O O O
Pux rocked on his heels, digging his hands into his pockets as they stepped onto the sidewalk. Shimma glanced back at him as they headed down the street to her Camaro.
“Did you just give her your number?” She sounded incredulous, her high-pitched laugh piercing the quiet street.
Pux shrugged noncommittal, still processing the scant conversation in the restaurant. He didn’t mean to be so awkward around Kaliel but she was different. He thought he’d get more out of her asking for the apple pie, but she acted like any other teenage girl, completely oblivious to who she used to be. He gulped.
“I hope she calls.” They turned onto main, the Camaro parked diagonally in one of the stalls. A figure stood in front of one of the closed shops at the end of the street. He spotted them, dropped the chain around his neck, and clenched his fist, moving towards them. Pux froze, his heart pounding double time. “Uh oh … this isn’t going to be good,” the feorn groaned.
Shimma followed his gaze. “What?” Her eyes locked on Krishani as she put a hand on her hip. “Oh.” She didn’t sound happy.
Pux didn’t want a confrontation but with the empty street, cold and night surrounding them, there was no escape. Krishani wore a black leather jacket, unzipped. He stopped a few feet away, his expression lethal.
“You need to leave,” he said quietly, his eyes communicating the rest of the threat.
Shimma smiled. “I thought we could help.”
Krishani let out a breath, fog rising between them. He scraped his thick combat boot along the snow-covered sidewalk. “I don’t need your help.”
Pux steeled himself, his own hand clenched in a fist. “What are you going to do to her?”
Krishani turned his stony glare on Pux. “She’s not your concern, feorn.”
“She’s my best friend!”
“She doesn’t even know who the hell you are,” Krishani shot back, fire brimming in his eyes. Pux hadn’t witnessed this side of Krishani first hand. The boy he used to know was cold and aloof but he was never poisonous and threatening. Pux thought of snakes, specifically king cobras, mesmerizing their prey before striking it down with deadly poison. Krishani was like that, enchanting, attractive, but ultimately dangerous. Pux didn’t know what to say. Krishani was right. Kaliel didn’t remember anything about the past. Pux wasn’t sure what his plan was, but he had the whistle. He could whisk her away to Avristar and show her where she grew up. He could help her remember all the good things and gradually help her with the bad.
Shimma yawned. “Did you come here to kill her?”
“Yes.”
“You can’t!” Pux was shocked by the honesty but he didn’t know much about Krishani’s relationship with Shimma. He opened his mouth but when Shimma glared at him he snapped it shut, crossing his arms. Kaliel was happy; Krishani couldn’t take that away, no matter what kind of revenge he wanted. He seethed on the inside, tucking his fists under his armpits for warmth. He bounced on his heels, hating the cold.
Krishani’s gaze blazed at Pux. “I can.”
Shimma tilted her head to the side. “You didn’t stay for the reading.”
Krishani was a mask of stone. “What did I miss?”
Shimma shrugged. “The Tower.”
“Fuck.”
“What? You didn’t think she was dangerous?”
Pux rubbed his lips together trying to keep them from getting chapped. He looked at his shoes to avoid Krishani’s penetrating gaze. He felt small, watching the conversation from the sidelines. Anything he wanted to say sounded stupid in his head. He glanced up to see Krishani’s eyebrows pulled together in thought. After a long agonizingly cold silence, he dropped his fist.
“She’s not dangerous … but she’s in danger.”
Shimma scoffed. “Do you think they know?”
Krishani shook his head. “I don’t think that matters.”
“I think ‘they’ matter the most. You can’t let them get to her.” Pux interjected. He gazed longingly at the Dodge Camaro wanting to be inside, shielded from the cold. They had a long drive back to Thunder Bay and it was already past eight. Krishani didn’t look at him when he spoke.
“They won’t come first. Wraiths, Zephyrs, Grindamars, Daed … Flames, they’ll come.”
“Flames?” Pux was confused, Kaliel was a Flame, and she shouldn’t have to be afraid of her own kind. But, she betrayed them like she betrayed everyone else.
Krishani scowled. “Cossisea and Klavotesi are Darkesh’s champions.”
