by J. C. Staudt
The silver blade sings toward me.
I lift my arm and form a convex lens of pure magical energy across my forearm, a buckler the size of a dinner plate. Irys’s silver strikes the lens and glances away, the impact draining me like an electrical plug pulling too much current. My two measly pills are going to run out fast if I keep this up.
She swings again, but I bring my arm across for a backhanded block. Irys is no slouch when it comes to fisticuffs. She’s figured out my ruse and immediately resorts to countermeasures, taking a sideways step toward me and grabbing my opposite wrist with her free hand. She flings me across her planted leg, using my own bodyweight to send me crashing to the stage. She stabs the knife down, but not before I roll over and get my shield in the way.
The blade skids off and lodges in the floor. Irys is more than strong enough to yank it out as I tumble away and rise to my feet again. I extinguish the shield and spout a quick gush of flame. She ducks aside, clothes smoldering. I could hit her again, but fire magic is fuel-intensive, and I don’t want to blow my whole wad now. Who knows how the vampires would react if I roasted Ms. Montrovia like a marshmallow.
Irys screams in frustration and swings out for my throat. Somehow I manage to evade her, but the blade catches the Trillion’s metal chain on its way past. The red jewel drops down the front of my shirt to settle above my belt. A normal, everyday belt with no ability to make me look like someone else.
My shadow appears on the polished hardwood, a diffused reflection beneath the harsh theatrical lighting. I’m no longer bloodless.
Irys’s nostrils flare as she inhales my scent. “Human.” The word is an insult. “Wizard.” A curse.
“We’re working for the same chick,” I tell her. “Elona Anarian sent me. And Desdemona is right—you need to chill the fuck out. I don’t think any of us know the extent of the sidhe’s schemes. The only way to sort this out is to talk it over—”
Irys thrusts her knife.
I catch her by the wrist, expelling a blast of cold air to freeze her lower arm. Fire will kill most things, but ice is better for disarming them. I’m not going to kill Irys tonight. Not just because I’m on a theater stage under bright lights with potentially dozens of people watching me, but because she still knows plenty I don’t. The fact that she’s too psychotic for civil discourse is no reason to go frying her in front of her own brother and two of the most powerful vampire nobles in the city.
Ice crackles up her arm and spreads across her chest. Her fingers are stiff around the hilt of her blade, and when the tip touches my suit jacket it’s not moving fast enough to penetrate. “I know your scent,” she says, her voice hardening. “I’ve smelled you before. You’re one of them. One of Desdemona’s accomplices.”
“We’re not the ones you should be fighting.”
She tries to push the blade with her feet, but the ice is spreading to her waist. I stay with her, slipping and sliding on the bloody hardwood as her legs churn. The cold spreads up her neck and down her thighs. If I let go, the ice will recede. If I hold on and it reaches her head, she’ll die.
Des wrenches the silver knife from Irys’s hand. “End it, Cade. Kill her.”
Felix and the others rush forward, but Des brandishes the gleaming blade and they stop short. Irys’s strength weakens as her knees freeze over. I push her away and release the spell. She slides like a statue across the blood and begins to thaw.
“Lord Vosmik?” Sebastian asks, blinking. “You’re a human. And a spy for the fae.”
Des twirls the silver knife. “Stay away from him, Sebastian.”
Sebastian scans the near-empty auditorium. “This is a Pax. Violence of any kind is prohibited. You are in direct violation, Desdemona.”
“So is Felix’s psycho sister.”
Irys gives a hoarse growl as the ice recedes from her throat.
“My sister is deranged,” Felix admits. “She suffers from paranoia and delusion, a side-effect of her dual heritage. Her mother was an elf. Elves don’t possess the fortitude to be crossbred with other creatures. The vampirism has slowly driven her mad, and I fear it will only get worse over the years to come.”
“Someone better get her under control. She’s about to break free, and I don’t like the look on her face.”
Felix gives a dry chuckle. “One does not control Irys Montrovia.”
“She used to obey your father.”
