Druid Bond

by Brad Magnarella

  “Are you still in contact with this friend?” Jordan asked.

  “I’ve seen her a few times since I was shown the door from Faerie, the last time about two years ago. I should be able to reach her.”

  “Excellent,” Jordan said, giving me a look that said, see?

  I shook my head. “All right, hold on a minute. I don’t care how bosomy Seay and her friend are, the fae don’t just help people. It’s not in their nature. They’ll want something in exchange, which I can guarantee you will be far more layered than it first appears, and to all of our detriments.”

  “Hey, you’re talking about half my DNA,” Seay said.

  “Sorry, but it’s true.”

  “And you know this how?” Jordan asked.

  “Common knowledge in my line of work. Plus, I’ve experienced it firsthand.”

  “So you’re making generalizations,” he concluded.

  “No, I’m making sense.”

  “Well, it couldn’t hurt for Seay to ask her,” Gorgantha said, her entire face glistening with salt water now. “Could it?”

  “Yes, because the manipulation begins the instant the fae see that you want something,” I said. “Before you know it, you’re caught in their web. And even then, you don’t really know it.” When Seay crossed her arms, I said, “C’mon, I’m not lumping you in with the rest of faedom, but I’m also not saying anything you don’t already know. You spent time in their court. You’ve seen the way they operate.”

  Seay lowered her gaze, teeth tugging on her bottom lip. “Brigid is … different.”

  Great. She had a crush on her friend, which meant I was wasting my breath trying to convince her of anything. I looked around at the others. “Helping is not in their nature,” I repeated, in case they missed it the first time.

  “Do you have an alternative?” Malachi asked.

  “I do, but it’s going to mean some intermediate steps.” I scooted forward on my reading chair to make my pitch. “Last night, a senior member of my Order visited me. She said they were trapped in the rift where they’ve been for the past month, repairing the same tear that the demons entered through. When I asked how I could help, she said to find Arnaud. Wait, just hear me out,” I said when Jordan began to grumble. “I already have a lead on Arnaud. If you let me pursue him, capture him, we’ll get the senior members of the Order back. They’ll hunt down the remaining Strangers and head off this demon apocalypse that Malachi is seeing. They’re far better equipped to handle this than the five of us.”

  Malachi nodded in my peripheral vision, but Jordan only eyed me critically.

  “How does capturing Arnaud lead to freeing your Order?” he asked.

  It was the one question I’d hoped no one would put forward, because I had absolutely no idea.

  “We’ll find out when we have him,” I said.

  “So you don’t know, in other words.”

  “I trust my Order.”

  “And Seay trusts her friend.”

  “Who happens to be fae,” I said.

  Though Jordan held my gaze, he spoke to the room now. “If I didn’t know better, it sounds like Everson is looking for a way to pursue his own agenda under the guise of helping the rest of us.”

  “Well, that’s bullshit,” I said.

  “Seay’s plan, on the other hand,” he continued, “gives us the most direct path to our target.”

  “Look, everyone,” I said, trying to keep my voice even. I hadn’t been this worked up in a long time. “Jordan’s insinuations aside, there’s no way Seay’s plan is going to work. Not without ending up in a fae bargain that will take years to extricate ourselves from, and that’s best case. My way means powerful aid and no bargain.” By the time my gaze returned to Jordan’s, I was breathing hard through my nose.

  “Well, ah, why don’t we put it to a vote?” Malachi offered.

  Seay wasted no time piping up from her seat in the center of the couch. “I vote for my plan.” She turned to Malachi.

  “I’m going with Everson’s,” he said.

  I was next on the rotation. “I’ll second that. I think I’ve made my case.”

  “And I know Seay’s made hers,” Jordan said from the couch opposite me.

  “All right, that’s two for Seay’s plan and two for Everson’s,” Malachi said.

  We all turned to Gorgantha, who was sitting at the other end of the couch, applying salt water to her neck now. She lowered the hand, her orb-like eyes rotating from me to Seay and Jordan. At last, she sighed.

  “Sorry, Everson, but I’ve known these players longer. I vote fae.”

