by M. D. Massey
Soon I wandered the tombstone-lined lanes of Oakwood Cemetery. I passed what appeared to be a small chapel, with a crenelated tower attached. It had been built from the same square limestone blocks that made up many of the walls and boundary markers on the grounds. A haggard caretaker raked leaves behind the chapel as I passed, with a spare build that was all joints and sharp angles. He had wild salt and pepper hair, and a beard to match. To be honest, he looked like a slightly younger version of Finn.
The old man fixed me with a stare that was equal parts casual concern and wary regard. While I was sure the cemetery got its fair share of homeless wandering around, I was also fairly certain it was discouraged by the caretakers and staff. The last thing they needed was a bunch of homeless people setting up camp inside a mausoleum. Besides, Austin had plenty of lodging downtown at the ARCH and the Salvation Army. It wouldn’t be considered cruel to chase the odd straggler away and point them toward better facilities just a few blocks south.
Plus, much of the violent crime in the area was committed by the homeless population. It occurred to me that considering the way I currently looked, he’d be a fool not to be optimistically vigilant.
“You looking for something, young man?” the old caretaker asked.
On hearing his voice, I recognized him as the same old man I’d run into during my previous visit. “Just out for a walk, trying to clear my thoughts.”
Suddenly the sky darkened as a cloud passed overhead. A cold wind blew right through me, chilling me to my core. I wrapped my arms tightly across my chest and shivered. Then, as quickly as it had come, the wind abated and weak winter sunshine shone in the sky again.
The old man smiled a wolfish grin. His teeth were large and white, making his mouth a bright gash amidst the crags and crevices of his deeply tanned and wind-worn face. For no logical reason at all, I got the feeling he’d known violence and grown comfortable with it in a past life.
“Looks to be gettin’ colder, and you’re not dressed for it at all. Best get somewhere warm now. If you know what’s good for you.”
With that, the old man returned to his raking, turning his back and dismissing me. Apparently, he’d deemed me as no threat at all.
I shook my head and continued walking aimlessly, leaving the cemetery to catch a bus back to the junkyard. But instead of going home, I got off at Ben White and walked over to the Bloody Fedora, a bar owned by Sal the redcap’s boss that catered to unseelie fae. I told myself I just wanted a drink to help me sleep, but in truth I felt like hurting something that deserved it. And there was always something at the Fedora that deserved it.
Chapter Twenty
Hours later I stood outside Maeve’s house, holding Sal the redcap by the scruff of his neck and yelling drunkenly at the top of my lungs.
“Maeve! Maeve, you dried up cunt, come out here so I can talk to you!”
Sal pleaded with me from where he dangled in my left hand.
“Colin, shut the fuck up and let’s get outta here. You’re going to get us both killed. Please kid, listen to me. I still got little mouths to feed at home.”
I shook him like a wet rag until he stopped talking, but only after a parting mumble regarding heartless druids who were mean drunks.
“Maeve, come out here and talk to me like a man!” I giggled and stumbled a bit. “Well, like a fae. A female fae. You know what I mean, damn it!”
Sal hid his face in his hands. “We are so dead. Oh please, just make it quick.”
Somewhere to my left, the loud grating of stone scraping on stone drew the barest sliver of my attention. After a dozen shots, a brawl with a half-ogre bartender, and turning Rocko’s place upside down, I wasn’t feeling my sharpest. The ground shook, staggering me and making me just a wee bit woozy. I turned just in time to see one of the gargoyles pawing the ground and glaring at me.
I tossed Sal at it, striking it in the muzzle. He bounced off and rolled a few feet, then pulled his bloody watch cap tightly over his ears and played dead.
“Go chomp on that a while, you big lug,” I slurred. “I’ll deal with you in a minute.”
The gargoyle charged.
Despite my inebriated state—or perhaps because of it—I remained unperturbed. I’d fought dozens of creatures like it during the course of my training and career as a hunter. And often, I’d had to fight wounded, many times finishing creatures off while dizzy from blood loss or brain-addled from suffering a concussion. I was clearheaded enough to recall that Maeve had these two guardians in her garden, so I was ready for it when the gargoyle attacked.