“She sought his approval.”
“And she doesn’t seek yours?”
“Irys and I are not fond of one another, as is often true of human siblings. She bears a stronger will than anyone I know. It takes one to survive childhood as a dhampir. She was deprived of affection by a mother who died birthing her and a father who bore her little interest.”
The ice cracks from Irys’s knees, allowing her to move toward Des and I in a robotic sort of shuffle. Leftover blood from her gunshot wounds makes red trails through the melting ice.
I look at Des. “I’d say that’s our cue to leave.”
Moira steps forward. “Hold. I have a message for Elona Anarian. The covens will not be bound by the oath of one half-blood. Irys has earned her place among us, but our patience with her grows thin. Tell the sidhe that while she may have seduced a lowly dhampir of a traitorous bloodline, the pure blood of the nobles will never be enticed.”
“I’m not your enemy, Moira. I’m only working for the sidhe because she’s forcing me to.”
“Then you must not be a very good wizard.”
“Are you kidding me? I’m the best damn wizard in this city. Elona Anarian can suck a dick. She had to send her hags after me and threaten a friend of mine before I’d comply.”
“You are a rare commodity. It doesn’t surprise me the sidhe went to such trouble to procure your services. Should she release you from her employ, I may be inclined to offer you our protection in exchange for your aid. Tell me, wizard. What is your name?”
“Cade Varsellus Cadigan. And I’ll think about it.”
Irys grunts as she cracks the ice off her hips and shoulders. Des raises the knife, and we back away while Felix tries to talk his half-sister down from the ledge. We descend the stage stairs and make a break for it, down the aisle and through the double doors at the back of the auditorium.
“Did a vampire elder just offer me a job?” I ask as we exit the lobby into the warm night.
“I think so,” says Des, her gorgeous evening gown now a mess of torn, bloody fabric. “Meet me at HQ?”
“You should come to my place,” I suggest. “It’s closer. And if anyone follows us, better they find my apartment than the hospital.”
She shrugs. “Alright, your place. Lead the way.”
Sirens blare down the street toward the opera house as we pull away into the night. Des’s blue European two-door has the wheelbase of a matchbox car and an engine that sounds like an electric buzzer, but she keeps pace with the Maserati the whole way home. I guide her into the parking spot normally reserved for my poor prodigal hearse, and we take the elevator to the fifth floor, where I lock and double-bolt the door before removing my suit jacket and collapsing on the couch.
Irys sniffs the air. “It smells like dragon in here. Smelled like this last time I came over.”
“You mean the time you put on the tough-girl cop act and interrogated me like I was going to get arrested as a suspect in Lorne’s disappearance?”
“That wasn’t an act. It’s what I do for a living.”
“Yeah, but you were checking me out, too.”
She scoffs. “I have never checked you out, Prince Cadigan.”
“For the Guardians, I mean. Geez. Get your mind out of the gutter.”
A quick eye roll. “I see you got your kitchen cabinet fixed. Where’s your dragon?”
“Here,” says Ersatz, scuttling across the ceiling to stand upside-down beneath one of the recessed lights. “Standing sentinel over our dwelling, as I am wont to do.”
“Nice to finally meet you. Cade ha
s told us a lot about you.”
“The only thing you must know about me is that the forces of darkness don’t stand a chance when I’m around. They haunt my nightmares, yet I refuse to let them out.”
Des is understandably perplexed.
“The swamp hags got both of us,” I explain. “Ersatz usually sleeps twelve to fifteen hours a day, and he hasn’t gotten a wink in two days.”
“Sleep deprivation will do a number on you,” says Des. “I hope you got enough information at the Pax to satisfy Elona.”
“If she doesn’t put an end to this dream-slavery soon I’m going to go as apeshit as that crazy dhampir back there. No offense.”
“Why would I be offended?”
“No reason. Elona better not press her luck, or I’ll give some swamp hags a lesson in fire.”
Des’s phone goes off. She looks. “It’s a text from Ryovan. He says he wants me to video call him ASAP. You mind?”
