by Kit Hallows
I crossed the street, ignoring the family in matching rain coats that stood and stared at me as if I’d just descended from a space craft. “Nice day,” I said and as I rushed by the mother grabbed her kids and pulled them in close. Blinkereds, may the gods bless each and every last one of them.
A bolt of lightning split the sky and a deep rumble rattled the city as I neared the next intersection. I hoped it was a good omen as I ran, my coat flying around me.
Arthur Street was at the end of the block. I’d made it; I turned down a narrow lane lined with apartment buildings and spotted the alleyway that ran halfway between them. The murkiness of the storm and the looming shadows amid the towering concrete walls were so dark and heavy it almost seemed like night had fallen.
I slowed as I reached the alley. It was still, the far end shuttered off by a high gated metal fence. I glanced round, checking each of the parked cars as I looked for my contact, but they were all empty.
A crack of thunder boomed above me as I reached the dead end, my heart racing from the run. Then I drew my pistol as a heavy, ominous feeling stole over me.
A feeling that told me, without a scrap of uncertainty that someone had just cut off the escape route behind me.
And they were closing in fast.
18
“Stop where you are. Don’t move.” It was the same voice I’d heard on the phone. Female, husky, with a trace of an accent that wasn’t quite British, but wasn’t a million miles from it.
I glanced down at the pooling water around my feet as a bolt of lightning flashed across the sky and caught the reflection of bright lilac eyes and long hair. Then her black leather boot shattered the surface of the puddle.
“Raise your hands up over your head,” she said, as the echoing rumble boomed over the rooftops.
I did as I was told. If she’d meant me harm, she would have already made her move by now. Then a strange whisper began to fill the alleyway, her words too distorted for me to understand, her voice soft, melodious and calming. But it still troubled me. I bristled as she placed her gloved hand on the side of my face. She was reading me, or trying to. My defenses blocked her more invasive intrusions, but she must have uncovered whatever she was looking for because she stepped away and said, “You can turn around now.”
I did as she asked and found myself face to face with a tall, willowy fae. The first thing that struck me was her long strawberry blonde hair and how it pooled in the folds of the collar on her elegant, forest-green coat. Her face was pretty, long and slender and her gaze was cold and even. A large silver hoop glimmered in one of her sharply pointed ears and the other was studded with three emerald stones. “Are you…”
“I’m Abigayle Underwood, Erland’s sister.”
“I never knew he had a sister.”
“You’d expect him to confide something like that to the likes of you?”
I ignored the barbed remark. “Where is he?”
“Recovering.” Her eyes turned a shade colder.
“From what?”
“An attack by vicious cowards. Common assassins.”
“Is he okay?”
“We anticipate he will be.” Abigayle reached beneath her cloak, pulled out a weathered map and handed it to me.
I expected it would detail some strange, mythical land, but it was just an old map of the city and its surroundings. “What’s this for?” I asked as she handed me a slip of paper.
“Memorize this.”
I unfolded it and read the hand-written coordinates, then the paper burst into flames. I dropped it. “Nice,” I said, blowing on the tips of my fingers as it fell and hissed in the puddle.
“That’s how you’ll find the place Erland uses to cross over. For some reason he’s decided to trust you with its location.”
“Cross over?”
“Have you never been to our lands?” Abigayle asked.
“Faerie?”
“Yes, Faerie. What other lands could I possibly be referring to?”
And I’d thought Erland was direct. I shook my head. “No, I haven’t.”
“I understood that when you shook your head. Well, this is your chance to travel to our fair realm. Go there, speak to my brother and help him unravel whatever tedious mess he’s gotten himself involved with now.”
“Listen, I don’t mean to be callous but I’m already up to my neck in trouble. If Erland’s safe then he probably doesn’t need me.”
“He does need you, which is why I’ve gone to the trouble of coming here.”
