Heather had been my high school crush, and the most talented alchemist I knew. And then, during my exile, she’d fallen in with my grandfather and his Arcanites. Granted, she’d done so to try and protect her son, who’d become Grandfather’s new favored protégé, but the result had been the creation of a mana drug that the Arcanites used to enslave brightbloods to their will.
The last time I’d seen Heather, she’d announced her decision to become a brightblood as a means to avoid exile by the ARC and gain a chance at atonement, a chance to undo the damage she’d caused by curing the addictions caused by her alchemical creation.
That decision seemed to have done her some good. Gone were the pale too-gaunt features, haunted eyes, and aura of desperation. She looked tan and healthy, had put on weight, and her straw-blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail that didn’t so much hang as explode out of its tie.
She was in the middle of a history class, apparently. “Can anyone tell me why the Feyblood Urban Resident Reduction program was enacted in the eighties? This is something that may have affected some of you, or your parents.”
A young will-o’-the-wisp raised her hand, and Heather nodded at her. She stood, shimmering in the dim lighting, and said, “Because the mundy president put a lot of people out of their jobs and homes, and everyone was paying attention to all the new homeless people, and so the ARC was afraid the brightbloods wouldn’t be able to hide so easy in the cities, and, uh—yeah.” She sat down.
“True,” I called out. “But puckish Robin, sir Billy, and Whoopi the Seer didst form a merry band to battle Prince Ron and his evil Sheriff of Trickeldown.”
Heather looked over at the interruption, her initial annoyed expression replaced by a wide smile as I spoke.
“Finn! Sammy!” She walked past her brightblood students. “Holy Hades, it’s good to see you guys! You too, Dawn!”
“Hey Heather,” Sammy said, her tone more reserved than friendly. She raised her phone in the air, frowning at the screen.
I smiled at Heather. “You’re looking good,” I said, before realizing how that might sound. I shot a glance over at Dawn, but she seemed unfazed.
Heather harrumphed. “I’ve gained like twenty pounds! Granted, some of that was needed, but I didn’t really think about the whole ‘instinct to store fat for winter’ thing when I let Garl bite me.”
Dawn snorted. “Funny how they never covered that in sex ed, eh?”
“Hell,” Sammy muttered as she turned in a slow circle, tapping at her phone, “I wish they would cover biting etiquette. I’d love to see how bad the parents freak out.”
Heather glanced at the students, who were very clearly interested in the conversation, and said in a quieter tone, “Oh, believe me, crazy parents are one thing I do not miss about being a mundy school-teacher.”
Dawn smiled. “You do look good though, Heather. A hell of a lot better than the last time I saw you.”
Heather smiled back. “Thanks! You too. I think I’ve found the weight you lost. So what brings you fine folks out to Casa de Silver?”
My smile faded. “It seems the Arcanites are after us again.”
Heather’s face paled slightly. “Shit. Of course. They’re like sharks, they can probably smell the blood in the water.”
“You mean the Fey war that Sal was telling us about?”
Heather looked up at Sal. “Yeah. If the Fey are going to be killing each other, the Arcanites are going to want to help them along.”
“This is all interesting,” Sammy said in a tone of frustration, finally giving up on her phone. “But they took my girlfriend, and all I really want is to get her back. I don’t suppose you have Internet?”
Heather shook her head. “We go down and use the Wi-Fi at the RV camp if we need it for any reason, but things are pretty primitive here. Relatively speaking.”
The front doors slammed back open, and a dwarf entered. An elemental brightblood of rock and earth, the dwarf had a head, chest, and arms of granite mixed with colorful stones, which traveled on top of a moving mound of earth and gravel. The glimmer of life in the dwarf’s obsidian eyes focused on me.
“You!” the dwarf boomed in a gravelly, female voice. “What happen to Dunngo?”
Oh, shazbasalt.
8
THE UNFORGIVEN
“Borghild,” Sal growled in a warning tone, stepping between me and the dwarf. “Finn-mage is a friend. Heself fight to save Silene and I, and try to save your brother. Iself was there. Show respect.”
