Nine by Night: A Multi-Author Urban Fantasy Bundle of Kickass Heroines, Adventure, & Magic

by SM Reine

  It is a story to him now, and childish. In any case, his own people will not come for him now. Not anymore. Perhaps not even before he became a murderer.

  This will all end soon. He knows enough to allow it to happen. He sits, leaning on a stone wall. His hands crumple together in his lap, his wrists encased in iron chains. His face is covered in bruises. His skin twitches when a fly alights on a cut, but he does not brush it away.

  It happens again. And again.

  Then...a clanking emerges from outside.

  The door opens and Revik squints as two men enter. Surprise touches his light; his internal clock tells him it is too soon. But these are not priest and guard. The first man is of medium build and wears expensive clothes. Where his face should sit, I see only a blur, a movie screen on which several movies are being projected at once.

  The second man I know from Golden Gate Park.

  Like Revik, Terian does not appear to have aged. He wears the black uniform of the Gestapo. On him, it looks like a party costume.

  “Rolf Schenck?” the man who is not Terian says.

  Revik looks the two men over. He doesn’t know either of them.

  “I've answered all of your...questions,” he says. “Or would you like to hit me some more?” He raises his bound hands. “Maybe you could take these off? I could use the exercise.”

  Terian laughs, nudging the man with no face.

  “I'll hit him, sir,” he says. “He seems to want it so badly.”

  “No.” The new man’s focus stays on Revik. “No. I think we could find better ways to spend our time together. Perhaps, as Terian here believes, we could be frank with one another, yes?”

  Revik gives Terian a dismissive look, looking at the man with no face.

  “Does he make you feel safe, worm?” he says only.

  The faceless man smiles through his shifting countenance.

  “You are operating under a misconception, Rolf. I do not speak for the Reich, nor for any of the human governments. I would like to offer you a job. One you’ll find interesting, I think, even apart from your current lack of options.”

  Revik scans the human in the expensive clothes. He cannot read this faceless man. He assumes the seer with him shields them both.

  He lets his hands fall to his lap, shrugs.

  “I'll be otherwise engaged. Or hadn't they told you they plan to cut off my head?”

  Terian laughs, and Revik’s eyes flicker back to his.

  “I told you, sir.” Terian smiles, looking at Revik like he’s his favorite new toy. “He will be well worth our time...once we’ve honed the snarl a bit.”

  The faceless man acts like he doesn’t hear. “I think we can help you with your little problem, Rolf,” he says. “Or should I just call you Revik? Living amongst us hasn't made you forget yourself entirely, I hope?”

  Revik’s eyes swivel to Terian, this time in utter disbelief.

  “Yes,” the faceless man says. “I know who you are. Not only Rolf Schenck, German patriot, but Dehgoies Revik, seer of clan Arenthis.”

  Revik continues to look only at Terian. He speaks in that other language next, the one with the clicks and rolling purrs.

  Only this time, I understand him.

  “What game is this?” Revik says to the other seer. “You gave our clan keys to a human? The elders will hang you for this...”

  It is the faceless human who answers him though, using the same language.

  “Rules were broken, it is true,” he says, gesturing smoothly, seer-like. Revik follows the motion with his eyes, his expression stunned. “But you can be selective with rules as well, Rolf. Such as the one against choosing a mate from among the females of my kind.”

  He clucks his tongue ruefully.

  “...For these things tend to happen with humans, do they not? Sadly, my kind does not have the same respect for loyalty. Nor do most in my race understand the true repercussions of commitment...” His hands open as if in prayer.

  I see a ring on his finger, what looks like an Iron Cross.

  “She was lovely, cousin,” he adds. “I am sorry you lost her to such a vile representative of my species. Truly.”

  Revik’s eyes change. For the first time, they belong to the Revik I know. The anger and youth is leached out of them.

  “What do you want?” he says.

  I glance at Terian, who is smiling. His gaze is predatory too, like he sees that thing in Revik, and wants it.

  “My name is Galaith,” the faceless man says. “Perhaps you have heard it?”

