Forged in Fire

by J. A. Pitts

  I wound the second cord around my hand, holding the key in my fist. This was for Nidhogg, and she didn’t want to be disturbed. Maybe I’d give it to Zi Xiu instead. That wasn’t the bargain, but we’d see. Jai Li stood there watching me. On a whim I sat down in front of the gate and held my arms open to her.

  She looked behind her, as if to see who may be watching, then crawled into my lap. I held her against me, feeling her warmth against my chest—felt the fineness of her hair brush against my chin.

  For the next thirty minutes we sat there while I pointed out the different aspects of the gate, from the worked leaves and flowers to the runes for protection and the twin dragons along the top of the gate.

  I didn’t mention how badly Stuart wanted me to make one of those drakes on its back, with a young woman over it, stabbing it in the chest. It had an appeal, granted, but I didn’t think Nidhogg would appreciate the sentiment.

  The feel of that child in my lap triggered something in me. Whether biological or just social, I had no idea, but I wanted to protect her from the life she led. There was no justice if a child this sweet had to live in a place with such psychosis and fear.

  After my butt had long gone to sleep, I shooed her back to her duties. I needed to get into the library and do some research while the offer was open. Who knew when the next breeze would blow the fickle Nidhogg into indignation?

  I hobbled into the library, my ass spiked with the pins and needles of returning circulation. Just like the last time I’d been in the great room, I was overwhelmed with the beauty of it all.

  I spent an hour walking up and down the library, trailing my fingers along the leather spines. Many of the books were classics I recognized. There were whole sections in languages I couldn’t begin to read. Twice I found a book that contained real power. The touch of them was a gentle tingle, like touching your tongue to a nine-volt battery.

  One was in Arabic, so I let it alone after flipping a couple of pages. The other was in English. Well, mostly English, but there was French; German, I think; and runes in several different dialects. I set it aside to be looked at in more detail later. First, I wanted to explore some more.

  I spent a good hour researching symbols related to the tattoo I’d seen on Charlie Hague. The individual parts could be interpreted in various ways, but together they seemed to represent an order. Similar patterns were represented in several books on covert religions and ancient orders. I didn’t understand why Charlie Hague would have the symbol of a secret society tattooed to the inside of his wrist where anyone could see it. It just seemed reckless.

  Before long my bladder decided I needed a chance to stretch. I got up and walked back to the hall. As I reached for the door I saw that Jai Li had fallen asleep curled on a chair to the right of the door. She’d snuck in and watched me while I studied.

  I left her and stepped into the hall. One of the scullery maids was just coming down from the laundry with a stack of crisply folded sheets. I called to her. She was startled but didn’t drop the sheets. I can’t imagine how much time she spent ironing them.

  After a brief conversation in broken English I convinced her to follow me to the library. Upon seeing Jai Li, she nodded and mimed me picking up the girl.

  When I lifted her she snuggled close, burying her face into my shoulder. I followed the maid to a part of the mansion I’d not visited before and found one of the servant’s quarters. It was nearly a barracks. By the size of things, it housed mostly children. The maid directed me to where the girl slept, and I gently settled the child into her bed.

  Jai Li looked up at me as I straightened, blinking rapidly. I bent over and kissed her on the forehead. She smiled, pulled the blankets up to her chin, and rolled over. The maid watched the entire scene with shock and amazement. I smiled at her, and she returned it shyly before trundling off.

  I lagged behind, staring around at the small personal space Jai Li commanded. She had a small bed, a locker of sorts that was made of carved wood, and a chest at the foot of the bed. Each of the children had a similar setup. Not much space for personal effects, but Jai Li had the wall behind her bed covered in pictures. Many of them were done in watercolors, but there were pencil sketches and two different needlepoints that had been framed.

  Most were of people. One was a sad picture of two girls, hand in hand, flying over a field of red flowers. The girls were obviously Jai Li and her twin, Mei Hau. They were so alike, yet I could tell a difference in the two girls by the subtle differences in the colors.

