by Amy Sumida
“Come in, Killian,” I waved him over to the table. “It's fine.”
“Are you fine?” Killian tromped over and sat down. “You look a little... shaken.”
“Yeah, I'm okay,” I took a seat beside him.
Killian looked massive, sitting in the delicate chair, his legs spread out to brace himself. Big, black, combat boots were on his feet, and the hood was pushed back on his leather jacket, the gathered folds adding to his bulk. His hair, which was actually quite dark, looked bright against all the black he wore. And his skin looked paler than it was, like bone instead of buckskin. It was as if the Grim Reaper had sat down at my dining table and pulled back his hood.
Who knew the Grim Reaper was hot?
And why the hell was I back to thinking about this guy in that sort of way? I'd just possibly broken up with my boyfriend, then I went and made out with Raza, and now I was checking out the super witch? This whole zombie-dad thing was really getting to me. I had to watch out or I'd be dragging innocent witches down with me. And not in the way Killian wanted me to drag him down either.
The coffee machine beeped and I busied myself with pouring. “Can someone order us some breakfast?” I asked my Guard.
“Yeah, I'll have an egg mcmuffin,” Killian leaned back in his chair and smiled.
“Shut up, Skeletor,” I growled as I shoved a cup of coffee in front of him.
“I'll call the cooks,” Sir Ennis offered.
“Thank you, Ennis,” I nodded.
“I heard your dragon flew the coop,” Killian said conversationally.
“You just can't be subtle, can you?” Gradh shook her head at Killian as she joined us at the table. “You woo a woman like a cave man, hitting her over the head with your affections.”
“Oh ho!” Conri hooted. “Praise to Danu, Gradh has a new man to torment. Stick around, witch. You may be useful after all.”
“Well now that I have your approval,” Killian rolled his eyes.
“Raza had to go back to Unseelie and take care of his kingdom,” I stared down Killian. “He left his son in charge and was concerned for him.”
“Raza has a son?” Killian lifted his brows. “So if you married him, you'd be a stepmom.”
I blinked rapidly. I hadn't thought of that. Stepmother to Raye. How strange. He'd actually kind of flirted with me once. To be his stepmom would be... well hilarious actually.
“Was the boy hatched?” Killian smirked.
My face fell into harsh lines and I set furious eyes on Killian. That had been a step too far.
“Get out,” I said in a low, menacing tone.
“What?” Killian gaped at me.
“You don't know Rayetayah,” I leaned forward to growl at Killian. “And you certainly have no reason to make such a nasty comment about him. I don't let anyone talk shit about people I care about. Now get the fuck out.”
“Subtlety,” Gradh shook her head at Killian. “You should try it sometime.”
“Look, Twilight,” Killian sighed and leaned forward so that we were mere inches from each other. “I'm sorry I said that. Don't kick me out of your room. I'm just jealous of the dragon. The thought that you could have an insta-family with him upped the ante. I spoke without thinking. It's a personal failing, you may have noticed it before.”
“I take it back,” Gradh said with wide eyes. “Go with the brutish honesty. It's kind of charming.”
“I don't have time for jealousies or dragons,” I felt my jaw clench. “If you're going to stay, Blair, I need you to get on board with the important issues; saving who we can, putting the others to rest, and then killing my kin.”
“I'm on board, Twilight,” Killian's look hardened. “They took my mother, remember? I'd like to say I'm here only for you, but I'm not. I'm also here to get some revenge and make sure those crazy, evil fucks don't hurt my people ever again.”
A glance around the room showed me the approving nods of my Guard. And I felt the same. This was the Killian Blair I needed. At least for now.
“Well said, super witch,” I grinned. “Welcome back on the vengeance train.”
“Hell, Twilight,” Killian smirked, “I never got off.”
“You're damn straight you never got off,” Conri snickered, and then leaned towards Gradh to explain. “'Get off' can also mean-”
“I know what it means,” she snapped at him.
