“My arms hurt,” she said. “I’m sorry I asked you to try harder to intimidate me.”
“You still don’t seem very intimidated,” Tarn pointed out. “I must say, Action Girl Branwyn was far more... curious... about her situation than you are.”
Realization dawned. “You want to exposit at me. Oh. You definitely need a cat for that. Neath, you’re up. Go snuggle with him.” She felt drunk with exhaustion.
Tarn laughed out loud and snapped his fingers. An upholstered footstool appeared beneath Marley’s feet, so that while her wrists were still captured, her weight was no longer dragging on them. “It would disappoint us both if you were simply abandoned to languish in captivity. It’s so dull in Underlight these days, even in the Velvet Court.”
Marley looked around the shadowy room. “Is anything here actually real?”
Tarn moved closer. “I am.”
“And them?” She pointed with her chin at the eyes in the shadows. They shifted about, blinking on and off.
“Real enough.”
“But this Velvet Court of yours isn’t real. That’s how you pulled the children away.”
“Space is malleable, especially here.” He looked around fondly. “It’s served us well over the years.”
Marley moved her hands back and forth, wondering if she could work them free. What would she do then? Even if she dodged her many watchers and made it to the door, she would still be trapped in this flexible world, with no idea of how to get to the children. No, the only way forward was to play his game. Maybe she could get some kind of concession from him if she kept talking. If she entertained him.
“So, do you believe the girls are dangerous as well? Is that why you’re helping Ettoriel?”
Tarn laughed again, a full, rich sound. “I know they are dangerous. Their touch will not fade from the substrate of my realm for many years. You did not see it, but when we took them, the world separated around them, like butter from buttermilk.”
Marley remembered the white flare she’d seen when the curse had struck and wondered if she had seen the passage of the twins after all.
“Good,” she said, and she didn’t bother to keep the vindictive pleasure from her voice. “You deserve trouble for helping that bastard.”
Tarn dipped his head, as if he didn’t disagree with this statement. “It has been a long while since we could do what gave us pleasure.” When he looked at Marley again, there was a hunger in his eyes that hadn’t been there before.
Marley felt the sudden urge to back away, pressing her shoulders futilely against the wall. “Why do you look like Zachariah?”
Tarn tossed black hair away from his eyes. “Zachariah was never what I'd call a charming child, not like your two wards. Even knowing what was at stake, what could be accomplished, he chose to resist my command. But he always did have a knack for predicting the path of games.” There was grudging pride in his voice.
Marley blinked and then blinked again. “You’re his father?”
Tarn smiled again. “His mother was a beautiful, intelligent woman, if easily distracted. Somewhat like you.”
“Oh, ew,” said Marley, trying to unthink the idea that possibly she reminded Zachariah of his mother. “Next topic! When are you going to let me go?”
“I told you already that I cannot let you go.” His voice was stiff and strange again, and this time, she caught the subtle emphasis.
“Why do you—” She stopped. Faeries are like lawyers. “You’re not lying, are you?” Ettoriel? Who’s that? We serve the Dark Lord Tibbersnaufer. “But in my dream—” She stopped, confused.
Tarn spread his hands. “For a Duke of Faerie to speak untruths within his own realm would be disastrous. All the realm is bound to the truth of its master’s tongue. But your dream... What are dreams but lies your brain creates to help it understand a greater truth?”
“But what greater truth?” murmured Marley, mostly to herself.
“You already know it,” said Tarn. He raised his gaze, staring off into the distance. “Time is running out. I do hope nothing unexpected happens.”
“Your puppet lied to me about who you’re working with. But why? And it was such a ridiculous lie. Tibbersnaufer. Really?”
Tarn’s gaze was still distant. Then it snapped back to Marley. “Do pardon me, but I have to tend to a disruption.” He turned to pace through the door.
Marley called, “Wait!” Tarn paused, his head turned just enough to indicate that she had his attention. “Will you at least let Branwyn go? She’s got no part of this.”
