by John Conroe
Fighting is an athletic skill, and like any other athlete, a good fighter develops instincts and ingrained muscle memory. It’s like a zone, where part of your mind takes over the action, making choices and plans at mental speeds far greater than the everyday level of thinking most of us use. My fight brain took over, slowing my perceptions and moving me backwards and down. I dropped to one knee, placed both palms on the edge of the hatch and kicked my feet out and down. Hanging for a split second from my hands, I let go, falling the last six feet of the twelve foot drop to land awkwardly in front of the barn. Immediately three figures flipped out of the door above me, landing lightly on their feet twenty paces from the barn before spinning toward me, blades in hand. My gun was a little more than a yard in front of me, closer to me than the elf I had punched. His two pals had landed closer to the house, their amused faces watching the fun.
“Dad!”
My heart thudded into my feet at the sound of Ashley’s cry and all three elves spun to look at my daughter in the window of the door, her face panicked. Charm was barking frantically as Ash started to unbolt the door.
“Ash NO!” I screamed.
The two pointy-eared thugs further back turned and started to head for the house, I jumped for my gun, the calculator in my head telling me I couldn’t beat the remaining elf to the prize. I had already failed, lured into a simple trap, out maneuvered and outfought, but I was going to kill at least one of them, even as I died. That simple plan in place, I dove for the Sig, grabbed it and rolled to my feet, startled that I had succeeded. The reason was instantly obvious. My elf was swarming with pucks, his head and body covered by at least ten, swiping at them ineffectively with his blade.
The other two were almost to the house and I couldn’t fire as Ashley was directly behind them. One elf was slightly ahead of the other, and he was inches from the porch when a white blur took him off his feet and slammed him to the ground fifteen feet away. The white goblin tore the elf’s left arm off at the shoulder before slamming his misshapen jaws shut on the doomed Hunter’s face. About the same height as the Summer goblins, this one massed a great deal more, maybe more than two hundred pounds, and its power was awful, except that it was killing my enemy.
The remaining Hunter bounded to the porch, ignoring the fate of his companions, intent upon the prize. Ashley’s fear gripped face backed from the window as the elf approached the door. Two yards from the door, she appeared, resolving from murky shadow like a ghost. One moment the porch was empty except for the Hunter, the next instant a quicksilver form wearing black was gliding from the dark corner, her night inked blade slicing the elf from waist to opposite ribcage, cutting without resistance.
Her platinum hair was pulled back in a ponytail like her brother’s, but shorter, and her eyes were locked on mine as she ignored the suddenly dead Hunter lying in chunks at her feet. Unlike Greer, her irises were silver, the glittering silver of expensive flatware or bullion coin.
A flutter of activity from the nearest Hunter took my attention to him just as he shook off the cluster of pucks. It appeared that their razor jaws couldn’t penetrate the odd leather of his suit, but his face, neck and hands were a mass of bite wounds. They looked horrifically painful, and he grimaced in pain, but still reached up behind him to the quiver on his back. The wooden something he pulled from the quiver snapped open and he was now holding a short, powerful looking bow. He didn’t get any farther though, because I shot him. My gun had locked itself to him without thought, the red dot of the laser hovering on his torso. I automatically triple tapped him, two to the chest, one to the head. The old Mozambique drill. My dad had taught it to me when I was fifteen. A rapid reaction drill designed to produce immediate stops to attacking hostiles. It worked as advertised, dropping him like a sack of manure.
My attention swiveled back to my daughter, who was now five feet from what Greer had described as the most dangerous fighter of his generation, separated by just a wooden and glass door. Her name popped into my head….Neeve. She studied Ashley for a moment, then looked back to me, her dark face expressionless. Then she moved off the porch, her motions fluid and eerie silent, sliding into the shadows by the corner of the house, her eyes locked on mine till she disappeared around the edge. The white goblin snarled once at the remains of the Hunter in its blue bloodied hands, met my gaze with its gleaming red eyes, then bounded after the Winter Guardian, covering the distance in three awful leaps. My pucks chattered and squeaked to themselves as they hovered over the body of my kill, taking turns delightedly flying through the greenish motes of light that had started to rise into the air like sparks from a fire. The other two bodies were also sparking, as well as melting into bluish goo. The leather clothes stayed intact, as did the silver metallic blades.
Ashley unbolted the door and ran to me, Charm a barking brown blur at her feet. Automatic training took hold and I dropped the hammer of my Sig back to double action mode, using the hammer drop.
I then reloaded the gun with the spare magazine at my waist, the partially used mag going into my coat pocket. All my actions were by rote, ingrained from childhood by a man who had trained countless agents to stay alive in drug wars.
I caught my daughter in my left arm, not yet willing to holster my gun, till we were safely inside. The pucks provided an aerial escort as we quickly moved back to the house, then they flew off into the twilight, Pancho in tailguard position, giving us a little midair bow before streaking after his clan.
Chapter 12
We got back inside, and I locked the door behind us. Then I armed all the gun traps, the house alarm and settled near the kitchen and the old cellar door. Ashley brought me a big glass of orange juice and when I looked at her with raised eyebrows she explained.