  “Then that’s that,” Jordan said, clapping his hands once and lifting his quarterstaff from beside the loveseat.

  Seay stood and straightened her coat. “I’ll go find my manipulative friend now.”

  I returned her cutting look with a tight smile, but I could feel my cheeks reddening from the frustration of having been outvoted for an inferior plan. I needed some alone time to stew in my defeat and consider my next move.

  “Tell us as soon as you know something,” Jordan called to Seay, who was already heading for the door. “The rest of us should be ready to go on a moment’s notice.”

  “I’m going to run back to the church and finish up a few things,” Malachi said, casting me an apologetic look. Gorgantha said something about checking on her pod and followed him toward the door. The mermaid gave me a quick wave, but kept her eyes averted. She hadn’t wanted to be the deciding vote, and I didn’t hold it against her. Jordan watched them leave before facing me.

  “I hope you don’t take what happened here personally.”

  “You mean other than your attacks on my character?”

  “There just isn’t time to do it your way.”

  Beneath the insistence, I heard his pain. Every day his wife remained in the Stranger’s clutches was another day her soul could be used up, another day he could lose her forever—if it hadn’t already happened. The not knowing had to be killing him.

  “Then let me pursue my plan as a backup in case Seay’s doesn’t fly.”

  “I’d rather you saved your power for the mission.”

  “I can do both.”

  “Look,” he sighed. “I held off on doing this before because we didn’t want the Upholders to feel like a tyranny, but I bonded the vote to our sigil.”

  “Meaning?”

  “You won’t be able to pursue Arnaud until we decide otherwise.”

  “So you’re controlling me through the bond?” I asked, incredulous.

  “I didn’t want to, but…” He shrugged as though to say I’d left him no choice.

  My voice turned so thick with resentment that it quavered. “Not cool, man. Not cool at all.”

  He turned toward the door. “I’ll signal you as soon as we know something. Be rested and ready. We’re going to need you.”

  I tried to access my golems, but the druidic power of the bonding barred it. Ditto when I attempted to attune my mind to the demon trap. The harder I pushed, the harder the bonding spell pushed back. Which meant I wouldn’t be able to cast on the handkerchief with the blood particles either.

  Oh, hell no.

  But when I opened my eyes again, Jordan had already left. Behind me, I heard Tabitha squeezing and swearing her way back inside. “Are they finally gone?” she asked. “Most importantly, is he gone?”

  “Yeah,” I said, reaching for my coat and cane.

  “Wait, where are you going? What about lunch?”

  “There’s something I’ve gotta do. I’ll bring back take-out.”

  “Could you make it grilled tuna? It’s all I’ve been thinking about since that fish woman got here.” Tabitha sniffed around Gorgantha’s spot on the couch, then began lapping up the remaining water in her glass.

  “Sure…” I said.

  As I looked around the scatter of plates and half-eaten crackers, my anger came crashing back. If the vote was for the fae, fine, but I still didn’t have to trust Seay
’s contact. Fortunately, I had a contact of my own I trusted.

  Sort of.

  16

  The sun was straight overhead, casting the streets south of Midtown in a bright wintry light when the cabbie dropped me in front of Gretchen’s townhouse. I hadn’t heard from Gretchen in weeks, and she wasn’t answering her phone, but I’d surprised her at home before. One time she’d opened the door after a month’s absence and acted like she’d never been away. Called me a weirdo for asking where she’d been.

  Cinching my coat, I jogged up the stone steps and slammed the brass knocker several times. Then I waited anxiously. Gretchen wasn’t fae herself, but she was a powerful caster who had spent so much time in Faerie, she’d retrofitted her entire magical repertoire to resemble theirs. Despite her many, many eccentricities, I much preferred the thought of Gretchen delivering us into the time catch than an actual fae. And she had aided me before, in her own strange way.

  “Go away,” a voice barked from the other side of the door.

  “Gretchen?” I called. “Is that you? It’s Ever—”

  “For the last flaming time, she’s not here!”

