by Caleb James
Her head shot back, and she sprang to her feet.
He had no time to back away but did not strike her as she tried to claw at his face. The ogres intervened and gripped her arms and shackled her hands behind her back.
“Lock her away,” Redmond instructed. He watched as she tried to gather her magic, her clothes and hair now a fluid mess, leaving her naked in parts and dressed in a patchwork of fabrics and fashions.
“Tell us what we’re seeing,” Luluba said.
“That which cannot, and should not, be fixed. We shall lock her up, for there are those who would still follow her, though I don’t think our prior precautions will be necessary.”
He looked to the ogres. “But take no risks. If you come upon any fairy dust, do not touch it. Seal it up tight so that we may dispose of it. Now get her out of here.”
“You can’t do this,” May protested as one ogre gripped her by her bound wrists and the other laid a guiding hand on her shoulder. “You will pay. You will all pay.”
“We already have,” Redmond said. “You are not to leave her side until I come,” he shouted after the ogres as they led her away. While things might never return to business as usual, ogres needed clear instructions. It was best to leave nothing to interpretation. He wondered if his grumpy captain of the guard had survived.
“There are so many dead,” Seamus murmured.
His words sparked a swirl of emotion within Redmond. A stranger to committing cruel acts, he stared at the tiny creature he’d killed. Its blood had turned from green to an acid yellow, its innards laid bare. He took his sword, and knowing that salamanders were creatures of resurrection, he crouched and methodically chopped it like a prep chef into smaller and smaller pieces. His work was interrupted by something hot and wet on the nape of his neck.
Startled, he whipped his head around to find his beautiful hound, albeit hairless. It lapped at his face. “Finn!” He nearly fell backward as he dropped his sword and struggled to his feet. “Finn!”
The massive dog wrapped his front legs around Redmond’s shoulders.
“Finn!” His fingers played over the silken stubble as they embraced. He breathed in the warm musk of his two-natured lover. “You came back. You came back to me,” he whispered into the Hound’s strong neck. “You are the hero of this tale, and I love you.”
Braced on his hind legs and Redmond’s shoulders, the Hound’s focus shifted to the dismembered salamander. He barked and freed himself from Finn.
His back arched as he circled the mangled salamander remains. He sniffed the ground and then positioned himself over the once-great monster. He raised his right hind leg and pissed on it. As the stream met blood and guts, there was a loud sizzle, and flashes of sharp white light cut apart what remained. Magic rippled in the air as all that was left vanished.
At a distance, a crowd of fey several deep stood or hovered around the spectacle in the square. The rain had stopped. The sirens had gone silent.
“We have no queen,” someone whispered. The words carried as though he’d shouted.
“She is not dead,” someone responded.
“She will come back.”
“She will want blood.”
“She will eat us all.”
“No.” Redmond picked up his sword, and with soothing magic and honeyed words, he brought comfort through the fear. “May is not fit to rule. Here or anywhere. She is forever broken. She will not and cannot come back. And you have my word that she will never harm another soul.” The last words he wondered at. But he mused, The fey don’t lie, so that must be the truth.
Forty
LIGHTNING STRIKES and thunderclaps exploded from the Mist. Finn, still in the form of the Hound, stuck close to Redmond. Having been separated once, he vowed it would not happen again.
Redmond was his for now and forever. He sniffed the air. The cloying sweet stench of fairy fire was gone. Good. Something new approached, a blend of ozone, metal, and an emotion that made his limbs feel heavy. He pressed his flank against Redmond’s legs and shook his snout. The Mist comes. He looked up as it rolled across the Western Sea and onto dry land.
Screams of fear arose from the Center. “We are doomed!”
“She was all that kept the Mist at bay. This is her revenge.”
“It will devour us!”
“We should not have betrayed our queen.”
Redmond groaned. His voice warmed the Hound, who wanted to say I love you but barked instead. Close enough.
Redmond whispered in his ear. “This is the curse of we fey. Freed from a despot and they already see the next terror.”
