The Honored Mother just raised an eyebrow. “What's this war about, exactly?”
In response, the Queen-Mother grinned. “The Cumadóir, of course.”
Jarasax knew a smattering of Irish, and he had to restrain himself from spitting in disgust. “The Composer. You're going to ally with him.”
“Well... maybe.” The Crone shrugged. “That's what the war's about. Spring and Summer think the song is interesting, and think we should all become amhránaithe. Autumn and Winter are not convinced.” She grinned. “So we shall go to war. Isn't that the best way to solve problems?”
Worried, he pulled his employer to the side. “Honored Mother, a war between the fey is—”
“Nowhere near as devastating as it sounds,” she said. “Don't fret. Their contest will not spill into the streets.”
He frowned. “But—”
“Jarasax,” she said calmly. “I know what I am doing.” She turned back to the Queen-Mother. “Crone. What are the rules of the war?”
“Homunculi only,” the Crone said with a grin. “And we'll keep it underground.”
The Mother Monster blinked as realization dawned. “You're asking permission.”
Killing Sparrow shrugged. “Take it as you like. I just want to make sure the cainteoirí don't interfere.”
My employer frowned. “Cain... what?” She turned to him. “Jarasax?”
“Well, uh... it means 'speakers,' but I'm not sure in this context...”
Killing Sparrow cocked her head. “Your champions, Honored Mother. The ones fighting the curfá.”
“Curfá” was Irish for “chorus,” and was the fey name for the screamers.
The Mother Monster narrowed her eyes. “You're talking about the Paladins.”
“Of course I am,” Killing Sparrow said with a sigh that made her naked chest heave. “Really, dearest, do you have to make this so difficult? I'll speak plainly.”
Suddenly, something was different. The way she stood, the way she held herself. The fey's childish exuberance and enthusiasm were suddenly gone.
“The fey are going to be busy soon,” Killing Sparrow said flatly. “There will still be monsters, but very few new ones. Just lots of old designs. Once we come back, we'll have decided whether to help the Composer or your Paladins. If you interfere, it will greatly increase the chances of us siding with your enemies. Thuiscint?”
The Mother Monster nodded slowly. “I understand.”
“Good,” Killing Sparrow said, her grin quickly returning. “Have fun, dearest. But not too much.” She began to fade back into the shadows. “You remember what happened last time.”
Chapter 22: STULTITIA
SEENA
“Seena Amethyst Lancaster.”
Seena blinked, craning her neck. There was someone calling from a dark corner of the alley. It was still day, so she had her goggles on, otherwise she wouldn't have had any trouble seeing in the shadows. With them on, her vision was a little worse than someone with normal eyes.
Then the woman stepped out of the shadows, and Seena wished she had ran screaming in the other direction the second she heard her voice.
She was a naked Caucasian woman with long, waist-length brown hair and a large chest. A fey, most likely of the Autumn Court, though sometimes Seena had trouble keeping them straight. You could tell by their hair colors, but it was hard to remember. Spring was yellow, Summer red, Autumn brown, and Winter black, right?
“I need your help, Honored Nightstalker.”
No time for contemplation. She had dealt with the fey before, and while she put up a brave face to her friends, she was well aware of how stupid it had been. She wasn't about to make the same mistake twice.
So she turned and ran.
She didn't get far. Standing at the other end of the alley, blocking her path, was another fey. No, wait—it was the same fey. An exact clone of the one who had spoken before, right down to the freckles above her groin.
This was... bad. Probably. The fey rarely bothered to pilot multiple homunculi at once. It strained them unnecessarily. Something was up.
“Please, Honored Nightstalker,” the second one said pleadingly. “Don't be afraid.”
Seena glanced around for an exit. There was no way—no, wait. The alley walls were constructed with kemos in mind, with cunningly-disguised handholds in easy reach. She didn't have claws, but she should still be able to make use of them.
