Weald Fae 03 - The Aetherfae

by Christopher Shields

  “I know. She’d destroy Europe to kill me.”

  Victoria grabbed my chin and pulled my face toward hers. Her dark brown eyes were mesmerizing. “You cannot be so reckless.”

  “I know, I’m sorry. I just saw—”

  “It does not matter what you saw,” she said. “If you want to succeed, you must avoid the temptation to expose yourself. There were three Rogue Fae just beyond the city—that is why we came.”

  “I didn’t sense them.“

  “They were beyond your senses. Nerthus was among them. Have you heard of her?” she asked.

  “No.”

  “She is ancient—a Kobold elder until two thousand years ago. She has extraordinary range—several miles.” Victoria said. “Never assume you’re unseen.”

  “Are you Kobold now?”

  Victoria nodded. “Yes, I rejoined my old clan. Together,” she said, nodding at Sherman, “we arranged the melding of the Fee and the Kobold.”

  “The Fee?”

  “My original clan,” Sherman said. “We controlled most of France for more than five hundred thousand years. The Fee were the first clan decimated by the Rogues. Those of us who remain are Kobold now.”

  “Does that mean France is under Kobold protection?”

  “No. The hills to the west are our boundary. Rogues control France beyond the hills and to the Basque region—France is a very dangerous place. The Basque, Spain, and Portugal are controlled by the Duende, but they, like the Hulijung, are considering joining the Alliance. You will not be safe there. It would be better for you to remain with us.”

  “I can’t. I have to find Bastien.”

  Victoria shook her head. “If he still exists.”

  “He must.”

  “Maggie, the Kabouter may have only told you what you wanted to hear. We have seen no evidence of Bastien in millennia—not in the physical realm, and not in ours,” she said. “Please reconsider.”

  Victoria seemed genuinely concerned about me, and I didn’t believe it was purely strategic. She cared and that made me smile. “Thank you, but I have to go.”

  Sherman took my hand. “We will let you, but understand that beyond the hills, you are on your own. What are you going to do with your friends.”

  “How did you know about them.”

  Sherman tapped his ear. “They’re talking about you. Candace and Ronnie, correct?”

  I nodded.

  “One does not heal a human mind and forget it so soon,” Sherman said. “And what a mind. But not just hers. He is quite clever, more than you may realize, but the question remains: What do you plan to do with them?”

  “Take them with me, I guess.”

  “That is your choice—and theirs—but I counsel you against it. Protecting yourself will be difficult enough. Taking them with you means putting them at risk.”

  I slumped in the seat. We’d done fine so far, but I realized how quickly that would have changed in Veluwezoom had we been discovered. “They aren’t going to like that.”

  “We could convince them,” Victoria offered.

  “No, we will make the decision without any compulsion,” I said.

  Sherman smiled. “You have not changed. I’m very glad Ozara failed. Where did the Kabouter tell you to search for Bastien?’

  “Fontainebleau.”

  Sherman frowned and the lines on his oval face became pronounced. “That does not make sense to me, but of course, I am not Bastien. I might have guessed Lascaux or Chauvet, but Fontainebleau?”

  “I don’t know anything about Fontainebleau. Do you have any hints where I might look?”

  “One, perhaps. There are carvings among the old boulders in the forest—mostly weathered away now. Humans do not recognize their significance. If Bastien is in Fontainebleau, he may be there. Keep in mind, if Bastien wants to speak with you, he will find you. Do not linger there for long.”

  I sensed the Kobold returning and dropped my Air barrier. “Did they get him?”

  “No,” Victoria whispered, staring up at the stained glass. “He escaped again.”

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  INTO THE FIRE

  In the mid-morning sun, Candace turned bright red and ground her teeth together. “No, we’re going with you.”

  “But you’ll be safer with Victoria and Sherman.”

  “You say Victoria and Sherman like you want us to hang out with your aunt and uncle. Call it was it is—the Kobold,” Ronnie snapped.

  “Fine…you’ll be safer with the Kobold.”

