by brett hicks
Her driver, a young puka known for his scary good skills of evasion and gruella warfare, twisted the SUV in a sharp turn.
Seri’s sharp mind continued to spin off, tracing the many possible threads of what could be. She swore that she would see her company of four to safety, and she would pull that stubborn kin into her arms and kiss her senseless once the present danger was resolved.
Twenty-Six:
Midnight hung high at one of the darker spots in New York City. Seri arrived at the location of the parley, out of the way from human traffic. The whole area was supposed to be closed, hopefully ensuring no loss of human life tonight, but Seri had borne witness to the many travesties of history perpetrated by the power-hungry immortals seeking to kill their way up the chain of power, playing their hand for control of the Earth Throne.
She was standing outside her SUV, just below the RFK Triborough Bridge. One of the many well-kept grassy fields spread out ahead of her and faced the Harlem River. She was closer than she had hoped to be to Thea’s domain. Dean must have planned the logistics of this meeting with her domain in mind. This would have been the farthest corner of the island from her own land. If you were trying to keep a girl out of Brooklyn, then this would be one of the choicest spots to do so, but Seri was going to Harlem, not Brooklyn.
Seri had little doubt that Dean was now considering this fact, but she was betting that he would have anticipated her retreat to be in the direction of her more well-fortified domain with centuries of peace and defense.
Seri knew New York the way some people memorize their own houses. She could find about fifty methods of escape from this island, regardless of how well fortified his efforts, or how tight his net.
Seri was going to probably need to break through the Harlem River side bridge, if she wanted to get to Harlem, because she was willing to bet against a leprechaun that he had people in the waters. Not people, per-say, but selkies. Sea lion-shifters that had a penchant for drowning people who crossed their little swaths of watery territory.
One of the worst parts of dealing with an eternally pissed off dark fae queen in Manhattan, was her seeming endless supply of watery warriors. She also had kelpies to guard the river further downstream. In fact, she had utilized her watery advantage many a time when trying to make her presence known, or just keep Seri on her toes.
For three-hundred-years, Seri couldn’t recall a single month going by without some form of violence at one of her less defensible borders. Nearly all her people were land-type inhumans, so they just had to play smart until the frosty bitch drove her aggression in-land. Seri had lost a lot of good and faithful subjects to the endless malice of Elisa of the Frost Bloom, queen of Manhattan Kingdom.
To this very day Seri was constantly struggling to maintain balance. Elisa was tireless in her efforts to destroy everything that Seri built. She seemed to never tire of tormenting the Crown Princess, and all because she could.
Cain, Seri’s own father, would never lift a finger to help her, as he would be forced to with any other squabbling domains. He would risk constant exposure just to slight Seri. Never let it be said of Cain, that he was above being petty. Seri knew that like the Baron, and many others, Cain resented her for out-thinking him. Now, she was all alone in a world that knew she was on the menu, and that her domain was only safe so long as she could stand up to hold it.
“They’re here Highness,” Bix said, and Seri nodded slightly.
“Just be ready for anything.”
Seri warned them evenly. Liam snorted in amusement.
“Most bland advice ever Highness.”
Seri didn’t bother to look over to Liam, but she calmly stated, “Remind me to blast your head until it functions properly.”
Liam gave her a courtly bow.
“But of course, Highness.”
Seri sighed, and she wished more than anything that she could tell her friends to flee. Hell, if all that was at stake was her freedom, she might have given up years ago. This was about the long-game, about the throne of Earth and her friends would suffer worse than death if its rule fell to Dean Sylvester!
She heard the gravel grinding and churning in the steady beat of footfalls. They were here, it was time to go to work.
Shadowy visages approached, at first, she couldn’t make them out completely. Seri squinted, and her hand was touching her right hip, where her magic-infused blade hung. Power rushed between her and the long sword, longer than one would expect a woman of her stature to wield, much less master.