“I read somewhere that sugar can help with shock,” she said, then gasped loudly.
“Dad, your arm!” she said pointing.
My long sleeve shirt was black and that had helped hide the blood from my puncture wound, which I had ignored till now. It had throbbed before, but adrenaline and the threat of imminent death had pushed the pain into the background. Now, brought fully to my attention it started to really hurt. I grabbed some kitchen scissors and, with Ashley’s help cut the shirt sleeve from wrist to mid-forearm where the wound bled deep red. Dad’s voice started to play in my head, lecturing on how to clean a puncture with running water, disinfect and cover lightly when the bleeding stops.
“Ash, grab the first aid kit from my bathroom will you?” I asked, hoping the task would keep her just busy enough to dull her worry. While she darted out of the kitchen to get it, I ran cold tap water over the puncture which washed away the older blood along with fresh as it cleaned the wound. Washed up, the puncture didn’t look like much, just a small hole less than an eighth of an inch in diameter. The depth of it was probably a quarter inch or so, but the skin and muscle had sprung back, making the hole smaller.
I patted the spot dry and when a pale Ashley returned with the kit, I used a gauze pad covered in Neosporin to disinfect it. That done I covered it with a self adhesive pad from the first aid kit and flexed my right hand experimentally. I won’t lie, it hurt, but function was unimpaired as my triple tap had proven.
“Not too bad, kiddo, but it aches a little. Would you grab a couple of Motrin for me?”
She nodded, calmer after seeing how small the wound really was.
When she brought the pills I gulped them down, then drank half the glass of orange juice.
“Dad, what happened out there?”
“What happened Ash, was that I got suckered out of my house by Hunters…elves of the Green Court. Then the pucks attacked one of them, what I think was an ice goblin attacked another, and Greer’s sister killed the last one. Then I shot the one the pucks were fighting with.”
She just looked at me, her face pale and I gathered her into a hug. But while her face was buried into my neck, I examined the fact that I had just killed a sentient being. The goblin I had killed in the woods was
a monster, not much different than killing an attacking dog. But the Hunter was a person, and I had shot him down. I was sorry I had had to kill him. But it really didn’t bother me that he was dead. Weird huh? See, the thing was that I was more upset that some group had decided to attack us, had decided that killing me and kidnapping Ashley was the proper action for them. My actions to protect my daughter and myself were clear and justified in my head. At the heart of it, I was more disturbed that his decisions and those of his companions had resulted in their deaths than I was concerned with the manner or delivery of their deaths.
Reading the paper or watching the news had provided daily examples of one person attacking another, but until it happened to us personally, it had all been abstract. Arms length…a tragic story, but not immediately compelling. Now we were neck deep in a story that would headline every news outlet in the world and the idea that we were the targets was equal parts scary and surreal. I rapidly alternated from fear to anger and back to fear.
A sudden loud beeping made us both jump and whirl around to look in the direction of the sound. It was only the oven, announcing that Ashley’s pizza was done. We looked at each other and laughed a little, both ignoring the slightly hysterical tone in our voices. I took my hand off the butt of my gun and pulled the pizza from the oven. Then I looked at our well lit interior and the blackness of night out the window.
“We’re gonna eat by candlelight tonight, pumpkin,” I announced starting to turn off lights. Ashley immediately joined in, killing the lights in the family room, while I turned off the foyer lights and turned on all the exterior lights. Now we could see out, but looking in was harder.
My mind returned to the fight scene and something new occurred to me.
“Ash, I think I’ve seen those men before – earlier today. I saw that girl, Eirwen cross the road by the pharmacy and meet up with three men. I’m pretty sure they were the same ones.”
“So…you think Eirwen was one of them?” she asked, eyes wide.
“Yeah, I do. Listen, here’s what I want to do. Let’s eat some pizza, ‘cause we need the energy. Then we’re gonna hunker down for the night. I think we’ll sleep right down here. Greer told me he would return soon and I need to ask him what is going on and what our options are. At first light, we head to Grandpa’s, okay?”
“Should we call grandpa or go there now?” she asked, her tone and body language telling me she would really like to head there immediately.
I shook my head. “If we call Grandpa, he’ll insist on heading over here. I don’t want him out there in the dark. The elves all have really good night vision according to Greer. Same for us leaving to go there…too vulnerable getting from here to the car, although if we had to I would. Plus, I really need to talk to Greer, he’s the only one who can answer my questions.”
She nodded, then picked at her pizza absently.
“Listen, we’re gonna figure this out!” I said as confidently as I could. Meanwhile I was trying to find any ideas for how I was gonna make that happen. Only two ideas presented themselves. One, that I could somehow negotiate through Greer, and two, that maybe my Dad’s federal connections could protect us.
Examining both, I found more questions than answers. Did Greer have any clout with his Court? Would anyone in his world listen? Would the US government believe any of this? Could they even protect us? And who would protect us from our own government if they thought Ashley really had any of these Talents or powers or what have you.
