Death Kissed

by Kris Austen Radcliffe

  They were in fact at the bottom of the hole left when that damned sword nuked his garage.

  His son tried to climb up the loose dirt lining the pit.

  “Gabe! Careful!” Ed sat up faster than he should have. What the hell had that fae done to him? “Was that the Queen of the Fae?” he muttered. He’d bounced off her armor and…

  He really had no idea how to describe what it had done to his head. He’d been there, on the beach, listening to Wrenn and Gabe deal with the actual, honest-to-goodness Queen of the Fae and none of it had processed. The closest he’d ever come to a similar experience was a drunken bender in college from which he remembered moments and images, but didn’t really remember, and the lack of memory made him feel a type of naked vulnerability he did not like.

  He’d never gone drinking like that again, and after Isabella’s parents were killed by a drunk driver, he’d stopped drinking even the occasional beer.

  Gabe slid back down to Ed and Sophia.

  “You two okay?” he asked.

  “We were on the beach, now we’re home,” Sophia said.

  Gabe looked around at the pit. “It’s like a Terminator time travel bubble,” he said.

  Ed rubbed his ear. “Don’t give the fae ideas.” Wrenn did say they were teching it up.

  “I’m cold,” Sophia said.

  Gabe immediately wrapped his arm around his sister. “I can get out. If I jump, I can reach the concrete.”

  Ed patted at the dirt. He’d had his coat around his waist before he ran headlong into the Queen of the Fae—there, his coat was bunched up to the side of his hip. “Here, honey,” he said, and handed it over to his daughter.

  Ed fished his phone from his pants pocket. It lit up long enough to tell him its battery was about to die.

  “Ranger made us leave our phones in the van, Papa,” Gabe said.

  Ed fished out Gabe’s phone. “I got them.” He handed it to his son.

  “You found the van?” Gabe took his phone and unlocked the screen.

  Ed handed Sophia hers, which she immediately checked.

  “We landed in the same place you did. At that old mission.” Ed hit the mic button on his radio. At least that battery hadn’t died and he could trust his own people. “Tracy, you there?” Hopefully all the veil-crossings and the Heartway-traveling hadn’t messed up his gear. He glanced around. Bad enough he’d lost his shotgun.

  His radio crackled. “Sheriff?”

  “I have the kids. We’re in… my driveway.” He huddled close to Gabe and Sophia. It really was cold.

  “Copy that,” Melanie said. She had the early morning shift, which meant that they’d been gone at least a few hours. “Sending someone now.”

  She didn’t seem too freaked out.

  “Date and time,” Ed said. The last thing they needed was for the Queen of the Fae to think it would be fun to drop them home twenty years after she plucked them off that beach.

  Melanie rattled off the date and time. He’d been correct; they’d been gone only a few hours. “I’m making calls,” he said. “Out.”

  “Copy that,” Melanie said. “Out.”

  “I called Mr. Bjorn.” Gabe handed over his phone. “The call went to voicemail.”

  Ed tapped Lennart’s number next. Thankfully, he answered.

  “I’m at Frank’s place. We have Ella and Mateo here. They’re safe and asleep,” the sleepy Lennart said. “Bjorn, Magnus, and Benta took a plane. They should be heading to a beach? Correct? That was the last place your phone indicated your location.”

  So three of the elder elves were on their way to get the sword. “The sword should be there still.” As long as Wrenn didn’t take it, or the fae come back for it. Or the vampires.

  A whining electric car pulled up. “Someone’s here.”

  Lennart paused. “It’s—”

  “Mr. Arne!” Sophia shouted. “Mr. Arne, we’re down here!”

  Lennart chuckled. “The King will get you to the hospital.”

  “Hospi—?”

  Lennart hung up.

  Ed looked at the phone, shook his head, and handed it back to Gabe. They must have kept Isabella overnight.

  Footsteps approached.

  Arne Odinsson, in full balding-middle-aged-father glamour, looked over the edge of the pit, though the University of Minnesota hat and its big maroon and gold pompom wasn’t really doing a good job of disguising his ears. He wore his old black parka with its fur-lined hood and had a couple of blankets in his hand.