She rushed the nearest wall as fast as she could, fully expecting the fey to try and stop her. She didn't, she just gave her a bit of a disappointed look.
Seena scrambled up about a dozen floors in barely restrained panic. By the time she pulled herself up onto the roof, her hands were scraped and bleeding. They stung horribly, but she ignored the pain and just lay on her back, staring up at the sky, too exhausted to do much else. Thankfully, she had a few buffs that would make her blood clot a bit faster.
Then a pale woman stepped into her field of vision, looking down at her with a critical eye. “Are you quite done, Honored Nightstalker?”
Seena swore and spun away, leaving bloody handprints on the roof as she scrambled into a fighting crouch. The naked woman wasn't making any moves, but you could never trust a fey.
The fey sighed. “As I am sure you are aware, if I wanted you dead, you would be dead. Instead, I would prefer to have an intelligent conversation. Is that so much to ask?”
Seena narrowed her eyes. The fey was right, and she didn't really have much choice, anyway. “Who are you, exactly? An Autumn Crone, I'm guessing?”
She nodded. “Correct.” She bowed deeply. “I am the Queen-Mother of Killing Sparrow, the Crone of Night's Southern Autumn.”
That was really weird. Normally the Night Court fey only came out at night, and were equipped with nighteyes. This one was braving the day, and her eyes were baseline to boot. What was going on?
Whatever. Seena hadn't met any of Killing Sparrow before, but it didn't matter. All fey were the same. Giggling little monsters with no regard for how their actions would affect others. To them, everything was just a game. And...
Wait.
The Queen-Mother wasn't giggling. Or smiling, or bouncing around like a girl in a candy store. She was... serious. Seena didn't think she had ever seen that before.
She slowly rose from her crouch, wary but willing to listen. “Fine. What do you want, Honored Crone?”
A smile split her face briefly—very briefly. “I need your help with something. You aren't going to like it, but you are the only one I can ask.”
Seena's suspicious were returning. “What, exactly?”
“Your warlords have recently come to a very stupid decision,” Killing Sparrow said. “They have decided it would be in the best interests of everyone to kill the Paladins' retinue.”
Seena frowned. She hadn't heard anything about this, but that wasn't all that surprising. She was a babysitter. She hardly knew anything about missions even after they had been completed. “Why would they do that? The Generals are as against the Composer as anyone else.”
“Three reasons, actually. First, one of the retinue is a changeling, and they are convinced he is a spy for me.” Killing Sparrow shook her head and sighed. “Just because he doesn't shoot me on sight... regardless, that one is my fault, and I would feel bad if young Jarasax was killed for my mistake.”
Feel bad? A fey feeling guilt? Was... was this a joke? Was this just a couple of random naked twins hired to play a prank on her?
“Second, another member of the retinue is an angel. Completely cut off from the Saints, but your masters are still suspicious. Killing him—and the giant, for that matter—is really just being thorough.”
“And the third reason?” Seena said. Joke or not, the fastest way out of this was to get answers. She couldn't think of anything more damning than an angel—with Baal's murder still fresh in everyone's minds, that would probably have been enough.
“The third reason is because the leader of the retinue is a Beli
an,” Killing Sparrow said flatly. “An exceptionally dangerous one, at that. She's renounced her culture and is on the fixer, but...” She shrugged. “You know how these things are.”
This didn't make any sense. Belians were the enemies of pretty much everyone, true—they were strung-out chem-heads, they couldn't really help but antagonize everyone around them. And yes, ex-Belians who lost their fixers tended to relapse within hours, if not minutes. But still, to kill her for no other reason than that...
Seena narrowed her eyes. “There's something you're not telling me. What's the real reason they want to kill the chem-head?”
“Exactly what I said,” Killing Sparrow said calmly. “Drakela Sanguinas is a ridiculously dangerous Belian, in more ways than one. However, the exact details are not mine to share. Suffice it to say that she has no desire to relapse, and that her death would rob Domina City of an important asset.”