“Why can’t you help him?” I asked, ignoring her bristling glare. The initial surprise of meeting her had worn off, and I was getting tired of her snark. “He’s your brother after all.”
“I have far more pressing issues to deal with right now. Erland understands this, which is why he’s sent for you. He has an urgent task he cannot contend with on his own, one that will help you with the shade.”
“Stroud?”
“Are you currently entangled with more than one shade?” Abigayle asked, arching her eyebrows.
“No.”
She gave a thin smile. “Then I believe you know the answer to your question, Mr. Rook.” Slowly, her face softened. “I apologize.”
“For what?”
“My impatience. My brother’s injuries were bad. Are bad. I told him long ago to stay away from this damnable place.” She wrinkled her nose. “If not for the stench alone, but he didn’t listen. He has a peculiar sentimentality, which is why he’s given his best to this world of yours. And in return he’s received a cursed knife to the gut, for his troubles.” Abigayle reached into her pocket and brought out a small round apple. It glowed, one side ruby-red, the other bottle green. She held it out to me.
“What’s this for?” I asked as the apple’s sweet enticing scent wafted up to my nose and made my mouth water.
“It’s the key that will get you in.” Abigayle said. “You have the coordinates, the map. Stand under the arch of stone, eat the apple and you’ll find yourself on a hill overlooking the village where my brother is waiting.”
“Seems simple enough.” I slipped the apple into my pocket, resigning myself to the fact that her instructions made about as much sense as anything else in my life.
Abigayle gazed at me for a moment as if deciding something. “I came, Mr. Rook, because my brother asked for you. He trusts you, but I am of the opinion that his judgment often leaves much to be desired, so I feel you should be made aware of the fact that we do not throw open the doors to our lands the way we once did. To put it bluntly, your kind are no longer welcomed in Faerie. My advice to you is to remain unseen, as much as possible, while you’re there.”
“Fine.”
“Go alone, do not attempt to bring anyone with you and do not divulge your destination.” Her eyes flitted over mine. “You’re already thinking of your newly forged alliances, I can see it. Don’t. If you cross me I will find out. I may be overwrought with burdensome obligations but vengeance takes precedence where I come from and I will come calling if I need to, and you wouldn’t want that.”
Anger surged through me. I didn’t appreciate her threats, but it didn’t seem like the best idea to point it out. “Fine, I’ll go alone.”
“Good. I wish you and my brother the best. Perhaps we’ll meet again, Mr. Rook. In better days.” She nodded to me and strode back down the alley. As I began to turn a flash of lilac light burst through the gloom. I shielded my eyes in the crook of my arm as a warm breeze wafted over me. It carried the scent of parched heather and the sound of cawing crows. Then it all vanished with the heavy slam of a door.
When I glanced back down the alley it was empty and Abigayle Underwood was gone.
19
The air sizzled as a bolt of lightning lashed the sky. I pulled out my flashlight to examine the map. The numbers I’d been given were latitude and longitude. I ran my finger down the lines to the point where they intersected; a forested grove in the middle of a state park. The place wa
s at least an hour away.
Silver light flashed over the walls and puddles and another boom roared out. I stashed the map in my coat and hoped the cab driver had followed my instructions. A trip out of town was the very last thing I needed right now, but I had to go. I grabbed my phone and dialed the burner I’d given Astrid.
“Morgan,” she said.
“Hi.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah. But I’m going to need to make a quick detour. It shouldn’t take long.”
“Where?” Astrid asked. There was concern in her voice. We’d grown close over these last few days, even though neither of us had acknowledged it, not with everything else we’d been facing. But it was still there. A potential glint of light after the relentless darkness of the last few years. “I can’t tell you, I’m sorry. But it might lead to a solution to Stroud.”
“Are you coming home before you go?” A cat purred loudly besides Astrid’s phone. It sounded like Storm, which was apt.
“No, I need to go straight there. Can you and Samuel hold the fort while I’m gone?”
