by Jocelyn Fox
When they reached the trailer, Jess motioned for Tess to wait outside as he slid with practiced ease through the front door, a dagger held ready in his hand. After a moment during which Tess peered miserably into the gray, waterlogged landscape and jumped at a crack of thunder, Jess reappeared and motioned her inside. He offered her his hand when she slipped on the first step, and she took it wearily, sodden and tired. At least she had a dry set of clothes in her pack, she thought as she stood dripping in the dreary interior of the trailer.
“Definitely been empty for a bit, used by squatters here and there,” said Jess, surveying the dim dwelling. “But safe enough, and dry.”
Tess nodded. Now that her relief from being out of the storm had faded somewhat, she noticed the overwhelmingly musty odor in the trailer. Everything seemed damp from the humidity, water stains darkened patches of the faded floral wallpaper, and mold speckled the tarnished sink. A small table with one chair stood to the side of the kitchenette.
“Tess-mortal, you are soaked through!” said Farin, swooping down from the ceiling. Her bright aura caused a cockroach to scuttle for darker shadows. “You should change into dry clothes,” the fierce little scout added solicitously. “I will make sure that none of the men see you.”
Tess chuckled. “I’m sure you’ll guard my virtue zealously, Farin.”
“Only until we find Luca again,” Farin replied with a wicked giggle. At that, Tess could only shake her head as she gingerly made her way into the bedroom of the trailer. Farin’s aura provided the only light. Tess still felt so sick that the thought of something even as simple as a taebramh light, conjured without conscious command in Faeortalam, seemed impossible. Farin seemed to understand her predicament and focused more on providing Tess with ambient light than guarding the doorway.
Tess almost placed her pack on the lumpy bed, but then thought better of it. The floor seemed no better, but then she spotted a folding chair in the corner of the room. She set her pack on it and peeled off her wet clothes, hanging them over the back of the chair for lack of a better alternative. As she pulled on her dry shirt and trousers, she heard the door of the trailer open again. Calliea’s voice traveled through the thin walls.
“This is the changing room, eh?” the soaked Valkyrie commander commented a moment later, her grin white in the shadows as she took in the shabby bedroom.
“Something like it,” replied Tess with an attempt at a smile.
“It’s enough to get us out of the storm,” said Calliea. “I’d say I’ve slept in worse, but I haven’t.” She chuckled. “Although it’s better than draping our cloaks over a tree branch and calling it a tent.”
“True.” Tess pulled her own cloak out of her pack and checked to ensure that her books were still dry in their oilskin wrapping. She glanced at the concealment rune on her arm; it had stood up to the rain admirably.
“Are you still feeling sick?” Calliea asked, voice muffled as she pulled her shirt over her head. Tess glimpsed the knotted scar on Calliea’s side from a poisoned wound taken at Brightvale. She averted her eyes, despite the fact that Calliea was her friend and the Vyldgard did not offend easily.
“Yes,” she answered honestly. “And it’s not just from coming through the Gate. Every time the Sword stirs, I feel like I’m going to throw up.”
Calliea made a face in the flickering light of Farin’s aura. “That sounds entirely unpleasant. Perhaps it will fade.”
“I certainly hope so,” agreed Tess. She glanced again at the lumpy bed, the frame broken and the mattress uneven. It looked more appealing the longer she stayed on her feet. The door to the trailer banged on its hinges. Wind howled around the dilapidated structure and rain pelted the dirty windows so hard it sounded as though it was hailing, making Tess glad that Molly and Ramel had made it to shelter. Thunder rolled deafeningly around them.
“Certainly a storm,” murmured Calliea. She dug in her pack for a moment and produced a little lantern, lighting it with an old-fashioned wooden match. After setting it on the dusty bedside table, she grinned at Tess. “Don’t look so surprised. We prepared for a few different scenarios.”
“So this is the girls’ room,” said Molly brightly from the doorway, her manic delight unhampered by her drenched clothes and soaked hair.
“Looks like it,” replied Calliea coolly, surveying Molly.