“Oh.” Pux shifted foot-to-foot uneasiness snaking through him. He thought he could become human and be friends with Kaliel again but that seemed stupid. All he did was put himself in the middle of a brewing war, one she wasn’t strong enough to face.
“What if they all come?” Shimma asked.
Krishani smiled, and it made Pux feel terrible. “I guess we’ll find out.”
“Why can’t we tell her who she is? Maybe she could help,” Pux suggested, the words escaping his mouth before he could think about them.
Krishani and Shimma fixed withering looks on him. “Because she was so helpful in the past.…”
Pux hung his head, lacing a hand around his neck. “Don’t make me leave … I can’t … I don’t want to leave.”
Krishani glanced at Shimma. “Where are you staying?”
“Thunder Bay. I wasn’t crazy enough to let him move here.”
Krishani nodded and turned on his heel, stalking down the street. “Don’t get in my way.”
***
Chapter 16
The High King
December came and the lake froze over. Krishani watched her. She had a simple routine in the winter. School, work, home. She didn’t go out with friends, and it didn’t seem like she had any friends. Pux stayed away. As long as they weren’t interfering with his plan he wasn’t going to attack them. Immortality was such a fragile thing, long lasting, but utterly useless against decapitation.
Snow crunched underfoot as he passed City Hall, the eloquence of downtown Kenora unfurling in front of him. The streets were covered in patches of red sand, the sky a bright blue, sun glinting off icicles hanging off carved stone buildings. It was beautiful in a mismatched way, different stone shades blending with bright pink, blue, and yellow signs, stucco exteriors and big glass store front windows. Decorative lights hung from street lamps in the shapes of reindeer, trumpets, and elves. Remnants of a religion as foreign to him as the graveyard. He didn’t bother with human traditions; holidays other than Samhain and Beltane were completely lost on him.
Even then, he couldn’t remember the last time he celebrated Samhain. Winter Solstice was forever marred by the battle that came in the dead of night, and ended with an explosion. He quickened his pace towards the door marked 105 and frowned at a car parked in the handicap stall without a sign hanging from its window. Most of the shops and the bank closed at five, and the street was deserted. Other than people hurrying from a store to their car it was quiet. He squinted at the car, a piece of paper stuck under the wiper blade.
Krishani stepped off the curve and rounded the ugly beige car. It didn’t have hubcaps, and there was a patch of paint missing from the side door. He plucked the note from under the wiper blade. It was from Elwen. He found something. And the car was a gift. Krishani rounded the car, inspecting it, blinking every few seconds because it wasn’t a car he’d ever drive. The note referred to keys being upstairs. He crumpled the piece of paper and found the keys on the island, along with a fresh driver’s license. He slid the license into the wallet in his back pocket and took the keys. Another note rested beside them, an address and directions. Krishani gritted his teeth and fled the apartment.
He passed Sioux Narrows, turned off one of the side streets on the far end of town, and followed it until he saw red lights. The roads in this part of Lake of the Woods were treacherous. Krishani slid down a hill on his way into the area, his tires fighting through a thick blanket of snow. Evergreens line
d the narrow trail, snow hanging off branches. He braked, the Cavalier jolting to a stop, throwing Krishani forward. He put it in park and kicked the door open. Elwen emerged, wearing a long black trench coat, black slacks, shiny black shoes, and a gray plaid grimwig. His sallow features were accentuated by the winter landscape surrounding them, making his cheeks look more sunken in than usual, his lips paler, his eyes a duller brown.
“What the hell?” Krishani asked, spreading his arms out. He didn’t bother with the leather jacket, nothing but a standard black t-shirt separating him from the biting cold.
Elwen glowered, looking up the road. “You need to see this.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and hurried down the road. Krishani glanced behind him and went back to shut the Cavalier off, shoving the keys into his pants pocket as he followed Elwen further into the snowy forest. Elwen passed a metal marker with forty-four on it, a thin road snaking into a bunch of shadows. He followed the road around a corner and stopped at a copse of birch trees, white and salmon colored bark bright against the contrasting white. He followed the thin path down, walking along fresh tire tread indents. A Tempo came into view, along with a sprawling house, accented by red and khaki paint. It was quaint, restored, polished. Krishani followed Elwen around the front of the house, pointing at a smoking fire pit and snow-covered dock.