Lenard was a short man in stature, and his short-cropped brown hair was the same as his last visit to see Libby. No one would suspect this five-six and one-fifty-pound man was the lord of all the sky fae. The first Sylph and the most powerful by half. He was wearing white tunic and black trousers, styled in the old fashion.
The Sky Lord carried no weapons, but he didn’t need one to be deadly. His element was his greatest power. He could call the winds and the fury of the storm at his every whim and will.
Across from him at a reasonable distance strode the tall blonde devil himself. He was wearing his golden colored tunic and a pair of deeply purple trousers. He was a walking eyesore. Seri knew the meaning of the colors. In her time, when she had been born, rulers wore purple and gold. Commoners were not allowed to wear the purple of royalty. Dean’s message was resounding and offensive to any born royal-blooded child of the Earth Crown.
He was nearly as tall as Liam but lacked about an inch. He was fit and toned, but his body and muscles looked softer by half than Seri’s own. He was a man of leisure who hid behind his raw power. His mass expansion was built on the backs of all those who were unlucky enough to be born in his fiefdom. He also had the raw power to command the dead like other men commanded armies. Cutting down his forces wouldn’t keep them from rising to attack again.
No one else was near them, but Seri knew that he had more lurking around the sides. He wouldn’t miss this chance to snatch Seri, not when he could get this close outside her seat of power. Seri was too deeply entrenched in her own land to be attacked, but here she was vulnerable.
Dean Sylvester would have been a handsome man, if not for the creepy wide smile her wore. He was always smiling, always hiding his plots behind a grin. He smiled as he twisted daggers into the backs of those who thought they could trust him. Trust and Dean did not fit together in the same sentence.
His eyes were like two soulless-pits of hollow brown. His expression never reached his eyes, not unless you angered him, then his real personality appeared. Seri eyed the viper wearily, nothing was off the table with Dean. He will break parley, and he would do so whenever he felt like it. Everything else was just an excuse to force her out into the open. He eyed Seri with a lustful longing that sent fresh chills down her back. Three-centuries had done Nothing to dissuade his illogical infatuation with Seraphina. He saw his crown in her, and powerful children, like the archaic man he was. He hailed from a period where this was all most men saw in women. When they set their eyes on their prize, they would have them, take them like cavemen.
Liam stiffened from next to Seri, no doubt having seen the edge of hunger in the other man’s expression. He was a stark contrast to the shadowy-eyed sylph Sky Lord. Chase was haunted, bereaved and silently inconsolable. Libby had been a beacon of light to the ancient lord. She was a modern child, the last born to her mother, before she passed a few years later. Chase loved his wife, and their children. Unlike Dean, Chase was an honorable man who would do anything for the ones he loved. A fact that Dean was now exploiting.
Seri held her tempest of boiling rage in check. She could end him, or at least she believed she was strong enough to end the three-thousand-year-old necrovamp. A theory she had never been able to put to test. The only advantage she had here was the limit in number to Dean’s possible dead recruits.
After all, no one will agree to parley in a graveyard with a necromancer! That is just as stupid as parlaying in the middle of the ocean with a mermaid! Not
that mermaids tended to care much for the politics and troubles of land dwellers, but they could be ruthless if aggravated.
Seri’s wild pondering were cut short as the necrovamp sucked down a deep, creepy breath of air. This was a ritual of his own making every time he managed to find himself in Seri’s presence. Seri was suddenly reminded of Hannibal Lecter from Silence of the Lambs.
Cold flames washed around her body, but she held her magic tightly under control, afraid that if she lashed out now, Lenard would misunderstand her, or take her aggression as a sign of war. Seri would not be the first to break parley, even if that did leave her vulnerable to a first-strike. Vulnerable was not a comfortable position for the only child of the High King. Seri was accustomed to her place of authority and power, and she was used to having the might to back up anything she did. Feeling powerless, or at least restricted, was a bitter pill.
