The Stolen: An American Faerie Tale

by O'Connell, Bishop

  Edward put his hands to his ears and saw more of them encircling the group of cars. The banshees seemed to be coming out of the darkness itself. Somehow, the other cars on the road didn’t react any differently. They just kept moving aside as the elves darted back and forth, dodging and firing.

  Dante fired off several shots and took an exit. In moments, they were out of the tunnel and back on city streets. The GPS said they were closing on their destination.

  Edward’s heart felt as if it was going to explode when the air was torn apart by a high, shrill scream. His stomach dropped as a complete and devastating fear took hold of him, shutting down his brain. He vaguely heard windows breaking around him as he began to shake uncontrollably. He barely noticed that everyone kept firing as they tore down the streets and flew around corners with tires squealing.

  “Hold on!” Dante threw the wheel to the left and the car slid sideways before coming to a stop.

  Edward slammed against the inside of the door, shaking and still unable to move or think. The other cars slid to a stop around them, creating a circle of steel.

  One of the banshees reached for Edward through the window, its hand passing through the glass as if it didn’t exist.

  He screamed as he saw the face of an old woman who’d been tortured for decades and dead for years. Her eyes were red, and the mouth stretched in a shriek, exposing twisted yellow teeth. On her back were incorporeal wings.

  Dante fired his submachine gun. Edward pulled himself into a fetal ball, trying to squirm away as glass rained down on him. The bullets struck the banshee and her wings. Puffs of darkness burst from her wounds, and she fell to the ground.

  “No, no, no!” Edward closed his eyes tight and pressed his hands harder to his ears, trying to block out the wailing. His heart pounded so hard he thought it might burst. “It’s hopeless, all hopeless,” he whispered.

  Dante opened his door, rolled out, and began shooting.

  Edward sat there, alone and terrified, until somewhere deep inside him, in a place the fear hadn’t gotten to, something stirred. At first, it was anger, but he soon realized the anger was just at the surface. Deeper and stronger was love. It surprised Edward. He wasn’t thinking of those who’d taken Fiona, but of Fiona and Caitlin themselves. It was a warmth that melted away the fear. The warmth was powerful and persistent, not like that flash of anger. And, unlike the anger, this calmed his mind and heart.

  Edward opened his eyes, then his door, and stepped out. Everything was moving in slow motion. He noticed there was no sound at all, but maybe going deaf was for the best.

  He watched the silent pandemonium around him with detached horror. A banshee came from behind Nollaig and lifted him from the ground. It twisted his head and tossed him through the air, where he vanished from sight.

  Riley’s gun clicked empty. He jumped onto the hood of his car and then through the air, toward the banshee that had taken Nollaig. In midleap, he drew his swords and cut. The banshee dropped like a stone, and Riley tucked into a ball, rolling as he hit the ground. He came to his feet with both swords ready, and in moments, oíche and small, stunted creatures with bright red stocking hats were on him.

  Daire fired into another banshee that was coming straight at him. Her face erupted in bursts of darkness, but her speed carried too much momentum. She hit Daire and drove him over the hood of the car and into the asphalt, where they both slid for several feet, then neither moved.

  Edward reached into the warmth that had now spread through his whole body and gathered it to him. He raised his hand and spoke softly. “Aer!” He heard nothing, but a blast of wind struck a banshee from above and drove her down until she hit a parked car, which crumpled. Clouds of darkness filled with tiny red lights exploded from the dozens of wounds where the car’s bare steel had cut her. In seconds, the banshee vanished.

  Dante was shouting at Edward. Faint sounds began to grow at the edge of his perception.

  “Can you hear me?” Dante screamed.

  The noise of the battle abruptly returned. “Yes,” Edward said.

  “We can’t stay here,” Dante said. “We have to get to the warehouse.”

  Edward saw the others closing in, trying to defend them. The other elves leapt over cars and evaporating banshee corpses. At the edge of his mind, Edward felt a slight buzzing. He tried to push it back. He was going too big. He had to keep his magic small and focused.

