Inimical

by Genevieve Iseult Eldredge

  White flames blast the Xi away from me.

  “Syl!”

  “Got your back.” Syl winks at me, and every inch of me flushes with relief.

  My Summer girl dives in, and now, we’re both fighting for our lives. Kicking, punching, ducking. Syl slams a heel into the Xi’s side, smashing the troll into the lockers. The metal bends with a piteous screech. Xi falls, and I leap in, a flying punch.

  Xi rolls to one side, and my fist slams into the lockers. A huge bank tears off and clunks to the wet, steamy floor.

  Oh well. Maura needed an upgrade anyway.

  Meanwhile, my dark self is loving this, exulting in the destruction. More, more, more! I stagger beneath my own black thoughts, struggling not to drive my ice daggers into the Xi’s heart.

  The Xi’s…

  Or better yet, that fair Fae princess.

  “No!” I hurl the daggers away from me. They shatter on the broken lockers. Instantly, my dark self diminishes in my mind. Just in time for the Xi to punch me a good one.

  I crash back into the glass trophy case.

  Not my best moment.

  “Syl, Euphoria!”

  I recognize that voice. Fear spikes down my spine. “Lennon!”

  She stands at the end of the hallway, wet black hair clinging to wide cheekbones. Her round eyes go rounder. She’s Wakeful now, and she sees the Xi—tall, blue-tinged skin, small horns at the temples, furnacing orange eyes, Inimical claws.

  “I’ll get help!” Lennon darts away like a bunny.

  The Xi lunges for her, but I leap in, grab the Xi around the neck, and heave—slam!—into the lockers again.

  Fast as a snake, the Xi’s up. Ducking a flare of white flame, they lash out. I block. My arm comes away stinging.

  Note to self: dodge next time.

  The bell for the beginning of class rings out.

  Despite my crappy situation, I smirk, goading. “You’re messing up my perfect attendance record, Xi.”

  Xi’s lips pull back over sharp fangs. “You’ll survive.”

  But will we?

  The Xi’s here to infect me and Syl both, so my father can control us, destroy Fair Faerie, become Overking, and generally rule the world like a complete megalomaniac.

  For real, he puts the fun in dysfunctional.

  Still…we’ve got to win this fight, and now.

  The Xi’s eyes flare crimson. “You feel it too, don’t you, Highness? With the hearthstone dying, its power is wild, uncontrolled. I know you feel it.”

  I do. This hearthstone is sucking in all the power of UnderHollow, making it stronger and stronger every day.

  My dark self is stronger, too.

  I feel her resonating within me, the Winter in my blood twisting, driving me toward darker impulses, darker desires.

  “Rouen!” Syl’s voice brings me back.

  I thrust those thoughts away.

  The Xi smiles. “If you won’t possess her, perhaps your father will.”

  Cold fury rushes through me, wisps of lightning coiling around my fists. “Over my dead body.”

  “Well, over your unconscious body.”

  The shadows thicken, and suddenly, I can’t see. My sense of smell is fouled, the stench of bursting shadow like diesel fuel and winter mist combined to make me dizzy, nauseated. “Syl!” Even her white flame can’t cut through the black fog.

  I lose her in the shadows.

  A murky silhouette moves in the gloom.

  I lash out, hit only air. Blast it all!

  “Once you’re infected, I’ll take you back to your father.” Xi’s voice comes, disembodied, all around me, everywhere but nowhere at once. “You will marry one of the sons of the arch-Eld and be the obedient daughter of the Overking.”

  “Never!” I snarl through gritted teeth.

  A fist of shadow punches from the darkness. It hits me in the stomach, and I go down, gasping. I feel Syl, lost and blind in the gloom. Anger sweeps into me, cold and stark. I won’t let my father win.

  The Xi’s got other plans, though. They grab me, drag me up, slamming me into the lockers. Wham! Wham, wham! They crumple inward. I’m leaving Rouen-shaped dents everywhere. Like Wile E Coyote.

  Only, this isn’t a cartoon.

  This is real. And I am sucking.

  The Xi slams me again, troll strength putting me through the lockers, into the wall. Wood and rain and stone fall around me. My head smacks something hard, and my vision is a riot of stars.

  Somewhere, I hear Syl screaming my name.