“But she wants a part so very badly,” smirked Tarn, as he vanished through the door.
Marley slumped as much as her restrained arms would let her. Then she realized that she wasn’t alone just because Tarn had departed. The eyes were still all around her, and now their owners were creeping out of the shadows.
Her first thought was “small goblins,” but she realized that though they crouched close to the floor, they were no smaller than her. Nor were they monstrous in appearance. They had wild hair, large noses, and expressive mouths, with slanted eyes, and they moved like dancers emulating animals. Mostly, they seemed male, dressed in rags of silk and fur and feathers, decorated by scars and rainbow-colored tattoos.
One of them, in red silken rags and orange leather, the first from the shadows, loped over to her and stared up into her eyes. On the stool, she was maybe a foot and a half taller than him. Then he ducked his head and pressed his face against her groin, inhaling deeply.
Marley froze in shock, and then kicked up off the stool, trying hard to introduce her foot to his own groin. He dodged to one side, laughing.
“Why don’t you do as my lord wishes?” he inquired, when he had his breath back. “It has been so long since we were free to do as we wish. The world misses us.”
Marley panted, resting her weight on one foot only, ready to kick again. “What are you talking about? He already has what he wants of me.”
He tilted his head, looking at her feet, and then her face. Then he moved closer again. Too close. Reflexively, she kicked out. He caught her foot, as easily as catching a ball. Grinning, he held her foot as she cursed and squirmed, then slipped her shoe off. He tossed the shoe over his shoulder; one of his companions caught it and tried it on his own bare foot.
“Not true. He wants so much more from you.” The faerie’s voice dropped to a croon. “The sun, the moon, the stars.”
“I haven’t got the title for those,” Marley snapped. She yanked on her foot again, her exhaustion driven away by rising panic. It was just as disturbing to have this strange creature holding her foot as sniffing her crotch. Another one came up alongside her, running a single finger over the small of her back.
Shakily, she said, “If you guys don’t back off, I’m going to start screaming. I don’t think your lord would like that.” That had to be true. He was so polite; there hadn’t even been any chains until she’d been rude.
But the faerie holding her foot was still smiling, his strong fingers squeezing its sole. “It rather depends on the screams. He left you here with us quite aware of his actions.”
“Tarn!” she shrieked. A third faerie grabbed at the leg supporting her, wrestling it up, while a fourth pried off her other shoe.
“Perhaps we ought to make you one of us,” suggested the first faerie. “Show you the nature of our captivity.” Her socks came off next. She kicked and twisted and screamed, until she realized that they’d pinioned one foot between three of them and were... tickling it? It was so strange that she gasped and swallowed another scream as she tried to work out what was going on. She couldn’t see beyond their wild heads of hair, but she could feel cool, wet, fine lines being traced across the top and sides of her foot, leaving a residue behind.
Were they writing on her? For a moment, she even caught the distinctive whiff of ink. Then she recalled the markings they all wore, and what they’d said finally made it past her wall of terror. Perhaps we ought to make
you one of us.
Was that even possible? Her memory helpfully supplied the word “changeling” in reply. She shuddered and renewed her fighting, focusing on that foot, on moving it just enough to disrupt the careful inking.
The first faerie looked up at her, his pale eyes hungry. “There are other ways, pretty one, ways you’d like much less.”
Marley stared at him, then shook her head. Just let one thing she disliked happen because if she didn’t, something worse might happen? Hell, no!
“This way,” continued the faerie, “you are restrained, and we will drain your power out of you, but your... nature… is untouched. You are not made to suffer.” His mouth curved up in a feral, unamused smile.
Marley stared at him in horror. “No! No, I will suffer!”
“But how can you? It is such a benign form of captivity. And sometimes we will take you out and let you dance for us. Won’t that be fun?” The tickle of the inking moved up her foot to her ankle. “Won’t you be grateful for such a minor form of freedom?” He tilted his head to one side, as if listening to something, his gaze growing distant.
