Pixie Noir (Pixie for Hire Book 1)

by Cedar Sanderson

  I shrugged, staring off into the dark room, remembering some of the bad moments. “There’s a reason I spent most of my time hunting monsters. It was a way of doing something worthwhile, when I was powerless here.”

  She yawned, muffling it with her hand. “Sorry... It’s been a long day, and a short night before it for me.”

  “Want to go back to Court?”

  She shook her head. “Not yet, do you mind? I know you probably need to pack.”

  “No, my bug-out bag is here, in the armory. I can retrieve it as we leave.”

  She snuggled back into my shoulder, warm against me, and asked sleepily, “how does that work for you, anyway, since you can’t do magic?”

  I leaned my head back on the couch and answered, “I use pre-made spells that Ellie or Alger put together for me. And I can do some magic, but not a whole lot before it starts to poison me.”

  “You never did explain that.”

  I didn’t that night, either, because I realized that she was asleep before I had gotten my thoughts together enough to answer her. I didn’t want to disturb her, I’d wake her in an hour or so and take her back to our rooms... I drifted off, closing my eyes.

  Chapter 36 - Reluctant Departure

  I was awakened by the smell of bacon, frying. Bella stirred and murmured slightly in her sleep, ending with a tiny squeak. She was curled up with me on the couch, and a blanket had been spread over both of us. I blinked at the soft knitted brown afghan for a second before I processed that the windows were uncovered and it was the first blush of dawn outside. I looked toward the kitchen. I couldn’t see into it, but I knew it had to be Ellie, in there frying up.

  It took a little work to extricate myself from Bella, who was between me and the couch edge. She snuggled into the warm spot I’d left with a sigh and kept on sleeping. I padded toward the kitchen, noting that my shoes had been slipped off, and stood neatly along with hers by the stairs. As I walked into the kitchen, shucking my wrinkled dress jacket, I got an unpleasant surprise for my morning.

  “Alger,” I growled.

  He looked up with a sunny smile. “Glad you got up, m’boy, was just thinking I would need to grab a couple of pot and pan lids.”

  I snarled slightly at him, but my rejoinder was cut off by Ellie pushing a steaming cup of coffee into my hand. Black ichor of the gods... I cradled it and sipped appreciatively. It helped a little to ease the sight of Alger in my home. He had not visited in many years, knowing I would shut the door in his face if he turned up.

  “Why,” I got to the point, “are you here?”

  “Bella.” He replied quietly, “I came in with Ellie this morning, and your mother and Dill’s dragon lady are coming later on.”

  I blinked at him for a moment, finally figuring out that by dragon lady, he meant the dowager we had met, guardian of the Princess Dill.

  “Have them bring Dill along.” I offered after sitting and thinking a moment. “Bella liked her, and you might be surprised how much having a little disingenuity will help.”

  I was also thinking it would make Bella laugh. I made a mental note to send messages to Devon and Dorothy, as well. Young company to offset the pompous droning she was about to be inundated in.

  Ellie slid a plate of eggs and ham in front of me, and I ate dutifully. I wasn’t really hungry, but the protein would help and arguing with her would just end in me losing.

  “So what are you going to try and teach her?” I asked Alger.

  “I don’t know, I still want to figure out how she can access all of the library. I’m sure,” he added thoughtfully, “that I can teach her how to find information more efficiently.”

  That made me snort, remembering Bella’s acid comment about his organization of the library. “Maybe you should teach her how to put it in order the way she wants it in her head.”

  He looked struck by this concept. I stood up and stretched, feeling the stiffness from sleeping on the couch, and with another person. It had been... a very long time, since I had done that.

  “Tell Bella I’ll be back soon, and we’ll finish our conversation.” I was speaking to Ellie, but Alger smirked at this. I glared at him, and pulled up a bubble to go to the Court. As I stepped out of it, I reflected that I was running low on pre-made spells. When I got back, I’d teach Bella how to make them for me, and it should be interesting to see what she came up with. The woman seemed endlessly creative at spell casting.

