“Not,” he said decidedly. “I hear we have to go into Faery and I’ll need all my body parts for that. Like I said. I’ll be your dog. I have my place here from last time anyway,” and he turned and sat down on the steps in a Zen position of utter calm.
Across the street Mrs. Pinkerstein was struggling with the madly excited Chihuahua. The noise wasn’t deafening but it had a tinny, mad annoying sound. Teazle barked. He sounded like the daddy of all dogs and the chi instantly shut up and put its head down, tail between its legs.
“Thank the nymph for me,” he told Lila as she turned.
“I will,” she said. She looked out over the low hills towards the highway but there was no sound of the bike engine. Her stomach hurt with hunger. She went inside.
“Nixas is one of the greatest healers of the fey,” Malachi informed her as she stood, surveying what had once been a fair model of a quaker style midsize domestic kitchen and had somehow become a huge room equipped with professional cookery gear, a cavernous extension of a larder, and an inglenook fireplace big enough to roast an ox. Around the latter was a wide tiled area full of chairs and piles of blankets upon which various faeries were resting, talking, eating, and smoking. Many of them gave her a nod and a wink, a smile, raised their mugs, or waved and hid again.
“Nixas is a player,” Lila said and met Malachi’s eye with a frank look of her own. “I hate players.” She swept her eyes over the new magical extension, not sure about it and wondering where all their stuff had gone.
Malachi smiled his slow, laconic smile. “Oh, me too,” he said and she shook her head, smiling, and punched him lightly on the shoulder because nobody but nobody was more of a player than Malachi. He pointed through the smoke and steam to a small figure of a potbellied creature sitting in the arms of a much larger faery. The small one appeared to be doing some kind of dance with a spoon in one hand and a mug in the other. The larger one darted around, moving it skilfully from place to place. At its orders five or six others moved about with pots, pans, and jars. On a table between them and the mellow fireplace with its roaring logs was set an incredible feast, only one-third of which Lila could even identify. The room smelled heavenly.
“I thought you were hungry,” she said, lightheaded and feeling sick with a need for food.
“Mine’s just coming,” he replied and then a half-height brownie walked up with a platter on which a steak rested, blackened to a crisp on its very edges, dripping with blood and hot fat, quite raw in the middle. “Please excuse me.” He took the plate and put it down on the floor, then gave a curious kind of shrug and suddenly there was no tall, cool black faery at her side but a huge pantherlike creature on all fours, darkness pooling around it as it gulped down the meat in three bites and then paused a moment to sit and lick its whiskers.
“Aww, Baggie,” she said to him, getting over her surprise at his change—she’d never seen him actually do it before. “I didn’t know you were really a… anyway. That’s not really a panther. Or a puma. Too much… in fact you’re a bit…” Cat. He was some kind of cat. But weird. Not like a real one. She didn’t know how to say that nicely.
He bared his incredibly white teeth at her and his orangey red eyes blinked once, twice. Then he was standing and saying, “That’s better. If I had to eat any more of that honey and jellies shit we have to stick with in human form I’d be sick. Cats need meat.”
“Soul food,” she said.
“Hell yeah,” he gently bumped her with his shoulder. “You all right?” His question meant everything. Are you all right in every way?
“Hell, no,” she said, with feeling. “Where’s the menu?”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Lila woke up on the futon mats that passed for a bed now that ordinary beds didn’t support her weight anymore. She felt exhausted but the sun was high so she had to have been out a while. Her room was empty except for her and Zal, who was awake, sitting propped up against the wall, playing on a hand console. His face was set with concentration. She heard the tinny tune and pop of a game where all the characters were cute, big-eyed furry ninjas. Zal’s character was a pink fluffy squirrel in a minidress and high boots who wielded a twohanded sword bigger than her entire body.
“Eee-cha!” said the squirrel repeatedly, slaying flying monkeys left and right, leaping from tree to tree in search of nuts.
