“This is your angel, Father William?” I asked. “Have you taken a close look?”
“You did good, Father,” the elf crooned quietly, every word music. “You see how strong the beast’s hold on him is.”
“So tragic.” The priest actually looked sad for me. “So long a burden for so noble a saint. If I had not seen his eyes as he fought the demon, I would have never believed St. George could have been condemned so.”
I grunted. If he’d seen me like that, he’d done so with some elven help or I’d have noticed him.
“He took the burden for all men,” she replied smoothly. “But his suffering is finally to end, in great part thanks to you.”
“Should I begin now?”
A hint of a smile played on her lips. “Yes. Please get the holy water.”
With a dutiful nod, Father William withdrew. The elf watched for a moment, then smiled at me. It wasn’t a comforting sight.
“Now, we may speak honestly,” she said.
“‘Honestly’?” I glanced at her two bodyguards.
She waved off their presence. “Their souls have been mine for some time.”
I didn’t have much sympathy for them, only for Father William. “And how’d you snare the priest?”
The elf laughed. It was a musical sound that nonetheless chilled me. Elves didn’t have senses of humor like humans. When they laughed, it came from the darkness. “Oh, I’ve done nothing much to him! Well, except opened his eyes to who you are and your fate.”
I doubted that was all she’d done. The logic behind Father William’s actions looked to be built on lunacy. He clearly saw the world as she wanted him to, but I didn’t bother to argue. Maybe she thought she’d been gentle on him. Maybe. “And what did you tell him about me?”
“Why, merely your story, Gatekeeper! How you did the noble thing, fought the beast, thought you served your liege and your god . . . and then were betrayed by both of them! Executed by one and cursed by the other. Father William is a devout man who saw St. George as his patron ever since he chose to follow the path. How could he not want to save you from an unjust fate?”
“And none of this was accompanied by Court magic.”
She laughed briefly again. “Enough of that. Before the priest returns, I need you to understand that I do only what I must do. I mean you no harm. I promise.”
“Yeah, the flesh-searing black silver is like velvet against the skin.”
“The black silver is for him.” She didn’t specify who “him” was, but naturally she meant the dragon.
I conceded that point, although I still didn’t buy anything else she said. “You’re not the first elf to try to destroy us. Oberon himself found out just how hard that could be.”
“I have never served Oberon in that regard, if that is what you think. No, I have been in the mortal realm for much longer.”
As far as I could tell, she wasn’t lying just then. “How much longer?”
“Sixteen hundred years by your reckoning.”
I couldn’t help arching a brow at that. “That would mean pretty near—”
“Yes. In the brief period between when you slew the dragon and when your own death made you the Gate’s new keeper, the way opened and closed at random. During one of those unstable openings, I crossed over. It was painful with the Gate in such flux, but I did. I had to.”
Sixteen hundred years in the mortal realm. That couldn’t have been an easy survival at times. Iron would take its toll. I wondered how she’d succeeded so well. More important, I wondered what had driven her to cross in the first place. Then, I thought I had it. “You’re after the Clothos Deck.”
“I have no desire to wreak havoc on reality. Those cards can stay hidden wherever they are. Let others be twisted by their lust for them. No, St. George, I am here hiding from Her Lady.”
“And how did you get on her bad side? Sleep with Oberon before they had their civil war?”
She grimaced. “No. I dared to be his daughter.”
I forgot all the pain the black silver was causing me. It had never occurred to me that Oberon and Her Lady had had any children. “You chose to follow him over your mother. She can be unforgiving, but—”
“I am not her child. My mother sat beside my father before she did.”
That silenced me. I’d always assumed Oberon and Her Lady an eternal pairing until he’d been overthrown. “Your mother died?”
“Yes, a potion made with liquid black silver will tend to kill even the strongest elf.”
Of course. Typical of the Feirie Court. I didn’t ask the logical follow-up question. The potion had been made for the benefit of Her Lady’s future. She might have hated Oberon, but she loved the throne. “So you fled here? What about Oberon? Your father?”