“What do you think?” Elwen asked.
“You’re insane,” Krishani said, monotone. He didn’t shiver against the cold, letting it creep into his skin and press itself to the nape of his neck. He knew it wasn’t good to be so careless, but lately his insides were made of coal and lava. He found it so hard to be near her and lost in limbo, unable to figure out what to do, unable to let himself get too wrapped up in her. She wasn’t the same person. He kept reminding himself of that.
Elwen cleared his throat loudly. “I meant the house.”
Krishani glanced at the second story, two windows jutting out from the red shingles, both of them framed in khaki painted wood. “I think it’s a house.”
“Someone is squatting.”
A black cat appeared on the porch, a loud meow erupting from its mouth. Its eyes glowed yellow as it rose up on its hackles and let out a loud hiss followed by another menacing meow. Krishani glared at it as it tiptoed across the ledge. He licked his lips and glanced at Elwen. “It’s not who you think it is.” He went back the way they came, not bothering to cover his tracks.
“Do you know who it is?”
Krishani reached for the dagger on his belt. “If it’s who I think it is, we’re screwed.”
O O O
Tor ripped through the snow, pushing the snowmobile to its limits. Wind whipped his goggle-covered face and tore over his leather-covered knuckles. He bumped over more of the tiny snow dunes scattered along the frozen lake and spotted the curve of land near his house. Tall evergreens shrouded the dock, protecting the house from icy winter winds. The sky was full of puffy gray clouds, billowing across the sky like smoke. He slowed near the dock, the base of the snowmobile sliding onto the snow covered wood planks. He rode it into the yard and stopped near the circle of trees, pulling up the goggles and wiping his face.
He didn’t have time to breathe. In less than a millisecond he was at the porch, Black Magic alerting him of intruders. He looked up, two people in dark clothing fleeing the scene. He clenched his fist and glanced at the snowmobile before chasing after them through the forest. They were quick, crashing through the snowy underbrush, cracking tree branches as they catapulted themselves through trees. Tor pushed away broken branches, slowing as they disappeared through a wall of evergreens.
He didn’t follow. He stalked through the snow back to his house, another dark figure standing by the porch. This one wasn’t associated with the others. Wearing jeans and a plaid shirt, bristles of brown hair across his chin, he was obviously something else entirely.
“Mythos,” Tor said, nearing him.
The Vulture smiled and crossed his arms, his flat brown eyes holding a challenge in them. “You’re not easy to find.”
“I wasn’t trying to be found.” Amusement slipped off Tor’s face, he didn’t have time for this. He clenched his fist, constricting the air around Mythos’s human form. The Vulture choked, his hands cramped, as blood seeped from his nose. Tor watched as trickles of blood appeared at the corners of his mouth, in the whites of his eyes and on his earlobes. His knees buckled and he pitched forward, writhing in pain. The Vulture exploded out of the body seconds later, hissing as it twisted into the sky.
Tor knelt and as he touched the body’s shoulder, disintegrating into dust. He stood, rubbed his fingers together, thinking about chalky human dust. He nodded at the cat and it hopped off the porch, doing a perimeter check. He glanced at the trees, concern crossing his expression. He had to time this perfectly. When they came for him, she had to be ready.
And she hadn’t even awakened yet.
O O O
Krishani braced his hands on the car, throwing up in the snow. He blinked, anger crunching his bones. Elwen approached, worry etched onto his sullen features. He brushed snow out of his hair, but more of it peppered through the streaks of gray. Krishani couldn’t control his surprise, or his pain. He crouched, pushing a handful of fluffy white snow into his mouth and spitting it out. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and threaded his fingers into his hair, agitation tensing his muscles.
“He’s been here the whole time,” Krishani huffed, disbelief coloring his tone. He saw him, the former High King of the Lands of Peace. He wheezed in and out, his chest rattling with congestion, his heart thudding wildly after the sprint through the trees. He braced his hands on his knees, barely able to stand. His vision blurred and he shook it away, forcing the land into focus. He glanced at Elwen but his ancestor seemed unperturbed.