Tess frowned as she watched Molly. Her last encounter with her old friend at the practice grounds on the journey through the Deadlands had been serious, even somber, where Molly had commented on feeling like a half-mortal castaway, her words accompanied by an enigmatic smile. But this new Molly with a feverish light in her eyes and a too bright grin on her face had eclipsed the Molly in Tess’s memory.
The little lantern gave off a flickering golden light. Tess couldn’t decide if the light made the room look better or worse. Her bones ached with a strange weariness – it was not the absence of the Sword’s power, or the expenditure of it, as she’d felt after Brightvale and the Dark Keep. Somehow she felt simultaneously wrung out by the violent journey through the Gate and full from an uncomfortable feeling of expansion. Recognition clicked into place. That was it – that was why she felt sick. The Sword’s power pressed into her stomach, venturing out past its usual bounds in her chest. She swallowed and wondered if it would go away.
The room stank suddenly of wet dog. Kianryk prowled along the shadowy walls. His blue eyes glowed pale in the lantern light. Tess watched the big wolf move, frowning. The scarlet collar that Vell had fastened around his great neck gleamed, making the dinginess of the room all the more apparent. After completing his inspection, Kianryk ghosted away.
“He looks better already.” Calliea gave voice to Tess’s thought.
Tess nodded. “I know I should feel relieved, but…” She trailed off and shrugged, wishing suddenly that Liam had accompanied her through the portal. They’d been able to spend more time together in the White City than they’d managed since before Liam completed training and Tess went off to college. Now she felt his absence more keenly than ever.
Farin dipped through the doorway for a moment and then returned, addressing the three women. “The men wish to know if you are all dressed.”
Molly finished pulling on her shirt and tossed her wet hair over one shoulder. Calliea observed her with a neutral expression and then nodded to Farin. Jess, Niall and Ramel entered the room, Ramel staying conspicuously close to the door. He remained in his soaked clothing and dark breastplate, coppery hair plastered wetly to his head. Tess tried not to let her gaze linger on her onetime sword teacher – he had always been fastidious in his appearance, to the point of cheerful vanity. What was wrong with the two emissaries from the Unseelie Court? She resolved to ask Calliea her opinion if they found a moment alone.
The thunderstorm raged in spectacular fashion. The wind rocked the trailer slightly during particularly violent gusts, and Tess heard a few leaks dripping through the ceiling as the rain pounded down on the roof.
“Lady Bearer,” said Niall, “it seems as though we will be here a few hours at least. If the storm lasts until sundown, I propose that we stay the night.”
“Time is of the essence, is it not?” Molly asked in her bright, hard voice. “Why don’t we travel at night?”
“Because we are in unfamiliar territory. It would give the bone sorcerer an advantage if we were to meet in terrain that he already knows,” Niall replied smoothly.
Molly grinned. “The mighty Seelie Vaelanseld, afraid of the dark?”
Calliea rested her hand on her whip, though Niall merely smiled.
“We do not befriend the darkness, but we do not cower from it,” he said. Tess couldn’t piece together what he meant, exactly, but it was enough to make Molly’s grin fade. Ramel remained strangely silent.
“I agree with the plan to stay here,” Jess said. “It would do us all good to get some rest while we can, and I wouldn’t travel in a storm like this unless I had to.”
“We would n
ot be able to scout in such conditions,” Farin contributed.
“I don’t like the idea of hunting this mage blind,” said Calliea finally.
Tess nodded. “Then we’ll wait out the storm here.” She looked meaningfully at each member of her expedition. “I know we might not all agree with certain aspects of this journey, but let me make one thing clear: fighting with each other will only make this entire experience more difficult.” The Caedbranr’s power shifted and she had to pause, swallowing hard. “I’m not going to take the bone sorcerer lightly. Our first priority is to find our three fighters. They’re easy targets and from what I’ve been told, he will most likely try to glean power from them.”
“Opening the Gate might have attracted his attention,” said Niall.
“It’s a possibility,” allowed Tess. “In that case, we’d be leading him to the other three, but I still think we’d all be stronger together.”
