by Vance, Ramy
“Ankou?” Deirdre said. As the shock of who this black-suited Other was subsided and she got ahold of herself, Deirdre dropped to her knees, signing three intersecting diamonds on her forehead—the fae symbol for worship.
Whereas Deirdre’s murmuring of the name ‘Ankou’ was filled with awe and respect, my tone was half-confused, half-will someone clue me in? “Ankou? Who is that?”
“Our grim reaper,” Remi said, sighing. “He only shows up when a great death is about to happened. Except for that one moment when he showed up, and Sonia rose from the dead. It was so unheard of that we all swore never to speak of this until—well, now.” Remi walked over to the fae reaper. “If only you would grace us with a few words so that we may know why you are here.”
Ankou didn’t answer, his face impassive and unmoving, revealing nothing. This guy should play poker, I thought. As in Texas hold ’em, high stakes, everything-on-the-line kind of poker.
Remi chuckled. “Can you at least tell me if you are here for me?”
Nothing. With that, Remi sighed. “He’s here for one of us, maybe all of us. That’s what we thought, but now that King Aelfric is here, I’m wondering if he’s returned to play his back-from-the-dead trick again.”
“Yeah,” I said, as the gravity of the situation came crushing down on me. A literal let me show you to your death reaper was in the room with us—had been in the room with us—and now a dead king was back and we were snowed in, unable to escape. This situation had the endings of Hamlet, Romeo and Juliet and Othello wrapped in one written all over it.
I took a deep breath. “So if he’s not Freol, but rather Ankou the friggin’ Reaper … who the hell are the rest of you?”
“Allow me to properly introduce myself. I am the dreaded Redcap,” Orange said, throwing away the wig in his hand. He seemed happy to be rid of it; he rubbed his hands over his bald head.
“I would say it’s a pleasure, but I’ve heard all about you,” I said.
“Mostly exaggerations,” he said. “Mostly.”
“And Krelis here.”
“My husband.”
“As you are mine,” Krelis said, facing Redcap. “Then, now and here.”
“ ‘Then, now, here,’ ” I repeated. “Let me guess, when Redcap was accused of letting King Orfeo in, you were both driven from your home.”
“Yes,” Redcap said. “I had a choice: stay and die, or flee and live.”
“And you, Krelis? What choice were you given?”
“I fear I am not much for anything other than drinking and—”
“And singing and dancing and making all things right in the world. At least in my world.”
If I didn’t know this before, I knew it then: trows can blush and goblins can be romantic. I swooned in jealousy over the obvious love they had for one another.
Krelis cleared his throat. “I stayed behind, telling everyone who came to our home looking for him that the dreaded Redcap had killed himself in shame.”
“And I went into hiding for a thousand years, only now daring to show myself,” Redcap said.
I got it. The gods may have been gone, and the amnesty program may have been in place, but it didn’t change that many members of the UnSeelie Court wanted revenge for the death of their king. Amnesty was about forgiving the sins of the past, not forgetting them. Besides it was a government program—a human government program—and most Others didn’t really go for the whole mortal law thing. “And you, Jack-in-Chains. You wear your Gleipnir chain as penance for failing to save Heurodis.”
Remi walked over to Jack-in-Chains and made a gesture that left the giant smiling. “My brother here, he did everything in his power to protect Heurodis, but King Orfeo possessed a great magic that would have overpowered Oberon himself. Her death was not his fault … not that he would ever admit as much.”
Remi hopped onto the table and, now only slightly taller than his giant brother, gave Jack a solemn, healing kiss on the forehead.
“And despite losing his wife, King Aelfric did not attack the human world. Not then, at least.”
“He knew a war between fae and humans would not end well,” the ly erg said.
“And who are you?” I asked Remi.
The soldier snapped his feet together and gave me a human salute. “I am Remi LaChance now, but I was Rem-ii Ly Erg, captain of King Aelfric’s guard.”
“And the abatwas—Snap, Crackle and Pop?”
“You saw them in the fireflies’ dance. For all practical purposes, they were Sonia’s mother, father and fun uncle rolled into one. The night of the attack—the night she died—was their worst nightmare come true. And even despite Sonia’s resurrection, they have a score to settle.”
Remi’s words were accented with several high-pitched squeals as the abatwas raised their fists in exaggerated anger.
I guess when you’re that small, you need to exaggerate everything just to be heard.
“And this big guy,” I said, pointing at Tiny the barguest. “I mean, it’s strange that Sonia would make a pet of the very creature that killed her.”
“Tiny here,” Remi said, petting the demonic dog, “was a gift from me so that Sonia could—what is the human expression for this?—get back on the horse again?”
“With a murderous dog?”
At this, Tiny growled.
“Sorry, but you saw the fireflies’ dance.”
Tiny groaned in resignation.
“First of all,” Remi said, “barguests are unfailingly loyal to their master, even if their master is one as vile as Archimago. This barguest—this animal dubbed ‘Tiny’—belongs to Sonia, and could no more hurt her than any of us in this room. She needed to understand that if she was to get past the great evil that was visited upon her.”