The Hound shivered and shook off his animal form. Finn, albeit hairless and naked, wrapped Redmond tight and looked around at the hundreds of fey in varying shapes, colors, species, and sizes. Where he’d peed on the salamander remains, the marble cobblestone glistened as though freshly washed.
“Come,” he told Redmond. “Let’s face this new adventure together.”
Redmond turned into him and stroked his shaved head. “Your hair.” He slid his hand down to Finn’s now smooth chest.
Unconcerned by his nakedness, Finn cocked an eyebrow as another part of his anatomy rose. “I’ll explain it all. Apparently, there’s a bit of fur in my pee.”
Redmond smacked the side of his head. “Of course. I should have known.”
“Do tell,” Finn replied, savoring each moment with Redmond.
“You are the catalyst. The thing that changes everything but unto itself remains the same.”
Finn chuckled. “I thought you guys didn’t know chemistry.”
“We don’t. It’s alchemy.”
“It’s the same where I come from. A catalyst can be used over and over to make a reaction occur.”
“And that is what you are.” He gripped Finn’s hand tight. “You are mine, at least for this life. You have changed me. But when my life or your human life has run its course, you, the Hound, go on.” He chuckled.
“Tell me,” Finn said.
“I see the joke in it.”
“I wondered if you would.”
Redmond flicked Finn’s nose with thumb and forefinger. “You think me dim.”
“Never. I just thought it was a human thing.”
“Hair of the dog,” Redmond groaned. “It’s obvious once you see the thing. When… if… we come through this next adventure, tell me how it was done.”
“Of course, but you’ve got the gist of it.”
“And more,” Redmond whispered, one hand on Finn’s broad chest, the other wrapped around the nape of his neck.
“Everything. We will have time for everything.”
“One hopes,” Redmond said as lightning cracked the sky.
Finn turned toward the sea and the rapidly approaching wall of mist. His breath caught. “It’s just one thing after another.”
“Yes.”
The Mist, which had rolled like a juggernaut toward the Center, now halted and spread against the distant edge of the broad moat. Behind it, all was concealed.
Its advancing arm, like an amoeba’s pseudopod, rose up hundreds of feet. At its base an opening the size of a door appeared, and a broad, wispy tongue formed a bridge across the water.
“We are doomed,” an elf muttered as she gathered her brood and hid them in her skirts.
Luluba approached Redmond. She appeared torn between this new danger and the curiosity of her professor’s naked and human boyfriend.
Finn smiled at her. “I don’t bite… much.” But he too was riveted by the tiny speck at the base of the Mist, where something solid waited, like an actor behind a curtain.
Finn looked through the breached wall toward Engine Twenty-Five, now parked and silent.
Someone had turned its flashers back on. Next to it stood the group he’d crossed over with, and a few yards away from them, its focus on the Mist, was the puka. He trained his hound senses, ever more accessible, onto the puka. Who he’d come to realize, like May’s salamander, was no
t necessarily in its true form. The black mare was more like a shell or comfortable costume. She had no fear, but other emotions caught in Finn’s ears and his nostrils—excitement, anticipation… and even. She’s aroused.
“Tell me,” Redmond said.
“I think we’re okay. Whatever is about to happen, I think we’re okay.”
Charlie jogged over to Finn and Redmond. He stopped every few yards to glance back at the wall of milky blue that rose from the distant meadow and obliterated much of the sky.
He gave Finn an appreciative nod. “I cannot get over how buff you got.”
Before Finn could respond, Charlie held out a hand to Redmond. “I’m Charlie Fitzgerald. Finn and I go way back.”
The two shook. Finn smiled at the gesture, and as he often did, inventoried the similarities between Charlie and Rory. Only now, this was pure Charlie and everything he loved about him and what he represented. A guy who ran into buildings on fire for a living. Sure, they might all be facing death… again, but what mattered to him was coming over to meet Redmond.
Charlie whispered, “I’m glad you found each other. Love is awesome! Finn, we’d all but given up on you.”
“’Tis true,” Redmond replied as two female figures appeared before the mist bridge.