  They weren’t ready yet, which I expected. I gathered a few things from our rooms, and made sure my bag was packed tightly for transit. I didn’t know how long I would be gone, but planned for three days, and packed for a week. I was reading in the lobby, my kit next to me on the upholstered bench, when Melcar ushered in his charges. I tucked the book into my cargo pocket and stood to clasp forearms with him. Wood Elves are locked into a culture even older and more resistant to change than Fairy.

  “Coming along?” I asked him, looking at the huddle of fairies he had shepherded into the lobby. A pair of his apprentices were with them, soothing and whispering as they shrank from the open space around them.

  He shook his head, the fresh leaves woven into his hair whispering with his movements. “I am needed here. I have a copy of my report for the Eastern Court,” He held out a small parchment envelope I knew contained a spell. I tucked it in another pocket. I had adopted the cargo pants when I encountered them in human realms. Pockets were wonderfully useful.

  “My apprentices, Bertie and Alba, will accompany you,” he offered.

  “Let’s get going, then. I think they need something to occupy their minds.”

  We repeated the arm clasp, and I walked toward the group of people. A large transportation bubble was trickier, and his apprentices would handle it.

  “Ready?” I asked the man I recognized from the pen. His eyes were clear, but still haunted, and although the sparse stubble had been shaved, it just revealed him to be sunken cheeked. My question caused him to straighten a little. He squared his shoulders and a spark came into his eye.

  He nodded, and gestured to the apprentices. I had guessed correctly, this was the leader. My handing over the reins to him, even symbolically, had given him something. I started to feel a little hope for these people. We might not share a language, but minds work alike.

  The bubble sprang into existence, and we were on our way. Like most travel, the further you had to go, the longer it took. Even magic couldn’t do away with that. We were standing on a flat floor, with an iridescent soap-bubble ceiling over us. The coordinates of the Eastern Court were our target, and I knew from experience we would land in a perfect garden, full of the scent of flowers and breath-taking plants as designed as sculptures. I was already going over my greeting. They knew we were coming, and would have someone who spoke English waiting along with a group of healers and relatives. It could be a noisy, emotional moment.

  The bubble jolted, and I dropped into a crouch. Around me, people were screaming, some had fallen down, others had dropped to the floor as the bubble bounced like a plane in turbulence. This was decidedly not normal.

  I had never felt anything like this, but my mind immediately went to the encounter between the Alaskan Bush plane and a Roc, not that long ago. Only here, I had no windows, and no way to shoot back. That part I could fix, at least. I triggered a call spell and felt the comforting weight of my shotgun fill my palm.

  I barked an order to the passengers. “Get down, hug the floor!” I had no idea if they understood me, but most of them were already down anyway. Melcar’s apprentices, a bonded pair, obeyed me without question, clutching one another and watching me with wide eyes. I rode out the jostling with loose knees, remembering rough seas and feeling that same queasy sense as I held the gun at ready, and scanned slowly in a full circle.

  That we were being hijacked in some way I did not doubt, and I guessed by Low Court, but had no idea where they would land us, and what we would face once the bubble popped. There was a thud as we hit something, and
the bubble stopped, tilted. I staggered, and recovered my footing just as the bubble went down. A chorus of jeers, screeches, and laughter greeted the sight of us. Me, with the questing barrel of the shotgun, and the prostate fairies.

  It was Low Court, all right. I didn’t recognize the setting, but the ragged bunch that surrounded us was unmistakable. For all the polish of my Court, here there was black, gray, and the red of eyes, teeth, and boils on the skin of a troll looming behind the rest. They held in a ring, taunting and hurling insults. I didn’t think they were afraid of the small damage I could do with the gun - should they charge me, I might kill a few, but I faced dozens. My charges lay helpless at my feet.

  Chapter 37 - The Low King

  The ring of onlookers broke, but not to allow a surge of violent beings toward us. Instead, they all fell silent as the Low King stalked through the gap. Inhumanly beautiful, where they were dressed in rags, he wore an elegantly tailored suit. He carried a cane with a silver top, swinging it lightly as he paced forward, eyes narrowed. I trained the muzzle of my gun on him.

