Poison Fruit

by Jacqueline Carey

  “You know, you’re the reason we can’t be together,” I said to the wolf. It cocked its head at me, ears pricked. “No offense. I know it’s not your fault. I’m just saying.”

  The wolf merely continued to regard me.

  I sighed. “Go on. Go hunt the bogle.”

  It turned and trotted into the darkness, muzzle low to the ground.

  Let me tell you, it is not easy to follow a hunting wolf, night vision or not. I did my best, stumbling after the Cody-wolf on the frozen ground he seemed to glide over with effortless ease, trying to ignore the ominous creaking trees as the wolf made a circuit of this particular area of the camp.

  I caught up with the wolf on the verge of a dense thicket where he’d paused to stare into the darkness. I was sure he was about to go where I’d have a hell of a time following, but to my surprise, he sniffed the ground, then turned and headed back toward the camp at that deceptively speedy trot.

  The wolf made a beeline for a building with a wooden sign in the front reading MESS HALL, halting in front of the door.

  “You’re sure about that?” I said dubiously. “Ellie said the bogle’s haunt was in the woods.”

  Raising one paw, the wolf scratched at the door.

  “Okay, okay.” I turned the doorknob and found it locked. “Looks like a pretty old door,” I said to the wolf. “Let’s try the credit card trick.”

  I didn’t have a credit card on me, but I had my police ID card. The Cody-wolf obligingly got out of my way, sitting on its haunches on the cold ground behind me, panting softly and watching with its tongue lolling while I slid my ID card between the door and the frame and wiggled it in an effort to jimmy the lock. I was so focused on the task at hand, I forgot to be apprehensive about what I might find on the other side.

  “I think I’ve almost—”

  With a jerk, the door swung abruptly inward.

  I let out a shriek as a tall black figure with eyes like molten lava, pointy, misshapen features, and bony hands the size of catcher’s mitts lunged at me, teeth bared. I flung up a shield at the same time I hurled myself backward, tripping over the wolf and falling hard on my back on the frozen earth, knocking the wind out of me.

  The Cody-wolf growled and launched itself at the figure, which staggered backward into the mess hall under the impact.

  Oh, crap.

  I got to my hands and knees, lungs working in a futile effort to draw breath. The sounds of battle inside the mess hall didn’t bode well. Concentrating, I willed my diaphragm to unspasm.

  It worked well enough that I was able to get to my feet and stumble into the mess hall after the wolf and the bogle. Sure enough, they were locked in combat. The bogle was on its back, long-fingered hands with too many knuckles and sharp black nails clamped around the wolf’s throat. The wolf snarled and snapped, its muzzle inches from the bogle’s face.

  “Cody!” I wheezed. “Down, boy! We need to question him!”

  The wolf ignored me, continuing its efforts to lunge forward and tear out the bogle’s throat.

  On the floor of the mess hall, the bogle rolled its molten-lava eyes at me. “You brought a werewolf?” he said. “Dude, that’s a little extreme.”

  “Maybe you should have thought of that before you scared the ever-loving crap out of me,” I retorted. “Cody, please! Back off!”

  “Hey, you’re the one trying to break into my crib.” The bogle’s long, sticklike arms were beginning to tremble. “A little help?”

  Straddling them both, I wrapped my arms around the wolf’s lean torso, planted my heels, and hauled with all my strength. The wolf squirmed out of my grip with terrifying strength and agility, turning on me with a savage growl as I fell backward.

  “Cody,” I whispered, grabbing two fistfuls of the thick, coarse pelt around his neck. “It’s me. Daisy.” The wolf didn’t move, continuing to growl low and deep in its throat, lips drawn back from its teeth.

  “Hang on.” Behind us, the bogle clambered to its feet. “I’ll get a chair and bash that bad boy over the head.”

  “Don’t you dare!” I gazed into Cody-the-wolf’s eyes, trying to find a trace of Cody-the-human in there. “Cody, come on. Please?” After a long hesitation, the wolf backed off. Heaving a sigh of relief, I clambered to my feet. The wolf angled itself into a position where it could keep watch over both me and the bogle, sitting on its haunches and looking alert. I waited a moment to see if Cody intended to shift back, but apparently not. Since shifting would have left him naked, shivering, and unarmed, staying in wolf form was probably the right choice. “Hi,” I said to the bogle, peeling off my glove to flash my rune-marked left palm at him. “Daisy Johanssen. I’m here on Hel’s business.”

