Troll Tunnels

by Erin M. Hartshorn

  A month later, three words: “I’m pregnant again.”

  That would be Aunt Rena.

  Chapter 25

  Beth dropped in on Monday, “A show of support,” she said. She didn’t need to remind me that this was the week of the court hearing. Wednesday morning, eleven o’clock — my stomach did flips just thinking about it.

  I forced a smile of thanks and started making her drink. I didn’t want to talk about the twins right now. She hadn’t said much to me about her art since her show had closed at the gallery, and every time I brought it up, she changed the subject. Today wasn’t any different.

  I handed her drink to her, doing my best to ignore the oiliness that clung to my fingers when her hand brushed mine. “Have you done more like the painting you gave me? It’s a completely different feel for you, and I love it. I’d really like to hang some of it here.”

  She gave the current display a side-eye and sniffed, though she tried to mask the sound by lifting her coffee as though she were smelling it. “You could use a change of pace, certainly. You could have saved yourself some trouble if you’d looked for professional-level art in the first place.”

  This week’s display was a set of lovely sketches done in the style of woodcuts — black on cream and white on sepia. Bold and stark, they brought an old-fashioned perspective to modern objects such as an iPhone, a cup of coffee, and a Charlie Card. I really wanted the coffee cup to hang in my office, but I figured Kari deserved to have a wider audience appreciate it before I snatched it away. I glanced at her now, and she pointedly looked away. Beth hadn’t taken any trouble to be quiet in her assessment.

  “I like the art I display. I believe it is professional level. And if students don’t learn to seek out venues where people will value their work and pay them for it, they never will cross over to full professionalism. You taught me that.”

  She pursed her lips to blow on her coffee as she took a step to one side and looked around the coffee shop. “I suppose. But generally, you launch with a big name to draw the crowds first.”

  Not that she was a big name. Outside of the agency she worked for, no one had heard of her before her recent gallery show. She knew that as well as I did.

  “I like a cozier vibe than most art galleries. What can I say? I’m a simple woman at heart.”

  It was amazing the number of coughs with that small a group. And not one of them a genuine “Augh, what is this virus that has stricken me?” cough. I glanced at my customers, but they were all studiously occupied doing something else. All except Beth, who eyed me skeptically. “Simple women do not have murals painted on the ceiling in the coffeehouse they manage. They do not have children because their ex asks them to. They do not graduate with high honors and then decide to become a barista. They do not — should I go on?”

  “No, that will do,” I said dryly. I supposed simple women didn’t date muses either, but in that case, I was okay with not being simple. “Do I get an answer? I’d like to put some of your work on display.”

  “Hmmm. No, I think my more recent stuff might be a little too dark and disturbing for your customers. I might have some older work that would do, though. Remind me, and I’ll text you pictures.”

  “I will.” I took out my cellphone and wrote a note to myself. Too dark and disturbing around here? Was this yet another sign of the changes Tiamat’s power was working in her? “I do like your newer stuff, though.”

  “You haven’t seen the most recent. Your piece was transitional.” She set her coffee down and scrolled on her phone before holding it out to me. “See for yourself.”

  I took the phone gingerly, wary of touching her again, but the image on the phone made knots that crawled and twisted inside me. The geometric precision of the darkness, repeated but not quite, was just like the doodle she’d done on the napkin — slightly off in a way that felt like Tiamat’s coils clasping me tight again to squeeze out the air in my lungs. If I had been changed by the ghosts, so too had she been changed by her encounters.

  Schooling my expression — hoping I had shown no flash of the fear or worry that gnawed at me — I nodded slowly. “Yes, I see. Not quite the cheerful vibe we usually have here.”

  And definitely not something I wanted to look at every day.

  “No, nothing so simple.” She raised her voice again. Was she pitching it deliberately to antagonize Kari? But she didn’t know that Kari was the artist. “But at least these students know how to hang their art properly — no dropped canvases or chipped frames. Maybe I’ll see if some of them want to pick up some extra money as handlers.”