  The multidimensional bands of protection that wrapped Gretchen’s home were distorting the voice, but I recognized it, in part from the fact it was issuing from only four feet above the ground.

  “Bree-yark?”

  A pause. “Everson?”

  A series of bolts clunked back and the door opened to reveal my stocky goblin friend. He was wearing a thermal top beneath denim overalls, sleeves rolled past his elbows to reveal the faded tattoos on his forearms.

  “Holy thunder,” he said, grinning up at me with his frightening set of sharp teeth. “Am I glad to see you.”

  “Hey, you too … But what are you doing here?”

  Bree-yark scratched his scarred brow with a pinky talon and averted his squash-colored eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I know. All that tough talk about cutting my strings with Gretchen, and here I am, playing house-sitter still. The thing is, she hasn’t come back, and she’s got some real temperamental houseplants back there.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “They’ll curse you up and down, but they’ll also shrivel to stalks if no one’s around to water and feed them. I couldn’t have that on my conscience.”

  I felt my own hope shriveling. “So, no word from Gretchen?”

  “Not a frigging peep. And now I’ve got creditors calling and banging on the door day and night. Gretchen owes money all over the city—did you know that? My nerves are shot to hell, Everson. I’m on almost no sleep.” He pulled a cigarette pack from a pocket. “Want one?” Leathery bags hung beneath the goblin’s pinched eyes. When I shook my head, he drew one out and lit it with shaking fingers.

  “When she left you in charge, she said she’d be back in a few days, right?” I asked.

  Bree-yark blew a stream of smoke from the side of his mouth. “Yup. Same thing she says every time. Only for this goblin it’s gonna be the last time. Soon as she gets back, I’m dropping the axe. Over and done with, sweetheart.”

  If I hadn’t known my teacher, I would have been worried she was trapped like the Order. But Bree-yark was right. This was Gretchen being Gretchen. So what options did that leave me? I knew one other person in Faerie, but—

  Bree-yark spiked his cigarette against the ground. “I don’t frigging believe it.”

  I followed his squinted gaze to the street where a battered transport van had pulled up to the curb.

  “Who’s that?” I asked.

  But the goblin was already storming past me. “She’s not here!” he shouted. “Am I gonna have to pound that through your thick skull?”

  The young man heaving himself out of the driver side had a boyish face and the beefy body of someone who’d played offensive line on his high-school football team. He stared back at Bree-yark with a pair of close-set blue eyes.

  “Hey, I’m just doing my job, little fella.”

  His voice was pleasant, but he had no idea what sort of creature he was dealing with.

  “Little fella?” Bree-yark picked up a rock from a bed of them and slung it at the young man’s head. Anticipating the attack, I spoke a quick invocation. The rock rebounded from a wall of hardened air and clattered to the walkway. The young man, who had begun flipping through a messy bill pad, missed the whole show.

  I hurried past Bree-yark. “What’s this about?”

  “My name’s Otto, sir. Otto Vander Meer.” Dutch, I thought automatically. “I deliver for my parents’ store. The woman who lives here owes us…” He consulted the pad. “…twenty-eight hundred twenty in antique furniture. Either she settles up today, or I have to take them back. Poppa’s orders.”

  He said it almost apologetically.

  “She didn’t make arrangements to pay you?” I asked.

  “Nope, just the twenty percent down. She’s missed the last six months.”

  Taking off with unpaid bills and leaving a goblin to deal with the fallout? That was bad even for Gretchen. Of course it was much more likely that the terms-of-payment details had flitted from her mind the second she’d left the antique shop. I glanced back at Bree-yark. He’d picked up another rock and was tossing it up and down in his hand. I gestured for him to cool it and turned back to Otto.

  “Look, she’s not here,” I sighed. “But I’ll make sure she settles up when she gets back. Can you give me a copy of the balance?” I nodded at the bill pad, where several pink carbon copies hung loose.

  “Sorry, sir, but Poppa was clear as a bell: ‘Come back with the money or the goods, or don’t come back at all.’”