“And one more thing,” Killian ignored them both, though his lips twitched.
“Yeah?”
“Did you just call me 'super witch'?” Killian put his fists to his hips, “Can I get a cape?”
Chapter Thirty-Two
It was a week before we had any news on Uisdean and Rue. And even though it was obvious they were behind the events, the news itself wasn't directly about them. And it was news. As in a human news report.
“You're not going to fucking believe this, Twilight,” Killian made one of his usual dramatic entrances.
I was getting used to them actually. If he had just walked in and said “Hi”, I think I would have fainted.
“What now?” I got up from the card game I was playing with my Guard.
Yeah cards. When you watch an action flick, they never show you the boring part of chasing villains. The part where the hero sits around and has a pizza or plays Twister with his friends. But let me assure you, it happens. Heroes have to eat too. We also have to entertain ourselves. We're not going to sit around, sharpening our swords all day long. And yes, I realize I just called myself a hero. You'll have to forgive me on that one. It was how I was raised. In fact, I think the only thing that keeps a lot of extinguishers going is the belief that they're heroes. You have to have some kind of glory when you do the dirty work, even if the glory is confined to your own head.
“There's an unsettling news story you need to see, Ambassador,” Daniel Claybourn came into the room behind Killian. “We've already shown the high council members and the coven elders. No doubt, they'll be calling us into a meeting soon. But we wanted to prepare you.”
“Check it out,” Killian put a laptop down on the dining table, and then swung it around so the screen faced me. He hit a button and the frozen image came to life.
I frowned as I took a seat in front of the computer, my Guard gathering behind me. The reporter was a woman with dark hair and the lush features of a Latina. She was trying for cool and professional, but you could tell she was shaken. I caught a glimpse of something that looked like the remnants of a bonfire behind her.
“The town of Salem, Massachusetts has long been known for its bloody history in connection with the supernatural,” the reporter began. “And it seems that it has once again become a battle ground for the forces of good and evil.”
Chills went down my arms despite the cliché quality of her words. The way she spoke them, the way she looked at the camera, made the cliché vanish and turn into hard, cold truth. Whatever this woman had seen, it had shocked her. Shocked her and scared her enough to believe those words.
“Last night, nine people were murdered,” the reporter went on, “their bodies strapped to the construction behind me, and set on fire. Right here, in front of the famous Witch House. The house, once the home of Judge Jonathon Corwin, is the only structure still standing today with any ties to the Salem Witch Trials of 1692. Judge Corwin served on the Court of Oyer and Terminer, which ultimately sent nineteen people to their deaths. It seems that this history has prompted a modern adaptation,” her eyes went even more serious. “Now I want to warn you that what you're about to see is disturbing and graphic. Parents, please send your children out of the room.”
The camera panned out, showing exactly what the woman was standing in front of. A charred wooden structure of crosses, nine of them, angled into a circle so that they propped each other up. The crosses were blackened and pitted from fire, but they were in better condition than the bodies strapped to them. The corpses looked as if they'd been pulled straight out of Hell. The black crust of their skin was cracked
in several places, showing glaring red muscle beneath, and was still smoldering. Smoke hung low in the air, giving the scene an even more malevolent milieu. And off to the side, planted right in the lawn of the Witch House, was a crude sign on a stake. It read: “There are witches among you. Bring them forth or fall prey to them”.
A strange thing to write. You'd think they would have gone for something traditional like: “Thou shall not suffer a witch to live”. Something biblical and appropriate to the location they'd chosen. But this cryptic message, which was part warning and part threat? It didn't seem quite right to me.
“Although this is the most horrifying incident to date,” the reporter kept her gaze resolutely on the camera. “It doesn't seem to be an isolated one. There are rumblings all over the Internet about witches being real, with videos showing alleged proof to these accusations. Teams of witch hunters have been assembling, prowling city streets for anyone who fits their list of requirements.”