  “Go, now!” Dante drew his swords, ran up and across a car, and leapt. In a move that any kung-­fu star would envy, he spun in midair, cut through two banshees, and landed in a roll. He cut down an oíche as he sprang to his feet.

  Edward drew up his courage and climbed over the car. There was a flash in the corner of his eye and the bark of gunfire. He dove for cover as several oíche began shooting at them. Everyone huddled on the far side of the car.

  Padraig popped up and fired, dropping two oíche before his gun clicked empty. He replaced the magazine and turned to Dante. “We’re getting overrun.”

  “Keep moving, and protect the wizard.” Dante sprang to his feet and charged the oíche.

  Faolan, Arlen, Quinn, and Sean moved between the cars as they fired, but soon they were pinned down. The elves circled around Edward as best they could, continuing to fire at the banshees and countless other dark creatures. Over and over, they emptied magazines, replaced them, and then emptied those, but more creatures kept coming. However, less and less return gunfire could be heard. Edward hoped that meant the oíche were running low on ammunition as well.

  One oíche bounded over a car at them, no gun, but with teeth and claws bared.

  Quinn drew and swung his swords at it.

  The oíche twisted, barely missing the blade, and landed on the far side from Quinn. Then it came at Edward.

  Edward focused his will on the hood of the car. “Denu haearn!” Magic leapt from him and the hood flipped open, hitting the oíche square in the face. It was knocked back into the roof and through the windshield. Edward could just hear the shrill, dying scream as light-­tinged darkness seeped from around the edge of the bent hood.

  Steel, use the steel! Steel has iron in it!

  There was a pop and Quinn looked confused, then saw a growing golden spot on his chest. He touched it and tendrils of white light, filled with tiny blue motes, drifted away from a small hole in his vest. There were several more pops and Quinn jerked, then fell to the ground, revealing an oíche standing on another car’s roof behind him. It had some kind of high-­powered rifle leveled right at Edward.

  He focused again. “Denu haearn!”

  Again, the hood popped up. This time, there was a crashing sound, then the oíche tore the hood from its hinges and tossed it aside. Edward’s stomach dropped as the oíche grinned, raising the middle finger of a gloved hand at him.

  “Gloves? Are you kidding me?” Edward asked.

  The oíche smiled as it took aim with the rifle.

  In that moment of panic, Edward had an idea. He focused his attention. “Tân.”

  For a brief moment, nothing happened. Then there was an earth-­shattering boom as the fuel tank of the car ignited and exploded. The oíche flew through the air like a comet, and satisfaction coursed through Edward. Until, that is, other cars caught fire and began exploding, and flaming debris began raining down.

  “Move, now!” Dante shouted.

  The elves dodged falling wreckage and hurried Edward toward the warehouse at the end of the block. He stumbled as a large melted piece of, well, something, crashed into the ground, inches away. A firm hand grabbed his shoulder and yanked him several feet back.

  Dante stared at him. “Don’t do that again, please,” he said in a calm tone.

  Edward didn’t have time to apologize. Dante pulled him to the ground just before a series of bullets hit the car.

  “The steel is exposed on these,” Faolan sai
d. “Keep your distance.”

  Dante popped his head up and looked around. “We can’t stay here. Get everyone inside!”

  They made their way toward the front of the warehouse.

  As they moved, Edward saw a ­couple more oíche leap over a car, each holding a chrome pistol pointed at him.

  “I mi!” Magic surged from him.

  The pistols leapt from the oíche’s hands, and they watched with wide eyes and opened mouths as the pistols flew through the air to Edward.

  They struck his chest, sending a wave of pain through him, and he fumbled not to drop them. “Here!” he shouted and held them out to Dante.

  Dante took the offered weapons and, with a pistol in each hand, began firing at the oíche and their allies.

  They reached the door, and the elves closed in around Edward. Oíche, goblins, pùcas, banshees, the red-­capped things, and other dark creatures emerged from the shadows every time they turned. There wasn’t an army of them, but they seemed to be everywhere.

