At once, a darkness began to tear itself free of Durgan. A shadow, it seemed, distorted and wicked in shape. Screeching, it fled from the light, seeking to find a place to hide, but Tom continued to play his wild strasphey, sending tendrils of light pursuing the creature. They wrapped about the shadow, pulling tight as ropes.
“Turn on the lights!” Tom ordered, and Katie flitted from her sanctuary behind the circulation desk to bolt across the room. She flipped the switches by the door, casting a spray of fluttering fluorescence over the chamber.
The creature screamed, jerking weakly against the magical bonds as Tom kept playing. But its struggles soon weakened, and the light began to eat great holes in its darkness until there was nothing left. Only then did Tom stop his strings, letting his magic light fade so only the garish lavender-white remained.
Durgan, who had stood as stiff as a post, now collapsed to the floor in a heap. In an instant, Tom and Dan were at the library director’s side. Katie joined then, standing at Durgan’s feet. He looked pale like a corpse.
“Is he dead?” she asked, trying to keep the hopeful glimmer out of her voice.
“No, he’s merely asleep,” Tom said. “It’s not easy on a man to have a shadow goblin torn from his soul.”
“A shadow goblin,” Dan said.
“Aye, a rare, but nasty beast,” Tom said. “The Erl-King uses them to control others. They become the shadow of the man, taking over his thoughts and actions and controlling him completely. No doubt, The Erl-King found having Durgan under a thumb useful.”
“He doesn’t have him now,” Katie said.
“Aye,” Tom said and grinned. “We can leave the poor gyte here for now. He’ll sleep several hours.”
“Good,” Katie said, heading into the office and drawing the keys from her pocket. “Okay, Tom, where is this entrance to the gates?”
“This way,” Tom said cheerfully, gathering his harp to join her.
She saw Dan shake his head as he reclaimed his own gun from Durgan’s pocket before entering the office.
TWENTY
The keyholes were neatly concealed in the knotwork pattern that decorated the mantelpiece of the fireplace. When the keys were turned, the ponderous grind of stone filled the room. The whole fireplace moved out and aside as though by magic, though Tom insisted it was little more than good mechanical physics. They were greeted by stairs, descending to a landing, turning left and descending again, always to a perfect square. Katie lost count of the number of turns that were taken before they reached the bottom. A straight corridor faced them, ending at a set of heavy doors.
“This is where the going gets rough,” Tom said in a quiet voice. “Like as not, when darkness falls, there’ll be goblins guarding the other side.”
“How would they have get across that underground stream with the crossing going to the other side?” she insisted, her shotgun held before her.
Tom made a face. “Well, it is possible, if they’ve built a proper bridge of magic, that they could be on the other side of this door.”
“What constitutes a proper bridge of magic?” Dan asked.
Tom looked uneasy. “The bones of men.”
Katie made a face. Somehow, she didn’t care for the sound of that, especially since there was no telling how they would have come by the bones.
“Henry and Bud,” Dan muttered, almost as though reading her mind.
“Only if the faery like lazy bones for their bridges,” Katie said. Dan grimaced.
Tom put a hand to the door, taking a deep breath. “Is everyone ready?” he asked.
“Do we have an option?” Katie said. “It’s almost sundown.”
Tom shook his head. Dan drew his service revolver. He still had the poker clutched in the other hand.
“Be ready to draw the flag, Lady Katie,” Tom said.
Cautiously, he pushed against one of the doors. It fell open under his hand, swinging in to reveal a misty haze and a pale blue glow like foxfire dancing about among the roots of the tree. Katie quickly followed Tom in, and Dan trailed after her, leaving the door ajar until Tom motioned that it should be shut. Dan looked disbelieving, but he pushed it shut and the dull thud was like a cell door locking to Katie. She closed her eyes and swallowed. This was no time to start wishing she could be elsewhere. I’m stuck here until I see this through, she thought.
