The Troll-Human War
Page 15
He was damned if he was going to break his word to Svetlana. He would remain strictly neutral in all his dealings from now on.
That was, until he saw Christine again.
Chapter Nineteen
Buddy couldn’t help but chortle when the latest three-inch thick report from Lars about the state of the war landed in the center of Buddy’s sturdy, granite desk. He’d been relaxing in his office that morning, feet up on the desk, contemplating wandering down to the kitchen and snagging himself another long pork taco. Or maybe a nap. Possibly both.
Of course, he didn’t torture himself by trying to read the damned thing. No, he had minions for that. Lesser demons who would read every line and sum all the real news down to bullet points. Generally, he assigned big important lawyers who considered themselves above such things until they learned better.
What Lars didn’t realize was that by trying to obfuscate the facts of the war, it showed a huge tell, like a bullseye in the center of his long, sleek forehead. Lars wasn’t much of a poker player. Chess, maybe, but not poker.
It wasn’t that the demons were losing. Oh, no, Buddy had separate means of verifying that they were, in fact, winning.
Lars was trying to hide just how imminent that win was.
Which in turn meant that he’d finally figured out just how vulnerable he’d be once the war was over.
Buddy had to hand it to the boy. He was a smart one. Too smart for his own good. Too well planned and organized.
While winning seemed inevitable, Buddy knew better than to count on it. He kept his options open instead, with a plan for Lars’ soul should they lose, one that wouldn’t let the boy squirrel in so much on himself and plan as he had.
Buddy would not sabotage the war effort. He’d actually stopped one of the other princes from doing so. (Though in Zaatar’s defense, it wasn’t because he’d thought the consequences through. He was just pissed that it wasn’t him leading the last, final charge.)
No, Buddy had to make sure that his hands were clean no matter what happened, if they won or they lost.
Instead, Buddy focused on the other players around the table, as a good poker player did.
And there was one now.
“Come on in!” he replied to the knock he heard at the door.
The demon who slinked in was tall and slender for her kind, with spiked wings, nasty looking fangs, and glowing golden eyes. Her scales ranged in color from polluted white on her face to icy blue across her belly and back. She resembled Lars in superficial ways, like her long snout, her tail armed with spikes, and her graceful clawed hands.
All of which, Buddy knew, would make her attractive to Lars.
Except that Curly, as Lars had aptly named the bald demon, had always been in Buddy’s pocket. She’d adopted a voice certain to ensure that Lars wouldn’t necessarily listen to Curly, and instead, would discount anything she said.
When a new idea occurred to Lars, it wasn’t because Curly had planted those words in his head. No, it was a thought that was brand new to him, not because he’d heard it before.
Curly’s influence had worked brilliantly so far. And Lars had no idea whatsoever that she was a spy.
“What do you have to report?” Buddy asked, taking his feet down from the top of his desk.
“We are in the process of turning the kith and kin against each other,” Curly told him, her voice smooth and silky, a warm alto that even made Buddy consider things other than the war.
However, Buddy knew this news from the other reports. “And?” he asked.
“We’re within a few days of the final charge,” Curly replied. “Lars intends on challenging Christine to battle, then slaying her. Once she falls, the rest of the kith and kin will ally themselves with their proper masters, the demons.” Curly sniffed with disapproval. She’d never hidden her dislike or distrust of the kith and kin, considering them, as well as the humans, as far beneath her.
Buddy wasn’t about to try to educate her on how it was better to use your allies and not just slaughter them when they didn’t live up to their end of the bargain. It was too good of a lever he could use to control her.
“How will he get her to accept?” Buddy asked. “Just challenging her won’t be enough.”
“He has a threat worked up,” Curly said. “Not her family, because that will piss her off too much, make her feel cornered and fight too hard. But one of the races of the kith and kin that she holds dear.”
Curly couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the sentiment. Another weakness of hers, that she held nothing dear, as it were. She felt that freed her from sentiment and didn’t allow others to control her.
It was yet another blind spot that Buddy used ruthlessly to his advantage.
“So he threatens this entire race, she goes there to defend them, and he just shows up to fight her?” Buddy asked. There had to be something else to the plan. That seemed far too straightforward for Lars.
Curly shrugged. “This is where it gets difficult, boss,” she admitted. “Lars actually has several contingency plans. If just threatening the race makes her show up, that’s what he’ll do. If he has to start the fight slowly, so that some can get away to tell her about their dilemma, he’ll do that. If he has to stop the battle and call her into individual combat, he’ll do that.” Curly shook her head. “Lars has a whole fucking contingency map worked out, with branches spreading across it like some goddamned hippy forest.” She shuddered.
“And you are ready for when Christine falls?” Buddy asked.
“Affirmative, boss,” Curly said. “After the celebrations, and those will run for days, if not weeks, I’ll show up at Lars’ place with my new voice in place.” She gave him an evil grin. “You think he’ll fall for this one, don’t you?” Her tone lowered and the way she flicked her black tongue around one of her lower fangs made Buddy shiver. She sounded like sex itself, slightly breathless and ready for round two. Or maybe three, but who was counting.