  “That’s far enough.” I told him when he was a pace inside the ring of his minions.

  He stopped obligingly, an amused look on his face, and leaned on his cane, his hands crossed on the top. I took a step toward him, putting myself solidly between my charges and him.

  “What do you think you are doing, little pixie?” he cooed at me.

  I pumped a shell into the barrel. “Getting ready to blow apart your black heart. Bertie, get ready with another bubble.” I spoke loudly enough for the prone wood elf to hear, and hoped he or Alba was rational enough to break through their fear and obey me.

  The Low King shook his head slowly, mocking me. “Fool. You will not be able to leave until I allow it. I have this area interdicted against transport.”

  “That can be broken.” It could, but it would require someone with more power than I had available. Being a cripple in magic sucked.

  He sneered, revealing the first flaw in his appearance, with gray, jagged teeth. The idea of being bitten by them made me shiver, but I kept the gun steady on him.

  He flicked a glance at the barrel. “We seem to have an impasse, then. You could shoot me, but then you, and all of...” he gestured limply at the Eastern Court people who had already been through so much at his instigation, “would die.” He clucked his tongue against those teeth. “Such a waste. Pity, really...”

  “What. Do. You. Want.” I gritted out between clenched teeth. I really wanted to just shoot him, but he was right, damn him.

  “Only you. The rest of the rabble can go on their merry way. But you must stay behind, surrender all your...” He looked at the gun again. “Spells, and be at our mercy.”

  “You know High Court will not stand for this.”

  He shrugged and yawned ostentatiously, pretending boredom. “They will never miss one little pixie. Errand boys are a dime a dozen.”

  “There is no way I am trusting you to let them go. If I surrender, you are just going to let your drooling anacephalic goons have them.” I didn’t look away from him, but I felt the beings glare at me, and heard the low growl at my taunt.

  He raised one hand, revealing that he wore french cuffs with simple ebony cufflinks, and snapped his fingers. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the bubble appear, and then, as he dropped his hand, blink out of sight. The Low King smiled.

  “Wasn’t that easy? Now...”

  I squeezed the trigger. His eyes barely had time to widen before the slug tore through his snowy white shirtfront. I fired again and felt a weight drop on my back and knock me down, blocking my view of the effect that shot had. I felt a searing pain as someone kicked me in the head, but my last thought before losing consciousness was a fierce exultation that at least I had made them pay for me.

  I woke up slowly, in pain, and then vomit, as nausea racked my body. I rolled onto my side to keep from drowning on it - that would be a bad way to die - and curled into the fetal position. Everything hurt, but I didn’t think anything was broken. Well, maybe a rib. That was a familiar pain, as I gasped for air when the spasms released me. It took an interminable time for my body to relax enough to let me become more aware of my surroundings. To start with, I was fairly sure I was blind.

  I was lying in a rapidly chilling puddle of my own vomit and other liquid I didn’t care to analyze too closely, and thankfully my nose seemed to be either broken, or bruised enough to not be able to inhale and smell it. One of my legs didn’t want to support my weight, so I contented myself with belly-crawling to a drier patch of the rough stone floor. It hurt, a lot, so I rested once I got there.

  I could tell, from the sounds I was making - mostly grunts and moans - that I was in a small room. I couldn’t tell if there was a door or other opening, my hearing is not that good on the best of days, and this was not a good day. It hurt, even to breathe. And I had the growing conviction that being alive was not a good thing. Low Court has a reputation for a reason, and after killing their King, they ought not to have had the restraint to leave me alive. I pushed myself to a sitting position.

  My head swam. I had nothing left in my stomach, which was good, as it would have come out then. I panted for a moment, listening to the reflections of sound. I couldn’t see, but I could feel a breath of air on my slime-covered cheek, and there was no sound bouncing back from a portion of the wall. I took a break before heading in that direction, as the little effort of sitting up had taken all my energy. This was going to be difficult.