Seena scowled. “That's not good enough. I'm supposed to trust the word of a fey?”
Seena expected her to be offended, or maybe lapse into giggling—that was their normal response to insults. Instead, she just rolled her eyes.
“I swear, you are the stupidest person I have ever met. You insist on trusting when you should act suspicious, and you act suspicious when you should trust.” She rubbed her forehead. “Fine, we'll do this the old-fashioned way.”
The rooftop access door opened, and another of her homunculi walked out, dragging behind her—
Seena's heart stopped in her chest. “Jelena?”
The Glasyan looked around, seeking her voice. “Seena?” She kept her eyes firmly shut. She didn't have any daygoggles, so it was either that or get a splitting headache. “That you?”
“Yeah, I'm right here,” Seena said. “What happened? How did you get captured?”
There was a long pause.
“Well, you see...”
“She sold herself to Fevered Day,” Killing Sparrow said. Specifically the homunculus that had a firm grip on Jelena's arm. “In exchange for a bit of information her subculture needed to stay competitive.”
Seena stared. “You what?”
“It's not as bad as it sounds,” Jelena said. “It was only for three days. And... today's the last day.”
Well. That explained where she had been the last few days. Seena had assumed she was just busy with the Glasyans, but she hadn't really had time to confirm that. But... “Wait, then what are you doing with Killing Sparrow?”
“I bought her,” the first homunculus said. “I traded a very nice gargant for her.” She glared at Jelena, who still had her eyes closed. “I hope you realize that I overpaid.”
“But it's the last day of her debt, right?” Seena asked a little nervously. “That means you have to let her go.”
Killing Sparrow gave her a dangerous look. “I don't have to do anything, Honored Nightstalker. I bought the girl, not her debt. That means it is on Fevered Day to return her, not me.” She grinned cruelly. “And if Fevered Day can't find her, well, that's not her fault, now is it?”
Seena swallowed. She had never heard of a fey not honoring a deal, but they liked loopholes, and they could get away with it for the simple reason that no one could stop them. Not only were they individually powerful, but they commanded legions of monsters, were masters of the toy maker, and no one knew where their real bodies were.
Seena's path was obvious.
“Tell me what to do.”
The homunculus holding Jelena smiled. “I knew you'd see reason. Here.” She shoved Jelena forward, into Seena's surprised arms. “A gesture of good faith.”
“You're releasing her?” she asked dumbly. “Before I do your job?”
“As I said, a gesture of good faith.” The smile widened into a cruel grin. “Besides, if you cross me...”
“Fine,” Seena snapped. “You still own me. Got it. What exactly do you want? You still haven't said.”
“Isn't it obvious? You need to foil the assassination plot.” Killing Sparrow shrugged. “I don't particularly care how.”
Seena frowned. “That's all? That seems like something you could do yourself.”
“Killing the assassins won't work, and warning the retinue will only delay the inevitable,” she said. “If it were that simple, yes, I could do it. But your warlords are the kind of people who consider setbacks personal insults. You have to convince them to stop, however you can.”
“Wait,” Jelena said. She had her hand shading her eyes, and was squinting in Killing Sparrow's direction. Seena noted absently that the other homunculus, the one she had first seen on the roof, had disappeared. “Are you telling her to kill three warlords?”
“That's certainly one solution,” Killing Sparrow said. “That wouldn't be my first choice, for a number of reasons, but the warlords are worth less than the retinue at this point, so yes, that is on the table.” She shrugged. “It's up to you. But the assassination is scheduled for October 1st. You have twenty days. The assassins will spend that time gathering intelligence—I suggest you do the same. Inform me when you have results to discuss.”
“Wait,” Seena called as she turned to leave. “How do I contact you?”
She grinned. “How do you think?” Then she left, slipping through the door and down the stairs as silent as a whisper.
Jelena looked at Seena, confused. “What does that mean? How do we contact her?”