  “What part of “No” do you not understand?” Candace said, laughing. It wasn’t a you-told-a-joke laugh. It was an are-you-stupid laugh.

  “I don’t want anything to happen to you, that’s all.”

  She leaned forward, as a tiny vein bulged beneath the pale skin in her forehead, and clarified, “To us? We don’t want to get hurt, trust me. But I have a news flash, Maggie O’Shea, I am not spending the next twenty-four hours throwing up, wondering if you’re in trouble…or worse. That stunt with Chalen was the most idiotic thing you’ve done since I’ve known you—three Rogues waiting for you to show yourself. You need adult supervision.”

  “Fine, you have adults handy?”

  “No, we’ll just have to do,” she snapped back.

  “This isn’t a democracy.”

  “Oh, bullshit. What in the hell has gotten into you? You’re starting to piss me off.”

  Candace had not used profanity at any point in the last three weeks—I’d never seen her that angry. She took a deep breath, and ran her slender white fingers up the side of her head. “I know it’s dangerous, Maggie. We could die today, we could die tomorrow—”

  “Exactly,” I cut her off. “Going with them might preserve your life—”

  “No, the point is, if I’m going to die, I want to be with my friends. Rachel died alone in a parking lot. If we are going to die, I want to do it together.” Her voice softened to an emotional whisper. “I’ve read your journal, Mags, and I think you’re the bravest person I know. But I know you get scared, too. We’re all in this together. Ronnie and I can’t do what you can, but we can help.”

  “You’ve already helped…more than you know. “

  “And we will keep on helping. I’m not willing to let you make your death a foregone conclusion, like you’re disposable or something. Do you really expect us to treat you differently than you’re willing to treat us?”

  I didn’t want to answer her, but she was right. “No.”

  “Then you need to stop rushing into places—like the plaza—and think about the big picture. If any of us are going to survive, it’ll be because you’ve lived long enough to discover Aether. Could I die before then? Sure. I accept that. We may all die—people are dying everywhere—but you need to come to grips with the fact that we get it. Accept that we know the risks—we know what’s out there. It’s not like we’re volunteering without all the facts. We’re doing this for our families, for Rachel.”

  “I admit it, okay, going after Chalen was completely stupid. You have my word that it won’t happen again. But Victoria is right—Bastien may not even be there. This is really risky. They’ll be looking for me, and it may be for nothing. Please, just let me go it alone—just this time. Right now, they’re looking for three humans. If I go by myself, I have an advantage.”

  “Well, that makes sense,” she said. “It’s the first thing you’ve said that does.”

  “No it doesn’t,” Ronnie protested.

  We both stared at him.

  “Okay, so it makes a little sense. I still don’t like it.”

  “I don’t either,” Candace said, “but she’s right. We do slow her down.”

  “Are we agreed then?”

  “Do we have your word, in and out, no asinine risks?” she asked.

  “I promise.”

  She and Ronnie exchanged a quick glance. “Okay, because we would slow you down we’ll agree to stay with Sherman and Victoria, but if you’re not back in twenty
-four hours, we’re coming after you.”

  “Forty-eight—you have to give me a reasonable amount of time. It may take a while to find him.”

  Ronnie let out a long, noisy sigh. “Take your phone.”

  I pulled both of them into a bear hug. “Thank you!”

  * * *

  I hadn’t felt the sensation of being watched in more than twenty-four hours. It made me wonder if I’d ever really sensed it at all. Maybe my nerves are getting to me? Driving west out of Strasbourg, I felt truly alone for the first time since the night I went to rescue Mitch.

  The narrow road wound up the forested hills. Through patches of sunlight and shade, I drove past numerous little stucco houses, with shuttered windows and tiled roofs, which laced the hillsides. Except for the architecture, the woods reminded me of the Ozarks, made up of mostly deciduous trees with evergreens here and there. The road cut along a creek as it tumbled down the hill in the other direction. The AC blowing noisily from the vents kept the interior of the car comfortable in the August heat, but it smelled strange.

