by A. R. Kahler
But then Eli walks in, and I’m reminded that my life isn’t that sort of story. Thank the gods.
“You’re doing it wrong,” Eli says, pointing to Kingston. “He’s supposed to be naked, too.”
Kingston opens an eye, then closes it. The fact that he doesn’t respond says more about how done he is than words ever could.
“Thanks for the food,” I say. “I’d say it was nice of you, but I don’t want to be insulting.”
Eli just makes a noise in the back of his throat and sits on the side of the tub. Water and bubbles lap against his white suit, but the fabric doesn’t seem to get wet.
“How’s showbiz?” Eli asks.
Kingston’s forehead furrows, but he once more doesn’t respond.
“Ah, I see. Going for strong and silent. I can get behind that.” He chuckles to himself at his little pun. The next thing I know, his clothes have vanished, and he’s sliding into the water. I’ll fully admit, Eli naked is a wonderful thing—every inch of him is chiseled to perfection, and the water and candlelight just make his dark skin gleam like candy. I don’t bother moving my legs out of the way. Eli’s skin burns when it brushes mine, but not in a bad way. It’s the thrill of a little danger, the touch of the forbidden. “So,” he continues, “who’s going where?”
“Not now, demon,” Kingston mutters.
“I prefer incubus, if we’re going that route, but I’ll take it.” Another chuckle. “I mean that, too. If that’s what you’re into.”
“Not tonight, Eli,” I say weakly. I don’t sidle away from him. His legs against mine are a reminder that there’s still something solid in this world. Even if it isn’t me. Even if it isn’t exactly of this world to begin with.
“Fine,” he mutters, sliding deeper into the tub, his chin just above the surface. “But if my hands accidentally go somewhere, I’m not apologizing.”
“Why did you bring him back?” Kingston asks.
“Because,” I say, “I needed him.”
“Aww,” Eli mutters, patting a little too far up on my thigh. His hand lingers. I don’t push it away.
I laugh. “Get over yourself, perv. I needed firepower. You’re my loose cannon.”
“For what?” Kingston asks.
“We’re going to kill Penelope.”
Water sloshes over the tub as Kingston bolts up to sitting.
“Penelope?” he asks. He may have been drinking, but his eyes are crystal clear and sharper than diamonds in that moment. “What do you mean, Penelope?”
“She’s the Pale Queen,” Eli says, grinning wryly. “I know the pretty ones are often the slowest, but come on, man. How are you not up to speed yet?”
“That’s . . .”
“Impossible, yes,” Eli says, and I can tell from the motion in the water that he’s patting Kingston’s thigh as well. “But it’s the truth all the same. Hard to believe as it is.”
Kingston glares at Eli. Under the bubbles, I’m not entirely certain if he’s pushing Eli’s hand away, either. I want to laugh—if Eli thinks he’s actually going to get some aquatic threesome out of this, he’s in the wrong tub.
“When were you planning on telling me?” Kingston asks.
“I just did. Besides, I thought you knew,” I say. “You had ideas before, didn’t you? And she did just hand you your ass. I figured that would have caused the big reveal.”
“I suspected it was someone from the troupe, yes,” he says. “But I always figured it was someone who had been let out. Someone who realized life outside the circus was gratingly dull in comparison. Penelope died. I would never have expected her to come back.” He pauses. “As for how I didn’t know, she wasn’t even there when the circus burned.”
“What happened?”
He looks at me as if he doesn’t want to talk about it, but after a moment he slides back under the water, just up to his neck. Eli moves his body ever so slightly closer.
“I want to say we put up a fight,” Kingston whispers in defeat. “But after Lilith did . . . well, after Lilith defended us the first time, she left. Said she was done fighting a losing battle. After that it was just me and, like, a rogue aerialist who had been hiding in his bunk during the first attack. The aerialist tried to flee as well, but I . . . convinced him . . . to fight. A few hours later another slew of faeries showed up. Aerialist dude died pretty quickly—he was just a mortal hired on after a fairly mundane killing spree. After that, I went down fast.”
