Moonshine

by Robin Trent

  "Of course. My apologies, Professor." Rhys bowed again.

  Briggs cleared his throat, and all eyes turned on him. He sheepishly smiled and made his announcement. "As you can see, Rhys is of outstanding physique, and I am sure he will be able to assist you in the moving of the artifacts. He's my man, and I wish for him to be present during the shipment to see that everything is in order."

  Nikolai's smile immediately turned into a frown. "Here now, are you saying you don't think that we are capable of handling this on our own?"

  It was Briggs' turn to feel uncomfortable. "No, no, don't take it that way, Nikolai. We think you are doing a wonderful job. But, well, there has been some grumbling by the locals."

  "Yes, the accusations that we are stealing their heritage." Nikolai was immediately incensed but understood the implications.

  "One of our men on board would appear to the locals as if we were being serious about not harming their cultural heritage. You can certainly understand that, old chap." Briggs was trying to remain calm, but his face was turning beet red.

  "Yes, of course I understand the implications, but this man, no offense, Rhys."

  Rhys smiled. "Oh, none taken."

  "But this man is a military officer in uniform. You don't think the locals won't notice that?"

  "Yes, of course, which is why Rhys is going to be in civilian clothing." Briggs seemed to think this point up on the spot and then, pleased with himself, he left.

  Nikolai looked over at Rhys with a scowl on his face. Henry stood behind him and nudged him with his elbow. "I don't think it is up for discussion, Nikki."

  "Obviously.” Nikolai practically growled.

  "I will try to stay out of your way as much as possible. I have no wish to step on your toes. I'll just be following orders." Rhys tried to keep the humor out of his voice and remain sincere.

  "Of course," Nikolai replied testily. He stood there and thought about it for a few seconds and finally accepted defeat. "Well, I suppose there's no use in fighting it." He extended his hand and Rhys grabbed it with a firm handshake. "Let's meet for lunch and we can go over a few things."

  "Well, that's more like it." Rhys grinned from ear to ear.

  Strakx was eating his lunch, which consisted of the intestines of whatever he had recently killed. He was a shapeshifter goblin known as a phouka. His standard shape was that of a black goat, although he could easily be a dog or a horse, or any one of a number of animals. But no matter what he shifted into, he still had the strange, wild eyes of a goat. Phoukas are prone to inter-species violence and can be vicious pranksters. Strakx was no different, and his ill-temper was beginning to get the best of him.

  The desert was no place for an English phouka. He longed for the rustle of dead leaves on the forest floor, the sound of the owl and the raven, the wind whispering through the trees, and the frosty delight of moonlight on evening dew. He found the heat unbearable, the constant sun cruel, and the open desert made him jumpy as there was no place to hide. He wanted to go home, and he needed to figure out how to get Rhys to go there.

  His current shape was that of a large black dog, and he sat in the sun panting, looking like any other canine waiting for its master. Here they were in bloody Egypt, a place Strakx wished he had never come to, and once they leave, he swore he would never return. His anger over being in this hell hole made him spiteful. Strakx was here out of loyalty to Rhys, but that didn't mean he had to like it.

  He spent as much time as possible tormenting the locals. They were beginning to whisper about demons and angered spirits. Well, they got that right. But it wasn't enough to trip them up or confuse them. In recent days Strakx had taken to causing the humans harm, making them bleed. He was beginning to wish the whole lot of them would up and die. Then they could be left permanently in peace and no more trips to the damn desert.

  Strakx spotted Rhys approaching from the direction of the museum. It was about time. He didn't want to sit here all day waiting, but he knew he needed to get orders from his boss before he could scurry off to an underground cavern and wait it out until nightfall. And that twit Hoznac was right behind him, trailing along sniveling and groveling.

  Where Strakx was a phouka, Hoznac was a goblin, and while Strakx had no problem shifting into a full-sized man, Hoznac looked more like a child or a dwarf. Right now, with the mood Strakx was in, he could drop-kick Hoznac all the way from here to Cairo and not feel one bit of regret. However, he knew it was best to play nice, at least with the other fae folk. Screw the humans, as he could care less about them.

