by Helen Adams
“Hey, I didn’t ask him to help!”
“She specifically told him not to come,” Lee added.
Mel groaned and covered her face. From the road I heard the wail of sirens.
“You don’t know much about vaengrjarl psychology, do you?” Mel accused.
“Daphne,” Raz said, slow and pointed, “are you going to introduce us to your ‘friend’? Is she another of your ‘contacts’?”
I hadn’t told them about our girly-gossip before the spar. Now was not the time. Mel was obviously of the same mind; she drew herself up, the cloud of anger around her dissipating, replaced by a level of calm and control that I envied.
“We need to leave,” she commanded. “You, you – pick him up.” She pointed first to Lee, then Raz, then Lukas. “We’ll go to a safe house.”
“I don’t take orders from you,” Lee growled.
Mel looked him over, mud-coloured eyes moving up and down his muscled frame.
“You’ll do as you’re told or I’ll break your wrist,” she said with a dismissive tilt of her head.
“Do it,” I urged Lee. “Because I’ll have to lug Lukas around when she fucks you over.”
“Lady, I don’t know who you think you are –”
“Open your eyes and pay attention before she hurts you,” I interrupted. I was so tired of his bullshit.
The sirens were closer. I saw flashing blue lights, heard shouting voices. We were almost out of time.
“I don’t take orders from any of you,” Lee said, stubborn resentment painted on his face. I could have shouted with frustration.
Mel – shorter than him by inches, lighter by pounds – grabbed him and pulled his hand back. He screamed, a short, high-pitched sound that made my ears hurt. He choked it back. She stared at him with disdain.
“Next time it won’t be your wrist I break.” You had to respect such business-like violence, if only because one day you could be on the receiving end. “You.” She pointed at Raz, then me. “Carry. Now. We go this way.” Another jab of the finger, this time to the rear of the industrial estate.
As we prepared to leave, I realised that I’d lost Baby. Really lost her. I didn’t have time to look for the falchion, and doubted that I’d find her even if I tried. She was either buried under a ton of junk or melted to slag. Either way, she was gone.
My throat tightened. When all was said and done, she was just a sword. Only a sword. Nothing more.
But losing her hurt more than all my physical wounds.
The fence at the rear of the industrial plot had been rammed by the troll biker gang. Raz and I shuffled over the ruined metal, Lukas a dead weight between us. Lee trailed behind with his broken wrist cradled against his body. The joint was purple and swollen.
Mel was on the phone when we caught up. She ended the call when we got within earshot.
“Calling your hairdresser?” I sniped. Lukas was a lot heavier than he looked. My back, arms and shoulders ached, and I was pretty sure I was about pull a hernia.
“Daphne,” Raz cautioned.
Mel gave me a long, level look. “What do you call this… this rudeness? ‘Trash-talking’?” She made deliberate air-quotes.
I shrugged. I wasn’t going to explain and I sure as hell wasn’t going to apologise.
“She was born without a brain-mouth filter,” Raz grunted.
Mel smiled. The expression lit her whole face, taking some of the grim mystery from her features.
“Never stop,” she told me, ignoring Raz. “When you become queen, it will infuriate everyone. They’ll try to kill you, of course, but it will keep them on their toes.”
“Whoah, Nelly! Back right the fuck up. I’m not marrying Lukas!”
“So you say.” She gave me a knowing look. “But he is persuasive and persistent. He rarely tries to bed a woman more than once.”
“Can we not talk about Daphne’s sex life?” Raz begged.
“Lady,” I snapped, sweating, “if I wasn’t carrying your fucking future king, I’d punch you in the mouth.” I hurt way too much to be polite.
Mel didn’t seem annoyed. And that damned smile never left her face.
Our taufrkyn found us before we’d gone a hundred feet from the burning site. Lorl, as orange as a traffic-cone, plopped on to my head and cuddled my skull as if she thought it might disappear. Her vitality, her comfort, seemed to seep directly into my brain.
