Bigfootloose and Finn Fancy Free

by Randy Henderson

  *La, what could go wrong, speaking to a revenge-crazy jorōgumo?* Alynon said.

  At the same time, Silene shook her head. “Tricked or no, her sister died at my hands. I fear that words of peace or reason will take no root in her heart.”

  “What option is there?” I asked.

  *If you wish to stop a jorōgumo seeking vengeance, her Archon must bring her to heel. You alone have neither the power nor the influence to hope for success.*

  Ugh. “Alynon suggests having the Shadows Archon rein in the jorōgumo and her clan.”

  “Yes. That … may work,” Silene said. “But if I attempt to address the Shadows Archon it will seem but an act of fear and weakness, and further open our clan to attack.”

  “Then have your Archon speak to theirs,” I said. “That’s what he’s there for.”

  Silene nodded. “I will try, of course. Though … I fear our Archon may not be willing to pay the costs the Shadows would demand in exchange, not when I have brought such trouble to him and our patrons both. But I shall offer whatever it costs to protect my clan, even my life to the Shadows.”

  Ah, frak.

  “Look,” I said. “Maybe—”

  “I thank you for all you have done,” Silene said. “But you and your brother should depart quickly, lest the Shadows attack.”

  My brother.

  Double frak.

  “I’ll go talk to the Shadows Archon,” I said, words I could have happily gone my whole life without speaking. “It was my fault you faced Hiromi, anyway.”

  “I don’t—” Silene began, then stopped, her shoulders sinking with resignation. “Thank you. I shall send word to the Silver Archon still, for what good that may do, and prepare for the Shadows’ return.”

  “Then I stay, too,” Sal said.

  “That would make me—” Silene began, then frowned, and glanced at Challa. “That is, I’m sure you’d be welcome. But I alone may not decide, not when it affects others.”

  “Saljchuh deserve to stay,” Challa said. “Besides, himself too strange to be scary.”

  “Umph!” Sal said in a sharp cough.

  Challa shrugged, and walked away.

  “That is … good to see,” Silene said, though she didn’t sound convinced of it. “You seem to have connected with her.”

  Sal shrugged. “Herself remind me of sister-mine.”

  “Oh? Well, that’s—I should go and heal my wounded cousins,” she said, and turned to follow after Challa.

  “Wait,” Sal said, stopping her. “Is not just brightbloods hurt by shadowbright attack. Is Grayson’s Curse, too. Youself’s clan not strong enough to stand against shadowbrights with so many bad-sick.”

  Silene looked to her tree, and shook her head. “I cannot heal them, too, not quick enough to be ready if the Shadows attack.” She looked at me. “If you cannot gain us a cure, can you perhaps get us more of Grayson’s Curse?”

  “What?” I asked, shocked. “You want to drug your own brightbloods?”

  “They are drugged already. Without more, they will die before we can heal them. With it, they will at least be able to fight for their lives, and the lives of their fellow brightbloods should they need to.”

  I sighed. I could understand Silene’s argument, but it still felt somehow wrong. It was not my choice to make, however. “I … may know someone who can make the drug for you,” I said. “An alchemist. I will try and bring her to you, if you promise she won’t be harmed.”

  “I would not harm someone come to help my clan.”

  “Okay,” I said. “I’ll try. I can’t guarantee she’ll come, though.”

  “Thank you. You are a true friend to the brightbloods,” Silene said, and then hurried after Challa again.

  Sal watched her leave, then said in a hesitant tone, “If youself need I for protection—”

  I gave his arm a pat. “Stay,” I said. “Probably best if no Silver brightblood go with me to the Shadows Archon anyway. I’ll ask Reggie to go with me instead.”

  Sal shook his head. “The Archon would have to lock horns with enforcer to look bigstrong to himself’s followers. Youself better to take wolfbright brother. Wolfbrights trusted by the Shadows.”

  “I’m not putting Pete in danger,” I said.

  Sal frowned. “Is himself not in danger go or not go? Why not let himself fight for life and clan, too? It is a big choice youself take from brother-yours, unless youself being true-sure can keep himself safe alone?”