He closes his eyes. “I felt like such a coward. I fought for a few minutes. But I was too weak to raise more than a handful of golems, and that didn’t last long. I vanished before my last construct fell.” His sigh is heavy, and when he speaks again, he actually does sound pained. It’s a frightening switch from pissed. “I watched the tent burn from afar. I watched them set everything on fire and dance around it like some pagan rite. The worst part was . . . there were humans there. Patrons. Most of them were killed, but a few escaped. The Fey broke the cardinal rule: they were seen. And they allowed their witnesses to live.”
“Not that it matters,” I say. “The world’s going to know about faeries soon enough anyway.”
“What?”
Now it’s my turn to sigh. I make a grabbing motion with my hand—Eli copies me with the hand on my leg—and Kingston slides the whiskey over to me. I take a long drink and finish it off.
“Okay, so Penelope isn’t stopping with Summer and Winter,” I begin. “She wants to take over the mortal world, too . . .”
By the time I finish recounting everything that happened on top of the tower in Winter, the water’s gone cold again. Kingston is too entranced by the story to enchant the water.
“We can’t let her. Obviously.”
“No shit, Sherlock,” I say. We’re all just sitting there in the tub while the wind rattles the window and the shanty music reels through the night. “That’s why I brought this one back.” I gesture to Eli, who’s the only one in the tub who doesn’t seem to give a damn about our predicament. He’s lounged back, hands behind his head and legs entwined with mine. He abandoned his attempts at feeling us up halfway through the story. Now, it looks like he’s waiting for one of us to pick up the gauntlet.
“But how?” Kingston asks. “We have nothing.”
“We have what the Oracle told us,” I reply.
“Which was so helpful.”
“Her name is writ in hell,” Eli mutters. “In blood and twilight, her name is spelled, and this name shall be her downfall. She must die where her shadow began. Where she ended, she must end again.”
“How did you know that?” I ask. “You weren’t even there.”
He shrugs. “I have my ways. And you have a terrible memory for quotables. I thought it would be prudent to memorize it.”
“I’ve been thinking about what Penelope said,” I continue. “About Mab’s contract being the reason she was still alive. How is it possible? Can a contract bring someone back?”
“She was still contracted when she was killed,” Kingston says. “The immortality clause is tricky. We’re contracted to be young and healthy forever—we don’t get sick, we don’t age. Injuries bounce off of us, including those that should be fatal. But Penelope wasn’t just killed. She committed treason. Hell, beyond treason—she tried to destroy Mab. It was nearly a coup. It should have been impossible under contract, but she managed to change the contracts, too. Everything she did damned her from the start. When Lilith killed her, she didn’t just end her life; she damned Penelope to the deepest pits of the astral plane. Penelope was incinerated and scattered and her soul was locked in purgatory, both by Lilith’s demonic self and the treason Penelope committed against Mab.” He takes a deep breath. “Penelope might have changed her contract on paper. But she couldn’t change the deeper magic that tied her to the show.”
“You’re almost starting to sound like you believe in morals,” Eli mutters. “Like there is some divine justice that sent her down there.”
“I don’t kn
ow what I believe,” Kingston says. “What I know is this: Penelope did the impossible. And for that, by contract or Lilith or, hell, the gods themselves, she was sent to a place from whence she should never have been able to return. A fitting punishment.”
“But she did return,” I say. “Because of Mab’s contract.”
“Mab’s contract kept her soul in limbo. Penelope was supposed to be able to return, but she was imprisoned for what she did. She couldn’t come back, even though a part of her was probably still bound to the mortal plane. Until someone came along and opened the door.”
“How did she become . . . this? I mean, she wasn’t just brought back to life. She was brought back as something else. Unless she was always this powerful.”