So far, there were no signs of goblins on this side of the tree, though there was something gleaming white laid across the trench formed by the stream, a bridge that looked too unsure in Katie’s opinion. And it was indeed made of bones. Two skeletons had been dismantled. Shoulder blades rested on each bank, arms stretched across the stream. Hands were linked across the water and ribs had been lashed between the arms to form a footpath. Thighbones had been implanted into the ground on either side to form the foundations of a railing linked to other leg bones. And gleaming skulls had been set, one on either side of the bridge, grinning towards the three. Katie bit back the desire to moan. A gold front tooth decorated one of those grins. Bud and Henry!
She briefly turned away.
“Draw the flag, Lady Katie,” Tom said in a quiet voice. “We must cross that bridge to reach the gates.”
From where they stood, Katie saw that the gates did go through the tree. At least they seemed to, for the darkness on the rotten side of the gnarly roots was still too thick to see through, while the faint brightness of the second seemed weaker than before, but still made it impossible to see the other side.
Katie reached for the locket, reluctant to let her shotgun fall. Tom stepped up to the bridge, testing it with one foot then the other. He crossed it in three careful strides, and Katie moved forward to do the same as Tom pulled his harp around in front of him. The bones rattled faintly under her feet, reminding her of the dry gourds her mother had used as rhythm makers when Katie was a child.
She stepped onto the center island. Dan crossed the bridge behind her, looking reluctant to touch the railing. He teetered across in two long steps, practically hopping onto the shore at Katie’s side.
Was it her imagination, or did the island seem bigger from this side? For that matter, with the glow of thin blue lights, why did the roots seem to ascend ever so far over her head into an earthen dome of shadows?
“The flag,” Tom whispered again. “Draw it and summon the Seelie Lord and his army.”
“What do I say?” she asked.
“Shout your full name and state your need as you wave the flag, and Micheil will come, you can be sure of that,” Tom said. “Now hurry. I can feel the fall of night in my bones, and it will be upon us soon enough.”
Katie slid the shotgun under her arm and lifted the locket from around her neck. She flipped open the silver latch, causing the top to rise. The pale green glow flickering with starlight greeted her once more. She reached in with her fingers and pulled...
An unholy shriek began to fill the air. Katie had hardly unfurled the streaming cloth as wispy as down when a darkness began to surge out of the roots of the old tree. The Unseelie Host poured forth like a tsunami, rolling across the island towards the three.
Tom hitched back and began to play on his harp, and brightness swelled around him, causing the host to shift away. Dan raised his pistol and fired at the wretched tide of monstrosities now slithering towards Katie.
“No!” she cried, backing up and raising the flag.
At once, they were around her, pushing and shoving as though desperate to keep her off balance. None of them dared to touch the flag itself, but they had no such qualms about Katie. Tiny fingers pinched and pricked at her, snagging her hair and her clothes. Her shotgun fell from under her arm, striking the dirt. The jolt triggered one of the barrels, and a patchwork of scattershot peppered some of the Host. A few fell away, screaming to have been touched with the steel shot. Shorter range, harder punch, her mother used to say. Oh, Mother where are you now! I could use your good aim!
“Katie!” Dan shouted at her. “Look out!”
>
“Back!” a voice roared, and the Host parted like a ragged seam. In their midst stood the tall, haunting figure of the Erl-King. He towered gaunt and cadaverous, his blue skin glistening under the foxfire as he shaded his eyes from Tom’s brilliant light. The fiery eyes that met Katie’s gaze drew it like a serpent’s swaying dance of death.
“Why Katie MacLeod,” the Erl-King said. “I am flattered that you would bring me the flag.”
“In your wildest dreams!” she snapped and jerked the yards of silk up, preparing to wave it.
“NO!” the Erl-King hissed and dove forward.
Katie would have backed away, but his long talons managed to snag the cloth at its edge. He laughed at his own triumph and began to draw the length in as though it were a fisherman’s net, pulling Katie along. She found herself in a tug-of-war against a creature whose strength must have been five times her own.