  “No,” I said. Damn it. “But you don’t know Petey. He’s been through enough. And I don’t want him to lose his, I don’t know, his innocence. Not any more than he already has. Not if I have another choice.”

  Sal scratched at the stubble on his chest. “Does youself have other choice?” he asked.

  I watched the river glinting in the moonlight for a minute. “I’ll think about it,” I said finally, though I already knew the answer. Taking Pete really would help, not only to be heard by the Shadows Archon, but to be trusted. And Sal was right. If Pete’s and Vee’s lives were at stake, I didn’t have the right to leave them out of the decisions, or the risks. “Well, if I’m going to do this, I’d better get to doing it. I’ll send word, whatever happens.”

  “And weself be ready,” Sal said. “Whatever happening.”

  I started to turn away, then stopped. This whole thing had started with a promise to Sal, and I thought perhaps there was still a chance I could fulfill that promise at least. “Look, about Silene—”

  “Yes?”

  “I, well, if you like her, I think you should tell her so.”

  Sal blushed. “I don’t think herself like I so much.”

  “I think maybe she does,” I said. “Or at least, she will if you give her time. But she has reasons to think you won’t like her, that she is no longer, uh, beautiful. You’ll need to be patient, and make her understand the reasons you do like her. I mean, if you do.”

  Sal gave a shy shrug. I smiled.

  “Okay. Well, good luck, and think about what I said. I’ll keep in touch.”

  I made my way back along the trail, past the humming dam. As I marched along the trail, my phone began playing “Always on My Mind” and vibrating in a heartbeat staccato.

  Dawn was calling.

  *La! She will not be pleased that you are risking your life once again.*

  I stopped, and pulled the phone out of my pocket, looking at Dawn’s smiling face displayed on the screen.

  *If she knows you are passing this close to home, she’ll want to go along,* Alynon added in a warning tone.

  She knew I was back, alive and well. I’d called her from the ARC facility to let her know. But Alynon was right.

  If I answered, I would have to either lie to her about why I’d be delayed, or tell her I was going out to face the local Lord of Darkness, and neither was likely to lead to a good result in the end. I needed to speak with her in person. If I tried to explain the situation with the brightbloods over the phone, now, she might not give me the chance later to tell her my feelings about us, my decisions. Or I’d be forced to try and do so over the phone.

  I was too afraid of losing her to risk everything on a phone call.

  I pushed ACCEPT anyway.

  “Hey,” Dawn said. “Why aren’t you in my arms yet, damn it?”

  “Uh, well, I may not be back until the morning, actually. I need to take care of one more thing for Silene, something she can’t do herself. Petey’s going with me for backup, I think.”

  “What one more thing?” Dawn asked, her tone skeptical.

  “Something risky and possibly foolish, but necessary.”

  “That’s become the flavor of the week.”

  “No, you’re thinking of Totally Fudged.”

  “Uh huh. Details?”

  “I just need to have a talk with someone. I’d rather explain it when I get home. Do you trust me?”

  Dawn was silent for a second, and then said, “Yes. Thank you for trusting me. I love you. Be
careful. And hurry your butt home to me.”

  “I will. Good night.”

  “Like I’ll be sleeping. Good luck.”

  Dawn hung up. I grinned in spite of myself. “I love her.”

  *Obviously.*

  I reached the parking lot. Pete stood on a log facing in the direction of the Elwha steading, illumined by the yellow glow of a streetlamp and sniffing at the air.

  “You okay?” I asked.

  His eyes snapped to mine, and they were wolf eyes for a second, pale blue surrounded by black. He blinked and they returned to his normal warm brown. A confused expression crossed his big cherubic face before he said, “Finn? Sorry, I thought I smelled … other waerwolves have been here.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “They attacked the steading.”

  “Two males, one female,” Pete said. “Minerva, the one who came to the house. I felt an … urge to run into the forest, to find them.”

  “They’re gone. I hope. But … I may need your help talking to their Archon.”

  Pete nodded earnestly. “I can do that. Thanks for not ditching me. I hate when you sneak off and get hurt.”