“Of course. Samuel was accosted by Mrs. Fitz just after you left, now he’s downstairs helping her hang drapes. I can hear them laughing through the floorboards. It’s…eerie.”
I smiled. “Well once he's finished that deadly assignment, please try to tear him from her clutches and get over to the magical quarter? See if there’s been any sightings of Endersley.”
“Of course.”
“Great. I…I’ll see you soon.”
“Take care.” She hesitated, and I waited to see if she was going to say something more, then the line went dead.
The cab was parked near the end of the street and the driver still possessed a vacuous look as he gazed at me through the rain. His eyes narrowed as I opened the rear passenger door, which meant his trance was weakening. “Hi, thanks for waiting,” I said as I slammed the door against the rain and slipped a crystal out of my bag.
I reached into my wallet, got fifty bucks out and cast a quick spell. He took it without looking and I watched in the mirror as his eyes glazed over. “Where to?” he asked.
“I need to get to the state park.” I checked the map again and gave him directions.
He started the car, made a u-turn and we set off, his awareness keen enough to drive safely, while his reasoning and memory remained soft and pliable enough for me to influence.
I sat back in the seat. My coat and shirt were soaked and I was glad to be out of the storm but I kept a watchful eye on things. I checked the mirrors as we drove through the heart of the city to see if anyone was tailing us. The cars on the highway were little more than dark blurs. One, a battered old Lincoln, seemed suspicious for a while but eventually it veered toward the off ramp. Slowly, the rattle and spatter of the rain, along with the warmth and obscured steamy windows, lulled me into a much needed sleep.
When I woke, everything was still and quiet. The driver had parked in the lot outside the forestry service's visitor center and surrounding us were straight towering trees that jutted up like a wall of giant green arrows. It was getting dark, the downpour had stopped and the sky was filled with ragged clouds and a scattering of shiny white stars.
I was about to climb out of the car when the driver woke from his stupor. “What the fuck am I doing here?” he asked.
“A good deed,” I replied, though I was fairly sure his question was rhetorical.
“Get out of my cab!”
“My pleasure.” I opened the door, then paused. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to wait ’til I get back?” I jumped out as the car roared to life, filling the cool air with a cloud of exhaust, then the wheels squealed angrily and he sped away.
As I watched him go, I noticed one of the cars on the far side of the lot, and caught sight of a large, round figure behind a misted window. They seemed to glance my way before driving off.
I chalked it up to paranoia and took out the crumpled map Abigayle had given me. It looked like I had a five or six mile hike and it was getting close to pitch darkness. “Great.” I grabbed a flashlight from my bag, took a deep breath of the pine scented air, and headed down a well worn trail as I punched Erland’s coordinates into the GPS app on my phone.
The forest wasn’t as still and serene as it had seemed from the cab. Animals scurried and trampled through the brush. In the darkness they sounded as big as cougars even though were probably nothing more than the odd rabbit or covey of quail. Owls screeched, coyotes yipped and screamed, and frogs joined in the chorus. I pushed on, planting each step firmly on the rough stony path.
I stopped at a crossroads marked by a mossy wooden signpost, checked my GPS and groaned when it pointed me toward a steep incline. Clumps of tall arching ferns brushed my coat as I climbed and the beam of my flashlight cast eerie shadows on the branches above. I had to wonder how Erland dressed when he came to this place and grinned as I pictured him in bespoke galoshes and a designer pith helmet. But my amusement faded as a branch creaked and snapped behind me.
I whirled around, the flashlight illuminating thick tree trunks, heavy brush, and a pair of gleaming eyes. A buck. It stared my way before skittering across the path into the undergrowth.
A strange, heaviness passed through the air, and I knew that that careless, clumsy sound hadn’t been made by the deer. Someone was here, someone had followed me. I pulled the glasses from my bag and swept their charged crystals over the woods, looking for the telltale glow of a heart.
Nothing.