She cocked her head as if surprised I’d brought him up. “Power often binds more than blood does among my kind, St. George, even as it often does among humans. If I could not defend myself against her, I was not worthy of him.”
“Yeah, that sounds like Oberon.”
As we’d talked, I’d been carefully testing the bonds. I thought the wire burning into my left wrist seemed a little looser. If I could buy a bit more time . . .
Unfortunately, at that moment the priest returned. In one hand he held his candle, in the other a small clay cup.
“I’m sorry to take so long,” he commented, his apology aimed at me of all present.
“She’s not an angel, Father. Pretty much the opposite.”
“Hush, beast,” Father William responded with a frown, my warning completely lost on him. “Shall I give it to him yet?” I still couldn’t see what role he had to play at this point. He’d done his part to bring me here, so what else could he do for the elf? The holy water, assuming that was what it was, couldn’t have any effect on me.
“Not yet, remember? One more thing.”
“Oh, of course.” Setting down his candle on an old table nearby, Father William extended his hand to the elf.
From the sleeve of her coat she pulled a long needle with a tiny white crystal at the head. She jabbed him expertly in the wrist. Father William flinched, but otherwise seemed unaffected.
She brought the bloody tip to the cup and dipped the point in the holy water. She then brought the needle to my throat. I tried, but couldn’t keep away from the point. It nicked my vein just enough to draw blood. The elf let the drops spill into the holy water.
Now I understood what the elf hoped to do. She’d had to wait until the very last moment in order to keep the vitality of the blood strongest. “So that’s how you’ve survived sixteen hundred years in such an iron-rich world. You’ve been working to make yourself as immune to it as possible by mixing human blood with your own. That explains your two friends here, also. Still, I’ve got to imagine it’s been painful.”
She stirred the water slightly, then removed the needle. Father William did not hear her bitter voice echoing in my head as she continued our conversation. Sixteen hundred years strengthening myself, keeping myself going. Waiting. Forced to live among cattle, to feed from them. I could do nothing while that whore sat next to my father. I had no support among the Court. . . not until he perished. Until the Night the Dragon Breathed. Only then did those who feared her turn to me through messages sent through the Gate. The fool you destroyed in the church, it originally came as a messenger and, with no other future after, served me as I saw fit. I ordered it to wait for you, to take the sword from you, well aware it would fail . . . oh, and think not to warn the priest about what I am telling you. I assume you realize that his life now depends on your cooperation.
I thought you meant no harm, I countered.
Which does not mean I will not resort to it. I will have the sword. I am the only one who can truly turn it against her.
I nodded. But as an elf, you couldn’t touch the sword. Only Her Lady and those she allowed to do so could. But you think you’ve gotten around that now, too.
Her silver eyes glittered d
angerously. It took me the fifty years after you destroyed my father to bring all this about. Not so much time as measured in the Court, but much too much after already enduring all these centuries here. There is only one more thing . . .
“We are ready, Father,” she said out loud. “Time to exorcise the beast.”
Father William jolted as if he had dozed off. “Hmm? Yes. Time.”
I had no idea what she had planned for this moment. Feirie magic was not as strong in this world. She would’ve needed a direct link to the other realm to cast most major—
Sometimes. . . sometimes you are exceedingly slow, the dragon murmured.
You knew already? You could’ve said something!
To what point? I am merely a thought in your head. So inconsequential. You control us . . . remember?
Oberon’s daughter held the cup so that the priest could sip from it, then drank the rest herself. As she finished, she reached out her free hand to Father William. The priest in turn touched my shoulder and began muttering in Latin. I immediately realized from what he was saying that he was performing an actual exorcism. What he didn’t realize was that his muttering was just to keep him busy until she needed him to take the next, crucial step.
The elf handed the cup to one of her servants, then said, “Now, Father. We need it now.”