“Requirements?” I scowled. “What could they-”
The reporter cut me off, “Several sites list tribal behavior as an indicator. They advise potential witch hunters to search out groups of people who live together in private communities. They also insist that witches all bear a mark, usually a tattoo, which aligns them with a particular coven. These symbols can be anything from an image of a flame to that of a mountain. Another sign that witches are living in your area, is a high number of violent crimes, which the hunters claim different types of witches are responsible for. Indeed, the claims get quite fantastical, declaring that vampires, werewolves, and even zombies are all types of witches or their handiwork.”
Her words faded out for me as I lifted my gaze to Killian. His expression was grim. This wasn't the sort of thing humans came up with on their own. To cry witch was one thing, but to cry vampire-witch? Or werewolf-witch? And the marks. No one knew about witch tattoos. The Councils only recently found out, and that was because the witches had finally become known to us. Before the raven-mocker incident, we had no idea that witches even existed, much less that they wore tattoos to identify their tribal allegiance.
I looked back to the screen with dread. The news reporter went on to say that the theory concerning all this aggressive behavior towards witches, was that pop culture had influenced the young and mentally unstable. Flashes of a Vin Diesel movie filled the screen for a few moments, while I gaped at it in utter amazement.
“That was actually a better flick than I'd expected,” Killian noted. “I mean, Vin Diesel as a Viking? Come on! But the guy pulled it off.”
“Do shut up, Killian,” Daniel groaned.
“Sorry,” Killian muttered.
“Protests and threats of magical repercussion from the witch community have already begun here in the streets of Salem,” the camera moved to the side, where a crowd of humans dressed in witch costumes, pointy hats and all, shouted and shoved signs up into the air aggressively.
The camera settled on one sign in particular: “You can't have human rights without witch rights!”, and I made some kind of a choking sound. Then the image flashed to an interview obviously recorded previously. A woman in full witch regalia spoke of how persecuted her people were, and how they had power they'd been holding back out of decency and morality. But now they would defend themselves. I rolled my eyes and saw Killian grimacing.
“One of yours?” Conri asked dryly.
“Absolutely not,” Daniel huffed. “That woman is clearly deluded.”
Then the image went back to the pretty reporter. “The local authorities have urged for calm while offering assurances that this is most likely the work of one person, whom they'll soon apprehend,” the reporter didn't look like she believed that for one second. She pointedly peered over her shoulder at the charred remains, then back to the camera. “I'll leave you to form your own opinions on the matter. Back to you, Kathy.” And the image froze.
“Dear Danu,” I whispered.
Behind me, my Guard was stoically silent. Most of them had seen far worse than this before. They were all fairy knights, hardened warriors, and the sight of a few burned bodies didn't bother them. That much.
“That's sick,” Conri finally said. “You know it's Uisdean, right? It's gotta be. He's striking humans and making them act crazy.”
“And using the struck ones to influence already unstable humans,” I sighed. “This could get brutal.”
“Looks like the Witchbane is trying to start a race war,” Killian noted. “If Rue feeds the humans enough information, they'd be able to find us, all of us. There will be witch hunts again, trials. Except this time, they'll be catching actual witches.”
“This is too far for just empowering the club,” I shook my head. “Why go to this extent? They can't possibly have that many fairies to bring back.”
“We lost a lot of people during the wars,” Torquil shrugged. “It's possible that Rue needs a lot of fuel. Especially if her purpose is to make an army of undead fairy warriors.”
“There were nine bodies,” Felix added. “And that's what the club needs to bring someone back.”
“They're inciting humans to hunt witches,” I shook my head. “Which means that Uisdean and Rue won't have access to all of the kills. They're not doing this to fuel the club.”
“You never know,” Conri grimaced, “maybe they have a way of following these witch hunters and stealing the kills.”
“Doubtful, and why draw attention to themselves?” I felt like I was so close to the answer. It hovered in my peripheral vision, a dark shape that disappeared every time I looked straight at it.