***
We made a sleeping area on the floor of the family room, near the door to the cellar. The couch cushions made for okay temporary mattresses, covered with a couple of Ashley’s old comforters. I found myself staring at Peter Pan and Tinkerbell on the one that was wrapped around my daughter. Charm was curled up next to her, but while Ash was asleep, the little pitbull was on active guard duty, watching and listening to the night. I kept an eye on the monitor, the cameras showing the lit up exterior to good effect, but frankly, I had more faith in Charm’s biological alarms than the electronic ones. The heat from our woodstove, the pizza and the aftereffect of the fight lulled me to sleep. I woke suddenly, when Charm’s head came off the floor, the low growl in her chest bringing me awake with awful suddenness. The cable box by the television showed twelve sixteen. I checked the monitor in my lap and my heart froze at the sight of a male figure moving about my yard. A second later I recognized it as Greer’s form and my blood pressure dropped measurably. He was inspecting the remains of the Hunters, holding up the leather uniforms and gathering their blades and bows. When he had them all together he rolled each blade and bow in a green suit and stacked the bundles on the porch, then he looked directly at the camera on the porch, his expression expectant.
I slid carefully out from under my own comforter (Winnie the Pooh) and whispered “Stay!” to Charm, who chose to listen to my command. I could swear that dog understood her job was to protect the child-woman curled next to her.
Disarming the alarm and cradling my Winchester, I eased out the door, gently closing it behind me.
Greer watched me without a word, studying me as I in turn studied the night around us. It was all quiet, cold and frosty.
“You’ve been a bit busy,” he said when I finally met his gaze.
“I had help,” I answered, which sent his eyebrows up.
“I did notice that only one had bullet holes in it,” he said, gesturing at the bundled leather by his feet.
I nodded. “They had me dead to rights, but the pucks distracted one, a white monster that looked like two of the green goblins put together killed the second, and your sister chopped the last one in half,” I said.
“Dad?” a worried voice called from inside.
“It’s okay Ash,” I said back, loud enough to carry through the door. “Why don’t you come inside and I’ll give you the run down?” I said, making the decision to let him in.
He nodded and followed me into the house, his movements cautious and careful. At first I was confused by his defensive posture, but then it occurred to me that he was carefully avoiding contact with the steel door, the nails in the door frame and any other piece of iron or steel in the house.
I caught Charm’s collar as she rushed the intruder, her powerful lunge almost pulling me off my feet. Leading her back to Ashley, I made sure my daughter had hold of her before closing the front door and finding Greer a stool to sit on, far from any iron object. He picked it up and moved closer to the door, away from the woodstove, and the steel littered kitchen area.
When he settled I explained everything that had happened, walking him through the action as I had been taught by father.
“That was a most complete report,” he noted at my story’s conclusion.
“Why do they disappear?” Ashley suddenly blurted. “Why do the bodies evaporate or whatever?”
I had wondered the same thing, but that question was much farther down my list.
“They belong to my world, Fairie. So when we die on your world, the smallest bits, the tiny specks that make up all of us, return to our world and place in the Web of the One. If humans die on my world, they return here, or at least their essence does,” he answered with a furrowed brow, not fully happy with his own explanation.
“I think Greer means that our atoms or electrons or something return to their proper dimension when we die,” I offered, glancing his way to see if I had it right. He nodded and Ashley’s expression indicated her understanding of the concept.
“Why did your sister help me?” I asked.
“Neeve was protecting your daughter from the Hunters, keeping her out of the hands of the Summers. The ice goblin you saw was Groll, my sister’s dieg T’oorc. Each Guardian has a….familiar would be the only word that comes close…gifted to them by our Queen,” he explained. Then he frowned and looked at the ground in thought for a moment.
“What?” I demanded.
“Well, it just that Neeve left you alive. She didn’t take Ashley, but left h
er here with you. That’s not how she works,” he said.
I shrugged. “I don’t have any answers. She just killed the Hunter and slid away into the shadows, watching me the whole time,” I said with a shudder. “Then that toothy ape of hers followed her like a bouncing rubber ball.”
“Do you have an ice goblin?” Ashley suddenly asked.
Greer gave her a little smile and shook his head. “No, I have Coel….he’s a bit different and I found him myself when he was a cub. He’s a mathuinaana – I am uncertain what animal that is closest to him in this world. I think it’s a form that died off many eons ago here.”
“Extinct?” Ashley supplied.
“Yes that seems right. Anyway, you will meet him, shortly. He’s patrolling the farm, looking for any problems.”
“What if he runs into....Groll?” she asked, worried for the mysterious Coel.
“They know each other and even Groll isn’t silly enough to fight Coel,” he said with a certain pride.
“Greer, do you a young woman named Eirwen?” I asked.
His eyebrows shot up as high as they could go. “How do you know that name?”
“We met her…in the drugstore. Actually, she came up to Ashley in the makeup aisle. Who is she? I saw those same Hunters with her that died here tonight,” I supplied.
“Eirwen is the Princess of Summer, heir to the Green Court,” he said after a moment, his expression grim. “She is the best Hunter they have.”