Second String Savior

by Rick Gualtieri

  “Maybe it was a test,” he said. “This could have been the Meliae’s way of vetting you.”

  “And if I’d been killed?”

  “Then at least they’d know you weren’t their chosen one.”

  I glared at him before turning back toward Dionaea. “Does what he said make any sense?”

  “I’m not sure much these days makes sense. The prophecy, don’t take no offense, but not a lot of us believed in it. It’s just been so long. The golden and silver ages of man both passed with no one stepping up the plate. Far as I know, the rest gave up on it.” Again her eyes opened wide. “Except for Ash. I ain’t privy to her thoughts, but I’ve heard she never ever stopped lookin’.”

  “She has a funny way of looking.”

  “Ash is old and wise. She’s forgotten more about this stuff than most of us will ever know. But. . .” Dionaea’s alien eyes lit up. “Maybe there’s a way for us to get more up to speed on this.”

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  The library of the dryads consisted of dusty shelves of scrolls tucked away in a basement deep beneath the temple. I went out on a limb and assumed it wasn’t a popular hangout spot.

  Gary and Dionaea were off in a corner. She’d offered to use her magic to give him a crash course on reading their language, but so far as I could tell, the only spell she was weaving was on his hormones as she whispered in his ear, close enough that I doubted Gary had any concentration left for scrolls.

  I grumbled as I explored the next row over, not wanting to be a voyeur to the type of education she seemed intent on giving him. Oh look, more musty scrolls.

  I turned down another aisle and jumped as I saw someone staring back at me. The man dropped the bundle he was carrying, splaying papers across the aisle as I finally recognized the familiar face. “I’m so sorry! It’s Mr. Keyne, right?”

  “Yes, Mistress Flores, great Conqueror of Burp. It’s an honor that you remember me. I apologize for startling you, but I thought with everyone occupied with the feast above it would be a good time to tidy the cellar.”

  I crouched down and started picking up scrolls, too. At least I could fix one mess I’d caused tonight. “I’m really sorry, sir.”

  Mr. Keyne chuckled. “There’s no need to apologize, Mistress Flores, to a mere servant such as myself. Now, if I may ask, what brings guests of the grove to this dark and dusty place? Are you perhaps a historian, a practitioner of the arcane arts, or . . . what is it the kids play these days . . . oh yes, a tomb raider?”

  “No, I’m just an awkward third wheel trying to find a place where I won’t get punched or stabbed.”

  Mr. Keyne smiled. He had the same caring grin as my dad. He even did the eyebrow furrow as he studied me. “Is there anything I can do to help, Mistress Flores?”

  “I don’t suppose you know anything about the chosen one, or why that Ash lady tried to impale me?” It was a long shot, but at least this guy gave off a comforting human vibe.

  I expected him to shrug and turn away, but instead he set his current pile of scrolls on an empty shelf and rifled through some papers at the end of the row. “Let me see what we have. Hmm, here’s something that might help.” He pulled a pair of glasses out of his pocket before scanning the first few lines of Ancient Greek. “A warrior maiden with hair of flames . . . yes . . . a child of heroes who will rise up and take the banner of the Meliae. The Oracle at Delphi predicted her arrival, but like most oracles, she was sketchy on both the details and the timeline.”

  “Silly oracles,” I said with a little laugh. “A child of heroes? My, um, father was in the military, and now he’s a cop. If that’s not a hero, then I don’t know what is.”

  “It’s a start. Let’s see what else it says.” Mr. Keyne scanned a little more and nodded. “This child of heroes will have to prove her worth before the Meliae and the gods. If worthy, she will be granted the Blessing of Uranus and be his emissary on the mortal plane. Imbued with this font of power, the vessel will lead the council of dryads into a glorious second Golden Age.”

  “That sounds good.”

  “But she must choose her own path, whether light or dark, to defend or destroy.”

  “Less good.”

  “I’m paraphrasing a little, I’m afraid. Some of the words don’t translate well.”

  “Does it say what the Blessing of Uranus is?” I cringed a bit asking the question.