“Go right ahead.”
Ryovan’s face pops up on the screen, illuminated by the phone’s camera light. He’s somewhere dark, and I can hear water swishing as he walks with labored steps. “Hey, Des. You’re done a little earlier than I expected. How was the Pax?”
“Eventful.”
Ryovan frowns. “Was the prince there?”
“Say hello, your highness.” She angles the phone toward me.
“Hey, Ryovan.” I give him a wave.
“Hey, Cade. You look tired. No worse for the wear, though, I hope.”
“Couldn’t be worse if I tried. Des got cut up, but she’s healing fine.”
“Cut up? By whom?”
There’s a splash on Ryovan’s end.
“What’s going on over there?” Des asks. “Where are you?”
“Doing a little late-night reconnaissance. Couldn’t sleep. Mazriel was feeling uneasy. Said she was picking up bad juju from down here in the train tunnels. I figured I’d come back for a look. Ease both our minds.”
“You’re at Michigan Central Station? By yourself?”
“I tried getting Githryx and Fremantle to come with me. They’re the least susceptible to the venom. Plus they were the only ones awake. Neither one wants to leave the hospital. Fremantle has been by Baz’s side twenty-four seven.”
“How’s Baz doing?” I ask.
“Not well. He’s gotten worse since this evening.”
“Wow.” The news makes me feel horrible. Not that I haven’t lamented every second since my fateful charge which started the battle with the flickerfrogs. But if something happens to Baz, I’ll hold myself responsible.
“Janice just put him on some stronger meds, so we’re crossing our fingers it helps.”
“I hope it does.”
“So guess what I found down here?” Ryovan flips the camera around so it’s facing the two-foot-deep water in which he’s wading. Something moves beneath the rippling surface. Something big, nearly a foot long or more. A fish. Not a fish.
“Is that a tadpole?” Des asks before I can spit out the words.
“Their bodies are the size of footballs,” Ryovan says. “There are dozens of them down here.”
“Does that mean what I think it means?” she asks.
“Houston, we’ve got issues.”
“A problem,” says Des.
“Huh?”
“Houston, we’ve got a problem. That’s how the saying goes.”
“What was that?”
“Never mind. You’re breaking up.”
“Flickerfrog tadpoles,” says Ryovan. “They’re flickerfrog tadpoles.”
“Yeah, we heard you.”
“One of the females must’ve been carrying fertilized eggs when she crossed over. Or else they became fertilized after she died. Maybe the frogs’ secretions carry some kind of biological signal. Gods, it reeks down here. All sorts of creatures came down here looking for a feast, only to be finished off by the poison. It’s a deathtrap.”
He turns the phone to give us a brief view of one of the flickerfrogs’ hulking corpses, which is surrounded by a layer of stagnant film on the surface of the water. Flies stick to its oozing hide, while the legs of a full-grown raccoon stick out from the frog’s eye socket in rigor-mortised tension. The sight makes me gag. Des grunts and looks away.
“Sorry,” Ryovan says. “Pretty gross, right?”
“That is just… filthy.”
“These frogs crossed over at the perfect time of year. Their offspring will grow fast, and before summer’s done they’ll go looking for food. Maybe find a stream nearby and bully their way into the ecosystem.”
“What do we do?”
“I don’t know that there’s much we can do. This place is huge. I could spend all week exterminating them and barely make a dent. No doubt they’ve found their way into every pipe and crevice.”
“So we just allow a flickerfrog infestation to occur?” says Des.
“We choose our battles.”
“I’d rather battle a swimming football now than a giant carnivorous teleporting frog monster later,” she says.
I clear my throat. “I have a suggestion. When I lived out in the suburbs as a kid, there was this man-made pond by my house. Every twenty years or so, they have to dredge the bottom of these things to remove sediment and runoff. So I remember one time I went down there and watched these guys catching all the fish so they could relocate them while they drained the pond. They were using one of those electrical shock machines. I don’t know what they’re called. They pulse the water, and it stuns all the fish, and they float to the top. Then all you gotta do is scoop them up with a net.”
