Kablooie grinned at me, licking his yellowed teeth, no doubt anticipating my punishment – what he would do to me for embarrassing his king.
I let out a breath. “I guess you’re right. Killing a King… I hadn’t really thought about it like that. That’s a big deal. The repercussions would be… climactic.” He grunted in response, but didn’t move. I pressed the blade into his throat another half inch, relishing his gasp of astonishment. “I guess I’ve just been so busy thinking about killing a god that I didn’t even bother to think how very important a mere king is. Ah, well. I guess I’m about to find out.”
And I very slowly slid the knife into the Fairy King’s throat, staring Kablooie in the eyes the entire time. The body dropped before me, gurgling as he choked on his own blood. Then he transformed into a goblin. I paid him no attention, staring Kablooie down.
He stared back at me, stunned.
His shoulders tensed as if finally remembering that he should be running, but a furred figure fell from the tree above, landing directly on top of him, clawing at his face on the way down. Talon stood, yanked Kablooie up to his knees, kicking the back of the goblin’s legs as he tried to stand to his full height – because that would have put him head and shoulders above Talon.
And shorter people just hated that.
Kablooie stood motionless, facing me. Then, Talon very carefully extended his claws, revealing inches long claws, and sunk the tips into the flesh surrounding Kablooie’s jugular.
If the goblin so much as accidentally passed gas, Talon would sink his namesakes the rest of the way into the flesh, and jerk his hands back, ripping Kablooie’s throat out entirely.
“Hey, kitty. Don’t you find it weird that even though we just killed Obie that none of his minions came over to squash us?”
Talon yawned loudly, shrugging. “I guess it is kind of interesting.”
I nodded, walking towards my friends. “What do you guys think?”
Ashley nodded. “Smells fishy. Like there’s a super-secret we’re not supposed to know…”
I nodded, snapping my fingers. “That’s it.” I turned back to Kablooie. “What do you think, Oberon? Because I think we’re right. But if you don’t want to talk, I’m sure the Devourer will oblige you. He so loves making people do things they don’t want to do. A specialty. Well, that and Devouring.” Kaba glared at me, the depths of his hatred almost enough to make me gulp. But Wylde was in charge. At least his savageness was, but it was obvious he was drawing on my snark just as much as I was drawing from his primitive side. It was a unique sensation – basically, watching myself be a smartass.
“I wouldn’t mind torturing a few of his lackeys, just to be sure,” Carl offered politely. The trolls growled, and the goblins snarled, but none of them moved.
“Hey, you!” I said, pointing at one of the two big guys. “You’re a hairy son of a bitch. What the hell are you, anyway?”
The creature blinked, not used to being directly addressed other than to be told things like smash this, rape that, burn that other thing, and good boy!
His eyes flashed to Kaba, and I grinned victoriously. “Troll,” he finally grumbled.
I nodded. “Thanks. That was really bothering me for some reason, you know?” He blinked at me, and then shrugged uncertainly. “Now, on your knees. Or Kaba becomes a Kabab,” I said.
The troll dropped to his knees in a heartbeat, angry, but desperate. I motioned to Tory. She dipped her head at me on the way by, and waded right into the horde of monsters until she was directly in front of him. “Which one of you tried to attack me? You bastards all look the same.”
The troll grinned, glancing at the Huntress who was just now seeming to gather her wits. She turned from face to face, frowning at the situation, trying to get a read on what she needed to do to help. She looked very concerned when she saw Tory surrounded by the Wild Hunt.
Tory nodded. Then turned to the other troll. “Rip his arm off.”
The other troll stared at her in disbelief. “Brood no rip arm without—”
He cut off abruptly as Tory kicked him in the face, sending him rolling into the goblins behind him. Then Tory casually grasped troll one’s arm, and ripped it from the socket with a sharp motion. He collapsed, squealing and bleeding all over his compatriots. Tory carried the arm with her, hefting it over a shoulder. She reached the Huntress, stared at her for a moment, and then tossed the arm at the woman’s feet, a gesture of love as primal as any I had ever seen. A Thank You. A Payment.