  Mr. Keyne chuckled at my reaction. “It does sound a bit awful, doesn’t it? Ah, the nuances of language. It can make even the divine sound ridiculous. Unfortunately, I don’t see any details other than it’s a gift from a god.” He looked me in the eye. “That means it probably has plenty of strings attached. Let me look and see if I can find anything else.”

  “You’d do that for me?”

  Mr. Keyne gave me a little bow. “I am a servant, Mistress Flores. I live to serve. At worst you are one of the more pleasant individuals it has been my pleasure to attend to, but at best, you may be the chosen one, which means earning your good favor is time well spent.”

  I wasn’t sure how to answer that, but fortunately I didn’t have to.

  “Jessie!” Gary called from a few aisles over. “You’ve got to see this.”

  “Go to your friends, Mistress Flores. I will find what I can. In the meantime, I would suggest that you and young Master Bates—”

  Oh, I lost it laughing at that one. Mr. Keyne’s smile tightened, whether out of embarrassment or stifling a laugh, I couldn’t be quite sure.

  “Jess?”

  Mr. Keyne composed himself. “I would suggest that you and your companion return to the festivities. After all, it is not every day that you can dance with the dryads.”

  “But what if Ash decides to test me again?”

  “Then I would suggest you may stand a better chance in the open with good company, surrounded by witnesses, and not in some secluded alcove.”

  The lightbulb finally went on in my head. Yeah, that made sense. “Thank you so much, Mr. Keyne.”

  “The honor is entirely mine. I will join you once I find anything of value.”

  It was nice to finally meet someone without an ulterior motive around here. Sadly, any relief I had died quickly as I saw a vine snaking out of Dionaea’s arm and stroking the back of Gary’s hand while his eyes glowed a vivid gold. “Whoa, I don’t know what I’m interrupting, but I’m going back upstairs.”

  “Wait! Jess. . .”

  There was no chance of low-cardio Gary catching me, especially tangled up as he was in whatever Poison Ivy fetish floated his boat. I couldn’t wait for this jealous juice to leave my system, because I had no intention of spending the rest of this peace conference pining over someone my dad called Skunk Boy.

  The upstairs had switched gears from feast to party mode, with the tables moved to the side and topped almost exclusively with booze. Torches provided dim light, and somewhere a band was kicking it up a notch with some mad lyre skills. Apparently, I’d stumbled into an ancient rave, and there was only one proper response to this omega level absurdity.

  It was time to get my groove on until I got it out of my system . . . or something tried to kill me.

  Chapter Thirty: Dionysian Disaster Strikes

  My body spun in time with the music, or was it my head? Luckily, every time I stopped to think too much about it, one of the friendly neighborhood house sprites would top off my drink. I spied the trio from down under gyrating in a pack and shuffled their way, liquid courage and a driving beat coursing through my veins.

  All three gave me the stink eye, with Pinky leading the glare-charge. I gave her a tiny wave with a follow-up one finger salute. The music got even faster, and my feet couldn’t resist.

  “Nice moves . . . for a human,” Pinky said with a sneer.

  “You’re not so bad . . . for a vegetable. By the way, sorry, I ruined your mating ritual earlier, but Gary is more the dancing with himself type anyway.”

  The pink-haired girl leaned in. “Duh! He’s a bloody u
nicorn-rider, like you.” All three dryads burst into mean-girl laughter. The rainbow-haired girl added, “Yeah, a girl could live off that much pent up frustration for at least a decade.”

  “Well, too bad for you skanks, Dionaea is totally wrapping her vines around him,” I snapped back with a hiccup.

  “Too bad for your friend, you mean,” the blonde, whatever her name was, chimed in, throwing her friends a significant look.

  “Huh? What do you mean?”

  Pinky raised an eyebrow. “You do know what she is, don’t you?”

  “Another plant chick with big—”

  “She’s a lamia, Burp Girl.”

  Between the music and the drink, I wasn’t sure I heard her correctly. “A llama?”

  “No, idiot. A snake demon died in the place where she first took root. She’s not like most of us. She can’t live off the sun, rain, and soil. She needs flesh, and there’s nothing sweeter than the flesh of a virgin wizard.”