  Everything is heat and shadow and rain.

  My heart’s amped up to the max, drumming, drumming, drumming…

  Like the drumming of a horse’s hooves.

  What is happening?

  And then, the shadows part over orange-red flame. Black smoke plumes, busting with the scent of spicy habaneros, and a massive black warhorse barrels into the Xi, knocking them into the other wall with a bone-crunching smack!

  No, not a warhorse. A dark Fae night-mare.

  “Miss Jardin!” Syl and I chorus like we’re in some high school play.

  Night-mare Miss Jardin rears up, sharp hooves pawing the air, nearly touching the broken fluorescents. She crashes down, busting up the tiles.

  The Xi tries to roll clear, but those black hooves crush down, slamming the troll assassin into the floor again and again. The Xi crumples, a teeny little gasp the only hint that they’re still alive.

  Trolls are nigh impossible to kill—something I’m thankful for right now. The Xi isn’t my enemy. It isn’t their fault my father’s turned into a tyrant.

  The night-mare turns, mane smoking, eyes ablaze, pawing the floor.

  “Didn’t…need your help,” I gasp, pulling myself up with as much dignity as I can muster.

  Syl’s at my side in an instant. “Roue!”

  The night-mare nickers, and then before our very eyes, it revolves inside its skin, black sleekness warping, twisting, bones snapping, and Miss Jardin stands up, cracking her neck. She pulls her glasses from who-knows-where and sets them back on her nose, dainty as you please.

  As if on cue, the sprinkler system stops, the flashing lights stop.

  The quiet seems absurdly loud.

  I fix the pocket púca with a glare, which she soundly ignores.

  “Miss Skye, Miss Rivoche, you are both out of bounds. You will rejoin your class immediately.”

  Ladies and gentlemen, the Queen of Understatement.

  “What about…?” I look back at the destroyed hall.

  “I’m sure the football team will apologize for the damage they’ve done.” She looks at me over her chunky black glasses and then turns a nicer gaze on Syl. “That was your last freebie. If you’d like, I can deal with this.” She wrinkles her nose at the Xi, lying in an unconscious puddle.

  Her meaning’s clear: I’ll help you. For a price.

  Syl looks to me. “I know you don’t like it, but…”

  But is right. The next words come with a heavy sigh. “What choice do we have?”

  I won’t kill the Xi, but… We do need a creative solution to our troll assassin problem.

  And Miss Jardin’s the key.

  The púca librarian’s spectacles flash like triumph in the dim lights. “Bring the Xi into my library.” Turning on her heel, she stalks off, black smoke wafting from her jacket, stray sparks striking from her heels, leaving me and Syl staring after her.

  “Unbelievable.” I shake my head. “She could’ve at least helped us carry the body.”

  15

  SYL

  Pocket púca

  Dangerous, mischievous, cunning,

  Traffic with one at your peril

  - Glamma’s Grimm

  * * *

  It’s true what they say—there’s a first time for everything. Your first date, your first kiss, the first time you fight a troll assassin in the seedy back hallway of your high school and then drag their body to the library to hide what you did.

  What can
I say? I like to show my girl a good time.

  Roue toes the Xi, but the platinum-blonde dark Fae is out cold. If they were a cartoon character, there’d be two X’s where the Xi’s eyes are. Roue glances at me, relief that I’m okay zinging down our soul-bond. “Well, that was special.”

  “Just a day in the life.” I sling my wet curls out of my face. “We need to move.” The fire alarms and sprinklers have stopped. There are no other kids in the halls, but we’re not in the clear. “It’s only a matter of time before the fire department comes in to clear the place.”

  “Right.” In the end, Roue just slings the Xi over her shoulder and carries the lanky troll assassin to Miss Jardin’s library. Feet sloshing in puddles, I walk behind her, watching the sexy way her wet top clings to every muscle in her back and shoulders.

  Maybe I should be thanking the Xi instead of bringing them to Miss Jardin?

  My girl looks totally badass and swoon-worthy.

  All the butterflies in my stomach start Irish step-dancing. Wow, is it warm in here? My cheeks flush, heat rushes over my entire body, and I nearly forget why we’re tromping across the school, lugging a troll assassin to the library when we should be outside waiting for the fire department to clear us.