  "Strakx, follow me. Come on, boy, come on." Rhys slapped his leg to indicate Strakx needed to follow him. He was lucky Strakx didn't take a bite out of his ass while he was following behind. They entered a shop where Rhys was friendly with the owner, and they went straight back to a room hidden from view.

  Strakx immediately shifted into a goat, even though the bottom half was more naked. "Hilarious, Rhys. You're hilarious. Ahhhhhh. It feels so good to be out of the sun and into my natural form." Strakx stretched, reveling in the coolness of the room and the protection it offered.

  "Yeah, well, don't get too comfortable," Rhys warned. "We still have quite a bit of work to do. I have managed to influence the minister into having me work alongside Nikolai and that other colleague of his. What was his name? Horus? Anyway, I will be in the museum with them."

  "And when you get to know Nikolai, then what? Will we be able to go home finally?"

  "Once we erase everyone's memory that we were here, yes." Rhys grinned.

  "Great. That will take a while," Strakx grumbled.

  Hoznac began jumping up and down, so excited he looked like a terrier with an attention problem. "I know, I know. Ooooo, ooooo."

  "What, Hoznac?" Rhys and Strakx chimed in at the same time.

  "A potion. Let's make a forgetfulness potion. I know it's like cheating, and it will probably wipe out more than just their memory of us, but it will be fast, and then we can get out of here. We can pour it in their drinking water." Hoznac started to giggle.

  Rhys looked thoughtful for a moment. "You know, that isn't a bad idea." We are, after all, dealing with a whole platoon of soldiers. You two think you could whip that up in the next couple of days?"

  Strakx shook his head. "This will be more than a couple of days. We are talking at least a week since we have to gather all the ingredients and then brew the potion. You have to be careful with these things if you want them to work. And we have to be sure we are doing this in secret."

  "A week isn't bad. It gives me plenty of time to get information from Nikolai, and I can figure out his weakness, get to know what will hurt him the most."

  "Fine." Strakx snorted. "Then you have to help me take turns watching over the potion while it brews. I'm not going to be stuck all day, every day, sitting by a fire." He poked at Hoznac.

  "No problem." Hoznac giggled with delight.

  "So, Nikki, what are you planning on doing after we are finished here? I know you are doing a service to queen and country, but I also know your true passions lie elsewhere." Henry neatly folded his napkin on his lap as he opened the conversation with his compatriot.

  "Why, Henry, you don't think this is my passion? Cataloging and crating artifacts for days on end?" Nikolai chuckled. "I was thinking about going to Bucharest. I thought the change of scenery might be nice."

  "Bucharest? What could possibly be fascinating there?" Henry looked baffled. What on earth could be interesting in Bucharest?

  "There are several old church sites I have wanted to look into."

  "Well, far be it for me to criticize, but I don't see the point. Unless you are after vampires or some such nonsense?"

  "No, no, it’s nothing that fantastical. I am interested in real archaeological research there." Nikolai sat back in his chair with a far away look in his eyes, only to have his thoughts interrupted as Rhys Bryhana came into view. He raised his arm and signaled Rhys to join him and Henry.

  "So, you t
wo look deep in thought," Rhys said as he came over and took a seat.

  "Nikolai and I were just discussing what real archeology looks like." Henry smiled and then winked at Rhys.

  "Oh, I see. And what is that exactly?" Rhys returned Henry's smile.

  Nikolai snorted and locked eyes with Rhys. "Henry was insinuating that my desire to go to Bucharest was tied in with some absurd fascination with vampires. I am talking about real archaeology here. Not mythical stories."

  "Except that mythical stories provide context, and there is always some grain of truth contained within a myth." Rhys grinned lopsidedly.

  "Oh, not you too!" Nikolai was now completely exasperated.

  "I'm serious. You'd be surprised at how much truth is contained in myth. Take your vampires, for instance. Some people crave blood. I'm not saying they are some fantastical beings with all the mystical abilities, but they do exist. History bears that out. Look at Madame Bathory. She used to bathe in her servant girl's blood." Rhys took on a very stoic demeanor to match what he thought was the seriousness of thought to be considered.

