by Rhys Ford
“Wait, so you decided to start up a breeding production line? For what? To have armies to throw against the humans?”
“No.” Ryder looked shocked, and he ran his hand through his hair. “I helped so my sister could have children, and if it worked, then others. We have to change, Kai. We have to change our ways if we’re going to survive here.”
“So you stomped out of your safe little haven up North to form your own club down in San Diego?” The day dragged me down, the whiskey that burned off the taste of baby in my throat now resting in my sour empty stomach. “And let me get this straight, those are pure sidhe babies in there. When you said your sister’s, that means they’re your nieces. We can’t… you know, cross-pollinate, right?”
“We can’t,” he said. “But, with help from a healer, a human woman can carry our children.”
“Huh.” I knew I didn’t sound convinced. “Why would anyone want to?”
“Because we’re people, and a dying one at that,” Ryder explained. “An elfin woman ovulates rarely, and if the egg is fertilized, her body treats it as diseased, something to kill off. So our children die before their mother’s womb can nurture them. That’s why I started looking for human surrogates.”
“How many of these wombs do you have lined up?”
“Just Shannon. And whatever untruths I’ve told you, I wasn’t lying when I said she’s my sister’s friend. She is. They became very close during this experience.”
“You’re playing God and Goddess,” I said. “The damned elfin live for centuries. There are evolutionary reasons they don’t breed as often as the humans. How the hell can a planet sustain a race that breeds quickly and doesn’t die off?”
“I used to agree with you. Then I compared sidhe births to the deaths we’ve had since the Merge, and we’ve fallen far below a zero population,” Ryder argued. “The Dawn Court is declining quickly, and the Dusk Court numbers are worse, from what I can tell. It’s imperative for our survival to increase our numbers, Kai. Do you think I’d manipulate our bodies and culture just to play God?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I don’t know you.”
“And I don’t know you,” he said softly. “How could I be honest with you until I knew how strongly you felt? What I’m doing—what I’ve done—will estrange me from most of my Clan and House. Forming a Court in San Diego was my only option. I needed to give Ciarla and her children someplace safe to live in case they’re cast out.”
“Shit.” I exhaled. My body was worn, wrung dry from the day. If I had a choice, I’d crawl into the car and fall asleep, blood and baby goo be damned. “I can’t think anymore. Everything’s jangled up in my head.”
“You’ve had what? A couple hours of sleep and how much food?” Ryder asked. “Killed a dragon using your car and got caught in two binding circles. Did I forget anything?”
“Babies,” I said, saluting him with my water. “Don’t forget sucking out and swallowing baby juice. Which I will never ever do again. I’m crossing that off my list of things I’ll do on a run. We really should get out of here. I know black dogs. They’ll be on our asses soon enough.”
“Still trust me enough to drive your car?” he asked.
“Have you seen my car? This was supposed to be a simple run.” I ran a hand along the bumper, my fingers tracing the deep bite marks in the steel. “I was going to say forget about paying me, but after the swallowing mouthfuls of uncooked sidhe egg, I’ll be sending you a damned huge bill.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
ANY RETORT Ryder had was lost when the hut’s steel door rattled, shaking furiously on its skewed rails. In a second, my fatigue burned off, and I headed to the front of the car then reached in to grab my shotguns.
“It’s got to be the dogs,” I said, loading in iron-packed shells. I was out of slugs, and the most I could hope for would be slowing the black dogs down until we could get onto the road. Something pawed at the door, and I heard it shift on the track, sticking a few inches off the ground.
“We don’t know that,” he replied, and a howl sliced through his words.
“Nope, those are the dogs,” I said.
“We should have locked that behind us.” Ryder swore and grabbed at the keys I held out to him.
“It’s the only way to get the Mustang out, and we wouldn’t get far on foot. Especially not with Shannon and… those things,” I replied.
Shannon peered at me, sleep tugging her face down. “Is there something wrong?”
“Stay down,” I ordered her. “You’re in the safest place we’ve got. Nothing’s going to be able to come through to get you, not without a fight. Ryder, is that circle going to hold? Even if it’s not dogs, it could be something else.”