“We are stronger together,” said Molly. “The others will only weaken us, especially if they are wounded.”
“Mind your tongue,” said Calliea. “If you’re suggesting that we leave our fellow warriors to their fate rather than rescue them, you’d better sleep with one eye open.” Her voice trailed into a growl.
“Where is your sense of loyalty?” Niall said to both Ramel and Molly in a low voice.
“I have none,” Molly replied, a fierce light in her eyes. “I am a child of two worlds and I belong to neither. No one has any loyalty to me, so why should I return the favor?” She smiled chillingly as she looked directly at Tess.
“We’ll stay here for the duration of the storm and possibly the night, and we will scry for both our fighters and the bone sorcerer in the morning,” Tess said firmly. She knew Niall had some skill at scrying – nearly all the older Sidhe had honed three or four useful skills in addition to the basics of warfare, and Tess came to understand that the Sidhe Queens did not choose their Three out of caprice or emotion. They all had very concrete talents that each Queen used to her advantage.
Niall nodded gracefully in acknowledgement. “I will take first watch.”
“I’ll take second,” said Jess.
“Third,” said Calliea. She looked at Molly and Ramel with hard eyes. “We’ll let you know if we need you on the watch. You should probably sleep in another room.”
Tess almost intervened, but her skin still crawled from Molly’s hostile glare. She beckoned to the observing Glasidhe after the two Unseelie had silently left the room. They hovered about her like a trinity of miniature stars. “Keep a discreet eye on them, please,” she said quietly. Farin bared her sharp little teeth, Forin saluted and Haze bowed. Niall left the room to begin his watch by the front door of the trailer, leaving Tess with Jess and Calliea. She sighed and rubbed a hand over her face. This was certainly not the start to this venture that she’d hoped for. Molly seemed determined to set the Unseelie against both the Seelie and Vyldgard. No, not merely set them against each other – put them at each other’s throats. Why had Mab sent Molly to accompany Ramel in the first place? Merely to stir up trouble for the Bearer?
“Here.” Calliea spread her cloak over the lumpy bed. “You should get some rest.”
Tess eyed the decrepit, uneven bed suspiciously. “On the one hand, that journey through the Gate was rough. On the other hand, I really don’t want to get lice or fleas.”
Calliea chuckled. “There are runes for that.”
“For warding them off or getting rid of them once I get them?” Tess raised an eyebrow.
“To make sure you don’t get them in the first place. At least not while you’re sleeping on this cloak.”
“Aren’t you tired?” Tess pulled the strap of the Sword over her head, leaning it against the chair. She thought better of it and laid the battered sheath on the bed.
“Going through the Gate affects us less when we’re prepared,” Calliea replied with a shrug.
Jess nudged the door of the bedroom shut. “I’m feeling pretty rough, too. Think I’ll join you in that nap.” He settled down with his back against the door, pulling his ubiquitous tan ball cap down over his face despite the fact that it was wet.
Calliea grinned. “See? You have permission. The tough old salt is taking a nap, too.”
Tess shook her head with a smile at Calliea’s slang. “You’ve been hanging around Liam and the others for too long.” She slid onto the bed, keeping her boots on and daggers in place, careful to lie only on the portion of the bed covered by Calliea’s cloak. She pulled her own cloak over herself as a blanket. Calliea settled cross-legged against the wall by the bed, producing her own small book from her pack. Tess slipped her hand into her belt pouch as she listened to the storm lashing the trailer mercilessly. The river stone imprisoning a piece of Malravenar’s spirit felt cool to her touch, and beside it was the silken pouch with the components to Summon the Gate for their return to the Fae world. She tied the pouch shut again and closed her eyes, waiting to slide into sleep.
“Do you trust her?” Calliea’s quiet question barely reached Tess’s ears.
