by Luna Lindsey
A light of recognition came to Jett’s face as she reviewed past events. “Then… how could he…?”
“Last night, I… I gave the amulet back to Sandy. Threw it at her actually, right before I left. He was waiting outside.”
Jett came to her feet, eyes narrowed, fists clenched. “His blood will run beneath my fingers! I…” The energy left her and she sat back down. “My little flower, he could have had you last night, when I thought you were protected. It was right of you to come here. I must protect you now.” Jett took Jina’s hand and kissed it. Her lips felt hot. “You are faestricken, and his curse is killing you.”
Jina remembered Trey’s chilblains. “He did something like this before, to Trey. Once we’d gotten away from Pogswoth, Trey started warming up. But… obviously that’s not working this time.”
Jett nodded. “This spell is more powerful.”
“I was hoping you would know how to reverse it.” Jina sipped at her third cup of hot chocolate.
“The curse is set. Only Pogswoth can break it.”
“The same way only you can break whatever curse you’ve laid on Sandy?”
“Yes.”
“So let’s go get him. Pogswoth. You’ve got magic. We can find out where he lives, and make him lift this thing.”
Jett looked almost ashamed. “Pogswoth is not entirely under my control. Were he someone else, I could order him to cease, but you’ve seen him scoff at what was once my power. Many of the trooping faeries, and the solitary, have been infected by this rugged individualism you people are so proud of.”
Jina sat forward. “It weakens your magic?”
“I draw my glamour from bloodline and status. Pogswoth truly thinks he is my equal, so my power over him is diluted. It would be easier if he were a nykk, but his human blaosc gives him some of the same powers of belief and disbelief that you have. Culture creates the riverbed. The dream follows, and as faeborn, he can choose to ride that current, to flow away from the old ways.”
Jina gripped the mug in her hands. “So the only thing that can save me is for Pogswoth to suddenly change his mind?”
“There is one magic which is stronger,” Jett said tentatively, sitting next to her and caressing Jina’s hand.
“A geas?”
Jett nodded.
“No,” Jina said. “There must be some other way.”
“You have nothing to fear,” Jett said. “It is the way it has always been done. Many of the great artists in time have had a muse.”
“Or the muse has had them?”
Jett frowned. “They have lived full lives, all of them, more free than most men on earth who slave for human feudal lords or corporate management.”
“And I have slaved for none of them.”
“You did not slave for Sandy?”
Jett was more right than Jina wanted to let on. “I know why you came down those stairs last night,” she said, changing the subject. “It was my song, wasn’t it?”
Jett did not answer.
“I’m a dreamer, right? I can sway him. I’ll just write a song and make him release me.”
Jett held her silence for a long time, until Jina waved her hand in front of Jett’s eyes.
“It will not work on him,” she finally said.
“Why not? I’m right, aren’t I? That’s what finally softened you.”
“I will only say… that some fae are more susceptible to the tug of a dreamer than others.”
So that was it. That was what Jina had seen when Jett had plumbed the depths of her mind. Jina had a power over the elf. No wonder she wanted to bind Jina to her command as soon as possible.
Jina spoke slowly, hesitantly. “Sandy would know how to remove a faerie curse.”
“Would she? She cannot lift the curse I placed on her, nor unstrike the faestroke against you.”
“But she—”
“You may not cross her threshold, Jina.” Jett’s voice held a finality that reverberated through Jina’s soul, and Jina knew if she had sworn a geas earlier that night, she would be bound by Jett’s command. Not that it mattered. She couldn’t leave the brugh anyway. Jett had seen to that.
“Did you break her phone, too?” Jina asked.
“No. But I would ask you not to call.”
In defiance, Jina dialed Sandy’s number right then. Her fingers were numb as she held the phone to her ear.
“Pick up, pick up,” she said.
She heard Sandy’s voice on the other end of the line, telling her to leave a message.
CHAPTER 46
*
THE SUN WAS SETTING. Sandy didn’t know the meaning of tired.
She sat on the back porch, Scotch in hand, shotgun across her lap. Now and then, a new faerie would creep into the backyard, and she’d play whack-a-mole. Right now, she had the all-time high score.
The nykk bodies had all dissolved into a pale blue mist that pooled between the brick walls and the garage, all that remained of the hundreds she must have killed since sunrise. It leak out around the side yard to the front, where it dissipated on the street like an old fog.
Sandy looked at the golden liquor in her glass and mused. The alcohol hadn’t impaired her. If anything, it made her stronger. Hollis and Gretel had worn out hours before, and were fast asleep in their individual beds, but she was still kicking.
They had killed every faerie who dared come to her door, except those who had hidden out of sight on her roof. When the other two woke up, they would storm the gates at Jett’s house, wherever she lived, and rescue Jina.
Her stomach growled and she realized she hadn’t eaten all day. She rose, stretching her sore muscles, and limped into the kitchen for a bowl of cereal.
They were out of milk.
No matter. A hamburger would really hit the spot, and there were a number of good restaurants just a few blocks away. Jina had said she should get out more, and suddenly it didn’t seem so frightening. The walk and some food would do some good to clear her mind, and she could get some milk on the way home.