  That had been too pointed. She must have passed by when the students were switching out the art over the weekend, so even if she didn’t know that it was Kari’s art, she knew that Kari was involved.

  My chest felt heavy, and I had to force myself not to frown. Every time I saw Beth, I came face to face with the knowledge that she not only had been changed, she continued to change, and not for the better. At first, I had thought it was primarily trauma, being kidnapped, having her will sapped, in every sense being at the mercy of someone who had no pity. That was part of it, I was certain, but Tiamat’s influence was taking over.

  It most definitely was not a good idea for her to go to Brian and Karen’s wedding and hang out with Clay. The two of them together might break memories open — and that wouldn’t be good for her, for him, or for the world. Realistically, though, I couldn’t stop it. Not without putting a hex on her to keep her from the wedding and reception. That wasn’t something I was willing to do. Beth was my friend — I needed to help her, not hurt her more.

  One more reason for me to focus on my healing studies. I had to start scheduling extra practice into my day. Maybe I should take a leaf from my daughter’s book and practice every time I thought someone wasn’t looking. No, that was a cop-out. I could stand here and focus on tracing the magical energy within me, and not one person around me would be the wiser. I should simply practice every chance I had, which did not include in the middle of conversations.

  Pushing all of that aside, I said, “Professionals, remember? Not gophers. I’ll be sure to tell them how much you admired the care they take in their work, though.”

  Her lips twisted at my rephrasing of what she had said, but she didn’t contradict me. Saluting me with her cup, she said, “I should get back to work now. Thanks for the drink.”

  I nodded. “Watch for my text.”

  My heart grew heavier as I watched her go. People come and go in your life, and growing up I saw many duos and trios of friends form, break up, and reform in new configurations. Somehow, though, I’d believed that would never happen to me and Beth, that we would be there for each other forever. After her casual cruelty today, I wasn’t sure that could be true any more — that it could ever have been true. I’d spent too much time fighting the darkness I feared inside myself to succumb to my friend’s worse nature. I would find a way to make a difference in her life. Neither of us would fall.

  Chapter 26

  I didn’t recognize the troll magic that showed up midmorning, but given the strength, I was pretty certain the troll was out in the alley. This must be the new troll — Níal — that Iárn had told me to watch for.

  “I’ve got to step out for a bit,” I told Ximena. “Trish should be in soon. If you need me for anything, text me.”

  With my magic boosts, I was reasonably certain that my cellphone would get reception even in the depths of the troll tunnels. Not that I’d be able to get back immediately, so I hoped nothing came up. Still — “That includes if Kendall drops in, or if Rich should decide to come by and turn in his key finally.”

  As far as I know, Rich still hadn’t come by for any reason — certainly, the extra layer of magic I’d added to the ward hadn’t been tripped since the break-in. If he did visit, though, I wanted to know about it before any trouble started.

  “All right.” She sounded puzzled. “I thought you were planning to be in most of the day
because the new people were going to be coming in.”

  “I’ll be back.” I hoped I sounded certain. The trolls didn’t have much care for how long their work took, as long as I got it done, and this was a troll I’d never met.

  I took the bota bag of trollmiod from my desk drawer, grateful that I’d refilled it from the keg, and took a hearty drink. I had a feeling I was going to need it. Then I grabbed my coat, locked the office, slipped out the back door, and waited for my eyes to adjust to the gloom of the alley. After a moment, I picked out a figure in the shadow of the Dumpster, sheltering from even the small amount of ambient light that reached this spot.

  “Hello. Are you Níal?”

  She sniffed. “Who else would I be? Iárn did not say you were stupid.”

  He hadn’t said that she would be rude, either.

  “Fine. I assume I’m supposed to be doing another patch job. Lead on.”