  “Aw, man!” The bogle looked disappointed, or at least I thought so. It was hard to tell on features that looked like they’d been hewn out of thorny black wood. “I totally took you for a human, dude.”

  “Yeah, well, you just attacked Hel’s liaison,” I said. “I’m afraid that’s going to be a big black mark in the official ledger.”

  “Shit.” The bogle scratched at its lank, mossy hair. “No fair! Any way you can let me off with a warning?”

  “Maybe,” I said. “What’s your name?” It hesitated. I lowered my right hand to dauda-dagr’s hilt, drawing it to reveal a few inches of blade. “Come on, dude. Don’t make me threaten you with cold steel.”

  The bogle’s glowing orange eyes widened and it backed away. “Seriously? That’s harsh.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” I withdrew another inch of blade. “Your name?”

  In a reluctant tone, the bogle said a word filled with consonants and crackling sounds that sounded like a bundle of sticks breaking. “Skrrzzzt.”

  “Okay, um, Skrrzzzt.” I sheathed dauda-dagr. “If you can tell me what I want to know, I’ll give you a clean record.”

  “Fire away.” The bogle shrugged. “Hey, you want a beer? I’ve got beer. Scored it off some high school kids who thought they’d have themselves a little party out here.” He grinned, baring sharp yellow teeth. “Man, were they scared!”

  “No thanks,” I said.

  “Suit yourself,” the bogle said. “Mind if I indulge? My nerves are shot to hell.”

  “Go right ahead.” I watched the bogle pad over to fish a can of beer out of a case stashed on a trestle table. “So you’re just lurking out here waiting to scare people?”

  “Dude, I’m a bogle.” Skrrzzzt pointed to himself with one over-articulated finger. “It’s what we do.”

  “I thought your haunt was in the woods.”

  “It used to be.” He cracked open the can and took a long swig. “Oh, man! That’s better. Anyway, yeah. I’ve scared the shit out of at least four generations of campers.”

  “I’m surprised we never got any complaints,” I said.

  The bogle laughed. “Are you kidding? I’m an institution in this neck of the woods. The counselors loved me. I kept those kids in line, man. No one ever snuck out of their cabins twice on my watch.” He shook his head. “So sad to see it go. What a shame. I figure hanging around here to scare off trespassers is the least I can do.”

  “What are you going to do if the property’s developed?” I couldn’t help being curious.

  “Good question.” With a wary glance at the wolf, Skrrzzzt pulled a couple of folding chairs around. “Have a seat,” he offered, taking one himself and crossing the ankle of one long, bony leg over the opposite knee. “I don’t know. If enough families with kids move in, maybe I can strike a deal with the homeowners’ association.” His orange eyes brightened like lava surging in a volcano. “Hey, would you be willing to negotiate it? First contact’s always a little awkward, if you know what I mean.”

  “I bet,” I said. “Sure, we can talk about it when the time comes.”

  “Awesome.” He took another long pull on his beer. “So what can I help you with today?”

  I sat opposite him. “Do you know anything about a Night Hag that’s been preying on people
?”

  The bogle shook his head. “Not in Pemkowet. I knew a few in ye olde country back in the day.”

  “Well, there’s one here now,” I said. “And she’s definitely not welcome. Can you tell me how to catch her?”

  “Sure,” he said obligingly. “Easy-peasy. You just have to bind her with a strand of her own hair. If you do, she has to obey you.”

  “Son of a bitch!” Call me gobsmacked. “Are you kidding me?” I said. “Hair? Stacey Brooks was right?”

  “Huh?”

  “Never mind.” I waved one hand. “Just thinking out loud. So, um, how do I go about finding the Night Hag and getting a strand of her hair?”

  “Yeah, that’s the tricky part.” Skrrzzzt grimaced and downed the last of his beer, crumpling the can in one bony hand. “See, you don’t find a Night Hag. She finds you. I mean, the bit about the hair is pretty straightforward—all you have to do is pluck a strand and knot it around her neck. But she has to enter your nightmare in order for you to do it.”