  I snorted. “Yeah, me too. Come on. The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can eat.”

  “Waffles?” Pete asked, his tone hopeful.

  “Der doy!” I replied.

  * * *

  The region’s Forest of Shadows Archon operated from his estate on the slope of Cougar Mountain, just outside the city of Bellevue. The city sat on the far side of Lake Washington from Seattle, and though officially a suburb of Seattle, it had grown into a sizeable city in its own right. The Archon worked in the city by day, and by night held court over all of those voted “Most Likely to Be Evil” at Brightblood High.

  He was, unsurprisingly, a vampire. And a lawyer.

  Dawn had told me all about the vampire craziness in books and movies while I was in exile, but Sterling William Clay was not particularly sexy or glittery, nor mopey, moody, or broody from what I’d heard. He was a cold, calculating old bastard who’d lived centuries and generally saw humans as little more than cattle whose best uses were as food and to make him a profit.

  It was a good thing for humans that vampires were notoriously territorial and not easily created. There were, as far as I knew, still only a dozen in the entire world.

  And I had to convince this particular ancient jerkhead to stop his clan from attacking the Elwha steading.

  It was still only 4:00 A.M. when we reached Bellevue, so we headed for Clay’s estate rather than his law offices. Cougar Mountain was the first and smallest of the “little Alps,” a range of tree-covered hills that loosely qualified as mountains and formed a circle of wilderness surrounded by sprawling cities.

  The road up Cougar Mountain wound through forest, with the houses plentiful at first then coming further apart and growing larger and grander the deeper in we drove. By the time we turned up the paved side road that led to Clay’s estate, we hadn’t passed another house in over a mile. His property was backed onto hundreds of miles of protected wilderness, perfect when many of your clan preferred to run wild, or had a difficult time passing as human even with a glamour.

  We were stopped by a tall iron gate across the road, and by the six-foot Crocodile Dundee–looking dude who stood in front of it with his bare arms crossed and his eyes shaded by an Aussie-style cowboy hat. As Pete and I got out of the car a safe distance away, he called out, “No visitors. Get back in and turn around.”

  Pete sniffed at the air, and cocked his head. “This is one of the waerwolves from Elwha,” he whispered to me.

  Great. I’d hoped against hope that the Archon had no knowledge of the attacks on the Silver, that he would be as furious about someone using his clan members to create trouble as the Silver were.

  That seemed less likely now.

  “Hello!” I called back, and held my hands out and open at my sides. I stayed close to the car. “I just came back from the Other Realm, where I had a nice chat with a Bright Lord from the Greatwood. I need to talk with your Archon about it.”

  Dundee dude’s head tilted back, his nostrils flaring as he sniffed, and a golden hoop glinted in his left ear. “You’re allied with that Silver tree bitch.”

  “No, not allied. I want to help you both.”

  He made a sound between a grunt and a growl, and said, “Rumor is a necromancer helped her kill Ned. He was my pack mate.”

  Crap.

  “Look. If you can just get your Archon—”

  A rustling in the undergrowth to our left caused me to take a step back and put my hand in my pocket, grasping the cool silver-plated steel of the baton.

  A wiry old man stepped out of the forest wearing jeans and a dirty red flannel shirt, his white hair sticking out wild from beneath a fedora the color of drying blood.

  A redcap.

  He held a wooden staff in his left hand, his talon-like nails preventing him from closing his hand entirely around it, and in his right he gripped a wriggling rabbit by the scruff of its neck. He was busy tearing the throat out of the rabbit with his teeth when he stepped onto the road, and stopped short when he realized he was not alone.

  He fixed his bloodshot eyes on me, and with a red grin he lifted the rabbit and let its blood stream down onto his hat. “Hallo, boys. What ’ave we ’ere?”

  Why couldn’t anything ever be easy?

  Meeting a redcap without magical protections was about as lucky as running into Freddy Krueger in a knife shop.

  I glanced back. I would not be able to get into the hearse before the redcap could reach me. And fleeing into the forest was not an option—this was their turf.