Sandy washed back the rest of her Scotch. She couldn’t take the shotgun, not without drawing attention, but she had a little iron knife she hid under her belt. And she also had her iron medallion.
She opened the door and it creaked on its hinges. She took a step into the darkness. The fae out front must have shorted the streetlights.
Blue mist swirled around her feet, spent glamour, all that remained of the dead fae. There was so much of it here. It had flowed like water all down the street in a thin layer merely an inch deep. By morning it would probably seep into the ground to mix with the dew, or get washed away by the next rain.
As she walked she stumbled a few times. She must have had a lot to drink this time. Sandy remembered quitting, but somewhere along the line, she’d started up again. It didn’t matter. The Scotch kept her going. It was her battery.
At the end of the block, the streetlights were working again. But the one above her flickered on and off erratically as she passed.
Something scurried behind a parked car to her left. Probably not a raccoon. Were there still more faeries? Let them stalk her. She’d only shoot it when she got home. Target practice for when she got to Jett’s and opened up on anything that moved. Except Jina, of course. Jina she’d bring home safe and sound.
Ahead of her, she heard a clatter and thump, like the lid of a plastic garbage bin slamming shut. The next streetlight flickered, and she walked a little faster.
Beside her came a sound like warping metal, like something smashing into a car. She glanced quickly towards it, and could see a parked Mercedes in the shadows. A circular dent, about the size of a dead cat, marred the top of the trunk. The metal screeched, and eight little scratch marks appeared in the burgundy paint at the edge of the dent. Then she heard another screech, but it wasn’t the metal.
Clutching her medallion, she stepped closer, and the streetlight flickered on to reveal a hunched animal with leathery wings and goblintine face. It sn
arled at her, but did not approach.
The sound of rattling came from the garbage cans again. She heard something slide down the telephone pole and land in a pool of flickering streetlight in the grass behind her. It was no less ugly than any she had shot that day.
Sandy held her medallion out towards the one on the trunk and muttered a quick warding spell. It backed away as it guarded its face with sinewy arms.
She had no need to fear. Of course the wards would protect her. Fuck Jett. The Ordo had the upper hand.
She turned and marched onward towards Broadway and the warm lights and signs just a few more blocks away. She could hear them skittering behind her, four or five nykks, dumb brute things, following her but unable to get at her.
Let them try.
But she could still see them. Her wards couldn’t protect her eyes. She’d spent so much time trying to see into Tir Nan Og, a skill any decent faerie hunter should have. They were repulsive, frightening. It was a truth every child learned though fairytales – be careful what you wish for.
A woman walked the other direction on the opposite side of the street. Sandy barely noticed until she crossed over, heading directly towards her. Maybe this was her car parked here.
Then Sandy realized this woman wore familiar clothes, and gave Sandy the same feeling she got looking in mirrors.
“You must go home,” the woman said. Sandy recognized her at last. She was staring at herself. “It is not safe out here. You are safer at home.”
“Leave me alone,” Sandy said, brushing the doppelgänger aside.
“I want to go home,” the fetch said. “Just let me in the front door.” She tugged at Sandy’s sleeve. Her breath stank of alcohol.
“No!” Sandy said, shaking her off.
“Let me help you, then. I’ll kill them for you.”
“That’s crazy. You’re one of them. You’re a faerie.”
Her double stopped in place. “I… am not.” Her image blinked into a shapeless form and then back to a reflection of Sandy.
“Think about it,” Sandy said. “You are me, and you’re talking to me. How is that possible unless you aren’t real?”
Sandy watched her own lip quiver. “It isn’t true. I’m… I’m…” She blinked again. “Trapped.”
Sandy spun on her heels, leaving herself behind, storming on to Broadway, angry now.
“Please!” She heard her own voice behind her. “You have to help me! They’re everywhere, and I can’t go into my house. Something prevents it. I could try to kill them, but iron… for some reason it burns me.”
Sandy rounded on the fetch. “It burns you because you are a faerie! Go away and leave me alone.”
A number of other fae had gathered to watch – those who had been following Sandy, plus others who came from the direction of her house, who seemed to now realize Sandy was no longer inside.
The doppelgänger looked around at them nervously.
“You can’t even have mercy on yourself?” she asked.
There was something dangerous in her words, something far more terrifying than the hideous creatures who gathered to watch this stage drama. Sandy grit her teeth, and turned away. She could see the lights of the busy street just ahead. Another block.
Behind her, she heard herself say, “Then kill me. Stab me through and I will plague you no more.”
Sandy trudged on, heedless.
“Oh god, get off me. Go away, you filthy, horrible things!”
Let her distract them, then. The fewer uglies she had to look at, the better her dinner would go down.
She ducked into the first place she came to, some bar, DeLux something. She let her shoulders relax a little. There was an empty table towards the back, and rather than wait to be seated, she seated herself, not bothering to take off her jacket. She glanced at the door fearfully, and then looked at the drink menu. Five had not fallen for the ruse. They sat just inside, by the front door, waiting for her.
Something moved before her eyes, and Sandy jumped. It was just the waitress, handing her a menu.