  “Magnus has the sword,” he said. “They’re on their way back to the airport in Brownsville and will be home by morning.”

  Both of Ed’s kids looked up at the King of the Alfheim Elves as if to say Manners, please.

  Damned elves and their myopic view of life. “We’re cold but okay down here,” Ed said. “Isabella?”

  “Is Momma okay?” Sophia asked.

  “Everything’s fine!” Arne grinned down at the kids. “I have blankets.” He held them out as headlights swept the driveway. “Maura’s here to take you and Gabe to Frank’s place. Akeyla’s up and waiting for you. She said she’s going to make hot cocoa.” He knelt down and whipped his hands around like he was going to zap them with a spell. “I’m going to cushion the edge here because it’s dark and I want to make sure we get you out safely, honey,” he said.

  Sophia nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Arne.”

  “Run up the side as fast as you can,” Arne said.

  Sophia looked up at Ed.

  “Go on, honey. Mr. Arne will catch you.” The elves always caught them.

  Sophia stepped back and shot up the side of the pit farther and faster than she would have been able to without the spell. Arne plucked her from midair and swung her around out of Ed’s sight. “Your mommy’s water broke, so I’m going to take your daddy to the hospital, okay? Take the blanket and go to Maura, sweetie,” he said.

  Sophia jogged away from the pit.

  “Isabella’s water broke?” Ed called.

  Gabe made it to the top of the pit wall pretty much on his own. He disappeared out of view too, presumably on his way to Maura’s sedan.

  “Sif’s with her. We should go.” Arne extended his hand to Ed.

  “We had a run-in with the Queen of the Fae,” Ed called up. “You don’t see any unwelcomed magicks, do you?” He didn’t want to accidentally take nasty fae magicks into Alfheim’s hospital.

  Arne shook his head. “You’re clean,” he said.

  Ed inhaled and ran at the slope. The spell somehow gave the dirt grip, and did blunt the sharpness of the concrete and the rebar. Arne took his hand and hauled him back into the real world.

  Someone had put plastic over the gaping hole in the side of Ed’s house and sealed off the entire area with crime scene tape.

  Both his kids were at the end of the driveway, being checked over by Arne’s daughter, Maura.

  Arne turned his back to Maura and the kids. “I asked Titania to bring you home.”

  Ed gaped at the elf. “Excuse me?” he said reflexively. Elves and fae working together? And then telling Ed, a mere mundane? “You what?” This could not be good.

  Arne looked annoyed by Ed’s shock. “We do not have a Heimdall elder elf here. We cannot manipulate space as easily as the fae and we felt it important that you have magical backup as fast as possible.” He sighed. “The deal did not concern you or your children.”

  Yes it did. She’d showed up on that beach specifically to help them. “Arne…”

  Arne stared at the hole in the house. “It was worth it. A man should not miss the birth of his child.” Then the Elf King of Alfheim gripped Ed’s shoulder and turned back toward Maura and the kids. “Magnus thinks we should build you a new house,” he said. “We could ward and charm it properly, plus get you enough bedrooms, now that you are seven. Might take an extra few months, since it’s winter.”

  Ed picked up the last blanket and wrapped it around his shoulders. He didn’t care about the house. Not
right now.

  Sophia and Gabe waved from next to Maura’s sedan.

  Ed waved back. “I’ll call when I know!” he said.

  Gabe helped his sister into the car. Maura waved and drove them away, toward Frank Victorsson’s lake and hopefully a safe place to rest, at least for the night.

  “I think Gabe’s going to need to talk to someone,” Ed said. “He saw a vampire beheading.” He looked at Arne. “I don’t think he’s processed it yet.”

  “Hmm.” Arne watched Maura and the kids drive away. “Okay.”

  Gabe will be fine, Ed thought. He didn’t know why he felt that way, but he was pretty sure it was true. “We need to talk about Sophia,” he said.

  Arne nodded. “We do.” He ushered Ed toward his car. “Everything will be okay.”