“There’s no circle. I had to break it, or it would have killed you,” he said grimly.
“At least take the Glock.” I grabbed the gun from the side of the storage crate. “I’m going to have to flip the engine over. We’ll never make it out of here on the electric.”
“If the shotgun didn’t stop those things, do you think this is going to?” Ryder asked as the door rattled again, rising a bit more.
“In this case, it’s not the gun that’s going to make the difference, it’s the ammo. Nothing I’ve got left is going to kill them unless they’re close in. Just aim in the general direction of anything with teeth and press down on the trigger. I’m going to get the engine switched over.” I reached into the trunk, moving the shallow crates aside. “It’s not like they have fingers and can open the damned door.”
Comprised of a flat generator and engine, the electric system fit up against the backseat, but switching it over was difficult, especially when I was half-dead. Disconnecting the lantern leaders with a grabbing pull, I went to work on the switch sequence. My fingers fumbled. I finally got the combination right, priming the already warmed up gas engine.
“It could be a hermit and not the ainmhí dubh.” Ryder frowned as I righted myself.
“If it’s some lonely guy looking for company and howling for it, then great. We’ll pass him some whiskey and head on out,” I said. “It doesn’t matter who is out there; they’re probably not going to like us. I’m going to need you to get into the car.”
“I could be the one to open the door.” Typical of Ryder, he stood fast, arguing to his last breath. “I’m in better shape to run after you pull the car out.”
“We need accurate firepower more than we’ll need driving skill.” Shutting the trunk, I shot a stern glance at Shannon, who peered out at me through the back window. She dropped her head down before I could say anything.
Ryder didn’t have time to respond either. The door blew in, sending long strips of metal flying into the Quonset. I ducked behind the Mustang, and it rocked from the impact. Ryder dove down next to me, curling into a ball with the Glock cradled between his hands. The air smelled of arcane, an oddly curious scent of electrified blood. Pieces of the rolling door came to a violent rest at my feet, the metal scorched and twisted. Something powerful had just smoked the bay door, blowing through the segments.
Rolling out from under the Mustang, I came up on one knee and started firing, both shotguns booming at the ainmhí dubh nearly on us.
My first blast hit, tearing into a black dog’s shoulder. The creature twisted in midleap, coming down on its three good legs, and howled, rattling my hearing with its piercing cry. Its jaws snapped at my face, barely missing my cheek, and I gagged on the foulness of its carrion-rank breath. The thing moved fast, bouncing away from me as if I’d not just shot it in the haunch.
I heard Ryder firing the Glock. Praying to Dalia’s murdered god for safety, I backpedaled a few feet, tracking the large dog as it circled me. With its head reaching my chest, the creature should have been an easy target, but it moved with frightening speed, terrifying me with the bristle of teeth jammed into its mouth. It snapped at my head and nearly connected, shearing off strands of my hair. Getting a taste of me, the dog swallowed and growled l
ow in its throat, sprinting back to make another run.
Tucking down one of the guns, I jacked the other open, popped the shells out, then reloaded. I’d barely brought the muzzle up when the dog was on me again, its acidic spit burning dabs on my neck. As close as the hound was, it was impossible to miss. The trick was not missing well.
Shanks of dirty fur hung from its jowls, making it difficult to find the spot I wanted. Perversely, every one of the damned things was different in shape, some with long sloping heads and compact bodies, while others were stocky and had brick-hard forms. What they had in common was a foul stink and blotchy, oily black marble skin patched over with uneven clumps of spiky fur—and an insatiable desire to rip their prey apart.
This one was no exception. It intended to have me for breakfast, no matter what I had to say about it.
The shotgun’s muzzle fit into the V of its jaw, and I tilted the stock, aiming for the back of the dog’s head. Expelled gunpowder bloomed black roses over me, speckling my skin. A wash of dog blood struck me, some of the bitter fluid splashing into my mouth before I could turn away. It continued to barrel forward, its head, missing half of its skin, flapping out behind it.