I sidestepped the charging beast and swung my war club overhead, striking it behind the ear and driving the gargoyle’s head into the dirt. Its momentum caused it to skid a dozen feet or more, plowing a deep gash into the earth with its face. Eventually it came to a stop by displacing a few flagstones from a very lovely walkway. The gargoyle remained stunned for a moment, then stumbled as it rose to its feet.
I twirled my club and whistled loudly. “Man, that looks like it hurt. You should get one of Maeve’s flunkies to look at you—”
Next thing I knew, I was tumbling across the lawn. I landed in a heap against the stone foundation of Maeve’s mansion.
Right, there are two of them. The one that had blindsided me now ran at me full-bore to finish the job. Unfortunately, I’d lost track of my club and there was no time to grab another weapon from my bag. I barely managed to get to my knees when the thing froze in mid-stride, mere feet from crushing me.
Maeve appeared out of nowhere in a blinding flash of magic. Behind her, I caught the briefest glimpse of a boudoir, just before she stepped out of a rift and into her garden. Well shit, I thought, Maeve can fold space. Huh.
What she did was actually a much neater trick than teleportation, which was so many degrees beyond my abilities I couldn’t even imagine the forces it took to make it happen. Teleportation used magic to disassemble and reassemble the spellcaster’s molecules from one location to the next. It was very dangerous, and very tricky—one misplaced syllable or gesture and you might end up with your head sticking out of your chest at the other end.
What Maeve did was much safer yet infinitely more difficult. Opening a rift between two places and stepping through it was definitely not bush league spell craft. Rumored to have once been the preferred means of magical travel in the age of the Tuatha Dé Danann, folding space was something I didn’t think anyone currently living on the big blue ball could still do.
The fae queen of Austin held a hand up in the gargoyle’s direction as she stepped completely out of the rift. With a slight gesture from Maeve, it settled gently down from where it had been frozen in mid-air.
“That’ll be enough, Adelard—you’ve done your job admirably. Gather up Lothair and return to your roosts.”
The gargoyle puffed out its chest and licked one of its clawed hands in a very catlike manner. It pranced slowly up to me, sniffed once and turned its snout in the air, then walked away.
“Yeah, yeah—I stink. Tell me something I don’t know.” At some point I’d slid back down the wall, but I hadn’t a single recollection of that happening. I looked up at Maeve. “Good, you’re here. Now we can talk.”
She was dressed in some long white gauzy-looking thing that might have been a night gown, or perhaps an evening dress, and her normal glamour was gone. While I didn’t think I was getting the full fae effect, I was pretty sure it was close. Her features were much more regal and alien than usual, and she was disturbingly, frighteningly beautiful. Her presumably bare feet were obscured from view by her gown, which was just as well. Fae were known to have freaky feet, and to be honest weird feet creeped me out. Hammertoes on a hot chick? Instant turn off. So you can imagine what seeing Maeve with bird feet or goat hooves would do to me. I’d never be able to look her in the eye again.
In a very ladylike manner, Maeve squatted down to get eye level with me. And without revealing said feet or even a single square centimeter of skin, I might add.
I think that impressed me even more than seeing her create a spatial rift. But perhaps I shouldn’t have been too impressed. She’d had several millennia to practice, after all.
“Colin MacCumhaill, whatever am I to do with you?”
I looked her in the eye and spoke with as much menace as I could muster, considering that I was laid out in a heap in her flower bed.
“Release me. Leave me alone to lead a life in peace, away from the fae, from the supernatural, from it all,” I growled.
Then I threw up all over her pansies and snapdragons.
Fifteen minutes later we were inside her home, in a sitting room just past the foyer that I’d never seen before. As I said, Maeve’s house had a way of popping new rooms into existence and rearranging itself. I suspected the rooms were a reflection of Maeve’s whims and moods, and not any real sentience on the house’s part. At least, I hoped they weren’t—because the idea of being inside a sentient house made me hella nervous.
