by J. S. Malcom
“He was creating a new city kingdom. He said if I helped him, I’d have great riches.”
Revlen frowns, her hands still pressed to the dead man's temples. “And you believed him?”
“I wanted to believe him.”
“Why?”
“I borrowed money from the Black Sky and I cannot pay them back.”
Revlen closes her eyes, as if these words pain her. She softly says, “Oh.”
Confused, I look to Cade for an explanation. “An illegal gang,” he whispers. “Kind of like the mob in our realm.”
Revlen resumes her questioning. “Did they threaten you?”
Nathic’s corpse nods again. “They said they’d kill my family. Serving the wishes of the High Mage would make us safe again.”
Damn, I can’t help but feel bad for the guy. He must have been beyond desperate.
“I don’t understand,” Revlen says. “So, you agreed to the glamour?”
The corpse opens its mouth but no words come out. Revlen looks to us again, her worried expression saying that we’re running out of time.
“Nathic,” she says. “Please answer. Did you agree to the glamour?”
The corpse speaks more softly this time, his voice growing weak. “I agreed only to procure an object for him.”
Come on dead man, keep talking. I’m sorry, but we really need you to do this.
Revlen raises her voice, trying to keep him from fading. “Please, Nathic! Stay with us. What was it and where did you get it?”
“A talisman. He had it at his country house.”
There’s something I didn’t know, that Vintain had another house. I guess it makes sense, given how long he's been around. Still, the same trait that makes me love the Unseelie, only makes me angry now. They're too damned trusting. They should have burned that house down to the ground.
“What kind of talisman?” Revlen asks. “What power did it have?” When those questions don’t get a response, she says, “Nathic, what did he use it for?”
Light surges at her bloodied hands as Revlen invokes more magic. Still, a few moments pass before Nathic next speaks, his voice growing even more faint.
“He used it to mark me. He used it to take on my form and trap me within his.” The corpse finishes speaking in little more than a whisper, before letting out a soft drawn out groan.
Revlen keeps her hands locked onto the dead man’s temples, as she tries one more time. “Nathic, stay with me! What do you mean by mark? What kind of mark?”
It’s plain to see that it’s a lost cause. Any energy that was left lingering in the man is gone.
Finally, Revlen lets go and steps back. “I’m not sure what he meant.”
The thing is, I’m pretty sure I do, because an image just rose up in my mind. One from that night I’ve relived so many times now, as I’ve kept seeing those events from Nora’s house playing over and over in my memory. I look at Nathic’s exposed torso, checking his arms once more. I still see nothing, but it has to be there somewhere.
“Come on,” I say. “We need to roll him over.”
The four of us take hold of Nathic’s body. As gently as possible, we roll him onto his stomach. Then we watch as, upon his back, the last fiery hues fade from a tattoo shaped like a serpent.
CHAPTER 26
For a few moments, no one speaks as we try to recover from our collective shock. Revlen, in particular, looks pale and shaken. Which makes sense, considering that she just saw a friend die, killed the magically possessed man who murdered him, and then used her own magic to reveal the last memories held within his corpse.
I try to process the meaning of what we’ve witnessed, along with the fact that I was actually right. Part of me hoped I couldn’t be, that there had to be some other explanation. Unfortunately, that’s not the case. Vintain is now out there somewhere, having gotten hold of magic to make his escape. On top of that, he used demon magic. How it came to be stored in a hidden talisman, I can’t say, but in a way it’s not all that surprising. As the High Mage of this realm, Vintain maintained a stranglehold on magic. And didn’t Esras say he also controlled the magic of those allowed to visit? I have to wonder if, somehow, he siphoned some off for himself.
Suddenly, an icy chill ripples through me as something else occurs to me. Again, I hope to hell I’m wrong. “What about Abarrane?”
Esras’s eyes lock onto mine, as behind me Revlen audibly gasps.
“She’s on this same floor,” Cade says. “Can we get to her?”