“Yup. That would do it,” Buddy said, his own erection making him slightly uncomfortable. “And he won’t suspect anything?”
Curly laughed, still in that deep-throated tone that sent shivers down Buddy’s spine. She must have been practicing with the succubae, or possibly she was part succubus, he wasn’t quite sure.
“He won’t see the knife coming,” Curly assured Buddy.
And really, that was all Buddy could ask for.
Chapter Twenty
Tina found her heart kept racing while she went through her morning routing, waiting for Christine to show up.
Finally, Tina was ready.
Her adoptive parents, Mr. and Mrs. Zimmerman (because really, those people weren’t her bio-parents, and while they’d helped her recover, they didn’t mean that much to her anymore) had both had the sense to leave her alone, after inquiring about her previous night’s sleep, as well as her preference for toast or English muffin.
Tina had felt her magic return to her slowly, day by day. There were still bad days when it felt as though her magic was blocked, when she felt her head full of cotton batting and unable to form a simple spell.
There were more good days than bad, though. Like that morning. When power sparked in her blood, making everything the sunshine touched seem to sparkle. When magic came as naturally to her as breathing. When it took no effort at all to tap the side of her mug of coffee and have the perfect amount of cream and honey magically added to it.
At least her adoptive parents didn’t say anything at the display. Tina had gotten tired of the screaming matches when they tried to warn her about not wearing herself out or for ostentatious shows of magic.
They didn’t get it. They didn’t understand how Tina needed to prove to herself just how easy magic was on a good day. She wouldn’t get tired. She had found new depths to draw on. Depths they had no idea about.
She felt sorry for her adoptive parents, in a way. They were both powerful magicians. They’d done their best to train her. However, they didn’
t have a clue what actual power was.
Somedays, Tina made the effort to be their bubbly little girl again. It was a safe place for her, a protected place. They seemed to appreciate it, breathing easier and not exchanging so many worried looks with one another.
This morning, Tina sparked with energy, ready to take on the world. And her adoptive parents knew enough to stay the hell out of her way.
Finally, Tina felt strong enough to take on Christine herself.
Not that Tina ever gave the slightest hint of that. No, she played the good girl to the hilt whenever Christine’s name was mentioned, even going so far as to pretend that she missed the stupid troll.
Tina had managed to fool them all into trusting her again.
A polite knock on the front door had Tina practically levitating out of her seat. “I’ll get it!” she called out so that Maria, the maid, couldn’t get to the front door first.
“Hi!” Tina said as she flung open the door. She threw all her girlish enthusiasm into that single word, as if she were truly her old self once more.
Christine stood on the other side of the door in her full human guise. She was good at that, now. It took a lot of effort for Tina to see the troll underneath.
However, she always knew the beast was there.
Today, Christine wore a long-sleeved white shirt, something tight that showed off her curves, so different from Tina’s skinny self. Tina had to admit that her short pixie cut looked cute, and that perhaps the perm had been a bad idea. Hell, Christine even had some makeup on, a brownish-red lipstick that highlighted her skin perfectly. She wore brown capris and stupid looking “barefoot” shoes that separated out her toes.
Tina was in blacks today. Black sleeveless vest/shirt that showed off her clear, white skin, a black jeans-skirt that made her outfit dressy, but not too much, along with rugged black sandals.
Christine paused at the edge of the threshold. “Hi,” she said, cautiously, looking carefully at Tina. “You ready to go today?”
Tina hrumphed at that. “Of course I am!” she said. Her tone wasn’t that whiny.
Though okay, maybe Christine had a point. Tina did have bad days still.
“Today’s a good day,” Tina assured Christine.
“Good,” Christine said, giving her a smile. “I really need your help.”
Tina would have killed to hear those words even as much as two weeks ago.
Now, well, she might kill anyway.
Christine had explained to Tina how they had to go find this thing that was supposed to be “Tina’s Head.” They were going to the plane of the Sammuthians. It was yet another branch of the kith and kin; however, they were more closely related to demons than most. They weren’t the cambions, who were technically half demon. But they weren’t that far away, either, in terms of the family tree.
Tina would just bet that was all Christine wanted, this other “item.”
Christine had already stolen Tina’s Destiny. Evidently, that wasn’t enough, and now Christine wanted Tina’s head as well.
She wouldn’t get it. Tina was prepared to fight.
Christine had warned Tina that the Sammuthains were unusual before they went through the portal.
That wasn’t the half of it, or so Tina realized as soon as they stepped into the bright, sunny world.
The sky was a pale gray, as though covered with high clouds. The sun looked like a bright white ball in the sky. Searingly bright green trees rose up just beyond the clearing they stood in, looking more like soft yew trees than prickly pines. The grass at their feet had turned golden in the bright sunlight, the ground baked a light brown color and smelling like the end of summer.
Streams of birds flew at them, coming from all sides.
No, those weren’t birds.
Those were eyes.
Horrible, bloodshot eyes. The biggest had to be the size of Tina’s palm, easy enough to slap away, while the smaller ones weren’t any bigger than her pinky finger, and probably as annoying as gnats.
The irises were just as bad, coming in unnatural colors, like red, orange, purple, and even sickly yellow-gold.
