A huge fissure bisected the block of cement. With some kicking, I managed to get our feet free.
The serpents got nearer . . . and at last I saw them well enough to know that they weren’t serpents.
They were tentacles.
Change, damn you! I ordered one last time.
The black silver bonds began tearing apart. We shook them away as quickly as we could.
Free! we both screamed. Free!
Wings burst from our back. Our arms became forelegs and our hands and feet great paws. Our face stretched forward, becoming a long muzzle.
We pushed toward the surface and air.
Tentacles suddenly surrounded us.
Our wings acted as fins, thrusting us just above a grasping appendage. A half dozen more tentacles darted after us. We knew that if even one tentacle reached us before we got to the surface, we would not escape.
The surface teased us. No matter how hard we pushed with our wings, it seemed out of reach. Still, we had no choice but to keep trying. Our lungs strained as even the power of the Gate and the dragon began to reach its limits.
The water grew more turbulent. It slowed us but also encouraged us. We were near the top, where the weather had more say. Just a little farther—
We broke the surface. A violent lake storm assailed us, but we welcomed it as we pushed out of the water and into the air—
Something grabbed one back leg. With a raspy roar, we twisted in the air. Our leg came free and we shoved high into the heavens.
As we ascended, we took in great gulps of air. Our heart began pounding at less than a frantic pace. With some sense returning, we took a glance below. The lake waters roiled, but there was no sign of whatever had sought us.
Despite now having air, it became harder to stay aloft. Our time in the lake had drained us too much. The shore beckoned, but the storm made it hard to gain much distance. Weakened, it took twice as many beats of our wings to gain even a small distance.
We—I—thought of Claryce. That gave me, if not him, the impetus to push harder. The combination of the storm and the night protected us from prying eyes, but we knew that we still had to find a reasonable place to land the moment we reached the shore.
An empty beach lay directly ahead. It looked familiar, but our thoughts were still too addled to know just why. We focused hard on reaching it—
And then a glorious arch shimmered into being before us. It had colors in it that no rainbow could match. It stretched high above Chicago on one end and touched the lake at the other. It formed without warning so near to us that we had no chance to stop our momentum.
Despite our efforts to pull back, we fell through the Gate into Feirie.
I don’t recall what happened immediately after that. The crossing into Feirie combined with our already overstrained body left us with little once we reached the dark green, endless forest. I do know we attempted to keep ourselves steady, only to crash into the treetops before crushing an entire section with our final drop to the ground.
How long we lay there, I couldn’t say. When did we revert back to me was another question without an answer.
How long Her Lady had us as her unconscious guest, I sorely wished I knew.
I woke up in a bed of soft brown leaves and scarlet flowers, the latter of which gave off a heady perfume that nearly made me fall asleep again. Fighting off the effect, I wondered if she’d purposely chosen them for that perfume.
I was clad in my clothes and overcoat, an effect of the spell surrounding the dragon and me, not any act of respect by my host. Even Her Lady was careful around any magic associated with the Gate. Unlike her former husband, she knew that tampering with the Gate could lead to a collapse of both sides. That didn’t mean that she didn’t have ways of manipulating things, just that she was more careful.
I didn’t bother reaching for the sword. She wouldn’t take that, either. Her Lady’s games were often more subtle.
I noticed a clay mug and ceramic jug to my left, two items I knew hadn’t been there a moment before. As I reached for them, I heard slight giggles. I didn’t need to see the source of the sound to know that they were sprites. Over the centuries, I’d confronted a variety of the throne’s servants. Large or small, they had one thing in common; they could be very deadly.
I considered not drinking anything, but despite my earlier drowning I was now as parched as a desert. I poured some of the contents into the mug, inspected the deep red liquid for a moment, then swallowed some. It was good.
Maybe too good. Maybe I’d been mistaken about what she might try. Or maybe I was just still too exhausted. I’d barely downed the wine before I dozed off again.