  There is a silence. Then Revik snorts a short laugh.

  “You are the scourge of the seer world?” he says. “The one who downed Syrimne, single-handed? You are lying...”

  Terian takes a step closer, his humor less visible now.

  Galaith holds up a hand to each of them, like a teacher breaking up a fight at school.

  “Who I was is perhaps less important than who I have become,” he says diplomatically. He asks Revik, “Why have you not simply walked out of this cell, cousin? If you wanted out, they could not hold you.”

  Revik lets his shoulders unclench. Still eyeing Terian, he shrugs, folding his arms tighter.

  “Perhaps I deserve to die,” he says.

  Galaith nods. “Are you so tired of this life then?”

  Revik stares at Terian. “Perhaps.”

  The faceless man glances at Terian, too. They exchange a subtle smile, then Galaith’s voice warms.

  “I understand, cousin. More than you know. But, you see, there are many like you and I, Rolf. Tired of senseless death and war. Tired of the world being led by liars and old men, dreamers and fanatics. Those who feel the Codes, laws, bibles and prejudices of both species no longer represent the current realities of either. We would like to see these Codes...” He smiles. “...Modernized, as it were.”

  Revik closes his eyes, leaning his head on stone. “Approach my brother, Whelen.”

  “You have not yet heard my proposal—”

  “—And yet I am not a fool,” Revik cuts in, opening his eyes again. “Whatever game you and your pet Sark are playing, it is my family name you want. You picked the wrong son. Nothing I said would ever be heard in the Pamir, least of all by my own family. And I have had my fill of humans and your...‘modernization.’”

  The faceless man holds up a hand, another gesture of supplication.

  “I know your life has been hard, Revik. I know of the death of your parents. I know too that you were adopted by a family that did not want you.” His tone grows cautious.

  “...I also know of your current problems, as I have said. But women die in childbirth, cousin. Even among your kind. It is pointless to throw away such a promising, young life for what is a relatively natural event. She was not seer. This suicide of yours cannot be inevitable.”

  He pauses, watching Revik’s face.

  “Was the child Blauvelt's? Or another’s?”

  Revik doesn’t answer at first. He gives a short laugh.

  “You really want me to kill you. Perhaps I should oblige this wish of yours.”

  Galaith holds up his hand again. “You are wrong about me. My regret for your misfortune is sincere, cousin.” He pauses, still watching Revik’s face. “And I have already spoken with your blood cousin, Whelen,” he adds. “I told him where you are, too. I told him of your predicament. Your family understands more than you believe, despite your decision to distance yourself, to live among my people and participate in this heinous war on her behalf.”

  “It was not for her,” Revik said.

  “It was for her, brother. You felt obligated—”

  “I meant, it was not her fault.” Revik is once more staring at the shadow-darkened corners of the cell. “Please go.”

  “Revik, your blood cousin, Whelen, doesn’t interest me.” Galaith’s words contain a gentle pull. “We have no need of family names. That clan nonsense is of the past. I want your talent, Revik. I believe you will prove to be our most
valuable asset yet.”

  Terian leans closer. He holds up two fingers in a backwards V, wiggling them at Revik.

  “...Second-most valuable,” he says, winking.

  Galaith chuckles, patting Terian on the back with one hand. “Yes,” he says. “It was Terian here who petitioned hardest for your recruitment, Rolf. Our little Terian is most anxious to see what you can do...he may have created a bit of a reputation for you in advance, I’m afraid. One you may have to defend in not too long a time.”

  His smile grows more visible as he discerns Revik’s involuntary reaction to his words.

  “...I, too, am anxious to witness these talents, cousin,” he says. “Indeed I am. Most anxious.”

  A flush of warmth grows in some part of Revik that doesn’t need to feel much else.

  He is still thinking, turning over this spark in his mind, when the walls around me fall once more into black.

  I choke...choked...am choking...caught inside a fisted clutch of light, an egg-shaped pocket that holds me unflinchingly in place. Inside that heated glow, I birth. The turning planet brings stars past me in a pale swath, sky broken by sharp eyes and lightning flashes, snaking charges of gold and orange and crimson, the late side of the setting sun.