  It seemed pathetic to be breathing noxious old car fumes when I could be breathing fresh air, so I rolled down the windows and checked the GPS once again. Just a few miles ahead I would enter Rogue territory. Like before, I’d decided to take less travelled roads in the hopes that I might slip into the heart of France unseen. I wouldn’t make it to Paris, unfortunately. Under other circumstances, nothing could have kept me away. My eyes misted when I remembered Aunt May, all those months ago, telling me how she wanted to move to Paris and find a smoldering husband. God, I missed her and Dad. I missed Mom and Mitch, too, and hoped that Wakinyan and Billy had them tucked safely away somewhere.

  The engine sputtered slightly when I yanked my foot off the accelerator—sensing a Fae in the mountains in front of me, I was immediately unnerved. I rolled the windows up and flipped the air conditioning back on. Any barrier, even glass, seemed better than nothing. I concentrated on the three-point star above the grill, and tried to keep it lined up with the edge of the road on the right. If I focused on driving, I told myself, I wouldn’t worry about Fae two miles ahead.

  I slowed down for a tiny hamlet tucked into a narrow valley about a mile past the town of Schirmeck. Old stucco buildings hugged the street uncomfortably close to my right fender. The noisy engine seemed to clatter even louder in the narrow space between buildings, almost like I was banging a metal spoon against a pot to let everyone know I was there. The Fae was just beyond the collection of buildings and it didn’t move. A Kobold. It was hidden from view a half mile west of the little village, standing sentinel near an old abandoned building. The structure gave me the willies. Mossy crumbling walls, broken arched windows, peeling paint, and a rotting, sagging tile roof—I stared at the faded green door as I passed. So this is it—so soon? The edge of Kobold territory.

  It seemed a rather sad boundary to me. Beyond the Fae and its ruined hiding place, I was on my own.

  The road cut back and forth several times following the contours of the hills as I drove deeper into France. The GPS told me I’d left Alsace and entered Lorraine. The mountains grew a little taller but they were more spread out, and the deciduous trees gave way to evergreens. The road snaked through each little town, and in each one, I felt angst for the residents. Even though the Rogues weren’t hanging out on each street corner, I occasionally felt them concealed among the pines up in the mountains. It was probably just my nerves, but the towns themselves seemed to be saying, “Keep moving.” Old stucco buildings crowed the road, leaving few places to park. Arched double doors were all pushed shut, shutters were drawn over small windows, and nothing about the area seemed very inviting.

  Miles later, I drove out of the hills and into the rolling farmland of Champagne. After stopping for coffee in Bologne, I climbed back into the smelly Mercedes and drove through Chaumont, Troyes, Montereau, and into the Fontainebleau forest. A few kilometers from my destination, my heart began to race.

  Fontainebleau looked as elegant as the name sounded, with regal buildings crowned by elaborate mansard roofs, and others adorned with intricate wrought iron railing and stone coining. Most impressive, however, was the chateau on the edge of town—it was enormous and stunning. On a street named Rue Paul Séramy, I pulled into an empty parking space and killed the engine.

  Under my breath, I muttered, “Okay, Bastien, where are you?”

  I didn’t sense any Fae, neither Bastien nor Rogue. It was disappointing, but I also felt relieved. There was nothing after me—not yet, at least. The most frightening thing around was the rumpled, tired looking brunette staring back at me in the plate glass window. After wearing the same clothes for days, I feared I smelled as bad as I looked. The second hotel I checked had a room, and an hour later I had on new clothes and sneakers. The water pressure in the bathroom was pitiful, but it did the job. Even after a shower, it was easy to see what a toll all of it was having on me. Dark circles ringed my eyes, and I looked thin and weak—definitely not in championship form.

  I pulled on a cotton top and a pair of shorts after pulling my hair into a ponytail. Find Bastien. As soon as the door to the room closed, my mind clicked. Leave nothing in the room, stupid. I burst back in, frantically packing everything I had into the backpack. Who knew how long I’d be gone, or whether I’d be able to come back?