And when I opened my eyes, there she was. Just two inches away from my face. If I’d even lifted my head a little, we’d have been kissing; not at all a coincidence, I knew. Her Lady desired power. As the guardian of the Gate, I had power even she couldn’t wield . . . but she could always hope to control it by controlling its wielder.
She had a dark, alluring perfection. Her long midnight hair draped an ivory face with deep red lips and black, so very black, eyes that could lure most creatures to her. She was taller than me and slim yet still curved in all the right ways. She word a gown of ebony and forest green shadow.
Her darling Gatekeeper . . .
She generally spoke in the third person, for what reason I wasn’t sure but thought had to do with power and hierarchy. She also tended to speak in my mind, which meant I had to be careful with my thoughts at all time.
She smiled, yet another seduction. I remained exactly where I was.
Finally, she straightened. I casually pushed myself up on my elbows. As I did, the large oaks around me shifted position. Nothing in Feirie remained fixed. Everything in Feirie was very fluid, especially the elves themselves. Right now, I expected that those tree hid several of Her Lady’s courtiers, especially her seneschal, who was a jealous sort no doubt hoping to share her throne.
I shifted to a sitting position, then allowed my equilibrium to catch up. The dragon had stayed silent all this time, but I could now feel him stirring in the recesses of my brain. He trusted her even less than I did. Feeling as I did at the moment, I was glad for his company.
How delightful for you to say so. . . he remarked slyly. Eye am honored . . .
Quiet. I glanced at the queen of Feirie, but noticed nothing that suggested she’d been able to eavesdrop on our conversation. Her ability to read thoughts generally did not include any conversation involving the dragon unless he or I wished it so. Still, it paid to be cautious.
“Sorry to come without calling first,” I commented.
Her Lady’s Gatekeeper is always welcome . . . She gently touched the top of my left hand. And may stay as long as he likes . . .
I didn’t pull my hand away, but neither did I react to her touch. Above us, a raven cawed. Her Lady didn’t look up, but I knew a part of her was paying attention to the bird.
The raven circled once, then descended. It alighted on the ground next to us, then swelled in size. As it did, it shifted form, becoming a lanky male elf with angular features and brooding eyes. He wore black and forest green garments reminiscent of a medieval courtier’s garb. A dark green cloak with black borders draped over his shoulders.
The seneschal eyed me with suspicion. I smiled, just because I knew a show of confidence would irritate him. In my head, the dragon radiated approval. Neither of us had any use for the elf.
He bowed to Her Lady, then stared.
“Come now,” she abruptly said, each word a symphony of seduction. “She would have you speak before her honored guests.”
I didn’t miss her use of the plural. She was well aware that the dragon listened as well.
“As my queen so wisely commands,” he returned, his voice low and akin to the winter wind we’d recently left behind. The seneschal gave me an exaggerated bow, a subtle sign of his actual feelings toward me. “After all, he is responsible for so much.”
&nb
sp; I frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Her Lady said nothing. The seneschal gave me a look that, in Feirie, could probably have literally killed . . . at least others. “A card has been played.”
I stiffened, and if he could’ve the dragon would’ve done the same. “What do you mean? What card?”
“There is only one card with which we deal here . . .” The condescension grew in his voice. “Its trace is unique, Gatekeeper. All their traces are unique.”
I knew that last, but I hadn’t known that it could be sensed here in Feirie. That bothered me. I had no doubt that Her Lady desired the card Kravayik and I guarded. One of the reasons I’d put it where I had.
But there was a problem. “The card remains where it was. Safe and untouched. With Kravayik to keep it so.”
I saw a different sort of darkness pass over the seneschal’s countenance. There was a personal history there, which said something in Feirie.
“She of course trusts her Kravayik in this,” Her Lady interjected before her servant could perhaps make an indelicate remark, “but it is true, our darling Gatekeeper. The card has seen use again.”