Ryovan thinks. “That’s actually a brilliant idea. I’ll see if Fremantle and Githryx will help me tomorrow evening after work, assuming we can find one of those shocking machines somewhere.”
“If Baz were feeling well enough, I’ll bet you he could tinker around and rig you up something.”
“We’ll see. Des, who cut you?”
“Irys. I’m hiding out at Cade’s—Arden’s—for the night. Things got sticky, and we didn’t want to lead anyone back to HQ.”
“I appreciate that. What happened?”
We tell him about Irys’s attack and her pact with the sidhe.
Ryovan purses his lips. “An alliance between Irys Montrovia and Elona Anarian sounds dangerous. And very bad for us.”
“It explains who was preventing Mazriel from scrying on Irys,” Des points out.
“Indeed,” says Ryovan. “We also know why Irys is attacking the portals, but not how she’s finding them. Could she be using fae magic?”
I shake my head. “The fae are experts at wards of imprisonment, but they’re not particularly well-versed in the divination department. Irys must be working with more than just the sidhe.”
“Will you be meeting with her soon, your highness?”
“I was thinking I’d go tonight.”
“Try to smooth things over as best you can.”
“I will.”
Des sighs, shakes her head. “How do we defeat an enemy backed by the Fae Council?”
Ryovan frowns. “I don’t believe we can.”
Chapter 19
“So we’ve lost, then. There’s nothing we can do.”
“There’s one thing his highness needs to do. Go to Gryphon Enterprises and get himself freed from this nightmare curse. Then we’ll talk about Irys and the sidhe.”
“I don’t understand how you can be so calm about this,” says Des.
“We’ll get nowhere worrying about things beyond our control.”
“If we don’t stop Irys, we’re done. The Guardians of the Veil are over. And we can’t beat her while the sidhe is behind her.”
“We may never win, but we can always fight. I’ll head back to base and get some sleep. Round up the troops for tomorrow. Keep me apprised on your meeting with the sidhe.”
“Be safe, Ryovan,” Des tells him.
“Sleep well.” He blows her a kiss and hangs up.
I cut the dhampir a look. “My, my. What was that about?”
“Shut up. Don’t want to talk about it.”
Then it dawns on me. “Holy crap. You and Ryovan are an item, aren’t you? You’ve been keeping it under wraps because you’re scared of how Shenn will react.”
“Curse you and your wizardly intuition.”
“It does come in handy sometimes. When it isn’t tweaking out like an addict in withdrawal.”
“What does your intuition tell you about Irys? Is there a way out of this?”
“Bitch is crazy. When your own brother admits you’re not right in the head, you’ve got problems. And no. Short of talking the sidhe out of a pact she and her kindred regard as unbreakable, there’s no way out of this.”
“You have to talk to her, then.”
“Planning on it. Let me change clothes and I’ll bring her the Trill—”
I untuck my shirt tails, expecting the Trillion of the Bloodless to be there. Only it isn’t. I give my belt a tug. Shake out my pant legs. The thin metal chain on which the Trillion once hung slithers to the floor. Des and I share a look.
“I’ll be right back.”
I dart down the hallway, take the elevator to the parking garage, and check the Maserati’s seats, floors, and center console thoroughly. No Trillion. I scan the floors as I make my way back to the apartment, but I find nothing.
“Any sign of it?” Des asks when I come inside.
I plop down on the couch, leaning my head into my hands.
“When was the last time you remember having it?”
“On stage at the opera house. I have no idea where I dropped it. Could be anywhere.”
“You could go back for it,” Ersatz suggests from his perch on the ceiling.
“With Irys and a building full of vampires waiting? No thanks.”
“Will Elona remove the curse if you don’t return the jewel?” Des asks.
“I’m gonna go out on a limb and guess that’s a gigantic hell no.”
“It’s perfect,” Ersatz declares. “Perfect, I tell you.”