Then his gaze snapped back to Marley. She was sure her foot was tingling where the ink had been laid. Was yet another enchantment seeping inside her? Is that why they’d captured her in this way, was that what Tarn wanted? Her magic? Perhaps her powers would be put to use protecting Ettoriel?
She was trapped here. There was no one to hear her scream, no one who cared. All that effort to avoid Ettoriel, and she’d walked right into this hidden enemy’s grasp.
A warm finger pressed against her lips, and Marley realized that she’d been whimpering as she stared sightlessly ahead. The first faerie removed his finger, his eyes meeting her own. “You don’t like that fate? What would you do to escape it? Lie? Cheat? Betray?”
Hope flared in Marley. Almost anything. But... “I wouldn’t just let you hurt those children, if that’s what you’re asking.”
He tapped her mouth. “You’re a very dense little girl. Carry on, my brothers.” He stepped away and looked around. “Where did the sweet kitten scamper off to?”
Marley twitched convulsively as tickling began on her other foot. Where was Neath? Why, after protecting her in so many dreams, had the strange cat abandoned her now? What had Tarn said about her? A construct of her mother's, protecting her?
Tears sprang to Marley’s eyes. What a fantasy.
“Hmm,” said the first faerie, staring off into a corner. There was a sparkle of light on the carpet that slowly resolved into the wildcat-sized Neath. She flattened her ears and yowled. Her shadow flowed out like spreading ink behind her. It reared up, morphing into a rough human shape.
“Brothers,” said the first faerie, warningly. The black shape broke into pieces, light and color streaming out from the cracks. A breeze came from nowhere. Then the shadows flew in all directions, not shadows now but ravens. Corbin stepped into the Velvet Court.
-thirty-three-
Light streamed from both of Corbin's hands, and one eye glowed blue while the other was a black pit. Darkness seemed smeared across his face, and his hair tangled in the wind he’d brought with him.
He pointed with his left hand, silver light dripping from his finger, and the wind smashed into the faeries who held Marley. “Let the girl go,” he called.
“You have come into our realm, our power, halfling, a willing visitor,” growled the first faerie. “We will add you to our menag—ah!” A raven the size of a hawk had descended on him. More assaulted the faeries holding Marley, so that all she saw was wings, and all she heard was the cries of birds and men. Her feet were released, tickled by feathers.
The metal hands gripping her wrists opened. She fell to the floor, landing awkwardly on exhausted legs that promptly gave out beneath her. A faerie tripped over her and she covered her head and curled up. After a moment, when nobody else stepped on her, she started crawling toward where she’d last seen Corbin.
A hand closed over her arm and hauled her upright. She struggled tiredly before recognizing the golden glow around Corbin’s hand, and raising her eyes to his face.
Up close, she barely recognized him. Something cold and inhuman had settled over his features. He glanced over her and she wondered what had happened to his left eye. Then he raised his golden hand and touched it to her forehead. Something intangible popped free, leaving her feeling, on some metaphysical level, less constricted. The glow on Corbin’s hand changed texture, becoming tinged with blue.
“Where is the master of this Court?” demanded Corbin, turning his attention back to the faeries brawling with his ravens. Not just his ravens, either. White lightning soundlessly jumped from faerie to faerie, blinding their eyes and tying up their feet. Perspective skewed, until she wasn’t sure if the ravens were larger or the faeries smaller.
“Can we get out again?” she asked Corbin. “However you got here?”
“I don’t know,” he said in an undertone. “I came on the tail of your cat.” She followed his gaze to where Neath was damaging a faerie with spiky purple hair. It looked like she’d grown again. “I’m not ready to leave yet, though. Where are the children?”
“He tricked them away from me, lured them out and did some magic to this place that snatched them beyond my reach,” she said angrily. “Out of my range.”
“Rather like this,” said Tarn’s voice, and a cold wind swept through the room, tumbling both birds and the smaller faeries. But there was more to it than that. The cushions and hangings all turned translucent and hard, like a model of a luxurious room carved from diamond. Or ice. Every inanimate thing in the room was now ice or snow, including the walls. Only around Corbin did the material of the room maintain its original character. His hands glowed brightly.
