Orphaned Follies: An Urban Fantasy Thriller (Mortality Bites Book 4)

by Ramy Vance

  Even Tiny had left his master’s side to be with us in the kitchen. Sitting there, I saw the dog’s uncomprehending gaze replaced by intelligent, observant eyes. I had spent enough time among the fae to know what he was: a barguest, the fabled black dog of the UnSeelie Court. Intelligent, vicious and GoneGodDamn loyal to whomever they pledge their allegiance to.

  Tiny wasn’t Sarah’s Seeing Eye dog; he was her bodyguard.

  Only Freol didn’t move, staring with an impassive gaze at the fae in the room.

  “So,” I said, “I guess there’s a lot you’ve been hiding.”

  “I fear we have,” Remi said, “and before you ask the million questions I am sure you have, perhaps we can show you something.”

  ↔

  Remi removed his pendant and blew into it. So did the others. A mist of glitter flew out of them, combining in the center of the room to form a globe filled with a million tiny flickering bugs.

  “Beag solas, the Unseelie version of fireflies. They have been trained to tell a story. A story we all have watched over and over to remind ourselves of our purpose, and why we exist,” Remi said, running his hands through the golden mist.

  The globe began to form detailed images that few mortal hands could paint. The fae began to hum, imbuing the evolving light with emotion.

  And in this way, the story began to unfold.

  Connecting the Firefly Dots

  Three figures—a man, woman and child—stood by a golden river. The details in the morphing image were so precise that I immediately recognized Aelfric, and Sonia as a young child.

  The third figure was a woman with long amber hair cascading over her shoulders and down her figure. From the way they walked hand in hand, I knew this third figure had to be Heurodis.

  The three of them were so happy, like I was watching the happily ever after promised in so many fairy tales.

  But soon that happiness became something else. The fireflies traded their brilliance for something darker, something more sinister. Another scene unfolded.

  In it, Aelfric and a very young Sonia—maybe four or five—were camping, and while this scene had no words, I knew this was something father and daughter often enjoyed doing together. Even though this was a serene scene, the fae humming told me something horrible was about to happen.

  The scene flew away like glitter in a wind tunnel, and we were in a castle. Heurodis was combing her hair in what must have been her bedroom when Jack-in-Chains came crashing through the door. Well, crashing implies he pushed his way in. It was more like some incredible force pushed him in, if pushing mimicked the force of a train plowing through a cow.

  Jack, clearly hurt, rose to his feet and attacked the force that had pushed him aside like one might toss an annoying cat. I couldn’t see who or what was behind that blow—the fireflies didn’t band together to create an image of what it could be—but from the way Heurodis backed away, and the single-minded focus of Jack’s ineffectual attempts to overpower it, the source was clear.

  A single figure stood in the middle of the room.

  The giant leapt forward, bringing down two balled fists on the invisible figure. The blow was so powerful that the fireflies scattered like dust before reassembling into a scene that must have been hours later.

  There stood a wounded Jack, his left arm in a sling. He was standing guard over Heurodis’s unmoving body as Aelfric and Sonia lamented their loss.

  Heurodis was dead.

  The scene morphed. A war council had convened, and Aelfric sat on the throne. Several fae below were screaming for war—Remi amongst them—while others counselled against it. Both groups were yelling at each other and at the Elf King, who sat impassive. This went on for a long while before Aelfric lifted a silent hand, his decision finally made.

  There would be no attack on the human domain, no revenge sought for this kingdom’s loss.

  They would do nothing.

  Aelfric left the room as his council continued to shout and scream, desperate that this insult to their kingdom be answered.

  The fireflies’ glow dimmed and brightened, dimmed and brightened with the passage of time. Seasons came and went, trees grew and were felled before the bio-luminant, magical bugs settled on another time and place.

  Sonia, now eight or nine, lived in a cabin in the woods. Inside was modest, a home well taken care of, well-loved, but also devoid of any living soul except Sonia.