He took his other hand, reached into my jacket . . . and somehow, despite the magic hiding it, gripped the hilt of Her Lady’s gift. As I watched, helpless, he drew the sword out of its otherworldly hiding place the way a stage magician pulls a rabbit out of a hat. Father William marveled at what he held. The elf couldn’t suppress her pleasure, either. She’d done the impossible just to obtain Her Lady’s gift.
It was our blood. The dragon’s and mine. Mixed since his had spilled into my open wounds in that battle. Neither of us had known at the time that we would forever be bound to one another.
Blood relationships might not be of much value among the Feirie, but blood itself is a valuable commodity. A single drop of an elf’s blood can bind them to an enemy forever.
I’d had both elves and humans steal our blood in the past, but always for some grand spell or other. Oberon’s daughter appeared only to want it so that she could wield Her Lady’s gift . . . perhaps the grandest spell of all considering what she planned to do with it.
I had bones to pick with Her Lady, but considering the alternatives offered by Oberon’s followers, I preferred to keep Feirie as stable as it was right now. If Her Lady fell, I knew that the chaos afterward would engulf not just her realm, but the mortal world as well.
I grunted as the black silver strands continued to relentlessly burn into my flesh to the point where now I could even smell as well as feel it. I couldn’t break them. The drug she’d had Father William sting me with wreaked havoc on my concentration where the dragon was concerned. The elf had wanted to prevent me from summoning the dragon fully. If I tried now, the black silver would cut through my expanding limbs until it severed them.
“At last,” she whispered. “I will return to Feirie. I will reclaim Feirie.”
A clatter arose from a room above us. The elf looked annoyed, but not concerned. One of her guards turned to face the door, his hand near his gun.
“Tell me what you feel, Father,” she asked.
“I feel . . . I feel him . . . and the beast within. I feel as if I’m seeing through his eyes, as if I’m him.”
“Yes . . . I feel the same. It works then.”
“I feel . . . the dragon . . .” Father William added, eyes wide with confusion.
“Yes, the exorcism is nearly complete. Now, hold the sword over him.”
“I feel . . .” Father William finally shook his head as if to clear it, then obeyed her instructions. As he did, his eyes met mine. I wished I could let him see the truth, let him—
What a fool I can be sometimes.
Eye will not argue with that . . .
I let his jibe pass and demanded he let me see the world as he saw it. I let my urgency flood over him, so that he knew this was important for both of us, not just me. Oberon’s daughter could never let us live, despite her cooing words. I could still wield the sword, which meant I could still retrieve it from her.
Let me see! I demanded. And let him see the truth as well!
The dragon gave me his eyes . . . and I snared Father William’s gaze before he could look away.
“Know the truth, Father,” I whispered.
“Father—” she shrieked.
See your angel with these eyes, Father . . . and see the beast you wish to slay.
Father William looked from me to her and back again. He gaped as he not only saw the world as the dragon did, but knew now everything about us.
He let the tip of the sword drop. His handling was awkward and weak, but Her Lady’s gift didn’t need his strength, only its incredibly sharp edge.
The blade split the black silver strand at my left wrist.
The hood still facing me went for his gun. The elf moved quicker, taking the needle and thrusting it into Father William’s chest.
“St. George—” he managed before lowering the weapon and collapsing.
I paid no mind to Her Lady’s gift, instead letting my fingers burn as I tore at the strand holding my other hand. Inside, the dragon seethed. Use me! Eye can help!
I let him have his way. My hand changed as it had in the Whiting. His strength became mine. We shared the agony the black silver inflicted on us.
I tore the other hand free.
Behind me, I heard the scraping of metal on the wood floor.
Glancing over my shoulder, I saw Oberon’s daughter pick up the sword. Only then did I realize I’d stopped Father William too late. Through the spell’s blood ties, she could now at last touch Her Lady’s gift.
The door crashed open. The goon facing it drew his automatic and fired.
