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

by Ramy Vance

  “And that’s why Oighrig End had so many uneven, inconsistent wounds. He wasn’t killed by one or two people … he was killed by all of you.”

  “Aye,” said a voice behind me.

  Everyone in the room except Ankou bent the knee. I guess when you’re the reaper, your bony butt bends for no one. Their heads dropped low as Sonia walked into the room, still holding King Aelfric’s hands.

  Not being fae, I didn’t know where I stood on the Respect the King edict, so I just stood there trying not to draw any attention to myself.

  “Aye,” she repeated, “we all played our roles and took part in ending that murderous bastard. We did so because we wished to share the pleasure of revenge and the guilt of murder. And behold what it has given us: our king, my father.”

  Sonia held the dark elf’s hand tighter as he guided her into the center of the room. There, he let go of her hand and said, “It is so good to see you all again. Especially you, my friend.” He walked over to Jack-in-Chains. The giant lowered his head farther as his king drew closer.

  The dark elf placed a gentle hand beneath the giant’s chin and gently lifted his head. “Come,” King Aelfric said, “let me look at you.”

  Jack’s eyes welled with joy for the returned king, and shame for his failure of seven hundred years ago.

  King Aelfric set his hands on Jack’s neck and unclasped the Gleipnir chain. “You’ve worn this long enough, my friend,” the dark elf said, letting go of the chain and locket. The punishing necklace hit the kitchen’s linoleum floor with a thud so heavy I was sure he’d just wiped out their entire damage deposit.

  Then the Elf King scanned the whole room. “Rise, all of you. Rise.”

  Ly erg, trow, giant, goblin and abatwas three all rose to their feet and stood before a king who had died centuries ago.

  I’m Not Good at Being Good

  “That was nice,” I said, immediately regretting the words as they left my lips. The truth was, it was nice. More than nice, it was beautiful, and my callous comment would probably be considered sarcastic and rude.

  But then I remembered I was in a room full of fae. They’re a literal bunch, so they all nodded in agreement. All but Sonia, whose human half seemed to register my comment as not quite rude enough to comment on.

  “So,” I said, silently phewing with relief, “what now?”

  “Now we wait for the storm to pass so we can leave,” Remi said.

  I shook my head. “Not going to happen.”

  King Aelfric looked in my direction, acknowledging me for the first time since entering the room. “First,” he said, “I must apologize for my attack. Returning from the dead is … confusing.”

  Tell me about it, I thought (in my head).

  “And I agree with you: it will not be easy to leave this place. But I suspect our reasons are very different.” He gestured for me to speak my mind with a regal wave of his hand.

  “Fine,” I said. “Because they”—I waved my hands at the motley crew of UnSeelie fae—“killed someone.”

  “A murderer, a vile human being who—” Sonia started.

  “Exactly,” I interrupted, “a human being. But even if he wasn’t—even if he was the Devil himself—the rules are different now. You can’t just kill someone, as deserving as they may be, and go on with your life.”

  The irony of my words weren’t lost on me. I had killed and gotten away with it, and not just as a vampire. Since I had become human, two humans had died because of me. Granted, one of them was an asshole who was trying to mass-sacrifice students in a vain attempt to get the gods back, and the other one was a maniac who drowned himself in a puddle before I could save him, but they died because of me.

  I rubbed my temples as if doing so could turn my hypocrisy switch off. “They’re going to catch you.”

  “We have planned for that,” Remi said. “This snow has done much to confuse our efforts. Still, it will have to end, and when it does we will dispose of the body where no one will ever find it.”

  He slapped his hands together three times as if punctuating his words with a That’s that.

  “And what about me?”

  “Even after all you’ve seen—the injustices we’ve righted, the evil we have removed from this world—you would still turn us over to the authorities?” Redcap said.