I rolled my shoulders out of the way, grabbing the shotgun I’d tucked away, and did a fast reload. Coming to my feet armed, I froze, staring at the long-bodied unsidhe standing amid the carnage of the Quonset’s bay door.
His hands were ringed, spiked and gemmed circlets of metal that burned with light. Dressed in midnight blue cotton, he might have been a human dressed in a formal sherwani and slacks, except none of the humans I knew had bone white hair shot through with thick streaks of ebony and sapphire.
His creamy skin fit tight on his bones, his face a rigid mask of control and arrogance. Hook nosed, he looked down its length, piercing me with his metallic gray and blue eyes, and a smile formed on his cold face.
I knew his face. I’d seen it often enough in the darkness of my mind, and my body ached with the memory of the rings he wore on his fingers.
The unsidhe pursed his mouth, whistling to call off the other two dogs pacing near the door. They stalked closer to him, crimson eyes fixed on me. Ryder came up behind me, and a third dog limped toward the unsidhe, its side sticky with blood. The black dogs sniffed at the third, snarling and snapping at its injury, their teeth digging into its ripped skin. The Hunt Master spoke to the dogs with a cutting command, and they separated, sulking and grumbling.
If the Dawn Court spoke in golden ribbons, the Dusk slithered with smoky shadows. Some words were shared between the elfin, but a phrase’s meaning often hid cultural references and veiled intimacies. Plainly spoken and kept to the basest inflection, an unsidhe could make himself understood to a sidhe, their exchanges mostly kept to insults during times of diplomacy and death threats in times of war. Regional differences altered the language more, drifting and changing with the land, but the Hunt Master’s dialect was too familiar for my nerves.
“I didn’t believe my pack when they scratched at this door,” the Wild Hunt lord said in accented Singlish, his outstretched hands palms down to keep his lead dogs at bay. Stroking at the largest of the three dogs, he scratched behind one of its ears, flaking off large pieces of dried skin from its diseased-looking head. “Not only do I find the little Golden Lordling with his monsters, but also a wayward little kitten taken from his home.”
He studied me, flicking a piece of his long hair from his face. I couldn’t read his expression. He’d always been the coldest of my memories, an icy tormentor with a clinical detachment as he inflicted pain.
“What do you want?” Ryder pushed forward, angling to place himself between me and the unsidhe.
“I was sent to kill you, Ryder, Clan Sebac, Third in the House of Devon.” The unsidhe sighed, languidly taking a step into the Quonset. His Wild Hunt followed, circling wide around him with long slinking legs. “But then I find with you the sweetest of meat. How I’ve missed having parts of you on my tongue, peata.”
I was stronger and probably more stubborn. I also had more to lose. Spitting to clear my throat, I struggled to keep my breathing even. His words raped me, weakening my knees, and I felt spread apart, left wide for his barbs to hook into me. Ryder’s grandmother had taken me by surprise, capturing me in her trapdoor spider web, but things were different now. I wasn’t bound by sigils and blood.
“Screw you, Lavan,” I snarled, shaking my mind free of the unsidhe’s hastily muttered casting. “That’s your name, right? I couldn’t quite make it out between the others’ grunting as they had you.”
“You’ve grown teeth, little lizard,” he replied, laughing softly. It was a wild sound, tainted with madness and desperation. “Do you even know what you’ve found, Ryder of the Dead? Do you even know the treasure you stumbled upon as you bumble about to destroy our Races?”
“What the hell are you on about?” Ryder stood at my side. The sidhe’s taller form leaned toward me, our shoulders touching. His warmth gave me strength, grounding me against the Hunt Master’s commands. “What is he talking about, Kai?”
“I am talking about the one thing Tanic, Lord Master of the Wild Hunt, badly wants returned to him,” the Hunt Master said, bowing slightly. “That creature standing next to you is his son, the Chimera.”
I winced at the sound of my Singlish name being spoken out loud. It laid me open as neatly as if I’d been carved from my throat down to my crotch with a sharp knife.
So I shot him.
CHAPTER TWENTY
“GET IN the car, Ryder!” I shouted, bringing my other gun up and firing at the black dogs charging forward. “And let’s go.”