  Next to Jai Li was an empty bed with two pictures on the wall, both of flowers—hyacinths and tulips. The bed was made and the locker stood open, empty. This was Mei Hau’s place, and the emptiness of it was like a spike in my chest.

  I left the quarters, my heart heavy. Several other children were at their places, quietly reading or playing with simple toys. Most were empty as the children were off performing some duty. Mei Hau’s was not the only abandoned place. I counted five others that were vacated, forlorn.

  I couldn’t leave there fast enough. The maid stood outside the door waiting for me. When I emerged she bade me follow her. She paused at a large walk-in closet and deposited the sheets she’d been carrying and then led me back to the kitchen.

  Once I was ensconced with a cup of strong, black tea, the maid hurried out, motioning for me to stay. In a couple of minutes she returned with Zi Xiu in tow. The two women sat with me, sharing a plate of sliced apples and more of the dark tea.

  Through Zi Xiu’s interpretation we discussed Jai Li: how she has grown melancholy since the death of her twin and how she’d been more and more rebellious, even openly defying Nidhogg. Not once, but twice.

  They feared for her, feared the retribution Nidhogg would impose on the girl when she finally crossed the line. None of the other children had ever transgressed—not in the lifetimes of these two women. It was not Nidhogg’s way to be indulgent, but since the black day when mistress had taken her true form and killed so many, things had shifted in the house.

  Qindra had held the house together, kept a balance between the kind Nidhogg, the gentle grandmother of them all, and the angry, spiteful monster she became, sometimes quite literally.

  I was amazed to hear them speak so bluntly about the situation in the house. When I inquired, they both spoke at once. It was the girl and the kindness I’d shown her. If not for that they would have remained silent.

  When we had run out of things to speak about, the scullery maid returned to her duties and Zi Xiu showed me back to the library. I needed to wrap up soon. Katie would start to worry.

  I spent another hour looking through the grimoire I’d found. I copied down several sets of runes to discuss with Jimmy and Rolph. There was so much here. We could’ve studied this book for a long while and not figured out everything it had to offer.

  My eyes had begun to burn, and I really needed to go to the bathroom. I got up and flipped through the rest of the book just to get a glimpse of the rest. Near the back I found a little song. The words didn’t make any sense, but the notes were clear enough. I copied down the stanzas, totally oblivious to their meaning. I was sure Katie could figure it out. A note scribbled in the margin stated the song would show the truth of things. That sounded like a cool thing to know.

  I put the book back where I’d found it and headed to the bathroom. It had been a good day, in many ways.

  Minutes later, as I made my way through the winding halls toward the entranceway, Nidhogg stepped from her grand hall. She did not say a word, just held her hand out to me. I stepped to her, fished the second key from my pocket, and handed it over. She slipped the braided cord over her neck, tucked the key inside her blouse, and turned, dismissing me with a wave of her ancient hand.

  I didn’t look back, just turned on my heel and walked across the foyer. I paused once to look over at the gate that blocked the rest of the world from Qindra’s rooms.

  Soon, I promised, I’d be handing the key to her. She belonged here. Th
is was her domain, not mine. The people in this house needed her too much.

  Forty-eight

  The whelp, Charlie Hague, sat in the stuffy house sipping the too-sweet tea the old woman had insisted he drink. Madame Gottschalk sat buried in cats and nattered on about the weather. The formalities were irrelevant; it was the ritual that mattered. Best to cleanse the traveler before engaging in clandestine conversation in case someone had discovered their meet.

  When the tea was drunk, Madame Gottschalk waved at the boy. “Begin,” she ordered.

  “We bugged the main house out at Black Briar just after the ritual murders. If their planning anything specific, it’s not obvious to our agents.”

  She listened intently, stroking her favorite tabby.