A familiar canine shape slammed into him and sent him and his companion to the floor. Fetch clamped his fearsome jaws on the shooter’s throat and ripped it open with a spray of blood and flesh.
“Mer’ithran!” the elf snapped at Fetch. I had no idea what it meant, but there was a tone of familiarity, as if she knew him. It was possible, he having once served the Court.
I had one leg free by now, the dragon’s natural swiftness making me faster than even an elf. Unfortunately, that still wasn’t fast enough to get me clear of her.
“You should be pleased. I will put her head on a pike!” she declared as she brought the point up to my chest. “You know she cannot be trusted.”
“And you can be?”
In answer, she lunged.
“Master Nicholas!” Fetch roared as he disemboweled the second hood with claws now half a foot long. “‘Ware!”
I tried to twist aside. I tried to deflect the blade. I tried what I could, but Oberon’s daughter clearly knew how to wield a sword.
She ran me through.
I’ll admit it. I waited in horror for what the sword would do. I’d certainly witnessed its power enough on others. A wave of fear from the dragon also engulfed me as our heart pounded wildly in expectation of our horrible destruction. It’d finally happened. We’d die together.
But we didn’t. I had a sword through me and all I felt was an uncomfortable warmth at the wound.
She screamed as the hilt flared. When she pulled her hand free, the palm was burnt black.
Fetch leapt at her, but despite her injury, she moved as quickly as a striking cobra. She raised her other palm toward him. He stopped in midair as if having collided with an invisible wall and crumpled to the floor.
The effort of casting the spell caused her to stumble back. I grabbed the hilt and managed to pull Her Lady’s gift from my chest. It pulsated as I’d never felt it and of its own volition whirled its blade at Oberon’s daughter.
“It knows you,” I muttered. “It wants you. It’s always waited for you . . .”
“Of course! It’s her, you fool! It’s a part
of her!” Despite her bravado, her ruined hand trembled and she backed toward the door.
I couldn’t let her go. With my other leg free, I jumped up and threatened her with the point.
“I would have let you live,” she rasped. “You know she’s dangerous. We would have been allies . . . more.”
It was possible that in the beginning she’d actually meant to leave me alive, but she’d already proven that’d not been of tremendous concern to her. I touched my chest, where the dragon was already working hard to heal our wound.
“I didn’t ask to become the Gatekeeper. Neither did he,” I added, tapping my head to indicate the dragon. “But we weren’t given the choice . . . and we can’t let Feirie in. Neither world could survive that.”
She thrust into her coat and pulled out a tiny stick that immediately grew into a long, barbed pole. I’d seen such weapons among the elves before and knew it stored spells.
She was fast. I was faster. The sword was fastest of all three. It all but dragged my hand after as it cut the pole in half and thrust itself into her throat.
She managed a wheezing gasp. Despite the monstrous wound, she didn’t look ready to die.
Her Lady’s gift had other plans. It glowed as it had for the Wyld in the church. The elf’s eyes widened in fear as she tried to grab the blade and pull it out.
There was an awful screeching sound. Her head twisted as if some giant hand had taken hold of it and tried to tear it off. Her hands flailed. She moaned.
And then, the sword ate her. Just like the creature she’d set loose in St. Patrick’s, Oberon’s daughter melted. The sword eagerly drank in her liquefying form. She tried to scream, but only a rasping sound escaped her as she dwindled.
Just like that, she was gone. The sword’s glow faded. I’d been in situations involving Feirie too often to stand there and stare. I returned Her Lady’s gift to its hiding place, then went to Father William.
He should’ve been dead. The needle had pierced his heart. He should’ve been dead . . . but instead he looked to be slowly healing.
Swearing, I stepped back. There could be only one damned explanation for this “miracle.” Oberon’s daughter had magically combined elven, human, and dragon blood. What else she’d done in the process, I didn’t know, but the dragon blood was instinctively seeking to repair everything.
Black City Dragon Page 36