An act of love.
The two women suddenly disappeared, and I froze.
Kablooie began to laugh, sounding much different than he had up until now. I turned back to watch him shift into Oberon, still kneeling, and his clothing torn. Even having already guessed this truth, seeing two of my friends abruptly disappear shook me to the core.
Talon’s claws suddenly sunk deeper into Oberon’s neck, a warning.
What the hell had just happened?
Chapter 39
I approached Oberon, satisfied to see him wearing rags, kneeling before me.
“We should probably talk,” he said, smiling at me, not even a twinge of concern on his face.
“You should probably be a lot more nervous right now,” I said.
Just then, Talon unsheathed his claws, took a step back, bowed his head at Oberon, and then walked past me without a blink. My friends suddenly had their weapons out, pointed directly at Talon. He slowly lifted his arms, placed them on his head, and then sat down on the ground before them in surrender. Barbie was sure to place herself between Talon and Alex, leaving Ashley and Carl to split their attention between the goblins and Talon.
Everyone turned to look at me as if I had the answer to that. But I was engrossed by a sudden revelation as I stared at the submissive Talon. Since we had gone to visit the palace, I couldn’t recall ever seeing him with his spear. Ever since our path sent us directly at the Royals…
But I could only process one confusing thing at a time, so I just shrugged at my friends, motioning for them to keep an eye on him.
The horde of goblins quickly dispatched the still screaming troll, and then began to laugh, finally looking back up at my friends. I turned back to Oberon, feeling very cold, and very violent. No more jokes inside of me.
Two of my friends had disappeared, but I didn’t know if they had been taken from me, or had found a way back home. Right now, they could be somewhere worse than here, surrounded by very angry Fae nightmares, who wanted revenge for embarrassing their king.
I reached out to Wylde, digging deep. Because I knew this was something I couldn’t comprehend.
Talon had released Oberon, fucking bowed, and then walked away only to surrender to my friends. What the hell was that about? If he had turned on me, drawn his spear, and then challenged me to a duel, it would have made more sense. But to betray, and then surrender?
This was a Fae thing, and only a Fae could understand it.
Oberon watched me, nodding slowly as if reading my thoughts.
My voice sounded distant as Wylde spoke through me. “All’s fair in war—”
“And love,” Oberon finished softly.
“Wylde has no time for such things,” I said coldly. “Love is weakness.” And I felt a part of me agreeing with that, even though I knew I was just bitter. Because of Indie. Love had been my weakness. And it had broken me. But… love had also healed Barbie a few minutes ago.
“Love conquers all,” Oberon said.
“Or swallows you whole,” I snapped, thinking of Indie.
He held out his hands, acknowledging my unspoken example. “Love conquers all.”
I squinted my eyebrows at him, not wanting to understand, but knowing he was right. True love was strong enough to conquer anything, but it was also strong enough to overwhelm you, eating you alive if given away to the wrong person. Someone not up to your standards.
Then I remembered what he had said when we first met. About only love being able to
conquer savagery. And about my friends needing to find a driver to get back home.
Had… Tory and the Huntress tasted enough love to be sent home? Was it that simple? The powerful emotion overcoming their primitive, savage sides? Had Oberon given us the answer in the very beginning of our trial? And was he reminding me of those hints, even now?
If I was right, then he had likely given us answers for the rest of us to get home. I just needed to figure them out. Fast. Before he decided to stop being so helpful.
Oberon climbed to his feet, stretching. He settled a thoughtful gaze on me, as if reading my life story. “This was an Invitation. A challenge. You passed. Barely.”
I frowned. “Because I got the kid?”
Oberon shrugged. “Sure.”
I waited for more, but nothing came. “Okay, then let us go. And tell me how to kill a god. My promised reward.”