  The pain worsens, a spike that arcs, a taste before it keens steeply up, inexorable, becoming gradually more unbearable, until I am sure my insides will be ripped out, torn into so many pieces there is nothing left.

  Beyond where I lay, a golden ocean beckons. It is familiar.

  He is there too.

  I’m sorry, he says. It’s not why I asked for you. I’m sorry, Allie—

  Shhh. My voice is steady, somehow apart from the lights clashing, the ghosts winging over both of our heads. Revik, it's all right.

  Don't leave me, Allie. Don't leave me alone with this...

  The pain worsens again, makes it hard to see.

  Still, the words come easily, without thought or regret.

  I won't, I tell him. I never will.

  There is a question in this...one that shocks his heart.

  Before I’ve understood either the question or the possible answers, he’s agreed. A surrender lives in that agreement, what is almost shame. He clasps my fingers, and I see tears in his eyes. They bewilder me, touch me somehow through the pain and he pulls me closer until...

  He kisses me. It is a brief kiss. Clumsy, awkward, almost tender...meaning lives there, more meaning than I can comprehend. I feel him agree again.

  It feels final that time...like a promise.

  A vow, maybe.

  Like an ending and a beginning, all at once.

  ...and then, the night sky disappears.

  Above us, light weaves into complicated patterns, in and out like a shuttlecock between silk threads. I have a fleeting impression of time removed. The weaving of the threads grows more and more complicated, more subtle, more intensely beautiful and intimate and connected to my heart. I watch a painting form in the vastness of that sky, a painting of diamond light, in a pattern too breathtaking for words. My struggle stops, even as the pain I felt before melts into warm breath, a feeling of ending that somehow...doesn’t...can’t.

  I know, somehow.

  I feel it in him, too, a surge of familiar.

  The feeling is so dense, I can’t see past it. A timelessness lives in that sense of the familiar, something I can’t explain to myself, something I understand without words, without really understanding it at all.

  Something is...different.

  I don’t know it yet, but it will never be the same again.

  12

  CHANGE

  I sat in a window, balanced toe to heel on the white painted wooden sill.

  My butt had started to numb in the twenty or so minutes since I first fixed my perch, but I liked being balanced on the narrow ledge as I looked out the rain-splattered window. Through the glass lived a world of gray, with charcoal streets and sad-looking trees breaking up long swaths of sidewalk.

  A man walked by in a tarp of a raincoat, slowly pushing a shopping cart filled with cans and covered with a blue tarp. He glanced up at the window.

  I held my breath, frozen as he stared at me, but his face looked resigned, his eyes blurred by rain. Gripping the cart’s handlebars, he resumed pushing it down the street, his expression unchanging.

  A long, slow, questioning tug slid through my belly.

  He was looking for me...it grew urgent briefly. Then it faded back, pulled somewhere else.

  I glanced over at the bed, without turning my head.

  Above him hung the tapestry where an angry-faced blue god rode a lion, tongues of flame circling his head in a bright orange and red aura. My eyes shifted to tapestry nearer to me, the one depicting a gold buddha with multiple faces that formed a high cone stretching above his neck. Crowning the stack of extra heads hung a delicate, androgynous face exuding golden light. I found myself looking at that face a lot this morning.

  Revik moved then, and my eyes drifted reluctantly down.

  He slept on his back, arms and legs sprawled, his hands and fingers open. I studied the softness of his expression and felt the pulling return, urgent that time, enough to bring the nausea back in a warm flood.

  I’d woken to the feeling, and him wrapped around me, half crushing me with his arms and body in sleep. I’d been careful of his hurt shoulder without thinking about it much, but I’d been wrapped around him just as tightly. My face had rested in the hollow of his neck, one of my legs curled around and between his.

  I’d been pulling on him unconsciously, as much as he had been me.