He hesitated, emptying the rest of his clip at the animals. Not stopping to see if any of his shots hit, I vaulted over the back end of the car and tossed one of the shotguns into the front, hooking my hand into the doorframe to slide through the open passenger window.
Reaching under the seat, I fumbled about for the slim ammo cases I’d stashed there, trying not to think about the fluids under my ass. Behind me, Shannon pulled the crate down, lodging it in the gap between the backseat and the after-stock console. Ryder slid into the driver’s seat and turned the key.
The engine rumbled, firing up with one pump of the pedal, and Ryder punched the Mustang’s accelerator, aiming straight for the black dogs’ master. Gray smoke plumed out behind the car as the tires spun on the concrete, cooking thin layers of pungent rubber into the floor. The Mustang spun to the side, hitting the salt. It gained traction and surged forward. Undaunted by the heavy steel carriage, the black dogs were on us, cranking their jaws open wide to snap into the car’s metal skin.
An ejected shotgun shell hit my arm as I fired at the misshapen creature trying to claw through the windshield. Its back end scrambled to stay on the hood, and the black dog hooked its front claws over the wiper relays. The glass smoked where the dog’s slobber hit it, white frosted trails forming behind the dribbles.
Half leaning out the window, I tried to shoot it off when we hit the unsidhe. The shot went wide, my aim thrown by the impact. A swirl of dark blue cloth shot up over the car, tumbling over the front end and slamming into the windshield before sliding over the edge. The glass gave, overstressed after so much abuse, crackling into minute webs. I’d paid through the teeth to have Kevlar glaze spread over the pane. I’d eaten saimin for a month to scrape up enough money to coat my run-car’s glass, and when it counted the sacrifice paid off.
The glass held, suctioned into place by the glaze. Breathing a sigh of relief, I reloaded as we hit weed-choked asphalt, speeding over the uneven road.
“Nice hit. It’ll take a while to get up after that,” I said, shoving a shell in. The over-under shotguns cost me more than Kevlar, but they loaded quickly, and the spent casings ejected out with a minimum of recoil.
“Get up?” Ryder quickly looked behind him. “Damn. I was hoping the ainmhí dubh would….”
A speckled-skin monster caught up with us, its broad shoulders
even with the Mustang’s open window. The black dog kept its head down, and it twisted, slamming into the car. We skidded, the hit hopscotching us sideways over the road. The suspension groaned, complaining about the abuse, before the gears kicked back in and Ryder got Oketsu back under control.
It struck us again, rattling the car down to its frame. Bearing the gun’s muzzle down, I waited until its body shifted again, its high shoulder blades angling as its powerful legs slanted to turn. Ryder’s nieces began screaming when I blasted both barrels into the creature. Its angry howls drowned out the babies’ cries. Then the beast lunged at me, a wide break of skin and meat flapping over its jowl.
Cracking the shotgun open, I used the other to take a wild shot to the creature’s head. With the other stock shucked between me and the seat, I worked in a reload, struggling to keep my balance on the moist leather seat when Ryder veered off the road and onto the ramp leading to the old highway.
“Tell me this road goes somewhere,” he said, steering through the overhang of trees crowding in from the hills banking a curve. Dawn was at least an hour away, but the sky was starting to lighten, going pink at the edges and turning a lighter dusky blue overhead. “Kai, do you know where we’re going?”
“Sort of. Just drive,” I muttered back. The guns were hot, so handling them had to be done carefully. A moving car wasn’t my preferred duck blind, but it would have to do, especially when a mangled ainmhí dubh bobbed up and down behind Oketsu’s trunk. In the distance, another speck was gaining on us, the large black dog’s smaller companion joining the hunt.
Leaves cut at my face, blowing through the open window. I tried remembering the lay of the road, its serpentine loops weaving in and out of the low hills. The lanes opened up for a long stretch, low brush and trash-leaf trees turning to bright floral crazy quilt patterned hills, remnants of SoCal’s flower industry. Left for fallow, the blooms rose and fell with the seasons, a dizzying vomit of colors spreading over as much land as the Pendle paho’eho’e.