“I know what I want. Just bring me a glass of Glenlivet and a burger. Leave the menu.”
“On the rocks?”
“No.”
“Be right back.”
Sandy opened the menu and stared at it, trying to ignore everyone, especially the five figures which had followed her in. She muttered another warding spell under her breath.
Her drink couldn’t arrive quickly enough. When it did, she slugged it back and ordered another.
The Scotch made her think of Jina. Hollis had said she’d gone of her own free will. Jina herself said Jett was her girlfriend. But Jina would never turncoat, not like that. She wouldn’t join their side willingly without some kind of deception or coercive magic.
Sandy caught someone gazing at her from the closest pool table. She recognized Jina’s fan, the korrigan who’d showed up at her door three weeks before. Pogswoth. This time, she saw the real him.
He was staring at her now, like the nykks at the door. She wished she could unsee them all, and she tried, but where the alcohol normally helped her hide, now it made her see. Memories flooded back, of her lecturing Jina on the benefits of sobriety in battling fae illusions, years ago in Haun’s house.
Sandy fingered her amulet as a reminder that she would be safe.
She sought safety behind the menu, although she could feel his giant’s eyes upon her, bugging out from his oversized, wrinkly head.
And then he came towards her, pool cue still in hand.
Sandy couldn’t take it anymore. Her experiment with getting out more often was over. She reached into her coat pocket and grabbed her wallet.
“It seems you have a problem,” he was saying to her. He motioned his head towards the faeries that blocked her exit. “What Jett done to you ain’t right.” He licked his bleeding lips.
They couldn’t hurt her. She pulled out a faded twenty and threw it on the table. If she ran fast enough, she could brush past them. The iron should protect her long enough to get home.
“She shouldn’t push people around like that,” the korrigan rambled. “Bé Chuille. Princess Jett, I mean. People like you and me could put her in her place. I can help you.”
That got her attention. “Wait, you would do that? You would help me?”
“Your house is surrounded again. They’re coming from even the farthest reaches of Tir Nan Og. She’s made you and your friends irresistible to all of us.”
Sandy felt the iron knife in her belt. She considered stabbing him before running for the door.
“I’ve got them all under control,” Sandy managed to say. And she would, once she got back home and put a gun in her hands. There was no end to the number she could kill.
“Ha, you think you know so much. That’s why you need me.”
“Why? Why would you want anything to do with a faerie hunter?”
“Jett. What she’s done to you. It’s just another abuse of power. She wants a kingdom, to organize the scattered gentry into a rigid hierarchy that even the humans would bow to. We fae have peace but she’s causing ripples, starting wars. That’s what happens when highborn think they can run the show.”
“So you have a few political opinions. What does that have to do with me?” Sandy asked, ready to bolt.
“You’d like to see her dead, and so would I. We could help each other. And maybe if that works out, we could strike at Lady Triona or gluttonous Lord Bumblegut. Take them out, one by one.”
“You would kill your own kind?” she asked, hesitant. She’d never heard of a Lady Triona or Lord anybody around here. If he could lead her to them…
“Some of us don’t like the others of us, true. I never did like them gentry, and I’d plunge a knife in their hearts, or guard yer back while you do it.”
It was a tempting offer, though it would mean she’d have to associate with this beast, work with him. She knew from Jina’s reports that this guy was clearly unseelie. Which made him a liar.
Could he be as bad as Jett, who sent the entire fae underworld after her and took her friend hostage?
“There’s more,” he added. “I know where they’ve taken her. Jina. She’s been enchanted by Jett’s seductive charms. I can help you rescue her. If you want her back, that is.”
There had been harsh words spoken between them, and they had irreparable differences, but Sandy very much wanted Jina back.
“Think about it,” he said when she didn’t answer. “Pretty soon, you’ll have more time than you know what to do with. When you see how much trouble yer really in, hang a sign in your window and we’ll talk.”
Time? What was he talking about?
She remembered being at Haun’s house, when six months had passed. A receipt lay on the table beside her. A glance at the date told her it was still May 18th. That seemed about right. Could she trust anything he said?
Pogswoth turned away and walked toward the front of the restaurant. He poked a gnome in the chest and pointed back at Sandy.
“You leave her alone,” she heard him say.
They were distracted, so Sandy ran, brushing past the nykks and out the front door.
The korrigan had those five occupied, but there were plenty more waiting outside. They’d collected in the short time she’d taken to order. They followed her, scuffling, limping, waddling, stalking her through the streets. More joined, and they scurried, sauntered, and slithered, to join in the gruesome parade.
She turned and shouted, “Why do you bother? My wards protect me!”
A thin voice called back from the shadows like a knife sliding through meat, “Smells… so… good…”
Sandy turned and broke into a run. She could hear them behind her, galloping, loping, trotting to keep up. Once she got that shotgun back in her hands, they’d all be dead.
A block away from her home, the blue mist began to lap at her toes, and shadows now moved before her instead of just behind. She stopped to catch her breath, to understand what was happening.
She saw them then, the horrors forming out of nothing. These were modern nightmares, boogeymen from the contemporary American psyche – aliens, zombies, things with tentacles. Yet she knew them all for what they really were.
