Dervishes Don't Dance: A Paranormal Suspense Novel with a Touch of Romance (Valkyrie Bestiary Book 2)

by Kim McDougall

  “Nonsense. We all did what we had to that day. And your friend’s actions saved a lot of lives. Among the courtiers, they’re calling it the Great Scream.”

  “It was that.” I sipped my tea. It was fruity, flowery and earthy all at once, a signature fae blend that no one else could replicate.

  The lights flickered. I glanced up, but Leighna ignored it as a goblin came in with a tablet and a brief needing her signature.

  While she dealt with the interruption, I peered around the room. Like the offices below, her private chambers were decorated in light woods and neutral colors that appealed to my Scandinavian roots. We sat in a large parlor. Windows flanked by thin drapes in a bronze material dominated one wall. Three closed doors on the shorter walls probably led to bedrooms, baths or offices. In the corner by the window, a small shrine was set up—a stone basin with a fountain splashing quietly. A statue of a young boy stood under the spray with his back to the room. Fresh flowers had been laid along the basin some hours ago, and they were wilting.

  Something about the angle of the stone boy’s head sparked a memory. It was Alvar’s cocky stance.

  Leighna caught me looking. “He was such a happy child. I don’t know what happened.”

  I didn’t know what to say. Alvar had betrayed her, and we’d all watched his new allies murder him, but she’d built a shrine to him in her rooms.

  “He was a twilight baby, you know. Our parents were already eight-hundred years old when they had him. They’d forgotten how to be parents, really. I practically raised him.” She clutched her teacup as if needing its warmth. “But you’re not here to talk about my family, are you? You’re here to learn about your father.”

  “You were gracious to offer me a boon. I did nothing but bring you news that broke your heart.”

  “News that gave us a fighting chance.” She sat up straighter, and I sensed a bit of her old confidence. The lights flickered again. This time, Leighna glanced up and frowned before continuing. “And you were gracious enough to ask for a worthy gift in return. In truth, you should have been told about your father years ago.”

  “I don’t understand why his name provokes such strong reactions in the fae. Some seem to revere him and others despise him.”

  Leighna sipped her tea and took her time to answer.

  “How much do you know about Timberfoot’s death?”

  “Very little. I never met him. So I know next to nothing about his life or death. Only what I hear the fae whispering sometimes.” And the few grudging bits I had pulled from my mother and grandmother. Neither liked to talk about him and didn’t see any reason I should be curious.

  “You have his eyes, you know. The same speckling like blue quartz.”

  I shifted in my chair. Leighna’s gaze was on a horizon that no longer existed, and I was suddenly curious about how well the queen knew my father.

  “He was a handsome man. Strong, but tender. Tall and broad shouldered with huge hands that were delicate enough to hold a butterfly.”

  Yep, my dad and the queen totally got it on.

  “You’re right that most fae revere him. He was our savior. Only a few misinformed miscreants believe he had anything to do with the demon. It was pure coincidence that they arrived around the same time.”

  “Demon? Here in Montreal?”

  Leighna shook her head. “In Underhill. This was during the Flood Wars. The demon Horak. You remember him.”

  I didn’t.

  “I spent the Flood Wars in Asgard. Didn’t return to Montreal until just a few years ago. I should know this history, but I don’t.”

  “You were lucky. Terra was hell back then. Magic burgeoned and at first, we fae welcomed it. With the ley-lines swelling we could easily move between the two worlds. But then humans learned to tap the magic, and they did what humans always do. They weaponized it. They learned quickly to summon vicious creatures from other realms to wage their wars. And the fae retreated to Underhill to wait out the madness.”

  She looked thoughtful. “I thought we’d return to Terra one day and find a desolation overrun by demons. Many times, the humans begged my father, the king, to join the fight, but he declined. And so we hid.

  “During this time, your father found his way to Underhill. It had become a haven not just for the fae, but for others like the dryads and some godlings. Timberfoot was not a fighting man. Like most dryads, he preferred the gentler arts. But he was as strong as he was poetic, like an oak.” She smiled, remembering some personal joy.