  You know, like normal students.

  But when we get to the library, reality comes crashing back in.

  We’re about to enter the pocket dimension of a very powerful púca.

  Sweat slicks my palms, but I’m so wet from the sprinklers I can’t even wipe them on my uniform skirt. Ugh. Gross. With a wave of my hand, I summon my Summer power. Warmth rushes into me, the heat drying out my clothes, my hair. I wave a hand and do the same for Roue.

  She gives me an approving chin-nod. “Nice trick, princess.”

  “Thanks.” I get all blushy. “You’re not the only one who can use her power creatively.”

  Roue gives me a weird deer in the headlights look.

  Note to self: ask her about this later. “Ready?”

  Shifting the Xi higher on her shoulder, Roue nods. “Whenever you are, princess.”

  The heavy doors loom, the emergency lights making them glow like the gates of hell. I put my hand on the door. It’s warm, and the scent of roses is almost overpowering it. Beneath that, I catch a whiff of spicy habaneros.

  “At least we know she’s home,” I joke weakly. Head in the game, Syl.

  Dealing with Miss Jardin is going to take all my wits. Plus… “I’ll probably have to cut a deal with her.”

  Which means releasing her from one of her geis conditions.

  Roue gives me some serious side-eye. Even if we didn’t have the soul-bond, I’d sense her distrust of the pocket púca. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want.”

  “Okay.” But the truth is, we can’t really train for the duel while dodging a killer dark Fae assassin.

  We need to take the Xi out of our Faerie equation.

  Even if it means making a deal with a dangerous dark Fae—a deal that could set her loose upon the school, the world. Us. Because the truth is, someone defeated Miss Jardin in battle and put the geis on her, and we still don’t know who.

  Still, it’s a calculated risk.

  We might set her free, but if Roue and I don’t train up, if we lose to her father, at least one half of Faerie’s definitely going to go kablooey.

  I swallow hard, gearing myself up.

  “Syl?” Roue prods gently.

  “On it.” I take a deep breath and push the doors open.

  The library is lit with the red exit lights, and inside, it looks a thousand times more ghoulish, a hellscape of books and stacks and computers, with Miss J’s massive cherry-wood desk dominating the room.

  Right off the bat, I notice two things.

  One, there’s no water damage, no broken sprinklers, no rain, nothing. Which means, the sprinklers never went off in here (doubt it), or Miss Jardin’s warded the library against casual damage (bingo!).

  And two, there’s an adorable tuxedo kitty sitting on Miss J’s desk.

  Immediately, giant dork that I am, I rush into the room. Because—kitty! “Miss Hillary!” I scritch her under the chin and boodle her a bit, putting my face right into her soft fluffy underbelly-parts. She rolls over, purring like a tiny motorboat. “Awww…”

  I glance back at Roue, but she only dumps the Xi on one of the computer desks. “I refuse to bow to that kitty’s cuteness.”

  “But look!” I raise Miss Hillary’s paw and wave at Roue. “So fluffy!”

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. Her other form is a dragon,” a smooth, smoky voice says.

  “Whoa!” I jump about a mile, whip around, and see Miss J coming through the stacks. She’s only a dark silhouette, those glasses of hers lit up red-hot. It’s like a disembodied pair of spectacles coming at us in the dark.

  “Other…form?” Tell me she’s kidding.

  But Miss J only folds her arms across her chest and nods. “Mm-hm.”

  “Uh…sorry.” I jerk my hand away. Miss Hillary swats me playfully. “Aww, kitty!” And the whole thing starts all over ag—

  “Wait a minute!”

  I pull my hand away again, noticing how Miss Hillary’s eyes are glowing a wicked yellow. “Did she… Did she just faestrike me?”

  Miss Jardin’s laugh is a deep rumble like heavy hooves drumming in the darkness. “Go on now.” She makes shoo fingers at the tuxedo cat.

  “Mrowor.” Miss Hillary stalks away, tail held high.

  “Now.” Miss Jardin hops up on the desk and folds her hands over her knee. “What can I do for you two ladies?”

  “Really?” Roue growls, glancing at the unconscious troll assassin. “That’s how you want to play this?”

  Miss J looks over her spectacles at my girl.

  Roue’s growl dials up a few notches.

