by John Conroe
“Do we? Tonight?” she asked, eyebrow raised.
“You want a beach day?” I asked.
“We’ve got food, I think there’s some wine in the cooler, it’s the beach, and I have it on good authority that the weather can be persuaded to behave,” she said, a glint of mischief in her eyes.
“That sounds awesome,” I said, opening the gate to the beach.
“Plus I need to swim to get this blue crap off me. Oh, I forgot my swimsuit, oh darn,” she said, holding my gaze as she stepped toward the portal. She gave me a look over her shoulder and stepped through. I followed as fast as my feet could move.
Chapter 31
Idiria’s City Council really did have appointed chambers. Fancy ones at that. All beautifully carved white stone and inlaid woods, dark and light. Not at all like anything from Earth, yet still recognizable as an official space. We barged right in. There were guards on the doors, more ceremonial than anything else. Like security guards without guns, or swords in this case. They just got out of my way real fast, and the doors opened at a gesture from my hand.
Rife was first out of his seat, yelling in Elvish. No surprise there. Neither of us would have gone against that bet but when Bien followed him to her feet, I swore. I’d been sure Trohale would be the second most offended. Now I owed back rubs for a month.
Bien used English while Rife still swore or protested in his native tongue. “What is this?” she asked, visibly restraining herself as she recognized me.
“This is us, on our way off planet. Just wanted to pop in and update the Council on some things,” I said. “Nice place, by the way.” It really was. More ornate than the dragon and queen meeting dome.
“Milord Declan. You’ve…” she struggled for the right word, “caught us in mid-topic.”
I nodded at her diplomatic choices. She got points for that.
“You can’t just force your way in here!” Rife said. He lost points for that.
Raising both eyebrows, I looked around at the room, the council members, and finally back at the open door. A guard met my eyes and, at my nod, closed the doors. Brows still high, I turned back to Rife. He took in the situation.
“Never mind. Do as you will, Lord Realm Holder,” he said, sitting down.
“See, that right there would get you dead or worse with the sister queens,” I pointed out. “Even I was more polite than that, right Stacia?”
“With Morrigan, yes. With Zinnia, you were a little brusque,” she replied.
“You met with the queens?” Fafael asked.
“Yes, just had a little tet-the-tet,” I said.
“Tête-à-tête,” Stacia corrected.
“Yeah. That. Anyway, I’ve ironed out a no kill agreement with Morrigan,” I said, looking at Lillain. “And gave Zinnia a black eye,” turning to Trohale. “Those dactilyns of hers taste like chicken you know.”
“What is chicken?” Rife asked.
Bien waved him to silence. “You ate one of the Summer Queen’s flyers?” she asked.
“Well, there were like forty of the damned things lying around and we didn’t have steaks like we thought we did,” I said with a glance at Stacia.
“So I snack on watch and it slipped my mind,” she said, ignoring my glare to study a fingernail with complete unconcern.
“Anyway, we needed something to roast over a beach fire and so we had ourselves a Flintstone drumstick,” I said.
They looked at me then each other, clearly confused. Bien cut through the clutter. “You had a fight with Zinnia? Killing forty of her dactilyns? You won?” she asked.
“At least forty, plus twenty or twenty-five goblins, two or three dozen Hunters, four of those big blue dudes, and four tiger people,” I said.
“Twenty-seven goblins,” Stacia corrected.
“Right,” I said. “So things are clear to the north and the south is licking her wounds. We’re headed back to Earth for a while. I really don’t see any point in interfering with whatever it is you people do here. I don’t want to run a city. Hell, I don’t really want to run the Realm, but I’m stuck with it, aren’t I?”
“So you bulled in here to order us to do our jobs and tell us you won’t be ordering us around?” Rife asked.
“Exactly. You’re really quite good with this stuff, Rifey. You might have a real career in public service.”
“I’ve been a council member for over one hundred and fifty of your years.”
“And you’ve managed to stick with it? That persistence will serve you well,” I said.
He opened his mouth but Bien spoke first. “You’re leaving us on our own so the queens don’t attack Idiria?”
“First, Morrigan promised not to attack anything unless I’m wounded or weak. Second, Zinnia has to go back to her secret labs and brew up some more hench-things. But yeah. If I’m not here, you all aren’t really part of the contest.”
“That seems unwise, if I might say so,” Trohale said. We all looked at him.
“The queens are known for revenge,” he said.
“Yes, but don’t you think that revenge will follow me back to Earth? Why attack you all? It’s not like I have a history with this city or an attachment to it. Wouldn’t she strike something on my home world?” I asked.
“Shocked as I am to find myself agreeing, you’re right,” Rife said, looking quizzically at Trohale. “We should encourage Lord Declan to remove his presence from Idiria.”