  “The demon showed up about this same time. My father sent soldiers to fight him but they never returned. It seems Horak had a taste for fae.”

  I swallowed my tea in a lump. “He ate them?”

  “He ate their magic, which amounts to the same thing. And every fae he consumed only made him stronger. By the time he reached the Winter Court, he was unstoppable. And so we fled. Alvar, Timberfoot and I. My parents stayed to fight him, to give us a chance to escape.” She closed her eyes. “I never saw them again.”

  “That must have been terrible.” I’d fled my home too, leaving my mother and my grandfather. No matter the reason for leaving, family always tugs on you.

  “Terrible was still ahead of us,” Leighna said. “We rode through Underhill, urging all the fae to return to Terra, but Horak’s minions had already been through most of the countryside. So much death.” She shook her head and her eyes gleamed with tears even though she spoke of events that happened half a century ago.

  “As we rode, we closed every door from Underhill to Terra. We knew that if Horak followed us into the new world, there would be no stopping him. His minions harries us the entire way—small, vicious creatures like angry spiders. And at the last gate, we made our stand. The last gate to Terra. If I closed it, I would sever the connection between the worlds. We could never return.”

  She paused, and the only sound was the burble of the fountain on Alvar’s shrine.

  “I waited as long as I could, hoping against hope that my parents would come. But Horak came instead, and I knew they were lost. I was ready to close the door. It would have killed me. The severing of two worlds requires enormous energy. But Timberfoot had other ideas. We came through the gate. He kissed me and I knew by the look in his eye I’d lost him too.”

  She reached for a pendant hanging on the chain around her neck. It was a tree of life carved from green stone. I’d thought it a pretty ornament, now I suspected it held deeper meaning.

  “Alvar knew what Timberfoot was up to, and he pulled me away, but in truth, it happened so fast, I couldn’t have stopped him.”

  She looked me right in the eye. “Your father sacrificed himself to close the last gate to Underhill, but because of him the link between our worlds wasn’t permanently severed. In true dryad fashion, he transformed into a tree and his roots pierced the veil, connecting the two worlds. As long as his oak stands, we can go home.”

  There were a whole lot of feels to unpack in that story. I didn’t know where to start. Should I be proud of my father for saving so many fae? Should I resent him for leaving my mother and I and finding a new family to love?

  Leighna watched me with an intense stare. She expected some reaction from me. I chose my words, focusing on the logic and not my stunted emotions.

  “But Alvar went back to Underhill. I was there. What about this Horak? Maybe he’s already gone.”

  “Perhaps. I think it more likely that he slumbers after glutting himself on fae magic. Alvar was lucky. Stupid and lucky. If they’d stayed longer, the demon would have eventually felt the fae presence and come for them.”

  I shivered, thinking of my near miss.

  “That means you planned to sacrifice yourself that night at the condo,” I said. “To close the door to Underhill.”

  “I knew it was a risk. But as long as Timberfoot’s oak stands—and it does—it’s not
a true severing.”

  In the silence that followed that story, I felt acutely my sword’s agitation.

  “I would like to see Timberfoot’s tree one day.”

  “And so you should.” She unhooked the necklace and held it in a fist. “He would want you to have this.”

  I stared at her closed fist with the bit of silver chain dangling down and gently pushed it aside.

  “No. I think he would like you to have it.” Timberfoot had sacrificed his life for this woman. That was a stronger love than I could claim from him.

  She smiled and held onto the necklace. I could see relief in her eyes. It was probably the last piece of him she could hold onto.

  My sword had had enough of being abandoned, and its psychic wail grated across my nerves. I winced.

  “That’s quite the vocal sword you have,” Leighna said. “Bring it here and let’s see if we can quiet it.”

  Embarrassed, I fetched the blade and laid it, still in the sheath, on the table between us.