“It's actually drawing attention away from them,” Daniel noted. “No one will be looking for fairies, if they're hunting witches. And this is a perfect smokescreen for dumping the bodies.”
“Good point,” I conceded. “Maybe it is simply about making an army of dead fey.”
“It has nothing to do with making an army of dead fairies,” King Keir proclaimed as he swept into the room, Cat close on this heels.
Chapter Thirty-Three
“Now who the hell are you?” Killian asked as I gaped at my father.
“Killian,” Daniel Claybourn sighed and shook his head.
Cat leapt at me before Keir could respond to Killian's rude question, and Killian launched himself forward to protect me from the vicious beast. Cat rounded on Killian, knocking him back on his ass with one powerful swing of her massive head, then she bared her teeth at him for good measure. Cat's hackles were up, her dark eyes focused on Killian like he was prey, and the sounds coming from her throat were terrifying.
“Cat!” I shouted. “He didn't know. He thought you were attacking me,” I knelt down beside her and wrapped my arms around her thick neck. “It's good to see you,” I hugged her tight and allowed myself a moment to bury my face in her long fur. “I missed you so much.”
Cat immediately relaxed, turning her head to me as her fur settled. She licked my cheek and then sat, cocking her head at Killian.
“That's Killian,” I said to her, then looked back over my shoulder at Keir. “Hi, Dad.”
“Seren,” Keir looked furious, his jaw was twitching and his eyes flashing. “Who is this human?”
“That's your dad?” Killian got to his feet and scowled at Keir. “Aren't you a bit young to... oh, right. You're a fairy. That was dumb of me.”
“If you insist,” Keir smirked.
“Dad!” I snapped as I got to my feet.
Cat whined. I set my hand to her head and absently stroked her. I felt so much better having her with me. I shouldn't have left her behind in the first place. Especially now that I knew she could glamour herself to look like a normal dog. And now I'd seen how vicious she could be. Keir was right, Cat was a powerful guardian to have with me. But you weren't supposed to love your bodyguards. They were living shields, and a shield was just a tool. You don't get upset when your shield gets smashed. But I cared for all of my Guard, especially Cat. They were more than shields to me. Oh
well, I was new to this princess thing.
“Seren, we're leaving,” Keir motioned to the door. “Now!”
“Fuck you, Keir,” I said the words slowly, enunciating each one carefully.
Keir went still.
The whole room actually went silent as the King of Twilight looked at me like I'd just taken off my head and started playing basketball with it. Keir's skin had paled and his eyes were practically circles, they were so round. He wasn't breathing or blinking. I just stared at him, furiously. This was why I had avoided Fairy. I knew it would be bad if I saw Keir too soon after I'd found those letters.
“What did you just say to me?” Keir finally asked, in a very dangerous voice.
Cat ran behind me, even though she was bigger than I, and her bulk fluffed out around my legs.
“You heard me just fine, you traitorous son of a bitch,” I snarled. “What? You thought you'd just show up here and spank me? Grab me by the hand and take me home like a disobedient child? I'm not a child, I'm an ex-extinguisher,” Goddess, it hurt to say the ex part, “and I was really good at my job. I know how to investigate,” I leaned towards him and sneered, “I know how to uncover all sorts of secrets.”
“What are you talking about?” Keir's shock turned into bafflement.
“Why don't I just show you?” I stomped into my bedroom and pulled the letters out of the photo album.
Cat trailed after me, turning with me as I did an about face and exited the room. I tossed the letters in Keir's face. They were heavy parchment, and made a smacking sound when they hit. Then they fluttered down around him like autumn leaves. Keir snatched one as it fell and scanned the writing. His eyes twitched, just a little. Enough to show his panic.
“Recognize them?” I asked Keir. “You should. You wrote them.”
“Get out,” King Keir said to the rest of the room. Everyone froze until he shouted, “Now!” The stars in his eyes blazed silver.
Even Killian went scrambling for the door.