  She lived there alone.

  She was seated on the porch, her excitement palpable. I saw a girl who wanted nothing more than to run up the path leading to the cabin. And she would have, but her caretakers held her back with squeaked admonishments. My gaze focused on the spot next to Sonia, which magnified (the fae equivalent of spreading apart thumb and finger on an iPad, except this three-dimensional display was far more advanced than anything Apple ever came up with) to reveal three abatwas sitting next to her: Snap, Crackle and Pop.

  So Sonia wasn’t alone. She had three loving, capable caretakers with her. Granted, they were loving, capable and watch where you step tiny caretakers, but caretakers nonetheless.

  Sonia stared up the path until a figure came over the hilltop. She burst toward him, and there wasn’t a force in this world or any other that could have stopped her.

  The figure dismounted his steed and ran toward her, and with every step the fireflies revealed more details of who he was: King Aelfric.

  The halfling jumped into her father’s arms and the two of them hugged for a long time, the same sort of embrace they had shared in the conference room.

  Seeing that made two things very apparent. First, that King Aelfric worried for his daughter’s safety and hid her in the forest, away from the UnSeelie Court and his enemies who hid in the shadows.

  Second, they hugged that way because their relationship would soon end. This was the beginning of that end, and my heart thumped as I realized I would soon see what had separated them.

  In moments like this, as much as you anticipate the horror to come, as much as you try to will it away, fighting the inevitable is like trying to hold back a ferocious tide.

  Father and daughter sat together talking, laughing. They played a game of checkers as the sun continued its climb. Morning became afternoon, and afternoon became dusk.

  Dusk became night.

  That was when the monsters appeared.

  Several creatures attacked the cabin. Even King Aelfric, a force of unimaginable power, couldn’t be everywhere to protect his daughter. Felling beast after beast with his sword, he screamed for her to run.

  And the halfling child did as her father commanded. She ran into the dark forest surrounding her home. She ran and ran and ran.

  Even though the fireflies didn’t show me what she was thinking or unveil her feelings, I knew she was terrified. Perhaps this was because of the fae humming, but I didn’t think so.

  Because as much as their song imbued this horrific scene with emotion, I knew what she was afraid of, and it wasn’t the monsters.

  She feared that her father no longer breathed, that one of the beasts had got the best of him and left his body atop a patch of dirt in front of the cabin with his throat ripped out.

  A fate worse than death. More than that: his death was her death. And as fear so often does, it lied to her, telling her that these weren’t her worst nightmares playing macabre games with her mind, but the truth.

  Her father was dead. She was certain.

  And because his death meant she could no longer live, she stopped running and waited for the monsters to come and consume her, too. She waited for death and the dreams that follow.

  But death is a cruel bitch; she torments her prey. As the monsters surrounded her, they did not attack.

  She didn’t know this then, but they did not attack because she stood in a clearing, daring them to come forth. They interpreted her acceptance of the death they brought as a trap. They hesitated. They were afraid.

  The monsters were afraid of her.

 
Sonia picked up a rock and tossed it at them. Her aim was true and it hit one of the barguests between its eyes. The rock did little damage, more an insult than a blow, but it did the trick: the assaulted beast lunged forward, trap or no trap, to end the little girl.

  As it leapt into the air, Sonia lifted her thistle blade that the abatwas had constructed just for such a moment. And with it she stabbed deep into the barguest’s neck.

  The barguest bit down on her shoulder, and the two became locked in death’s embrace. Her blade bore down on the beast, and its fangs ripped her flesh.

  One of them would have to give, and soon it was a matter of will. Sonia stabbed it again and again, and soon the contest ended. Sonia was the victor, and the barguest was dead.

  But Sonia was mortally wounded.

  So be it. Sonia stood and gestured for the next beast. Three of them answered her call. They leapt into the air, and all three died before touching the ground.