  “It’s getting worse,” I said. “I can’t leave it behind anymore, and my glamor isn’t strong enough to hide it from everyone. It’s become a real problem.”

  Leighna reached forward but didn’t touch it. Something unspoken passed between her and the blade.

  “It needs to feed. You are Valkyrie?”

  I nodded.

  “This blade was made to ferry souls to the afterworld. You’ve been denying it its birthright.”

  I sighed. She sounded just like Aunt Dana.

  “It’s a little hard to find wounded warriors to poke with it,” I said.

  She raised her eyebrows in frank denial of my claim.

  “Okay, so in the last few months, it may have seen a little too much death, but that seems to make it pine for more. I would just like it to be quiet long enough for me to leave it at home once in a while.”

  Leighna studied me.

  “I can quiet it temporarily, but first tell me, what are your true motivations for wanting to silence the blade? Do you resist out of fear or some misguided sense of inferiority?”

  I squirmed in my seat. Leighna was hitting a little too close.

  “Maybe once I did. Not anymore.” I wouldn’t waste her time with my existential tale of woe. “Now it’s more a matter of practicality. Apart from never being able to leave it behind, there are people in my life who might see the blade as an easy way out of their immortal ennui. I won’t let that happen.”

  Leighna raised an eyebrow. “Are you talking about a certain handsome Guardian?”

  “Maybe. But he’s not the one I’m really worried about.” I told her about my encounter with Emil and his look of longing toward my sword.

  “This makes me unhappy.” Leighna frowned. “Emil is the son of a good friend of mine. That’s why I let him stay within the ward. Lady Lughwaite would be heartbroken if anything happened to her son.”

  She gripped my sword with both hands around the sheathed blade and closed her eyes. I felt the burst of magic from her and instantly, the sword quieted.

  Leighna sighed. “I calmed it for now, but it’s a temporary fix. Your best solution would be to embrace your Valkyrie heritage and do the sword’s bidding. But I can see by your expression that won’t happen. There is a ritual that will put the blade into a sort of stasis. I can teach it to you, but you must know that while in stasis the blade will be just like any other blade. Its magic will sleep.”

  “And what would I give you in return for this ritual?” I wouldn’t take anything for free from the queen of the fae.

  “Smart woman.” The lights went out for several seconds and came back on. “As you can see, I seem to have a leech problem in the basement.” Leighna nodded toward the light fixture on the ceiling. “I’ll help you with your sword, and you can clear the building of those electricity leeches.”

  Vermin. I could deal with that. I agreed.

  “Good. Barter is always favored in the eyes of the gods,” she said. “Come back tomorrow for the leeches, and the instructions for the stasis spell will be waiting for you when you leave.”

  The goblin appeared again, though she hadn’t summoned him. I picked up my sword and followed him out, stopping at the door for one last question.

  “If I put the sword into stasis, but then need to…need its magic again. How do I bring it out?”

  Leighna was standing by Alvar’s shrine, still clutching the tree of life necklace in her fist. She smiled. “Like in any good fairytale. With a kiss.”

  Chapter

  15

  I kept my promise to Leighna and returned to the Winter Court the following day to rout the leeches that were wreaking havoc with her electrical system. My new apprentice tagged along. Jacoby had insisted on having his own tool belt, just like mine, but his hips were too scrawny and the belt kept slipping down around his knees. We stopped twice in the parking lot so he could hike it back up.

  “That won’t work,” I said finally. Jacoby clutched his precious belt as if I might take it from him.

  “Let’s try it another way.” I unclipped the belt and re-fastened it over one shoulder and around his skinny chest. “There. Now you look like a bad-ass commando.”

  “I haves bad ass?”

  “Definitely.”

  He strutted the rest of the way, until we met the troll guard at the door, and then he scooted behind my legs.