Seena winced. She didn't have the heart to tell her.
Jelena had been the fey's prisoner for three days. She didn't have any obvious modifications, and her mind was still intact. But they wouldn't have left her untouched. Killing Sparrow's parting words only confirmed Seena's suspicions.
Jelena Aune was now an unwitting spy for the fey.
Chapter 23: MATHEMATICA
DEREK
Wednesday morning, the day after the disastrous screamer attack, was not proving to be very productive. Akane and Derek were in math class, and the professor was droning on about Pythagoras.
Akane hadn't said anything about Ling, but Derek knew she approved. She tended to have a sharp and simple approach to problem solving, but that worried him. He didn't like violence, and he absolutely hated it against his friends. The fact that he was good at it was beside the point. He was afraid he had gone too far.
They were both bored, but she was handling it better than him. It took him a few minutes to realize that her doodles were something a little bit more substantial.
Derek frowned. “Is that a schedule?” he whispered.
She nodded and whispered back. “Uh-huh. I got Flynn's from Guland. We're going to try and get him into a trainer position at Necessarius, teaching the kids swordsmanship. That should keep him out of trouble.”
Derek smiled. “You're worried about him.”
She just glared. “Am not.”
He smiled a little wider.
She huffed and turned back to her work.
“Don't forget we have that gargant hunt later,” he said. “Though your boyfriend won't be there.”
She scowled at the implication, but didn't mention it. “Right after class?”
“Not quite. Adam said he wants to come, and he doesn't get off until an hour later.”
She didn't say anything. She didn't have anything else to add.
But Derek got to thinking about schedules. More specifically, the screamer schedule. There was a pattern to everything, even if they couldn't always see it, and surely this was no different. He got out his pad. He wasn't some sort of math whiz, but he had enough simple programs on the device to draw some conclusions.
The first attack was the 24th, a Friday night. The next was the very next morning, twelve hours later. Then two days later, Monday, in the middle of History class. The bats were almost exactly a week later, also interrupting History. The bleeders were three days after that, at one in the morning. And finally, five days after that the skins appeared, also in the morning.
It was helpful to have it all laid out, but it didn't reall
y tell him much he didn't already know. The Composer avoided the middle of the day for some reason, but otherwise the attacks were completely random.
Maybe that said something about the Composer. Maybe he was a vampire, or even just a night owl. If he was asleep during the day, it would explain a lot. Derek wasn't sure quite how that gelled with the theory about body jumping, but it was something to think about.
There were just too many questions. Why was there only one attack at a time? Did that mean he couldn't do more, or did he just not want to for some other reason? Where did the powers come from in the first place? They still didn't have the slightest idea how they worked.
Ugh. It was all so very tiring. The captured screamers were making it hard to sleep, and the random schedule was hardly helping. Waking up in the middle of the night, or even just getting pulled out of class, was hardly healthy.
Something about that bugged him.
Maybe if he did a more detailed comparison, calculating the actual hours or minutes, he'd have more luck. He didn't quite have enough data for that, so he sent a text to Laura. She had advanced math with Lizzy right now, but she'd be able to shoot it over to him.
Something... what was it?
As expected, he got the info within a minute. He started plotting the times, but it didn't seem any more clear.
But something was teasing at his brain...
The only consistent thing was that the attacks were getting more and more damaging. Did that mean that he was learning, or that he was stepping up his game? They didn't know anything about this guy, other than he existed—probably—and he was inactive during the day.
During the day...
What was that? What was it his subconscious was trying to tell him?
He glanced over at Akane, but she was still absorbed in Flynn's schedule. It was adorable how she tried to pretend she didn't like him when it was so obvious. But that wasn't helping him any, so he turned to the teacher.
She was still droning about the Pythagorean cult and everything. It didn't seem like that was what his brain had latched onto, but you never knew. What was he missing? The Composer didn't attack during the day. Was there some deeper meaning there he couldn't figure out?
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