Tarn, standing at the same door he’d departed through, looked mildly irritated. “My dear, if you wanted more company, you had only to ask. You didn't need to summon this ruffian.” He waved a hand and the whole room twisted, the ice flowing and reforming into different structures, until they were in a prison run by the Snow Queen. Fur-lined handcuffs hung on the inside door of the large barred cell that had appeared around them, and a glass cake dome appeared around each of the ravens. A number of unusual implements, all silver and crystal, hung on the wall beside Tarn.
But the new scene barely lasted long enough for Marley to register the details before Corbin lifted his hands and the fittings of the room shattered into whiteness. All was mist, with Tarn and his goblins barely visible through the drifting coils. The ravens cried and flapped through chilly air.
“Do you know what happened when you stepped inside the door?” Corbin asked in a low voice.
“I told you. He stole the children.”
“I mean when everything exploded. I saw it as the door closed. No? I’ll tell you. Three things combined: the nature of this place, the curse Ettoriel placed on you, and your own gift. An enormous amount of power was released. It left marks. Normally, I wouldn’t be able to fight a faerie lord, not in his own land, but he must have exerted significant resources to repair the breach you caused.”
“Can I do it again?”
He glanced at her and took her hand. “I have no idea.”
“What was that you took from me?”
“That enchantment I couldn’t identify earlier. A marker for him.” He nodded toward where Tarn was tracing delicate shapes through the mist with his long hands. “He’s been tracking you.”
Marley closed her eyes and felt for the curse, felt for the demon’s gift. The curse was there, but still unfocused. The demon’s gift—but she was exhausted. She couldn’t control it.
“What can you do now that you’re here?” she asked quietly. “I want to make him talk. He’s been playing with me in my dreams since Zachariah vanished. He’s got Zachariah somewhere, and maybe Branwyn and Penny too, and I want to know why. He doesn’t have the same motivations as Ettoriel, I know that.”
“The dreams explain the mark's purpose, then.
Look out,” Corbin said, and pulled her to one side. Color was creeping into the mist and swirling along the ground. “Let’s walk while we talk, shall we?” He set out in an apparently random direction, towing her after him. Marley thought he’d run into a wall soon, because the room hadn’t been that big. But he didn’t. The white mist thickened around them.
“What exactly are you doing?” Her body ached all over. It wanted her to lie down and sleep, preferably after a long, hot bath. She ignored it.
“Right now? In layman's terms, I'm interfering with the signal he broadcasts to control the environment. I took the signature from the enchantment he put on you.” He raised his blue-tinted hand. “I’m making a lot of spiritual noise. “
Marley nodded, thinking, looking down at her feet. She was wearing shoes again. But she'd felt the ink on her skin. What was real here?
Corbin went on. “You said Zachariah was here? I wonder if we can find him.
“He said Zachariah was his son,” Marley said.
Corbin stopped walking to look at her. “Did he really? That explains a lot about the tricky old bastard.” It was a moment before Marley realized he was describing Zachariah as old. “Maybe he’s just congenitally unable to tell the simple truth. Let’s find him and ask.”
“If we’re going to find somebody, I’d rather find the children. If Zachariah is well, he’s not going to stop being well in the next few hours. “ And if she could get the girls back this time, she wouldn’t hang around L.A. She’d find someplace to run to.
“You’re not desperate enough yet, girl,” said Tarn’s voice from somewhere in the mist. “Your eternal optimism, so human. Your inability to fight back, so like your mother.”
“Words are cheap, faerie,” called Corbin, and squeezed her hand. “Shall I—”
Light flared around them. Marley jerked so hard she tripped herself, but it was Corbin who twisted and sprawled, as gravity reversed itself for him. A room spread out from the burst of light and they were once again back in the Velvet Court. This time, it was Corbin who was caught up by the metal hands. He kicked and twisted as goblins swarmed him.
Matchbox Girls Page 24