  It had felt completely natural that his fingers were tangled in my hair, that he’d tugged me closer with that same hand, his other arm wrapped around my back, his mouth brushing my temple in sleep. When I’d stroked his bare arm and chest without thinking, caressing his fingers, he’d let out a low sound, enough to wake me for real...and get me swiftly out of his bed once I realized other parts of him were awake ahead of his mind.

  Since then, he’d been looking for me with his light. It wasn’t enough to wake him, just enough to make me sick.

  I still hadn’t left.

  I couldn’t decide why, but my reasons felt irrational, even to me. I was starving. I needed a shower like I’d never needed one before...I smelled like filthy lake water and my hair had the consistency of matted straw. I wanted clean clothes. I also could be talking to the other seers, the friendlier ones, anyway, and trying to find out more about my mom, Jon and Cass.

  Instead I was here, watching him sleep...like some kind of stalker.

  The truth was, I couldn’t seem to make myself want to leave, even after I had to go to the bathroom.

  Feeling eyes on me, I turned...and nearly fell off my window perch.

  Ullysa smiled at me from the doorway, looking like an old movie still with her hair piled on her head and a powder-blue gown clinging to her hips. Turning away from me, she scrutinized Revik clinically.

  Without thinking about why, I hopped the rest of the way off the sill and crossed the room, drawing the woman’s eyes back to me.

  Ullysa frowned, exuding a faint puzzlement.

  That puzzlement didn’t dissipate as she turned to study my light with the same narrow-eyed stare she’d trained on Revik.

  “What?” I said quietly when I reached her.

  Ullysa shook her head. Then her face broke into a smile of such sincerity that I was taken aback.

  “He is better,” she said, clasping my arm with warm fingers. “I am relieved. You did very well with him.”

  I blinked into the woman’s violet eyes. “Yeah,” I said. “Good. Look, is there any way I could borrow some clothes? I’m starving too, and a shower—”

  “Yes! Of course!” Ullysa squeezed my arm tighter, exuding more warmth. “You may have whatever you wish while you are here, Bridge Alyson! Anything at all!”

  “Great.” I smiled back, a little unnerved by her enthusiasm. “I’ll pay yo
u back, once I—”

  “No.” The seer waved this off, making a sharp line in the air with her fingers. “There is no need for that...the honor is ours. And Revi' is an old friend.”

  My eyes shifted involuntarily to the bed.

  I found myself remembering some key details from the night before, things that had somehow managed to skirt my mind all morning. Watching his expression tighten briefly in sleep, along with the fingers of one of his hands, I sighed, more internally than on the outside.

  “Yeah,” I said. “I got that part.”

  When I glanced back, Ullysa was staring at me again, her odd-colored eyes glowing. She didn’t stare at my face; instead, her focus hovered somewhere just above my head, her eyes holding a kind of wonder. The same intensity and precision shifted back to Revik.

  I fidgeted with the doorjamb as she looked at him. It occurred to me that I didn’t want her getting too close to him, not even with her eyes.

  Abruptly, Ullysa’s irises clicked back into focus.

  She bowed, her expression still holding wonder.

  “...Of course, sister. My apologies. Truly.”

  I wrapped my arms around my waist, shrugging.

  It occurred to me I didn’t know exactly what she was apologizing for.

  Ullysa spoke before I could. “How is it that you are feeling yourself, sister?”

  I noticed her accent had lost some of its human-like cadence. Maybe she had relaxed some. Or maybe it had something to do with whatever clearly bothered yet excited her about me and Revik.

  “Fine.” I tried to unclench my fists, to relax that reflexive but alien vigilance. I couldn’t. “Fine. Just...” I glanced at Revik, stifling the impulse to step directly between him and the woman’s eyes. “I’m fine,” I repeated, succumbing to the impulse by moving a half-step. “...Just tired, I guess. Stinky. Hungry. In desperate need of a shower.”

  Ullysa smiled. “Please make yourself at home. We can supply you with anything you need during your stay.”

  “Stay?” I felt my face slacken. “How long will we be staying here?”

  Ullysa smiled. Her voice turned briefly business-like.