  When he licked his lips worriedly, I peered back at the house. I had no idea what among Gretchen’s hoardings belonged to the store, and with the townhouse warded six ways to Sunday, I couldn’t let him search for the items himself, not without serious risk to his life and limbs. On the other hand, if he kept coming back, Bree-yark was going to end up cutting him. I considered using my wizard’s voice to send him on his way, but he was too nice a kid, and I didn’t want him to get bawled out, or worse, by his poppa. I dug out my wallet, not believing what I was about to do.

  “Will you accept a check?” I grumbled.

  Otto blinked in surprise. “Oh, absolutely, sir. Here’s a pen.”

  I took a crumpled check from behind my nest of bills, flattened it against my wallet, and used Otto’s pen to scrawl out the amount of Gretchen’s impulse purchase plus interest. So not only had she been zero help, she was costing me almost three grand. I finished my signature with enough force to leave a tear. Otto took the check enthusiastically anyway.

  “I’ll get you a receipt, sir!”

  While he climbed back into his truck, Bree-yark strolled up.

  “You’ll never see that money again, you know,” he remarked, tossing his rock aside.

  “Yeah, well, maybe I’ll be able to leverage it for Gretchen’s help in the future.”

  “Doubtful.”

  He was probably right, but I was too peeved to dwell on it further. “Hey, whatever happened that night you escorted Mae home?”

  He appeared surprised by the question before smiling. “Oh, that was nice.”

  “You don’t have to share the details,” I said quickly. “I was just curious.”

  “No, nothing like that happened.” He looked offended. “I was a gentleman. I walked her to her door, kissed her cheek, and then waited in the hallway while she went inside to find the pair of clippers she’d promised me. When she came back, she gave them to me like this.” Bree-yark cupped the underside of my hand and pretend-placed a pair of guillotine clippers in my palm. When he withdrew his hand, he brushed my fingers with the backs of his trimmed talons, which sent the bad kind of shivers through me.

  “Yeah, just like that,” he said.

  I grimaced more than smiled, while resisting the urge to scour my hand against my pants to kill the lingering sensation.

  “She offered to let me keep the clippers, but I told her I’d bring
them back. ‘You know, when I pick you up for dinner.’ That’s what I told her. Oh, she liked that, Everson. We made plans for tonight. Six p.m. There’s this great little oyster bar down on Delancey Street I want to take her to.” He broke off suddenly.

  “What?” I asked.

  “That is, unless you need my help. I know you came looking for Gretchen, but when we last talked, I said you could count on me if you ever needed backup. Well, it’s still on offer. Anytime, anyplace.”

  After being outvoted by the Upholders, having someone like Bree-yark staunchly in my corner, ready to drop everything at a moment’s notice, almost had me tearing up. Though I didn’t require his help as such, the fact he’d lived most of his hundred-plus years in Faerie got me thinking.

  “You wouldn’t happen to know any trustworthy fae?” I asked.

  “Trustworthy fae? That’s like asking if I know any nonvenomous basilisks.”

  I gave a dry laugh. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

  “Why?” he asked. “What do you need one of them for?”

  I gave him a brief rundown of the time catch and the challenges of entering.

  “You might as well be speaking Satyr,” he said. “But if you find a way to get there, let me know. I’ve got your back.” He began throwing punches in the air, his short, corded arms popping out like pistons.

  “Just enjoy your date with Mae. And tell her ‘hi’ for me.”

  At that moment, Otto climbed back out of the truck and handed me the receipt. I stuffed it away in a coat pocket, too sickened to look at the amount. Otto seized my right hand and gave it several hearty pumps. “I really appreciate you doing this, sir,” he said. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

  “Actually, which way are you headed?”

  “I’m fixing to make a delivery uptown.”

  “Can you drop me off somewhere on the way?”

  I could have caught a cab, but the thought of recovering a pinch of that money on saved fare eased the sting a little.

  “Heck, I don’t see why not,” Otto said. “Hop in.”

  I climbed into the truck’s cab and waved goodbye to Bree-yark through the window. He threw a couple final punches, then touched two fingers to his squat brow. As Otto swung the van around, the goblin disappeared from my view.