“By the measure of your realm, the last play in hours, no more.” I could see the seneschal struggling to keep from sneering.
Hours. Obviously it had to be Galerius. How he’d managed it, I couldn’t say. Still, it was the only thing that made sense.
“I’ll find out what’s going on.” I’d needed the time spent here to recuperate. Thanks to the dragon, I was now well enough to leave Feirie, something I looked forward to. I needed to find Claryce. It’d pained me to wait this long.
Her Lady seemed to be able to read my desire. She made a flickering motion with her hand to the seneschal. He immediately stepped back and bowed to her. Not for a second did he pay me any more mind.
Crouching, the elf reverted to his raven form. As he fluttered off, I noticed the oaks ringing us also begin to move. The small area in which I’d lain was now a huge clearing.
The queen of Feirie smiled. Even now, her smile offered much. I wasn’t interested, though.
“Thanks for clearing some space,” I remarked. Then, knowing I had little intention of returning anytime soon, I added, “The Gate is not yours to toy with. Keep your—activities—to Feirie, as is demanded.”
For a moment, Her Lady receded into the shadow constantly surrounding her. I knew that reaction. I’d struck a nerve. If I’d been anyone else, she’d have reduced me to ash.
It only took her a breath to recover. Once more her seductive self, Her Lady responded, She would never toy with the Gate. That was his folly. She wants only to rule lovingly over her adoring subjects . . .
I wasn’t surprised that she’d switched back to thoughts for this. “I’ll bet. I don’t know how you managed to open it when you needed to, but you overplayed your hand when you did it to let me through.”
She cocked her head. But she did not do that, no matter how welcome her darling Gatekeeper is in her domain.
“You didn’t open the way?”
Only you as Gatekeeper have that ability.
“Well, I’m not the one letting the Gate act like a sieve. Whatever is going on in Feirie cannot bleed into the other side. Do we understand that?”
But of course. Before I could say anything more, she reached into the darkness near her waist. Without taking her eyes from me, she withdrew a tiny object. A gift before you go.
“I want nothing.”
Her smile widened just a little bit. Not for you, my darling Gatekeeper . . .
She pressed it in my hand, then folded into the surrounding darkness. The moment she was no longer visible, the darkness dissipated, leaving me alone in the clearing.
I took a look at what she’d put into my palm. Instead of the crystal I expected, it was a small, curved object I realized after a moment wasn’t a carving but rather a tooth. A sharp, canine tooth.
“Fetch,” I muttered. “I don’t think you’re going to like this.”
CHAPTER 10
I crossed back in human form, much less of a spectacle than my entrance into Feirie. Gray hints of daylight had just begun to develop around the horizon. Assuming this was the day after and not longer, my time in Feirie had been shorter than I’d thought, but still far longer than I would’ve liked. As soon as I could, I located a telephone and called Claryce’s apartment.
The voice that answered wasn’t hers. It wasn’t even female.
“Yeah?”
“Who is this?”
“You’re Nick?”
“Yes.” There was no point in lying.
“She’s with the boss. She’s safe.”
He hung up. I glared at the telephone. I’d not wanted to get Claryce mixed up with Laertes, but there’d been no choice. I was at least glad she was safe.
I was pretty sure they’d taken the Packard, so I didn’t bother returning to the docks. We’d already found what we were supposed to find, although what I was supposed to use the boat for was still a question. There was clearly something out there, and I wasn’t thinking of whatever had tried to make a meal out of us even when we’d been in dragon form. That in itself was another problem, a big one. I’d already started thinking about all the stories of lost ships. Maybe they hadn’t all been taken by storms and high seas.
I had to leave those questions for the time being as I managed to hail a taxi. When we arrived near enough to my destination, I had the driver pull over. There was, of course, exactly what I needed to pay him, tip included. The pocket was empty again and would be until next I required funds. The magic that bound me to the Gate always provided me with what I needed. If I wanted more, that was up to me.