“Let go, you dried up old myth!” she cried and tried desperately to pull back, knowing if she was not careful, she would end up in the stream. But she couldn’t let go, not knowing what the Erl-King would do once he had the flag.
The Erl-King taunted her rage with laughter, drawing her slowly closer. “Perhaps I will keep you as a bride, woman, for I like your spirit. It has a fire to match my own.”
“Forget it, blue man!” Dan shouted. He came in from the side, swinging the poker iron at the Erl-King’s head. The master of the Host hissed, and shifted around Katie towards the bridge, using her as a shield against Dan. It didn’t stop him. He came at the Erl-King with a howl, determined to do some damage with that poker. Only before he could make contact, something large and green moved into the fray. An ogre, by the look of it, used its club to strike upward and knock the poker from Dan’s grasp. Dan tried to get his gun around to no avail. The ogre grinned savagely as its free fist flew out, smacking Dan in the nose and popping him back as though he were a small child, leaving him sprawled in the dirt.
“Dan!” she cried, wanting to rush to his side. The Erl-King began to tug the flag again, and she was drawn back to the battle to keep the cloth. “No!”
“Surrender, my Katie,” the Erl-King said with a sneer. “There is no shame in being my Queen.”
“NO!” she snapped. “Go rot yourself!”
He laughed and pulled her closer. She swore the cloth was longer than before, yet for every handful she tried to draw back to herself, she lost two. God, what would she give for a third hand and a gun just now. This was a futile fight, and she couldn’t possibly defeat him. The agony of that revelation sickened her heart.
“There is no hope,” the Erl-King said in his honey voice. “Surrender, and I might let your friends live.”
“Excuse me,” Tom said. “Would that include me?”
“Huh?” The Erl-King turned with a hiss to find Tom and his globe of magical light too close for comfort. The Unseelie Lord shrieked as Tom strengthened his playing, sending the bright illumination stretching like grasping hands. Twisting away, the Erl-King dropped the end of the cloth. At once, his Host swirled about, trying to protect him from the light, but those who dared to enter it were melted away.
In desperation, the Erl-King screamed and lunged towards Tom. That motion startled the harper. True Thomas gasped and stepped back as black talons slashed towards him. The first set went for his face, and he ducked. Light was burning the Erl-King’s blue flesh, causing it to blister, and still he came, screeching like a demented banshee. His other hand aimed for the harp. Tom seemed to understand that and tried to twist away, but like razors, the black nails caught the lower strings of the harp and cut them clean in two.
A thousand agonized notes rent the air with a song of pain not unlike a woman’s cry, as though the harp had felt the vicious blow. The magical light around Tom faltered, forcing him to draw back and seek a weapon as the Host came surging at him. In desperation, he jumped into the widest part of the running stream, and found himself in water up to his waist, holding the precious harp over his head. It’s twang of lament echoed through the chamber as the Erl-King turned. His Host gathered on the banks, teasing poor Tom, trying to slap the harp from his grasp. “No, stay away!” he cried to them. “You won’t take her from me!”
They gibbered and shouted at him as the Erl-King turned his baleful glare upon Katie. The tree was behind her now as she faced him. Her heart thundered in her chest. Those red eyes narrowed into glowing slits that sent fear coursing her skin with sweat. Where his flesh had blistered, the skin was now tattered and peeling like badly glued wallpaper.
“Too bad,” the Erl-King said. “True Thomas seems to have lost his touch.”
Katie swallowed.
“Now, let us put an end to all this, for I tire of your mortal stubbornness,” The Erl-King said. “Give me the flag, Katie MacLeod, before I change my mind and let my Host have done with you. Give it to me now!”
He moved towards her with slow, deliberate steps guaranteed to frighten a more timid soul. Katie was holding the flag before her, draped so it hid her from the chest down. She glanced briefly at the shimmering cloth of stars and faery stitches and sighed.
“Okay,” she said. “You want it? Come and get it!”