The eyes flew around Tina and Christine in a tight circle, holding them in place.
Tina found her palm itching to grab her wand.
“Hold,” Christine said softly.
She’d transformed into her troll self, though not fully, with more curves than a normal troll, taller than Tina, but not full troll height.
What, was that supposed to put Tina more at ease? No, Tina would rather see the full face of her enemy.
Still, Tina didn’t grab for her wand. She kept a defensive spell locked in her mind, though, the first spell to go up when these nasty creatures attacked.
“They won’t attack us unless we attack first,” Christine said quietly, reminding Tina. “We just have to wait until the king arrives.”
Tina couldn’t help but snort. King? King of the Eyeballs? Great. Another one of the kith and kin who’d gotten too big for themselves.
Humans had proper royalty. Monarchies that had gone back thousands of years. Not these dumbos.
“Okay,” Tina said after Christine threw her a look. “Just trying to imagine what the king of the Sammuthians looks like.”
“I know, right?” Christine said with a grin. “Does he have a little gold cape trailing behind him?”
Tina snorted again. For a moment, her hard mask faltered. She suddenly remembered how much fun she’d once had with Christine exploring the wild side of Seattle. Even the more quiet times, in their favorite coffee shop, talking about authors and books.
But that had been Before. Before Tina had realized the true cause of her current predicament. The real reason why her Destiny was muddled.
Off in the distance, a huge eyeball floated toward them. It appeared to have an entire retinue of smaller eyeballs rolling along behind it. Not quite a gold cape, but it definitely gave the impression of one.
The King had arrived. He had what Tina would have called a royal purple iris, and the white part wasn’t quite as bloodshot as the other eyeballs. He was probably an inch or so bigger all the way around than all of the other eyeballs. He’d overfill Tina’s palm with his mass, like a kid’s squishy football.
“Greetings, O Travelers!” the king called out to them, placing great emphasis on each word.
Tina wasn’t sure exactly how the eyeball spoke. It didn’t have tiny vocal chords hidden away behind the eye, did it? No, that looked perfectly smooth. But the voice sounded as though the words were spoken out loud, not carried to them with magic.
Christine seemed surprised to be addressed as such. “Do I have the pleasure of addressing the King of the Sammuthians?”
“King Sam Himself, At Your Service!” the eyeball replied.
Why were the words all coming out so strangely emphasized? Was that because of the spell that enabled him to talk?
“King Sam,” Christine said, bowing her head slightly. “I am Princess Kizalynn Linumok Te’Dur. This is my human sister, Tina Zimmerman.”
Of course, only Christine had such a fancy title. Just wait until Tina got her Destiny back. Then she’d be the one with the title, like “Savior of the World” or maybe “Protector of the Just.”
But Tina didn’t say anything negative out loud, and she hadn’t for weeks. Instead, she gave her best smile to the eyeball (ugh) and bowed her head.
“What Wonders Do You Seek?” King Sam asked.
“What wonders would your majesty have to show us?” Christine asked. She seemed surprised.
Tina was curious as well. What sort of “wonders” did these eyeballs have?
King Sam appeared to think for a moment. “There is the Grotto of Many Mirrors,” he said, “which has received five star reviews from most visitors.” His voice finally changed to something more conversational, instead of having to Announce and Enunciate every word. “Also, the Waterfalls of Hidden Views, which Travelers Today proclaimed a true marvel worthy of every visito
r. Plus the Head of Soul’s Hill, with magnificent vistas, always a crowd pleaser, and one of my personal favorites.” The king paused. If he’d had a throat, Tina would have sworn he cleared it. “Choose Your Adventure!” he announced, his voice booming.
A whispering hiss surrounded them. It took Tina a moment to realize it was all the other eyeballs urging them to go to one site or another.
It felt like a bad game show.
“We choose the Head of Soul’s Hill,” Christine said, as if there had been any doubt.
The crowd went wild, the eyeballs zooming up and down and around, all cheering madly.
King Sam waited until the ruckus had died down before he Announced, “Well Chosen. Sure to be The Adventure of a Lifetime!”
Really, why couldn’t this eyeball just speak plainly?
Tina could tell that Christine’s smile was just plastered on. She knew that Christine was having a hard time not rolling her own eyes at King Sam’s proclamations.
If only Tina and Christine weren’t mortal enemies. They’d probably be having fun at this point.
Tina forced herself to remember how bad the last few months had been, losing her magic. How powerless she’d felt.
While being friends with Christine was nice, it didn’t compare to regaining her power. Her Destiny.
It was just a matter of time before Tina would get her revenge and take everything back.
It appeared that King Sam would act as their guide to the Head of Soul’s Hill. He gave a running commentary on everything they passed, telling them about the extremely bright trees and how the berries were used to make a beautiful blue-colored liqueur (and that they should be sure to pick some up in the Grand Market that they’d stop in at the end of their tour). The cheery river they walked beside had its start in the Endless Peaks to the east, the tips covered in snow, a sight not to be missed.
Finally, Tina was able to get in a word edgewise. “Do you give this sort of tour to every guest?” she asked. Wouldn’t a king have other things to do and not just escort tourists around?