A few moments before, hat in hand, Sal had prostrated himself before Maeve—something I’d never thought to see from a redcap. Of course, he’d blamed the whole thing on me and said he’d wanted nothing to do with bringing me here. Which was absolutely, one hundred percent true, in fact. I didn’t remember much of the evening before I’d arrived with Sal, but I did vaguely recall a brawl, tearing Rocko’s place apart, and drinking half the booze in the joint—not necessarily in that order. After which, I’d forced Sal to drive me to Maeve’s place.
She gave me a potion to drink, only after swearing by all that was fae it was a gift freely given, no harm to me or mine, yadda, yadda, yadda. I didn’t really care at that point, since the room was spinning and I didn’t want to yak on her rug. The potion sobered me up right quick, and I immediately felt like an asshole.
“Sorry for calling you a—well, a C-word.”
She fixed me with a stare that was either compassionate or calculating. With her, it could go either way. Maeve was ancient and alien, and her motives were as unpredictable as Texas weather. Or so I’d heard.
Yet, for the brief time I’d known her she’d proven to be as steady and calm as anyone I’d ever known—a far cry from the capriciousness and cruelty that I expected from a faery queen. Maeve’s kind were known to delight in toying with the lives of mortal men and women, and I’d always just assumed she was doing the same with me. Her machinations had pulled me back into the world of the supernatural, and I’d been in one hot mess after another since she’d first summoned me to her home.
Which is why, in my drunken stupor, I’d decided she was to blame for Belladonna’s current state.
Maeve tsked and broke the silence. “If it were anyone else, that person might be spending time with a very nasty boggart deep within the bowels of my cellars about now. But I seem to have become fond of you, Colin McCool. I must be growing softhearted in my old age.”
I laughed humorlessly. “No offense, Maeve, but you’re anything but softhearted. With all due respect, I believe your interests in my well-being are purely selfish. The only reason you didn’t squash me like a bug is because you need me. Or, more specifically, you need the Eye.”
She nodded. “I do need the Eye. But don’t think that just because you studied a few years with Finnegas you have the fae all figured out. We do have emotions, although we tend to keep the better aspects of them hidden away like so much useless dross.”
She made a small dismissive gesture, sweeping an imaginary bug off her knee.
“Enough about that. You mentioned wanting to be released from my service. Yet, you’ve never truly been held at all, have you? You’re certainly under no geas or spell of my making, of that I can assure you. Every decision you’ve taken and action you’ve made over the last several months have been completely under your own volition. And if you don’t want to complete the task I’ve set before you, I suppose there’s nothing I can do to convince you otherwise.”
I took a deep breath and let it out before responding. “You have my mother’s paintings, which is why I currently find myself under your thumb.”
She nodded slightly. “Indeed, I do. But from this point forward, you have my solemn vow that I’ll not harm your mother’s career or livelihood.”
Fae couldn’t lie. Oh they could dissemble, sure—but lying was something that was completely beyond their abilities. For whatever reason, they were incapable of speaking falsely.
That’s why I was taken aback by Maeve’s words.
I squinted and pursed my lips, both due to a pounding headache and disbelief. “What’s the catch?”
She sat back in her chair and crossed her legs, one knee over the other. Somehow, she still managed to keep her feet hidden under the hem of that gown of hers, and I silently thanked my lucky stars for that small favor. I really had no idea if she had goat feet, but I didn’t want to find out.
Maeve steepled her fingers in front of her chest. “There is no catch, Colin. I am simply looking out for your interests.”
“Maeve, who are the players behind the Ananda Corporation, and why do they seem to want your head on a platter?”
She took her time before answering. “For your own safety, I refuse to answer that question.”
I held a hand up in protest. “Enough. I’m sorry for insulting you and getting you out of bed, but I’ll believe you’re looking out for me when pigs fly.”
She tilted her head slightly. “You’ve obviously never spent time in Underhill.”