  “There’s no other way?” I asked.

  “Nope.”

  Thinking, I touched the silver acorn whistle nestled beneath my two layers of coats. Maybe it was time to put the token to use. “But the Oak King could command her as a member of the fey, right?”

  “Eh, not really.” The bogle pursed his leathery black lips. “See, we’re pretty informal in these parts, but technically speaking, we’re members of different courts.”

  “Courts?” I echoed.

  “I know! It sounds so archaic, right?” Skrrzzzt glanced around before leaning forward. “Truth be told, I consider myself a libertarian,” he said in a confidential tone. “But when it comes down to brass tacks, bogles and Night Hags are members of the Unseelie Court and his majesty only presides over members of the Seelie Court.”

  I sighed. “So the Oak King is a no-go.”

  The bogle settled back in his chair, jiggling the long-toed, thorny foot crossed over his knee. “’Fraid so.”

  “Okay,” I said. “So you’re basically saying I have to lure the Night Hag into my dreams to catch her?”

  He looked apologetic. “Pretty much.”

  “Any suggestions?” I asked.

  “Well, they’re summoned by nightmares, especially really intense ones. I could try scaring you again,” he said helpfully. “Do you think it might do the trick?”

  I smiled at him. “I’m sure it would, but not if I’m expecting it. Thanks, Skrrzzzt. You’ve been a big help.”

  The bogle shrugged. “No problem, mamacita. So we’re cool? It’s all good in the hood?”

  “Yep.” I stood. “We’re cool.” I glanced at the wolf. “Are you ready to go, partner?” The wolf stood. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  I have to admit, I was feeling very House Stark of Winterfell as I departed into the cold darkness, Cody trotting beside me like my own personal direwolf. At least until we got back to the bench beside the jungle gym where Cody had stashed his gear and he shifted back to human form and began scrambling into his clothes, his teeth chattering.

  “So did you get all that?” I asked him. He grunted in response, fumbling with the buttons on his flannel shirt. I took off my gloves. “Here, let me help.” I knew from personal experience that Cody’s manual dexterity wasn’t at its best when he was still a little wolfy.

  “I can do it, Daise,” Cody said in a rasping voice, turning away from me.

  “Fine.” I shoved my hands into the pockets of his Carhartt jacket. “Oops.”

  “What?” He gave me a sidelong glance.

  “No car keys,” I said. “They must have fallen out when I tripped over you. Or possibly when I was doing my damnedest to wrestle you off the bogle.”

  “Sorry.” To his credit, Cody did look abashed. He sat down on the bench to put on his socks and boots. “Once instinct kicks in, it’s almost impossible to turn it off. You took a big risk trying to pull me off that thing.”

  I shrugged. “You wouldn’t hurt me. Not like that, anyway. I trust you. I even trust your wolf.”

  He laced his boots. “You shouldn’t.”

  “Well, I do.” I slid his jacket from my shoulders, laying it on the bench beside him. “Here. I’ll go get the keys.”

  I backtracked to the mess hall, where Skrrzzzt was leaning against the doorjamb in a jaunty pose, the keys to Cody’s truck dangling from one long, knobby finger. “Looking for these, mamacita?”

  “Yeah.” I took the keys. “Thanks.”

  “Sure.” The bogle peered into the darkness, then lowered his voice. “Hey, so are you and the werewolf an item or what?”

  I smiled wryly. “Unfortunately, or what.”

  “Yeah, I thought I picked up on a little somethin’ somethin’ there.” Skrrzzzt nodded in sympathy. “You want me to jack his truck? Maybe a little alone time in the woods at night will get his romantic juices flowing. It always worked for the campers,” he added. “Right up until the point where I scared the bejeezus out of them.”

  “I appreciate the offer,” I said. “But his juices are fine. It’s more of a noncompatible-species issue.”

  “Bummer.”

  “Yeah.” There was something unexpectedly touching about being on the receiving end of his sympathy. Who knew a bogle would be so much easier to talk to than, say, a naiad or a hellebore fairy? Though I suppose it helped that his vocabulary appeared to come straight out of the mouths of the latest generation or two of campers rather than some Shakespearean Insult Generator. “Thanks again, Skrrzzzt.”