  Arne’s inflection said he didn’t believe his own words—and that he probably didn’t realize that he didn’t believe his words.

  Ed didn’t argue, or ask more questions, or give Arne more information. He was too tired. “I need coffee.” And his wife needed him.

  “All right,” Arne Odinsson said. “Let’s get you to where you need to be, my friend.”

  Chapter 28

  Wrenn Goodfellow blinked awake inside a brilliantly warm ray of golden sunshine. The lovely cut glass doors to her left cast brilliant rainbows across the multifaceted parquet of flooring under the mat on which she lay.

  She was in Robin’s practice room and in the sun, which meant that Robin had moved her back into Oberon’s Castle from the beach in Texas. It also meant that she’d lost the rest of the night and probably most of the morning for no discernible reason beyond that it somehow benefited Robin.

  At least this time he’d put a pillow under her head.

  She sat up. No dryad armor, so he’d dealt with that. No sword, either. “Did you leave Redemption for the elves?” she said into the air.

  He was here, hiding behind a glamour between the rainbows, probably bored and angry that she’d stolen his morning fun even though knocking her out and leaving her in the practice room was his doing.

  He manifested out of a shaft of sunlight in the corner, still in his midnight blue uniform, still in his preferred young-male and tiny-nubbed glamour, staring at the phone in his hand as if the fate of the universe rested on his ability to win this round of Words with Friends.

  His eyebrow arched as he swiped through something on his screen. “Hmmm…” he said. “Useful.”

  “Robin,” Wrenn said.

  He still didn’t look at her.

  She snapped her fingers.

  He looked up. He frowned. Then he swiped one last time and put the phone inside his jacket. “I returned the armor,” he said.

  “Thank you.” Wrenn stood and stretched her back. “The sword?”

  He shrugged. “Did you know that enclave has a Freyr and a Freya elder elf? Plus that big burly Thor elf!” He threw his hands into the air. “They’re fully stocked, pantheon-wise.” He shrugged. “Almost.”

  She’d been in the presence of the Freya and Thor elder elves, plus another Thor elf and one named Sif who she was pretty sure wasn’t a Sif aspect. They’d talked about one named Magnus and their King, whose name, if she remembered correctly, was Arne Odinsson.

  So yeah, the North American elven enclave was probably quite well stocked with aspects of the Norse pantheon.

  Robin hadn’t answered her question. “Do they have the sword?”

  He shrugged again. “The Freyr, Freya, and Thor elder elves scooped it up off the beach, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  His evasiveness meant she wasn’t going to get a straight answer. Not right now, and likely not in the practice room, which meant the politics she’d hoped to avoid were here. Those same politics were probably why she’d lost the rest of the night and most of the morning.

  She walked over to his sunbeam. The golden light hit the side of her face and she instinctively turned toward the sun to warm her cold flesh. “Are you going to clue me in?” she asked.

  “You will receive guidance on how to word your final report, yes,” Robin said. “No need to be alarmist.” He sighed and tossed her a What can I do? look.

  He could do a lot. He could tell her the truth so that she didn’t accidently get caught up in something that might be dangerous not only to the fae she was supposed to protect, but to her personally.

  Or to Ed and his kids, because this was clearly a delicate situation in need of diplomacy, as the Queen had been kind enough to tell her.

  The Queen had also showed up after Red started calling out about Fenrir.

  And here Robin was telling her not to alarm anyone.

  Two hundred years of living with the fae and she’d always believed she’d earned enough respect from Robin and King Oberon, the Royal Guard, her neighbors—all of the fae, to be honest—that they wouldn’t play with her work. Daily stuff, she expected. The fae were fae, and they were as confined in their ways as every other magical. But the big stuff? Cases that involved murders and trafficking and vampires? Naughty was one thing. Evil was a whole new level.

  Malfeasance, she thought.

  Did she trust the Queen to actually deal with the kelpies? Or was she to be quiet about the vampires feeding on fae and an elven sword calling out about Fenrir and a secretive, powerful elven enclave living in North America?

  “I hear it’s been unseasonably cold in some of the Queen’s realms,” Robin said. “Like winter stayed all summer.”