A grin of tiny, pointed teeth spread. The Erl-King quickened his pace, stretching his hands. Katie continued to hold the flag right in front of her, waiting until he was near enough to close his hands over the top edge.
She kicked out from under the flag, not sure if the motion would rip the fragile faery silk, but knowing she had to try something. To her surprise, the blow was a good one, ramming her knee in the Erl-King’s groin. The blue face turned dark magenta, then pale grey as he doubled up and fell to the ground, wheezing to draw a breath through gritted teeth of pain. Briefly, Katie allowed herself a triumphant smile. My mama didn’t raise no fool, she thought as the Erl-King groveled and wretched.
At once, the Host screamed and came swirling away from their attack on Tom. Katie gasped, jerking the flag with her as she fell back from them. The tree was behind her, and she was determined to use it for a defensive position, not knowing what else she could do. There were far too many to fight, and she knew only a fool could think they would outrun such fiends.
“Wave it!” Tom cried, the voice of encouragement.
“He’s gotta be kidding!” How could she possibly wave it with the Host surrounding her? Hard to do when surrounded by a myriad of angry faeries determined to take tiny chunks out of her skin. It was all she could do to protect her face as they sometimes gouged for her eyes. They pinched and poked and shrieked at her. Pinpoints of fire covered her. No part of her escaped the cruel punishment. Was this what had happened to Lonnie before she died? Pinched and prodded until she tripped in the tub and broke her neck trying to escape them. There’s no tub here, she tried to reassure herself.
She pulled the flag up before her, causing some of them to dart away. The cloth itself seemed to scare them, and she wished she had more time to ponder why. They were forcing her along the rough roots of the tree, seeming to herd her towards the dark gate.
No! she thought. Not there! If they forced her through their dark gate, she would be their prisoner for eternity! She jerked, pushed back against them, pushing the flag at them, desperate to save her eyes from tiny talons that scored her flesh. Blood and sweat were mingling in her eyes where they scored her forehead. Her already wounded shirt was becoming tatters as they ripped at her. Still, she fought back, slapping at them, pushing at them, determined to stay away from the dark gate.
Her heel caught on a root, and she felt herself tumble. With a startled cry, still grappling to hang onto the flag, Katie fell. Only she didn’t hit the ground. Instead, she passed through a large hole full of soft light.
“Not that gate, you fools!” she heard the Erl-King roar. “Quickly! Out into the world! I will create my own darkness! We must take this town before they come!”
They? she wondered briefly. But so far, she had found more cause for concern. She didn’
t seem to be over anything at all. Instead, she fell in slow motion, like a feather gently descending, which did not stop her from crying out, “NO!” as she thrashed her limbs. The flag came with her, unfurling through the softness that was like a mass of clouds. She had been on an airplane twice in her life, during the trip to Scotland with her folks, and she recalled a cloudbank they passed through just before landing in Glasgow. It had looked a lot like this, only then she hadn’t felt her stomach going up into her ribs in fright.
And then she landed with a “whoof” on a soft bed of moss. The furls of the flag fell on top of her, covering her in twinkling layers. The silk was almost smothering now, and she sputtered, shoving it away from her face, cursing like a sailor, then paused. A ring of pale robes, gleaming white with gold and silver trim surrounded her. She saw gauzy capes fluttering in grasp of the softest wind, and from the ground, they could have been feathery wings for all she could tell in the unfocused light.
“Oh, swell,” she muttered, looking up.
Forward from the rest stood a tall being with beautiful, eldritch features. His blond hair was so pale as to seem white, and where it flowed around his face, it parted over pointed ears. His eyes were glittering sapphires of light. He gazed down on Katie with a smile.
Her eyes went to the object he clutched in one hand, a silvery sword whose blade flickered with the light of flames.
TWENTY ONE
“Are you Micheil?” Katie said before the thought stupid question had time to form in her mind.
The tall being’s brows arched gracefully. He glanced at his companions, kneeling down to brace the point of the sword in the ground. “And who are you that you should know my name, mortal lady?” he asked.
Angels of Mercy Page 20