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Gary might be annoying, but there was no way I was letting him get eaten by some flower harpy. I stepped away from the dance floor, realizing my cup was still in hand. At some point it had been refilled with a bright red liquid that smelled of cherries. Realizing a little extra fortification couldn’t hurt, I quickly downed the contents before tossing the cup away and heading in the direction of the library.

  Whoa . . . and fortify me it did. I didn’t know what that was, but it was like injecting nitrous into my legs. I leapt down the stairs in a single bound, not even feeling a twinge from what had to be a fifteen-foot drop. “Gary!”

  A groan came from the shadows. Was I too late? “Gary!”

  “Jess?” Gary’s voice carried back to me, hurried and higher pitched than normal. “Oh shit!”

  I skidded to a halt as Dionaea stepped from around a shelf, her leaf bikini all askew and a smile on her lips.

  “What did you do to him?” I raised my fists and just barely stifled a gasp as they both burst aflame, not unlike what Sensei had done in the alleyway. Whatever was in that last drink, I needed to see if my local Trader Joe’s carried it.

  Dionaea looked almost as surprised as me, but quickly composed herself. “Relax, Burp Girl. I didn’t do anything he didn’t enjoy.” She inclined her head over her shoulder. “Ain’t that right, sugah?”

  “Um, I’ll be out in . . . just a second.” Gary’s face conveyed many things—surprise, breathlessness, and maybe even a tinge of annoyance—but mortal jeopardy was not one of them.

  “But . . . those girls said. . .”

  “Oh, those jealous shrubbery-sluts.” Dionaea let out a deep sigh. “Listen, sugah, I don’t eat human flesh unless I’m desperate. All we were doing was giving each other a little pick-me-up, if you catch my drift.” As if to further emphasize the point, she wiped the corner of her mouth.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  I didn’t stick around to hear Gary’s excuse. Thankfully, whatever boost let me leap downstairs let me bound up them five at a time. I raced back to the rave and had no sooner arrived than another cup was placed in my hand with more of that badass berry juice. I downed it and then tried to lose myself in the music.

  I must have been quite the sight—fire falling from my hair and fingertips while waves of tears cascaded down my face. Why did I even care about that hornball loser?

  The tempo increased, and so did I, spinning in time to it and . . . and . . . suddenly I didn’t feel so good. Cackles erupted behind me and I turned to see that trio of weed-whores laughing and pointing at me.

  I took a step toward them, thinking how nice it would be to prune their stupid faces with my fist, when the world started to lurch around me. I stumbled and felt my guts cramping up. Oh no. I needed fresh air, or at least a convenient bush to hurl behind.

  Their laughter followed me as I managed to stagger to the nearest topiary before everything in my stomach decided to reintroduce itself to the world. My head felt like it was on fire, followed by a similar feeling in my guts . . . that feeling traveling up my throat, into my mouth, and then. . .

  Bllleeeeccccchhhhh!

  I must’ve been drunker than I thought, because what came pouring out of me was a sparking rainbow of radiant puke which combusted wherever it touched the ground.

  Just great! Not only was I yakking in the middle of a dryad party, but I was in danger of burning it to the ground as well. I hurled flaming chunks until I was a dizzy, whimpering mess lying on the ground in the fetal position. Had any vampires been present, I’d have gladly invited them to put me out of my misery.

  I wasn’t sure how long I lay there suffering next to my burning spew, but I eventually became aware of a presence looming over me.

  “What a mess.”

  I knew that voice and its masked owner. Although, whether she was talking about me or what I’d done, I didn’t know, because the second I cracked my eyes open, all I could see was the butt of a spear rapidly descending my way, followed by nothing but darkness.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  “Mistress Flores. . . Mistress Flores, can you hear me?”

  My eyelashes slowly fluttered open. I could smell smoke while something warm and soft brushed my cheek. I slowly focused on dark hair and blue eyes while my hands touched . . . flannel?

  “There, there,” Mr. Keyne said. He dipped a rag in some water and gently dabbed the crusty gunk around my mouth.

  “Ugh, I feel terrible.”

  “I’ve sent for some help. You seem to be having an allergic reaction.”

  “Allergic reaction?” Was that a nice way of saying I’d gotten lit till sick?