  “Get that door open,” Dante said. “Now!”

  “What I wouldn’t give to have the Fian here.” Sean began trying to kick the door down.

  “They’re regrouping. We can’t hold this position, it’s too open,” Faolan said.

  Sean continued to kick at the door, but it wasn’t budging.

  “Can’t you shoot out the lock or something?” Edward asked.

  “Only if we were in a movie,” Dante said.

  The elves around Edward were firing the last of their bullets. This was going to go hand-­to-­hand soon. There was a pulling feeling in his stomach, and Edward thought he was going to vomit. Someone was drawing a ton of power. Panic ran up his spine, but he closed his eyes tight. He couldn’t be out of the fight, not yet. He still had a job to do.

  They needed cover and time to get the door open. Edward looked around but didn’t see anything useful. They were crouched in a semicircle, with only an awning above them. There were, of course, several flaming and smoking remnants of cars around them, but—­

  It was risky, but they didn’t have much of a choice.

  “Watch out.” Edward drew as much power into him as he could manage. “Tymestl!”

  When he let the magic loose, a small tornado rose up around them, flinging dirt, rocks, debris, and anything the size of, say, a prepubescent-­sized dark faerie in all directions. Several oíche were blown off their feet and hurled through the air. They smashed into buildings, the ground, and anything else that got in their way, including their larger allies.

  Edward focused as hard as he could against a pounding headache, trying to direct and channel the focal point of the spinning wind while the elves around him huddled down, shielding their eyes. The effort of holding the magic cyclone was actually starting to make his hands ache. Then, finally, a few cars began to tumble and roll down the street toward the elves. Several stacked around them in a haphazard shelter, their fires blown out by the wind.

  The torrent died as Edward staggered and began to fall. Someone caught him and lowered him to the ground as the ice pick drove deeper into his temples. “I think I blew a fuse,” Edward said.

  “You still with us?” Dante asked.

  Edward sucked in a breath and nodded. “I think it’s starting.”

  “Sean?” Dante asked.

  “It’s a no go, the door is solid. We should’ve brought explosives.”

  Looking at the door, Edward was surprised it hadn’t rusted off its—­

  He smiled. “Let me try something.” He pushed himself up to his wobbly legs and focused his intent, ignoring the throbbing in his head.

  “Cyrydu.” The door shook, and a crashing sound came from inside the building. He focused harder, and soon a dirty red color flooded over the hinges. In seconds, they crumbled to rust, and the door toppled over, falling into the street.

  “Magister, go,” Arlen said. “We’ll hold them here. Get the wizard inside and stop it.”

  Dante shoved Edward toward the doorway as the world around him spun faster.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Edward managed to hold onto consciousness as Dante pulled him along.

  “You’re looking a little green,” Dante said once they were well inside.

  Edward put his hand to his head and took slow breaths. “I may have overdone it.” He leaned against the wall as he wrestled with the pain. In the distance he could just hear the faint sounds of the battle. They were inside some kind of office area that had long been abandoned.

  “Don’t mean to rush you, but time is sort of pressing,” Dante said.

  Edward drew in another series of slow breaths. The buzzing sound in his ears faded, and the pain at last began to ease up. “I’m okay, let’s go.”

  He followed Dante through the ruins of cubicles as the sounds outside faded.

  “It’s quiet,” Dante said, looking around. “Too—­”

  “I really hate movie quotes.”

  Dante chuckled.

  “And elves who laugh and make jokes in the face of death.”

  Edward matched Dante’s steps as quietly as he could, which, compared to the elf, was like a herd of stampeding elephants wearing tap shoes. The farther they ran, the more severe the darkness grew. When they came to a door and Dante raised a finger to his lips, Edward could hardly see it, but he complied.

  Dante put his ear to the door for about a week.

  “I think it’s clear on the other side,” he finally whispered.

  “You think? Is that supposed to fill me with confidence?”

  Dante shrugged and eased open the door. As all doors in these situations are wont to do, it creaked at about a hundred decibels. Dante stepped through first and Edward followed.