Katye, all in pink with her strawberry-blonde hair falling below her waist, and Lizbeta in a shimmery blue-black gown comprised of fairies no larger than pinheads, each of them holding a thin strand of mist that trailed behind her like a wedding train.
Gasps filled the square. “The Sisters.”
“It’s the Sisters. We are doomed.”
“They will take revenge. They will eat us all!”
“For the love of God,” Finn muttered. “You are a gloomy lot.”
“Yes and no,” Redmond replied. “It’s a basic fey defense. If you expect the worst, you’re never disappointed, and sometimes you get a good surprise.”
“Not just fey,” Charlie replied. “Lots of humans are like that. But not me.” He stared at Katye and Lizbeta, both of whom he’d met. “Something big is about to happen.” He glanced toward Liam, who met his gaze. He beckoned with his head for him to join them. Liam shook his head.
“Oh, for Pete’s sake!” Charlie shouted. “Liam, get over here.”
“I can’t,” Liam replied. “I am not invited.”
Redmond’s gaze narrowed as he turned from the approaching fairy queens, who daintily glided across the bridge. “I know that creature.”
“Watch it, buddy. His name is Liam. He’s my boyfriend.”
“He is changed.”
“He is brave, and he is sweet,” Charlie replied.
“You know his past.”
“I do, and don’t you dare throw that in his face. You don’t know what he’s been through and why he did the things he did.”
“True.” Redmond looked from Charlie to the approaching queens to Liam and the others by the flashing red beast. “Liam Summer,” he shouted. “You are welcome here, as are all of your companions.” His gaze strayed to the puka, a creature he had studied at length but never once seen. “I extend my hospitality to all of you. Be my guests, and stay for a day or stay forever.”
Before Gran, Liam, or any of them could take him up on the offer, the two sisters floated past them and stopped before the crumbling wall.
Lizbeta raised a hand that seemed tethered to the mist. Silence and calm washed over all.
It was like fairy dust, minus the drug. Both she and Katye turned in unison, stopping to give a little nod to each of those by the fire engine, to the puka, to Redmond and Finn, and even to Luluba and Seamus.
Katye pointed at Alice. She whispered to Lizbeta, who in turn nodded and then spoke. “You have done well. Now bring us our sister. Bring us May.”
Forty-One
REDMOND TURNED to Gark, who to his great relief had escaped the dust and helped hundreds of inhabitants flee through the tunnels. “Do as Lizbeta asks. But take no risks.”
“Yes, Doctor.”
As they waited, Lizbeta and Katye wandered outside the walls of the Center. “You are welcome to enter,” Redmond offered.
“Thank you, but no,” Katye said as she stood next to the puka and stroked its broad back.
“They’re not really here,” Finn told him.
“Tell me.”
“I can smell it, and look how Lizbeta is still covered in mist. She’s here, but she’s also elsewhere. As for Katye, observe how the light around her is not of this realm. Her scent is not of here but of my world. Though I don’t think she’s there either.”
While he’d not intended for his words to carry, Katye responded. “You have grown into the Hound.” She gave his naked form a slow once-over. “You suit one another.” She smiled as she caught the glances between him and Redmond. She nodded. “May this life of yours be long and filled with happiness. It is possible. Love makes everything possible.”
A loud belch emanated from within Engine Twenty-Five. It was followed by three more. “What the hell—” Jerod started to say before Alex clamped a hand on his mouth.
He licked Alex’s fingers as a sustained baritone cry came from under one of the benches in the back of the fire engine.
“Stop that.” Alex pulled back his hand and wiped it on his pants.
“No questions.” He climbed back into the fire engine and searched in the cubbies and under the seats for the source of the noise. “We had a stowaway,” he yelled back as a giant blue-and-green African bullfrog hopped into the doorway and then leapt to the ground.
“Lance!” Katye cried out and would have come to his side if not for her sister’s restraining hand.
“We cannot. He cannot,” Lizbeta said. “We must be resolute.”