  “What injustices are you talking about? What happened in the Seelie and UnSeelie Courts was then. Now, in the GoneGod World, all you’ve done is kill a human professor,” I said, considering the last piece of the puzzle. “I don’t care if, once upon a time, he was a human sorcerer. I don’t care that he’s Archimago in the flesh. You killed him.”

  There was a stunned silence at the name Archimago. “Very good, young lady. I see a bright career for you in law enforcement,” Remi said, “Tell me, how did you discover Oighrig End’s true identity?”

  “It was mostly the questions you asked Professor End during the lecture, but also his name. ‘Archimago’ is Latin for ‘the first and the last,’ and Oighrig is Scottish Gaelic for ‘new one,’ so Oighrig End translates into New One, End … beginning and end. First and last.”

  “So if you know who he is and what he’s done, why would you tell the authorities?” Remi asked.

  “I don’t know,” I said honestly. “I just know I’m trying to play by human rules now, and what you did was wrong.”

  “And what would you have us do? Let Oighrig End continue earning accolades and money, honor and respect? After all he’s done?”

  “You could have turned him in yourself—”

  “You talk about the new rules of the GoneGod World like you don’t live here,” Sonia said. “Do you honestly believe human justice cares about ancient crimes committed against fae? Humans barely acknowledge us except when pushing us to the fringes of their world, or when punishing us.”

  “You’re right,” I said. “Others are second-class citizens, and it would be unlikely for the police to have done anything against Oighrig End. Especially given the amnesty program , but that’s the whole point of the program: to forgive, to move on. If every Other with a legitimate gripe against another Other or human acted out, this world would never find the peace it deserves.”

  “And what good would punishing us accomplish?” Krelis asked, pulling Redcap close. I could only guess he was living his personal nightmare of losing him again.

  “I don’t know,” I said, wishing to the damn GoneGods I wasn’t the one playing ethical moderator. I’m the last person who should play judge, but I was playing the role because no one else there would. “Because your punishment would send a message that revenge is not OK. Not anymore. Because jailing you would reverberate throughout the Other communities, and if seeing you in chains stops one or two Others from taking justice into their own hands, then that might be worth it.”

  “He deserved to die,” Redcap said.

  “Maybe. But how many UnSeelie Court members think the ranks of the Seelie Court deserve death, too? And that’s both ways … fae memory is long. How many Seelie Court elves or pixies would happily end the vile lives of goblins, trows and dark elves because of something that happened centuries ago?”

  Sonia growled, and for a moment I thought she was going to order my execution. After all, if I died, so did this little moral dilemma. Yay me for standing up for what I believe in in a room of murderers. I’d probably get the Heavenly version of the Girl Scout badge for Death by Righteousness. That was, if Heaven still existed.

  But Sonia didn’t order my death. Instead she shook her head in frustration and reached for her father’s hand. “Do as you must. His death is a crime we would all commit again and again, but know this: you may very well never get a chance to hand us over to the authorities.”

  I guess ordering my death is back on the table, I thought, and from the way Deirdre came to my side, I guessed it was out loud.

  Sonia gave me a disgusted look, as if I had suggested something vile. “No, we would never order the death of an innocent. No
matter what stupidity she proposes,” she spat out.

  Go stupidity, I thought (this time in my head).

  King Aelfric nodded in agreement. “You are safe amongst us. Perhaps you are not a friend, but you are also not an enemy. It is this storm that is our true enemy. I have looked into its heart and know that it is impenetrable. I believe it to be the work of magic, but it does not spring forth from the well of fae magic. Nor is it something Archimago, as powerful as he once was, could create. I fear other forces are at play here, magics beyond what we are capable of.”

  “No, no, no!” Sonia said in frustration. “Your return is my wildest dream come true. But it is also my nightmare, for we are not safe here. My father is not safe here, and if I were to lose him again—”

  “It would literally be the worst thing that could happen to you.”

  She nodded.

  “To any of you,” I added.

  More nods.

  I turned to the fae reaper. “Ankou, did you bring him back from the dead?”