  “Yes. From the look of things, you seem to be reacting negatively to an enchantment.”

  “Pretty no be sick!” Before I could even say hi, a white ball of fluff flopped next to me and wrapped her furry arms around my wobbly midsection.

  “Oof, thanks Floof.” She may have been clingy, but at least she was warm.

  I blinked and saw we weren’t alone.

  “Is she going to be okay?” Gary asked.

  Dionaea stood next to him, looking down at me with what appeared to be actual concern on her face. Weirdly, I didn’t feel any twinges of jealousy in my gut at seeing them together. Good, because I’m not sure my gut could have handled it. If anything, I was glad to see him enjoying the local flora.

  “Move aside for Bush,” a deep voice said and a moment later a big, brown mountain of ape lumbered to my side.

  She used one finger to brush back my hair before giving me a warm smile. “Rest. Magic sickness, needs rest,” Bush commanded. Who was I to argue with a nursemaid who could snap my spine like a twig?

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  I awoke on a soft pile of moss next to a fire. I looked up to find my unicorn buddy watching over me. “Oh, hi Abraxas,” I cooed to him as the fog lifted in my head.

  “He’s taken quite a liking to you, Mistress Flores. It’s rare indeed.” Mr. Keyne walked over carrying a steaming cup of something that smelled like toothpaste. “Peppermint tea. It’ll help.”

  “Am I still in the grove?” I groaned.

  “Yes, but at the very edge, near the stables.” No doubt seeing the question on my face, he added, “Abraxas was very upset when he heard what happened.”

  “Is everyone . . . the grove, all right?”

  Mr. Keyne nodded. “The fire is out, and the sprites should have cleaned up any mess by now.”

  “Why . . . why was I puking the rainbow?”

  Mr. Keyne pointed to the cup. “Drink some first. Let’s see if you can hold that down.”

  I managed a tiny sip. It burned my tongue but stayed put for the time being. My friends all took turns checking on me—even Gary, who seemed intent on avoiding eye contact. They weren’t the only ones, though. Every so often I caught a glimpse of forms sneaking peeks at me that looked suspiciously like Abraxas.

  “More unicorns?”

  Mr. Keyne nodded. “Aroura and Astrid are around, as well as Abraxas’s brother Aeolus.
”

  I glanced past him as an altogether different form scampered into view, this one shaggier, with a much longer neck. “Is that an alpaca?”

  “That’s Alkire, our resident drama llama. He was enchanted in the Lima mana flood of 1782. Be careful, he’s cranky and he bites.”

  “So, he’s a llamacorn?” I choked out. “A . . . magic llama?”

  “Sometimes when magic is released uncontrollably, accidents happen. Too many varying energies can converge with . . . explosive results, as you experienced tonight. If Lady Ash hadn’t gotten to you in time—”

  “Ash?” I grumbled. “She nearly killed me.”

  “She saved your life. The spear of a Meliae is an instrument of balance, both an agent of destruction as well as a potent source of protection. With the correct incantation, a single touch can purge the body of poison, or the remains of a magical reaction, in your case.”

  I rubbed the goose egg on my forehead. “A touch, huh?”

  “Too much magic can be bad,” Bush said, stepping toward me. “Sometimes need extra help to purge.” She made a clonking motion toward my head, then lifted something into a view. It was a crude sweater made of wild, white fur. She yanked the baggy mass of fuzzy softness over my head. “This keep you warm. Gift from Bush.”

  “Gift from Floof, too!” The tiny Bigfoot bounded into view, looking somewhat less fuzzy than she had before. I guess that explained what it was made of.

  Bush lifted the hem at the waist to show some beads braided into the knit. “This show it gift so others no kill you as thief.”

  “Thank you so. . .” The words died in my throat as I caught a whiff through my nostrils. The sweater was warm as can be, but it smelled . . . oh God. My stomach did a few more flip flops.

  Hold on—I could smell them again, and earlier I wasn’t jealous when I saw Gary. Did that mean the enchantment from the pool had finally worn off? Or maybe been puked out along with everything else?

  “Rest now,” Bush said. “Bush had cub who ate fermented fruit. Got sick like you. Rest soothe sickness.”