  Nikolai just stared at him. "Are you joking?"

  "No. You can disagree with me, and I don't mind. But you might want to give it some thought. Take for instance, the belief in faeries in Ireland." At the mention of this, Rhys's face darkened considerably, and yet Nikolai missed it.

  “Faeries?” Nikolai was feeling the heat starting to rise up his collar.

  "The locals believe in them. Some say they have had actual experiences with them. To you they are myth and folklore as you put it. To those that live there, they are not so easily dismissed. The point that I am trying to make here is that you go to sacred sights and you dig and destroy, and you don’t know the cultural or historical significance of what you are disturbing. But, if you understood the local folklore, you might gain a better understanding of what you can and cannot disturb. You should take more care with other cultures and civilizations, Mr. Merkova. But then you are English, are you not, and that comes with a certain sense of entitlement, doesn’t it?" Rhys added a little too much sarcasm with that last point.

  "Man, you need to hold your tongue. I will not have my life's work questioned by some military man who wants to play make-believe instead of being scientific. And aren’t you English as well? I don’t suppose you have that so-called sense of entitlement?" Nikolai's nostrils flared, betraying his anger.

  "Yes, well," Henry did his best attempt at diplomacy to lighten the situation, "We all have our differences, but we are professional men, regardless of our respective positions."

  Rhys had so much more to say, and he realized he was going to have to work harder at controlling his temper if he was going to pull this off. He gripped his napkin and then let it fall to his clean, white plate. "Gentlemen, I think it would be best if we go over this some other time when cooler heads will prevail. I bid you a good day." And with that, he rose from the table and stormed out of the restaurant.

  "Well, that went well." Henry's voice dripped with sarcasm.

  Nikolai had no voice, only anger, and yet he wasn't exactly sure why.

  A soft breeze carrying the smells of the lake ruffled Titwell's hair. He stood on the shore directly in front of the queen and bowed low before her.

  "Rise, Titwell. Why have you sought me out here? This is a private place for me, and I don't appreciate the intrusion." The queen looked slightly miffed.

  "Your Majesty, I have news of some importance, and I didn't think it should wait. We are alone here, yes? No one can overhear us?" Titwell looked around nervously.

  "Yes, we are alone. I can not sense any being here but us. Why all the secrecy that you could not wait to tell me at court?"

  "The human woman, the mother of the children, she is being tormented by nightmares." Titwell stopped talking as the queen held up her hand.

  "We do not interfere in the affairs of humans. It is unfortunate that those nasty creatures are visiting her, but it is not of our concern."

  "Yes, I understand that, Your Majesty, but I took it upon myself to extricate one from the house. Once outside, I received information from it that I thought you might find important. And so I am here." Titwell looked up at the queen's face. Bathed in moonlight, her skin looked like porcelain, and she had a frosty beauty that made her appear untouchable.

  "Go on, Titwell." The queen continued to look out over the lake as she listened.

  "The nightmare said there is more going on around me than I realize. There are those who want the Emissary dead. Those who never want another one born, ever again. And they are more powerful than I. Which I take to mean that they do not feel that I can protect Mistress Elizabeth."

  "I am well aware of the opposition, Titwell. This is not news."

  Titwell's face fell in disappointment. "I see. If you do nothing to help the woman, then could you at least release me from my geas and let me try to help her?"

  "You will not prevent her death, no matter what you do." The queen's expression had turned sorrowful. "There will be many deaths before the end, my little hob."

  Titwell removed his hat and held it in his hands. He began twisting it, feeling more nervous than usual.

  "But the geas remains. You cannot speak of it to anyone, and that includes the human woman. There is too much at stake, Titwell. From me, you will receive no help."

  "Not even a royal decree that no one is to touch Elizabeth?" Titwell had hoped the queen could at least do this small favor.

  "Titwell, if I decree the human woman is not to be touched, then the rest of the court will want to know why. It will rouse suspicions. Suspicions I cannot afford. If there is nothing else you have to tell me, I wish to be alone now." And with that, the audience was over as the queen turned her back to Titwell.