It seems a damned good question. Tonorf is dead and Loctulan locked the entrance to this wing when he left. Keveris, presumably, went back down to the ground. Are we trapped here?
I figure there’s only one way to find out, so I summon my magic as I stride to the door. As always in Faerie, it kicks in strong, and I channel that magic into the same kind of force I'd use for deflection. Only, instead of creating a shield, I direct that energy outward to blow the door off its hinges. A cloud of dust billows up from the floor.
“I think we’re good,” I say.
With me in the lead, we run down the hall toward the opposite end of the tower, where one more door awaits. I take that one down too. I’m about to run through when Esras grabs hold of me, yanking me back.
He calls out into the room beyond. “Guard, it’s Esras and Revlen. We have others with us. Please stand down!”
He pushes past me to enter first, Revlen following close on his heels. We follow then too, entering a chamber just like the one that held Vintain where a guard stands with his sword drawn. His eyes widen at seeing both interim leaders of Faerie before him.
Revlen takes another step forward. “Please lower your sword.”
The guard does as she asks, but keeps it unsheathed at his side.
“What’s your name?” Revlen asks.
“Stenak,” he says. “What’s happened?”
Revlen shakes her head impatiently. “You wouldn't believe me if I told you, but we'll just have to get back to that. Right now, we need to check on the prisoner.”
He turns toward the cell. “But she’s—”
“That’s an order,” Esras says, falling in beside Revlen. “The blocking ward, please lower it.”
Like Vintain’s cell, this one also displays a shimmering curtain of magic. Past the bars, a woman stands with her back to us where she gazes out the window. She’s tall and thin, with long blonde hair flowing down the back of her dress. Beyond her, the sky continues to darken, holding just the red glow of sunset.
“I’ve lowered the shield,” the guard says. “What should I do now?”
Understandably, he sounds both confused and wary. Fair enough. He may be in the presence of Faerie’s interim leaders, but we just showed up unannounced to magically blow the door down.
“Open the cell door, and please keep watch,” Esras says.
Stenak unlocks the cell and slides the door open. Then he steps away, taking the same position he held before.
The others look to me, their expressions both worried and curious. I shake my head to answer their unspoken question. I sense no magic in this room, either fae or demon.
As a group, we step forward, but even now it seems that Queen Abarrane doesn’t hear us. No, not Queen Abarrane, I remind myself. Prisoner Abarrane. A woman without station or power, dressed in a plain garment and stripped of all magic. But just how much she's changed only becomes evident when she turns around.
Esras told me that she must be very old, hundreds of years at least. Now, she nearly looks it. The fae don’t age as we do, and I’ve yet to see one looking truly ancient. Until now. The woman who stands before us looks nothing like the frighteningly beautiful queen who tortured me. She has transformed into a crone, her face gaunt and wizened, her frame skeletal within her dress.
She looks us over, her blank expression barely shifting. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
None of us speak, as a group presumably too shocked by her transfo
rmation.
The guard, Stenak, speaks softly. “She’s pretty much gone now. Nothing she says makes sense.”
Esras nods, his gaze fixed on the woman who was once Queen Abarrane. “Please tell us your name.”
Abarrane looks at him briefly before her eyes go distant again. “Has the moon gone dancing again?” she says. “I keep waiting for the moon to start dancing.”
Glances are volleyed back and forth between us, and then Esras tries again. “Tell us your name.”
“The white hawk took roost with the lost children,” Abarrane says. “They say his nest is forsaken.”
Behind us, Stenak says, “She lost her mind when the regime fell. She’s been that way since.”
Actually, she was batshit crazy before, if you ask me. But could she be acting this way because she's not really Abarrane? That’s what we were thinking before, but now I’m not so sure. My bet is that Vintain left the shell of his old queen right here to rot now that she's of no use to him. Not that she deserves any better, come to think of it. So, there may be one thing that Vintain and I finally agree on.
To be on the safe side, I try shifting my vision. Nothing happens. Not because my magic fails, but because there's simply no demon energy present.
“Some seeds only thrive in fire. Did you know that, dear?”