  “While they have stumbled around in the last half a year or more, they have uncovered a new artifact of some ilk. We do not fully know the nature of this item, but it is tied to Paul Cornett in some fashion. There is a safety deposit box we are aware of. James Cornett, the son and current leader of the Black Briar clan, visited that box recently and retrieved an item. If they are utilizing it, we have no indications.”

  “And the girl?”

  “She remains a mystery. We know the necromancer is targeting those around her, whether to elicit fear or to reduce her support base. We have not been able to determine the connection between all those murdered in similar fashion.” He paused, considering. “There is other news. We have word that Frederick Sawyer is in the city.”

  “Well, well,” Madame Gottschalk said, tapping the arm of her chair. “A king moves onto the board. Shall we see a response from the queen?”

  Charlie shrugged. “We do know there is a connection between the girl and Nidhogg. I do not get the impression she loves the great beasts, especially if the rumors of her hand in Jean-Paul’s demise prove to be true.”

  Madame Gottschalk cackled. “Easier to believe Nidhogg or Sawyer killed him than believe a simple girl had the power to take down one of their kind.”

  “I beg to differ,” Charlie said, obviously agitated. “We have underestimated things in the past. What if it’s true?” He leaned forward, elbows on knees. “Can you imagine?”

  “Blasphemy,” she bellowed, sending cats scrambling off her lap. “Speak no foolishness in this home, silly boy.”

  This was not a new argument. Charlie lowered his gaze, grimacing.

  “You are young and eager,” she went on, settling back in her chair. “Revolution appeals to your generation, as it did mine, when I was as wet behind the ears as you are.” She paused, considering other revolutions, other powers vying for control in a world of chaos. “Trust me. They killed Rasputin, the fools, and we see what happened to the Romanovs in the end.”

  “Shall I contact the blacksmith again, or do you have other orders?”

  “I want you to contact young James Cornett. Perhaps it is time to bring him into the fold. They are a menace where they are. Either we bring them in and allow him to replace his father in the order or we need to eliminate them as a threat to Bestellen von Mordred.”

  He stood and knelt at her feet, taking her hand and kissing her knuckles. “It shall be as you say, Seiðr.”

  Once the door shut behind him and the room no longer reverberated with his energy, the grey tabby jumped atop the table and spoke.

  “This haven is at risk, grandmother. I fear all our plans may be destroyed by this foolish clan of ruffians.”

  “Perhaps you are correct,” Madame Gottschalk offered. “I will consult with my sister, Jaga.”

  The cat yawned, stretching her entire body. “Does she still live in that ridiculous hut outside Minsk?”

  Madame Gottschalk shooed the cats away. “Mind yourself.”

  She sat back and sipped her tea. Things were amiss in the realms. There were echoes of energy she had never felt before. First in the spring, just before Jean-Paul was killed, and twice more in the last several months. She needed to perform a scrying, throw the runes, maybe even read some entrails. She looked at the cat a moment and dismissed the idea. Chickens told better futures, in any case.

  Forty-nine

  I convinced Katie to join me for dinner out at Black Briar so we could discuss all the notes I’d taken at Nidhogg’s place. She had mostly forgiven Jimmy, but there was still something niggling there, something she wouldn’t open up to me about. I figured she was due some privacy. It just wasn’t like her.

  We had a full crew for grub: Anezka, Gunther, Stuart, Deidre, Jimmy, Katie, and me. Oh, and Bub. Gunther thought he’d make a good addition to the conversation, even though Deidre was not sure their dishes could afford his indiscriminate definition of food and foodlike substances.

  I was pleasantly surprised when Gunther and Anezka cooked for us. They made tacos, which went over well with Bub. I’m not sure it wasn’t his idea originally. He loved Mexican.

  The meal went by quickly. I cleared the table while they passed my notes around. I’d made a couple of copies, so we didn’t have to share all the way around.

  The first thing I wanted to know about was the symbol I’d seen on Charlie Hague. Visions were something I would’ve laughed about a year ago. But no more.

  “Definitely the symbol of an order,” Gunther said. “I’ll run it by some of my friends in the monastery, but I believe I know this group.”