  I decided to check the most obvious place first, and walked to the chateau. Every second person I passed looked at me as if we were acquainted. I brushed it off as coincidence at first, but then it became alarming. A man approached me, speaking angrily in French. When he grabbed my arm, I peeled his fingers off with my mind and pushed him back a few feet with Air. He began screaming at me, causing more people to turn and stare.

  My phone started going off, but before I could answer it, several people joined the man and began trying to circle around me. What’s going on?

  My gut told me to get away, quickly. I broke into a dead sprint down the sidewalk. Several men pursued me. This can’t be happening. Why are they chasing me? I ducked around a corner and threw a Clóca barrier around myself. I crossed the street between cars and then flattened myself against a brick wall. The throng of men paused at the corner, trying to figure out where I’d gone. Women and children ran away, petrified. It was still unclear what was happening when the first French police car showed up. Soon afterward, several more came screeching to a halt at the corner as I began inching away, slipping past onlookers. My phone rang again.

  “Hello?”

  “Maggie, where are you?” Candace asked.

  “I’m in Fontainebleau.”

  “You need to stay away from people…they’re blaming us for the bridge.”

  “What bridge?’

  Her voice was uneven and excited. “The one that collapsed right behind us. It was just on the news. They’re saying it was terrorism, and the news is flashing our pictures. They’re saying we’re members of some group called the ETA.”

  “The who?”

  “It’s a terrorist group.”

  “That explains what’s happening here.”

  “Explains what?” She asked.

  “The police are looking for me…but it’s okay, I’m hidden.”

  “I didn’t see this coming,” she said.

  “I didn’t either. It’s clever. Everyone in Europe will be looking for us. Using humans to track us down—so clever.”

  “Maggie, were you spotted?”

  “Yes, so?”

  “The Rogues will be listening to the radio, won’t they?”

  Despite the hot midday air, a chill rattled down my spine. “I’ve got to go. They’ll be listening to cell phones, too. Are you safe?”

  “Yes, we’re…on the move.”

  “I’ll find you.”

  “Be careful, please.”

  “I will. Gotta go.”

  TWENTY-NINE

  FONTAINEBLEAU

  Halfway down the block, a hundred yards from the police, people jammed th
e sidewalks gawking and muttering to one another. I thought about scurrying through a restaurant and trying to get out the back door, but there were too many people inside. In the next building, a clothing store, the workers were locking the doors. There were people darting back and forth across the street beyond a hastily erected barricade. Since it wasn’t possible to go through the crowd, I did the next best thing—I went over. In a cushion of Air, I lifted off the ground and spun twice over the top of the frightened throng. My Clóca barrier slipped and for a moment my feet were exposed, but nobody seemed to notice. They were busing looking forward rather than up.

  Fifty yards past the onlookers, I set down on the sidewalk and began sprinting with Clóca at full power. Dancing left and then right, I dodged a few pedestrians making their way toward the ruckus. Several emotions fought for my attention. Fear was the first. It wouldn’t take long for the Rogues to figure out where I was—they probably already knew and were converging en masse. It didn’t scare me for my own safety. It scared me for everyone else’s. If the Fae were willing to destroy the east coast of America to get rid of my distant kin, what would they do to tiny Fontainebleau?

  My stomach knotted and I felt perspiration pouring down my forehead and back. Clóca didn’t come with air conditioning, and for the most part it blocked any breeze that might be blowing through the medieval streets. It wasn’t just the heat making me sweat, however. I needed to find Bastien, which was a challenge in its own right, but how could I hope to find him while I was cloaked? It seemed impossible. Not only did I need to find a Fae who had avoided other Fae for thousands of years, but if I risked being seen, the mob scene would surely repeat itself—and next time I knew they would have company.

  As I made my way to the walls of the chateau, I watched my gray Mercedes roll by on the back of a tow truck. Well great, I’ve lost another car. At least I have my bag, for all the good it will do me. Despite everything else going on, the bigger problem seemed to be an exit strategy. How in the world did I hope to get back to Kobold territory without being recognized? “I won’t be safe there, either. I’m probably on CNN already.” World fugitive—the Rogues had played it brilliantly. That realization filled me with another emotion—anger.