  The reaper said nothing, and only stared ahead impassively.

  “I already told you, young lady: Ankou brought back our king. He must have. Just as he did Sonia all those years ago.”

  “Exactly. Just like you said: ‘all those years ago,’ ” I said, keeping my gaze on Ankou. I was looking for a gesture, a facial tic, anything to see if I was right. “Before the gods left he had unlimited power. But he’s mortal now, just like you and me.” I turned to King Aelfric. “Centuries might have passed since you two last met, but because of your resurrection, it must feel like you saw him only hours ago.”

  “You speak the truth,” King Aelfric said.

  “Tell me, do you see any signs of aging on him? Wrinkles, blemishes, a mole, liver spot … anything?”

  “I don’t know what you—” King Aelfric started.

  “Please, indulge me. Do you see any signs of aging on him at all?”

  The dark elf pushed aside his confusion to answer my question. Drawing in close, he examined Ankou closely. The reaper didn’t move as Aelfric scoured his face for any signs of aging. After several seconds, the Elf King shook his head. “No. He is as he was that night at the moor.”

  “Shit,” I said. “I know what’s happening.” And as if the evil that imprisoned us heard my words (she probably did), an explosion thundered through the kitchen with such incredible force that it literally shook the very ground on which we stood.

  End of Part 3

  Part IV

  Prologue:

  Nightmares cannot touch those with nothing to lose. Of course there is always pain, but pain is so boring. There is only so much pleasure one can gain from incessant screaming and wailing.

  It is from true suffering my pleasure sprouts. True suffering induced by pure nightmares.

  Wealth lost, power diminished, good health gone to seed. A lover sick, a soulmate dying, a child missing, attachments severed. This is the realm of true nightmares.

  But these fae are so detached. Their home gone, their spirits broken. They barely hold on to each other. Not one of them has something they hold truly precious. What’s more, each would gladly forfeit their lives for something as trivial as revenge.

  How can I torment those with nothing to lose? What can I take from those with nothing?

  The answer is simple: give them something precious to feel the sting of its loss. Return something they love, only to take it away again.

  To lose a precious thing once is pain. But to lose it twice … that is death. And death is something I love.

  I have searched their hearts, felt their very essences. They all lost their king, their friend, a man whom they all truly loved, and when they lost him, they also lost themselves.

  Let me make them complete. Let me fill them with his presence. Let me make them whole again …

  And once they are whole again, well, then I will break them.

  Kings, Day-Dreams and Nightmares All Rolled into One

  Thunder echoed through the room, metal pots and pans rattling in its wake.

  “What the hell is that noise?” Sonia asked, clasping her ears.

  Every one of us was rattled. I’d fallen to my butt. Even on the ground, I struggled to find any sense of balance, the floor tossing me around like the uncoordinated kid in a bouncy castle.

  The fae, as graceful as they were, didn’t fare much better. Jack stomped his massive feet as he tried to find his balance, and each time he brought a foot down he left cracks in the ground. Redcap and Krelis held on to one another, trying to use the other to still themselves, but all they managed to do was engage in an unfortunate game of see-saw.

  Deirdre had chosen my tact: fall on your butt, use your arms as a tripod and try not to roll around. She’s not faring much better than me, I thought, as she was flung from one side of the room to the other.

  Remi managed it slightly better than the rest. Well, “better” might be a stretch. He took large, exaggerated steps back and forth like a backup dancer in West Side Story. At least he hadn’t fallen, and he wasn’t destroying the ground to stay on his feet.

  The abatwas had all fallen off their counters. Even thought it was less than four feet to the ground, for those little guys it must have been like falling off Everest. I was sure they were goners, but they weren’t. They shook it off and, helping the one-legged Pop to his feet, scurried under a table where they would be safe from falling pots and pans, or the accidental stomp of one of the larger fae trying to regain their footing.