Ques landed more sedately on Raz’s shoulder. As soon as the taufrkyn made physical contact, the tension began to melt from his face.
Mel led us through back streets and alleys. Police cars raced by, followed by dozens of rubberneckers, all coming to see what had caused the fire. I tensed as the first car drove past, certain that it must have seen us carrying a body, but it didn’t stop.
Nobody else stopped, either. At this time of night it was mostly youths in hoodies and the occasional late-night alcoholic. But none of them saw us.
I gave the back of Mel’s head an appraising look. I wanted to know who this kitsune was. Politician, fighter, and now a witch – how many strings did she have to her bow?
“Get in.” She pointed to a white van and tossed the keys at Lee. His uninjured hand trembled as he unlocked the doors; I knew from experience just how much broken bones hurt. But I couldn’t bring myself to find any sympathy for him.
Raz and I hauled Lukas into the back. I curled up next to him, exhausted, uncaring that he was naked and injured and possibly dying. I closed my eyes and slept.
Raz shook me awake. I blinked, bleary, and tried to get my bearings. We’d parked on a street across the other side of town. Ironic – it wasn’t far from Kristjan’s house. I couldn’t have been asleep for more than fifteen minutes. Jesus, if I didn’t get some proper rest soon I was just going to collapse.
I almost fell out of the van. Raz was no better, and we still had to carry Lukas between us. We shuffled out of the driveway and into a big detached house.
“Take him upstairs,” Mel ordered. I gave her a jaundiced look. “Alright. Put him on the sofa.”
We laid him down. It felt wrong to see him like this, when he was at his most vulnerable, and I wasn’t talking about him being stark bollock naked. There was nothing sexual about my appraisal. His skin was grey, where it wasn’t black and oozing. His chest rose and fell. Each movement was shallow.
“I’ve called for help,” Mel said. “She’ll be here soon. You might want to sleep.”
“I have to find Alice,” I growled.
I was exhausted, at the end of my rope and ready to break. I had no idea where Mina had gone and now no way to find her. Lukas had been my last hope.
“Come here,” Raz murmured.
I went to him without reservation. His arms were open and I let them fold around me. I didn’t care that everyone was watching. What I cared about was his warmth, the way it seeped into my tired frame as he held me. I smelled sweat, burned cloth and singed hair. Blood. They were bad smells and it was wrong to be comforted by them, but I was, because they were attached to a man that I loved.
Raz had become so many things to me. He was my mentor, my best friend, my father (a decent one, who didn’t lob empty beer bottles at his only daughter as target practice) and brother and uncle, all rolled into one. Sometimes I thought that he knew me better than I knew myself.
I cried and I didn’t try to stop. I just enjoyed the warmth and the smell and the knowledge that he was here for me.
Raz seemed to sense when I’d cried myself out. His arms loosened and I stepped back, wiping my face. I paused to look at everyone in turn.
“Polite warning,” I said, voice thick. “If word gets out that I blubbed like a baby, I’m going to start beating heads till I find out which one of you couldn’t keep your damned mouth shut.” Berserkers had to work to keep their street cred.
“Won’t hear a dickie bird from me,” Raz said. I knew that he, at least, wouldn’t spill my secrets.
“Alice really means that much to you?” Le
e asked. He couldn’t keep the incredulity out of his voice. I looked at him, imagining using his own knuckle dusters to smash his teeth down his throat.
“OK. Point taken. My lips are sealed.”
I glanced at Mel. She looked back, muddy eyes impassive. I didn’t want to fight; I knew jack shit about her except that she was dangerous. But how I felt now – tired, scared, furious, all wrapped up into one burned, charred and bleeding package – I was close to lashing out.
“I think,” the kitsune said, each word slow and measured, “that you value friendship above all else. More than your own life. That is an admirable trait. Foolish, perhaps, but admirable. One of many reasons why Lukas would pick you as his bride.”
“Don’t go expecting wedding bells.”
“Women have to work together to maintain the face they show the world,” she said, trying for female solidarity. That was a shitty way of saying ‘I won’t tell’. “And I’ll help you find your friend.”