  Titwell bobbed his head and took three steps backward before turning around to leave. Smashing his hat back on his head, he could feel his anger starting to rise -- petty court politics. The prophecy was not a secret anymore than the fact that the queen had a human in her court under her protection. But because of stupid rules, Elizabeth would continue to be tormented and possibly die. There had to be a way around this, and Titwell was going to figure it out no matter what.

  12

  Storming out was probably not the best idea, but Rhys could not keep himself from wanting to punch that arrogant bastard in the face. Nikolai Merkova did not care about what he destroyed in his search for "The Truth." Oh, if he only knew what the truth was, he would probably shite himself. If he ever set foot in Ireland, Rhys would be there to greet him himself, and he would not enjoy the welcome.

  Rhys paced his tent. His camouflage as a military man would be coming to an end soon. Maybe he wouldn't give Nikolai the forgetfulness potion. Let him chase all over Egypt looking for someone no one else could remember. "Ha!" Rhys couldn't help himself as the sound slipped out from his lips. At least he didn't have to wear this damn military uniform anymore. It still wouldn't be what he was used to wearing, but regular human civilian clothes would be a site more comfortable.

  Rhys stopped pacing as he plopped down onto his cot. He bowed his head to cradle it in both hands. Why oh why did she have to die? His wife, his beautiful, graceful Brianna with the long brown hair that had burnished highlights of copper which glinted in the sun. He could still hear her soft laughter and see the twinkle in her eyes. She had found most things Rhys did amusing, even his outbursts of temper. She made him feel acceptable, healthy, loved. He didn't need anything else.

  Rhys had a reasonably rough upbringing. His father was considered a traitor by the court and had been thrown in the tower for conspiring against the queen. There he languished until he died. No one wanted anything to do with Rhys, and he was rejected and treated as an outcast. The shame of his father was a stain Rhys carried over his heart until he met Brianna. She was different, and she was human. She didn't shy away from him; she didn't recoil from his touch. He found solace within her arms, and he married her.

  Durin
g the Great Uprising, Brianna and Rhys fought side by side for the queen. Brianna was as fierce in battle as she was gentle in bed. Rhys loved her for it. They fought back to back, swords glinting, amour shining, like twin beacons for all that was right. That is until she became pregnant.

  As a human, Brianna wasn't allowed to live with the fae, even though she bore a half-fae child in her womb. Rhys saw this for the injustice that it was, for Brianna was no ordinary human and was a friend to the court. But rules were rules. So, she stayed with her tribe. When the baby came, Rhys wanted nothing more than to be with his wife and child. The child was by far the most beautiful baby boy a human could bear.

  But the queen had other plans. She needed Rhys to go on another mission for her. More court intrigue. While he was away, Brianna's tribe developed a suspicion that she was involved with an otherworldly creature. In the end, they killed her and the baby. That was when Rhys first started the whispering campaign. Remaining invisible, he would whisper foul things in their ears, putting horrible thoughts in their heads and turning the members of the tribe against each other, until the tribe wiped itself out. For Rhys, it was a fitting punishment since it was rumor and innuendo that ended his wife's life.

  He took sadistic pleasure in torturing those who killed his beloved. He didn't kill them, per se, so technically, he didn't violate the queen's orders. However, none of the fae had ever considered using their gift to harm another until Rhys committed this abominable act. He saw the look return to other fae's eyes, the look they had once given him as an outcast. They wanted him gone, and so he left. Then they had the guts to call him a deserter. He was ridiculed as a betrayer to the queen, and not one thought was given to what he had sacrificed so she could win her damn Uprising.

  And so he turned away from the Seelie Court and became a member of the Unseelie. It was unusual, but not unheard of for one member of the court to cross over to the other side. Rhys had done so, and now he was an enemy to Queen Oonagh and an enemy to the humans. After the loss of Brianna, Rhys' heart closed. As a member of the Unseelie Court, it was his duty to manipulate the humans, to use his whispering campaign against them, even though he found it not really worth the challenge. He knew that if Brianna were alive, she would not approve. But she wasn't here, and that was the problem.