“She wasn’t. She was just a Shifter,” Kingston says. “Mostly she just turned herself into a mermaid and vogued underwater. Nothing scary or powerful. But I’ve seen what happens to mortals when they’re trapped in the netherworld or the hells of their own mind. They change. Gain power. Become demons.”
“Like Lilith,” I say. Kingston nods.
“Hell changes a person,” Eli says. For once, he sounds deadly serious. “For most, it destroys them. But for those with a grudge, it only sharpens the ax they’re grinding. If Penelope was locked as deep as I believe, subjected to torments beyond our imagining, she should have broken. Her soul should have fallen apart. But maybe that contractual tie to the mortal world kept her in the fight. Maybe it helped her focus her hate, transform what she experienced into power. They say that what does not kill you makes you stronger. She should have been killed a thousand times over. What she learned down there, what she underwent . . . Well, if you learn from hell, if you prove yourself worthy, hell itself has a lot to teach. Knowing her contract would eventually bring her back gave her something to latch onto.”
“That’s it,” I say.
“What?”
“The contracts. If her contract brought her back, her contract can end her.”
“We don’t have the book,” Kingston mutters. “If we did, we wouldn’t have been in this mess.”
“Don’t you dare try pinning this all on me,” I begin, but he waves his hand and cuts me off.
“Calm your tits. It’s not your fault. She stole the book so we couldn’t make changes. I couldn’t have expected you to get it back. Especially not in your current state.”
A part of me bristles at his words, but I don’t rise to the fight. I need him on my side. I’ll need magic to get the book back, and for that, I will need him.
Is it bad that it makes me more comfortable, knowing this? That I’m only keeping him around because I need to use him? It sure as hell makes things simpler.
“So we go get the book,” Eli says. “Then what?”
“We cancel her contract.” I say. “If it’s keeping her alive, we can’t ever truly get rid of her. She’ll just keep coming back. Like me.”
Eli chuckles. “The contract keeps her immortal, but I can assure you, it doesn’t give her power. She gained that from where she was imprisoned. Even if you do sever her immortality, how do you plan on actually killing her? I have no trouble going on this foolish quest with you, but I see no point in wasting our time if you still don’t know how to actually achieve it. You are a human, Claire. You couldn’t even kill me, and I am a far weaker being than this Pale Queen. Because, yes, she might have once been a Shifter named Penelope. But she is more than that now. She has been changed.”
“Unless you have a better idea, I say we try.” Kingston coming to my aid is a small blessing—it means I don’t have to beg him to help. “A weakened Penelope is better than nothing.”
“She will know,” Eli retorts. I’m not used to seeing Eli so serious. Especially when naked. The switch is unsettling. “She will know when you have stolen her book, just as she will know the moment you enter her castle. She has the entire world of Faerie at her back, and you would be a fool to believe she won’t release them on you should she think you have crossed her. The only reason you are alive right now is because she thinks you are dead.”
“Which just means she won’t expect me.”
“This is flimsy logic,” Eli says.
“It’s a risk we have to take.”
“Claire, I—”
“Listen,” I say, interrupting Eli before he can finish, “we don’t have much time. Penelope already has a shit ton of Dream at her disposal. She’ll open the gateways between the worlds any time now. The moment she does that, it’s over. Because even if we close the portals, we can’t erase the memories of everyone on earth.” I glance at Kingston. “No one has a magic that strong. Right now she’s distracted trying to bridge the worlds. She’s high on victory, and that will make her sloppy. We can get in and get out before she realizes it. It’s our best shot, and our window is closing.”
“Is it a bad thing if humans know about faeries?” Eli asks.
I laugh coldly. “Look what it did to me.”
“Point taken.”
“Besides, it’s not the knowledge I’m worried about. I watched Mab rule. She may have been a heartless bitch, but she kept her kingdom in check. When someone went out of bounds—revealed their true nature to a mortal, killed too many humans, whatever—she took action. She wasn’t afraid to stand up to her own subjects, and I know Oberon was the same. Penelope isn’t like that. The Fey have been held back for thousands of years. They’re hungry. If Penelope gives them free rein, it will be a bloodbath.”