“You haven’t earned a reward. You passed. Barely,” he repeated.
I began to growl. “I got the shoes and saved my friend. And I have the kid.”
Oberon watched me. “Perhaps,” he said casually.
I glanced back to see Barbie still guarding Alex, and let out a hidden sigh of relief. I met Alex’s eyes, and gave him a nod. I had hoped it to be reassuring, but he still looked as terrified as before. I turned back to Oberon. “The Huntress was taken to motivate me. But I almost didn’t run into her. I could have very easily missed her.”
Oberon shook his head. “No. She was very specifically guided to you. By my Hunters.” He looked past my shoulder and I tensed, fearing an assassin immediately behind me, or that someone had nabbed Alex. But no one was there, Alex was fine, and Talon was still on his knees. Then I saw it. A large army of goblins slowly standing from the tall grass around us, totally fresh, not a wound on them.
And they were everywhere. Hundreds of them.
I didn’t let fear show on my face, but inside I was screaming. Wylde yanked back control, only leaving me the ability to observe. I struggled, fought, and shouted at him, all in my mind, but it was no use.
And as I realized the futility of it, I conceded. He was right. I needed him. Entirely.
I didn’t think the same as these monsters. I needed to become them to beat them. My way had gotten us handily outmaneuvered. I had almost killed us by Shadow Walking, and my trusted cat had betrayed me.
So, I stopped struggling. And… a wave of contentment rolled down my shoulders.
The man that turned back to Oberon was not the same as the one he had been talking to so far. Sure, he was similar. But before, where the king had seen flashes of a different, darker version of me, now he got the full storm. A calm, solid, force of nature, staring down the Fae King with calculating, methodical, hungry eyes.
The burning eyes of a predator. Or a Manling turned Fae.
Which was deadlier – a Manling who had lived a brief life on the Wild Side, and had chosen it over all other options available to him.
Oberon’s face changed, suddenly cautious, but also… satisfied? “Where are my women?” I snarled, wanting to hear proof of my guess, that they were safe, that love had saved them.
“Love conquers all, Wylde,” he repeated in a respectful tone. It would have to be enough.
“We are leaving this place. You will not stop us. Or I will return to bathe in your blood.”
Oberon’s jaw clenched by reflex at the threat, but he nodded agreement. Not from a position of weakness, but as if the statement only made perfect sense. It would be ignorant to disagree. Uncivilized. “I agree not to retaliate. My request has been fulfilled. The Invitation is withdrawn.”
I grew very still, sensing Wylde’s sudden apprehension.
Oberon slowly smiled. “That’s correct. The Invitation is complete. The challenge over. Now, how, exactly, did you propose to leave? To make it home?”
“The shoes,” Wylde said uncertainly. “Home.” But that was all he had. No explanations.
It was the equivalent of Oberon asking him to explain how a tornado formed.
And Wylde had answered with, “Science,” while waggling his fingers mystically.
I focused on the problem, recalling the montage Wylde had shown me when I asked about the heels. I had thought he was showing me visions of safety, protection, love. Which were all facets of what he had been trying to say.
The shoes were Home. Safety, protection, and love were all parts of a home.
But Wylde was floundering, knowing the answer, but not how to use it. And I had a sudden realization. Wylde needed me as much as I needed him. Wylde’s life was one of seeing, wanting, taking, and doing – whether it was women or magic. If he wanted a result, he just made it happen, like breathing. It was the way this world worked.
Wylde was limited in this regard. And he knew Oberon, not Pan – who was just another facet of the same being. Most Fae knew only to fear the Manlings. Whereas the Royals – the Queens and Oberon – knew that Manlings held something they wanted. Something they needed.
Belief. Which powered their entire world. My mind flew with the possibilities.