“Homesick?” Lila asked, rolling onto her back and rubbing her face with both hands. She felt so sleepy she’d like to turn over and go back to oblivion, but she’d already spent too long on rest. A halfdigested super salad with mesquite chicken and avocado salsa shifted with sluggish acidity in her gut. She tried to swallow the nasty taste in her mouth and remembered all the faery beer she’d drunk.
“Haha,” Zal said, losing concentration with his squirrel and falling off a log. His face was scraped down the side with a red graze, hair matted with mud on the ends. Mud caked his clothing and had started to fall off on the bedsheets.
“You fell off.”
“Your bike doesn’t hold the corners that well over a hundred. Not on wet gravel anyway. Just a small tumble.”
“Is the bike… ?”
“I bought you another one,” he said, tossing the console aside. “It’s on order, anyway. They don’t stock them for some reason.”
“Where’s the old one?”
“In a field halfway to Frisco. Thanks, I’m fine.”
He bent down and kissed her.
He felt rough and tough in his armour, and tasted of bruising and chilli. She decided she liked it and was just deciding that maybe they could spend another hour here when there was a knock on the door. She made to answer but Zal held her down and finished his kiss.
“It’s only me,” said Max’s voice from the other side of the door. “I’m gonna make you some breakfast. Come down when you’re ready. No rush.”
Zal stared into her eyes with dark focus. “There’s a lot of moth dust out there,” he said. “One of them followed me out into the country, tried to swipe me when I came off the bike. It only veered off because it realised I was elf.”
“Ah, faery kryptonite.”
“At close range. How are they affecting you?”
“Me?” she yawned and did a systems check, sitting up suddenly appalled when she saw that she was twenty percent slow. “Actually… not so good.”
“Too much magic,” he said. “Aether can really interfere with electronics at these magnitudes. I thought maybe the elementals would buffer it but I guess they can’t block it all. It will be worse in Faery.”
She watched his mouth moving as he spoke, noticing the sensual shapes his lips made. “Have you been there before?”
“No. We’re not high on the party list. I once made an attempt to spy my way in but I couldn’t find the way. Time and space work strangely there. It is legend that it is the country of the Second Sister, one of the Moirae. Faery is her loom.”
Lila put her finger to his lips, reluctantly. “Mal said you weren’t to say that word.”
“Yes, I know, but they’re already watching me so it doesn’t matter.”
“Zal, about Sorcha… I…”
“I know who it was,” he said, glancing at her chest, where Tath had been a silent witness for the last twenty-four hours. His expression was unreadable. He struggled briefly with some decision and then made an unhappy breath and sat back. He leant his head against the wall and closed his eyes. After a few seconds he opened them and glanced at her, his gaze moving over her face and then downwards.
“Lila,” he said finally, “are you ever going to wear anything other than this appalling black military stuff?” He fingered her cotton vest, tugged the neckline down, and gave a disapproving glance at her functional plain bra, also black.
“I…” she began, confused by his changes of focus. “I never really thought about it.”
“I did,” he replied and reached out to the side of the bed where he found a long, silk-wrapped package. He handed it to her.
&
nbsp; She was so surprised, she didn’t know what to say. It was heavy. The rich purple silk satin flowed over her hands like mercury between the lilac ribbons that bound it up in a tight roll. Small tags of exotic, jewelled fabric hung at the top and bottom, the maker’s name silver stitched onto them. She read it, “Slazar and the Dark Lady,” and then looked up at Zal with puzzlement.
“A demon and a faery,” he said, nodding at the parcel. “Very exclusive.”
She undid the ribbons, not knowing what to say. Among the folds of wrapping she found amulets and talismans, and Zal told her how each one was put there to protect the contents from evil influences of any kind during shipping. Each one in itself was lovely—a piece of carved wood, thin as paper, a filigree dragon, a paper covered in shooting stars that flickered with real light… She couldn’t find anywhere safe to put them until Zal held out his hand and took them, saving them from the mud.