  I flashed my widget to the troll to prove my identification. She scanned her screen, looking for my name on the approved list of visitors. Her thick fingers worked the device with surprising ease. Trolls weren’t the brightest bulbs on the string, so I was surprised to find one in such a position of authority. Deep-set black eyes stared at me from a flat, round face. She wore makeup—sparkly turquoise eyeshadow and vivid red lipstick. Deep wrinkles lined her green-gray cheeks and sprouted moss-like hair. The top of her head was covered in the same green fuzz, only longer. Some kind of small rock troll? I was too polite to ask, but I’d search my database when I got home. Collecting and identifying new species was a hobby that got me into trouble more than once.

  “I have only you on the list,” the troll said in a grinding voice. “Who’s this?” She pointed at Jacoby.

  “My assistant.”

  “Not on the list.” Clearly the list was everything.

  “Well, if you expect me to find leeches without an assistant, you’ll have to come and do the dirty work.” I smiled. “Fancy crawling into an air vent or two?”

  She pinched her brightly painted lips and made a call. After getting approval for Jacoby, she pointed to a door. “Basement.”

  “Thanks.” I wouldn’t get any more help. That was fine. I preferred to work unsupervised.

  Electricity leeches could be messy. They laid eggs on power lines, and when the babies hatched, they fed off the current. They were immune to most poisons, so foggers didn’t work. The only way to eradicate them was to pull them off, one by one, like grubs. Usually, all the wiring needed to be replaced, and one missed leech meant the infestation could blossom again.

  Most pest controllers wouldn’t take on leeches because they couldn’t guarantee success. They weren’t my favorite job, but I had an advantage. I could keen the little buggers down to the last egg. So I was pretty confident that I could fix the problem.

  Now I just had to find them.

  The stairs to the basement were brightly lit, but as I descended, the lights whined and flickered. We halted on the staircase and waited it out. When the lights steadied, we moved on.

  The basement opened into one large room with a narrow hall at the far end leading to a bunch of closed-off storage areas. The ceiling was low and oppressive, the walls lined with shelves that held office supplies, small appliances and linens. Everything was clean and orderly. I swiped a hand across one shelf. No dust.

  As I moved to the far
wall, the shelves became messier with boxes of miscellaneous junk.

  Then the lights went out. The darkness was absolute. I fumbled in my pack for a gleam, shook it and let it hang in the air above us. Unlike some of the fancier alchemic gadgets, gleams didn’t make me antsy. They were simple magic—power stored from a ley-line. Since our trip to the Inbetween, I’d been using the gleam on the job, but it didn’t hold a charge for long, and now it barely lit a ten-foot radius.

  I reached out with my keening, trying to feel the leeches. Nothing.

  I walked on, searching until I found the breaker box at the end of the hall. It should have been a mecca for leeches, but the wiring was clear. To be sure, I unscrewed the plates on a couple of light switches to check their wiring. Still clean.

  “Kyra-lady?” Jacoby hadn’t been more than a step behind me the whole time.

  “Yes?”

  “I feels bad.”

  The lights flickered on, blinding me for a second before they went out again. I dropped my screwdriver and Jacoby yelped.

  I keened out again, this time not focusing on the wiring in the walls, but just…reaching. The darkness pressed on me. My keening searched through the miasma of magic, as if pushing through a thick soup, and then…

  We weren’t alone in the basement.

  “Something hummmongous,” Jacoby whispered.

  The lights flickered like a strobe. The extremes of brightness and darkness burned across my corneas. I could almost hear it, as if the light slapped me. Jacoby clutched my hand. I pulled him back to the breaker box and shut the breaker to the basement, plunging us into steady darkness again.

  My heart raced. Jacoby’s hand trembled in mine. Or maybe it was me trembling. My eyes adjusted slowly. The gleam was losing its charge fast. It floated at knee height twenty paces away and was no brighter than a dying match. I grabbed it out of the air before it crashed.

  Jacoby danced from foot to foot. He could teleport away, but he took his apprenticeship seriously, and I would only insult him if I suggested that he leave. Instead, I moved back into the main storage area, rummaged through the boxes and found an old pillar candle with the wick burned down deep in the wax. I scrounged a match from my pack and lit it.