The Fae needed humans to believe in them, so they stole our children, replacing them with their own Changelings. That Fae Changeling would influence humans in our world, increasing our belief in the old stories. But I knew power flowed both ways. A balance. So that Manling child stuck in the Land of the Fae? I would bet a few nickels that he also influenced the Fae, poisoning them with his evil Manling ways. And that was where the Fae picked up their Manling stories. Just like we picked up their stories from Changelings, perhaps.
Which might just be a weakness. The Fae were addicts, infatuated with us. They needed us.
And I had a sudden idea. Why would heels be so important? Out of all the things that could have been used as a key to home…
Then it hit me. I clawed myself out of the depths, begging Wylde to listen. He was so shaken that he accidentally let me. I grasped a sliver of control back from him, rounded on my friends, and pointed at Carl and Ashley. “There’s no place like home! Click those fucking heels!”
Ashley gasped, and instantly darted to her horse, scrabbling underneath its bulk to try and reach the shoes still attached to the bridle.
The goblins began to advance, agitated that something was happening with their prey.
But Talon and Barbie abruptly dove into the mix, slicing, screaming, and tearing into the goblins with teeth and blade. And I suddenly saw Talon’s spear again, appearing out of thin air. The two moved like miniature tornados, not trying to kill, but simply to maim as many enemies as possible. Wasting their time to kill when so many surrounded them would be instant death. Blue blood flew in the air amidst a cacophony of screams and gurgles.
Carl retrieved the blue pair of shoes, the sun causing the frost to glitter. A goblin carcass slammed into the tree before him, and he jumped, snapping back to attention. He dove to help shift the horse for Ashley. She finally yanked out the pair of flaming red high heels.
But before she could do anything, Carl snatched them from her hands, shoving the blue ones at her. She took them with a bewildered expression. Carl smiled down at the red heels adoringly.
Then they dropped to their asses, strapping on the pumps as fast as possible, but the tide of goblins was rolling closer, despite Talon and Barbie’s efforts to hold them back. Carl and Ashley scrambled to their feet, and for some reason, Carl moved much more fluidly in his six-inch heels than Ashley. They grasped hands, clicked their heels together, and shouted at the top of their lungs. “There’s no place like home!”
The goblin horde washed over them with the last word, and I feared the worst. But a few moments later, the goblins climbed off each other, revealing only empty space beneath them. I turned to Oberon, arching a brow, not even trying to hide my smirk.
“Pop Culture,” he admitted, sounding frustrated. “Well met.”
I had been right. Humans infected the Fae, too. But my mind didn’t stop there.
My trip had been a c
hallenge. An Invitation… Then I got it. Much like their Changeling business model, the Fae made an adult version. Invitations. But in that game, they wanted to bring us over, change us, and then return us to our homes. They wanted us to spread the savage, primitive, wildness we picked up here – and tales of Fairy monsters – among our own people.
But the Invitations hadn’t been granted for a long time. It had been granted to those from a different era. Those wizards who lived in a darker period of history – a more brutal period. Adopting the Fae inside them had likely been much simpler for them. Which meant free – or very cheap – energy, to put it in modern terms.
I was willing to bet that a successful Invitation with me would grant them a big old battery to keep their world running. And if the Initiate failed? They got to kill or keep an evil Manling, twisting him into one of their own. Win-win.
And right now, with their most recent Changeling fiasco – they had lost a potential power source. They needed a quick fix, and they needed to save face.
And since they were Fae, they needed to make it better than just saving face. They needed to come out ahead. It was how they worked. So, they had opened up the Invitation lottery again.
Enter the unluckiest schmuck in the world, Nate Temple.
To leave, I needed to accept the Wylde inside of me.
To get their boost of power, the Fae needed me to accept Wylde.
Our interests aligned. This wasn’t a game. It was a big old con, by the best con artists ever.
Even knowing this, I realized I still didn’t have a choice. Realizing the con too late didn’t help me. I could only play ball. The game was rigged. No use crying about it.
Wild Side: A Nate Temple Supernatural Thriller Book 7 (The Temple Chronicles) Page 22