“Do we need the hospital?” he asked, prudent.
Krishani shook his head and stood up straight, pulling his t-shirt over his belt. “No hospitals,” he rasped, coughing. “I’m fine, I can drive.” He fished the keys out of his pocket and rounded the Cavalier. Elwen turned to his Corolla. Krishani blasted the heat as he made a narrow U-turn and began rolling down the road.
The drive was quiet. Krishani played a random radio station, letting noise fill the car. Sounds felt far away, like there was some blockage in his ears. The road blurred and came into focus a few times, stabbing pain in his body attacking him off and on. Kenora seemed too far away, and even though the limit was eighty kilometers, he barely did sixty, not relishing the idea of veering off the road and sinking into a bog, falling off a cliff, or landing in a lake. The drive took twice as long as usual. It was ten by the time he pulled into the stall behind his building and climbed the rickety metal stairs behind the flat. Upstairs, he hastily kicked off his boots and padded down the hallway, sitting on the edge of the bed. He grabbed the stale glass of water from the night before, and one of the bottles of pills on the night stand. He knocked them back and curled onto the bed, waiting for the pain to go away.
O O O
Krishani didn’t remember falling asleep. He woke to a gnawing emptiness in his stomach and rolled onto his side, drawing his knees to his chest. He held his clasped hands against his body and tried to regulate his breathing. Tor had her. All this time he hid her from the Lands, from the Valtanyana, from him. He blinked and sat, his body exhausted but his mind crisp and awake. The heavy blanket suffocated his legs and he shoved it away, still fully dressed, the dagger safely on the end table. He fumbled for the lamp, clicking it on. His room was a gray box. A double bed filled most of the space, plain white end tables on either side of it. Under the window in the corner was a black topped desk, a rickety rolling chair tucked under it.
It was better than some of the places he had died. He cringed as memories rocketed to the surface of his form. Gunshots pounded behind his eyes. He ducked in the slippery trench, covered head to toe in mud. He felt the heaviness of a gun in his hand. He shook it, clicking bullets into place and turn
ed, daring a peek over the ledge. A series of bullets dotted the grayish sludge, splatters finding their way to the sky. He wanted to duck but the host froze, the trigger jammed. He pressed it again and again until a stray bullet caught him between the eyes and Krishani absorbed white matter, heat cycling through his cold form.
O O O
Kaliel didn’t like the cold. She wore two pairs of pants, thick ugly boots, and a thigh length winter coat. Even in class she had sweaters with thumb loops to cover half her hands. He noticed the rings she wore, a Claddagh on her right hand, the heart pointing outwards. It meant she was single. What unnerved him was what she wore on her left hand. On her ring finger was a triskele, a triple interlocking spiral. He knew it from the brief time he spent on Avristar. On her index finger was a gold band with a tiny amethyst crystal embedded into it. For a split second he thought she knew. He didn’t understand why she said it was her birthstone. The last time he saw the real one was at Castle Tavesin. That castle was nothing but rubble now.
Kaliel seemed perturbed when she explained that it meant she was born in February. The conversation ended there and the endless days of silence continued. She guarded herself, didn’t go outside during breaks, made sure she wasn’t alone in hallways. She left school as soon as the bell rang, unless she had choir practice, and went straight home or straight to the restaurant. The flat Elwen chose was around the corner from Red Boot, so he had an excuse to eat there.
She never served him.
A knock sounded on the door and Krishani glanced up, Elwen standing in the doorway, bags under his eyes. “What are you doing?” he asked; his tone hard.
“Thinking.”
He sighed and came into the room, leaving the door open. Krishani glanced at the dagger.
“Tor is alive,” Elwen said.
“Tor knew where she was. That’s why they didn’t kill him. They thought he’d lead them to her eventually. I guess they didn’t anticipate …” Krishani trailed off. What he knew about Tor was more than what most people knew. They succeeded in bringing Tor to his knees. Morgana didn’t talk about him after that. She was more concerned about the wars. When she ran out of beasts to raise she used oneiromancy to walk through dreams, turning men against each other.
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