  Her hand, which was covered with curled and shaggy hair, reached out to tap the bricks beside her. The opening appeared, as they usually did, all at once, with no apparent motion. “In.”

  I walked past without looking at her, stepping into the darkness that was becoming all too familiar, though thanks to the trollmiod I had drunk, I still saw hints of gold light. I was fairly certain that Níal would not have brought me any. If I hadn’t felt the sabotage at Logan, I might think Sverth was in trouble for sharing the drink with me. Did anyone know what he had done? I hoped not — that might cause even more trouble for him.

  Inside the tunnel, I walked, certain that the tunnel would lead to where I needed to go. The normal vertigo washed over me, accompanied this time by a slightly acrid smell.

  “What’s that?” I asked, but Níal didn’t answer me. Fine, then. I kept walking. As before, I felt something reminiscent of Tiamat’s coils nearby. I had to figure out how to get to the spot, where presumably the shrine stood, so I could keep Tiamat’s witches away. Not today, though.

  At length, Níal pushed past me, forcing me to stop. Light flooded in, blinding me. I stood still, blinking to clear my vision. I expected her to exit, but she pushed me. “Go.”

  She came out behind me. She was very sensitive to the idea that I might see her. That was probably normal for a troll, since most people couldn’t see them.

  We were in a basement lit only by the wintry light seeping in from grimy windows half-buried in leaves. An old furnace, battered and dinged, sat in one corner with surprisingly clean replacement air filters resting up against it. Boxes were piled around the edges of the room, sealed with strapping tape, the old-fashioned sort with the strings in it. I grimaced at the stained floor — I didn’t really want to have to sit on it. Who knew what sort of stains I was going to get on my pants?

  Not that I had a choice — I could feel the gap beneath us without her guidance. Pulsing my magic, I took an overview of the gap. It was longer than the building, most of a city block in length, and it varied in width. It also split at one end, which meant a simple hook-and-loop closure wasn’t going to be enough — the split itself would need some sort of reinforcement.

  After looking longingly at the air filters — they would keep my pants clean, but they’d also interfere with my contact with the ground — I found a spot wide enough to sit down. I placed my hands flat on the floor to either side of me and let my power trickle out to line the gap. My cursory initial reading had missed some spidery cracks off to the edges that threatened to become splits of their own — a couple of them had already started widening deep down and were threatening to send off fissures in every direction.

  I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, sending my magic out in a more deliberate fashion, letting it slide to cover every surface of the gap, an electrostatic curtain that clearly showed the scope of this gap. If I hadn’t already gone to Canada with Sverth, this would be daunting. As it was, I was grateful that I’d sipped the trollmiod, but I was certain I could do this.

  Starting with the thinnest lines, I crafted hooks and eyes, loops of attraction to seal them closed. I criss-crossed the larger spaces with a web of lines, under tension and designed to tug the sides nearer the way I had bridged the chasm in Calgary.

  A boulder of troll magic crashed through the middle of my web, yanking some of the lines from the walls completely and bending and dislocating others. I jerked in shock, but more piled in, heaping on each other.

  “This is a job for trolls.” The whisper was vicious. “I do not need you to do this work. If Iárn had not insisted, you would not be here today.”

  I let the connecting web drop, though I kept the outline of the gap in place. This was not the time to argue with Níal about who could do the job better. If the trolls could do it without me, I would be perfectly happy.

  While the gap filled with her magic, I pulsed to monitor the progress. Alongside the solidity of the boulders, I caught a faint echo of the gap, something that pulled at my magic and tried to soak it up. My first instinct was to pull away again, but instead, I pushed more magic at the hole to try to light it up. Instead, it melted, as the acidic magic coating Sverth’s had done, reacting with my magic to dissolve into something that was greater than both our magics, bonding it beyond strength.

  Tension crept along my spine. Níal was the one who had sabotaged the work at Logan. I was certain of it, but I could not prove it.