I had a shadow before I even got half a block. I let my new companion follow a little longer, then paused near a corner. Arms crossed, I leaned against a wall and waited.
My shadow emerged from hiding. I wasn’t surprised to see it was female.
“Winifred Louise Crying Wolf,” I greeted her. “I’d have preferred you stayed with Claryce.”
“Laertes will not harm her,” the girl replied, once more dressed as a flapper. “Besides, she has Fetch with her.” She frowned. “Do not call me that.”
“What would you prefer? Winnie Wolf?”
She clearly didn’t like my slight attempt at humor. “Louise Crying Wolf is fine . . . for now. Like Winifred, Louise was forced on me at the boarding schools, but of the two I prefer it and it serves me in the white man’s world.”
“Otherwise you’d just be Crying Wolf’? Isn’t there a fable with that as its moral?”
Winifred Louise Crying Wolf—now Louise to me—only glared harder. “They’re waiting. Come on.”
“What happened to the goons firing on us?”
“They fled when the roof was hit. They were cowards.”
I didn’t think they were cowards so much as a distraction meant only to keep me where I was until whatever that thing was had attacked. I suspected that if I’d been inside the warehouse at the same moment, they’d have done their best to keep me pinned inside. Gale-rius had apparently known I’d eventually come searching for that place, which made the boat something I needed to research more when I had a chance. Whatever beef I had with Michael, he hadn’t left that clue with Quiet Ford all this time just to give the “Dacian Dragon” a chance to take me out.
She led me into the building, where the strains of the version of “Squeeze Me” with Armstrong and Eva Taylor greeted us. The guard on duty adjusted his grip on the tommy, then nodded to my guide. He hardly treated her like just one of his boss’s pretty dolls.
A hood near the phonograph immediately stopped the music as we entered. That made the others turn to us.
“Nick!” Claryce raced to me, Fetch at her heels. Ignoring the others, she kissed me. “When that thing came out of the sky and smashed the roof, I thought you might be . . . be . . . you know . . . but then we couldn’t find any trace of you and I thought that Galerius might have yo
u!”
“He did. Sort of.” As I walked with her to our host—as usual seated in the shadows—I gave everyone a brief rundown, leaving out only my stint in Feirie and any mention of Her Lady. Since Laertes didn’t seem bothered that the two hoods in the room heard everything, I assumed they knew exactly what he was. I was surprised by Laertes’s trust, but I supposed that he had no choice without Oberon’s protection.
The elf sat straight as he listened. One of the things that most caught his attention was when I mentioned the thing in the lake.
“You know something?” I asked.
“For a moment . . . but no. That would not be possible. This servant of your enemy. It sounds like nothing of Feirie. It lacks . . . distinction.”
I wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but I didn’t care. This side of the portal had its magic, both light and dark. The faceless figure did remind me of something else, but I’d not had a very good chance to focus at the time.
“What about what Galerius threatened to do?” Claryce asked.
I’d forgot to mention that part. “It happened. Six years ago. These images are all dated, even if the one had this thing serving in the warehouse. He was talking about the Wingfoot, Claryce.”
“Oh my God . . . do you think he was working with Joseph?”
“I don’t know. I asked Barnaby to check a couple of things for me. See if he missed anything in Joseph’s papers—”
“This would be Joseph Sperling?” Louise abruptly asked.
Laertes joined the rest of us in looking at her with interest. “Joseph Sperling,” I repeated. “Did you know him?”
“Is this about your search, Crying Wolf?” Laertes asked with the utmost earnestness.
I eyed her with growing suspicion. Other than Barnaby, I trusted no one where Joseph was concerned. “Is that why you were following me to the warehouse? Did you know him?”
She studied all of us, but especially me. “I knew someone that did. He looked for a path, just as I do. He thought that path led through Joseph Sperling.”
I frowned. “What was his name?”
“His white name was David Bowman.”
Black City Dragon Page 11