“And that’s why Oighrig End had so many uneven, inconsistent wounds. He wasn’t killed by one or two people … he was killed by all of you.”
“Aye,” said a voice behind me.
Everyone in the room except Ankou bent the knee. I guess when you’re the reaper, your bony butt bends for no one. Their heads dropped low as Sonia walked into the room, still holding King Aelfric’s hands.
Not being fae, I didn’t know where I stood on the Respect the King edict, so I just stood there trying not to draw any attention to myself.
“Aye,” she repeated, “we all played our roles and took part in ending that murderous bastard. We did so because we wished to share the pleasure of revenge and the guilt of murder. And behold what it has given us: our king, my father.”
Sonia held the dark elf’s hand tighter as he guided her into the center of the room. There, he let go of her hand and said, “It is so good to see you all again. Especially you, my friend.” He walked over to Jack-in-Chains. The giant lowered his head farther as his king drew closer.
The dark elf placed a gentle hand beneath the giant’s chin and gently lifted his head. “Come,” King Aelfric said, “let me look at you.”
Jack’s eyes welled with joy for the returned king, and shame for his failure of all those centuries ago.
King Aelfric set his hands on Jack’s neck and unclasped the Gleipnir chain. “You’ve worn this long enough, my friend,” the dark elf said, letting go of the chain and locket. The punishing necklace hit the kitchen’s linoleum floor with a thud so heavy I was sure he’d just wiped out their entire damage deposit.
Then the Elf King scanned the whole room. “Rise, all of you. Rise.”
Ly erg, trow, giant, goblin and abatwas three all rose to their feet and stood before a king who had died centuries ago.
I’m Not Good at Being Good
“That was nice,” I said, immediately regretting the words as they left my lips. The truth was, it was nice. More than nice, it was beautiful, and my callous comment would probably be considered sarcastic and rude.
But then I remembered I was in a room full of fae. They’re a literal bunch, so they all nodded in agreement. All but Sonia, whose human half seemed to register my comment
as not quite rude enough to comment on.
“So,” I said, silently phewing with relief, “what now?”
“Now we wait for the storm to pass so we can leave,” Remi said.
I shook my head. “Not going to happen.”
King Aelfric looked in my direction, acknowledging me for the first time since entering the room. “First,” he said, “I must apologize for my attack. Returning from the dead is … confusing.”
Tell me about it, I thought (in my head).
“And I agree with you: it will not be easy to leave this place. But I suspect our reasons are very different.” He gestured for me to speak my mind with a regal wave of his hand.
“Fine,” I said. “Because they”—I waved my hands at the motley crew of UnSeelie fae—“killed someone.”
“A murderer, a vile human being who—” Sonia started.
“Exactly,” I interrupted, “a human being. But even if he wasn’t—even if he was the Devil himself—the rules are different now. You can’t just kill someone, as deserving as they may be, and go on with your life.”
The irony of my words weren’t lost on me. I had killed and gotten away with it, and not just as a vampire. Since I had become human, two humans had died because of me. Granted, one of them was an asshole who was trying to mass-sacrifice students in a vain attempt to get the gods back, and the other one was a maniac who drowned himself in a puddle before I could save him, but they died because of me.
I rubbed my temples as if doing so could turn my hypocrisy switch off. “They’re going to catch you.”
“We have planned for that,” Remi said. “This snow has done much to confuse our efforts. Still, it will have to end, and when it does we will dispose of the body where no one will ever find it.”
He slapped his hands together three times as if punctuating his words with a That’s that.
“And what about me?”
“Even after all you’ve seen—the injustices we’ve righted, the evil we have removed from this world—you would still turn us over to the authorities?” Redcap said.
“What injustices are you talking about? What happened in the Seelie and UnSeelie Courts was then. Now, in the GoneGod World, all you’ve done is kill a human professor,” I said, considering the last piece of the puzzle. “I don’t care if, once upon a time, he was a human sorcerer. I don’t care that he’s Archimago in the flesh. You killed him.”
There was a stunned silence at the name Archimago. “Very good, young lady. I see a bright career for you in law enforcement,” Remi said, “Tell me, how did you discover Oighrig End’s true identity?”
“It was mostly the questions you asked Professor End during the lecture, but also his name. ‘Archimago’ is Latin for ‘the first and the last,’ and Oighrig is Scottish Gaelic for ‘new one,’ so Oighrig End translates into New One, End … beginning and end. First and last.”
“So if you know who he is and what he’s done, why would you tell the authorities?” Remi asked.
“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “I just know I’m trying to play by human rules now, and what you did was wrong.”
“And what would you have us do? Let Oighrig End continue earning accolades and money, honor and respect? After all he’s done?”
“You could have turned him in yourself—”
“You talk about the new rules of the GoneGod World like you don’t live here,” Sonia said. “Do you honestly believe human justice cares about ancient crimes committed against fae? Humans barely acknowledge us except when pushing us to the fringes of their world, or when punishing us.”