Oh gods. Dunngo’s sister?
Borghild slammed a fist onto the floor, causing the floorboards to jump. “Then why Borghild no allowed rituals for Dunngo? Something not right!”
“I—I’m sorry,” I said, looking around Sal. “His body washed into the river. There was nothing I could do.”
“No trust Gramaraye mage-men!” Borghild said. “If this one lies, Borghild will crush all Gramaraye!”
She rolled back out through the swinging doors, leaving a faint cloud of dust behind.
*That went well,* Alynon said.
An awkward silence had fallen on the room. Finally, Sal grunted. “Weself should go speak to Silene.”
“If you really are cool with it,” I said to Sal, second-guessing my decision to come here. “Not sure how much longer our spirit masking will hide us from the ARC, and the last thing I want is to bring a bunch of enforcers down on you guys.”
“Not a problem,” Heather said. “The basement is shielded from arcana tracking spells. If they’re after you, then you should probably be down there anyway.”
Sal didn’t look happy that Heather had shared that fact, but he gave a grunt of agreement. “Iself … cool. Come.”
Heather wished us luck, and returned to her students. Sal led us through a door in the back of the room to a hallway, and then into another room that look disused. The fading daylight glimmered through boarded-up windows, and light from the hall illumined a dusty table, broken chair, and empty bookshelves. Sal crossed to the middle bookshelf, and pulled on it. It swung out, revealing a doorway and descending staircase.
“Nice,” I said.
“Yeah,” Sammy muttered softly, “going into basements of abandoned sanitariums seeking supernatural creatures never ends badly.”
Sal hunched over almost double to fit through the doorway, and eased down the stairs. “One at a time,” he called back. As I took my turn, I understood why—the steps were smooth, seamless stone, easy to slip and tumble down. I reached the bottom safely and realized that this basement had not so much been built as carved out beneath the building, an addition created by the brightbloods themselves. When you had earth elementals like dwarves, I guess you didn’t really need a hardware store or backhoe for some things.
The “basement” itself appeared to be a cavernous donut shape with the stairs in the center, and stone support columns spaced throughout. It looked like the Fortress of Solitude as designed by Batman, the walls a geometric puzzle of ebon and deep purple crystal. Black tourmaline, I guessed, good natural shielding against magical energies. Lanterns hung from the columns, burning bright yellow without any smoke that I could see, filling the space with a warm glow and causing the crystals to sparkle.
There were a few cots along the walls, as well as shelves stocked with supplies, and weapons—crossbows and bolts, spears, and swords. Brightbloods, even those considered “allies” to the arcana, were strictly forbidden the use of firearms or explosives. Still, the sight of all that deathiness made me uneasy.
But the uneasiness lifted as I heard my brother Pete say from somewhere beyond the curve to our left, “I don’t think that’s why the Fey made me and Vee Vice-Archons. The Archon made it very clear we weren’t supposed to actually do anything.”
A woman’s voice responded, and I recognized Silene, the steading’s leader. “You must take a more active role. We cannot rely on our Archon, that is clear.”
A second woman’s voice followed, softer but with a hint of fir
mness beneath: Vee, Pete’s fiancée. “You don’t understand. Just last week, Pete snapped at a young woman who didn’t bring sausage with his waffles. She knew him, you see, and thought he was still vegetarian. Pete apologized, but he was up tossing and turning the entire night after, and the next morning took her a big box of chocolates. That’s how much he hates confrontation. And I’m little better.”
As Sammy and Dawn joined me at the bottom of the stairs, Sal led us in the direction of the voices.
“I know you did not ask for this burden,” Silene said. “But I believe the Aal has brought you to us in this time of need for a reason.”
Pete said sadly, “Maybe the Archon just thinks nobody likes him.”
“Nobody does,” Silene said. “And for good reason.”
“But maybe he started acting that way because he thought nobody liked him, and now nobody likes him because of the way he acts, and—can’t we just invite him to sleep over here, get to know us? Maybe he’d like us if he got to know us. We could play Trivial Pursuit. He’s a sphinx, I bet he’d like that. And I could make him waffles.”
