. Walker's right. You could be killed."

  "I can takes care of myselves," he said firmly. Before anyone could offer another protest, he snatched the paper from her hands and folded it into a small triangle that disappeared when he blew on it. "I finds out about your demon. Maybe if the pixie wants to make hisself useful, he can sees what's what at the gate. At least he wouldn't being a total wastes of magic, then."

  Babbage puffed up like a frightened Persian cat, but Fiona cut off his indignant protest. "No, I don't like the idea of you splitting up, let alone of one of you going Below all on your own."

  Babbage turned whiter than Walker's sheets.

  Squick just snorted. "What? I is supposed to take the pixie with me? And if thing didn't goes finely, I's could always bargain his wings away in exchanges for safe passage. Them make good snacking, demons say." He shook his head. "No, Miss Fiona. Better off to go and go on my owns. Sneakier that ways." He threw Walker a speaking glance. "Faster, too."

  Walker nodded grimly. "Fast would be good."

  At least on locating the demon. The pixie could take all the time in the world figuring out what was keeping Fiona from going back through the Faerie gate, as far as Walker was concerned.

  Realizing he was not being sent Below to accompany Squick, Babbage began breathing again. "Well, I'm glad that's settled." He cleared his throat. "I can certainly take a look at the gate and see if I can discern what kind of hex is on it and who put it there. Yes, I'm happy to do that! We all have to stick to our strengths, after all."

  He practically whistled a tune of relief, but Fiona continued to frown. "I have a bad feeling about this," she said. "I wish you wouldn't go, Squick."

  "Oh, Miss Fiona, you worries too much. Nothings will happen to me. I come back finer than before, you see. And I brings back the names of the demon so we can sends it back Below where it belonging. Imp's promise."

  Walker got the feeling an imp's promise didn't hold quite the weight Squick had invested in it.

  "All right," Fiona agreed grudgingly. "It's clear I can't stop you when your mind is already made up, but I expect you to be careful. Both of you."

  The Fae nodded. "We will," they said in unison, and they swept Fiona a pair of elegant bows before turning and blinking out of the room.

  Fiona continued to stare at the spot where they had disappeared for a long minute after they had gone, and Walker sat beside her, his hand resting on her back.

  "I do have a bad feeling," she murmured, and he saw the little crease in the skin between her eyebrows. "Something bad is going to happen to them. I know it."

  Slipping his arms all the way around her, Walker tugged Fiona against his side and nuzzled her hair. "I think they can take care of themselves. You heard Squick. It will be okay, Princess."

  She raised her eyes to his and forced a smile. "Does this mate thing give you the ability to see into the future? Because if it does, I feel gypped. Where's my new superpower?"

  Walker shook his head and felt his jaw firm. "No, I can't see the future, but I can have a little faith. And if that doesn't work, I can always go in and haul their butts out of the fire."

  * * *

  CHAPTER 19

  The next morning interruption didn't come until both Walker and Fiona had dressed and settled down in the living room late that evening with a large pizza, a six-pack of very nice British ale, and a DVD recording of The Return of the King.

  Fiona's plans for the evening had involved more pacing and less relaxing, but Walker had been determined to take her mind off her fears. When nothing else had worked, he'd badgered her into the dinner-and-a-movie idea. She refused to go out, but the pizza place delivered, and he'd had the beer in the fridge. The movie had been a choice between the latest macho action flick and the fantasy epic. Fiona had voted for the latter because she said she liked to watch the blond elf character and make fun of his silly little stunts.

  She sat on the sofa snuggled against Walker's side, munching on pizza and talking about how impractical those long, flowing locks were for a real warrior. No one on the Queen's Guard would give an enemy something so easy to grab onto.

  When the phone rang, Walker grunted and set aside his beer to reach for the receiver. "Yeah?"

  "Hey, Uncle Tobe," Jake said into the phone. "How's it going?"

  The casual greeting sounded just like Walker's nephew, but the tone of voice didn't. Instead of the breezy, smart-ass sound Walker was used to, he heard nerves in the younger man's voice. Nerves and pain. He sa
t up straight.

  "Jake, what's wrong?" he demanded.

  Fiona's gaze snapped away from the television and locked on his face, her brows furrowing. "What's the matter?"

  He shook his head, his own stomach clenching in fear. "Jake?"

  "I, ah… I was hoping you could come over here for a while. I'm… I'm at Mom's house."

  Walker's stomach abruptly stopped clenching and shot up into his throat. He heard the hoarse tone of his own voice when he finally forced out the question. "Is she okay?"

  Rachel, Jake's mom, was Walker's baby sister—even if she was three years older than him—and his closest relative. Their parents had retired to Florida several years ago, but even while they had lived in the city, Rachel and Walker had always relied more on each other. When her husband, a police officer, had been killed in the line of duty ten years ago while Jake was just a pup, it had been Walker who'd seen her through it. He'd been the one who stood by her side even when she'd been surrounded by two huge, supportive families—the police department and the pack, the Silverback Clan. She'd cried on his shoulder, and the idea of her hurt or worse had him as close to panic as he could ever remember being.

  "No, uh… Mom's… Mom is fine," Jake said, but Walker wasn't reassured. He could hear the little breaks in his nephew's voice. "Mom's fine. It's Aunt Shelby. She's dead."

  Walker's gut twisted. He couldn't fight the surge of relief at hearing Rachel was all right, but he'd known her best friend, Shelby, since high school. How could she be dead?

  He didn't know how much of the conversation Fiona could hear or what expression he wore, but she must have sensed something. Her small hand covered his and squeezed, the warmth exactly what he needed just then. He turned his hand over and twined their fingers together.

  "What happened? Was there an accident?"

  "No. No, Uncle Tobe. They were attacked." The teenager drew in a shaky breath and forced the words out with obvious effort. "She and Mom had a date tonight. You know, a girls' night out. They were walking home from that little dive of a restaurant they like down in the Bowery, and something jumped them. Mom's still real shaken up. Can you come over?"