  Dundee McWaerjerk smiled an unpleasant smile. “Good timing, Willem. This Shadows-murdering arcana and his friend were just trying to get at our Archon.”

  “Now wait—” I said.

  “Funny thing,” Waerjerk continued, “I don’t see a single beaded moustache between them, and he ain’t once gone all official talking about ARC authority and all. What do you think that means?”

  Willem met his grin, and dropped the rabbit, his hat now glistening and bright red. “I’m thinking it means dinner, it does!”

  “Don’t do this—” I said, and stepped toward the car as I flicked my wrist. The baton extended and burst into fiery blue light.

  Willem threw his staff at me, and leapt after it.

  Why can’t there be time-outs in real life?

  27

  Devil Inside

  I managed to turn enough that Willem’s staff clipped my shoulder rather than punching me in the throat. It sent me staggering sideways, and my left arm went numb. I saw Waerjerk and Pete crash into each other, both punching and trying to knock the other to the ground.

  And then Willem leaped on me, his eyes wide and wild and red as his fedora. I swung the baton with all my strength for his head.

  He caught the edge of the blow on one forearm, but the baton still connected with his cheekbone, and flared white. The redcap crashed into me, and we fell to the cold concrete together. The baton jolted out of my hand as it hit the ground. Willem punched me in the throat, and I gagged. He straddled me, his bony knees pressing my shoulders to the ground, and leaned down, blood dripping from a nasty gash on his cheek.

  I looked over, gasping for enough breath to call for help, but Pete had his own problems. Waerjerk leaped at Pete, transforming into a black wolf twice the size any wolf had a right to be.

  The redcap pressed one hand over my mouth to keep me from speaking, jerking my head back to face him.

  “No wizardy words from you, oh no,” he said, a wicked smile wrinkling his old-man’s face. His breath reeked of blood and decay, which only made me gag worse. He ran a talon along my cheek with his free hand. “Let us see what power there be in a wizard’s blood, hey?”

  I punched him in the side—and the redcap’s pressing hand muffled my cry of pain. Willem might look like an old man, but he was solid as a log. He chuckled, and presse
d his talon against my neck.

  I grabbed his wrist, concentrated, and summoned his spirit.

  Willem screamed, his body convulsing as the spiritual feedback set his nervous system on fire. I pushed him off of me.

  My head rang from the feedback of the summoning as I scrambled across the carpet of pine needles and snatched up the baton.

  “Mercy, mercy,” Willem said, whimpering between words. “I meant no harm, only playing I was.”

  Yeah, right.

  I crab-walked backward, and then pushed myself to my feet.

  Willem pressed a hand to his bleeding cheek. His red fedora darkened around the edges, the blood draining away to sustain and heal him, leaving the rim dry and crusty.

  I backed toward the car, the now-glowing baton held pointed at the redcap. “Don’t move,” I said, and looked over at the vicious sound of two wolves snarling and snapping at each other.

  Pete had transformed into a wolf.

  If Waerjerk was two times the size of a normal wolf, Petey was nearly three times. His coat shifted in a pattern of grays and light browns, and he had pale fur around his muzzle that was now spotted with red.

  The dark wolf squatted low, growling. His gold hoop earring still glinted in his pointy ear. He limped to one side, and Pete growled and pressed in. Waerjerk snapped at Wolf-Pete, and Wolf-Pete launched into a crazed frenzy of barking and snarling. He bit at Waerjerk’s neck and practically climbed on top of him before leaping away and stalking him again.

  Waerjerk lowered himself to the ground, and belly-crawled toward Pete, whimpering.

  Pete snapped once at him, then appeared to just lose interest. Waerjerk stood, and moved around to his side and slightly behind him.

  “Pete?” I called. “You okay?”

  Wolf-Pete’s pale blue eyes snapped to me, and his hackles rose. He growled, and Waerjerk joined him.

  Oh crap.

  “Hey,” I said. “It’s me, Finn. Your brother?”

  Wolf-Pete padded cautiously toward me, his lips pulled back to show all his teeth as he continued to growl.