“Ah, my lovely bride.”
Seri’s skin crawled like it was infested with an assortment of feisty bugs. She had known his tone and greeting were coming, but nothing could stop an instinctual female cringe at filthy male irrationality. How on earth straight women could deal with these beasts, she had no idea!
She held her head high and kept her expression neutral.
“Lord of France, you’re an awfully long way from home to still claim to be on assignment for my father’s interests.”
Dean’s eyes looked mildly annoyed, but his smiling face remained unchanged. The mighty Sky Lord walked closer, ignoring the exchange taking place. He walked into Seri’s personal space, not raising a finger in violence—yet—but his expression was one of molten fury.
“Who killed my youngest child? Who killed my Libby and for what purpose?!”
His voice was filled with visceral murder, an intent so rich inside him that Seri nearly shuddered at the intensity.
How in the blue-blazes am I supposed to convince this man I’m innocent!?
Her thoughts were grim, and her hope dwindled under the ever-darkening skies of full night.
Twenty-Seven:
Liam fought hard to keep himself calm, he had known that the Sky Lord would not be his typical humor-filled self. He had expected the hostilities to be high, but not this high!
“Chase, I’m so sorry for my failure to protect Libby inside my own house, deep in my own domain.”
He snapped at Seri, cutting her off.
“WHO?!”
Seri closed her eyes for a moment and exhaled a deep breath.
“A witch from Boston, he was stalking my kin. As best I can tell, he inserted himself in her life some time ago, and he waited for an opportunity to present itself to him. He had runes of necromancy in his apartment that matched the ones we found at the site of her murder perfectly. He used ward-deadeners to slip into the private living area that is only for my people. Libby should never have expected danger in such a safe location—that was our refuge!”
His fist slammed into the gravels in front of Seri, and rock and dirt exploded. Seri stood starkly still. She didn’t flinch, and she didn’t budge, even under his mighty magic. Dean stepped away and preceded to dust off every inch of his clothing.
“Such a convenient story!”
Seri shook her head and a tear trickled down her cheek. She never showed weakness, but she did show him compassion. Seri reached out slowly, tentatively, and she touched his cheek with her right hand.
“Nothing about this is convenient, not for you, nor for me. Libby was a dear friend to me, like a sister really. She was loved and well respected inside Brooklyn Kingdom. Libby was the protector of our skies, even at her age, she was unrivaled by all, just like you and her brothers. I would never take her from you, nor from me! Even if she was not my friend, nor the daughter of a First, she was a strategic asset to my Kingdom!”
His fury rushed around them, his grip on the air tightened and everyone began to struggle for breath. Lightning clouds rolled in the distance and forked and jagged trails of light illuminated the sky.
“What proof do you have?! How can I trust your word after you have let my daughter die!?”
Seri held her hand before him and turned her wrist up.
“I offer you my blood, if you have a vampire you trust, then I shall spill my precious blood for you. I will not fight them when they feed and seek to establish a link, I will allow them to freely sift through my mind. Know that you are the only person I would offer this resolution to, because my secrets are many.”
He looked back to Dean and his anger had simmered a bit, confusion now occupied his features.
“Lord of France, you swore many oaths to me that you had proof that she and hers killed my Libby, she does not sound like the murderess you had me convinced I was meeting! What is the meaning of…”
He didn’t get to finish the sentence, the brownish tinted metal rushed for his chest, and the old Sylph managed to move just enough, so that the thrust was not fatal. The sword pierced his right shoulder and Lenard sucked down a long-surprised breath.
Seri was on Dean, kicking his chest with the all her considerable might. Her first instinct was to protect Lenard’s life. He is Sky Lord, he is the fourth most powerful inhuman on the planet! His kingdom is grand and its people transverse all the territories. Seri didn’t have a clean stroke of her blade, Dean was still beyond Lenard.