“I don’t know,” Tess replied in a voice barely louder than a whisper. She sighed. Between the storm, her sickness and the strange behavior of the Unseelie portion of her company, their expedition into the mortal world had certainly not begun on a promising note. But if she could travel across Faeortalam with a few ulfdrengr, an Unseelie Knight defying his Queen, and an inexperienced young navigator, she could find the bone sorcerer in the mortal world and destroy him. One hand reached out and rested on the hilt of the Sword. It warmed beneath her skin, a physical token of its alertness that she’d never felt in Faeortalam. It comforted her. As she slipped into a weary sleep, she finally relaxed enough to feel the tiny thrill of hope that had been hiding behind all her anxiety and adrenaline. Luca was alive, and she would find him. No matter who she had to strong-arm – or destroy – along the way.
Chapter 20
“There’ll probably be a storm this afternoon,” said Vivian as they trudged through the greenery behind the house. The air hung heavy and humid around them, the sun beating down mercilessly overhead. All of them, even Merrick, were already drenched in varying levels of sweat, though the Vyldgard navigator retained his pale complexion and didn’t seem to be bothered much by the heat. Duke almost cheerfully resigned himself to sweating through his t-shirts. “Lets me know I’m really back in the South,” he drawled with a smile. Ross couldn’t help but smile at him as she pulled her ponytail out of the back of her ball cap.
They reached the shed at the edge of the property. Ross opened the door of the shed and began to hand out the heavy, old-fashioned gardening tools that had probably been in the shed for half a century or more. Despite their age, they were well maintained. Merrick took a step back and shook his head when Ross held out a shovel to him. She glanced down at the heavy head of the shovel and realized that it probably contained some amount of iron. Luca took it without a second glance.
“My granddad used to have a big vegetable garden back here,” said Vivian as she accepted a trowel. “Even when he got older, he still grew Creole tomatoes. Have to grow them by the river for them to really be true Creole tomatoes.” A fond smile appeared on her lips. “They even have a Creole tomato festival in the city.”
“They have a festival for everything down here,” said Ross with an answering smile.
“Any excuse for a party,” agreed Vivian.
Ross disappeared again into the shed and emerged with an armful of tall cans with colorful lids. She adjusted her grip on the cans of spray paint and looked at Merrick. “Does it matter what color?”
Merrick shook his head. “No, not for the initial marking. I’ll consecrate it later, after we’re done crafting the trap.”
“Okay.” Ross looked at Vivian. “Are the extra stones from paving the front path in here?”
“No, I gave them to one of the neighbors down the road.” Vivian shrugged. “Let’s pull up some of the border stones from the gard
en. They can always be replaced.”
“We’ll get on that, if you two want to help Merrick with the initial drawing,” said Duke, nodding at Luca. The ulfdrengr still looked terrible, but he at least stood steadily in the punishing midday heat. “How many you need?”
“Four,” said Merrick. Then he quickly held up a hand, thinking. “Make it eight. Cardinal and ordinal points both.”
“Points of the compass,” said Vivian to Ross.
Ross looked at her friend in consideration. “You’re picking all this up faster than I am.”
“I read a lot,” replied Vivian with a grin. “As opposed to lifting heavy weights and growling at everyone.”
“I only growl at some people,” Ross clarified, leaning on her shovel. “And they usually deserve it.”
Vivian smiled. They watched as Luca and Duke decided which stones would be easiest to extract from the raised garden beds around the house, heading over toward their chosen quarry with shovels over their shoulders.
“Just a moment,” Merrick said. “I’ll need to decide on the best placement.”
“No rush,” Vivian said easily. She tossed her trowel next to the cans of spray paint and slid into the narrow shadow at the side of the shed, fanning herself. She wore a floppy-brimmed canvas hat to protect her pale skin in the vicious sun. “Lord, it’s hotter than the hinges on the gates of hell today.”
Ross laughed aloud. “I’ll have to remember that one.”
“Yeah, you could use it at the fire station! Speaking of the fire station, how’d the interview go?” Vivian raised her eyebrows.
“Considering the fact that I got a call from Noah five minutes before I walked into the chief’s office…I think it went pretty well.” Ross made a face. “I should probably give them a call today to let them know that my phone’s broken.”