  It took some time for another important bit of information to sink in. My clothes had gone. I don’t know why I didn’t figure out I was naked when I first woke up, but it wasn’t until I started shivering uncontrollably that it dawned on me. With shaking fingers, I felt my forearms, and realized that all my pre-made spells had been stripped away. Someone out there knew far too much about me and my weaknesses.

  So, I was naked, weaponless, and couldn’t see. I didn’t know where I was, and I was hurt, badly. I’d been kept alive for the further amusement of sadists, and I had no freaking idea where the Low King had sent the people I was responsible for before I had killed him. One could hope for the Eastern Court, sure, but just as likely the bottom of the ocean. My only regret was that I hadn’t killed more of them.

  I tried the leg again, and even though the muscle knotted and I had to bite my lips to keep the scream in, I made it to standing. Hands out in front of me, swaying, I shuffled toward the draft. I wasn’t thinking about escape and evasion. There was no way out of this. But maybe I could take at least one more with me.

  Footsteps sounded, and I stopped, one finger just grazing against a wall. The other hand flailed out into an opening before I pulled it back and tried to regain my precarious balance. The being was coming down uneven stairs, it sounded like. I wondered wildly if I could leap forward and overpower it...

  A light flared up. Ah... I wasn’t blind, then. I blinked fast in reflex, the light was painful after the profound darkness I had been in. My eyes teared up, and the captor, who I couldn’t quite see, snickered in a high-pitched tone.

  “Pitiful pixie. Poor, poor thing... alone in the dark. You like the light?”

  My eyes started to clear and focus. The elf globe she had lighted was flying directly at my head, and when I reflexively ducked it, I fell. This time I couldn’t suppress the scream. There was something wrong with the elbow of the arm I had tried to catch myself on. She laughed, a hair-raising cackle.

  “It hurts, and screams, so delicious.” She bent over me, close enough for me to smell her ghoul breath.

  I gasped out, “you should...”

  “What?” she giggled, trailing a finger over my cheek. “My, you are dirty.”

  “Meet my friend in Seattle.” I panted for a second, then finished, “he could use a ghoul-friend.”

  She dug her nails into my cheek and scratched, shrieking. Someone didn’t like puns, I thought fuzzily. Then, as she kicked me in the belly and as I returned to t
he fetal position, I had one more clear thought.

  “That’s going to get infected.” I don’t know how loud it was, but she evidently heard it.

  I didn’t quite pass out as she took out her rage on me, and maybe I should have. Without thinking about it, I threw up a magical shield. If I had either been out, or fully aware, I would have known what would happen. As she tried to get to me, I could feel the poison flooding me, setting my every nerve on fire. When she finally fled back up the stairs, calling for help, I shut the spell off, and then I did pass out again. There was too much pain, and my mind simply couldn’t deal with it.

  I didn’t know how long I had been out when I woke up again. I knew that a significant amount of time had passed, because I could feel that the magic poisoning had ebbed. I also knew, before I even opened my eyes, that I had been cared for. I wasn’t in enough pain, for a start, and secondly, I was lying on something soft. Cautiously, I opened my eyes. The ghoul girl’s abandoned elf globe still hovered near the ceiling, so I could at least see. I listened for a long moment, until I was sure I was alone in the room, and then turned my head to look around.

  I was lying on a pile of hay or straw. It was soft relative to the floor where I had started, and at least it kept me out of the sour mess I had smeared across the better part of the small cell. It was, I determined, a replica of a gothic dungeon cell, complete with stone walls, dripping moisture, and chains dangling from a rusty iron hoop embedded in one wall. The door was the only incongruity, as it stood fully open, stairs just visible beyond it. I took a deep breath, feeling my ribs scream in pain as I did so, and started the process of sitting up. At least this time I could see what I was doing.

  I made it halfway up the stairs when I heard footsteps approaching. I froze, trying to decide if I should try and go back down - it had been slow, hard work to get this far - or try and rush for the top. I picked one trembling foot up and placed it on the next stair. My hind brain was gibbering at me to run, but I braced myself against the wall and waited for what would come.