  “Aye,” Jimmy said. “I’ve seen this mentioned in one of Mom’s journals. It was pretty sparse, mostly short, cryptic notes about meetings. But I thought it funny that a group would use something so obviously linked with the Illuminati.”

  Neither Bub nor Anezka had a clue, and neither Katie nor I could add anything. Deidre just went into the other room, declaring a hoodoo-free evening for herself. “I’ve got better stuff stacked on my DVR,” she said and showed us the back of her.

  The song I found caught their attention, though. Katie got out one of her guitars and plucked out the tune. It was a bit discordant, low tones, with a steady rhythm that felt like drums in the deep. That’s how she described it. Conjuring up something best left unsummoned. Once she thought she had the basic through line down, she added the words.

  For a moment, things got really creepy. My vision shifted, like the other morning. Everything in the room had a different level of energy, a different color palette and hue. Bub glowed, as did Katie.

  “Can you see that?” Katie asked the room. Everyone shook their head. Everyone but me. Katie smiled at me and motioned with her head. Katie walked down the hall, and the door to the basement was outlined in sparkling squiggles. She laughed. “It’s like in Dungeons and Dragons,” she said, pausing in her singing. “It reveals hidden things.”

  We compared notes. She saw the highlight around the hidden door, but not the glow around her or Bub. That was interesting. The song had triggered my walkabout vision, but she could see some of it while she was singing. She wanted to continue down the hall to the bedrooms, but Jimmy put a stop to that. “Some things are personal,” he groused. I didn’t want to know what he and Deidre had hidden in their bedroom, and after a second it dawned on Katie that she didn’t either. Stuart just sniggered at us.

  The music was haunting, not unlike that song by Objekt 775 I loved so much. They were an obscure band but had a wide range of punk and rock in their repertoire.

  We had a big time with it, laughing and kidding around about what folks wanted to keep hidden, when Katie noticed something else. There were three points in the house that glowed faintly when exposed to the song. It wasn’t a long song, so Katie had to sing it over and over.

  The three spots were surprising: the smoke alarm in the hallway, a spot over the back door, and one in the living room, over the fireplace.

  Stuart pulled down the smoke alarm and found a tiny camera installed. The spot in the kitchen held a listening device, and the living room had both.

  Someone had bugged the damn house. Katie stopped singing after twenty-seven times through, saying her throat was hurting.

  �
�Unbelievable,” Jimmy said, taking a pocket knife to the drywall above the fireplace. “When could someone have bugged this place? We’re always here, or at least someone is.”

  He looked to Gunther and Stuart. “Pretty sophisticated stuff,” Stuart said. “Not government issue, but damn close. Private market, but high-end.”

  He dropped them on the tile floor in the kitchen and ground his boot down on top of them. “Somebody’s in for a surprise,” he said.

  We grabbed Deidre and filled her in. She agreed to go around with Katie and me to search the house, but shooed everyone else out. “Too crowded in some of the rooms,” she said.

  We worked our way through the top of the house. Deidre’s nightstand glowed, but she opened the drawer before we could stop her. We didn’t need to see whatever sex toys she kept.

  There were no other bugs in the upstairs, but there was a book in the den that glowed. Deidre flipped through it and found three loose pages tucked in between the pages of the book. They were written in a small, tight script that Katie recognized as her mother’s.

  They were lists of Christmas presents from when Katie was two. She sat down in the living room and cried over them.

  I sat with her, taking the guitar and letting her cry. This was something even Jimmy didn’t know existed. “Keep them,” Deidre said. “They can be your secret.”

  In the margins were little notes and measurements. Dresses for Katie, books for Jim. And some things for her father that made her smile. A new flashlight, underwear, and silk pajamas. She folded the pages carefully and put them in her shirt pocket.

  I let her cry on my shoulder, but when she pulled away she was covered in blood.

  “Jim?” Deidre called, rolling her chair to the kitchen. “Get in here!”