  There stood King Aelfric with his sword, dispatching the beasts in a fury that would have frightened Oberon and Titania into groveling submission.

  The remaining beasts, seeing that they would not claim their victim this day, fled.

  King Aelfric embraced his bleeding daughter, showering her with kisses and tears.

  She was dying, and this was something the king would not accept. Using his magic and strength, he carried her home to the UnSeelie Court. From the fireflies’ brutal portrayal, I watched as three days and three nights passed.

  I watched as Sonia’s wound became infected and her eyesight left her.

  I watched as a father, desperate to save his little girl, ran through the forest.

  Three days and three nights, and they were home. King Aelfric handed his daughter over to the healers and waited.

  And waited.

  And waited … until finally a healer returned, shaking her head.

  I did not know what was said. But I did know how he expressed his grief. With blood and pain.

  In a brilliant flash we were on the mortal plane, at the walls of King Orfeo’s castle. The fury of my dream came back to me as Aelfric killed human guard after human soldier. This was the battle I had watched unfold before me only a night ago.

  The Elf King killed them all, every last soldier, before entering Orfeo’s chambers. The human king was on his knees, begging for forgiveness, and Aelfric did the last thing I expected of him. He granted it.

  King Aelfric did not end Orfeo, but instead looked at the human for a long, long time before leaving the mortal king unharmed.

  That was where the scene ended, the fireflies returning to their pendants, the once radiant room darkened by their departure.

  ↔

  With all that done, Remi sighed. “Now that you have some understanding, I am sure you still have a million questions. We are pleased to answer them all as best we can.”

  Tying Up Loose Ends

  “Why didn’t he kill Orfeo and complete his revenge?”

  “That is a question I have asked myself a thousand times. We all have. I guess he didn’t want to start a war between fae and humans. Or maybe his senses returned to him and the horror of all the death caught up to him. Whatever his reasons were, I suspect we can now ask him,” Remi said.

  “And what is your role in all of this? Let me guess, you’re all from the UnSeelie Court, and more specifically, served King Aelfric,” I said, my gaze scanning each of them.

  They all nodded, evidently no longer wishing to hide anything.

  “And Sarah, or Sonia—”

  “Sonia,” Remi clarified.

  “She is the halfling child in the story. A child who is now all grown up.”

  “Yes,” Remi said.

  “But I thought she died.”

  “She did,” Remi said. “Dead as can be in a world with magic, but she came back. We don’t know why or how, but again, we have our theories,” he said, pointing at the solemn, silent Other called Freol. “We think it is because of him. Make no mistake, we did not expect him to show up yesterday. He was a surprise, to say the least. But then again, it is always a surprise when Ankou appears.”

  “Ankou?” Deirdre said. As the shock of who this black-suited Other was subsided and she got ahold of herself, Deirdre dropped to her knees, signing three intersecting diamonds on her forehead—the fae symbol for worship.

  Whereas Deirdre’s murmuring of the name ‘Ankou’ was filled with awe and respect, my tone was half-confused, half-will someone clue me in? “Ankou? Who is that?”

  “Our grim reaper,” Remi said, sighing. “He only shows up when a great death is about to happened. Except for that one moment when he showed up, and Sonia rose from the dead. It was so unheard of that we all swore never to speak of this until—well, now.” Remi walked over to the fae reaper. “If only you would grace us with a few words so that we may know why you are here.”

  Ankou didn’t answer, his face impassive and unmoving, revealing nothing. This guy should play poker, I thought. As in Texas hold ’em, high stakes, everything-on-the-line kind of poker.

  Remi chuckled. “Can you at least tell me if you are here for me?”

  Nothing. With that, Remi sighed. “He’s here for one of us, maybe all of us. That’s what we thought, but now that King Aelfric is here, I’m wondering if he’s returned to play his back-from-the-dead trick again.”