“I find it surprising that you’re against that,” Eli muses. “After all we’ve discussed about predator and prey.”
“Yes, but this isn’t a fair fight. And no matter what you say, I’m not okay with millions of innocent people getting slaughtered.”
“So, how exactly are we going to do this?” Eli asks. “We just sneak into Penelope’s domain and get the book of contracts? How? She could have hidden it anywhere. Especially now that she has both Summer and Winter castles to hide in.”
“No,” I say. “I know where she’d keep it. She was building a castle. Well, her followers were building it for her. She’ll have it there.”
“How do you know?”
“She showed me in a dream.”
“Why?”
I shrug. “Pride. It’s her new empire. And now she has nothing to fear anymore, so why not keep the book in the place she plans on ruling the world from?”
“And you know where this place is?” Kingston asks.
I nod. “She gave me a good long look in the dream. She was showing off. And, you know, Eli was imprisoned there.”
“Vanity is the curse of the powerful,” Eli mutters. “You do realize, though, that her palace resides in the Wildness? And like all the times we have tried to track someone through the depths of that twisted wood, we cannot find that which doesn’t want to be found. Especially without your little trinkets.” He wiggles his fingers at this, as though I would have forgotten having my finger snapped off and the ring that led me to my mother stolen.
“I have something better,” I say.
“Enchanted handcuffs this time?” Eli asks sarcastically.
“No. A faerie with a vendetta.”
Eli stands to leave a little while later, when it’s clear that despite his best efforts this isn’t going to turn into anything exciting. He makes sure to stand by the tub for a long time, slowly drying himself off, making sure to show us every single angle. I catch Kingston glancing over a few times but say nothing of it. Dude might also like guys, but it’s not something I care to think about right now. Especially since the last time I saw Kingston in any sort of undress, it was at the Tapis Noir. I close my eyes and sink deeper into the tepid waters. All I really want to do is sleep for a week.
“I’m going to need to feed,” Eli says. “The Pale Queen wasn’t the most gracious of hosts, and I feel that what we’re about to do is a suicide mission. I’d like to at least enjoy a few more moments on earth before being thrown back into the netherworld.”
I wave my hand without even opening my eyes.
“Whatever you want.”
He doesn’t answer right away. “Whatever?”
“Go wild. Just don’t raise an alarm. And, you know, no children.”
“Obviously.”
He puts a hand on my shoulder and leans in to whisper into my ear. “You aren’t acting like yourself. Shall I take this one with me?”
He isn’t whispering that quietly. Kingston grunts.
I pat his hand. It’s cute when Eli tries to be protective. Cute, and a little creepy. “I’ll be fine. I can handle him. Even without magic.”
Eli’s grip tightens, and he leans even closer, until his lips are actually brushing my ear. My body shivers despite my best effort; usually when he does that, a tongue is involved.
“There is something I meant to tell you earlier.” Now his words are soft. So soft I think they might be enchanted so only I can hear. “I think you might have been wrong about having your powers taken away.”
He presses his burning lips to my temple and stands, trotting out of the bathroom before I can ask him what the hell he was talking about.
“What was that all about?” Kingston asks. I open my eyes. He’s watching me curiously. The bubbles are all gone now, and for some reason that makes me feel exposed.
“Nothing. Just being a dick.” But my heart’s racing. Was Eli telling the truth? Has being resurrected reset everything? Should I . . . could I try a bit of magic? No, not with Kingston watching. “You should probably go. It’s late. I need to sleep.”
His gaze breaks away. “I was going to ask you about that.”
“What?”
“I was hoping I could stay. Until the morning. I . . .” He takes a deep breath, like this pains him more than he wants to admit. “I don’t have anywhere else to go.”
“You have your mansion.”