“You will?” Relief, an almost overwhelming torrent, flooded through me. I swayed, blood roaring through my ears. I dug my nails into my palms.
“Count on it.” She gave me a sideways look. “It would be a… politic… thing to do. Lukas has invested time and – other things – into finding her.” She skated delicately over the matter of his hand.
I understood what she was saying. Lukas had turned Alice into a cause, going above and beyond to help me.
Not typical vaengrjarl behaviour.
When he recovered – and I had to believe that he would, because I didn’t want to think about the political ramifications if he didn’t – anyone who’d helped his cause would get big Brownie points.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“A question we’d all like answered,” Raz added.
“I’m Mel.” Her smile was deliberately enigmatic.
“Correction.” I rolled my eyes. “What are you?”
“The person who’s going to help you find Alice. Do you need more?”
Only that she was a shapeshifter, a fighter, witch and politician. No, of course I didn’t need any more. My hard smile was answer enough; we understood each other.
“This is what happens when you deal with vaengrjarl,” Raz huffed. “Complications.”
“Taking notes on this, Mr. SIU?” I asked Lee.
“Chapter and verse.” His face was tight with pain, but at least he wasn’t whining. That was a point in his favour.
“Can we get some leighis for his wrist?”
“You don’t want the lesson to stick?” Mel offered Lee a humourless grin, revealing small, white teeth.
“It’s stuck! It’s stuck!”
“What do you think, Daphne?”
I studied the tension on his bruised face, the way deep lines of pain and stress had etched themselves into his swollen skin.
“You blackmailed me into maturing your aura and turning you into a berserker,” I said to him. “You didn’t have a fucking clue what you were getting yourself into. You think you’ve got me over a barrel, but the truth is that you need us.”
“Yeah.” He looked as if he was sucking a lemon. “Guess I do.”
“You’re a berserker now,” I continued. “You can see what dewdrops can’t. You won’t last long without guidance, and I can’t say that I’d be heartbroken about that. But here’s the thing – we stick together. We’re family. We look out for one another.”
His eyes searched my face. He was listening.
“You got what you wanted by deception. That makes you the black sheep that no one gives a fuck about, except we have to give a fuck. Do you understand?”
He stared at me for a long time.
“Yeah. I get it.”
“She’d make a fantastic motivational speaker,” Raz said in an aside to Ques. I ignored him.
“So if we get you leighis – healing cream – it’s because we’re a family. We’ve looked out for you. So you have to look out for us.”
“You let that bitch break my wrist!”
“I let her teach you a lesson,” I corrected, leaving out the part where I doubted I could have stopped her, even if I’d wanted to. Which I hadn’t. “What you take from that lesson is up to you.”
He regarded Mel with silent thought. If she was silently plotting his death at being called ‘that bitch’, she didn’t let it show.
“Alright,” he nodded after a moment. “I can dig it.”
And do you know what? I believed him.
TWENTY
The doorbell rang. I didn’t mind the interruption. I was done talking to Lee, and he was done with this particular lesson.
There’d be more. If he lived long enough, there’d be more.
Mel went to answer the door. When she came back she was towing a round, pale-as-wax woman who… well, let’s just say that the Fashion Fairy had given her a wide berth. A black and white dress pulled tight across her body, a matching headscarf concealing her hair. Carrot-coloured wisps poked out from the sides.
The plastic fruit on top was a nice touch, but frankly OTT for the middle of Basingstoke. Especially as her taufrkyn – a chubby little thing with soft blue fur – was curled up and snoring in a bunch of grapes.
“Mama Denique.” She had a high, nasal voice. “Pleased to meet you.” She put out a podgy hand and we shook. Seriously, if she ever went out in the sun she’d fry.
“Daphne McArthur.” I introduced the other berserkers and gave Mel an enquiring look.
“She’s a practitioner of the Way of the Deep Path,” she explained. Raz let out a startled breath.
I turned to him. “Deep Path?”