  On the other side, the darkness became complete. Even the little light that leaked in from the office area windows didn’t reach here. The door creaked shut, and they were swallowed in blackness.

  Since he was completely blind at this point, Edward stopped moving. He knew that the fear of darkness was just instinct and ancient in nature. It came from the time when animals that found humans quite tasty waited in the night. He also knew, practically speaking, that humans as a species weren’t far removed from those times. Sure, he understood the psychology behind it. However, knowing his fears were purely evolutionary didn’t remove the desire to wet his pants.

  Once more, he thought of Caitlin and Fiona and reached deep inside to the warm and comforting feelings. He allowed it to wrap him in a cloak against the fear. His mind calmed, his breathing eased, and the pain from his injuries was pushed back to the periphery of his senses.

  There weren’t many options, so he focused. “Tân.” Flame enveloped his hands, and light was cast in an impotent circle around him.

  It did help, a little. After all, for nearly as long as bad things wanted to eat humans, humans knew fire could keep those things away. He couldn’t help but wonder if any of those primordial fears were because of faeries.

  With another exertion of will, careful to keep it under control, he pushed more power into the flames. They answered by growing brighter, and the circle of light around him grew.

  “Well, so much for the element of surprise.” Dante stepped into the light.

  “I kind of thought the war raging on the curb took care of that.”

  “Fair enough, I suppose. Get behind me and watch the rear.”

  Edward turned and backed up until he felt Dante against him. He surveyed the area as best he could. The only sounds were their breathing and the crackling flames on Edward’s hands. Slowly, Dante moved forward, and Edward matched him step for step.

  “Look out!” Dante shouted and twisted to one side, bringing his sword up as he did.

  Edward dove to the ground, and as he tumbled to his back, he saw an oíche leap into the light. The oíche barely avoided
Dante’s sword, but missed with her own. The oíche landed in a roll, sprang to her feet, and ran back into the darkness.

  “I don’t know about you,” Dante said, “but I’m already sick of this game.”

  “Agreed,” Edward said, getting to his feet. “At least they’re not just shooting us, though.”

  “Great, give them ideas.”

  “You think that hasn’t occurred to them?” Edward concentrated on his left hand, whispering a word of power. Fire swirled from his palm and gathered into a ball, which he hurled into the darkness. It exploded a moment later, lighting a large section of the massive room for a split second. It was devoid of anything except oíche, who had them surrounded.

  Dante let out a sigh and shook his head. “Well, shit. Bet my stocks are down, too.”

  “Ever the eloquent Magister,” a feminine voice said from the darkness.

  “What can I say? I’m witty like that,” Dante replied. “If you want to come here, we can trade banter.”

  “Can I get in on that?” Edward asked.

  “Sure, why not?” Dante said. “That’ll be fun, we can get everyone—­”

  “Shut up!” the voice shouted. “Just kill them both, it’s almost done. Then we’ll deal with the ones outside.”

  “If you’ve got a magical ace up your sleeve,” Dante said, “this would be a good time.”

  Sweat began to run down Edward’s face. He was running on empty, but at this point, what was the risk? They were going to die if he didn’t do something.

  “Lluosi tân,” he whispered. Flame engulfed his hands once more. Several small globes of fire lifted from the dancing flames and began circling Edward and Dante in a rapid orbit. He concentrated and tried to empower the globes like the wards, letting magic flow directly into the globes instead of through him.

  He gave it a little nudge. “Ymdeithio.” A trace of magic drifted from him to the globes, which then began splitting, like a presentation on mitosis done in fire.

  “That’s not bad,” Dante said.

  Soon hundreds of little comets were circling them and spreading out, casting nearly the entire room in light. Though Edward wasn’t feeding them magic, he was holding them in orbit, and even that small effort was causing him to struggle. He was just too weak. He’d used too much, too fast, and he could almost sense the oíche waiting for him to tire. He had to assume they were out of bullets. After all, they hadn’t shot them.