I realize that the question has been directed to me, and I look to see Abarrane’s eyes fixed on mine. What's strange is that, while she no longer resembles the woman she was before, her eyes haven't changed. They remain the same two icy blue pools, a malevolent intelligence lurking in their depths. The only difference is that now she has no way to channel that evil out upon the world. No wonder she went bonkers.
I look away, only to hear Abarrane speak again. “Some seeds thrive only in fire, and the trees born of fire shall be the strongest.”
Once again, her gaze remains locked on mine as, behind her, the window glows red. Creepy. Making it even more creepy is that, for a moment, I could swear that light outside looks just like—
“Obviously, we're wasting our time,” Revlen says. “We should go.”
No sooner does she say it than all hell breaks loose. Bells start clanging in alarm as the sound of men shouting rises from the prison yard. The red glow at the window flashes blindingly orange, followed by ear-splitting shrieks that cut through the air. Within seconds, the smell of smoke starts to permeate the chamber. We spin around at the sound of footsteps as Keveris careens through the door, his eyes wide in a face streaming with sweat. “The prison is under attack!”
On instinct, Esras grips the pommel of his sword. “What’s going on? Who’s attacking?”
“Demons! They’ve breached the realm!”
Behind us, demented laughter rises from Abaranne’s lips to echo through the chamber. “See, didn’t I tell you?” she says. “Some seeds thrive only in fire!”
CHAPTER 27
The Tower of Solitude might be the safest place to be during an attack. It’s virtually impregnable from the ground and inaccessible from the air, unless you’re being carried by a griffin. Ironically, Prisoner Abarrane should be just fine. On the other hand, we order the griffins to carry us down to the battle. This was actually my idea, quickly supported by Esras, Revlen and Cade. If someone has opened the gap—and clearly someone has—then I’ll be needed to close it. Esras and Revlen are natural leaders, both battle hardened and fearless. Cade too insists on fighting, when Keveris wanted to fly us over the walls to safety. Whether we would have been safer is hard to say, but it doesn’t matter. None of us would be seen leaving.
We descend through billowing smoke to the sound of men shouting and bells ringing. As soon as we land, we leap out of the carrier and start running, the griffins taking back to the sky. They don't get far.
My head snaps up as more screeching cries cut through the air. Like something from out of a nightmare, two winged demons swoop down from above. My eyes widen as I realize what it was we heard before in the tower. These are zarcaroths, only this time they’re real. Within a moment, one impales a griffin with its razor sharp beak, shaking it loose to let it drop. The other zarcaroth swings its serrated tail to lop off the second griffin’s head. The ground shakes as their bodies crash down behind us.
We reach the fighting, where at least thirty men have spilled out into the yard. They keep drawing back, their frenzied faces lit by a rising wall of fire. I see just two more demons, both tall and shaped like men with broad scalloped wings. That they're vastly outnumbered makes no difference since they're living, breathing flame throwers. They work in unison, pivoting back and forth as they spew out fire. Now I know for sure what set Bethany’s building ablaze.
Esras and Revlen run into the mix with their weapons drawn. Keveris calls out to his men and one of them throws a sword, which is passed off to Cade. Now it’s time for me to do my job. I set myself in motion to run along the outside of the melee, knowing what I’m looking for. It doesn’t take long before I see it—a gap in the veil pulsing with a fiery glow. That’s the good news. The bad news is that it’s on the other side of the demons and beyond the protection of the men fighting them. Still, I need to get there. If I don’t close that gap, the demons will just keep coming.
I start sprinting in that direction when another screech comes from the sky, followed by another. I look up to see the zarcaroths circling above me. Great. In all this mess, they just happened to lock in on me? I’m the smallest thing out here. I can’t imagine it being a coincidence. Nonetheless, they’re bearing down fast and, vampire workouts or not, I don’t suspect I can outrun them. I spin around to stand my ground as Regina’s words from training echo inside my mind. One chance, one weapon!