Dean staggered back pulling his blade with him. Seri rushed to meet him again, but the water erupted with many glossy sea-lion bodies and many vicious water-dwelling horses with pointed and long teeth.
Selkies and kelpies, the water-faring portion of Elsa’s army. At a glance, Seri determined their numbers to be over forty, minimal. Vampires and witches began to approach from the south.
Seri swore to herself and she only had a single moment to seethe at Dean’s smug expression. Bix dropped her glamour and Dean’s eyes widened as he realized he had not payed attention. Bix was already notching her first two arrows on her short hunting bow. She let fly silver-tipped arrows and a pair of approaching vampires dropped from head shots. She had trained in the Black Forest until well into her adulthood. She was from deep inside the old German woods.
Her magic rushed out and roses began to bloom along the shoreline. Venomous vines ran up the length of the shore and several seafarers cried out in agony as they touched the poisonous barbs.
Liam was rushing the ones being funneled between two growing hedges, and he lopped off limbs and heads as he could.
Seri turned to check on Lenard. She knelt and inspected his wound. She knew what that necrotic blade was capable of, so she shouldn’t have been surprised to see the beginnings of infection in the wound.
“We need to get him to our destination, now!”
She gestured to her puka companion, Jeff Donald, who was currently in horse form kicking and bucking at several approaching kelpies.
“Jeff, change to your water phase and travel to my kin! She must keep the Sky Lord breathing! Tell her to load him up on antibiotics and fast!”
“Aye, milady!”
Jeff thundered above the chaos of battle, he was a prankster like her many other pukas, but they all loved Seri, and loved her tolerance of their goofy nature. Jeff kicked his current foe in the chest and then spun galloping to Seri like a bat out of hell.
Thea’s met Jeff before, so she won’t likely kill him on sight.
Seri thought to herself.
She lifted the wounded Sky Lord onto his back and he barely stood still long enough for her to accomplish this task. There is nothing as crazy as riding a puka! The poor Sky Lord would just have to deal with the many levels of puka crazy he was in for, this was his last-best hope.
“Go, go!”
Seri thundered, and she unsheathed her sword again, just in time to meet the rushing vampires that closed the gap from the south the fastest. Battle had only just started, time seemed to stretch on an endless march, every moment of breath in melee conflict was hard-won.
“It’s pointless my bride, the Sky Lord’s
army marches on Brooklyn as we speak, and the Ice Bitch marches on that harlot you’ve been screwing! All of New York will belong to me before the end of this night and you will finally fulfill your obligations to me!”
“Bix put a bloody arrow through his throat, or something!”
“A bit busy right now Princess!”
Bix dodged the approaching vampires and dropped her bow, reaching for the twin curved blades on her hips. She spun with a grace unparalleled by any lesser being. Bix was trained in the lost arts of the dark forest elves. She was a light fairy, but she had been raised in the deepest depths of the dark woods, and the dark elves. Not all dark fae are evil, it’s just a genetic typing.
She cleared her blades from her sheathes in a singing ring of metal. She expertly slashed out aiming her blades in her cross-draw, slashing bone-deep into the vampires. These vampires move fast, but they were being forced to confront three apex predators. Their blades cleaved into flesh, every death-stroke she managed, Seri prayed for the victim to be Dean, but the cockroach had scuttled back and was now pumping off necromantic magic like the Atlantic Ocean flowing around the three of them.
Shit, shit, shit!
“Bix interrupt his casting, he’s raising the dead! We’re going to be overrun in no time!”
Bix danced and slashed, thrust and parried. Her every move was lethal, and her every evasion was artistic and wondrous to behold.
“I’m too thick in battle Seri!”
Dammit, we could have used the puka as a distraction right about now!
Seri had selected her most powerful and crafty puka to join the elite team. Jeff might not look like much more than a meaty fairy blockhead, but he was in fact one of Bix’s best martial-arts students. He was a master of using every shape he changed into as a lethal weapon. His presence was sorely missed now.