  Even Ankou fell on his butt, but unlike Deirdre and me, he somehow managed to stay relatively still.

  Only King Aelfric seemed unaffected by the quake, his feet slightly apart as he helped Sonia stay upright. “Steady,” he said. “Feel the movement of the earth. Let the vibrations run through you. Find its rhythm and stand.” He let go of his daughter, and Sonia wobbled at first before finally standing up straight.

  King Aelfric turned to the rest of us and whispered, “Stand.” Even though the word was soft, almost inaudible under the clamoring and clacking of the room, we all heard it and obeyed.

  It wasn’t a spell. He burned no time, and yet he still inspired us to our feet. Within seconds we were standing on a floor that danced beneath us, and not one of us lost our balance.

  We had conquered the quake, and the moment the last of us stood erect, the earth stopped shaking.

  Just as I knew it would.

  “It’s Ester,” I said as the world stilled. “She’s coming for us. And as strong as you guys might be, she’s stronger.”

  “Ester?” Deirdre asked. “Who’s Ester?”

  “A better question is, ‘What’s Ester?’ She’s a dybbuk demon. She’s the stuff nightmares are made of. Literally.”

  ↔

  I thought through the sequence of events that had happened. King Aelfric’s return, the attack in the boiler room, the stranger with the hockey stick. Being roofied and somehow dragged back into the kitchen … now that I knew the demon bitch behind it all, things were falling into place.

  The guy who hit Aelfric with a hockey stick was Justin ... had to be. Seems that, despite my hopes, he had been possessed by Ester that afternoon in the museum a few weeks back. But the thing about demon possessions—they get you, but they don’t get all of you. When Justin saved me, it was because the part of him that was still him came out. That, or Ester didn’t want to spoil all the fun and kill me too soon. Either way, Justin saved me.

  But I couldn’t run from the truth. He might have saved me, but neither of us would be in this situation if it wasn’t for me exposing him to one of the most evil creatures in creation.

  Shit, I thought, I knew I shouldn’t have taken him there. I knew he was too green, and now he’s being tormented by a spirit that literally requires an exorcism to get out.

  And given that exorcisms require gods—and those were in short supply—he was fucked. We were fucked, too, because Ester was using his body to carry her evil toward us.

&nbs
p; But that was one problem I’d have to deal with later. Now I needed to get my thoughts straight and that meant understanding what happened. The roofied event, with us all being knocked out … that had to be Ester. She must have seen that her hold on Justin wasn’t complete, and not wanting to spoil her fun, decided to knock us out while she tightened her grip on my boyfriend’s soul.

  As for us all winding up back in the kitchen. The only guy strong enough to do that was King Aelfric. As a trained warrior, he understood that our best chance at survival was unity. Strength in numbers and all that … so, when the shock of resurrection passed, he must have realized that Jack and I were on the same side, and dragged us back to the kitchen.

  That was my theory, at least. Who knows with a psychotic demon like Ester. For all I know, Justin was fully possessed when he saved me from Aelfric, and it was the dark elf’s spell that knocked us all out …

  Many fae eyes trained on me as they all waited for to tell them what I knew. “I don’t have much time to explain,” I said, bolting the kitchen door shut. I gestured for Jack-in-Chains to move one of the massive, industrial fridges, which he did as if moving an empty cardboard box. “She’s going to attack again, and soon. She’s a nightmare spirit, which means she’s probably scanning our hearts, trying to figure out the best way to hurt us.”

  “How do you know this, young lady?” Remi asked.

  “I just know,” I said as I grabbed a kitchen knife—you know, just in case. There’s always a just in case.

  “No, young lady. I need more.”

  “She knows,” King Aelfric said, “because the demon and this vampire once hunted together. Is that not true?”

  I nodded. No sense in hiding it now, since I doubted we’d survive the night. I had been Ester’s partner, but that was a long time ago when we haunted a house together and I was a soulless vampire interested in dinner theatre.