  “Yeah,” I said, as the gravity of the situation came crushing down on me. A literal let me show you to your death reaper was in the room with us—had been in the room with us—and now a dead king was back and we were snowed in, unable to escape. This situation had the endings of Hamlet, Romeo and Juliet and Othello wrapped in one written all over it.

  I took a deep breath. “So if he’s not Freol, but rather Ankou the friggin’ Reaper … who the hell are the rest of you?”

  “Allow me to properly introduce myself. I am the dreaded Redcap,” Orange said, throwing away the wig in his hand. He seemed happy to be rid of it; he rubbed his hands over his bald head.

  “I would say it’s a pleasure, but I’ve heard all about you,” I said.

  “Mostly exaggerations,” he said. “Mostly.”

  “And Krelis here.”

  “My husband.”

  “As you are mine,” Krelis said, facing Redcap. “Then, now and here.”

  “ ‘Then, now, here,’ ” I repeated. “Let me guess, when Redcap was accused of letting King Orfeo in, you were both driven from your home.”

  “Yes,” Redcap said. “I had a choice: stay and die, or flee and live.”

  “And you, Krelis? What choice were you given?”

  “I fear I am not much for anything other than drinking and—”

  “And singing and dancing and making all things right in the world. At least in my world.”

  If I didn’t know this before, I knew it then: trows can blush and goblins can be romantic. I swooned in jealousy over the obvious love they had for one another.

  Krelis cleared his throat. “I stayed behind, telling everyone who came to our home looking for him that the dreaded Redcap had killed himself in shame.”

  “And I went into hiding for a thousand years, only now daring to show myself,” Redcap said.

  I got it. The gods may have been gone, and the amnesty program may have been in place, but it didn’t change that many members of the UnSeelie Court wanted revenge for the death of their king. Amnesty was about forgiving the sins of the past, not forgetting them. Besides it was a government program—a human government program—and most Others didn’t really go for the whole mortal law thing. “And you, Jack-in-Chains. You wear your Gleipnir chain as penance for failing to save Heurodis.”

  Remi walked over to Jack-in-Chains and made a gesture that left the giant smiling. “My brother here, he did everything in his power to protect Heurodis, but King Orfeo possessed a great magic that would have overpowered Oberon himself. Her death was not his fault … not that he would ever admit as much.”

  Remi hopped onto the ta
ble and, now only slightly taller than his giant brother, gave Jack a solemn, healing kiss on the forehead.

  “And despite losing his wife, King Aelfric did not attack the human world. Not then, at least.”

  “He knew a war between fae and humans would not end well,” the ly erg said.

  “And who are you?” I asked Remi.

  The soldier snapped his feet together and gave me a human salute. “I am Remi LaChance now, but I was Rem-ii Ly Erg, captain of King Aelfric’s guard.”

  “And the abatwas—Snap, Crackle and Pop?”

  “You saw them in the fireflies’ dance. For all practical purposes, they were Sonia’s mother, father and fun uncle rolled into one. The night of the attack—the night she died—was their worst nightmare come true. And even despite Sonia’s resurrection, they have a score to settle.”

  Remi’s words were accented with several high-pitched squeals as the abatwas raised their fists in exaggerated anger.

  I guess when you’re that small, you need to exaggerate everything just to be heard.

  “And this big guy,” I said, pointing at Tiny the barguest. “I mean, it’s strange that Sonia would make a pet of the very creature that killed her.”

  “Tiny here,” Remi said, petting the demonic dog, “was a gift from me so that Sonia could—what is the human expression for this?—get back on the horse again?”

  “With a murderous dog?”

  At this, Tiny growled.

  “Sorry, but you saw the fireflies’ dance.”

  Tiny groaned in resignation.

  “First of all,” Remi said, “barguests are unfailingly loyal to their master, even if their master is one as vile as Archimago. This barguest—this animal dubbed ‘Tiny’—belongs to Sonia, and could no more hurt her than any of us in this room. She needed to understand that if she was to get past the great evil that was visited upon her.”