Well, in this case I need two chances, but I make my choice of weapons. Praying the ley line is with me, I ready myself as the first zarcaroth swoops in for the kill. My heart pounds and sweat drips down my back as I wait for it to draw closer. Then I snap out a crackling white-hot arc of energy to separate the zarcaroth’s head from its body. Neither hit the ground. Instead, they burst apart in a shower of sparks as they leave this dimension. Apparently it’s the same here as for demons on earth. What’s not of this realm can leave no remains.
The other zarcaroth starts to fly up again, apparently thinking better of attack. My eyes become slits as I grit my teeth. Forget about it, asshole. You’re not going anywhere. I strike out again, to take off a wing. Then I strike out once more to take off the other. I don’t watch this time as the creature bursts apart. Instead, I say a quick and silent thank you to the ley line, and take off running.
I skirt around the outside of the fight, my eyes fixed on that gap in the veil. In a moment combining hope, training and pure desperation, I keep running full-bore and then launch myself into the air. For a moment, as I sail over the men, I feel sure I’m going to fall—but, somehow, both my levitation and trajectory stay true. I land on the other side of the flames and fighting, where I keep running and thrust out both hands. Twin shimmering orbs streak through the air, trailing white light in their wake. I brace myself, heart pounding and not sure what to expect. I’m in Faerie, after all. Can I even close the veil here? Then both orbs strike home, the veil gap imploding in a burst of blue light.
Gasping for air, I spin around and march toward my remaining two targets, who appear as huge silhouettes against the glow of the fire. They have their backs to me as they continue battling the men. They may think they’re winning, but I just cut off their escape. I let out a scream of rage and thrust out twice more to release what might be the last of my magic. Hearing me, the fire demons spin in my direction, but it’s already too late. My heart leaps in my chest as they become engulfed in a brilliant white light.
“Consider yourselves extinguished,” I hiss, as they flail, stagger back and start to melt inward. A moment later, nothing remains but two smoldering husks that are already starting to fade.
Utterly depleted, I stumble back as my legs start to wobble. Then I hear voices rise f
rom what feels like miles away. I turn in that direction and realize that what I’m hearing are the men shouting, cheering and calling my name. Beyond the now dying wall of flame, they hold up their swords, thrusting them up toward the sky. In the crowd, I see Revlen and Cade, both of them grinning. Then I see Esras, his gaze full of pride and amazement as he too holds up his sword in salute.
Suddenly, I feel unsteady again and I stumble back once more. Then the scene before me fades to be replaced by a vision. I see a woman bathed in soft, glowing light as she stands within a misty void. She’s tall and graceful, her long blonde hair falling upon the shoulders of her flowing white robes. She has ears that taper to points, and luminous eyes that remain fixed upon mine. I know her, of course, this force who hasn’t forgotten that I freed her.
“You must go,” she says. “Your realm needs you.”
I walk toward her to take hold of her outstretched hand. Then she draws me in, wrapping me in light as she transforms herself into a portal.
CHAPTER 28
A moment later, I emerge onto a city street where more demons appear to be having fun. A car burns at the side of the road as flames reach toward the trees lining the sidewalk. Several streetlights lay smashed and twisted, where they've been uprooted and cast aside like broken toys. I'm so sick of these overgrown toddlers from Hell.
A quick assessment determines that I'm facing three of the bastards. There’s one of the ever popular fire-breathers, a bull demon type—and, well how about that—something new yet again. This one resembles a tank crossed with a porcupine. It's at least six feet long with tall spiky quills that crackle and flare with electricity. That's as much time as I have for observation before the demons spot me where I now stand panting and sweating. Naturally, they start heading my way, since I'm the only thing out here for them to gore, burn or eat alive.
Wait, the ley line sent me back here to face this alone? What the hell was she thinking?
No sooner do I think it than Beatrice blips in beside me. She’s quickly followed by Regina, Harper, Blair and Alec. In a moment that would be comic—minus the demons—Beatrice and I look at each other and both say, “How did you get here?”