But that lack of evidence was not conclusive. My pursuer, and I was certain I had one, could have cloaked themselves. I switched the flashlight off and waited, my ears primed for the sound of any movement or breath.
Still nothing. I waited, focused a moment longer and held my breath for as long as I could, before finally releasing it. I turned the flashlight back on and swept it around in a thin white arc of light.
Doubt was beginning to creep through me like a thief, robbing me of my certainty. If anyone had been following me, they’d gone. Either that or they’d transformed themselves, which couldn’t entirely be ruled out.
I continued up the trail, my ears straining for any hint of pursuit, but there was none. Soon, a distant churning roar began to rise up over the cries and nighttime calls of the forest's creatures. It was the waterfall, a landmark I’d spotted on the map. I was getting close to Erland's crossing. I pushed on toward the top of the hill and came to a stop at its crest.
A stream glimmered nearby in the moonlight, the sound of its churn oddly comforting. I shone the flashlight over the brush beyond the narrow strip of water until I found it; a mossy arch made of stone that wouldn’t have looked out of place in a Pagan British woodland. I leaped across the stream and righted myself as I slipped on a rock and plunged into the icy water. “Goddamn it!” I cursed as I grabbed at the reeds and ferns rustling along the bank and pulled myself out.
My boots squelched with each step as I walked through the dense vegetation and paused under the archway. “Well, here we go,” I said. “Next stop fairyland.” I pulled the apple from my pocket and was about to take a bite when a splash echoed out behind me.
Another wallowing splosh followed, then a gruff yet whiny voice shouted, “Fucking fuckaton!” and a roar burst forth rustling the foliage of the trees around me.
20
I swept my flashlight toward the growl erupting in the brush and caught sight of two glowing, yellow eyes. The wolf-like beast glanced my way and bowed its head, as if nodding to me. Then it took off, charging through the brush toward the hulking silhouette emerging from the stream. I watched the creature as it leaped and struck the figure in the chest, taking them down before I could see who it was.
“Get the hell off me!”
The voice was Osbert’s. They’d sent a fellow agent after me again, and this time it was their most vicious ogre.
He growled and there was a high, keening yelp, then I heard what sounded like a shovel being thru
st into earth over and over. Moments later Osbert rose to his feet, rusty knife in hand, its blade dripping with blood. He was cloaked in his chosen persona, a fat, red-headed teenager with a gold ring gleaming in his upper lip. I’d seen the ogre out of his disguise on prior occasions, and he didn’t look too dissimilar, with his tufts of coppery hair and that round, warty stomach.
“What the hell are you doing here, Osbert?”
“I guess, I’m, um, following you.” He shrugged. “Sorry, Morgan. Orders are orders.”
“What orders?” I pulled my gun and held it below my flashlight. “Who sent you?” I spoke fast in an attempt to wrong foot him.
“Um, orders to kill you.” He shrugged again and gave a weak, half-smile. “I like you, man, you know that but needs must when the devil drives.” As he began to tramp toward me, he let his cloak drop and I was face to face with the ogre. “I don’t want to do this,” he continued, “but sometimes you just gotta-”
The first shot hit him square in the chest. He stopped and clutched a meaty hand to his hide, and his face fell. “You shouldn’t have done that, Morgan. I was going to make it quick, but now you’ve pissed me right off.” He ducked down and charged me.
My second shot clipped him in the shoulder and the next on the side of his throat.
“Yaaaaaaaaaaaa!” he growled as he ran, head low, a juggernaut of heaving flesh.
I aimed at his head but he was coming too fast. My gun roared, and the bullet went wide and exploded into the trunk behind him.
Before I could reload he struck me like a fat, soggy freight train. I was pulverized by the blow, the trees and stars spun round as I lost my flashlight and struggled to keep a grip on my gun.
I was about to fire into his boulder-like skull when the ground dropped from below us, the air turned black and white, and the waterfall roared as we fell alongside it.