“But it seems just as likely that the Summer Queen will come looking for you and, not finding anything, might lay waste to the city,” Trohale said.
“First, her spies will report us gone. Second, the queens have use of a neutral city, despite its location in my realm. Why, the only people here to miss us would be those Summer spies who want some valuable information to report,” I said.
“That does seem logical,” Lillain said, watching Trohale with amusement.
“You said neutral?” Bien asked. “Does this mean you are not claiming control of this city?”
“It means exactly that.”
“Why?” she asked.
“Why do I not want responsibility for seventy-nine thousand, six hundred eighty-one individuals and six thousand, nine hundred and twelve buildings? Would you prefer I took control and turned you all into my troops?” I asked.
“No, but that is exactly what one of the queens would do,” Bien said.
“Which is why I will do the exact opposite,” I said.
“That’s illogical. You cannot defeat them simply by choosing actions that they wouldn’t,” Bien said, looking at Stacia.
“He’s contrary like that,” she said with a shrug.
“I have no interest in slaves. My troops are all volunteers and they live in the ground, water, and air around us. The queens stage combat on fields of battle with armies. That’s their game. I won’t play it and I don’t have time to play catch up, nor could I match their forces if I did. I don’t have the time or resources. So I’ll come at them another way. You all don’t enter into that.”
“What way will you be coming at them, then?” Trohale asked.
“Dude, you got some brass ones. You think I’m gonna announce my secret plans here? To you?” I asked.
“I am uncertain of what ‘brass ones’ means but if it means stupid, I agree,” Lillain said, looking at Trohale with a sneer.
“Right. Well it’s been nice but we’ve got to get going. Right, Declan?” Stacia asked.
“Right. See you when we see you,” I said. We both turned and headed out the door.
“Why does he use such ridiculous turns of phrase?” Cullen asked the other behind us.
“Who knows how these humans think?” a voice, Mostella’s I thought, said.
“That, I believe, is exactly his intent,” Bien said.
Chapter 32
We stepped out of Fairie and into my aunt’s barn, greeted by a loud churrup from Draco. Instantly, both of our phones began to buzz and chime with incoming texts and emails.
We both stood still for a few moments, gear and bags half forgotten as we scrolled, deleted, and in a few cases replied.
Stacia sucked in a sharp breath.
“What?” I asked, alarmed.
She stood frozen, staring at her phone, before abruptly blanking the screen and picking up a backpack. “Gotta run. I have to check in with Brock and Afina. Pack business,” she said.
“What pack business?” I asked, not liking the tension in her body.
“Private pack business that even Friends of the Pack can’t be privy to,” she said.
“But is everything all right?”
“Yes, worry-wart. Stuff I gotta handle for Afina. I’ve been a bit remiss in some of my areas of responsibility,” she said.
“And Afina’s mad at you?”
“No. She’s not mad. Neither is Brock. But I do have to go. As do you. You’ve missed another chunk of school, you’ve got a witch class to teach, and you better check in with your aunts,” she said, moving over to give me a kiss. Then she grabbed me hard and kissed me again.
“When will I see you again?” I asked.
“I’ll call as soon as I get this wrapped up,” she said with a nonchalant shrug. One last lingering kiss and she turned and left the barn. I grabbed my bags and followed, but she was fast. By the time I got outside, she was backing her Pack-owned BMW out of the driveway, giving me an odd little wave before driving away.
I stood still, thinking about the last two minutes.
“Is everything all right, Father?”
“Something odd about all that. I wonder what was in that email?” I asked.
“We agreed that Stacia’s emails and text messages would be off-limits to the two of us unless she offered them or unless it was an emergency. Is this an emergency, Father?”
I thought about her reactions, her kisses, and the odd manner of her abrupt departure. Her final expression had been a little worried. Worried mixed with… sad?
“Do you know of anything odd going on with the New York Pack?” I asked.
“Their business performance has been solid and there have been no alarming incidents with any pack members to my knowledge. The only thing I am aware of is that today is the first day of spring and the pack has a quarterly gathering planned for the full moon tonight.”
“What? Really?” I asked. “I totally lost track of the days. That probably explains it.”
“So, not an emergency then?”
“No, that doesn’t qualify,” I said, still curious but not willing to breach Stacia’s privacy and trust to check up on her.
“What are your immediate plans, Father?”
“Well, first things first. Visit Aunt Ash, then lunch, then I should check in at Arcane. Probably see if I can catch a class or two,” I said. I wasn’t super excited about the last part though.
Three and half hours later found me back at my dorm room, clearing out the last of my overdue emails while filling Mack in on my most recent encounters with the queens of Fairie.