“Yes.” Tears popped in the corners of Katye’s eyes as Lance bounded toward her. He made as if to leap into her arms, but where he should have connected with something solid, he passed through as if she were not there. He landed on the ground, shook his head, and tried a second and third time. With each try, he croaked, thumped his meaty hind legs, and wailed.
Katye crumpled to the ground, her gaze torn between her frog lover and her sister. “Please,” she implored Lizbeta.
“It cannot be. You know this.”
Katye crouched on the ground at eye level with Lance. “I am sorry, my love. So sorry.” Her words choked in her throat. “We end here.” She clutched her belly as Lance howled and hopped toward her, his every effort to make contact thwarted by her lack of substance.
Gark returned with May and the two ogres who’d escorted her away. At a cautious distance, a parade of fey followed.
The restrained May appeared old. Her skin hung from her bones, and deep bags were etched beneath her amber eyes. Her clothes were like something a child might throw together when playing dress-up in her mother’s closet, only they continued to change with mismatched shoes and pants and dresses that were sometimes on her body and would then twist and shift to become turbans and scarves on her head and around her neck. She strained against the shackles that confined her hands and immobilized her fingers from working magic.
The crowd gasped. She sneered and shouted at them. “You are nothing without a ruler. The Mist will devour you all.”
A pixie cried, “It is a curse. She is cursing us!”
“She cannot,” Lizbeta said as she approached May and the guards. “Sister.” She placed a restraining but gentle hand on May’s shoulder. Strands of mist wafted from her fingers and wrapped around May. It calmed the disarray of her clothes as a tidy little black dress, complete with kitten-heel pumps and an updo, arranged themselves. “Our time has run its course, sister.” Lizbeta’s gaze landed on Alex, Adam, and Alice Nevus. She raised a mist-trailing arm and pointed to them. “There. You… Marilyn Nevus. You are the mother of kings and of the girl who went down the hole.”
“Yes. That is true,” Marilyn said with caution in her voice.
Lizbeta’s extended hand moved like a compass p
ointer. It passed over Marilyn, Alex, and Adam, and rested on Alice.
“Yes,” Katye said, still crouched near Lance. “It is for that one.”
“Agreed,” Lizbeta replied.
Alice did not move as the sisters studied her. Free from her previous dust addiction, her eyes were blue and clear as a summer sky. “Tell me,” she said.
“Alice, it is for you to take the throne, as it was intended. Learn from May’s mistakes… and from ours. Choose your court wisely, though I think much of that is done.” She made eye contact with each of those who had come through.
As her gaze landed on Flora, a tiny silver pixie shrieked, “It’s Flora Fitzgerald! It’s our Flora!”
Flora’s head whipped around. “I know that voice.”
Before the words had left her mouth, a flock of tiny pixies, most of them silver but a few with skin of copper and gold, swarmed around her. “Flora Flora Flora. It’s you we adore-ah. Flora Flora Flora, you never could conform-ah. Flora Flora Flora, it is you we shall transform-ah.”
Flora’s eyes were bright as she held out her fingers like perches and whispered forgotten names to the tiny creatures who alit. “Hyacinth. Melba. Spring Grass. Frog Toe.”
Around her silver-haired head, the pixies sang. Their words blurred together as the beating of their wings cast a milky opal haze. Strands of colored silk flew between their tiny fingers, and like a macramé project gone mad, fabric formed.
Despite her heartache, Katye pointed and clapped. “A pixie cocoon. They weave a cocoon.”
“Gran!” Charlie shouted. “Get out of there.” He raced to her side, but the whirr of wings created a solid wall he could not penetrate. “Gran. Get out!”
“No, Charlie,” she shouted from inside the thickening wall of multicolored silk. “It’s beautiful, Charlie.” Her voice grew soft. She giggled.
Liam came to Charlie’s side. “It’s okay… I think.”
“Gran.” Charlie pawed at the dense fabric, his fingers tangled in the limbs and wings of manic pixies, who’d stop for a millisecond, waggle a finger, and then get back to their weaving. “Gran.”