As we rounded the circular center, a table came into view with Pete, Vee, and Silene sitting around it.
Pete rose as he spotted us, a goofy grin spreading across my brother’s round baby face. He stood head and shoulders taller than me, with the kind of naturally massive body that had made our high school football coach literally cry when Pete said he couldn’t join the team because he didn’t want to hurt people. Even with the changes the waerwolf curse had brought onto Pete, he continued to be the gentlest, sweetest dude I knew.
Vee rose beside him, standing nearly as tall. While I wasn’t sure what the term “built like a ship” meant (and suspected it wasn’t flattering regardless), she did look like she could have probably built, rowed, and even single-handedly destroyed ships alongside her Viking ancestors. Which again, like Pete, completely belied her gentle nature, a nature well-matched by her waersquirrel spirit. Well, gentle until you got her pissed off. In that and in most other ways, she and Pete were as perfect a match as could be.
“Finn!” Pete said. “What are you doing here?”
Silene rose last, with the grace as natural to her dryad nature as her green-streaked brown hair. She stepped around the table, her sinuous movement causing her green dress of leaves, grass, and cedar fronds to shimmer, and highlighting a pale silver scar that drew a line from her left shoulder down under her dress. “Indeed,” she said, “and in our most secret chamber.” Her tone made clear the unspoken question she aimed at Sal as her gaze shifted to him.
Sal blushed red. “Heather-bright told them where to find youself,” he said.
I raised my hands. “I would never betray your trust, especially not when we are practically family.” I nodded at Pete and Vee.
“And a caterpillar cannot fly,” Silene replied. “But what is done is done. Come, and welcome. And Dawn, the woman who braided my hair and shared words of encouragement. You are welcome as well.”
“Hiya, Silene,” Dawn replied. “Still fighting the system?”
“I am fighting many things, unfortunately. It is good to see you, though again surprising that a mundane should be here.”
“She’s my girlfriend,” I said.
“She is far more than her relationship to you,” Silene said reproachfully. “Including a bard, if I remember correctly, and we are in sore need of inspiration and hope. I would love to hear you play, Dawn, and to learn more of you.” She looked at Sammy. “And this one who looks like she wishes to weep?”
I looked over at Sammy, whose eyes were indeed red and teary. “This is my sister, Sammy—Samantha Gramaraye.”
Sammy sneezed, a sneeze that echoed off of the walls and caused metal to hum in response.
Silene cocked her head slightly. “The name Gramaraye has earned both curse and praise among my kin,” she said. “But Samantha … are you she who fought against the unicorn Bishop Freedom?”
“Yes,” Sammy said. I raised my eyebrows at her, and she said, “It was years ago.”
“You defend women against both brightbloods and your own ARC,” Silene added.
Sammy shrugged. “It’s not their fault if they fall victim to the power of a unicorn or satyr. They don’t deserve to have their memories wiped and their lives ruined.”
Silene nodded. “You are one from whom I found inspiration. I am honored to meet you at last.”
Sammy blinked, and wiped at her nose with the back of her hand. “I—thanks.” She moved away from Sal. “You guys don’t happen to have any kind of ionizing air filters around, do you? And maybe a bucket’s worth of rose quartz?”
“The stone yes, perhaps, but I do not know what a lionizing air filter might be?” Silene replied. “Is this why you have come?” She looked at me.
“No,” I said. “Sammy’s allergic to magic, and I think she was just hoping to capture the free Mu particles in the air.”
Sammy nodded, stepping even further from Sal. “If we’re going to be down here for long, I’m going to have to dope up on Claritin, and that crap always makes me zonko.”
“You’re going to stay here?” Pete asked, excitement in his voice.
“That’s up to Silene,” I replied.
“What danger are you in?” Silene asked. “You would not seek to stay here without reason.”
“True,” I said, “but I think our danger and yours might be the same.”
“What danger is that?” Silene asked.
“Sal told me that the Forest of Shadows are still making war noises. And it seems the Arcanites, the lovely folks behind the drug that you’ve been fighting against, are making some big move against the Fey as well. And they might be working together. Or at least, some group of Fey is working with the Arcanites, and perhaps manipulating the Forest of Shadows still.”