Then, as she got to the last part and the silk gave way to soft brushed linen that was tougher altogether, she heard the faint sound of music rising up from the package. Funky guitar and a heavy rock bassline. She looked up at Zal and saw him smirking, his body automatically starting to dance to the beat in small ways as he heard it too. “Powerful charms,” he said, smiling at her with such sweetness she felt suddenly at a total loss for words. That he could be like this after everything that had just happened made her feel humbled beyond speaking.
She unfolded the linen and for a moment she didn’t know what she was looking at. It was dark, but rich with the intense jewel colours of violet, emerald, scarlet, and azure that skated across its surface. It was heavy, almost rigid in places, and it was scaled with thin crystal sheets that made it appear fishlike. There was satin. There was lace. There was leather. There were billions of tiny stitches in different colours marking the position of planets, the movement of tides, tiny animals, insects, and plants. There was fabric that fell like a liquid and shimmered with grey, cloud colours. It was only when she tried to pick it up and it opened out in her hands that she realised what she was holding.
Armour.
She examined it for a while, mouth ajar, lost for words. It was light. It was strong. “This is sexy,” she said, and she didn’t mean simply its resemblance to a corset.
“Yes it is,” he said. “Also, tricky.”
“Tricky?” She jumped up to try it on. There was some strange halfway house thing between a belt, a pelvic brace, a French knicker, and a miniskirt that she hoped wasn’t too girly. For some reason she resented the idea of wearing a skirt to fight.
“They make it in various types-depending on your style-like Righteous, Wrathful, Clever, Artful, Slayer… that kind of thing. The magical properties it has are focused around the fighter.”
“So what’s mine?” She got the pants on, demurely keeping a sliver of personal underwear beneath, and felt them slide around like hands, fitting themselves to her. When they were done the flouncy parts adjusted themselves until they were less like a pretty little ruffle and more like a plain valance. The colour shifted from dove grey to black.
Zal observed these changes with interest. “Tricky,” he said.
She hesitated and looked at him, the corset open in one hand, vest and bra in the other. “But I’m not tricky,” she said. “I’m really… I suppose it doesn’t come in Grimly Predictable Robotic?”
“I know what you think you are,” he said. “But I think this is the best one for you.”
She dropped the old clothes and started wrestling with the top half. “Why don’t you wear it?”
“I prefer things as they are,” he said, shrugging in his elvers armour that was little more than ordinary clothing with some added leather and belts. “I have enough problems being contradictory as it is. Wouldn’t want to mess that up. I’m a simple person.”
She snorted. After another minute of struggling, she had it on. It had shoulderguards, which she’d never worn before, and although it was corsetlike it preserved modesty with a serious intent and kept its neckline suitably high. The symbols and stitches on it shifted slightly. She thought, though she was sure she imagined it, that it was breathing by itself.
“Better have something like this for Faery anyway,” Zal said, giving her a once-over. “Even if you want to go back to your Serious Soldier look after. They like Tricky things. Every advantage is worth taking.”
Lila opened her wardrobe door to look in the full-length mirror, and nearly screamed.
“What?” Zal said quickly, though he didn’t move. He watched her with narrowed eyes. She got the impression he’d been expecting something like this, even if he didn’t know what it would be.
She looked at the figure before her and it was herself, wearing the armour, an ordinary reflection. But for a split second she hadn’t seen that at all. It had been so quick she was almost at a loss to recall it now, but for an instant she’d seen another woman in her place—a tall girl with dark brown hair and skin, and large eyes the colour of the night sky.
And then instead of that girl she saw a clockwork metal witch. At the same time as being clockwork she was skeletal, a corpse, already dead: she held swords and her hands dripped with blood. Her silver eyes were mirrors in which could be seen a human woman with red hair. Behind and to the witch’s left was a tall golden-haired elf with black, empty eyes, clad in bone. Behind her and to her right was a gigantic creature hidden in red and yellow fire. The three of them each had an arm extended and upon their outstretched hands lay an enormous, strange sword, its skin-bound grip large enough for three hands. The blade glowed almost white hot. From its edges drops of blood fell like water and flickered into fire. The fire spelled words before shattering into sparks and dying away. Words, sentences, libraries, wikis fell from it like waterfalls.