  “Perhaps you are as useful as Iárn said you were.” She didn’t sound as if that made her happy, but then it wouldn’t, if she was trying to stop the repairs. I just didn’t know why she would.

  When we finished, I pushed myself off the floor and turned around. With great willpower, I kept my arms from shaking. I was not about to show her weakness.

  This time, I caught a glimpse of her before she sank further into the shadows. Her scalp was covered with the same tightly curled hair as her hand, but she had nubs of horns in it. I wanted to ask whether all female trolls had them. Instead, I motioned toward the wall. “Time to go back?”

  Wordlessly, she put her hand against the wall and opened it again. She didn’t move form the shadows until I was past her and moving down the tunnel again. Yes, she carried the same acidic smell as the magic — but it was possible, likely even, that she didn’t experience magic the same way I did, so she had no idea what I’d been asking before about the acrid smell.

  We made the trip in silence except for our footfalls, our breath, and the rustle of our clothing. This time, I was prepared when she pushed past me, and I stepped to the side to allow her room. Once the opening appeared, I walked through without looking back. “Till next time,” I said.

  She didn’t say anything, and I went back into the coffee shop. I was going to make an extra large mug of Carole’s tea, maybe even spike it with trollmiod. That should start the replenishing process at least. I glanced at the clock. And I should have time to finish it before Svetlana arrived. No need to advertise that I had a drink that would boost my magic. The last thing I wanted was Tiamat’s witches to be stronger.

  Trish had already come in, but the new hires hadn’t. I put myself to work in the kitchen. As I pulled a tray of blueberry nut muffins out of the oven, prickling raced up and down my arms. Dorothy had just been in last week to warn me to stay away from the Tiamat witches, and as far as I knew, nothing had happened over the weekend. So why come here now?

  Only one way to find out. I slid the muffins onto a rack to cool, and headed out to the front.

  Sure enough, she walked in a few minutes later, her trademark glower on her face. “Pepper!”

  Ximena gave me a concerned look, but I waved her away. “What is it this time, Dorothy?”

  “I want you to stay away from Maggie. That’s always been my safe place, my haven. And now you’re ruining it.”

  I looked at her in disbelief. “I’ve known Maggie far longer than you have.” Longer, anyway. “I’m not about to stop visiting her because you don’t want me to.”

  Her lips pinched tighter. “You can visit your friend, but it doesn�
��t have to be when you know I’m going to be there. That’s fair, isn’t it?”

  In other words, she wanted me to go back to the way it had been — me staying away from the other witches and being viewed with great suspicion because of it. Not to mention being nagged to come by more often. The main problem was that I’d decided I liked going.

  Also, I didn’t want to oblige her. Dorothy rubbed me the wrong way. It wasn’t just her magic — she was an unpleasant person and proud of it.

  “No. It’s not. Maggie invited me. If you don’t like that, you can take it up with her.”

  “She’s too nice. She wouldn’t listen to me before when I told her about you, when I warned them all. She’s not going to uninvite you.”

  “Maybe that’s because she knows me better than you do.”

  “I don’t think so.” Her mouth worked a bit, and for a moment I was afraid she was going to spit on the counter. We had plenty of disinfectant, but it was the thought of it. She refrained, or maybe I’d been wrong to begin with. Instead she said, “She’s blinded by who you used to be. But I know what you are, and I can prove it. Nothing has worked right in weeks, and it’s all your fault.”

  I shook my head. “You’re the same as you’ve always been.” It was true — I could feel her magic. That was what had alerted me to her coming. If she was having trouble, it wasn’t because she had changed.

  She leaned in, lowering her voice so even Ximena couldn’t hear us. “You did something with your words. I felt it. You know it happened, too. I can see it in your face. Tell me what you did.”

  “I didn’t do anything,” I said softly. “You did.”

  “You think I cursed myself?”

  “You said you wanted Hekate to reward you for your actions.” There, I’d said it. Told her the heart of everything.