I stood, holding one palm to my forehead in response to the sharp stabbing pain behind my eyes. “Your potion was very useful. I’ll be going now.”
She stared at me over those steepled fingers, like a spider waiting to see if its prey would escape or tangle itself further through struggle. The front door was within my line of sight, so I decided to see myself out. Maeve uttered not one word until I was almost out the door. She spoke at a conversational volume, but despite the distance it sounded as if her lips were right next to my ear.
“We still have much work to do, Colin. When you’re ready to continue, I’ll be here.”
I woke up fully dressed, still in the filthy and blood-stained clothing I’d been wearing for two solid days. I sat up and licked my lips, but my tongue was too dry to make a difference. Thankfully my headache was gone, probably due to that potion Maeve had given me. No telling what side effects I’d suffer from it, but nevertheless I was glad to have avoided a serious hangover.
The night previous I’d taken a cab back to the junkyard, wasting my grocery money on the fare because I was too weary and hungover to care. It was close to four in the morning when I’d arrived, and a look at my phone told me I’d slept for ten hours. I had a voice message from Finn, calling from the hospital to say that Bells was awake and asking for me, along with several texts from Sabine and Hemi asking about Belladonna’s condition.
I felt like an ass for leaving her at the hospital, and for not being there when she’d come around. So I took a quick shower, rode the bus downtown to retrieve my scooter, and made a beeline for the hospital. I found a space in visitor parking outside the ER, and practically sprinted to the ICU.
When I hit the desk, a nurse stopped me cold before I could run in. “Just a minute there, young man—where do you think you’re going?”
“Belladonna Becerra—is she awake?”
“Yes, but you’ve missed visiting hours.” She looked me over and tapped a pen on her chin. “You must be Colin. She’s been asking for you. Right now we have her sedated so she can rest, but wait here and I’ll see if I can let you in to see her.”
She disappeared around a corner. When she came back she waggled a finger in my face. “You can only see her for a minute or two. The only reason I’m even letting you in is because I think it’ll help her rest. You’re to get in, say ‘hi’ and ‘bye,’ and that’s it. Am I understood?”
I nodded quickly, looking past her shoulder to see if I could catch a glimpse of Bells through the doors to the ICU.
The nurse rolled her eyes. “C’mon, before you run in there without me and I have to get security to take you down.”
I was pretty sure she was serious, but the only thing on my mind was getting in to see Bells. The nurse walked me through the doors, past a few other rooms with patients who all looked to be in bad shape. Some were on ventilators, most were unconscious, and one was strapped into a bed that reminded me of something out of a late night horror movie. The poor guy had this circular metal thing around his head, and there were screws going through the circle and into his skull. I must’ve stared too long, because a male nurse inside the room noticed and pulled a curtain to block my view.
I felt a hand on my chest and stopped walking. The nurse’s brow furrowed as she whispered. “Two minutes, that’s all you get.”
I nodded quickly and entered in the room. Belladonna was sleeping—or at least her eyes were closed—and she was still hooked up to everything, just like when they’d brought her in. Some color had returned to her cheeks, and she’d been cleaned up as well. I noticed a bruise and a scrape on her forehead, and her lip had been cut slightly in the blast.
I walked over and grabbed her hand, ever so gently.
Her eyes fluttered open halfway and she spoke softly, her voice raspy and her speech slurred. “Mmmm. You’re here.”
“Shhh. Just rest. The nurse told me you need it.”
“Ah, you met Nurse Ratched.”
I smiled. “She said she’d cut me off at the knees if I stayed too long.”
She squeezed my fingers. “Probably just has a crush on you. Wants to keep you to herself.” She closed her eyes, and her lips curled up slightly. “Tell her I’m onto her.”
I leaned in and kissed her on the forehead. “You don’t have a thing to worry about.”
“I know,” she replied. Then she was fast asleep again.
I wiped my eyes, squeezed her hand, and planted a soft kiss on her lips for good measure. Then I walked out of the room, being careful not to disturb her as I left. I stopped at the nurse’s station, where the nurse typed away.