“You honestly trust Morrigan to not attack you?” he asked.
“Stacia compared it to a wolf pack. The rank and file wolves will follow and protect the Alpha right up until he gets sick or wounded. Then all bets are off.”
“So when times are good she’ll keep her distance, but if Zinnia delivers a smack down, she’ll swoop in and go for the throat?” he asked.
“In a nutshell,” I said.
“Whose nut sack?” a female voice asked from the open door to our room.
Erika stood there, Michelle and Tami just behind her.
I opened my mouth to correct her but shut it when I noticed her grin. “Ladies. What’s happening?” I asked instead.
“We’re planning a group outing to that new noodle place. You two want to come?” she asked.
I almost answered yes, but just in the nick of time I realized what she’d said and, knowing her, what her likely response would be if I answered in the affirmative. Then I had another thought.
“Wait, what day is it?” I asked.
All three girls looked at me like I was a moron, but Mack took pity. “Friday.”
“Oh. You know, I think I’ll take a pass,” I said. “Thanks though.”
“I think she just made a pass,” Tami said, just as Mack answered, too.
“I’ll come.”
Erika raised both brows but Mack just gave her a single arched eyebrow. The normally mouthy witch uncharacteristically kept her trap shut and just smiled at him instead. He grabbed his coat, smiling back. Hmm. What had I missed while on Fairie?
I unpacked after they left and was wondering if I should text Stacia when Omega suddenly spoke. “Father, a woman in Boston just emailed the founder of a Massachusetts paranormal group about an alleged incident.”
“Er, what?”
“She claimed to have been pushed while she was on the stairs of her newly purchased brownstone. The address is the same as the article from fifteen years ago.”
“But that ghost or entity disappeared? Right?”
“At the time, yes. Our working hypothesis was that a visiting death witch might have harnessed it as a weapon. What would happen to a captured entity if the witch died?”
“I don’t know. Possibly it could be released if the spell was tied to the witch herself and not an object of binding, I suppose.”
“I have scanned the records for the property. Ownership remained consistent for the last fourteen years and two months. Eight months ago, the owner was admitted to a skilled nursing facility and the property was put up for sale with a Realtor five months ago. After seventy-one days on the market, it went under contract. The closing happened three weeks ago today. Moving company records indicate the new owner moved in a week later and her laptop memory cache shows repeated searches regarding paranormal entities starting two days after that. The email to Boston Area Paranormal Society occurred seventeen minutes ago. The leader of the group has agreed to meet with her next week.”
“What are you thinking?”
“Who better to investigate that entity than a true paranormal expert with ties to death magic?”
“You think I should interview her?”
“Actually, I think the interview should be with the entity.”
That stopped me in my tracks. “You’re saying if the entity is the same one previously captured, I could get the whole story of my mother’s death?”
“Depending upon your ability to communicate with the ghost or spirit, you would, at the least, gain more information on the killer and her mission, and possibly actually get a firsthand report of the conflict.”
Suddenly I was excited. Really, really excited. To find out what my mother faced, how she died. Then a cold wave hit me. What if I saw it? Her last moments? What would that be like? How would I feel?
“Father?”
“Let’s do it,” I said, grabbing my messenger bag. I dressed warmly: heavy coat, hat, gloves, winter boots, thick socks. Wallet, flashlight, pocket knife, emergency cash and water bottle. I gassed up Beast and hit the road.
Chapter 33
It was about four hours to Boston on I-89 and I-93. Less really, but I had one pit stop at a highway rest station. Came out of the bathroom and headed back to Beast only to find a forty-something guy talking excitedly to his wife about Beast.
“This thing is mint,” he was saying as I walked up. Turning he smiled, “What year?”
“It’s a ’72,” I replied.
“Well, it’s awesome. You’ve done a fine job with it. If I wasn’t so attached to all my gadgets and crap, I’d want one too,” he said, waving a hand at the Lexus sedan parked next to my ride.
“Well, you’d be surprised at the aftermarket add-ons available,” I said as I unlocked Beast and climbed in. The engine started itself but he couldn’t see that from outside the vehicle. I backed out, put it in first, and eased out to the highway on-ramp. Then I took both hands off the wheel, feet off the clutch, brake, and gas pedals and lea
ned back to continue my research into ghosts and death magic.
Beast took us up to cruising speed, merging perfectly onto the highway. Between Omega’s drones in, around, and all over the car, and my magical additions, Beast might well be the world’s first truly self-driving car.
It was dark by the time we got to Boston, the air cool and moist in the early evening. Beast drove right to the brownstone and Omega had already found us a parking spot only two short blocks away.