“The medic’s medic, the best of the best. They’ve caused wars.” He rubbed his chin. “Helen of Troy? Not such a looker, but a dab hand with crystals and herbs.”
“How does it work?” I asked Denique, fascinated. This Way wasn’t mentioned in the Bestiary. Maybe Harpy had never met a practitioner.
“A little of this, a touch of that. I like to mix things up.”
“Huh?”
“The Way draws on many types of magic,” Mel interrupted, impatient, “but explanations can wait until Lukas has been healed, yes? Then I can find your friend?”
“Alright, alright…” Point taken.
“What did this?” Denique asked, not taking her eyes off Lukas.
“I don’t know. I didn’t get there in time,” Mel replied.
Lee cleared his throat. “Uh, excuse me, Mrs… Denique… I saw.” Denique made him nervous. That was worth knowing.
“What did you see? Exactly? I need details.”
“We’re chasing this crazy bird, right?”
“A splitter. I’m aware.”
“She pulled something out that looked like a wand.”
“Describe it to me!”
Lee fidgeted. So did I. Guilt squirmed in my stomach.
“About this long.” He held his hands maybe fifteen inches apart. “Curved.”
“Wood?”
“No, it was kinda yellow…”
“Ivory,” she nodded. “Old ivory. Any markings?”
“I didn’t get that close a look.”
She made a tsk noise. “Alright. Did she say anything?”
“Couldn’t hear. But her lips were moving.”
“And what came out of the wand?”
“Purple light. In a beam.”
“Oh, that’s nasty,” Denique grimaced. She shared a look with Mel. “That wand was made from a brood-troll tusk.”
“Brood troll?” I asked, startled. “What’s one of those?”
“Where do you think baby trolls come from?”
“So when a mummy troll and a daddy troll love each other very much…?”
“Gosh, no.” Denique shook her head. “When a daddy troll loves a brood troll very much, they do the nasty – and trust me, it’s nasty – and out pops a clutch of what are basically giant slugs. I don’t think they develop limbs until late infancy.”
“Yuck! That’s…
ugh, that’s gross!”
“Berserkers. They think they know everything there is to know about life beyond the aura.”
“Not even nearly,” I corrected. “But we know everything there is to know about death.”
Denique had brought a massive carpetbag with her, as garish as her outfit. A ghostly voice shrieked in my head. ‘A handbag?’
I frowned, rummaging through my memory, and finally found it – a TV adaptation of a play, The Importance of Being Ernest. All I could remember was that old bird shrieking ‘A handbag?’ at full volume. Funny what the mind kicks up.
Opening the bag now, Denique pulled out a small tub and tossed it to Lee.
“For your wrist,” she explained. “Saw you were holding it. Good for your face, too.”
Lee caught the tub with his good hand. “What’s this?”
Denique rolled her eyes and looked at me. “He’s really new, isn’t he?”
“You have no idea.”
“Well, you baby-sit him while I get on with things.”
I took the pot from Lee’s unresisting hand. “This is leighis,” I told him, unscrewing the lid of the pot. The pungent smell of ginger filled my nose. Good – it was strong. “It’s good for scrapes, cuts and bruises, but it works on bones too. This is going to hurt…”
When I was done Lee curled up on another sofa, exhausted, and slept. I felt a moment’s pity. Using leighis to reset broken bones was almost as bad as getting the break in the first place, but the stuff was worth its weight in platinum. When he woke he’d have full use of the hand, full rotation, and a lingering stiffness that would be gone by this time tomorrow.
I put the pot back in Denique’s carpetbag, not wanting to disturb her as she worked. Raz was fascinated. His taufrkyn and mine had taken high perches to watch. I plonked myself down in an armchair, pinching myself to stay awake. My ribs throbbed and the parts of me that didn’t ache were sore. Healing myself would have to wait till later – there hadn’t been enough leighis left in the pot for me.
The only one who wasn’t watching was Mel, who’d positioned herself lotus-style on the floor. Her eyes were closed, palms on knees. She appeared to be meditating.