Silene seemed to wilt a bit at the news, but then she took a deep breath, and stood straight again. “What is their plan?”
“To poison the Other Realm,” I replied. “But we need time to figure out how, exactly, and why they are framing arcana for crimes.”
“We need time and a decent cell signal, at the least,” Sammy added.
A faun appeared from the direction of the stairs, and said, “Silene, a gnome brings a message for you, and says it is urgent.”
“Very well,” Silene said, “I shall be right there.” She sighed. “Stay, visit with your kin, and we shall speak when I return.”
She left with the faun, and as I turned back Pete nearly tackled me with a bear hug.
“I’m happy to see you,” Pete said.
“Thanks, brother,” I said with what little breath in my lungs he hadn’t already squeezed out. But after my fight with Mort, the hug made me want to cry, and I was in no rush to escape it.
He released me, my heels falling back to the stone floor, and I smiled up at him. “It’s good to see you, too, but it’s not like we didn’t see each other, what, the day before yesterday?”
“Yes, but that was only for a minute, you were going to that bonding ceremony.”
“Ah, yeah …” One of the first persons I’d helped find true love after helping Sal was a gentleman in the Department of Arcane Accounting, whom I’d connected with a local poet-sorceress burning through her trust fund. The two had enjoyed a whirlwind romance culminating in a bonding ceremony I felt obligated and honored to attend.
Pete continued, “And you’ve been so busy that I don’t hardly get to see you, and—” he looked around as if someone might be listening, and then said in that loud whisper of his that could be heard just as easily as his normal voice, “They keep asking me to do things as Vice-Archon and I feel bad but I don’t know what to do and … I just want to go home and things to be like they used to be.” His eyes brimmed with tears.
“Ah Petey, I’m sorry, man. I didn’t realize—tell you what, as soon as we figure out this current mess, it’s going to be family time for me, one hundred percent. I won’t leave
your side.”
“Well,” Vee said, “that might get awkward. Pete’s bed isn’t that large to begin with—”
“Yeah,” Dawn said. “Not that I don’t dig a little variety and all, but that’s not quite my thing.”
“Ha ha,” I replied, blushing slightly. “I just meant Pete is more important to me than most anything.”
“Sarah says your heart is in the right place,” Vee said, looking at the empty space beside her where she either saw or imagined her squirrel spirit, Sarah. “But I don’t think there’s much you can do. You cannot undo our waer … gifts.”
“No, but I’m the one who got you named Vice-Archons. The Silver Court said they wouldn’t expect anything from you in return for the titles. If they’re asking you to do things for them now—”
“They’re not,” Vee said. “Not the Fey, anyway. But that doesn’t make it any easier to ignore what’s going on.”
“What’s going on?” I asked.
Dawn laughed, and said in a singsong voice, “Twenty-five years and your life is still … trying to get up that great big hill.” She grinned. “I never thought about it, but that’s kind of your song, honey.”
“What?” I asked, confused.
“Family sing-along time is great and all,” Sammy said in an irritated tone, “but it isn’t getting me any closer to helping Fatima.”
Dawn raised one pierced eyebrow, but then said, “Sorry, Sam, I wasn’t thinking. I guess Finn’s rubbing off on me.”
“Hey!” I said.
Dawn ignored me, and continued, “What were you going to say, Petey?”
Pete had hunched in on himself as Dawn and Sammy spoke, and looked miserable now as he said, “The Silver Archon won’t confront the Shadows Archon about what they’ve been doing, and won’t help Silene defend our steading, ’cause he doesn’t want to look like he’s provoking the Shadows. So Silene and the others, they’re hoping we can do something, me and Vee.”
“And that’s only made things worse,” Vee said. “The Archon must have heard rumors about the brightbloods coming to us for help, because he’s begun to spread rumors about us, calling us ex-arcana who’re just pretending at being brightbloods, willing to do whatever is easiest.”
Smells Like Finn Spirit Page 8