“You’re right,” I said. “Others are second-class citizens, and it would be unlikely for the police to have done anything against Oighrig End. Especially given the amnesty program , but that’s the whole point of the program: to forgive, to move on. If every Other with a legitimate gripe against another Other or human acted out, this world would never find the peace it deserves.”
“And what good would punishing us accomplish?” Krelis asked, pulling Redcap close. I could only guess he was living his personal nightmare of losing him again.
“I don’t know,” I said, wishing to the damn GoneGods I wasn’t the one playing ethical moderator. I’m the last person who should play judge, but I was playing the role because no one else there would. “Because your punishment would send a message that revenge is not OK. Not anymore. Because jailing you would reverberate throughout the Other communities, and if seeing you in chains stops one or two Others from taking justice into their own hands, then that might be worth it.”
“He deserved to die,” Redcap said.
“Maybe. But how many UnSeelie Court members think the ranks of the Seelie Court deserve death, too? And that’s both ways … fae memory is long. How many Seelie Court elves or pixies would happily end the vile lives of goblins, trows and dark elves because of something that happened centuries ago?”
Sonia growled, and for a moment I thought she was going to order my execution. After all, if I died, so did this little moral dilemma. Yay me for standing up for what I believe in in a room of murderers. I’d probably get the Heavenly version of the Girl Scout badge for Death by Righteousness. That was, if Heaven still existed.
But Sonia didn’t order my death. Instead she shook her head in frustration and reached for her father’s hand. “Do as you must. His death is a crime we would all commit again and again, but know this: you may very well never get a chance to hand us over to the authorities.”
I guess ordering my death is back on the table, I thought, and from the way Deirdre came to my side, I guessed it was out loud.
Sonia gave me a disgusted look, as if I had suggested something vile. “No, we would never order the death of an innocent. No matter what stupidity she proposes,” she spat out.
Go stupidity, I thought (this time in my head).
King Aelfric nodded in agreement. “You are safe amongst us. Perhaps you are not a friend, but you are also not an enemy. It is this storm that is our true enemy. I have looked into its heart and know that it is impenetrable. I believe it to be the work of magic, but it does not spring forth from the well of fae magic. Nor is it something Archimago, as powerful as he once was, could create. I fear other forces are at play here, magics beyond what we are capable of.”
“No, no, no!” Sonia said in frustration. “Your return is my wildest dream come true. But it is also my nightmare, for we are not safe here. My father is not safe here, and if I were to lose him again—”
“It would literally be the worst thing that could happen to you.”
She nodded.
“To any of you,” I added.
More nods.
I turned to the fae reaper. “Ankou, did you bring him back from the dead?”
The reaper said nothing, and only stared ahead impassively.
“I already told you, young lady: Ankou brought back our king. He must have. Just as he did Sonia all those years ago.”
“Exactly. Just like you said: ‘all those years ago,’ ” I said, keeping my gaze on Ankou. I was looking for a gesture, a facial tic, anything to see if I was right. “Before the gods left he had unlimited power. But he’s mortal now, just like you and me.” I turned to King Aelfric. “Centuries might have passed since you two last met, but because of your resurrection, it must feel like you saw him only hours ago.”
“You speak the truth,” King Aelfric said.
“Tell me, do you see any signs of aging on him? Wrinkles, blemishes, a mole, liver spot … anything?”
“I don’t know what you—” King Aelfric started.
“Please, indulge me. Do you see any signs of aging on him at all?”
The dark elf pushed aside his confusion to answer my question. Drawing in close, he examined Ankou closely. The reaper didn’t move as Aelfric scoured his face for any signs of aging. After several seconds, the Elf King shook his head. “No. He is as he was that night at the moor.”
“Shit,” I said. “I kno
w what’s happening.” And as if the evil that imprisoned us heard my words (she probably did), an explosion thundered through the kitchen with such incredible force that it literally shook the very ground on which we stood.
End of Part 3
Part IV
Intermission
Nightmares cannot touch those with nothing to lose. Of course there is always pain, but pain is so boring. There is only so much pleasure one can gain from incessant screaming and wailing.
It is from true suffering my pleasure sprouts. True suffering induced by pure nightmares.
Wealth lost, power diminished, good health gone to seed. A lover sick, a soulmate dying, a child missing, attachments severed. This is the realm of true nightmares.
But these fae are so detached. Their home gone, their spirits broken. They barely hold on to each other. Not one of them has something they hold truly precious. What’s more, each would gladly forfeit their lives for something as trivial as revenge.
How can I torment those with nothing to lose? What can I take from those with nothing?
The answer is simple: give them something precious to feel the sting of its loss. Return something they love, only to take it away again.
To lose a precious thing once is pain. But to lose it twice … that is death. And death is something I love.
I have searched their hearts, felt their very essences. They all lost their king, their friend, a man whom they all truly loved, and when they lost him, they also lost themselves.
Let me make them complete. Let me fill them with his presence. Let me make them whole again …
And once they are whole again, well, then I will break them.
Kings, Day-Dreams and Nightmares All Rolled into One
Thunder echoed through the room, metal pots and pans rattling in its wake.