  Yes, let’s not be alarmist. Or help anyone prepare. “It’s been the opposite in the mundane world,” she said. “Hot and full of plagues.”

  Robin slapped his goat knee. “Strange how that works.” He leaned in close to her ear. “I cleaned up all the messes while you slept. Go home. Feed your fishes. Take a day to rest in your own bed then write up your report.” He stood up and ushered her toward the door. “As a thank you for your hard work, I charged your Heartway tokens.”

  Wrenn looked down at the backs of her hands. She pulled up her sleeves.

  Robin had granted her ten Heartway tokens on each arm.

  “I don’t like those ghosts of yours. They’re… ugly.” He frowned and waved his hand dismissively. “I want you to stay away from them.”

  She’d happily stay away from Victor’s Heartway ghost, but she would not stop looking for his vampiric monster. Or promise to stay away from Victor’s other creation.

  She made no response to Robin. No words spoken, or nods given. No promises. No deals. Her Royal Guard oath meant something to her, even if it meant nothing to him.

  Wrenn turned on her heels. She placed her hand on her Royal Guard star as she walked toward the room’s grand entrance. She would do her job, no matter how deep the malfeasance in which she swam.

  “Don’t do anything rash, Wrenn!” Robin called. “You are a Goodfellow!”

  She stopped walking, but didn’t turn around. “Am I?” she said. Or am I Victorsdottir? she thought.

  He chuckled. She looked over her shoulder.

  Robin pulled out his phone and returned to swiping at the screen. “Remember where your debts lie.”

  Every one of her cold bones twitched as if restacking themselves. Every nerve and popping joint shifted from attending to its own pain to looking outward at the pain coming.

  She’d long wondered if this moment would come. If the fae treachery in which she lived would one day wrap its spindly fingers around her ankles and pull her so deep into its inky depths she no longer saw light.

  Because that was the true test. Could she kick hard enough to surface again? Once she resurfaced, would she be able to offer a hand to the others drowning? If not, then why was she a paladin? Why did she wear a Royal Guard star?

  Why did she stay with the fae?

  Because in her two hundred years, she had done good for everyday fae. She’d solved many other vampire-related cases. She’d helped Rich and Lush several times with miscreants. She’d hauled countless terrible boggarts from the
mundane world. She’d done what a lawgiver did.

  But this…

  She looked up at the rainbows dancing along the practice room’s ceiling. This might be a kelpie of a situation looking to make sure she drowned for good.

  Robin reached over his shoulder and grabbed something she hadn’t noticed before. “Take this with you,” he said.

  He’d been carrying Ed’s shotgun on his back this entire time? She walked back into the room, hand out, to take the gun.

  Robin rotated his hand with the phone so she couldn’t see the screen as he held the gun perpendicular to them, with the barrel aimed at the doors and not either of them.

  When she wrapped her hand around the stock, he didn’t let go. He glanced down at the gun and nodded ever so slightly.

  Rainbows danced along every surface of the weapon—rainbows that were not from the refractions in the room, but could easily have been interpreted as such if he hadn’t clued her in.

  She sighed and took the weapon. “Stealing from mundanes now, are we?” She checked the barrels and unloaded the shells. “Didn’t you at least check it first?”

  He shrugged and went back to looking at his phone. “Go home,” he said, and shooed her away.

  Wrenn turned her back on the fae she considered family and walked away.

  Chapter 29

  Wrenn Goodfellow sat at her kitchen table and watched the sunset cast pinks and golds through her sunroom windows. She’d fed her fish and watered her plants. Straightened up, too, and had a light meal when she got home. But mostly, she’d sat at the table staring at the sunroom threshold, waiting.

  All of the syndicate-related files except the pixie vellum one were gone when she’d returned home, including her handwritten notes on the pad she’d kept on the table. And she’d logged into her Royal Guard account to find all of her draft reports also missing.

  She checked the full Guard database. Her access to files and reports from the Queen’s realms had been restricted, which, it seemed, was a “mistake” on the part of the house brownies in charge of IT and would be fixed “shortly.”