  He offered me a huge, gnarly-looking fist. “Gimme some dap.”

  “You got it, son.” That was something I’d heard Jen’s twelve-year-old kid brother and his friends say to each other. I bumped my fist against Skrrzzzt’s. It felt like knocking on a knot of wood. “Take care.”

  The bogle flashed me a hideous grin. “I always do, mamacita.”

  Sixteen

  “So let me make sure I’ve got this straight.” Behind the steering wheel, Cody glanced at me. “All you need is a strand of the Night Hag’s hair to bind her.”

  “Right,” I said.

  “Except the only way to get it is to lure her into a nightmare.”

  “Yep.”

  Both of us thought about that in silence for a moment. “We might have to consider using someone she’s already targeted as bait,” Cody said reluctantly. “Get them to remove the protective charms.”

  “Not the Reynolds kid,” I said. “He’s only seven. Remember, the Night Hag is only corporeal to her victims. It’s not like we can use one to summon her and then take charge. Even if his parents would go for it, which they wouldn’t, you can’t ask a seven-year-old to try to bind a fucking nightmare.”

  “No.” Cody drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “But that only leaves Scott Evans.”

  “Scott Evans throttled his wife and nearly blew his brains out the last time the Night Hag attacked him,” I pointed out. “Do we really want to take a chance on a repeat performance?”

  Cody blew out his breath in a sigh. “We’re screwed, aren’t we?”

  “Not necessarily,” I said. “I mean, there are things you can do to induce nightmares, right? Watch scary movies before bedtime?”

  He spared me another glance. “You want to take her down yourself, don’t you?”

  “Look, I’m not thrilled by the prospect, but I sure as hell don’t want any innocent victims to suffer further damage,” I said. “This damn Night Hag is here without permission and she’s preying on fragile mortals in Hel’s territory. That makes her my responsibility.”

  One corner of Cody’s mouth quirked in a smile. “I kind of like it when you get all territorial, Pixy Stix.”

  “And I kind of like it when you tease me,” I murmured. “Which is why I wish you wouldn’t.”

  “Daise—”

  I looked at him. “Don’t.”

  “Okay.” He was silent for a moment. “So what’s your plan? Go home and watch a scary movie, ea
t a big sandwich before bed?”

  “Basically, yeah,” I admitted. “Only . . . crap, I forgot about Mrs. Browne.”

  “From the bakery?”

  “She’s a brownie,” I reminded him. “Talk about territorial . . . I don’t think a Night Hag would dare attack someone in a building that’s been claimed and protected by a brownie. And Mrs. Browne comes in every night to bake.”

  “Can’t you just ask her to take the night off?” Cody asked.

  I shook my head. “You can’t ask a brownie for anything. They bail if you do. And if Mrs. Browne’s bakery shut down—”

  “—Amanda Brooks would have a cow,” he finished. “Hell, she wouldn’t be the only one. You’d probably be run out of town if you were responsible for shutting down Mrs. Browne’s Olde World Bakery, Daise.”

  “No kidding,” I said. “I’d hate to lose her, too. Most of the time I’m grateful to know she’s there in the wee hours.”

  “So do it at my place,” Cody said without looking at me.

  “Werewolves aren’t territorial?” I said with a lightness I didn’t feel. “I’m not buying it.”

  “Only when it comes to other clans.” He gave me a quick glance. “Look, Daisy, I’d actually feel a lot better about it if you did. I’d do it myself if I could, but if something attacked me in my sleep . . .” He let the sentence trail off.

  “You’d shift?” I asked.

  Cody nodded.

  “Yeah, it would be pretty hard to pluck a strand of someone’s hair with paws,” I agreed. “And I doubt a Night Hag would attack a werewolf in the first place. I’m guessing they just prey on humans.”

  “What makes you so sure she’d attack you?” he asked.

  “I’m not,” I said. “I’m just hoping I’m human enough to fool her, what with not having claimed my birthright and all.”

  Cody pulled into the alley alongside my apartment building and parked. “So are we going to do this or not?”