  Great, just what we need—a dark Fae showdown in my library.

  I get between them. “Look. We need your help.”

  Miss J’s as cool as an entire produce section of cucumbers. “You know what it will cost you.”

  Ugh. I was hoping she wouldn’t say that, but Miss Jardin is a pocket púca, and pocket púca love to make and break deals. Normally, she’d be able to travel all the dimensions—which is super-handy—but unless she’s helping me, she’s trapped here by a geis to protect me. I don’t know who-all defeated her, but suffice to say, that geis has an unknown number of conditions.

  Once they’re met, she’s free.

  “Well, Miss Skye?” She’s staring intently at us, her spectacles glowing, the smell of spicy peppers overpowering the roses she keeps to mask her power.

  You can see why I’m not keen to let her run around unsupervised.

  “I was thinking…” I toe the carpet. “Maybe you could just…help us?”

  Her laugh ricochets off the stacks, making the place seem too tight and too big all at once. “I am geised to protect you, not take care of Miss Rivoche’s problems.” Miss Jardin dips her spectacles an inch. “Isn’t that right, Miss Rivoche, that this”—she waves vaguely at the Xi—“is your problem?”

  It’s not exactly true, because Roue’s dad sending troll assassins to infect us with Inimical is definitely a combination Syl/Rouen problem.

  “What can you do anyway?” Roue scoffs and folds her arms, looking away. Her frustration oozes down the bond. “It’s not like you can just drop the Xi into another dimension or anything. Not anymore.”

  Miss Jardin’s eye twitches. Roue definitely hit a nerve. “I could keep the Xi from attacking you.” The way Miss Jardin’s looking at me, though, I know by you, she means me and only me.

  Roue’s frown practically turns into a gloomy-doomy dark cloud over her head.

  I nudge her. “It’ll be okay.”

  “Mrowrk?” Miss Hillary leaps up on a podium, her eyes all yellow and glowy.

  “Well…” I meet Miss J’s eyes. “If I remove one of your geis conditions. If,” I say, noticing how she’s prac
tically drooling. “You have to make it so the Xi can’t attack us.” I flick my gaze to Roue. “Either of us.”

  Miss J’s look sours, and for a second, I think she’s going to refuse, then she waves her hand. “Fine, fine.” She hops down from the desk and heads toward the gardens. She throws open the doors.

  Instantly, the smell of roses, full blown and punch-drunk, hits me. There are hundreds out there, blood-red and blooming. She beckons. “Bring the Xi.”

  Watching the púca like a hawk, Roue hefts the Xi onto her shoulder and carries the troll assassin out toward the gardens. Luckily, the assembly spots for fire drills and emergencies are on the other side of the building, so there’s no one around to see us.

  Even so, Miss J flings up a hand, and a powerful Glamoury settles over us, prickling like tiny thorns. Instantly, we’re perfumed with a rose scent and hidden from any prying eyes.

  “Put the Xi here.” Miss Jardin points at a bench in the center of the rose garden. On every side, trellises of roses curl and unfurl, forming an almost cage around us, the air heavy with that perfumey-sweet smell.

  I rub my itchy nose. “Ugh. It’s like Yankee Candle threw up in here.”

  Roue sets the Xi down on the bench. It’s now I get a good look at the troll assassin. Angular features, sharp cheekbones and hooded eyes, the Xi’s all sharp angles encased in pale blue-tinged skin, right down to the two tiny horns curling from their temples. Plus, every inch is wrapped in black leather, about a thousand throwing knives strapped to those powerful arms.

  “Good thing they didn’t use those on us,” I send to Roue.

  Her shiver races down the bond. “You have no idea.”

  “Stand back. You ladies do not want to be caught in the spell’s radius.” Miss Jardin’s warning is just theater, though, because she immediately starts gesturing, fingers knitting in the air.

  The roses around us shiver on their trellises, then flash hellish, glowing red. Thorny tendrils shoot out and writhe around the Xi’s body, encasing every inch in root and bramble. Miss J’s whispering something in a growly language, sweat standing out on her brow, the stench of habaneros shimmering the air, so hot I can taste it.

  Now it’s less Yankee Candle in here and more like hell’s version of Taco Bell, all sweaty, spicy. My eyes are watering, my nose burns.