This she had seen in a second in the mirror.
Lila waited but the vision did not come back. Her image did change however. It flickered, like a bad recording. She kept seeing fragments of the first image here and there, the bone beneath the flesh, the pistons under her armour-clad limbs, the blinding light of the tokamak core.
She told it as best she could to Zal, who got up and stood behind her. “I just see you,” he said. He sounded sorry. “I had no idea it had this kind of Hoodoo on it. Working here, too.” He shook his head slightly and his expression became grim. “Faeries,” he muttered under his breath.
“I’ll just stay well away from mirrors,” she said, pretending an air of casual acceptance while she struggled to shake off the momentary chill that the sight had given her. But Zal turned her towards him and unerringly took hold of the silver spiral which now lay unconcealed at her collarbones. “Maybe it’s because this is here.”
“Do you know what it is?”
“It’s something that Poppy and Vid don’t want to be caught with, and that’s bad enough. It must have a lot of power. Usually they like power, so I don’t know why they gave this away.”
“It’s….” but she was silenced by his hand clapping over her mouth. He shook his head.
“Don’t say it. I think you should hide it. There are more fey here than you realise and not all of them are friendly. Absolutely all of them are power hungry. Your sister needs a quick lesson in running doss houses for the kindly ones. Well, needed it. Too late now.”
Lila frowned. “I really must go and see her.” Suddenly she felt anxious, very anxious to see Max. “Don’t entirely get out of bed. I’ll see if I can wheedle a tray out of her…” she said, picking up one of her old T-shirts and throwing it over herself. It covered her to midthigh and hid the necklaces and armour from ordinary sight. She opened the door.
There was no hallway. There was a scrubby bit of grassland cowering under a fitful wind, grey skies, and low hills covered in purple heather. Cold air swirled and bit its way past her into the room. She slammed the door shut. Beyond it she could hear distinctly the muttering sound of fey in conversation and the familiar creak of the third step down as someone came running upstairs. Seco
nds later there was knocking.
“Lila, it’s me, Malachi. Let me in.”
He sounded breathless, almost frightened.
She opened the door and the wide moorland stared at her and her little hidey hole. She closed it. “I can’t.”
Behind her she felt Zal’s warm presence. His voice was quite grim. “I don’t suppose you wished for something?”
“No,” she said, but she was aware, confirmed by Tath’s mute nod of recognition, that in the world of thought-before-words she had been entertaining the idea of wanting to be alone with Zal, somewhere nobody could bother them. At least for a while.
“What’s behind the door?” Malachi asked, as if it were quite normal for spaces to change themselves around when you weren’t looking.
Lila told him. “Where is it?” she demanded.
“Faery,” he said. “Although where in Faery I have no idea. How many times did you open the door?”
“Twice,” she said.
“Next time is the last time,” he said. “After that you won’t hear me anymore and you’ll have to leave. Did you see anything particular?”
She did her best to describe the scenery.
“It sounds like Umeval to me,” he said, though his word meant nothing to her. “You’d better go through and try to stay out of trouble. I’ll track you down. Whatever you do, do not take any leftward turns. You’re already far in.”
“Leftward?”
“Widdershins. Takes you further inside. In fact, don’t take any turns. Try to stay close to where you are. Let Zal do any talking you have to do. Don’t show anyone the… just don’t show them anything. Stick tight.” He sounded like someone trying to hide how tense they were.
Lila looked down as he was talking. She could see the hall light shining under her door and the twin shadows of Malachi’s legs. “I think the door’s all right,” she said. None of her senses could detect anything untoward. She bent down and tried to slide her finger under but there wasn’t enough room. She made her finger into a mirror and slid that under. In its small reflection she saw Malachi’s extended form, swirling faintly with black anthracite dust. “I can see you.”
Going Under Page 19
